DOI Heft:
September 11, 1858
DOI Seite / Zitierlink: https://doi.org/10.11588/diglit.16622#0110
September 11, 1858. J
PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.
103
OVERFLOW AT THE SEA-SIDE.
SELKIRK IN TOWN.
UR Sea-side Corre-
spondent writes to us
to say that Ramsgate is
overflowing with visit-
ors. As a proof of this
overflow, he begs us to
direct our eyes of a
morning to the Sands.
From ten till one they
are as crowded as the
Commons on a grand
Disraeli night. A la-
dy's lap-dog could with
difficulty thread its way
through the entangled
maze of chairs. It is an
impenetrable thicket of
legs. Ladies sit there
for hours reading, knit-
ting, starring, chatting,
or dreaming with their
lovely eyes open. i Ia^he ^ .re fthe ™ove>, .
Some walk up and Double guns popping brisk o er the plam ;
down, allowing their Oh, had I the wings of a dove,
back-hair to be dried How soon I d be blazing amam !
by the scorching kis- Thirsufor sport here there s nought to assuage,
' „f iu c11ri Thoir ; But Oremorne s block-tin lions uncouth,
Game less suiting mature middle age,
Than the frivolous folly of youth.
(A Song of September, by a middle-aged Guards
man, picked up in Rotten Row.)
I am monarch of all I survey,
My reign there is none to divide ;
Where the Serpentine's limed waters play,
I am lord of the Ring and the Ride.
Belgravia! where is the charm
The season disclosed in thy face ?
Of detection one lives in alarm,
In September Town's not the right place.
I am out of Society's reach ;
On Pall-Mall's shady side I'm alone!
To the stubbles, the moors, or the beach,
All the people that, know one are flown.
The snobs that in London remain
My face with indifference see,
For one of themselves I am ta'en;
Their coolness is shocking to me !
shoulders are turned,
for the moment, into a
kind of portable drying
Kina or portaoie drying- Every day in the week >s bknk aud co]d>
But I solemnly pledge you my word,
Sunday's something that's not to be fold,
For one out of the common-place herd.
From the hum of the church-going belles,
St. Barnabas' portals are clear ;
And to Liddell's Confessional cells
Draws no fair and frail penitent near.
Others pretend to be deeply absorbed in the last New Novel. Sometimes, they take up
the third volume, and then the first; it seems to be quite immaterial to them, whether the
beautiful heroine is married, or merely undergoing that endless series of cold-blooded per-
secutions that parents in novels are fond of inflicting upon their children, before the
loving dears are allowed to enter that haven of Belgravian bliss, St. George's, Hanover
Square. Sometimes, the book is unconsciously turned upside down, in that respect resem-
nling their sentimental natures, ever since they met that captivating Captain, whose
moustaches fall almost as long as the couple of bell-ropes that hang generally on each side
of the fire-place. In truth they are belle-ropes, at which the girls' hearts keep pulling all
day long, but the Captain, apparently, is not an answerable being, for he does not make his
appearance when summoned, or it may be, that he has just gone round the corner to have
a game of billiards.
The Ramsgate Sands are illustrated novels of themselves ; breathing romances more
crowded with incidents than the miserable ten-volume brochures that were in the habit of
leaping once a week from the thickly-populated inkstand of Alexandre Dumas. The only
authoress qualified to fathom their depth would be, perhaps, George Sand, from whose
works they might be considered an animated extract; or rather, considering the undue
preponderance of Jews and Jewesses, you might call them so many living Coningsbys, full
to repletion as they are of Asiatic Mysteries, by the side of which that greatest of Asiatic
mysteries, the Indian Rebellion, would seem to be the easiest of riddles. However,
numerous the chapters of this large romantic encyclopaedia may be, there is interest to the
end of every one of them. Purple moors—turnip patch—stubble-land;
So dense is the crowd, that it extends to the very edge of the beautiful lace-borders that | In a trice I can fancy I'm there—
the Sea draws on the sand with each new wave it unrolls for inspection. Our Sea-side j But I wake to the organ at hand,
Correspondent comes to the conclusion that there must be a dreadful want of accom- \ Grinding out its perpetual blare,
modation at Ramsgate, or else he is positive, as the bathing takes place on the sands,!
that ladies would never think of going there, if there was any other place within reason- But the day-cabmen stable ward wend,
able distance where they could possibly go. The town is so overflowing, that their mammas 1 From their beats the policemen repair—
and daughters are driven to the sea-shore as _ the only bit of unoccupied ground, and so . E'en September days come to an end,
are compelled to be involuntary spectators of sights that they would much rather not see. I So now for the Club nill-of-fare.
The authorities should devise some measures for preventing the modesty of women from They've the painters in every place,
being shocked in this open manner. But a cutlet, at least, can be got ;
On my hardships I '11 put the best face,
And, Plebeian-like, bear with my lot.
DR. M'HALE'S TALK OF OXEN.
Harsh Col'nel, who made me your sport,
Refusing me leave,—on the score
I'd had too much already ; in short,
That the Horse Guards would stand it no
more—
When you 're up at the moors, will you send
A box or a haunch unto me ?
Let me feel that I still have a friend,
Though from town 1 'm forbidden to flee.
How fleet is the glance of the mind
Compared with the speed of its flight!
The Express-train itself lags behind,
And the Telegraph needle's less light,
Among the many wise things said at the Ballynasloe banquet in honour of Cardinal ANGELS OF LITER ATURE AND ART
Wiseman, the mild and moderate Dr. M'Hale is reported to have made some striking
observations. Having alluded to Ballynasloe as " the centre of that traffic in catt'e which
is now becoming the busiest and most active commerce of the age," John Tuam, as he
styles himself, went on to remark that—
"The rage for cattle feeding seems to threaten us with something like an Egyptian idolatry, where the
worship of Mammon and Serapis seem equally prized."
Angels seem somewhat in vogue just now.
They figure greatly in the picture-shop windows,
under the form of young ladies in white, with
wings like those of a species of bird, which we
may indeed associate with the archangel St.
Michael, on whose anniversary it is eaten with
a condiment of sage and onions. Then a book
has been published under the title of the Angel
As it was after dinner when John Tuam indulged in this flight, and as John is said to have
disapproved of the proceedings of Father Mathew, may not ihe above-quoted nonsense
be ascribed rather to claret, or whiskey, or something of that sort, than to any more serious ,
cause of wildness and irrelevance of speech? The next morning, if John Tuam came to | *» the Souse, which is a title that might be
reflect, he probablv saw cause for rejoicing in the sort of oxen which his countrymen now ; bestowed on a meritorious cook. Another work:
cultivate, instead of limiting themselves to the production of their old Irish bulls. ' is now m course of being advertised bearing
_______ the denomination of the Angel over the Right
Shoulder. The next we shall have will perhaps
House-to-House Visitation.—The Tax-gatherer's. be the Angel over the Left.
PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.
103
OVERFLOW AT THE SEA-SIDE.
SELKIRK IN TOWN.
UR Sea-side Corre-
spondent writes to us
to say that Ramsgate is
overflowing with visit-
ors. As a proof of this
overflow, he begs us to
direct our eyes of a
morning to the Sands.
From ten till one they
are as crowded as the
Commons on a grand
Disraeli night. A la-
dy's lap-dog could with
difficulty thread its way
through the entangled
maze of chairs. It is an
impenetrable thicket of
legs. Ladies sit there
for hours reading, knit-
ting, starring, chatting,
or dreaming with their
lovely eyes open. i Ia^he ^ .re fthe ™ove>, .
Some walk up and Double guns popping brisk o er the plam ;
down, allowing their Oh, had I the wings of a dove,
back-hair to be dried How soon I d be blazing amam !
by the scorching kis- Thirsufor sport here there s nought to assuage,
' „f iu c11ri Thoir ; But Oremorne s block-tin lions uncouth,
Game less suiting mature middle age,
Than the frivolous folly of youth.
(A Song of September, by a middle-aged Guards
man, picked up in Rotten Row.)
I am monarch of all I survey,
My reign there is none to divide ;
Where the Serpentine's limed waters play,
I am lord of the Ring and the Ride.
Belgravia! where is the charm
The season disclosed in thy face ?
Of detection one lives in alarm,
In September Town's not the right place.
I am out of Society's reach ;
On Pall-Mall's shady side I'm alone!
To the stubbles, the moors, or the beach,
All the people that, know one are flown.
The snobs that in London remain
My face with indifference see,
For one of themselves I am ta'en;
Their coolness is shocking to me !
shoulders are turned,
for the moment, into a
kind of portable drying
Kina or portaoie drying- Every day in the week >s bknk aud co]d>
But I solemnly pledge you my word,
Sunday's something that's not to be fold,
For one out of the common-place herd.
From the hum of the church-going belles,
St. Barnabas' portals are clear ;
And to Liddell's Confessional cells
Draws no fair and frail penitent near.
Others pretend to be deeply absorbed in the last New Novel. Sometimes, they take up
the third volume, and then the first; it seems to be quite immaterial to them, whether the
beautiful heroine is married, or merely undergoing that endless series of cold-blooded per-
secutions that parents in novels are fond of inflicting upon their children, before the
loving dears are allowed to enter that haven of Belgravian bliss, St. George's, Hanover
Square. Sometimes, the book is unconsciously turned upside down, in that respect resem-
nling their sentimental natures, ever since they met that captivating Captain, whose
moustaches fall almost as long as the couple of bell-ropes that hang generally on each side
of the fire-place. In truth they are belle-ropes, at which the girls' hearts keep pulling all
day long, but the Captain, apparently, is not an answerable being, for he does not make his
appearance when summoned, or it may be, that he has just gone round the corner to have
a game of billiards.
The Ramsgate Sands are illustrated novels of themselves ; breathing romances more
crowded with incidents than the miserable ten-volume brochures that were in the habit of
leaping once a week from the thickly-populated inkstand of Alexandre Dumas. The only
authoress qualified to fathom their depth would be, perhaps, George Sand, from whose
works they might be considered an animated extract; or rather, considering the undue
preponderance of Jews and Jewesses, you might call them so many living Coningsbys, full
to repletion as they are of Asiatic Mysteries, by the side of which that greatest of Asiatic
mysteries, the Indian Rebellion, would seem to be the easiest of riddles. However,
numerous the chapters of this large romantic encyclopaedia may be, there is interest to the
end of every one of them. Purple moors—turnip patch—stubble-land;
So dense is the crowd, that it extends to the very edge of the beautiful lace-borders that | In a trice I can fancy I'm there—
the Sea draws on the sand with each new wave it unrolls for inspection. Our Sea-side j But I wake to the organ at hand,
Correspondent comes to the conclusion that there must be a dreadful want of accom- \ Grinding out its perpetual blare,
modation at Ramsgate, or else he is positive, as the bathing takes place on the sands,!
that ladies would never think of going there, if there was any other place within reason- But the day-cabmen stable ward wend,
able distance where they could possibly go. The town is so overflowing, that their mammas 1 From their beats the policemen repair—
and daughters are driven to the sea-shore as _ the only bit of unoccupied ground, and so . E'en September days come to an end,
are compelled to be involuntary spectators of sights that they would much rather not see. I So now for the Club nill-of-fare.
The authorities should devise some measures for preventing the modesty of women from They've the painters in every place,
being shocked in this open manner. But a cutlet, at least, can be got ;
On my hardships I '11 put the best face,
And, Plebeian-like, bear with my lot.
DR. M'HALE'S TALK OF OXEN.
Harsh Col'nel, who made me your sport,
Refusing me leave,—on the score
I'd had too much already ; in short,
That the Horse Guards would stand it no
more—
When you 're up at the moors, will you send
A box or a haunch unto me ?
Let me feel that I still have a friend,
Though from town 1 'm forbidden to flee.
How fleet is the glance of the mind
Compared with the speed of its flight!
The Express-train itself lags behind,
And the Telegraph needle's less light,
Among the many wise things said at the Ballynasloe banquet in honour of Cardinal ANGELS OF LITER ATURE AND ART
Wiseman, the mild and moderate Dr. M'Hale is reported to have made some striking
observations. Having alluded to Ballynasloe as " the centre of that traffic in catt'e which
is now becoming the busiest and most active commerce of the age," John Tuam, as he
styles himself, went on to remark that—
"The rage for cattle feeding seems to threaten us with something like an Egyptian idolatry, where the
worship of Mammon and Serapis seem equally prized."
Angels seem somewhat in vogue just now.
They figure greatly in the picture-shop windows,
under the form of young ladies in white, with
wings like those of a species of bird, which we
may indeed associate with the archangel St.
Michael, on whose anniversary it is eaten with
a condiment of sage and onions. Then a book
has been published under the title of the Angel
As it was after dinner when John Tuam indulged in this flight, and as John is said to have
disapproved of the proceedings of Father Mathew, may not ihe above-quoted nonsense
be ascribed rather to claret, or whiskey, or something of that sort, than to any more serious ,
cause of wildness and irrelevance of speech? The next morning, if John Tuam came to | *» the Souse, which is a title that might be
reflect, he probablv saw cause for rejoicing in the sort of oxen which his countrymen now ; bestowed on a meritorious cook. Another work:
cultivate, instead of limiting themselves to the production of their old Irish bulls. ' is now m course of being advertised bearing
_______ the denomination of the Angel over the Right
Shoulder. The next we shall have will perhaps
House-to-House Visitation.—The Tax-gatherer's. be the Angel over the Left.