DOI issue:
July to December, 1854
DOI Page / Citation link:https://doi.org/10.11588/diglit.16614#0079
PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.
71
" Quite fresh, my lady. Picked on Saturday morning, and shelled
the very last thing over night."
" Shelled over night! " exclaimed Mrs. Dewlap, astounded by the
intelligence. "And do you think, Me. Pottles, that you can dare to
hope to continue to serve me with peas shelled over night ? "
" Shouldn't do it, of course, my lady," said Pottles, who began to
feel all his guilt coming upon him, falling from the avenging brow 01
Mrs. Dewlap—" shouldn't do it of course, except on a Saturday
night."
" And wherefore on a Saturday night ? " asked the lady.
" Why, my lady, because you know we don't keep open any time o!
a Sunday."
" I should suppose not; or do you suppose I would lay out a penny
with an infidel ? But if you do close on a Sunday, and have to supply
me with peas, can't you, at the last minute, shell them behind the
shutters ?
Pottles was weak—Pottles was money-making—Pottles was
afraid of losing his custom. He had already been threatened with a
rival. What was to be done ?
We cannot answer—that is, not for the very truth. But it is said
that never again did Mr. or Mrs. Dewlap complain of insipid Sunday
peas. They asked no questions. Pottles' Sabbath shutters were, as
ever, closed; but who can tell what things were shelled behind the
shutters ?
Next Parliament, Mr. Dewlap intends to be returned for the
Borough of Coseysoul; if only, as he has been heard to declare, to lift
his voice against the unhallowed Bill of Joseph Htjme—of the infidel
who would open the British Museum and the National Gallery after
the hours of church.
Perhaps, however, Mr. Dewlap may be brought to a compromise:
he may vote for the measure, with the amendment, that what is to be
seen may be exhibited—behind the shutters.
Stout Party (loq.). " Dear ! dear ! dear ! Where can that
Stupid Dog have got to?"
BEHIND THE SHUTTERS.
: My dear, these peas have no flavour."
: Not a bit, my love."
You might as well eat bran, my dear."
THE GALLANT FORTY-SIXTH.
Hurrah for British bravery, for gallantry and worth!
Three cheers for English officers and gentlemen by birth !
The honour of the army is not an idle boast;
Pill high the pewter-pot—fill high—the Porty-sixth we toast.
What noble deeds of chivalry the Forty-sixth have done!
"Just as~well; but-no matter-I'll give it 'em. It's very pro- HowgaUantly ten^officers have persecuted one !
voking, my love, but-set your mind at rest-I '11 give it 'em as they i ^ha,*. brilkant feats of daring ! honour to him who led
never had. it " ^e Slx or ei§>Qt wno went to pull one ensign out ot bed.
Green peas are a sweet thing; like green youth; it is a pity they! mat yalour and what br the Forty.sixtn displayed,
should ever be spoiled Our esteemed friend, Mr. Dewlap-(uo man m Qfl ea(jh ^ bedroom doors a grand attack they made;
as a Christian was prouder of the beauty of his pew m tlie Church of St. : m offi and gentlemen came to decisive blowSj
Oil-cum-Honey than DEWLAp)-our esteemed friend, we say, was par- B { h ^ Uantl about tte e es and nose.
ticularly lond ot green peas, and m the course ot a tolerably long and 00 0 '
to himself extremely useful life, he had so educated his palate—and what j what bold and skilful strategy the Forty-sixth employed,
it had cost for its education not he himself could tell!—that with the How cleverly the enemy was harassed and annoyed!
first green pea he could pretty well tell the hour when it was plucked;; what splendid engineering! what tactics can compare,
whether at sunrise or sun-down ; the precise time, too, when the peaj with throwing all the bed-clothes into the barrack-square '.
was shelled, whether a certain number 01 hours before dinner; or
whether, a few timely minutes before they were dropt into the pot.
Now, as the Sunday—it was a beautiful Sunday late in June—on which
Mr. Dewlap condemned the peas as being of no better flavour than
bran, he had been much comforted by a sermon under the roof of Oil-
cum-Honey, preached by the Reverend Joshua Stickleback in
denunciation of Sunday bakings. A shoulder of mutton dripping upon
the under kidneys was a fearful type of what the consumers thereof in
this world might—upon his authority—take it upon themselves to
expect upon the coals. Mr. Dewlap dropt a five-shiliing-piece in the
plate that day; and Mrs. Dewlap observed to more than one friend
m the church-porch that they had been edified by a most sweet dis-
course. When the Government wanted a bishop—she spoke in a
whisper—she only hoped that the Government would take its staff, and
make a pilgrimage to the shrine of St. Oil-cum-Honey.
The next day, Mrs. Dewlap's brougham stopped, with almost ominous
emphasis, at the door of Pottles, flourishing fruiterer and greengrocer;
for the Dewlaps dwelt in the beautifid suburban village of Tomtitfield.
Nevertheless, the shop of Pottles might have fairly held up its head
even in Covent Garden; it was so rosy with fruit; and so fresh, so
cool with the freshest and coolest of vegetables.
Mrs. Dewlap, having nothing to do, would always overwork herself
by causing herself to be driven to her own tradesfolk. She only dealt
with people of unimpeachable character—in so far as that could be for
their station,—but how was she to know who was who, unless she
personally bent the whole powers of her intellect to the inquiry ?
Hence, Mrs. Dewlap drew up at the door of Pottles.
f.n one moment Pottles was at the door of the brougham.
" Mr. Pottles, those peas you sent in yesterdav "—
"Yes, my lady?"—
" They were like bullets. You '11 not contradict it, bullets."
The boldness of the Forty-sixth ! how gloriously rash!
What recklessness of character—what recklessness of cash!
How heedlessly the officers a sacrifice can make
Of fame and money—turning both into a gambler's stake.
'Tis true that England is at war, but who can with her cope
When to the Forty-sixth she points—part of her pride and hope t
No wonder that the world in arms she boastingly defies,
While she upon her "officers and gentlemen" relies.
Let's own that with the Porty-sixth no other can compare ;
That in the British army its qualities are rare;
Upon itself alone, 'tis right, its character should fix ;
Let's strike from out the Army List the number Forty-six.
Physic for the Enemy.
A Contemporary lately stated that the Government has been en-
gaged in trying antimonial balls. It is necessary to observe that the
balls in question were cannon-balls; otherwise it might be surmised
that the War-Office authorities must have made themselves ill. The
advantage of these balls consists in breaking when they strike their
mark, and flying to pieces : thus flinging m all directions lumps of
metal, which, being antimony, are of course calculated to give all within
the sphere of their destructiveness a regular sickener.
An Invariable Pule.—Let the wittiest thing be said in society,
there is sure to be some fool present, who, " for the life of him, cannot
see it."
71
" Quite fresh, my lady. Picked on Saturday morning, and shelled
the very last thing over night."
" Shelled over night! " exclaimed Mrs. Dewlap, astounded by the
intelligence. "And do you think, Me. Pottles, that you can dare to
hope to continue to serve me with peas shelled over night ? "
" Shouldn't do it, of course, my lady," said Pottles, who began to
feel all his guilt coming upon him, falling from the avenging brow 01
Mrs. Dewlap—" shouldn't do it of course, except on a Saturday
night."
" And wherefore on a Saturday night ? " asked the lady.
" Why, my lady, because you know we don't keep open any time o!
a Sunday."
" I should suppose not; or do you suppose I would lay out a penny
with an infidel ? But if you do close on a Sunday, and have to supply
me with peas, can't you, at the last minute, shell them behind the
shutters ?
Pottles was weak—Pottles was money-making—Pottles was
afraid of losing his custom. He had already been threatened with a
rival. What was to be done ?
We cannot answer—that is, not for the very truth. But it is said
that never again did Mr. or Mrs. Dewlap complain of insipid Sunday
peas. They asked no questions. Pottles' Sabbath shutters were, as
ever, closed; but who can tell what things were shelled behind the
shutters ?
Next Parliament, Mr. Dewlap intends to be returned for the
Borough of Coseysoul; if only, as he has been heard to declare, to lift
his voice against the unhallowed Bill of Joseph Htjme—of the infidel
who would open the British Museum and the National Gallery after
the hours of church.
Perhaps, however, Mr. Dewlap may be brought to a compromise:
he may vote for the measure, with the amendment, that what is to be
seen may be exhibited—behind the shutters.
Stout Party (loq.). " Dear ! dear ! dear ! Where can that
Stupid Dog have got to?"
BEHIND THE SHUTTERS.
: My dear, these peas have no flavour."
: Not a bit, my love."
You might as well eat bran, my dear."
THE GALLANT FORTY-SIXTH.
Hurrah for British bravery, for gallantry and worth!
Three cheers for English officers and gentlemen by birth !
The honour of the army is not an idle boast;
Pill high the pewter-pot—fill high—the Porty-sixth we toast.
What noble deeds of chivalry the Forty-sixth have done!
"Just as~well; but-no matter-I'll give it 'em. It's very pro- HowgaUantly ten^officers have persecuted one !
voking, my love, but-set your mind at rest-I '11 give it 'em as they i ^ha,*. brilkant feats of daring ! honour to him who led
never had. it " ^e Slx or ei§>Qt wno went to pull one ensign out ot bed.
Green peas are a sweet thing; like green youth; it is a pity they! mat yalour and what br the Forty.sixtn displayed,
should ever be spoiled Our esteemed friend, Mr. Dewlap-(uo man m Qfl ea(jh ^ bedroom doors a grand attack they made;
as a Christian was prouder of the beauty of his pew m tlie Church of St. : m offi and gentlemen came to decisive blowSj
Oil-cum-Honey than DEWLAp)-our esteemed friend, we say, was par- B { h ^ Uantl about tte e es and nose.
ticularly lond ot green peas, and m the course ot a tolerably long and 00 0 '
to himself extremely useful life, he had so educated his palate—and what j what bold and skilful strategy the Forty-sixth employed,
it had cost for its education not he himself could tell!—that with the How cleverly the enemy was harassed and annoyed!
first green pea he could pretty well tell the hour when it was plucked;; what splendid engineering! what tactics can compare,
whether at sunrise or sun-down ; the precise time, too, when the peaj with throwing all the bed-clothes into the barrack-square '.
was shelled, whether a certain number 01 hours before dinner; or
whether, a few timely minutes before they were dropt into the pot.
Now, as the Sunday—it was a beautiful Sunday late in June—on which
Mr. Dewlap condemned the peas as being of no better flavour than
bran, he had been much comforted by a sermon under the roof of Oil-
cum-Honey, preached by the Reverend Joshua Stickleback in
denunciation of Sunday bakings. A shoulder of mutton dripping upon
the under kidneys was a fearful type of what the consumers thereof in
this world might—upon his authority—take it upon themselves to
expect upon the coals. Mr. Dewlap dropt a five-shiliing-piece in the
plate that day; and Mrs. Dewlap observed to more than one friend
m the church-porch that they had been edified by a most sweet dis-
course. When the Government wanted a bishop—she spoke in a
whisper—she only hoped that the Government would take its staff, and
make a pilgrimage to the shrine of St. Oil-cum-Honey.
The next day, Mrs. Dewlap's brougham stopped, with almost ominous
emphasis, at the door of Pottles, flourishing fruiterer and greengrocer;
for the Dewlaps dwelt in the beautifid suburban village of Tomtitfield.
Nevertheless, the shop of Pottles might have fairly held up its head
even in Covent Garden; it was so rosy with fruit; and so fresh, so
cool with the freshest and coolest of vegetables.
Mrs. Dewlap, having nothing to do, would always overwork herself
by causing herself to be driven to her own tradesfolk. She only dealt
with people of unimpeachable character—in so far as that could be for
their station,—but how was she to know who was who, unless she
personally bent the whole powers of her intellect to the inquiry ?
Hence, Mrs. Dewlap drew up at the door of Pottles.
f.n one moment Pottles was at the door of the brougham.
" Mr. Pottles, those peas you sent in yesterdav "—
"Yes, my lady?"—
" They were like bullets. You '11 not contradict it, bullets."
The boldness of the Forty-sixth ! how gloriously rash!
What recklessness of character—what recklessness of cash!
How heedlessly the officers a sacrifice can make
Of fame and money—turning both into a gambler's stake.
'Tis true that England is at war, but who can with her cope
When to the Forty-sixth she points—part of her pride and hope t
No wonder that the world in arms she boastingly defies,
While she upon her "officers and gentlemen" relies.
Let's own that with the Porty-sixth no other can compare ;
That in the British army its qualities are rare;
Upon itself alone, 'tis right, its character should fix ;
Let's strike from out the Army List the number Forty-six.
Physic for the Enemy.
A Contemporary lately stated that the Government has been en-
gaged in trying antimonial balls. It is necessary to observe that the
balls in question were cannon-balls; otherwise it might be surmised
that the War-Office authorities must have made themselves ill. The
advantage of these balls consists in breaking when they strike their
mark, and flying to pieces : thus flinging m all directions lumps of
metal, which, being antimony, are of course calculated to give all within
the sphere of their destructiveness a regular sickener.
An Invariable Pule.—Let the wittiest thing be said in society,
there is sure to be some fool present, who, " for the life of him, cannot
see it."