DOI issue:
July to December, 1853
DOI Page / Citation link:https://doi.org/10.11588/diglit.16612#0054
42
PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.
doesn’t like—like one’s sins to be—bullied—that is, not at the
sea-side.”
“ Quite right, Tom,” said Fred, who I could see was helping him
out. “ "Very well in one’s own parish church, but“
ran from the room ; and in a
my bonnet on so quick—in a
‘ We shall be too late,” said I, and I
minute—never in all my life did I put
minute I was ready.
The church was extremely full—as we afterwards found—for the
season. Frederick was particularly serious; and for Mr. Trtjepenny,
if he’d been listening to his own condemned sermon, he couldn’t have
been more solemn. It was odd, too, I thought, the glances he now ■
and then cast towards me. And particularly when the clergyman said
—and he seemed, I really did think for the minute, as though he was
looking right into our pew, when he said—“ Thou shalt do no murder j
at the very words, Mr. Truepenny let his prayer-book slip, and made
such a start to catch it, that he drew all eyes upon us. I saw
Frederick colour scarlet, and bite his lips as he glanced at his friend, j
/it last the service was over, and we got away.
“ A very nice sermon,” said Mr. Truepenny, trying to say
something.
"I added; for I knew he was half-asleep all the
‘Yery soothing,”
time.
“ Yes ; that’s it,’
to a watering-place.
said he: “ but that’s what I like, when I come
Something quiet, something to think over.”
Well, we returned to the inn; and somehow we got through the
day. I don’t know how late Mr. Truepenny would have sat; but,
for all Fred’s nods and winks, I was determined to sit him out. At
last—it was nearly twelve—at last he went away.
“We shall meet in the morning,” said Fred to him.
“ Of—of course,” said Mr. Truepenny ; and then with the
twkwardest bow in the world, he left me and Fred together.
“ We’d better go to bed,” said Fred. “ Isn’t it late ? ”
“Yery;,” said I; “and for my part I thought Mr. Truepenny was
never going.”
I went into my room, and—there upon my table—was a slip of paper '
written in Josephine’s hand, with these words :
“ If you really love master, you 'll not let him get up to-morrow
morning! ” _ [
And now all the horror was plain as light! “ Get up! ” I thought j
—and all a woman’s resolution came upon me—“ only let me once get
him well to bed, and he doesn't get up” I listened for his footsteps.
He came. I met him with a smile; and didn't I leek the door ?
MARKET AND TRADE REPORT.
City.—The deportation of
such large numbers of shirt;
hands, to which we have \
before alluded, has caused
an unparallelled rise in
wages, amounting, we are
assured, in some cases, to
as much as a farthing per
dozen on “ gents’ dress.”
It is rumoured that the
“ United Distressed Needle-
women” contemplate
striking for a reduction
of the hours of labour.
Twentv-one hours a day,
with three intervals of two
minutes each for meals, ex- J
cept during the busy season
which comprises only about j
eleven months in the year, |
is spoken of as likely to be
their stipulation.
Manchester. — Police-
men are in rather better
demand, at a slight advance on former prices. Good stout articles are
quoted at from 13.?. to 17s. per week; sergeants 19s. to 21s.; best
blues, strong, full length, 23s.
SAPPHICS OP THE CABSTAND.
Friend of Self-Government.
Seedy Cab-driver, whither art thou going:
Sad is thy fate—reduced to law and order.
Local self-government yielding to the gripe of
Centralisation.
Yictim of Fitzroy ! little think the M. P.’s,
Lording it o’er cab, ’bus, lodging-house and graveyard.
Of the good times when every Anglo-Saxon’s
House was his castle.
Say, hapless sufferer, was it Mr. Chadwick—
Underground foe to the British Constitution—
Or my Lord Shaftesbury, put up Mr. Fitzroy
Thus to assail you ?
Was it the growth of Continental notions,
Or was it the Metropolitan police force
Prompted this blow at Laissezfaire; that free and
Easiest of doctrines ?
Have you not read Mr. Toulmin Smith’s great work on
Centralisation ? If you haven’t, buy it;
Meanwhile I should be glad at once to hear your
Yiew on the subject.
Cab-driver.
Yiew on the subjeck ? jiggered if I’ve got one;
Only I -wants no centrylisin’, I don’t—
Which 1 suppose it’s a crusher standin’ sentry
Hover a cabstand.
Whereby if we gives e’er a word o’ cheek to
Parties as rides, they pulls us up like winkin’—
And them there blessed beaks is down upon us
Dead as an ’ammer !
As for Mr. Toulmin Smith, can’t say I knows him—
But as you talks so werry like a gem’man.
Perhaps you ’re a goin’ in ’ansome style to stand a
Shillin’ a mile. Sir ?
Friend of Self-Government.
I give a shilling ? I will see thee hanged first—
Sixpence a mile—or drive me straight to Bow Street—
Idle, ill-mannered, dissipated, dirty,
Insolent rascal!
Carving his Way to Iniquity.
A culinary wag (not Soyer) has inserted in his Cookery Book the
proclamation of the Emperor Nicholas, in which he talks so largely
about the “ orthodox faith,” and “ the sword,” and has labelled it:
“ Directions for Cutting up a Turkey.”
the stamp of liberality and meanness.
The liberal man, when he is in doubt about the proper weight of a
letter, puts on two stamps: the mean man only puts on one.
PEDESTRIANISM AT ST. STEPHEN’S.
Members of the House of Commons, being in the Library, or
elsewhere about the House, have to run for it in order to be present
at divisions, and are sometimes too late. Lightness of heels (as well
as of principle) appears to be a quality necessary to a representative
of the British people. An election contest might be an actual foot-
race. Why not F The candidate that is able to outrun his opponent
is at least as fit and proper a man to represent a constituency, as he
is who can outbribe him. However this may be, we expect soon to
see some such arrangements as the following among the Parliamentary
notices :—
Thomas Babington Macaulay will run Joseph Hume, or any
other Member, on the India question; or what not.
Frederick Lucas, the Scarlet Runner, will match himself with
Phinn, the Bath Brick, to run any length upon the Nunneries’ Bill;
or as much farther as the Pope chooses.
Colonel Sibthorpe will run any Member of Her Majesty’s
Government (in which he has no confidence) at any time, on any
question.
We shall also have Sir J. T. Tyrrell, the Farmer’s Boy,
challenging Lord John Russell, the Bedford Pet, to a trial of speed;
the Attorney-General will be invited to a similar match by
Sir F. Thesiger; Mr. Bright will be proposing to hop Lord
Palmerston; and perhaps Mr. Benjamin Disraeli will want to
jump Mr. Gladstone in a budget.
ST. STEPHEN S RUBBER.
To judge from the smoke in which the investigation of the Dockyard
abuses has ended, it would seem that the late Government played their
cards in the knowledge that knaves were trumps.
The East India House.—It has been said of the East India House,
that “ it is an establishment which, in patronage, and other delicate
little matters, generally goes £ the whole Hogg.’ ”
PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.
doesn’t like—like one’s sins to be—bullied—that is, not at the
sea-side.”
“ Quite right, Tom,” said Fred, who I could see was helping him
out. “ "Very well in one’s own parish church, but“
ran from the room ; and in a
my bonnet on so quick—in a
‘ We shall be too late,” said I, and I
minute—never in all my life did I put
minute I was ready.
The church was extremely full—as we afterwards found—for the
season. Frederick was particularly serious; and for Mr. Trtjepenny,
if he’d been listening to his own condemned sermon, he couldn’t have
been more solemn. It was odd, too, I thought, the glances he now ■
and then cast towards me. And particularly when the clergyman said
—and he seemed, I really did think for the minute, as though he was
looking right into our pew, when he said—“ Thou shalt do no murder j
at the very words, Mr. Truepenny let his prayer-book slip, and made
such a start to catch it, that he drew all eyes upon us. I saw
Frederick colour scarlet, and bite his lips as he glanced at his friend, j
/it last the service was over, and we got away.
“ A very nice sermon,” said Mr. Truepenny, trying to say
something.
"I added; for I knew he was half-asleep all the
‘Yery soothing,”
time.
“ Yes ; that’s it,’
to a watering-place.
said he: “ but that’s what I like, when I come
Something quiet, something to think over.”
Well, we returned to the inn; and somehow we got through the
day. I don’t know how late Mr. Truepenny would have sat; but,
for all Fred’s nods and winks, I was determined to sit him out. At
last—it was nearly twelve—at last he went away.
“We shall meet in the morning,” said Fred to him.
“ Of—of course,” said Mr. Truepenny ; and then with the
twkwardest bow in the world, he left me and Fred together.
“ We’d better go to bed,” said Fred. “ Isn’t it late ? ”
“Yery;,” said I; “and for my part I thought Mr. Truepenny was
never going.”
I went into my room, and—there upon my table—was a slip of paper '
written in Josephine’s hand, with these words :
“ If you really love master, you 'll not let him get up to-morrow
morning! ” _ [
And now all the horror was plain as light! “ Get up! ” I thought j
—and all a woman’s resolution came upon me—“ only let me once get
him well to bed, and he doesn't get up” I listened for his footsteps.
He came. I met him with a smile; and didn't I leek the door ?
MARKET AND TRADE REPORT.
City.—The deportation of
such large numbers of shirt;
hands, to which we have \
before alluded, has caused
an unparallelled rise in
wages, amounting, we are
assured, in some cases, to
as much as a farthing per
dozen on “ gents’ dress.”
It is rumoured that the
“ United Distressed Needle-
women” contemplate
striking for a reduction
of the hours of labour.
Twentv-one hours a day,
with three intervals of two
minutes each for meals, ex- J
cept during the busy season
which comprises only about j
eleven months in the year, |
is spoken of as likely to be
their stipulation.
Manchester. — Police-
men are in rather better
demand, at a slight advance on former prices. Good stout articles are
quoted at from 13.?. to 17s. per week; sergeants 19s. to 21s.; best
blues, strong, full length, 23s.
SAPPHICS OP THE CABSTAND.
Friend of Self-Government.
Seedy Cab-driver, whither art thou going:
Sad is thy fate—reduced to law and order.
Local self-government yielding to the gripe of
Centralisation.
Yictim of Fitzroy ! little think the M. P.’s,
Lording it o’er cab, ’bus, lodging-house and graveyard.
Of the good times when every Anglo-Saxon’s
House was his castle.
Say, hapless sufferer, was it Mr. Chadwick—
Underground foe to the British Constitution—
Or my Lord Shaftesbury, put up Mr. Fitzroy
Thus to assail you ?
Was it the growth of Continental notions,
Or was it the Metropolitan police force
Prompted this blow at Laissezfaire; that free and
Easiest of doctrines ?
Have you not read Mr. Toulmin Smith’s great work on
Centralisation ? If you haven’t, buy it;
Meanwhile I should be glad at once to hear your
Yiew on the subject.
Cab-driver.
Yiew on the subjeck ? jiggered if I’ve got one;
Only I -wants no centrylisin’, I don’t—
Which 1 suppose it’s a crusher standin’ sentry
Hover a cabstand.
Whereby if we gives e’er a word o’ cheek to
Parties as rides, they pulls us up like winkin’—
And them there blessed beaks is down upon us
Dead as an ’ammer !
As for Mr. Toulmin Smith, can’t say I knows him—
But as you talks so werry like a gem’man.
Perhaps you ’re a goin’ in ’ansome style to stand a
Shillin’ a mile. Sir ?
Friend of Self-Government.
I give a shilling ? I will see thee hanged first—
Sixpence a mile—or drive me straight to Bow Street—
Idle, ill-mannered, dissipated, dirty,
Insolent rascal!
Carving his Way to Iniquity.
A culinary wag (not Soyer) has inserted in his Cookery Book the
proclamation of the Emperor Nicholas, in which he talks so largely
about the “ orthodox faith,” and “ the sword,” and has labelled it:
“ Directions for Cutting up a Turkey.”
the stamp of liberality and meanness.
The liberal man, when he is in doubt about the proper weight of a
letter, puts on two stamps: the mean man only puts on one.
PEDESTRIANISM AT ST. STEPHEN’S.
Members of the House of Commons, being in the Library, or
elsewhere about the House, have to run for it in order to be present
at divisions, and are sometimes too late. Lightness of heels (as well
as of principle) appears to be a quality necessary to a representative
of the British people. An election contest might be an actual foot-
race. Why not F The candidate that is able to outrun his opponent
is at least as fit and proper a man to represent a constituency, as he
is who can outbribe him. However this may be, we expect soon to
see some such arrangements as the following among the Parliamentary
notices :—
Thomas Babington Macaulay will run Joseph Hume, or any
other Member, on the India question; or what not.
Frederick Lucas, the Scarlet Runner, will match himself with
Phinn, the Bath Brick, to run any length upon the Nunneries’ Bill;
or as much farther as the Pope chooses.
Colonel Sibthorpe will run any Member of Her Majesty’s
Government (in which he has no confidence) at any time, on any
question.
We shall also have Sir J. T. Tyrrell, the Farmer’s Boy,
challenging Lord John Russell, the Bedford Pet, to a trial of speed;
the Attorney-General will be invited to a similar match by
Sir F. Thesiger; Mr. Bright will be proposing to hop Lord
Palmerston; and perhaps Mr. Benjamin Disraeli will want to
jump Mr. Gladstone in a budget.
ST. STEPHEN S RUBBER.
To judge from the smoke in which the investigation of the Dockyard
abuses has ended, it would seem that the late Government played their
cards in the knowledge that knaves were trumps.
The East India House.—It has been said of the East India House,
that “ it is an establishment which, in patronage, and other delicate
little matters, generally goes £ the whole Hogg.’ ”