DOI issue:
January to June, 1853
DOI Page / Citation link:https://doi.org/10.11588/diglit.16611#0079
PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI 71
POLITICAL BETTING-OFFICES.
OW natural it is that the
representative of a
Hiding should know
something of horses,,
and there is nothing
strange in such a per-
son's coming forward
as a " betting man."
As the sagacious Cob-
den has commenced
betting on the invasion
question, it is not un-
likely that he will make
a book on the great
event; and if he is as
clever as we think
him, he will probably
" hedge" in such a
manner that he would
stand to win either
way. We do not fear
that he will lose much
in any event; and in-
deed he will be perfectly safe unless " The Ehpebob" is allowed to " walk over."
Since the example has been set by Mr. Cobden of betting on public events, we should not
be surprised if Political Betting-Offices were to be established—or rather started, for they
never get established—in all parts of the town, for the purpose of enabling the shopmen,
apprentices, and other speculators, with money not their own, to take an interest in the
chances of politics. The " prophets" may also be expected to reap the benefit of this new
field for gambling, so considerately opened for them by Mb. Cobden ; and genuine information
on " the Budget/' " the New Reform Bill," and other great events of the political year, will
furnish a series of excellent (pretexts for recommending " tips" to the green geese of the
community.
THE PATRIARCH OE THE PLAYHOUSE.
Alas, alas—how old I am!
How old ?—oh! ask me not to say.
But that my soul abhors a sham,
I'd get a wig—I am so grey.
My reminiscence of the stage
Too plainly will betray my age.
I recollect the elder Kean—
And then I was a fine young man -
Miss Invebabity I've seen,
Also Miss Shibbefe ; and I can—
Cold is the bosom that forgets—
Distinctly call to mind Miss Betts.
My sides have ached with Liston's fun,
Jack Reeve has often made me split;
And I remember how begun
With him that favourite piece of wit,
Of shouting, in a tuneful key,
The simple word " Va-ri-e-ty !"
And then the kidneys, rabbits, stouts,
And subsequent cigars and goes,
Of twenty-one or thereabouts !
Ah '.—still young fellows, I suppose,
Rejoice in luxuries like these,
Accompanied by songs and glees.
Now give me what I can digest,
The plainest dinner—nightly fill
The cup prescribed to give me rest;
And let me take my morning pill.
Had I been bred up to the sea,
An Admiral they'd now make me !
OUR HONEYMOON.
WEDNESDAY, MAY 7, 18—.
Did I ever think I should sleep in such a bed-room! And could I
ever believe I should be so grateful—so full, so overflowing with
thanksgiving for such a bed! Why, it isn't above half the size of a ship's
cabin—and the bed itself—(but then, as Ebedebick says, he can always
make himself small; can sleep upon a boot-jack ! I'm sure there's not
much more room for two)—the bed hardly wider than a bolster !
But oh, what it might have been! Two or three times I woke, with
the bed like a boat, and the sea gurgling in my ears; and then again
I fell asleep, so thankful, so happy! I was preserved—he was saved ;
and with such tranquillity, such goodness in his sleeping face, how I
blessed him—how I blamed myself—for it was my fault, all my fault.
What an early lesson—and let me cherish, love it, as a most dear and
valued one—but what an early lesson for a Honeymoon.
And now Ebedebick is gone out—and why did. he leave me in such
a hurry ?—let me look about me. Last night, I could scarcely see or
know anything. All I remember was being dashed in the boat upon
the beach, with twenty people shouting and crowding about me—and,
wet to the skin, being carried up and up some rocks, and—after a time
—finding myself at the fireside with Ebedebick, and two or three kind
women—all such eager, anxious, yet gentle creatures about me! But
he was safe—he was preserved; and with that big blessing at my
heart I went to sleep, and woke—and was again and again thankful,
and with the thought again and again blessed, and again slept!
And what a strange, odd, pretty little place ! The room as modest,
as humble, but as sweet as a daisy. A brick floor—what would
mamma say ? positively a brick floor—with surely a bit of sail-cloth by
the bed-side ! And everything so clean and neat! And there is art,
I declare, art upon the mantel-piece. Two plaster parrots, greener
than ever yet were feathers ; and a demure white cat with round black
spots, as if cut out of court-plaister, sitting with her tail curled round
her fore-legs, on the chest of drawers. And there are shells upon the
j mantel-piece ; and dried sea-weed (a piece of it, I shall beg to mark
yesterday with; a piece to look at, in future days if ever peevish, dis-
contented thoughts arise, to look at and learn from it patience and
thankfulness); and the model of a little boat—perhaps the boat of the
poor thing's husband.
And here, more dead than alive, they brought me last night. Here,
making the bed as hot as an oven, they laid my storm-tossed limbs—
here they would nurse and wait upon my little wayward self that would
go upon the sea, if only to shew my spirit, and to have almost my little
life (and his life ; ah, that was the wrong—the wickedness) washed out
of me. And I deserved it, / did: but he ? I could weep again to
think of my stubbornness.
And the old woman of the house—the cabin, I mean—has been with
me. And so thankful, so kind, and so full of excuses for the plack
that " is not for the likes of me "—(" the likes of me," indeed ! when
I might have been in some deep sea-cave, or flung like so much sea-
weed upon the beach; a dead thing, that makes all unlikes so very like)
—and so she tells me that the messenger can't be long before he comes
back from the White Hart; for though it's a good twelve miles from
Choughcliff, he'd a good horse, and would ride his fastest, and they 'd
send back a post-chaise with a change of clothes, and I should only-
laugh some day at the bedroom with the brick floor ; though, after all,
she must say—with such weather, and with such a coast; she knew it
well; she had—God help her ! and here with her apron she wiped her
eyes—she had good cause to know it—with such weather, we had been
lucky as all turned out. Poor soul! Her husband, with one of her
sons, had been drowned—drowned just off the shore—she might have
heard 'em cry. But she wouldn't talk of that now: but it was a
blessed Providence that with such a wind? and such a tide, we had
ever made the land as we did. We'd driven at least fifteen miles
by sea; and oh! the poor souls that had gone down just off thi*
Point!
And at this time, I hear the cry of a baby. Yes; that is her
daughter's baby—that is the young woman who had married her son
Her son is a fisherman, and—and—would I like to see the baby ?
_ What a dear little rose-bud! Just two months old—well, I never
did see such a beautiful baby! And so strong, and so fresh; as if it
had been born and rocked at sea.
And the mother—a buxom, charming young woman—comes to hope
that baby does n't teaze me. She has not been so much herself, she
says, as she might have been—and the baby's hardly so tidy as she'd
like. And—I can't but see it—there's something strange and restless
in the young woman's manner. She says, it was a dreadful night last
night—but then, people who get their living out of the sea must make
then minds up to bad weather.—It's nothing, when Providence is
above all. Still, they've had their trials in that house ; but still they
must hope for the best—it's their duty and—and shall she take baby
from me,—for he's fallen asleep in my lap!
Oh no ! Let him be just a few minutes; only a few. Eor I can't
help thinking how I should like Ebedebick to come just now and look
at the dear little fellow fast asleep in my lap. And he looks so happy,
too; so composed, and so much at home !
What a beautiful, solemn, mysterious thing is a baby's face! I don't
know why I should think in this manner now! I never thought so
before. Yes ; such a pretty mystery! Such an unopened book !
Well, mamma would laugh to see me now. In this place; and such
a figure as I am—but Josephine can't be long with my things, if the
man rides fast—but mamma would laugh to see me with a baby on mv
knees. She would-
POLITICAL BETTING-OFFICES.
OW natural it is that the
representative of a
Hiding should know
something of horses,,
and there is nothing
strange in such a per-
son's coming forward
as a " betting man."
As the sagacious Cob-
den has commenced
betting on the invasion
question, it is not un-
likely that he will make
a book on the great
event; and if he is as
clever as we think
him, he will probably
" hedge" in such a
manner that he would
stand to win either
way. We do not fear
that he will lose much
in any event; and in-
deed he will be perfectly safe unless " The Ehpebob" is allowed to " walk over."
Since the example has been set by Mr. Cobden of betting on public events, we should not
be surprised if Political Betting-Offices were to be established—or rather started, for they
never get established—in all parts of the town, for the purpose of enabling the shopmen,
apprentices, and other speculators, with money not their own, to take an interest in the
chances of politics. The " prophets" may also be expected to reap the benefit of this new
field for gambling, so considerately opened for them by Mb. Cobden ; and genuine information
on " the Budget/' " the New Reform Bill," and other great events of the political year, will
furnish a series of excellent (pretexts for recommending " tips" to the green geese of the
community.
THE PATRIARCH OE THE PLAYHOUSE.
Alas, alas—how old I am!
How old ?—oh! ask me not to say.
But that my soul abhors a sham,
I'd get a wig—I am so grey.
My reminiscence of the stage
Too plainly will betray my age.
I recollect the elder Kean—
And then I was a fine young man -
Miss Invebabity I've seen,
Also Miss Shibbefe ; and I can—
Cold is the bosom that forgets—
Distinctly call to mind Miss Betts.
My sides have ached with Liston's fun,
Jack Reeve has often made me split;
And I remember how begun
With him that favourite piece of wit,
Of shouting, in a tuneful key,
The simple word " Va-ri-e-ty !"
And then the kidneys, rabbits, stouts,
And subsequent cigars and goes,
Of twenty-one or thereabouts !
Ah '.—still young fellows, I suppose,
Rejoice in luxuries like these,
Accompanied by songs and glees.
Now give me what I can digest,
The plainest dinner—nightly fill
The cup prescribed to give me rest;
And let me take my morning pill.
Had I been bred up to the sea,
An Admiral they'd now make me !
OUR HONEYMOON.
WEDNESDAY, MAY 7, 18—.
Did I ever think I should sleep in such a bed-room! And could I
ever believe I should be so grateful—so full, so overflowing with
thanksgiving for such a bed! Why, it isn't above half the size of a ship's
cabin—and the bed itself—(but then, as Ebedebick says, he can always
make himself small; can sleep upon a boot-jack ! I'm sure there's not
much more room for two)—the bed hardly wider than a bolster !
But oh, what it might have been! Two or three times I woke, with
the bed like a boat, and the sea gurgling in my ears; and then again
I fell asleep, so thankful, so happy! I was preserved—he was saved ;
and with such tranquillity, such goodness in his sleeping face, how I
blessed him—how I blamed myself—for it was my fault, all my fault.
What an early lesson—and let me cherish, love it, as a most dear and
valued one—but what an early lesson for a Honeymoon.
And now Ebedebick is gone out—and why did. he leave me in such
a hurry ?—let me look about me. Last night, I could scarcely see or
know anything. All I remember was being dashed in the boat upon
the beach, with twenty people shouting and crowding about me—and,
wet to the skin, being carried up and up some rocks, and—after a time
—finding myself at the fireside with Ebedebick, and two or three kind
women—all such eager, anxious, yet gentle creatures about me! But
he was safe—he was preserved; and with that big blessing at my
heart I went to sleep, and woke—and was again and again thankful,
and with the thought again and again blessed, and again slept!
And what a strange, odd, pretty little place ! The room as modest,
as humble, but as sweet as a daisy. A brick floor—what would
mamma say ? positively a brick floor—with surely a bit of sail-cloth by
the bed-side ! And everything so clean and neat! And there is art,
I declare, art upon the mantel-piece. Two plaster parrots, greener
than ever yet were feathers ; and a demure white cat with round black
spots, as if cut out of court-plaister, sitting with her tail curled round
her fore-legs, on the chest of drawers. And there are shells upon the
j mantel-piece ; and dried sea-weed (a piece of it, I shall beg to mark
yesterday with; a piece to look at, in future days if ever peevish, dis-
contented thoughts arise, to look at and learn from it patience and
thankfulness); and the model of a little boat—perhaps the boat of the
poor thing's husband.
And here, more dead than alive, they brought me last night. Here,
making the bed as hot as an oven, they laid my storm-tossed limbs—
here they would nurse and wait upon my little wayward self that would
go upon the sea, if only to shew my spirit, and to have almost my little
life (and his life ; ah, that was the wrong—the wickedness) washed out
of me. And I deserved it, / did: but he ? I could weep again to
think of my stubbornness.
And the old woman of the house—the cabin, I mean—has been with
me. And so thankful, so kind, and so full of excuses for the plack
that " is not for the likes of me "—(" the likes of me," indeed ! when
I might have been in some deep sea-cave, or flung like so much sea-
weed upon the beach; a dead thing, that makes all unlikes so very like)
—and so she tells me that the messenger can't be long before he comes
back from the White Hart; for though it's a good twelve miles from
Choughcliff, he'd a good horse, and would ride his fastest, and they 'd
send back a post-chaise with a change of clothes, and I should only-
laugh some day at the bedroom with the brick floor ; though, after all,
she must say—with such weather, and with such a coast; she knew it
well; she had—God help her ! and here with her apron she wiped her
eyes—she had good cause to know it—with such weather, we had been
lucky as all turned out. Poor soul! Her husband, with one of her
sons, had been drowned—drowned just off the shore—she might have
heard 'em cry. But she wouldn't talk of that now: but it was a
blessed Providence that with such a wind? and such a tide, we had
ever made the land as we did. We'd driven at least fifteen miles
by sea; and oh! the poor souls that had gone down just off thi*
Point!
And at this time, I hear the cry of a baby. Yes; that is her
daughter's baby—that is the young woman who had married her son
Her son is a fisherman, and—and—would I like to see the baby ?
_ What a dear little rose-bud! Just two months old—well, I never
did see such a beautiful baby! And so strong, and so fresh; as if it
had been born and rocked at sea.
And the mother—a buxom, charming young woman—comes to hope
that baby does n't teaze me. She has not been so much herself, she
says, as she might have been—and the baby's hardly so tidy as she'd
like. And—I can't but see it—there's something strange and restless
in the young woman's manner. She says, it was a dreadful night last
night—but then, people who get their living out of the sea must make
then minds up to bad weather.—It's nothing, when Providence is
above all. Still, they've had their trials in that house ; but still they
must hope for the best—it's their duty and—and shall she take baby
from me,—for he's fallen asleep in my lap!
Oh no ! Let him be just a few minutes; only a few. Eor I can't
help thinking how I should like Ebedebick to come just now and look
at the dear little fellow fast asleep in my lap. And he looks so happy,
too; so composed, and so much at home !
What a beautiful, solemn, mysterious thing is a baby's face! I don't
know why I should think in this manner now! I never thought so
before. Yes ; such a pretty mystery! Such an unopened book !
Well, mamma would laugh to see me now. In this place; and such
a figure as I am—but Josephine can't be long with my things, if the
man rides fast—but mamma would laugh to see me with a baby on mv
knees. She would-