Punch / Almanack (1874)

[December 18, 1873.

PUNCH’S ALMANACK FOE 1874.

INTANGIBILITY.

Severe Scotch Schoolmistress (visiting some English Friends). “Sir Joshua Reynolds, is it? Ah! vara Pretty! And Cherubs do vara weel in a Picture; but I dinna care

FOR BairniES WHOSE FEELINGS I CAF’T APPEAL TO ! ”

A FEW QUERIES.

Do you envy the Critic who has to read i
all the new novels of the week ?

Do you envy the Official who has to go
through all the comedies, tragedies, j
farces,, melodramas, pantomimes, and
burlesques, which are brought out on the
Stage in the course of the year ?

Do you envy the Householder who has
poultry'to the right of him, dogs to the I
left of him, a street much favoured by j
costermongers to the rear of him, and a
piano with a musical family opposite to
him?

Do you envy your neighbour Dinning,
with his four boys all at home for the
Christmas holidays, and two young-
friends with them ?

Do you envy Princes, Policemen, Prime
Ministers, Postmen, Editors, Head Mas-
ters, and Omnibus Conductors ?

THE OLD AND NEW YEAR.

As the days are getting in,

There are people who grow thin ;

Whilst the daj s are getting out.

Other people then grow stout.

. '' - _'_

A Real Hero.—Think for a moment of
that man's petils and adventures! The
African traveller cannot approach them ;
the Arctic Explorer cannot hope to equal
them. He had sat upon thorns, stood
on the verge of a precipice, fallen be-
tween two stools, been riveted to the
spot, gone through fire and water, flung
himself into the breach, raised a storm in
a teacup, bearded a lion in his den, taken
a bull by the horns, gone on wildgoose
chases, played with edged-tools, cut off
his nose to spite his face, burnt his
fingers, stood between two fires, paved
the way, broken the ice, strained every
nerve to raise the sinews of war, and left
no stone unturned to gain the summit of
his ambition. The last time we heard of
him, after running the gauntlet and
escaping from the horns of a dilemma, he
had been on tenter-hooks, and was then
preparing to jump out of the frying-pan
into the fire.

A Ytouthful Attachment.—Our green-
grocer and head-waiter, who is an old
bachelor, confesses that he was once in
love—in his salad days.

“ HARMLESS.”

Cockney Sporting Gent. “ But I think it’s a. ’En ! ”

Sandy (his Keeper). “ Shoot, Man, Shoot! She’ll be no Muckle the Waur o’ ye! !”

CHRISTMAS CARDS.

From the Kimmeridges. with an in-
vitation to dinner, which the experience
of many winters tells you will he formal,
heavy, and tedious, mild in its menu,
and mysterious in its wines.

From the De Bo yards, to an “At
Home,” where you will meet with no
one you know, and from which you will
make your escape with relief.

From the long-established and only
genuine and authentic Waits of the parinh
of St. Maximus, soliciting you for some
small pecuniary compliment in return
for their musical services during the past
month.

From your Cousin in Norfolk (a post-
card), announcing that in consequence of
a mysterious disease which has made
great ravages amongst his Turkeys, he
will not be able to send you one this
Christmas.

From Aunt Uggathorne—the relict of
your Uncle James—(likewise a post-card)
to say that she intends coming over from
Dalston to spend the day and stay all
night on Thursday, when you expect the
Granby Palmers and ten other people to
dinner.

From the Incumbent of the Parish of
Grabthorpe, in Northumberland, asking
your kind assistance towards the restora-
tion of an ancient Campanile, the only
known example of the Arabesque period
of architecture.

TEMPERANCE NURSERY RHYME.
Charley loves good milk and tea;

Charley loves good coffee ;
Charley loves a pretty girl
As sweet as Everton Toffee.

Domestic Discord.—The clocks dif-
fered and were at sixes and sevens, the
fire-irons fell out—the tongs being par-
ticularly noisy—the bellows came to
blows, one table groaned and another
was in a roar, the doors were quite
unhinged, the kettle boiled over, and
the jams and preserves jarred with each
other.

Uncommon Lusus Natural— An ele-
phant with two trunks arrives at the
Zoological Gardens.