DOI issue:
October 13, 1855
DOI Page / Citation link:https://doi.org/10.11588/diglit.16616#0155
October 13, 1855.]
PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.
143
Charles. " Figurf, indeed ! What's a Fellow to do ? A Man must wear
something. BaTS and coats ake out of the question—they are really so
■very Effeminate."
THE TEETOTAL TOAST-BOOK.
Though there is nothing very jovial in the idea of totai
abstinence, and it is difficult to get much jollity out of a
pump, we do not see why the Teetotallers should not adopt
the practice of giving " sentiments " when they drink, and
thus realising the popular combination of Toast-and-Water,
We subjoin a few specimens, which will be found suitable
to those aqueous associations, whose members seem to look
upon the garden-engine as the only really moral engine, and
the water-cart as the only vehicle of progress.
A light heart and a heavy water-jug.
May ewers always be mine, and ours be ewers.
May the pump always give us its succour.
May the pitcher of strength never want the water of
purity.
The noblest works of man—the water-works.
The pump—the only true source of legitimate liquid.
May sorrow find a watery grave.
& fig for my friend, and a pond for my pitcher.
Confusion to the donkey who stops up (by getting his
foot into) the plug-hole.
A full water-bottle and nobody to partake of it.
May the good ship Britannia draw plenty of water.
My friend and filter.
May every pipe be put out, except the water-pipe.
The best of all Unions—the grand junction.
Water—an excellent fellow in the main.
May confidence always break the ice, and friendship drink
the water.
May the tear of sorrow from the cistern of the heart be
purified by the filter of affliction, and join the waters of
oblivion.
The prudent housewife, who keeps a full washing-tub,
and is never without floating capital.
May the sackbutt always get the sack, and all other
butts but the water-butt.
The brightest diamonds are those of the purest
water.
May the hand of friendship be extended to every pump
that needs it.
Here's to him who is always doing his fellow creatures
a good turn—the turncock.
Confusion to the pride, that would keep its head above
water.
JONES BAYS THE "MOON."
One Jones, at the election of the new Lord Mayor—(and the Lord
Mayor's Dinner is now become removable into a Jewish Feast)—
opposed the resolution of thanks to Lord Mayor Moon, inasmuch as
he " had not sufficiently encouraged Art and Science by inviting
members of the various City Guilds to partake of the hospitalities of the
Mansion House." This is, no doubt, a serious charge: heavy as the
Ma ior's mace: but, tell us, Jones,—where are Art and Science in
civic guilds ? Where do they, unlike the noses of the liverymen, blush
unseen—where, unlike the turtle, do they waste their sweetness ? Is
there a Chantrey among the Spectacle-makers, a Clarkson Stanfield
in the body of tire Fishmongers ? Does another author of another Cal-
culating-Machine glorify the Goldsmiths? The Art and Science of
the City Guilds might have been very effectively represented by Gog
and Magog; but then, in defence of Lord Mayor Moon, it must be
confessed, they are somewhat above the ordinary dimensions of the
most elevated diners-out; whilst, as they have not been provided
with hinges, they could have hardly stretched their legs under the
civic mahogany.
We think One Jokes has with the very worst grace bayed our Moon.
We firmly believe, that when the eventful civic year of 1854-5 shall be
written in a pomp and manner worthy of its events, that the mayoralty
of Moon will shine like his gold plate, will abeund with cordial sweet-
ness, like his own loving-cup. The greater, too, is the credit of Moon :
inasmuch as though it was his fortune to cross twice to Paris, and
twice to come within the cold, shady influence of Lord Cowley, our
English Ambassador who keeps continual fast in the Rue St. Honore,
—his Lordship each time returned to town as genial and as ripe as ever;
even riper, like a travelled pine-apple.
Having alluded to Lord Cowley, it will be only humane in Mr. Punch
to warn his fellow-countrymen against the savageness of a French
mastiff, who, in his Lordship's service, receives passports from timid
travellers, to be vised, &c. &c. We have heard that there are no less
than six Englishmen at the present hour lamed for life, having been
Wantonly bitten in the calf of the leg by the mastiff aforesaid. Lord
Cowley, with only £8,000 a-year, and no dinners to give, may not be
able to afford to keep a gentleman to do the passport duty of his office ;
but, at least, he might employ a well-mannered Christian. Or at the
worst, if his Lordship will not, or cannot part with his present growling,
snarling official, he might humanely cause something like the following
notice to be painted up in the office below.—" Persons coming here on
business are requested to beware of the dog."
UN-FASHIONABLE MOVEMENTS IN BRIGHTON.
Mr. and Mrs. Jones and family have left the Bedford Hotel—at
the door of which they stopped to inquire the prices—and then pro-
ceeded in the direction of the Railway.
Mrs. Popplekxns has not quitted her apartment in Brunswick
Terrace. She has torn up the notice to quit; and tells the landlord to
" do his best and do his worst."
The Marquis Poliglotto, a Polish nobleman, has visited several of
the tradesmen of the town, to whom he has given large orders, none
of which are likely to be executed.
Mr. and Mrs. Roley Poley have taken the whole of the buck por-
tion of the third-floor of a house in the neighbourhood of Regency
Square. Their stay will be limited.
Captain Famish dined in the coffee-room at Peggs' ol Tuesday last,
audlett unperceived by the waiter. The Captain is not expected to
return.
The Reverend and dis-Honourable Arthur Swindell has left his
lodgings on the Terrace. From the contents of his portmanteau, which
have been inspected by the landlord, the dis-Honourable apd Reverend
gentleman would seem to have been engaged in archaeological pursuits,
for his luggage consists entirely of bricks.
Eccentric Orthography.
Archdeacon Hale, writing on the philosophy of the dead body,
with an instinctive regard to burial profits, can spell philosophy in no
other way than—" fee-losophy."
PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.
143
Charles. " Figurf, indeed ! What's a Fellow to do ? A Man must wear
something. BaTS and coats ake out of the question—they are really so
■very Effeminate."
THE TEETOTAL TOAST-BOOK.
Though there is nothing very jovial in the idea of totai
abstinence, and it is difficult to get much jollity out of a
pump, we do not see why the Teetotallers should not adopt
the practice of giving " sentiments " when they drink, and
thus realising the popular combination of Toast-and-Water,
We subjoin a few specimens, which will be found suitable
to those aqueous associations, whose members seem to look
upon the garden-engine as the only really moral engine, and
the water-cart as the only vehicle of progress.
A light heart and a heavy water-jug.
May ewers always be mine, and ours be ewers.
May the pump always give us its succour.
May the pitcher of strength never want the water of
purity.
The noblest works of man—the water-works.
The pump—the only true source of legitimate liquid.
May sorrow find a watery grave.
& fig for my friend, and a pond for my pitcher.
Confusion to the donkey who stops up (by getting his
foot into) the plug-hole.
A full water-bottle and nobody to partake of it.
May the good ship Britannia draw plenty of water.
My friend and filter.
May every pipe be put out, except the water-pipe.
The best of all Unions—the grand junction.
Water—an excellent fellow in the main.
May confidence always break the ice, and friendship drink
the water.
May the tear of sorrow from the cistern of the heart be
purified by the filter of affliction, and join the waters of
oblivion.
The prudent housewife, who keeps a full washing-tub,
and is never without floating capital.
May the sackbutt always get the sack, and all other
butts but the water-butt.
The brightest diamonds are those of the purest
water.
May the hand of friendship be extended to every pump
that needs it.
Here's to him who is always doing his fellow creatures
a good turn—the turncock.
Confusion to the pride, that would keep its head above
water.
JONES BAYS THE "MOON."
One Jones, at the election of the new Lord Mayor—(and the Lord
Mayor's Dinner is now become removable into a Jewish Feast)—
opposed the resolution of thanks to Lord Mayor Moon, inasmuch as
he " had not sufficiently encouraged Art and Science by inviting
members of the various City Guilds to partake of the hospitalities of the
Mansion House." This is, no doubt, a serious charge: heavy as the
Ma ior's mace: but, tell us, Jones,—where are Art and Science in
civic guilds ? Where do they, unlike the noses of the liverymen, blush
unseen—where, unlike the turtle, do they waste their sweetness ? Is
there a Chantrey among the Spectacle-makers, a Clarkson Stanfield
in the body of tire Fishmongers ? Does another author of another Cal-
culating-Machine glorify the Goldsmiths? The Art and Science of
the City Guilds might have been very effectively represented by Gog
and Magog; but then, in defence of Lord Mayor Moon, it must be
confessed, they are somewhat above the ordinary dimensions of the
most elevated diners-out; whilst, as they have not been provided
with hinges, they could have hardly stretched their legs under the
civic mahogany.
We think One Jokes has with the very worst grace bayed our Moon.
We firmly believe, that when the eventful civic year of 1854-5 shall be
written in a pomp and manner worthy of its events, that the mayoralty
of Moon will shine like his gold plate, will abeund with cordial sweet-
ness, like his own loving-cup. The greater, too, is the credit of Moon :
inasmuch as though it was his fortune to cross twice to Paris, and
twice to come within the cold, shady influence of Lord Cowley, our
English Ambassador who keeps continual fast in the Rue St. Honore,
—his Lordship each time returned to town as genial and as ripe as ever;
even riper, like a travelled pine-apple.
Having alluded to Lord Cowley, it will be only humane in Mr. Punch
to warn his fellow-countrymen against the savageness of a French
mastiff, who, in his Lordship's service, receives passports from timid
travellers, to be vised, &c. &c. We have heard that there are no less
than six Englishmen at the present hour lamed for life, having been
Wantonly bitten in the calf of the leg by the mastiff aforesaid. Lord
Cowley, with only £8,000 a-year, and no dinners to give, may not be
able to afford to keep a gentleman to do the passport duty of his office ;
but, at least, he might employ a well-mannered Christian. Or at the
worst, if his Lordship will not, or cannot part with his present growling,
snarling official, he might humanely cause something like the following
notice to be painted up in the office below.—" Persons coming here on
business are requested to beware of the dog."
UN-FASHIONABLE MOVEMENTS IN BRIGHTON.
Mr. and Mrs. Jones and family have left the Bedford Hotel—at
the door of which they stopped to inquire the prices—and then pro-
ceeded in the direction of the Railway.
Mrs. Popplekxns has not quitted her apartment in Brunswick
Terrace. She has torn up the notice to quit; and tells the landlord to
" do his best and do his worst."
The Marquis Poliglotto, a Polish nobleman, has visited several of
the tradesmen of the town, to whom he has given large orders, none
of which are likely to be executed.
Mr. and Mrs. Roley Poley have taken the whole of the buck por-
tion of the third-floor of a house in the neighbourhood of Regency
Square. Their stay will be limited.
Captain Famish dined in the coffee-room at Peggs' ol Tuesday last,
audlett unperceived by the waiter. The Captain is not expected to
return.
The Reverend and dis-Honourable Arthur Swindell has left his
lodgings on the Terrace. From the contents of his portmanteau, which
have been inspected by the landlord, the dis-Honourable apd Reverend
gentleman would seem to have been engaged in archaeological pursuits,
for his luggage consists entirely of bricks.
Eccentric Orthography.
Archdeacon Hale, writing on the philosophy of the dead body,
with an instinctive regard to burial profits, can spell philosophy in no
other way than—" fee-losophy."