DOI Heft:
July to December, 1851
DOI Seite / Zitierlink:https://doi.org/10.11588/diglit.16608#0242
PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.
231
DEDICATED BY MR. PUNCH
to all ladies having adopted, ob feeling disposed to adopt, fouk-footed favourites
of any description.
Mrs. Baler. Oh ! then he might bite somebody.
MRS. BAKER'S PET. -I Mr. Chiffins. Lor, Marm! he knows the difference atween
. . one party and another; he don't never show his teeth at
Showing how she came by it; the hold it established on her affections; the serious the right sort o' people, only at beggars and cadgers, and
nuisance it became to Mr. Baker; his generally brutal conduct in respect to it'; such as is arter no good—'ad the distemper, Ma'rm,
and its ultimate influence on the family relations of Mr. and Mrs. B. these six months. There's a hye, Marm. Bless the cretur !
Wouldn't you say he was a talkin' to you ?
Mrs. Baker {who feels strongly inclined towards the ex-
tremely hybrid animal about which Mb. Chiffins is so enthu-
siastic). What is his name ?
Mr. Chiffins. Scamp, Marm, is the name I 'ad with him
—leastways from the party 1 bought him ov.
Mrs. Baker. You 're sure he's not been stolen ?
Mr. Chiffins {with much horror). Stolen ! Marm? Nobody
never could say of Tom Chiffins as he ever bought a dawg
wich he didn't know ail was square {shaking his head). No,
no; none o' them games for Chiffins !
Mrs. Baker. But I should be sure to lose him,
Mr. C'nffins {steadily, and with conviction). Lose that
dawg, Marm ? I '11 be bound you couldn't do it, if you tried
—leastways if you takes care on 'em, wich I see you 're a
lady as loves dumb animals. Bless you, they knows when
they're well orf, them kind of dawgs. They '11 eat their
way through anythink, them dawgs will.
Mrs. Baker. Thirty shillings, you said ?
Mr. Chiffins. Thirty bob is the lowest price 1 can take for
him.
Mrs. Baker. Oh, I wouldn't think of giving more than a
pound !
Mr. Chiffins. Well, Marm, you mustn't be'ard on me. Say
twenty-five, and it's a deal; but the dawg's worth two
pound, if he's worth a farden.
Mrs. Baker. Well, if you like to take twenty-five shillings
for the dog, and if you'll bring him to my house, No. 6,
Blossom Terrace, Bayswater-
Mr. Chiffins. All right, Marm—I knows the 'ouse. Ah !
that's a hout-an-out cheap dawg, that is; but you ladies is
so knowin', there's no getting a profit our, o' you.
Mrs. Baker {intr ducing herself to her new acquisition, and
trying to pat him on the back). Here, Scamp ! Scamp !
[Scamp cowers between the legs of Mr. Chiffins, and
resents M ks. Baker's Jamiliarity by showing his
teeth, and growling.
Mrs. Baker {repelled by the dog's manner). Oh, he doesn't
seem at all uood-t.empered !
Mr. Chiffins. Oh, bless you, Marm! it's only'is play.
'Ere {in a tone of affectionate command), Scamp, 'ere, speak to
the lady,—there's a good dawg !
[Scamp, the solicitation of'Mb, Chiffins, condescends
to wag his tail slightly, which Mrs. Baker construes
into a mark of incipient attachment to herself, and
goes on her way much pleased with her bargain.
Scene 1.—Mrs. Baker Purchases a Pet.
Place—Regent Street. Time—Two p. m.
The usual Loungers and Passengers.—Mr. Chiffins, a quiet man, with an ex-
pression of face half horse-jockey, half field-preacher, and a dress compounded
of the prize-fighter, gentleman's groom, and gamekeeper, is walking up and down ;
a resplendent ''King Charles" under one arm, a preternaturally clean poodle
under the other, and a knot of soi-disant Skye Terriers, questionable Spaniels, and
extremely uncomfortable Italian Greyhounds, in a string, about his feet. Mrs.
Bakek has been out shopping. She has recently lost a favourite Cat, and the
vacuum left by the bereavement is not yet filled up. She has always had a tender-
ness for dumb animals.
TIME'S OUT OF MIND.
It used to be said that time and tide wait for no man ;
but no man need wait for time and tide; nor is there any
occasion for him to be lied to time, now that we have
got the Submarine Teh graph. On two cr three occasions-
last week, the papers intimated that the Fr- nch mail had
not arrived at Dover; but the public cared little for the
French mail, when all the important French news was con-
centrated in a single line—that line being no other than
the telegraphic wire across the Channel. The s'rong
winds may blow and crack their cheeks to the fuhest
extent, but it, matters not as long as they do not affect the
still small voice of the Submarine Telegraph.
There has recently been some discussion as to uniformity
Mr. Chiffins {whose experienced eye has detected Mrs. Baker's weak point). Nice
dog, Marm! King Chawls, Ma'am—there's ears, Ma'am—ekal to floss silk—
{continuing to tcalk by the side of Mrs. Baker, who tries not to betray her
sensibility)—Or a Poodle, Marm ?—do anythink but speak. Buys buns, Marm, and
leaves the penny on the counter as nat'ral as a Christian. Or, "if you'd like a Skye of time throughout England; but really we take no
Terrier, Marm, there's a pictur'! Can't see out of his eye for 'air, and a coat as interest in the question; for now, that news can go from
sweeps the ground. Ah ! you're a-lookin' at that Italian greyhound, Marm, I can one end of Europe to the other in no time at all, we
see; he is a beauty. Only four pound, Marm. Come, what do you say for one
on 'em ? Make me an offer, now. Bless you, Marm, name your figger.
Mrs. Baker. No, thank you. I don't want one.
Mr. Chiffins. Ah! you're a lady as loves dumb hanimals, / can see. Now,
there's a Spannel, Marm; you shall 'ave him for one pun' ten—a finebred dawg as
ever was : sweet as a nut, and wonderful fond of his missus.
Mrs. Baker {with a faint pretence to Utilitarianism). Is he a good house-dog?
Mr. Chiffins. 'Ouse-dog, Marm ? Bless you, nothink can't come near where he
», arter dark—he '11 tear the place down. [ being realised
shall begin to think that watches and clocks are getting
obsolete, and time itself so thoroughly set at nought, as to
be unworthy of being noted.
The idea of getting knocked into next week used to
be a vulgar absurdity ; but when we find ourselves, in rela-
tion to news, at least a week in advance of what was thought
possible a very little while ago, we begin to regard the
notion of knocking into next week as one very capable of
231
DEDICATED BY MR. PUNCH
to all ladies having adopted, ob feeling disposed to adopt, fouk-footed favourites
of any description.
Mrs. Baler. Oh ! then he might bite somebody.
MRS. BAKER'S PET. -I Mr. Chiffins. Lor, Marm! he knows the difference atween
. . one party and another; he don't never show his teeth at
Showing how she came by it; the hold it established on her affections; the serious the right sort o' people, only at beggars and cadgers, and
nuisance it became to Mr. Baker; his generally brutal conduct in respect to it'; such as is arter no good—'ad the distemper, Ma'rm,
and its ultimate influence on the family relations of Mr. and Mrs. B. these six months. There's a hye, Marm. Bless the cretur !
Wouldn't you say he was a talkin' to you ?
Mrs. Baker {who feels strongly inclined towards the ex-
tremely hybrid animal about which Mb. Chiffins is so enthu-
siastic). What is his name ?
Mr. Chiffins. Scamp, Marm, is the name I 'ad with him
—leastways from the party 1 bought him ov.
Mrs. Baker. You 're sure he's not been stolen ?
Mr. Chiffins {with much horror). Stolen ! Marm? Nobody
never could say of Tom Chiffins as he ever bought a dawg
wich he didn't know ail was square {shaking his head). No,
no; none o' them games for Chiffins !
Mrs. Baker. But I should be sure to lose him,
Mr. C'nffins {steadily, and with conviction). Lose that
dawg, Marm ? I '11 be bound you couldn't do it, if you tried
—leastways if you takes care on 'em, wich I see you 're a
lady as loves dumb animals. Bless you, they knows when
they're well orf, them kind of dawgs. They '11 eat their
way through anythink, them dawgs will.
Mrs. Baker. Thirty shillings, you said ?
Mr. Chiffins. Thirty bob is the lowest price 1 can take for
him.
Mrs. Baker. Oh, I wouldn't think of giving more than a
pound !
Mr. Chiffins. Well, Marm, you mustn't be'ard on me. Say
twenty-five, and it's a deal; but the dawg's worth two
pound, if he's worth a farden.
Mrs. Baker. Well, if you like to take twenty-five shillings
for the dog, and if you'll bring him to my house, No. 6,
Blossom Terrace, Bayswater-
Mr. Chiffins. All right, Marm—I knows the 'ouse. Ah !
that's a hout-an-out cheap dawg, that is; but you ladies is
so knowin', there's no getting a profit our, o' you.
Mrs. Baker {intr ducing herself to her new acquisition, and
trying to pat him on the back). Here, Scamp ! Scamp !
[Scamp cowers between the legs of Mr. Chiffins, and
resents M ks. Baker's Jamiliarity by showing his
teeth, and growling.
Mrs. Baker {repelled by the dog's manner). Oh, he doesn't
seem at all uood-t.empered !
Mr. Chiffins. Oh, bless you, Marm! it's only'is play.
'Ere {in a tone of affectionate command), Scamp, 'ere, speak to
the lady,—there's a good dawg !
[Scamp, the solicitation of'Mb, Chiffins, condescends
to wag his tail slightly, which Mrs. Baker construes
into a mark of incipient attachment to herself, and
goes on her way much pleased with her bargain.
Scene 1.—Mrs. Baker Purchases a Pet.
Place—Regent Street. Time—Two p. m.
The usual Loungers and Passengers.—Mr. Chiffins, a quiet man, with an ex-
pression of face half horse-jockey, half field-preacher, and a dress compounded
of the prize-fighter, gentleman's groom, and gamekeeper, is walking up and down ;
a resplendent ''King Charles" under one arm, a preternaturally clean poodle
under the other, and a knot of soi-disant Skye Terriers, questionable Spaniels, and
extremely uncomfortable Italian Greyhounds, in a string, about his feet. Mrs.
Bakek has been out shopping. She has recently lost a favourite Cat, and the
vacuum left by the bereavement is not yet filled up. She has always had a tender-
ness for dumb animals.
TIME'S OUT OF MIND.
It used to be said that time and tide wait for no man ;
but no man need wait for time and tide; nor is there any
occasion for him to be lied to time, now that we have
got the Submarine Teh graph. On two cr three occasions-
last week, the papers intimated that the Fr- nch mail had
not arrived at Dover; but the public cared little for the
French mail, when all the important French news was con-
centrated in a single line—that line being no other than
the telegraphic wire across the Channel. The s'rong
winds may blow and crack their cheeks to the fuhest
extent, but it, matters not as long as they do not affect the
still small voice of the Submarine Telegraph.
There has recently been some discussion as to uniformity
Mr. Chiffins {whose experienced eye has detected Mrs. Baker's weak point). Nice
dog, Marm! King Chawls, Ma'am—there's ears, Ma'am—ekal to floss silk—
{continuing to tcalk by the side of Mrs. Baker, who tries not to betray her
sensibility)—Or a Poodle, Marm ?—do anythink but speak. Buys buns, Marm, and
leaves the penny on the counter as nat'ral as a Christian. Or, "if you'd like a Skye of time throughout England; but really we take no
Terrier, Marm, there's a pictur'! Can't see out of his eye for 'air, and a coat as interest in the question; for now, that news can go from
sweeps the ground. Ah ! you're a-lookin' at that Italian greyhound, Marm, I can one end of Europe to the other in no time at all, we
see; he is a beauty. Only four pound, Marm. Come, what do you say for one
on 'em ? Make me an offer, now. Bless you, Marm, name your figger.
Mrs. Baker. No, thank you. I don't want one.
Mr. Chiffins. Ah! you're a lady as loves dumb hanimals, / can see. Now,
there's a Spannel, Marm; you shall 'ave him for one pun' ten—a finebred dawg as
ever was : sweet as a nut, and wonderful fond of his missus.
Mrs. Baker {with a faint pretence to Utilitarianism). Is he a good house-dog?
Mr. Chiffins. 'Ouse-dog, Marm ? Bless you, nothink can't come near where he
», arter dark—he '11 tear the place down. [ being realised
shall begin to think that watches and clocks are getting
obsolete, and time itself so thoroughly set at nought, as to
be unworthy of being noted.
The idea of getting knocked into next week used to
be a vulgar absurdity ; but when we find ourselves, in rela-
tion to news, at least a week in advance of what was thought
possible a very little while ago, we begin to regard the
notion of knocking into next week as one very capable of