DOI issue:
October 13, 1855
DOI Page / Citation link:https://doi.org/10.11588/diglit.16616#0158
146
PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHATHVAiU
[October 13, 1855.
PLEASANT !
Affectionate little Wife {who lias made many abortive attempts to fathom the secrets
of Free-masonry). "Well, but, dear! Tell me one thing. Do they pdt you
into a Coffin ?"
THE CZARINA TO HER MATE.
My own sweet Czar, dear Emperor of my soul,
Thy purple's hem m earnestness I twitch,
Let me not vainly thime Imperial stole
Tug, my beloved Nicolaewitch.
No further let this horrid war proceed,
Stop it; it is too dreadful: 'tis indeed
Have pity on your subjects—those poor thing?—
Although, of course, they all were made for you.
Yet they are men—and women—and it wrings
My heart to think upon what they go through:
The agony, the grief, the monstrous loss
Of life—for that pretence about the Cross.
The Cross ! My dear, you know, as well as I,
The Cross suffices to defend its own;
And dare we hold it forth to screen a lie ?
For aggrandisement only and alone
We've drawn the sword. How awful that to do,
Dearest, if what the Cross means is all true !
What can you hops to get by going on ?
You see, the stake for which you play'd is lost,
My dear, you know Sebastopol is gone;
The Black Sea Fleet, too. Would it had nt'er crosfc
That, plaguy Euxine on that horrid day,
To do that slaughter in Sinope's Bay !
Fortune declares for England and for France ;
Leave off at present, saving all you can ;
Another day you '11 have a better chance ;
Wait- that, and bide your time, there's a dear man.
Run not the risk of having to resign
The power which you enjoy through friends of mine.
'Tis you, my Czarrems, only, who maintain
My dear relations on their German thrones.
To tight the French and English if you drain
Your armies, and exhaust your means by 1. an?,
How will you get the bayonets and gold
Vv7hicb, solely, their viceroyalties npuokl?
Them should their discontented subjects send
About their business as tbey would, no doubt,
In Europe we should not possess one triend.
Bomb a will soon go to the right about:
And you, my love—1 shudder !—who knows where ?
Grant, then, Maria Alexandrowna's prayer.
IF WOMEN BET, WHAT DO THEY BET?
ome men, when they lose
wagers, pay in hats. We
do not know whether la-
dies ever wager together,
or what the nature of their
wagers may be, but you
may be sure they are not
bonnets, simply because
ladies would derive no
pleasure whatever in win-
ning bonnets from one
another. A wager, so
won, would destroy the
amusement a lady always
has in getting a new bon-
net out of her husband,
and would take away most
materially from the enjoy-
ment of that husband's
vociety whenever he had
bjen persuaded to leave
the City a trifle earlier,
"just to take a stroll be-
fore dinner with his dear
little wifey."
It is about the rarest thing in the world, when a wife is favoured, in
public, with her husband's company, and it would be too bad to deprive
that rarity of one-half its charm by attempting to strip it of its prin-
cipal attraction. An afternoon's walk down Bond Street, or a quiet
saunter whilst dinner is getting ready through the Rue de la Paix,
would be dull, indeed, even in the very finest weather, unless there was
the incentive of a bright new bonnet glittering in the distance. It is
the belief of some, that a woman would lose her head sooner than part
with her bonnet! But still the question remains unanswered, " Do
ladies bet ? and what is the nature of their bets ? " The latter may
be (for what we know) gloves, or bottles of Eau-de-Cologne, or packets
of pearl-powder, or boxes of bonbons, or pots of pomatum, or night-
caps ; but we strongly suspect they are cups of tea. This is, of course,
only amongst themselves, for with all wagers entered into with gentle-
men, no lady would ever think of demeaning herself by paying her
losses. A bet with a lady is only valid so long as she wins.
We confess the question, even now, remains involved in the greatest
obscurity, and wTe hope the British Association will take it into
consideration at their next meeting. In the meantime, we think it is
satisfactorily proved that, if ladies do indulge in bets, at all events
they never stake bonnets on the issue, as gentlemen stake hats. Just
as if a bonnet w as not by far too important a thing to be left to the
caprice of a wager! And, besides, where is the lady who would trust
another lady to choose a bonnet for her? or care about choosing a
bonnet at any other shop than her own?
THE LITERARY LANGUAGE OF FLOWERS.
Somebody has published a book, under the quaint title of An Hour
with the Hollyhock. We confess we have not much curiosity to read
the work, for we cannot see how sixty minutes, spent in the company
of a rather vulgar-looking plant, can afford matter of either an amusing
or instructive character. We would much rather have Mve Minutes
with a Pine-apple, or even A Moment with a Peach, or A Quarter of an
Hour with a few Apricots. The language of flowers is all very well;
but we do not believe the biggest hollyhock, or the downiest of
daffodils can have anything to say for itself that would justify any
reasonable hemg in giving up even half an hour to its society. An
Hour with the Hollyhock appears to us, therefore, to promise nothing but
the details of a very dull and unsatisfactory interview. We should have
preferred A Minute with the Mig?ionette, or Six Seconds with the Seringa,
or even—though the experience of such things at an evening party is
not very promising—A Quarter of An Hour among the Wallflowers.
PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHATHVAiU
[October 13, 1855.
PLEASANT !
Affectionate little Wife {who lias made many abortive attempts to fathom the secrets
of Free-masonry). "Well, but, dear! Tell me one thing. Do they pdt you
into a Coffin ?"
THE CZARINA TO HER MATE.
My own sweet Czar, dear Emperor of my soul,
Thy purple's hem m earnestness I twitch,
Let me not vainly thime Imperial stole
Tug, my beloved Nicolaewitch.
No further let this horrid war proceed,
Stop it; it is too dreadful: 'tis indeed
Have pity on your subjects—those poor thing?—
Although, of course, they all were made for you.
Yet they are men—and women—and it wrings
My heart to think upon what they go through:
The agony, the grief, the monstrous loss
Of life—for that pretence about the Cross.
The Cross ! My dear, you know, as well as I,
The Cross suffices to defend its own;
And dare we hold it forth to screen a lie ?
For aggrandisement only and alone
We've drawn the sword. How awful that to do,
Dearest, if what the Cross means is all true !
What can you hops to get by going on ?
You see, the stake for which you play'd is lost,
My dear, you know Sebastopol is gone;
The Black Sea Fleet, too. Would it had nt'er crosfc
That, plaguy Euxine on that horrid day,
To do that slaughter in Sinope's Bay !
Fortune declares for England and for France ;
Leave off at present, saving all you can ;
Another day you '11 have a better chance ;
Wait- that, and bide your time, there's a dear man.
Run not the risk of having to resign
The power which you enjoy through friends of mine.
'Tis you, my Czarrems, only, who maintain
My dear relations on their German thrones.
To tight the French and English if you drain
Your armies, and exhaust your means by 1. an?,
How will you get the bayonets and gold
Vv7hicb, solely, their viceroyalties npuokl?
Them should their discontented subjects send
About their business as tbey would, no doubt,
In Europe we should not possess one triend.
Bomb a will soon go to the right about:
And you, my love—1 shudder !—who knows where ?
Grant, then, Maria Alexandrowna's prayer.
IF WOMEN BET, WHAT DO THEY BET?
ome men, when they lose
wagers, pay in hats. We
do not know whether la-
dies ever wager together,
or what the nature of their
wagers may be, but you
may be sure they are not
bonnets, simply because
ladies would derive no
pleasure whatever in win-
ning bonnets from one
another. A wager, so
won, would destroy the
amusement a lady always
has in getting a new bon-
net out of her husband,
and would take away most
materially from the enjoy-
ment of that husband's
vociety whenever he had
bjen persuaded to leave
the City a trifle earlier,
"just to take a stroll be-
fore dinner with his dear
little wifey."
It is about the rarest thing in the world, when a wife is favoured, in
public, with her husband's company, and it would be too bad to deprive
that rarity of one-half its charm by attempting to strip it of its prin-
cipal attraction. An afternoon's walk down Bond Street, or a quiet
saunter whilst dinner is getting ready through the Rue de la Paix,
would be dull, indeed, even in the very finest weather, unless there was
the incentive of a bright new bonnet glittering in the distance. It is
the belief of some, that a woman would lose her head sooner than part
with her bonnet! But still the question remains unanswered, " Do
ladies bet ? and what is the nature of their bets ? " The latter may
be (for what we know) gloves, or bottles of Eau-de-Cologne, or packets
of pearl-powder, or boxes of bonbons, or pots of pomatum, or night-
caps ; but we strongly suspect they are cups of tea. This is, of course,
only amongst themselves, for with all wagers entered into with gentle-
men, no lady would ever think of demeaning herself by paying her
losses. A bet with a lady is only valid so long as she wins.
We confess the question, even now, remains involved in the greatest
obscurity, and wTe hope the British Association will take it into
consideration at their next meeting. In the meantime, we think it is
satisfactorily proved that, if ladies do indulge in bets, at all events
they never stake bonnets on the issue, as gentlemen stake hats. Just
as if a bonnet w as not by far too important a thing to be left to the
caprice of a wager! And, besides, where is the lady who would trust
another lady to choose a bonnet for her? or care about choosing a
bonnet at any other shop than her own?
THE LITERARY LANGUAGE OF FLOWERS.
Somebody has published a book, under the quaint title of An Hour
with the Hollyhock. We confess we have not much curiosity to read
the work, for we cannot see how sixty minutes, spent in the company
of a rather vulgar-looking plant, can afford matter of either an amusing
or instructive character. We would much rather have Mve Minutes
with a Pine-apple, or even A Moment with a Peach, or A Quarter of an
Hour with a few Apricots. The language of flowers is all very well;
but we do not believe the biggest hollyhock, or the downiest of
daffodils can have anything to say for itself that would justify any
reasonable hemg in giving up even half an hour to its society. An
Hour with the Hollyhock appears to us, therefore, to promise nothing but
the details of a very dull and unsatisfactory interview. We should have
preferred A Minute with the Mig?ionette, or Six Seconds with the Seringa,
or even—though the experience of such things at an evening party is
not very promising—A Quarter of An Hour among the Wallflowers.