DOI issue:
July to December, 1852
DOI Page / Citation link:https://doi.org/10.11588/diglit.16610#0054
46 PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.
STARTLING EFFECT OF THE GOLD "DIGGINS."
Reduced Goldsmith (loq.). "Now then, Here you are!—a Handsome Gold
Snuff-Box and a Ha'porth of Snuff for a Penny !"
STANZAS TO PALE ALE.
Oh ! I have loved thee fondly, ever
Preferr'd thee to the choicest wine ;
From thee my lips they could not sever
By saying thou contain'dst strychnine.
Did I believe the slander ? Never!
I held thee still to be divine.
For me thy colom' hath a charm,
Although 'tis true they call thee Pale ;
And be thou cold when I am warm,
As late I've been—so high the scale
Of Fahrenheit—and febrile harm
Allay, refrigerating Ale !
How sweet thou art!—yet bitter, too;
And sparkling, like satiric fun ;
But how much better thee to brew,
Than a conundrum or a pun,
It is, in every point of view,
Must be allow'd by every one.
Refresh my heart and cool my throat,
Light, airy child of malt, and hops !
That dost not stuff, engross, and bloat
The skin, the sides, the chin, the chops,
And burst the buttons off the coat,
Like stout and porter—fattening slops !
Una Voce Poco Fa.
The other day, Lord Maidstone on coming forward to-
thank the Westminster electors for having thrown him out,
or rather refused to let him in—though he would have let them
in if they had done otherwise—declared that he was unable
to say anything, as he had " lost his voice." Now, as a thing
cannot be lost until it has been found, and as we never heard
that Loud Maidstone poss ssed a voice in Westminster, we-
do not see how he can have lost it there. Of course, as
he had nothing to say on the hustings when the result of the
poll was declared, he could only be regarded as a " mute "
assisting at the funeral obsequies of Protection in Covent
Garden Market.
A SERMON FOR DOGS.
The dogs of Constantinople are among the most interesting creatures
of that most famous city. It requires a sharp look-out on the part of
the night-walker, not to be attacked and devoured by them ; but that
is little. There they are, in their dirt, and mange, and nastiness—the
pe*s of the pious Mussulman who harbours and comforts them.
However, the spirit of liberalism—the spirit that has killed the
merriment of once merry England, making us a hard-dealing, cotton-
spinnin?, dear-selling, cheap-buying nation; the spirit that, according
to the Imaums who preach from the minarets of the Herald and the
Post, has caused to be thrown out of cultivation thousands and
tens of thousands of acres of land that was wont to be rich and
smiling with golden corn—every grain of which now comes from the
foreigner—the British farmer in his recklessness growing nothing but
groundsel and poppies; that spirit that, forcing its way to Stamboul,
has plucked the solemn turban from the head of the Turk, clapping in
its stead the fez woven and imported from unbelieving Leeds ; the
spirit of innovation that, has torn the wide-flowing robe and the volu-
minous bag-like trousers from the majestic Mussulman, and now
buttons him tight up to the throat, and thrusts his legs in shameless
trousers; that spirit has been busy among the time-hallowed dogs of
Stamboul—the curs almost sacred in their vested rights of food and
lodging.
k short time ago—says the Globe—the number of dogs in Constanti-
nople was so great, that three thousand of them—many of them, no
doubt, torn from their nearest and dearest friends, with no more tender-
ness shewn towards them than a Virginian slave-merchant exhibits
towards his two-legged chattels—three thousand of them were conveyed
to an isle of the Bosphorus, with provision to last three days ! On the
fourth day, the Imaums ascended the minarets, and exhorted the dogs
to patience and resignation!
Do we take this story as the grave relation of a grave fact ? Not we.
No : no ; the editor of the Globe is an incorrigible wag; and has only
invented the tale as an illustration—another waggery—of the condition
. of the three thousand Protectionists (if there be so many ?) at present
in England.
But let us assume this dogs' tale to be a true tale; what was the
— —, - - ■ - - ■ • - ...........- - - ■
There. Punc'i, in the handsomest manner makes a present of this
illustration to Sir Fitzrot Kelly, Solicitor-General for the Corn
Laws. The thing is as false and as bad as it can be; but therefore
carries with it the best recommendation for Sir Fitzrot ; for is he
not a man who would bleach a blackamoor into an Albino, and turn the
soot of even a Manchester chimney into Alpine snow P or,—if the thing
were put in his Government brief—by his very mode of handling it,
change Alpine snow into cotton-chimney soot?
Sister Seats of Learning.
Should an inquiry respecting the system of tuition pursued at
Maynooth take place next session, its results will perhaps be interesting,
as compared with those that may be elicited by the University Com-
mission. They will probably show that there is no more objection to
the endowment of Maynooth than there would be to a grant to Oxford:
and that a graduate of the latter seat of learning and Puseyism is ad-
missible ad eundem at the former.
true peroration of the Imaums' sermon to the dogs P Why, the very
sermon that those Imaums of Manchester, Cobden and Bright, in their
sarcastic hard-heartedness preach from their minarets, the tall chimneys
of Cottonopolis.
Consider those hapless, undone dogs, the English farmers. Their
cries—to any other ears, save ears filled with cotton-balls—are terrible.
They have expended all their capital: for more than three years—poor
dogs!—they have existed upon that; and now do the Manchester
schoolmen—the elders of the Manchester Jacobin Club, as Napoleon
Disraeli so beautifully calls them—now do they, in their hard-hearted
sarcastic manner preach, as the Imaums preached to the ousted dogs
of Constantinople—"patience and resignation."
But there is a term, an end to patience and resignation. " We have
eaten our three days' food—(lived on our principal for three years) "
—howl the dogs ; " and we are starving—starving ! "
And then Imaum Cobden ascends the tall brick chimney; and after
crying " Allah, Bismallah: there is but one Manchester, and Cotton is
its profit," then does Cobden preach to the famishing multitude ; and
his peroration is of these few words :—
" Dnns. tat nTJif. ixhthrd I "
STARTLING EFFECT OF THE GOLD "DIGGINS."
Reduced Goldsmith (loq.). "Now then, Here you are!—a Handsome Gold
Snuff-Box and a Ha'porth of Snuff for a Penny !"
STANZAS TO PALE ALE.
Oh ! I have loved thee fondly, ever
Preferr'd thee to the choicest wine ;
From thee my lips they could not sever
By saying thou contain'dst strychnine.
Did I believe the slander ? Never!
I held thee still to be divine.
For me thy colom' hath a charm,
Although 'tis true they call thee Pale ;
And be thou cold when I am warm,
As late I've been—so high the scale
Of Fahrenheit—and febrile harm
Allay, refrigerating Ale !
How sweet thou art!—yet bitter, too;
And sparkling, like satiric fun ;
But how much better thee to brew,
Than a conundrum or a pun,
It is, in every point of view,
Must be allow'd by every one.
Refresh my heart and cool my throat,
Light, airy child of malt, and hops !
That dost not stuff, engross, and bloat
The skin, the sides, the chin, the chops,
And burst the buttons off the coat,
Like stout and porter—fattening slops !
Una Voce Poco Fa.
The other day, Lord Maidstone on coming forward to-
thank the Westminster electors for having thrown him out,
or rather refused to let him in—though he would have let them
in if they had done otherwise—declared that he was unable
to say anything, as he had " lost his voice." Now, as a thing
cannot be lost until it has been found, and as we never heard
that Loud Maidstone poss ssed a voice in Westminster, we-
do not see how he can have lost it there. Of course, as
he had nothing to say on the hustings when the result of the
poll was declared, he could only be regarded as a " mute "
assisting at the funeral obsequies of Protection in Covent
Garden Market.
A SERMON FOR DOGS.
The dogs of Constantinople are among the most interesting creatures
of that most famous city. It requires a sharp look-out on the part of
the night-walker, not to be attacked and devoured by them ; but that
is little. There they are, in their dirt, and mange, and nastiness—the
pe*s of the pious Mussulman who harbours and comforts them.
However, the spirit of liberalism—the spirit that has killed the
merriment of once merry England, making us a hard-dealing, cotton-
spinnin?, dear-selling, cheap-buying nation; the spirit that, according
to the Imaums who preach from the minarets of the Herald and the
Post, has caused to be thrown out of cultivation thousands and
tens of thousands of acres of land that was wont to be rich and
smiling with golden corn—every grain of which now comes from the
foreigner—the British farmer in his recklessness growing nothing but
groundsel and poppies; that spirit that, forcing its way to Stamboul,
has plucked the solemn turban from the head of the Turk, clapping in
its stead the fez woven and imported from unbelieving Leeds ; the
spirit of innovation that, has torn the wide-flowing robe and the volu-
minous bag-like trousers from the majestic Mussulman, and now
buttons him tight up to the throat, and thrusts his legs in shameless
trousers; that spirit has been busy among the time-hallowed dogs of
Stamboul—the curs almost sacred in their vested rights of food and
lodging.
k short time ago—says the Globe—the number of dogs in Constanti-
nople was so great, that three thousand of them—many of them, no
doubt, torn from their nearest and dearest friends, with no more tender-
ness shewn towards them than a Virginian slave-merchant exhibits
towards his two-legged chattels—three thousand of them were conveyed
to an isle of the Bosphorus, with provision to last three days ! On the
fourth day, the Imaums ascended the minarets, and exhorted the dogs
to patience and resignation!
Do we take this story as the grave relation of a grave fact ? Not we.
No : no ; the editor of the Globe is an incorrigible wag; and has only
invented the tale as an illustration—another waggery—of the condition
. of the three thousand Protectionists (if there be so many ?) at present
in England.
But let us assume this dogs' tale to be a true tale; what was the
— —, - - ■ - - ■ • - ...........- - - ■
There. Punc'i, in the handsomest manner makes a present of this
illustration to Sir Fitzrot Kelly, Solicitor-General for the Corn
Laws. The thing is as false and as bad as it can be; but therefore
carries with it the best recommendation for Sir Fitzrot ; for is he
not a man who would bleach a blackamoor into an Albino, and turn the
soot of even a Manchester chimney into Alpine snow P or,—if the thing
were put in his Government brief—by his very mode of handling it,
change Alpine snow into cotton-chimney soot?
Sister Seats of Learning.
Should an inquiry respecting the system of tuition pursued at
Maynooth take place next session, its results will perhaps be interesting,
as compared with those that may be elicited by the University Com-
mission. They will probably show that there is no more objection to
the endowment of Maynooth than there would be to a grant to Oxford:
and that a graduate of the latter seat of learning and Puseyism is ad-
missible ad eundem at the former.
true peroration of the Imaums' sermon to the dogs P Why, the very
sermon that those Imaums of Manchester, Cobden and Bright, in their
sarcastic hard-heartedness preach from their minarets, the tall chimneys
of Cottonopolis.
Consider those hapless, undone dogs, the English farmers. Their
cries—to any other ears, save ears filled with cotton-balls—are terrible.
They have expended all their capital: for more than three years—poor
dogs!—they have existed upon that; and now do the Manchester
schoolmen—the elders of the Manchester Jacobin Club, as Napoleon
Disraeli so beautifully calls them—now do they, in their hard-hearted
sarcastic manner preach, as the Imaums preached to the ousted dogs
of Constantinople—"patience and resignation."
But there is a term, an end to patience and resignation. " We have
eaten our three days' food—(lived on our principal for three years) "
—howl the dogs ; " and we are starving—starving ! "
And then Imaum Cobden ascends the tall brick chimney; and after
crying " Allah, Bismallah: there is but one Manchester, and Cotton is
its profit," then does Cobden preach to the famishing multitude ; and
his peroration is of these few words :—
" Dnns. tat nTJif. ixhthrd I "