Punch: Punch (32.1857)

January 17, 1867,J PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.

MARY ANN'S NOTIONS.

" My dear Me. Punch,

" Some of your remarks upon my last letter are sensible,1
some are funny,2 and the rest are very stupid.3 But I am not at all
offended with you,4 because I know that in your heart yon agree with
everything I say, and only add those grumbling growls to keep up the
precious dignity of your sex.5

" You told me in a note you sent me, that what I said in a former
letter about the ridiculous way young men talk has been considered as
' too severe' by some of them, and that they have been writing to you
about it. I wish you had sent me their notes.6 They must be dreadful
gabies to feel hurt by a girl's observations; but if the cap fits let them
wear it by all means. The fact is, my dear creature, I have not said
half enough about them. We have been to a good many parties this
Christmas (and, by the way, I send you a box of bonbon crackers for
that dear darling little thing that wrote to you last week about Hans
Chbistian Andersen, who is a great pet of mine, so be sure that you
have them forwarded, and do not let any of your great stupid he-con-
tributors get hold of them, or not a cracker will the poor child ever
see ; for men are the greatest babies of all') and I have of course had
plenty of opportunity of listening to the sort of talk that I am too
severe about. I made memorandums of what I could remember when
we got home, on several mornings,8 and I have put it together, as a
specimen of a gentleman's polite conversation in 1857. I have not put
in my answers because they were only nods, or indeeds, or 0 yeses,
or little laughs.9 Listen to him, now.

Children's parties very delightful, ain't they, charming and fresh
and all that ? Idon't care much about children myself, but I know a
good many persons that do. (This was meant forfacetiousness). If
they 're little I'm always afraid of breaking 'em, and if they're big they
break everything. My sister's got a lot, I think they 're the best
children I ever saw, but I don't often see 'em, because she knows I
don't exactly hanker after 'em, as Mrs. Barney Williams says. Seen
Mrs. Barney ? No ? You should, she's very great fun. They say
Piccolomini has made a fiasco in Paris, the French people won't
have her at any price, say she can't sing, and laugh at us for going
wild about her—you liked her ? Yes, all the ladies liked her, because
she was a lady herself, by birth, Sontag the same, you know, though it
was before your time. What a noise the wind makes, awful gales
everywhere. I know a fellah in the Waifs and Strays, government office,
F11 know,—and his time of leave is up, and as he's rather down in
the black books he ought to be coming over to-nigbt, wonder if
he will. He'll be a waif and stray himself if he does. (More
facetiousness.) Well, no, not a friend, but I should be sorry to
hear that old Piggy Carter had come to grief. Piggy—yes, we call
him so, chiefly because he hates it, I believe, his name's Piggott.
His mother's so proud of him that she used to call him her Piggott
diamond; there's a big stone of that name, you know. Archbishop
of Paris, yes, very shocking very funny the assassin's name should
be Verges, same name as in the play you know, where Dogberry comes.
Do you like the theatre ? I like to be amused, but there's nothing to
amuse one now, unless one takes a Hansom, and goes away into the wilds
at the east-end, places you never heard of, there's fun there, but it's a
bore to go so far. Any friends in China ? I only ask, because as you
may have heard, we've been breaking the crockery and one likes one's
mends to be out of the way of the pieces. How those young ones are
pitching into the cake. I got two things off the Tree, a baby in a cradle
and a gridiron, here's the gridiron on my watch, but I gave the baby
to Mrs. Wellington, over there. They've no children, and it's a
great griet to them, because his brother, whom he hates like fun will

come into the property, and it's a tender place with them, so I gave
her my baby, as one likes to be charitable, you know, but she did not
look very grateful. Seen any of the pantomimes ? Well, I don't
know which is the best; they 're all more or less stupid; besides,
there's no fun • they go in for a great show, and clown don't burn
pantaloon with hot pokers, and wop him, and all that. That makes me
scream, but I don't care about revolving stars and glittering abodes.
0 yes, I know all that, they are wonderfully clever, and the other's
only like big schoolboys, but I hanker after the hot poker. Browning,
no, I can't say I have. Is she an English person ? Very clever, I
suppose. There are such lots of clever persons now, that if one tries
to read up to the time of day, one would have no time for anything
else, so I wait till somebody tells me. But if you say Browning, I
shall send for it. I must remember her name—Browning—a brown-
done brown—I know— we had a row at the club about maccaroni, and
the cook stuck out it wanted no Browning, I shall remember. Now
the young ones are pretty well cleared out, I suppose we might stand
up. May I have—' &c, &c.

" There, my dear Mr. Punch, there is a little bit, and I believe I
have made it a great deal better than it was. Am 1 'too severe?'
They ought to be ashamed of themselves, great ridiculous idiots.10

" Yours, affectionately,
"Tuesday." "Mary Ann."

1 Much obliged.

2 Not one of them, Miss. »

3 Encouragement makes some people presumptuous. We indulge you too much.

4 That is a consolation.

5 How many more times are you to be told to speak of us otherwise than as part
of the aggregate multitude. Our soul is like a star, and dwells apart, young woman.

6 We never give up the letters of stupid correspondents, or we could make three
fortunes a year by our waste paper basket.

7 We merely put in an exhausted protest against this style of writing. It defies
criticism.

8 Mornings. If you mean that you sat up after a party to write, you are a foolish
little goose.

9 Which last you do very prettily, Maria Anna.

10 It seems to us that as partners go, you got a very lively and clever one.

ULTRA-PBOTESTANT PRECAUTION.

Though every man is supposed to be a fool or a physician at forty,
it appears that the science of spiritual medicine is not necessarily
acquired in the course of many more than that number of years, even
by those who have been studying it all their lives. The following
epistle, from a clerical pen, betrays the apprehension that a doctor of
divinity may possibly abjure sound doctrine in his old age, and turn
quack:—

To the Editor of the " Morning Herald''
"Sir,—As it is quite expected that a more general measure will be introduced
into Parliament for the pensioning of retiring Bishops, permit me to suggest that a
clause ought to be inserted in the Bill to the effect that any Bishop who shall, after
his retirement, secede to Rome, shall forfeit his pension granted by such a Bill.
Such a clause is evidently desirable, considering the Romanising tendencies of some
of the Episcopacy.

" Jan. 3rd." " i am, Sir, yours, Clericcs."

But, if it is fair to deprive a poor old prelate of his superannuation
allowance for turning Papist, why propose to limit the deprivation to
a particular case of perversion P Why_ should not_ an ex-bishop be
equally liable to lose his income for turning Methodist or Quaker, or.
at the imminent peril of his old body (at least), submitting to be ducked
as a particular Baptist ? By the time a bishop has qualified himself for
the episcopal pension-list, he may be presumed to have made up his
mind pretty well upon the subject of theology, and any change of mind,
at that time of life, on such a^ subject can only be that species of
change which involves irresponsibility. He would be about as likely
to go over to Borne as to go over to "Utah, and to join a confraternity
of friars as to enter the Agape-mone; and in the event of his doing
either of these things, why punish the poor old bishop for indulging in
a mere vagary of dotage.

How History is Written.

We all know that History is but another form of Bomance, especially
in the hands of a Frenchman. For instance, the "History of the
Empire," by Thiers, is only His-Story (and we need not say what kind
of a Story that is) of the different wars that took place with the
English in the Peninsula, and elsewhere.

homeopathic comfort.

There are some persons who are contented »vith very little. Look
at Lord Ernest. He is indifferent to public opinion—he is perfectly
satisfied, he says, with the esteem he has for himself. ■

The Money Market.—Get your money ready before getting out of
an Omnibus, and before going into Chancery,