Punch: Punch (69.1875)

Decbmbeb 11, 1875.] PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. _ 243

LES PAUVRES DE PARIS.

The Correspondent of the Daily Tele-
graph tells us that" the other day Peincess
DoLGOUEOURYwore a pelisse made entirely
of ermine studded all over with diamonds
set in turquoises; " also that "the cloaks
to be seen on the fair shoulders of the
Pbincesse de Sagan, Madame de Tal-
leyrand, and Madame de Rothschild
represent each, in fur alone, a value of
£4000 sterling." This is going too fur
with a vengeance! Somebody ought to
interfere, and take up the subject, as
this is evidently a "great Pelisse case."
Seriously, aren't there any poor in Paris ?
Isn't it going to be a hard winter? and,
instead of four thousand covering the value
of one of these cloaks, wouldn't _ one of
these cloaks cover the freezing misery of
four thousand, and, in the end, consider-
ably enrich the wearer? The Parisian
unscriptural motto seems to be, just now,
" Fiat Luxe."

DELIGHTFUL ESCORT.

Small Boy. "Now, then, Mum, give us ter Hand, and we'll Slide yer down easy,

and ton Chaps 'll Stop us !"

A Reformed Character.

Remember, remember,

Be just to November,
Now ended and vanished away":

By Magog and Gog,

"Was there ever a fog,
Save that on my Lord Mayor's Day ?

A New Reading of Mr. Irving's in
Macbeth. — "Throw Physique to the
dogs!"

" Why do you wear such monstrous boots, and why do you carry
so terrible a bludgeon ? "

The scoundrel grinned a hideous grin, and answered, " Just to
keep my Missus 'n order with, Guv'nor."

" And what animal is this ? " asked Punch.

" The animals repudiate him."

" "Well, then, what is he called ? "

" He is called—a Man! "

* , * * * #

" You have been making such a'noise in your sleep, Master," said
Toby.

" So would you, if you had seen the Man-Show," replied Punch,
rubbing his eyes, and recovering from his slumber.

" The Man-Show ! Why, what is it like ? "

" I will tell you," answered Punch, now quite wide awake. "It
is twice as instructive, but not half so amusing, as the Cattle-Show
in Islington!"

THE SENSIBLE GHOSTS.

A Story for Christmas.

I could not speak, I could not move. My tongue clove to the roof
of my mouth, and my arms hung listlessly beside me. And as I
gazed at the Shadowy Figure the candles in the sockets began to burn
a faint blue. 0 that I could forget 1 0 that I could forget!

And even as I looked at the first Shadowy Figure the door opened,
and a second Ghost entered the room, and my brain reeled, and 1
felt old before my time.

" Have you got it? " The voice sounded so sepulchral. It was
the second Ghost who was speaking.

" Not yet! " was the terrible blood-freezing reply.

I summoned up all my courage. I am generally considered a
brave man, and I nerved myself for the task, the terrible task
before me.

" "What do you want here ? " My voice sounded so strange that
I scarcely recognised it. It seemed to be the voice of a horror-
stricken lunatic.

" We must have it! " shrieked the first Ghost. " "We cannot rest
without it! It is our only solace ! It consoles us all the year round!
"We read it together, and forget (so entranced are we in its_ glorious
pages) to roam about the castles we were appointed originally to
haunt. For your own sake give it to us, and you shall not see us
again until next year."
"Take it from him by force! " shouted the second Ghost. " Tell

I had been sitting before the fire reading. In my hand had been
a small red book—bound in leather. For hours the walls of the old | him that we will have it! "

oak dining-room had echoed and re-echoed with my roars of heart- I The beads of perspiration gathered thickly on my brow. I

felt laughter

0 it was a good book. A clever one. Full of quaint stories and
brim-full of excellent pictures. It conveyed information too most
useful to professional men. I was a professional man myself, and
I had found it useful—very useful.

And I had read this excellent book twice from beginning to end.
The fire was going out, and the candles were burning low in their
sockets. I got up to go to bed. As I rose from my chair the clock
struck twelve. The clock of the village church hard-by. I could
not account for it, but the tones of the old church clock filled me
with a sort of strange alarm—a feeling of vague mistrust. "Why
was it ?

1 rose to go, I repeat, when facing me I found a Shadowy Figure!
There was no doubt about it. My blood froze in my veins, the hairs
of my head stood on end. I was in the presence of a Ghost!

The Shadowy Figure glided across the floor towards the table. 0
that I could forget that moment of intense dread ! Even now my
cheek blanches, and my hand trembles as I write of it! It was too
terrible I too awfully terrible I

trembled in every limb.

" What do you want, Gentlemen ? "
" Mr. Punch's Pocket Book for 1876."

When I recovered from my swoon the apparitions and the red
leather-covered book were gone!! !

Proverbial Philosophy.

Oue quaint old proverbs are continually receiving illustration
from modern doings and sayings. For example. The Town
Council of Maidenhead (charming retreat! inseparably associated
with the memory of delightful dinners) have been specially enter-
taining a proposition to the effect "that the Mayor do receive a
salary of £250 a-year." Now, can any one doubt that those who
advocated this munificent proposal were influenced by the recollec-
tion of the sterling adage which instructs us that " Money makes
the Mayor to go " ?