Punch: Punch (76.1879)

166

PUNCH, OK THE LONDON CHARIVARI.

[April 12, 1879.

A CHOICE OF EVILS,

Mamma. "Now, Arthur, re a good Boy, and take your Medicine, or Mamma will

be very angry ! "

Arthur {after mature deliberation). "I would rather Mamma was very Angry!"

THE MARKED MAN.

{A Song of the " Black Book" lij a Gaol
Bird.)

'Im as is spoony on a gal,
Wot hacts of foolishness 'e '11 do !

These here blue letters by a pal
Was done in wot they call " tatoo."

A fish, a hanker, and a 'art,

The hemblem of my hammerus flame ;
And Cupig runnin' of 'is dart

Through Mary, which it wos her name.

It ain't no good, recource to fiction ;

Yer can't plead fust offence no more,
Wen many and many a past conwiction

Agin yer name is hon the score.

Wasn't I hall-marked but too plain,
With two cock heyes and nose awry ?

My skin for hever thus to stain
0 wot a blessed fool wos I!

'Ow could a prig be sitch a moke ?

Them prints will last till my decease.
Once lagged, I am a spotted bloke—

A party known to the Perlice.

In quod the Sun you can't fight shy on,
And in your photo out you 're drored :

No negative a chap can't try on,
When by 'is positive 'e's floored.

'Im as 'is photo at the Old Bailey 'as,
And, in the bargain, is tatooea,

Pris'n orthorities with a halias,
The more fool he, cannot delood !

Now penial servitude's my potion,
My fare, wus luck, skilfigolee !

Of witch I 'd not the slightest notion
Wen " Mary " wos tatooed on me.

our plants of prey.

The Contemporary Review for April con-
tains an article on " Carnivorous Plants."
Jesters will remark that amongst these no
mention whatever is made either of the
Tiger Lily or the Dandelion.

second-hand." It strikes me I never have heard of a second-hand
cabbage, for example.

"I do grow them," he says; " but I can't get the gardener to give
them me when I want them. My potatoes are all old before they're
new. And as to cucumbers—it takes him half a year to grow one ;
and when all the asparagus is finished in London, then my gardener
triumphantly produces a bundle as a treat."

This does not sound encouraging. But get Mosthyn Dickie alone
and walking round his farm and about his grounds, and splendid
wall-fruit and kitchen garden, where everything is admirably kept—
" I don't want 'em kept" he says, " I want 'em for use,"—and then
I hear quite another tale. Offer him so much down to leave the
place, with another ready to go into. Would he accept ? Not he.
Offer any one of his servants from the bailiff downwards, double the
wages to enter somebody else's service, would they accept? Not they.

I see baskets of eggs in the house, pans of cream in the dairy,
sheep, cows, bullocks, enough to provide a garrison for six months.
Mosthyn Dickie has his grumble—he thinks it does good ; in fact,
I believe that he—the kindest and most generous of masters—-abso-
lutely fancies himself a martinet who has his eye everywhere, and
knows, to the fraction of a wine-glass or an egg, what goes on in
the house or out of it.

But his plan with his employes is really Dr. Arnold's Rugby
system with the Sixth Form. They are all on their honour, as it
were. They have an excellent employer, and the youngest servant in
the place has been with Mosthyn Dickie at least ten years. But
Mosthyn Dickie was born to protest against everything. Fate had
called him Mosthyn Dickie, when he ought to have been Dicky
Mosthyn—and there's an end of it.

It is the very perfection of a house to stop at—and this being the
case—

Happy Thought.—Stop here for the present—and so winter having,
I hope, passed away, I conclude this series of Friends at a Distance.

INJYABLE INJIA;

notes and sketches of a specially-commissioned artist.
By FUZZELI PPJNCEPS.

Chapter III.

Everything Jolly— Visits to Swells—Holkar, Polkar 8f Co.—Bummi
on the Scoop—Khan—Can't —Difficulties—No Jolly Error-
Umbrella and Hat—Whose—What Cheer—The Jolly Admiral
— On we goes again.

Next Day.—Aurora, flushed and ruddy, prepares the way for
glorious Phcebus Apollo, the heavenly alchemist, in his Eastern
chariot of burnished gold.* He comes like a luminous orange, bril-
liant, magnificent, glorious, gorgeous, superb, jolly! Such a sunrise
awaited me—I was a little late, but there it was—as , I turned the
corner of Hydeparrak, Pikkah-Delhi. In such language (as I have
above written) 1 described the effect of colour, through my servant,
Eummi, to the Begum of Dorajah, who archly observed that I should
be called in her own tongue agushar, i.e. a rhapsodical poet.

But though I have my gifts as a poet, painter, author, sportsman,
rider, boxer, and so forth, I don't boast; I only reply " Me voila ! I
am a real jolly good fellow, and so say all of us, with three Indian
cheers, 1 Hipp ! Hipp ! Hippoo ! Hoorajah ." "

Same Day.—Called on Holkar. He was delighted to see me, as

* Note from F. P. to Editor.—Here's your real classic style, eh ? Some-
thing extra for this. , . ,

Editor to F. P.—Very good. A little over the heads of the Public, which
prefers plain unvarnished tale. ,,.

F. P. to Editor.—Right you are ! The Sun is over the heads of the Public.
I don't varnish tales; I varnish pictures. No matter: shall drop the clas-
sical. " Luminous orange " is effective, isn't it ? Even Penny Whistler
might relish this.