DOI issue:
July to December, 1851
DOI Page / Citation link:https://doi.org/10.11588/diglit.16608#0076
^ PUNCH. OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.
My Eye, Tommy ! If 'ere aint the Scotchman hout of the Snuff
Shop a takin5 a Walk."
THE TREASURES OF THE DEEP.
(SEE OF DURHAM.)
After Mrs. Hemans.
What hidest thou in thy treasure-mines and cells.
Thou See of Durham ? Wall's End ; Eden Main •
Black diamond stores, whose gems thy Bishop sells?
Best screened, that bring him in exceeding gain,—
These are thy riches, Apostolic See;
We get our coals from thee !
Yet more, thy Depths have more !—What tin untold
Within the compass of thine income lies !
Thou hast the farmer's cash, the grazier's gold ;
Rich as a lot of Royal Argosies,
Look to thy chance, Lord Bishop—'tis the Main—
So cut and come again.
Yet more, thy Depths have more!—What parchments
roll'd
Up in thy coffers—let us hope, kept dry—
Have brought in fees, for wills, by statutes old
Forced to pay probate in thy Registry !
Pocket them, Durham—now's your time of day,
Before they 're ta'en away.
Yet more, thy See and Diocese hath more!
The souls in thine episcopacy blest,
They are thy chiefest wealth, most precious store;
Treasures are they by far worth all the rest.
Hoard up those riches ; but the dibs, we crave
Give back, which thou dost save.
Give back thy surplus rowdy—thou of whom
The monstrous income has been quizzed so long—
Which Punch—enlight'ner of the public gloom—
Hits at in story, harps upon in song.
Hold fast thy decent due—but that alone—
For all is not thine own !
To thee the love of lucre hath gone down,
Donning a golden mitre on its head,
A thing oft worn above a prelate's crown;
Yet must thou hear a voice—e'en now 'tis said
John Bull reclaims thy precious things from thee.
Disgorge thy fat, thou See !
PRIZES AWARDED AT THE HORTICULTURAL FETE.
The weather is always so unmerciful at the Horticultural Fete, that
we think that the company, more especially the ladies, deserve prizes
being distributed to them for their hardihood in making their appearance
there.
We expect next July to read an award of prizes somewhat similar to
the following:—
To Miss Clara de Were. For the prettiest drawn bonnet of pink
silk, trimmed with black lace and black bugles, completely spoilt by the
rain—The Gold Gunter Medal.
To Lady Augusta Thumper. For the most delicate crape dress,
with pinked flounces, and mantle en suite, slightly edged with Honiton
lace, so soiled that it can never be worn again—The Silver Swan and
Edgar Medal.
To Mrs. Cherry Bounce. For the most chaste dove-coloured silk
parasol, with muslin embroidery and silk fringe, completely washed
out, by the wet—The Howell and James' pair of Earrings.
To Miss Laura Adelgisa Stubbs. For the most recherche, rich,
puce-coloured glace silk with embroidered flounces, and braided Polka
a I'Amazone to correspond, scarcely recognisable again, and actually
refused by her maid—A Buhl Box, containing two dozen of Jouyin's
best Gloves.
To Mademoiselle Felicie de Vertpre. For the neatest, thinnest,
smallest pair of French Bottines, completely wet through—A Box of
Bonbons from the Fidele Berger.
To Lord Narcissus Verisopht. For a cherry-coloured paletot,
and a snow-white widp-awake made of the finest felt, both sacrificed
to the inclemency of the weather—A handsomely embroidered Cigar
'Jase and Silver Vinaigrette.
To "Mr. Hercules Smith. For wearing a pair of summer trousers,
Hopelessly ruined—A Pair of Silver-Mounted Pistols.
USEFUL -EMPLOYMENT OF WASTE TIME.
A Lady, living at Wimbledon, presented last week to her husband a
handsome waistcoat as a birthday present. It was most beautifully
embroidered, and had been worked by her during the spare half-hours
that would otherwise have been wasted, whilst waiting at the various
stations on the South-Western Railway. So numerous are the delays
on that sleepy line, that ladies, who are compelled by necessity to travel
by it, make a practice now of taking their needlework with them in the
railway carriages, so that they may turn to some useful account the
dreadful waste of time that is squandered in going a simple journey of
ten miles. We have been shown Stone's picture of " Cross Purposes "
most effectively worked in Berlin Wool by a young lady, who was-
engaged on it only for one month, and performed_ but one journey to-
town every day. This will give some little notion of the amount of
time which that one journey must have consumed per diem to have
enabled the fair Arachnea to have completed so laborious a piece of
work in so short a period !
Mysteries of the Deep.
The thousands—the hundreds of thousands—of pounds that have
been brought up in the Diocese of Durham and others by such an ex-
perienced Diver as Mr. Horsman, furnish only another proof that, in
ecclesiastical matters, none of us know one half of the treasures that
are buried at the bottom of the See.
The Great Day of the Session.
The 28th of July was expected to have been a grand_ day in Parlia-
ment ; for, considering the many laws that are made without adequate
information, a day legitimately allowing of legislation in the dark, would,
it was thought, have been taken full advantage of.
My Eye, Tommy ! If 'ere aint the Scotchman hout of the Snuff
Shop a takin5 a Walk."
THE TREASURES OF THE DEEP.
(SEE OF DURHAM.)
After Mrs. Hemans.
What hidest thou in thy treasure-mines and cells.
Thou See of Durham ? Wall's End ; Eden Main •
Black diamond stores, whose gems thy Bishop sells?
Best screened, that bring him in exceeding gain,—
These are thy riches, Apostolic See;
We get our coals from thee !
Yet more, thy Depths have more !—What tin untold
Within the compass of thine income lies !
Thou hast the farmer's cash, the grazier's gold ;
Rich as a lot of Royal Argosies,
Look to thy chance, Lord Bishop—'tis the Main—
So cut and come again.
Yet more, thy Depths have more!—What parchments
roll'd
Up in thy coffers—let us hope, kept dry—
Have brought in fees, for wills, by statutes old
Forced to pay probate in thy Registry !
Pocket them, Durham—now's your time of day,
Before they 're ta'en away.
Yet more, thy See and Diocese hath more!
The souls in thine episcopacy blest,
They are thy chiefest wealth, most precious store;
Treasures are they by far worth all the rest.
Hoard up those riches ; but the dibs, we crave
Give back, which thou dost save.
Give back thy surplus rowdy—thou of whom
The monstrous income has been quizzed so long—
Which Punch—enlight'ner of the public gloom—
Hits at in story, harps upon in song.
Hold fast thy decent due—but that alone—
For all is not thine own !
To thee the love of lucre hath gone down,
Donning a golden mitre on its head,
A thing oft worn above a prelate's crown;
Yet must thou hear a voice—e'en now 'tis said
John Bull reclaims thy precious things from thee.
Disgorge thy fat, thou See !
PRIZES AWARDED AT THE HORTICULTURAL FETE.
The weather is always so unmerciful at the Horticultural Fete, that
we think that the company, more especially the ladies, deserve prizes
being distributed to them for their hardihood in making their appearance
there.
We expect next July to read an award of prizes somewhat similar to
the following:—
To Miss Clara de Were. For the prettiest drawn bonnet of pink
silk, trimmed with black lace and black bugles, completely spoilt by the
rain—The Gold Gunter Medal.
To Lady Augusta Thumper. For the most delicate crape dress,
with pinked flounces, and mantle en suite, slightly edged with Honiton
lace, so soiled that it can never be worn again—The Silver Swan and
Edgar Medal.
To Mrs. Cherry Bounce. For the most chaste dove-coloured silk
parasol, with muslin embroidery and silk fringe, completely washed
out, by the wet—The Howell and James' pair of Earrings.
To Miss Laura Adelgisa Stubbs. For the most recherche, rich,
puce-coloured glace silk with embroidered flounces, and braided Polka
a I'Amazone to correspond, scarcely recognisable again, and actually
refused by her maid—A Buhl Box, containing two dozen of Jouyin's
best Gloves.
To Mademoiselle Felicie de Vertpre. For the neatest, thinnest,
smallest pair of French Bottines, completely wet through—A Box of
Bonbons from the Fidele Berger.
To Lord Narcissus Verisopht. For a cherry-coloured paletot,
and a snow-white widp-awake made of the finest felt, both sacrificed
to the inclemency of the weather—A handsomely embroidered Cigar
'Jase and Silver Vinaigrette.
To "Mr. Hercules Smith. For wearing a pair of summer trousers,
Hopelessly ruined—A Pair of Silver-Mounted Pistols.
USEFUL -EMPLOYMENT OF WASTE TIME.
A Lady, living at Wimbledon, presented last week to her husband a
handsome waistcoat as a birthday present. It was most beautifully
embroidered, and had been worked by her during the spare half-hours
that would otherwise have been wasted, whilst waiting at the various
stations on the South-Western Railway. So numerous are the delays
on that sleepy line, that ladies, who are compelled by necessity to travel
by it, make a practice now of taking their needlework with them in the
railway carriages, so that they may turn to some useful account the
dreadful waste of time that is squandered in going a simple journey of
ten miles. We have been shown Stone's picture of " Cross Purposes "
most effectively worked in Berlin Wool by a young lady, who was-
engaged on it only for one month, and performed_ but one journey to-
town every day. This will give some little notion of the amount of
time which that one journey must have consumed per diem to have
enabled the fair Arachnea to have completed so laborious a piece of
work in so short a period !
Mysteries of the Deep.
The thousands—the hundreds of thousands—of pounds that have
been brought up in the Diocese of Durham and others by such an ex-
perienced Diver as Mr. Horsman, furnish only another proof that, in
ecclesiastical matters, none of us know one half of the treasures that
are buried at the bottom of the See.
The Great Day of the Session.
The 28th of July was expected to have been a grand_ day in Parlia-
ment ; for, considering the many laws that are made without adequate
information, a day legitimately allowing of legislation in the dark, would,
it was thought, have been taken full advantage of.