Punch (14.1848)

32

PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.

THE EXILED LONDONER.

"Sinck I have been at this place I have lost as many as three copies of The Times in
* week, while Punch was as regularly stolen as it was posted."—Times, Jan. 10.

With black ennui the Exile sits,
Watching the rain-drops as
they fall;
The bluebottle about him flits,
That ate the peach on the gar-
den wall.
No Times nor Punch, 'tis very
strange;
Unlifted is the iron latch ;
Of papers he's without the
batcn

That gives his days their only
change.

At first he only said, " Oh deary !

The post is late," he said ;
"Of waiting I am rather wean',
I would my Punch 1 'd read."

About the middle of the day
The postman's form its shadow
cast,

The door he sought with foot-
steps gay,
The Times and Punch are here
at last.

•Out with them; but 'tis very strange,

The envelope is open torn—

'Tis but the Herald of the morn ;
His paper they have dared to change.
He only said, "The Herald's dreary,

Dreary indeed," he said;
** Its very look has made me weary;

It never can be read."

The crickets chirrup on the hearth,
The slow clock ticking—and the sound

Of rain upon the gravel path
That hems the Exile's cottage round ;

All these, but most of all the power
Of sleep after an anxious day,
Up-stairs had hurried him away.

He paced his chamber for an hour,

Then said he, " This indeed is dreary,

My Times, my Punch," he saia,
" Without vou I am alwavs weary ;
I '11 tumble into bed."

THE MODEL MAID-OF-ALL-WORK.

Upon some stones—a hillock small,

The Londoner in exile leapt,
And over objects large and small
A telescopic watch he kept ;

He saw the postman walk away, _ —~ ' JB*S8S!F~~ Her age is 11. Iter arms are bare, and her teet slipshod. Her curls

He gazed till it was nearly dark ■_ .are rareb 0111 1,1 paper. She sports a clean apron on the Sunday, about
Then onlv made this sad remark, "t^SP 9 ^Kg&a tea-time. It is a mystery where she sleeps; some say the kitchen, in

one of the large drawers ; and others declare she has a turn-up bed in
the hall-clock ; but it is not known for positive whether she ever goes to

■"Nor Times nor Punch will come

to-day."
He only said "'Tis very dreary
They do not come," he said ;

"While I for want of them am weary,
They 're elsewhere being read."

And even when the moon was low,

And the shrill winds a game did play,
Blowing the sign-boards to and fro,
As if 'twould blow them right away ;

He'd with the spider, as it climbs,
Ho'd converse — asking it'

'twould tell
Whether the postman dared to
sell

The weekly Punch and daily
Times.

He only said, " 'Tis very dreary,

Dreary indeed," he said ;
"Of life I'm almost getting
weary,

My Times and Punch unread."

All day within the dreamy house
His shoes had in the passage
creak'd;
The maid-of-all-work, like a
mouse,

Out of her master's presence
sneak'd.

Or from the kitchen peer'd about,
Or listen'd at the open doors,
To hear his footsteps tread the
floors

With the short, hurried pace of
doubt.

She only said, "My master's weary,

And angry too," she said :
She said, " Oh deary me ! oh deary !

I wish he 'd go to bed."

bed at all. She has a wonderful affection for the cat. Everything that
is missed, or lost, or broken, or not eaten, she gives unhesitatingly to
him. She is not fond of the drawing-room, but has a good-natured
partiality for the garret, who sings funny songs, and gives her occa-
sionally an order for the play. She takes her dinner whilst washing the
dishes, and never gets her breakfast till all the floors have done with
the one teapot. She tries very hard to answer five bells at once, and in
despair answers none. She always forgets the mustard, and prefers
blowing the lire with her mouth instead of the bellows. Her hands will
not bear minute inspection ; and no wonder, for she is cleaning boots, or
washing, or cooking dinners, all day long. She carries coals in a dust-
pan, hands bread on a fork, and wipes plates with her apron. She *s
abused by everybody, and never gets a holiday. She only knows it is
Sunday by the lodgers stopping in bed later than usual, and having
twice as many dinners to cook. She is never allowed to go out, except-
ing to fetch beer or tobacco. She hears complaints without a murmur,
and listens to jokes without a smile. She gets £6 a year, and is ex-
pected to wait on about 20 persons, to do the work of five servants, to
love all the children in the house, and to be honest for the money. It
is not known what becomes of the Model Maid-of-all-work in her old
age. It is believed, however, that she sinks into the charwoman at the
age of 20. Landladies, be gentle to her!

The Finest Actor in Europe.

If we want consummate acting, we must not now expect it upon the
stage, but in the palace. He is not the artist who wears motley
and a wig, but robes and a crown. As an instance of this fact, we
have only to repeat a statement that "when the news of the Queen of
Spain's ill-health reached Louis-Philippe, lie appeared profoundly
affected." Were Garrick alive, could he beat that?

Printed by William Bradbury, of No. 6, York Place, Stoke Newiuirton, and Frederick Mullett
Evans, of No. 7» Church Row, Stoke Newington, both in the County of Middlesex, Printers, at
their Office, in Lombard Street, in the Precinct of Wbitefria-s, in the City of London, and Pub-
lished by them, at No. 85, Fleet Street, in the Pariah of St. Bride, in the City of London,—
Saturday, January 22nd, 1848.