Punch (55.1868)

276

PUNCH, OR, THE LONDON CHARIVARI.

[December 26, 1868.



WHAT’S IN A NAME?”

Waiter (to nervous invalid). “There’s the old Church, Sir, close by, but
some Visitors goes to St. Wobbleoe’s, Sir. There the Clergyman preaches
Distehpery!! ”

[Clearly not the place for Mm, the old gentleman thinks, with a shudder.

A FOGEY’S CONTENT.

There was never a blessing invented

To compare with a mind that’s contented—
We ’ve all often wished what,

If our wish we had got,

Having wished we should soon have repented.

In my young days a girl once I sighed for.

Had I then married her whom I tried for,

I might have a fat wife,

I, at my time of life,

And grown-up girls and boys to provide for.

Now myself I have only to care for.

I rejoice most exceedingly therefore ;

Eor my means are so small,

That I’ve nothing at all,

Any others with comfort to spare for.

To my lot I but need the addition

Of more money to purchase fruition.

“ You were better without,

You’d perhaps get the gout;

Fond of burgundy.” True, 0 Physician !

There is something in that observation.

Let me add it to my consolation,

Smith cut me out of Ann,

Smith, poor family man !

There, I ’in not in old Smith’s situation !

You young fellows in love unrequited,

Lads rejected, or jilted, or slighted,

Very likely yon may
Live, as I do to say

You are glad your affections were blighted.

Fine Writing.

According to the Times, a correspondent of the Leeds
Mercury, speaking of the new Lord Chancellor, states that
Westminster Abbey “witnesses his daily entrance at an
hour when a third of the Metropolis is in a position of
recumbency.” Translated from fine English into plain
English, these last words are supposed to mean “ when a
third of the Metropolis is in bed.”

I

ODD MEN OUT.

THE MAN WITH AN EYE.—(Continued.)

The Man with an Eye when out of doors is always picking out
what he calls “ pretty bits,” and exhibiting nature or art to yon like a
showman.

The Crystal Palace was a great boon to the Man with an Eye, being
a “point of sight” from everywhere. The Alan with an Eye is never
tired of the Crystal Palace at a distance. He discovers it in Piccadilly,
and when you are in the middle of your good story, or are about to
make your bow to Lady Suhboddie, he stops you suddenly with,
“ There it is ! Look! You can see it from here ! ” adding, cunningly,
“ You didn’t think you could see it from here ? ”

“ See what ? ” you exclaim, inclined to be unphilosophically annoyed.

“ Why,” he returns, almost indignant at your supposing that there
could be two distant objects of equal interest, “ The Palace, to be sure.
The Crystal Palace,” he explains, so as to remove all chance of your
saying, “ Yes, I see, Buckingham Palace,” and looking in a wrong
direction. The Man with an Eye, being generally a thorough Cockney,
will, when pointing out some unexpected peep at the Crystal Palace
from the Seven Dials or Great Coram Street, generally lecture in this
fashion

“ Lor’, talk of country and beautiful views, you only want to know
London well, and yon’d never care about going out of it. Look there !
What’s finer than that?” meaning, of course, one of the above-
mentioned glimpses of the Crystal Palace.

If you are a great traveller and have seen the principal cities and
■countries of the world, you will suddenly find yourself entirely at fault
and utterly unable to produce at short notice a rival to the scene which
he puts before you. Your memory for comparisons fails you before the
-stupendous impudence of the Man with an Eye.

He is immense on light and shade. He takes you to the corner of a
street craftily, as if you were going to catch a weasel asleep, or were
afraid of disturbing somebody at prayers, and exclaims—

“ There ! Isn’t that a good little bit! Quite a Dore effect, eh ? ”

The effect in question being a ray of sun-light on the left side of a
lamp-post.

You reply depreciatingly : I used to do so before I knew my man, or
I disputed "the phenomenon on principles of art, of which 1 flattered
myself my knowledge was at least equal to his.

Both processes just mentioned are equally good if yon’ve the whole
day to yourself; but equally bad if you haven’t, for they lead him
into discussion and disquisition. The better way is to say: “Yes,
capital,” if he will stop you. But the best mode of dealing with him
is not to allow yourself to be stopped.

1 am in the Strand with Benton. He halts, and I find myself face
to face with a dirty little boy selling oranges.

“ There !” exclaims Benton; “there’s a study for a AIurillo.”

The study for Murillo soon discovering that our object is not com-
mercial as regards his oranges, asks Benton : “ What he’s a twiggiu
of a cove for 1” and treats him to some kind inquiries as to his poor
feet, and announcements of his intention to possess himself at some
future time of his (Benton’s) hat. I point out to Benton that study-
ing Murillo in this fashion will bring a crowd about us, and we
move on.

I have noticed that ladies stand in some sort of fear of Benton.
Why ? Because Benton, in his capacity of The Man with an Eye,
sets up for a critic on dress, its style, cut, and colour.

He will click his glass into his eye (he always does this as if by machi-
nery), and from some safe stand-point will examine a lady’s toilette in
detail. If Benton knows her very well—(he is not a marrying man,
but they think he is, and the wish is father to the thought, for he’s worth
catching)—the lady will ask him point blank if he does or does not like
her costume. Benton will reply cautiously at first, but, overcome by
the compliment paid to his judgment, will end (in all probability) with
a sweeping condemnation. If unasked, he will advance smilingly, and
beg to be allowed to congratulate Miss or Mrs. Skimmery upon her
dress. “It is,” he says, “perfect! charming! ! in exquisite taste ! ! ”
and so on ; and, if you are of opinion that such matters had better be