DOI Heft:
July to December, 1844
DOI Seite / Zitierlink:https://doi.org/10.11588/diglit.16520#0019
12
PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHA.RLVAIIL
A WALK WITH MY WIPE ;
OK, CONJUGAL RATKS Qf CONVEYANCE.
H ! never get
married, my
boy ; never get
married, is the
admonition of
many an old
gentleman. 1
do not say that.
I daresay there
are some rea-
sonable women
in the world ;
if you can find
one, and like
her, marry her:
and probably
you will be
more comfort-
able, on the
whole, than if
you bad re-
mained single.
Recollect, bow-
ever, that ma-
trimony has
its troubles.
The chief of these is its expense. For double-blessedness you must pay a
double price. Marriage involves chop plus chop, steak plus steak,
tailor's bill plus milliner's, at least; mind that. This is domestic felicity
on the cheapest terms.
When you marry, if you have more money than you know what to do
with, go and live anywhere ; in Belgrave-square if you please. But
otherwise, if you possibly can, take a little place in the country. Depend
u\)on it that a cottage near a wood is eligible upon other than sentimental
grounds. Not only are rambles through avenues and green lanes pleasant
and salubrious in themselves ; but, mark !—there are no shops on either
side of you.
Arabella and I, before we were married, used to be constantly taking
long walks into the country. Above us was the blue firmanent ; around us
were hill and dale, fields, flowers, trees, meandering streams, rippling
brooks, cows, sheep, and other animals; all pleasing to behold. We
returned home in high spirits, and with a good appetite, both of us. We
had enjoyed ourselves greatly, and were no poorer than when we set out.
After marriage, my avocations compelling me to reside in town,
Arabella began gradually to lose her taste for scenery, and to take to
staying within doors, in consequence of which she became unwell. Our
medical man recommended exercise ; and I was obliged to insist on her
walking out with me.
I will not say where we live ; because I am not writing for my wife's
edification, but for that of the readers of Punch. We took a walk j ester-
day. Proceeding at a moderate pace, in about twenty minutes we found
ourselves in Oxford-street, near Regent-circus.
Here my wife, feeling herself a little tired and out of breath, declared
she could go no further. So we stopped ;—opposite to one of those real
nuisances to husbands—a linendraper'sshop, with windows of enormous
panes, and aheap of I know not how much finery, of all sorts and colours
in the same ; a regular wife-gin or lady-trap. Man-traps are abolished ;
and I am sure these ought to be.
I tried to direct Arabella's attention to the wood-pavement; it was of
no use : she was fascinated by that window ; and there she stood, like a
parish-boy before a dining-room larder. I feared how it would be, and
so it was. I was victimised for a thing that shone and glistened and
changed colour in different lights ; she called it a shot-silk—I wish the
man had been shot who put it there.
My wife now felt wonderfully recovered ; as able to walk, in fact, as
when we set out. Finding this, I proposed going up Portland Place to
the Regent's Park, where, if we wished, we might get a seat. But Ara-
bella was confident that she should require no such thing, and preferred
turning down Regent Street. After another stage of about thirty yards,
she wanted to rest herself again ; this time it was opposite to a jeweller's ;
of which the consequence was her purchasing some ear-rings, and my
paying for them. She remarked, as we recommenced our journey, that
she could get on very well by going short distances at a time, and then
stopping for a moment. So it appeared ; but after passing a shop where
there was a very rich shawl which she admired, she seemed to proceed
with much difficulty.
At about the middle of Regent Street, Arabella thought that by the
time we got back she should have had walking enough. I suggested that
we might extend our steps to the Quadrant. Whereat she fairly bargained
with me, in case of her so far exerting herself, for a certain love of a
bonnet which she had lately seen there, and which she knew would be
gone if she did not get it now. As this would not quite ruin me, and as
my wife, if any desire of her's is ungratified, is generally out of temper
for some days, I consented to get it for her.
I wish my wife and other ladies would come to an understanding with
their husbands, as to rates of travelling and conveyance ; as thus ;—
For One mile .... 3 Yards Ribbon.
Two do......1 Pair Silk Stockings.
Three do. . . .1 Pelisse do.
Four do......1 Boa.
Five do.....1 Muff, &c.
But I must not talk of muffs, I suppose, after the above confession.
However, I shall manage better in future. I do not object to ladies being
properly remunerated for their trouble in walking out with their hus-
bands ; but tl|e latter, on the principles of common prudence, should know
what they have to pay beforehand.
OXFORD PRIZE POEM.
e have been favoured with the follow-
ing poem, which we believe is the one
that gained the prize at Oxford. We
have only to say that if it did not it
should have done, for when we see the
sort of literary comicalities that gain
prizes we think the following must be
quite good enough to have obtained
university honours. The Prize Comedy
seems to have been selected as if it had been a prize ox, by the weight.
The subject of the Oxford Prize Poem is the
BATTLE OF THE NILE.
Loud booms the cannon o'er the quarter deck,
And Nelson feels 'tis nothing now or neck.
Behold the busy bomb and active shell
Strike where their fatal force is sure to tell.
The gallant Nelson draws his shining sword,
Victory, victory ! is now the word.
Now screams the terrified marine with dread,
While the brave tar defies the hissing lead.
Broadsides and bullets, cutlasses and shots,
He spurns, though even death his keen eye dots.
A fatal rifle from a hostile bark,
Now makes immortal Nelson its sure mark.
A carpenter beside him weeping kneels,
A faithful bos'un drunk before him reels,
While Collingwood hastes with the hostile flag,
To dress the wound—proud substitute for rag.
Neptune perceiving war has done its work,
Leans mournfully on his inverted fork,
Britannia and the Tritons sit and weep
Into the bosom of the briny deep.
The seagull gives a screech, as if't would say,
England has lost its hope, but won the day.
Even the very dolphins cease their sport,
Appearing wrapt in melancholy thought.
The whale his value doth unwitting spoil,
Curdling to very vinegar his oil.
And England weeps for a tremendous while
The memory of the Battle of the Nile.
moral.
Ye gallant admirals—ye noble tars,
Who seek in battle glory's frightful scars,
Take warning by immortal Nelson's fate,
And seek the cabin, ere it is too late.
saxony in danger.
We understand it has been thought necessary to appoint three of tl
police force to attend continually on the King of Saxony, to protect his
Majesty from the invincible politeness of Sir Peter Laurie.
an inscription for the house of commons.
"The most disgraceful, immoral, canting and hypocritical pro-
ceedings take place here !"—Thomas Wakley, Member for Finsbury,
June 19, 1844.____
the untuneful nine.
The Royal Exchange Clock has been stopping for the last month, at
1 minute after 9. What are the City Police about, that they do not tell it
to " move on ! "
PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHA.RLVAIIL
A WALK WITH MY WIPE ;
OK, CONJUGAL RATKS Qf CONVEYANCE.
H ! never get
married, my
boy ; never get
married, is the
admonition of
many an old
gentleman. 1
do not say that.
I daresay there
are some rea-
sonable women
in the world ;
if you can find
one, and like
her, marry her:
and probably
you will be
more comfort-
able, on the
whole, than if
you bad re-
mained single.
Recollect, bow-
ever, that ma-
trimony has
its troubles.
The chief of these is its expense. For double-blessedness you must pay a
double price. Marriage involves chop plus chop, steak plus steak,
tailor's bill plus milliner's, at least; mind that. This is domestic felicity
on the cheapest terms.
When you marry, if you have more money than you know what to do
with, go and live anywhere ; in Belgrave-square if you please. But
otherwise, if you possibly can, take a little place in the country. Depend
u\)on it that a cottage near a wood is eligible upon other than sentimental
grounds. Not only are rambles through avenues and green lanes pleasant
and salubrious in themselves ; but, mark !—there are no shops on either
side of you.
Arabella and I, before we were married, used to be constantly taking
long walks into the country. Above us was the blue firmanent ; around us
were hill and dale, fields, flowers, trees, meandering streams, rippling
brooks, cows, sheep, and other animals; all pleasing to behold. We
returned home in high spirits, and with a good appetite, both of us. We
had enjoyed ourselves greatly, and were no poorer than when we set out.
After marriage, my avocations compelling me to reside in town,
Arabella began gradually to lose her taste for scenery, and to take to
staying within doors, in consequence of which she became unwell. Our
medical man recommended exercise ; and I was obliged to insist on her
walking out with me.
I will not say where we live ; because I am not writing for my wife's
edification, but for that of the readers of Punch. We took a walk j ester-
day. Proceeding at a moderate pace, in about twenty minutes we found
ourselves in Oxford-street, near Regent-circus.
Here my wife, feeling herself a little tired and out of breath, declared
she could go no further. So we stopped ;—opposite to one of those real
nuisances to husbands—a linendraper'sshop, with windows of enormous
panes, and aheap of I know not how much finery, of all sorts and colours
in the same ; a regular wife-gin or lady-trap. Man-traps are abolished ;
and I am sure these ought to be.
I tried to direct Arabella's attention to the wood-pavement; it was of
no use : she was fascinated by that window ; and there she stood, like a
parish-boy before a dining-room larder. I feared how it would be, and
so it was. I was victimised for a thing that shone and glistened and
changed colour in different lights ; she called it a shot-silk—I wish the
man had been shot who put it there.
My wife now felt wonderfully recovered ; as able to walk, in fact, as
when we set out. Finding this, I proposed going up Portland Place to
the Regent's Park, where, if we wished, we might get a seat. But Ara-
bella was confident that she should require no such thing, and preferred
turning down Regent Street. After another stage of about thirty yards,
she wanted to rest herself again ; this time it was opposite to a jeweller's ;
of which the consequence was her purchasing some ear-rings, and my
paying for them. She remarked, as we recommenced our journey, that
she could get on very well by going short distances at a time, and then
stopping for a moment. So it appeared ; but after passing a shop where
there was a very rich shawl which she admired, she seemed to proceed
with much difficulty.
At about the middle of Regent Street, Arabella thought that by the
time we got back she should have had walking enough. I suggested that
we might extend our steps to the Quadrant. Whereat she fairly bargained
with me, in case of her so far exerting herself, for a certain love of a
bonnet which she had lately seen there, and which she knew would be
gone if she did not get it now. As this would not quite ruin me, and as
my wife, if any desire of her's is ungratified, is generally out of temper
for some days, I consented to get it for her.
I wish my wife and other ladies would come to an understanding with
their husbands, as to rates of travelling and conveyance ; as thus ;—
For One mile .... 3 Yards Ribbon.
Two do......1 Pair Silk Stockings.
Three do. . . .1 Pelisse do.
Four do......1 Boa.
Five do.....1 Muff, &c.
But I must not talk of muffs, I suppose, after the above confession.
However, I shall manage better in future. I do not object to ladies being
properly remunerated for their trouble in walking out with their hus-
bands ; but tl|e latter, on the principles of common prudence, should know
what they have to pay beforehand.
OXFORD PRIZE POEM.
e have been favoured with the follow-
ing poem, which we believe is the one
that gained the prize at Oxford. We
have only to say that if it did not it
should have done, for when we see the
sort of literary comicalities that gain
prizes we think the following must be
quite good enough to have obtained
university honours. The Prize Comedy
seems to have been selected as if it had been a prize ox, by the weight.
The subject of the Oxford Prize Poem is the
BATTLE OF THE NILE.
Loud booms the cannon o'er the quarter deck,
And Nelson feels 'tis nothing now or neck.
Behold the busy bomb and active shell
Strike where their fatal force is sure to tell.
The gallant Nelson draws his shining sword,
Victory, victory ! is now the word.
Now screams the terrified marine with dread,
While the brave tar defies the hissing lead.
Broadsides and bullets, cutlasses and shots,
He spurns, though even death his keen eye dots.
A fatal rifle from a hostile bark,
Now makes immortal Nelson its sure mark.
A carpenter beside him weeping kneels,
A faithful bos'un drunk before him reels,
While Collingwood hastes with the hostile flag,
To dress the wound—proud substitute for rag.
Neptune perceiving war has done its work,
Leans mournfully on his inverted fork,
Britannia and the Tritons sit and weep
Into the bosom of the briny deep.
The seagull gives a screech, as if't would say,
England has lost its hope, but won the day.
Even the very dolphins cease their sport,
Appearing wrapt in melancholy thought.
The whale his value doth unwitting spoil,
Curdling to very vinegar his oil.
And England weeps for a tremendous while
The memory of the Battle of the Nile.
moral.
Ye gallant admirals—ye noble tars,
Who seek in battle glory's frightful scars,
Take warning by immortal Nelson's fate,
And seek the cabin, ere it is too late.
saxony in danger.
We understand it has been thought necessary to appoint three of tl
police force to attend continually on the King of Saxony, to protect his
Majesty from the invincible politeness of Sir Peter Laurie.
an inscription for the house of commons.
"The most disgraceful, immoral, canting and hypocritical pro-
ceedings take place here !"—Thomas Wakley, Member for Finsbury,
June 19, 1844.____
the untuneful nine.
The Royal Exchange Clock has been stopping for the last month, at
1 minute after 9. What are the City Police about, that they do not tell it
to " move on ! "