Punch (35.1858)

December 26, 1858

PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.

253

IF THIS SHOULD MEET HIS EYE."

b. Punch, What has become
of Christmas?—Old Father
Christmas, as poets and
song-writers delight to call
him. ' He has gone from

^——..... our gaze,' eh ?

/ -X ' " Of course I don't mean
4 $w to ask what has become of
Jt r L. the days between Christ-
cto^ fTjP' < mas Eve and Twelfth Day.
nWi' . -iy-^Jj They are still in the Al-
'l [1$^rt\ ' manack, and will, no doubt,
1. ^ ft ^] be here in proper time.

^j-i / What I do want to know
is, where is the jolly, hearty
Christmas time that you
and I, Mr. Punch, remember
in our younger days?

"The numberless ad-
vertisements of illustrated
books, the Christmas num-
bers of all the periodicals
(rather a generic sameness
I observe in these), and fat
cattle week, already past
and gone, remind us that
Christmas time is at hand.
Also, the unpleasantly fat,
and yellow joints garnished
with brave ribbons and bits
of holly in the butchers' shops; the approaching completion of goose clubs, as advertised in
the window of the ' Silver Fork and Nutmeg-grater,' at the corner of our street; the adver-
tisements of Christmas hampers in the newspapers ; and the appearance of your own
brilliant Almanack, are all signs of the times.

" But still, all seems changed, and I really don't recognise the season at all.
" The Waits for instance. There are no Waits now. Stop a bit, Mr. Paterfamilias,
scowling and groaning at the remembrance of your lost sleep ; I mean it, though in a
different sense to what you suppose. Formerly, the Waits used to be tit.her a band of indi-
viduals with voices more or less bad, who used to sing a good old carol or quaint chorus
outside your window, and their melodious notes rarely, if ever, woke you; if you happened to
be awake, indeed, when they commenced, you were usually lulled to sleep very shortly.
Or else the Waits consisted of a couple of old fellows with a fiddle and a harp, who made
very little noise, and what there was was not very unpleasant. What is the case now ?
Several sturdy, and generally intoxicated, parties, with great power of lung, blow Verdi and
other noisy composers at you in the dead of night out of fearful and incomprehensible brazen
machines. Tou are sure to wake up, and as sure to be kept awake for a considerable time
and at a considerable sacrifice of temper.

" Christmas-boxes, too, have quite degenerated. The bestowal of this, at any time exceed-
ingly unnecessary baksheesh, has become merely a system of plunder. Everybody who wants
anything proceeds to levy unmerciful black mail on every unfortunate householder; and, in
fact, Boxing Day is for Paterfamilias one of the most terrible instruments of torture
ever invented. Your servants, your clerks, your scavenger, your literary dustman, your
butcher, your baker, your candlestick maker, all imagine they have a claim upon you; and
if half-crowns do not flow like water, you are denounced as a humbug and a surly miser, and
probably get even more swindled and cheated throughout the year than usual.

" The Theatres, too, are showing dreadfully revolutionary tendencies with respect to Boxing
Day, and though there is still one good point about them,—pantomime still holding its own,
—several managers, oblivious of their evident duty, have taken to deprive Boxing Day of
its only redeeming point by producing their Christmas pieces on Christmas Eve, or even
earlier. Evil befall the manager who first introduced this horrid idea ! may his traps all
hang fire, and his transformation scene fail! Then, again, even pantomime is not pantomime
now. Duplicate clowns, allegorical openings., and the 'comic business' sacrificed for the sake
of the scenery of the opening, are the order of the day; and most pantomimes are rendered
entirely distasteful to the juvenile public by the introduction of fearful bits of school books
instead of the jolly old nonsense which used to be the delight of our childish years.

"As for Christmas festivities, where are they? Where are all the good old games ? They
have disappeared. You can't play Snapdragon for fear of the ladies' dresses; Blindman's Buff
is scorned by the children of the present day, who vote Hunt the Slipper slow, and ' Post'
stupid. In their place is the microscope, the moral magic lantern, with the Pilgrim's Progress
instead of Mother Hubbard, and a magnified drop of water instead of the Old Man and his
Donkey. No doubt it is all right, but still, I for one must own to very much regretting the
old sports and pastimes; and, indeed, I have observed most children yawning frightfully
under the influence of these latter amusements. As for the mistletoe, I know what Mrs.
Jones said to my nephew, on the occasion of that youth's embracing his cousin Sophy
under the branch in the hall, last Christmas Day. In fact, she insists upon it that not a
morsel of the horrid, vulgar thing shall be allowed to enter our house next week, and I am
afraid that she will carry her point, as usual.

" The weather, again. We know pretty well what that has been lately in Christmas
week—warm, muggy, greasy, dirty, unpleasant; sore-throat-provoking fogs have held almost
undisputed sway, and even if a little frost has appeared before Christmas, it has speedily
vanished and remained in hiding until about March, when skating (if it is a severe winter)
occasionally takes place, I believe.

" In fact, Mr. Punch, I want to know where
he is, and if this should meet his eye he will
hear of an individual who will be delighted to
renew acquaintance with him by applying to

"Crusty Grumbler."
"The Growlery, Grvfton"

MILK AT THE DOOR.

Two little boys were charged at the West-
minster Police Court, the other day, with steal-
ing milk, when an interesting conversation took
place between Mr. Arnold, the magistrate, and
Mr. Scott, dairyman in large business, about the
milk-carriers' practice of leaving their cans of
milk exposed at customers' house-doors. House-
keepers, on reading the report of the case, may,
some of them, have learned for the first time
that their milk, being brought in the morning
before their servants are up, is deposited upon
their door-steps, and, until John Thomas or
Mary comes down and takes it in, remains
there.

The milk-can, standing at the street-door half
an hour or so, offers, during that time, a strong
temptation to the passing boys, of whom, at
least one will, in all probability, take a swig at
it. If the boy prefers mischief to milk, he can
add a variety of unpleasant things to the con-
tents of the can. Thus, even if the milk is left
unadulterated at the door, it is not certain ,to
come pure to the table.

The milk-can, standing at the street-door, is
exposed not only to the boys, but also to the
dogs.

It is hoped that these observations may have
the effect of checking the practice of leaving
milk-cans at street-doors.

SPANISH BONDS OF FRIENDSHIP.

The respectable Queen of Spain, on opening
her Legislative Chambers, delivered a speech,
whereof the following is a portion:—

" i have the satisfaction to announce to you, Ithat our
relations with frienaly powers are at this moment most
cordial and sincere."

Humph ! What may be the number of those
friendly powers, please your Majesty ? .Our
relations with friendly powers might be most
cordial and sincere, and yet we might have
only two friendly powers in the world. Your
Majesty's satisfaction on that point is not quite
as satisfactory perhaps to your loyal Chamber as
the gentlemen who worded it for your Majesty's
utterance may have expected it to prove.

Your Majesty's friendly powers would be ren-
dered more numerous by the punctual payment
in full of interest on certain Spanish bonds about
which the speech of your Majesty contains no-
thing. Short accounts make long friends; but
long unsettled accounts are not productive of the
most cordial and sincere relations of friendship.

A New Historical Parallel.

John Bright insists on John Bull accepting
American election machinery, because he admires
and subscribes to our friend the American horse-
tamer. The analogy of horse-taming and election-
eering never struck us before. But it holds good
in more ways than one. Both arts, it is obvious,
depend much on a judicious combination of "gent-
ling " and " the whip;" and both have for their
object the making their subjects easy to lead,
docile to drive, and tractable to bring to the
poll. How, if Rarey was but a political agent
rn disguise, and his subjugation of Cruiser in the
stable at Dorchester an English version of
President Buchanan's flooring of our Cruisers
in the Gulf of Mexico ?