Read Ebook: Punch or the London Charivari Volume 102 May 21 1892 by Various

Font size: 10 px 15 px 20 px 25 px 30 px 35 px

Background color: BlackWhiteGrayLight GrayDark GrayDim Gray

Text color: BlackWhiteGrayLight GrayDark GrayDim Gray

Apply/Save settings

Ebook has 77 lines and 12414 words, and 2 pages

PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI

VOL. 102

MAY 21, 1892

MORE THAN SATISFIED!

"I quite agree," I said, mildly, as I unwound my comforter, "that your course of studies seems to suit you remarkably well. Quite a bevy of female admirable CRICHT--!"

The effect was immediate; an unmistakable rush of lexicons--or were they Todhunters?--hurtled around my devoted head from the fair hands of disturbed and ruffled girlhood.

"Pray don't mention that person again!" said my fair-haired interlocutor, and I thought I wouldn't.

I was interrupted by a paroxysm of coughing, which I tried to explain, as my young friends thumped my back with unnecessary zeal, was, owing to my having imprudently ventured out without my chest-protector. As soon as I was able, I feebly hazarded the suggestion that, for growing girls, the habit of stooping over their books seemed calculated to induce weakness in the lungs--but their roars of merriment at the idea instantly convinced me that any uneasiness on this score was entirely superfluous.

"You certainly all look remarkably well," I observed, genially, "particularly sunburnt and brow--"

Here there was a roar of quite another kind. I endeavoured to protest, as I got behind an arm-chair and dodged a Differential Calculus and a large glass inkstand, that I hadn't meant to allude to the obnoxious Physician at all, but had merely intended to convey my hearty admir--

"I know what you're going to say!" interrupted the fair-haired girl, vivaciously. "And you had better not."

As she spoke, she raised me from my seat by the coat-collar with no apparent effort, and deposited me on the top of a tall bookcase, from which I found myself compelled to prosecute my inquiries.

"Nature has been very bountiful to you--very much so, I am sure," I murmured, blinking amiably down upon them through the spectacles I wear to correct a slight tendency to strabismus. "Still, don't you--er--find that your eyes--"

I got no further; I thought some of them would have died!

But they wouldn't; on the contrary, I was given to understand, somewhat plainly, that compliments were perhaps ill-advised in that gathering.

I crawled after my guide without a word, inwardly reflecting that I was sorry I had spoken, and heartily cursing the very name of that eminent Physician, Dr. CRICHTON BROWNE. She took me first of all to a field where a bevy of maidens were engaged in a game of hockey.

My guide smiled as she saw that I had taken in the scene that was being enacted under my very nose.

We went through endless passages to an endless gymnasium, and every now and then I came across an Indian club or a dumb-bell, wielded by energetic female athletes. I should have liked to ask them whether they felt well, but I realised--only just in time--that the question would have been an impertinence.

"Are you getting satisfied?" said my unwearied guide, with another of her smiles, "or, do you still think we are a puny misshapen race?"

"Quite satisfied!" I replied, faintly, as I endeavoured to unclose a rapidly discolouring eye, "in fact, I begin to discredit that alarmist cry--"

Before I could complete the sentence, I found myself executing an involuntary parabola over some adjacent parallel bars. My young friend's brows had contracted into a frown, although she waited politely for me to pick myself up.

"I thought we agreed not to mention that name!" she said, coldly.

I felt that any attempt to explain my innocence would be received with quiet scorn. "I--I should like to ask you just one thing more," I said, desperately, as I lay on my back, "I am really entirely converted--quite ashamed. I do hope you won't think me--er--inquisitive--but I have been so often told--it has been so constantly asserted--" I found myself bungling horribly in my desire not to offend.

"Pray go on," she said, "we try to be simple and sincere, and we are always ready to satisfy an intelligent inquirer."

It was too late. When the friend who had smuggled me into the building came to my rescue, he asked me, rather noisily, "if I was feeling well?" I replied that I was not, and that I did not think I ever should again. And I never have.

TRUE MODESTY.

THE GENERAL'S LITTLE FUND.

Oh where, oh where is my little wee fund? Oh where, oh where can it be? With the pence cut short and the pounds cut long; Oh where, oh where can it be? I've travelled about with my little wee fund-- It used to pay for me; But now it's gone I'm lorn and lone; Oh where, oh where can it be?

I want to stump through Switzerland; On the 24th proximo. To Germany, Sweden, Norway, and To Denmark I want to go; I've held out my hat to every flat, And begged over land and sea, Humanity dunned, but I have no fund-- Oh where, oh where can it be?

If ever you see a stray bawbee Whenever, wherever you roam, Oh, tell him the woe that troubles me so, And say that it keeps me at home. I may mention that what you do, like a shot Must be done to be useful to me; At once send a cheque to save us from wreck, Or the Army will go to the D!

MR. PUNCH

THE ILLUSTRATED LONDON NEWS.

ON THE HAPPY OCCASION OF THE JUBILEE OF THAT EXCELLENT JOURNAL, MAY 14, 1892.

From Forty-Two to Ninety-Two! A full half-century of story! And now, our Century's end in view. May's back once more in vernal glory, And with it brings your Jubilee, "Many Returns," Ma'am, may you see, And honoured be the hour that bore you!

We loved great GILBERT, Glorious JOHN!-- Sir JOHN to-day, good knight, fine painter! Our eyes dwelt lingeringly upon His work, by which all else showed fainter. His dashing pencil "go" could give To simplest scene; a wondrous gift 'tis! How his bold line could make things live In those far Forties and old Fifties!

And humorous "PHIZ" and spectral READ, Made us alternate smile and shiver. Ah! ghosts, Ma'am, then were ghosts indeed, Born of the brain and not the liver. You shared our LEMON and our LEECH; Our BROOKS for you ran bright and sunny. May you live long, to limn and teach. Be graphic, genial, sage, and funny!

MEMS. OF THEATRES, &C., COMMISSION.

In answer to a question put by Viscount EBRINGTON, Mr. EDWARD TERRY gave it as his opinion that "if officers"--he was speaking of the army not the police--"were prouder of their uniforms, and did not take the earliest opportunity of divesting themselves of them, the uniform would be more respected." He ought to have put it, "would be uniformly more respected." But how about the man inside the uniform? But why should a soldier wear his uniform when off duty any more than a policeman when off duty, or any more than a barrister should wear his wig, bands, and gown, when not practising in the Courts? There is one person who should always wear a distinctive uniform, and that is a Clergyman, who is never off duty. Perhaps this is already provided for by the Act of Uniformity.

Mr. JOHN HOLLINGSHEAD, after expressing his opinion that Mr. IRVING had been "seeing visions,"--which of course is quite an Irvingite characteristic,--proposed to put everything right everywhere, and be the Universal Legislator and Official Representative of Everybody. Salary not so much an object as a comfortable home, a recognised official position, and "No Fees."

ESSENCE OF PARLIAMENT.

EXTRACTED FROM THE DIARY OF TOBY, M.P.

Dr. CLARK says they don't drive cattle with crooks. But that's a detail. CLARK sure to contradict in any case.

Things very quiet to-night; quite pastoral. Only one outburst; that arose when FOSTER accused CHAMBERLAIN of saying the thing that is not. CHAMBERLAIN hotly rose, and appealed to Chairman to say whether the Doctor-Baronet was in order. COURTNEY said, since he was asked, he must say he thought not. So FOSTER changed the prescription. CHAPLIN much gratified at this speedy close of rupture that threatened progress with Bill. Presided over discussion with urbanity that was irresistible.

"Reminds me," said WILFRID LAWSON, looking across at Right Hon. Gentleman seated on Treasury Bench, with deeply-bayed shirt-front, and head closely bent over copy of Bill, "of a motherly hen gathering its brood under its wings, and trying to make things comfortable all round. Sometimes, when one of the brood grows a trifle importunate, the motherly expression on the expansive face sharpens, and the chicken is pecked at. But, on the whole, little to disturb the serenity of the coop."

Never before thought of CHAPLIN as an old hen. But, really, with the place permeated with agricultural and farm-yard associations, LAWSON's idea not so far out of it as it might appear to the domestic circle at Blankney Hall.

Curious how this "eminent authority," as the MARKISS calls quite another personage, has lost his voice since Bill got into Committee. Seems so awestruck by enormity of his responsibility, not inclined to raise his voice above whisper. Effort to catch purport of his remarks completed depression under which Committee sinking. Went out to vote as if they were conducting CHAPLIN to a too early funeral. Then it was that an idea dawned on the mind of the wanton WIGGIN.

Turns out in course of interesting Debate that, though the speech on moving Second Reading is the voice of MATTINSON, the Bill is the Bill of FORWOOD, whose interest in the political affairs of Liverpool is said to be extensive and peculiar. NEVILLE puts it in another way. "Whenever," he said, "any political manipulation is afoot in Liverpool, be sure the Secretary to the Admiralty will not be far away."

At first, FORWOOD affected indifference to proceedings. "His Bill! s'elp him, never seen it before. 'L'pool.' What's that?" But as Debate went forward, and gentlemen opposite insisted on dragging him in, he finally yielded, and taking off coat, "went for" other side. Rev. SAM SMITH interposed with charming story about a gentleman whom Liverpool Tories had appointed Chairman of Watch Committee, "he being solicitor to the two largest publicans in Liverpool." That didn't at first sight seem much to point, supposing even the united cubit measurement of the worthy tradesmen exceeded twelve feet. But Reverend SAM went on to explain what he meant was that, "between them, they owned about 120 public-houses." Curious movement in Strangers' Gallery as of involuntary smacking of many lips, FORWOOD said this had been denied. SAM, couching the retort in clerical language, said in effect, "You're another!" whereupon Ministerialists roared, "Oh! oh!" and FORWOOD, now thoroughly roused, proceeded to show that SAMUEL and his Liberal allies were the real Gerrymanders, and that he, FORWOOD, was the spotless advocate of the true interests of the Working-Man.

House began to look askance on S.S. Never suspected him of being a man of that kind. Glad when painful discussion came to end. Bill read Second Time; but jubilation of promoters suddenly chilled by TIM HEALY, of whom no one was thinking at the moment, stepping in and adroitly putting spoke in wheel of Bill, by moving to refer it to Select Committee; which, being translated, means it will get no Forwooder this Session.

TRAMWAYS.

Share on: WhatsApp @Hash Facebook Tweet