Punch: Punch (32.1857)

78

PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. [February 21, 1857.

PAH'S VALENTINE TO BEITANNIA.-1857.

Do declare, my dear Bri-
tannia,
I love no other sweet-
heart than yer;
You is a duck and dar-
ling, you is,
Now just see what I've
done with Lewis.
\V|That Sixteen-pence that
^ X '^$^\V made you shrewish,

,,N\ 4 fc>n He'd haTe kert 011 b^

i\^kMvWx\> dodge 30 jewish'

fM&M^j^ But I hare made him cut

it down

gT;=3; To Seven, so now you
\\ _' ~ need not frown;
p \% There, ducky, since I've
= cut off Nine,

=~ Accept me for your

Valentine.

Cupid.

Feb. Uth.

MEDDLERS WITH MATRIMONY.

A Piece of sound philosophy is a rarity in these times.
Here, however, is a genuine sample of that scarce com-
modity, extracted from a leading article in the Times paper: —

"It is certainly observable that the subject of marriage is one upon
which false religion is remarkably tender."

In illustration of this truth are cited the following

instances :—

" The Manioheans would not allow the elect to marry ; the Roman
church does not allow the priests to marry ; the Hindoo religion does
not allow widows to marry."

To the above list of examples may be added this one
more :—Certain inconsistent and unreasoning Protestants
refuse to allow a widower to marry his deceased wife's
sister.

The Belles Lettres.

A Bond Street Milliner, with more truth than elegance,
sent home a lady's dress with a letter, which began thus:—
" My dear Madam, this comes hoqp-mg," &c.

Beginning at the Wrong End. — Instead of at-
tempting to deodorise the Thames, would it not be as well
to begin first by deodorising the Court of Aldermen ?

PUNCH'S COMPLETE TRADESMAN.

Being a Series of Dialogues, composed by that gentleman, with the aid of
the Ingenious Doctor of Medicine, Arthur Hill Hassall,* and by
means of which a young Tradesman may loork his way to Respect-
ability and Prosperity in this World.

No. I.

Mr. Rancid, the Butterman. Patts, his Apprentice. Scrape, the
Boy. The sh utters have just been put up.

Mr. Rancid {turning down the gas ?iearly out). Well, Patts, thou hast
been with us a month. How do'st like the butter-shop, Patts ?

Patts. If, dear Sir, I give you as much satisfaction as you can expect
from a begimier, I am perfectly happy.

Scrape {privately to a firkin). Walker !

Mr. Rancid. A becoming answer, Patts. To the willing and
respectful apprentice, it is his master's duty and pleasure to impart all
the instruction in his power.

Patts. Dear Mr. Rancid, you shall indeed find me grateful for
instruction.

Mr. Rancid. I doubt it not, Patts. Now, Patts, what is Butter?

Patts. You jest, dear Sir. {Laughs heartily.

Mr. Rancid {not displeased). I did not mean to jest, my good lad.

Scrape (aside). Don't see no jest. Old bloke! Young humbug !

Patts {rigidly grave). I humbly ask your forgiveness, Sir. Youth is
proue to levity. I will amend in future. You were pleased to ask me
what Butter is. I suppose it to be made from cream, which is collected,
from time to time, in a covered jar, and when it becomes sour, is
churned, washed, and kneaded, and, if intended for salt butter, salted.

Mr. Rancid. Good boy, good memory. Thou hast described to me
the original article, and that which purchasers believe that they buy
from thee across my counter.

Patts. And do they not, dear Sir. Surety we do not defraud them ?

Mr. Rancid. Use no untradesmanlike language, my lad. When I
tell thee that did I sell that article to my customers, I could keep no
gig for thy dear mistress, and that she could have but few new dresses
within the year, thou wilt feel, for thou art a kind boy, and lovest the
ladies, (nay,^ blush not, to do so in honesty is good for thee,) that I
pursue the right course.

Scrape {savagely, aside). Wish there wasn't no gigs in the world,
aud then they wouldn't want no cleanin'.

Patts. Can I doubt it, Sir?

Mr. Rancid. Listen then. It is needful to make, out of a pound of
the original articie, as much more than a pound as we can. There are
various ways of doiug this. One is to incorporate—dost understand
the word ?—

Patts. I do, Sir.

Mr. Rancid. Explain it.

Patts. I can't, Sir.

Scrape {scornfully,aside). A pretty specimen of a prize jackhass you are!
Mr. Rancid. To mix up with it large quantities of water. This is

* Not to put too fine a point upon it, Mr. Punch may as well state that the Doctor,
or rather his extraordinary work, called Adulterations Detected, must be made the
victim of the mercantile vengeance which these Dialogues will arouse in the British
Tradesman.

done as follows:—The butter is brought to the melting point, and
water and salt are then stirred in untfl the mixture has become cold.

Patts. May I ask what proportion is thus gained, Sir ?

Mr. Rancid. I like thy query, it speaks of arithmetic. The original
article should contain 2? per cent, of salt and 10 per cent, of water.
The manufactured article, my good lad, and especially that which
Guardians of the Poor permit us to supply to the Paupers, oft con-
tains 14 per cent, of salt and 15 per cent, of water.

Scrape {aside). Ah, don't it just, and don't I know it!

Patts. And are there no other ways, dear Sir ?

Mr. Rancid. Of a surety there are. At particular times, of which I
will hereafter instruct thee, starch, usually pot atoe flour, maybe added.
We can also do somewhat with curds. And sometimes, but less often,
animal fats and lard are used by us.

Patts. But, dear Sir, if I might speak ?—

Mr. Rancid. Speak, good lad.

Patts. Why not take a simpler way of making more of the pound ?
Mr. Rancid. Let us hear thee, boy.

Patis. Why not, dear Sir, privately affix a piece of lead below the
scale in Avhich we weigh the butter ?

Scrape {aside). So they did at my last place, and didn't I inform,
in rewenge for kickin' !

Mr. Rancid. Eirstly, boy, because the law employs minions to hunt up
such contrivances, and punish them, though but slightly; and, secondly,
because they are not considered respectable. But thou art right to
think, and to ask. Art an early riser ?

Patts. Early to bed and early to rise is the way to be—

Mr. Rancid. Good. To-morrow morning thou wilt rise at three.

Patts. At two, Sir, if it will please you.

Mr. Rancid. At three. I will show thee another of the secrets of
our business. I have some Epping Butter to get.

Patts. And are we going to Epping, Sir ? O, I love the Forest!

Mr. Rancid. Thou shaft go thither, some day. But to-morrow our
Epping is in yonder kitchen. I have some Lish salt butter, of a very
inferior character, out of which we will wash the salt, and then we
will wash our butter frequently with milk, and we will add a little
sugar, and the best fresh Epping (which thou wilt be able to say
arrived this day), will be ready for our customers to-morrow. I have a
reputation for my delicate Epping.

Patts. And a profitable one, dear Sir, doubtless ?

Mr. Rancid. Of upwards of one hundred per cent., my good lad.
Live, and let five. {Observes Scrape, who hastens to swallow something)
Profligate parish brat, whose destiny is the gibbet, thou hast stolen a
piece of my cheese.

Scrape {piteously). A werry little bit, Sir, and I had no dinner, Sir.

Mr. Rancid. Because, loitering on an errand, thou didst miss it. Idle,
and a thief, how canst thou hope to prosper ? To-morrow, I will take
order that thou shalt be imprisoned and whipped. To bed, Patts, my
good lad, for thou hast to be astir with the lark.

Scrape {bitterly aside). A jolly lark, I don't think.

\Weeps, but recovering himself, with the elasticity of youth, wipes his
eyes and bursts into the now popular street refrain

'' Black yer shoes and brush yer clothes,
Two black eyes and a—crimson—nose— i
I '11 Warm yer." ' \

[Goes to bed under the counter