DOI issue:
January to June, 1853
DOI Page / Citation link:https://doi.org/10.11588/diglit.16611#0209
PUNCH, OR THE LOIN DON CHARIVARI. 201
A "SWELL'S" HOMAGE TO MRS. STOWE,
A must wead Uncle Tom— a wawk
Which, A'm afwaid's extwemely slow,
People one meets begin to talk
Of Mrs. Harwietbeeciiastowe,
'Tis not as if A saw ha name
To walls and windas still confined;
All that is meawly vulga fame :
A don't wespect the public mind.
But Staffa'd House has made haw quite
Anotha kind a pawson look,
A Countess would pasist, last night,
In asking me about haw book.
She wished to know if I admiawd
Eva, which quit e confounded me ;
And then haw Ladyship inqwaw'd
Whethaw A didn't hate Legwee ?
Bai Jove ! A was completely fiaw'd;
A wish'd myself, or haw, at Fwance :
And that's the way a fella's baw'd
By ev'wy gal he asks to dance.
A felt myself a gweata fool
Than A had evaw felt befaw-
A'll study at some Wag«ed School
The tale of that old Blackamaw !
THE CONSTITUTIONAL WALK.
Lady. " Dear, dear, it's coming on to rain ! Kun, James ! Quick, and fetch an Umbrella
and two Parasols. I'm afraid my poor dear Cochins will get the Rheumatism ! "
A Parliamentary Move.
Sibthorpe is vastly indignant at the fuss that
is being made about "movingthe table," which,
he says, any broker's man can do, but what is it,
he asks, compared to the fact of his being able,
any nigbt he chooses, to "move the entire
House ?"
OUR HONEYMOON.
SATURDAY, MAY 18, 18—.
To-dat, a blank; and so to end my sad, sad story of yesterday.
When Frederick offered me the nettle to mark the day with—his day,
he said, I put on my glove a-s coolly as I could—just to shew my spirit,
and took it from him smiling, as if it had been a rose. I would let him
see, that I would not be stung by his cruelty. A nettle, indeed ! And
in a honeymoon!
Well, we had scarcely risen to go home, when Josephine came flying
back across the fields. 1 knew something dreadful had happened.
" That bmb of a poney had broken from the stupid boy, and had torn
back like mad." I expected to see Frederick, in a rage ; but no, he
only laugbed—laughed as if he mightily enjoyed it.
" No matter," said he, " 'tisn't above eight or nine miles back over
the fields."—
" And in this weather," said I, " with the sun over one's head and in
one's face ; and I think I've suffered enough."
" If we step along," said Frederick, with all the carelessness in the
world, "we shall be at home before the gnats are out. Gnats, you
know, only make up evening parties."
" Oh, certainly "—said I— ' if you desire it: of course you know my
strength better than myself: you ought, of course; man is such a
superior creature: you ought to know."
" Well, Lotty," said he, and my heart began to melt at the softness
of his voice ; and I did not feel the gnat blotches on my face, he looked
so tenderly into it—" Well, poor Lotty, I tell you—as you're tired—
I tell you, dear, what we'll do."
" Yes, love," I answered, very happily.
"We'll cast ourselves upon the hospitality of Squire Bliss—he
can hardly have got home—and, amending our resolution, put up for
an hour or two at Beanblossoms."
"Just as you please," said I, with such a sudden tightness of the
heart I'd never felt the like. "Just—as—-you—please. But for
myself, I can walk."
"What! alone?"
" Yes ; why not ? Quite alone ; that is, Josephine and I can walk
together. You, if so very tired can rest yourself with Mr. and Miss
Bliss ; and perhaps—if we don t walk very fast—perhaps, long before
we get home, you '11 overtake us."
Frederick made no answer ; but I thought I heard him sigh: and
then, for a moment, he nassed his hand across his forehead.
" Have you got the headache, dear ? " said I.
"No; not the head;" and he walked on, merely adding, as he
pointed the way, " This is the shortest cut; this will bring us the
nearest way to the comforts and debghts of our own fireside;" and then
he broke into a low whistle.
For a time we waked on in silence. For myself, I never believed
that we should walk all the way. I made certain we should find a
house where we might put up, and get another chaise home. And so
we went on, the sun burning fiercer and fiercer, and Josephine—quite
red hot—casting such pitiful looks about her. And so we crossed
field after field, and found nothing.
" When shall we come to a house, Fred ? " I at last ventured to
inquire.
" Well, the house—the only house—this way across the fields—the
only house from the inn,"—
"Yes, dear?"—
"Is the house we've turned our backs upon. Beanblossoms, my
love, is the only house I know; and as you 're very tired—I can see
you are; and with this heat, you '11 be brown as any mulatto "—;
"Oh, no matter for that. I'm sure I needn't care anything for
complexion, now. That's all over now,—since nobody else cares
about it."
"Your philosophy, Charlotte, is debghtful. After all, what U
complexion, especially when a woman's married ? If the sunburns her
face to a cinder—what then? The husband has taken the face for
life; white or pink, black or brown. So why need she care?; The
great first business of a woman is to get a husband: when he's got,
her anxiety may be said to be over : she's so convinced that the law
must hold him, she may make herself quite easy and independent of the
matter."
I knew he didn't mean a word he said; but I made no answer for
I knew he was in one of his aggravating humours, so I was resolved
—suffer what I might—to say nothing. And still the sun burned
hotter and hotter—and I'd had nothing to eat since breakfast—and as
I kept walking on, I felt every step fainter and fainter, and I thought
with every step, I should drop. And so went on broiling and broibng—
and for all the weather, Frederick was as cool as a frog—but thii
was to aggravate me. -
" We must have come seven miles at least," said I.
"Not three," said Fred. ;. < ;
" And is there no inn, no habitation, no roof between this and '—
" Not a door, not a thatch," answered Fred ; stepping out at the
words, as if he'd got on a pair of three-leagued boots.
Von. 24,.
7—2
A "SWELL'S" HOMAGE TO MRS. STOWE,
A must wead Uncle Tom— a wawk
Which, A'm afwaid's extwemely slow,
People one meets begin to talk
Of Mrs. Harwietbeeciiastowe,
'Tis not as if A saw ha name
To walls and windas still confined;
All that is meawly vulga fame :
A don't wespect the public mind.
But Staffa'd House has made haw quite
Anotha kind a pawson look,
A Countess would pasist, last night,
In asking me about haw book.
She wished to know if I admiawd
Eva, which quit e confounded me ;
And then haw Ladyship inqwaw'd
Whethaw A didn't hate Legwee ?
Bai Jove ! A was completely fiaw'd;
A wish'd myself, or haw, at Fwance :
And that's the way a fella's baw'd
By ev'wy gal he asks to dance.
A felt myself a gweata fool
Than A had evaw felt befaw-
A'll study at some Wag«ed School
The tale of that old Blackamaw !
THE CONSTITUTIONAL WALK.
Lady. " Dear, dear, it's coming on to rain ! Kun, James ! Quick, and fetch an Umbrella
and two Parasols. I'm afraid my poor dear Cochins will get the Rheumatism ! "
A Parliamentary Move.
Sibthorpe is vastly indignant at the fuss that
is being made about "movingthe table," which,
he says, any broker's man can do, but what is it,
he asks, compared to the fact of his being able,
any nigbt he chooses, to "move the entire
House ?"
OUR HONEYMOON.
SATURDAY, MAY 18, 18—.
To-dat, a blank; and so to end my sad, sad story of yesterday.
When Frederick offered me the nettle to mark the day with—his day,
he said, I put on my glove a-s coolly as I could—just to shew my spirit,
and took it from him smiling, as if it had been a rose. I would let him
see, that I would not be stung by his cruelty. A nettle, indeed ! And
in a honeymoon!
Well, we had scarcely risen to go home, when Josephine came flying
back across the fields. 1 knew something dreadful had happened.
" That bmb of a poney had broken from the stupid boy, and had torn
back like mad." I expected to see Frederick, in a rage ; but no, he
only laugbed—laughed as if he mightily enjoyed it.
" No matter," said he, " 'tisn't above eight or nine miles back over
the fields."—
" And in this weather," said I, " with the sun over one's head and in
one's face ; and I think I've suffered enough."
" If we step along," said Frederick, with all the carelessness in the
world, "we shall be at home before the gnats are out. Gnats, you
know, only make up evening parties."
" Oh, certainly "—said I— ' if you desire it: of course you know my
strength better than myself: you ought, of course; man is such a
superior creature: you ought to know."
" Well, Lotty," said he, and my heart began to melt at the softness
of his voice ; and I did not feel the gnat blotches on my face, he looked
so tenderly into it—" Well, poor Lotty, I tell you—as you're tired—
I tell you, dear, what we'll do."
" Yes, love," I answered, very happily.
"We'll cast ourselves upon the hospitality of Squire Bliss—he
can hardly have got home—and, amending our resolution, put up for
an hour or two at Beanblossoms."
"Just as you please," said I, with such a sudden tightness of the
heart I'd never felt the like. "Just—as—-you—please. But for
myself, I can walk."
"What! alone?"
" Yes ; why not ? Quite alone ; that is, Josephine and I can walk
together. You, if so very tired can rest yourself with Mr. and Miss
Bliss ; and perhaps—if we don t walk very fast—perhaps, long before
we get home, you '11 overtake us."
Frederick made no answer ; but I thought I heard him sigh: and
then, for a moment, he nassed his hand across his forehead.
" Have you got the headache, dear ? " said I.
"No; not the head;" and he walked on, merely adding, as he
pointed the way, " This is the shortest cut; this will bring us the
nearest way to the comforts and debghts of our own fireside;" and then
he broke into a low whistle.
For a time we waked on in silence. For myself, I never believed
that we should walk all the way. I made certain we should find a
house where we might put up, and get another chaise home. And so
we went on, the sun burning fiercer and fiercer, and Josephine—quite
red hot—casting such pitiful looks about her. And so we crossed
field after field, and found nothing.
" When shall we come to a house, Fred ? " I at last ventured to
inquire.
" Well, the house—the only house—this way across the fields—the
only house from the inn,"—
"Yes, dear?"—
"Is the house we've turned our backs upon. Beanblossoms, my
love, is the only house I know; and as you 're very tired—I can see
you are; and with this heat, you '11 be brown as any mulatto "—;
"Oh, no matter for that. I'm sure I needn't care anything for
complexion, now. That's all over now,—since nobody else cares
about it."
"Your philosophy, Charlotte, is debghtful. After all, what U
complexion, especially when a woman's married ? If the sunburns her
face to a cinder—what then? The husband has taken the face for
life; white or pink, black or brown. So why need she care?; The
great first business of a woman is to get a husband: when he's got,
her anxiety may be said to be over : she's so convinced that the law
must hold him, she may make herself quite easy and independent of the
matter."
I knew he didn't mean a word he said; but I made no answer for
I knew he was in one of his aggravating humours, so I was resolved
—suffer what I might—to say nothing. And still the sun burned
hotter and hotter—and I'd had nothing to eat since breakfast—and as
I kept walking on, I felt every step fainter and fainter, and I thought
with every step, I should drop. And so went on broiling and broibng—
and for all the weather, Frederick was as cool as a frog—but thii
was to aggravate me. -
" We must have come seven miles at least," said I.
"Not three," said Fred. ;. < ;
" And is there no inn, no habitation, no roof between this and '—
" Not a door, not a thatch," answered Fred ; stepping out at the
words, as if he'd got on a pair of three-leagued boots.
Von. 24,.
7—2