Punch (37.1859)

PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.

[September 24, 1859.

Whipper. “ Dooced nice place, this—only one can’t speak to a Gal •without it’s being reported you ’re engaged to her.”'
Snapper. “ Hah ! I took the precaution to give out when I first came that I wasn’t a Marryin’ Man ! ”

Where next the boy may go to swell the farrago,

We haven’t yet heard, but the Palace they’re plotting in :

To Berlin, Jena, Bonn, he’ll no doubt be passed on,.

And drop in, for a finishing touch, p’raps, at Gottingen.

:

’Gainst indulging the passion for this high-pressure fashion
Of Prince-training, Punch would uplift loyal warning;

Locomotives we see, over-stoked soon may be,

Till the supersteamed boiler blows up some fine morning.

The Great Pastern's disaster should teach us to master
Our passion for pace, lest the mind’s water-jacket
—Steam for exit fierce panting, and safety-valves wanting—

Should explode round the brain, of a sudden, and crack it.

LIPE IS A MYSTERY.

Tiie following is beyond all number the most extraordinary pheno-
menon we ever read:—Six ladies were enjoying themselves over the
tea-table at Rotherham, and, by way of amusement, they. began con-
fiding to each other in secret how old they were; and it was found
that their united ages amounted to one hundred and twenty-five years.
The. most singular thing, however, is, that the daughters of these six
ladies—and each lady had one—were in the next room, trying over the
last new Polka; and, upon calculating their united ages, the. result
revealed the astounding fact that, though not yet married, still they 1
were older than their Mammas by seven years, eleven months, and
fourteen days! The mystery is still unexplained; and. yet we should
be loth to accuse the young ladies, for the purpose of gaining a victory
of no moment whatever, of having made themselves out to be older
than they really were.

One-Sided Constructions.

Many of us, too many of us, are apt to attribute a bad motive to a
good action ; but few of us, when a poor devil has been guilty of a baa
action, ever think of attributing a good motive to it.

A PRINCE AT HIGH PRESSURE.

hou dear little Wales —
sure the saddest of tales,
Is the tale of the studies
with which they are cram-
ming thee;

In thy tuckers and bibs,
handed over to Gibbs,
Who for eight years with
solid instruction was
ramming thee.

Then, to fill any nook Gibbs
had chanced to o’erlook,
In those poor little brains,
sick of learned palaver,
When thou ’dst fain rolled
in clover, they handed
thee over,

To the prim pedagogic pro-
tection of Tarver.

In Edinburgh next, thy
poor noddle perplext,
The gauntlet must run of
each science and study;
Till the mixed streams of knowledge, turned on by the College,
Through the field of thy boy-brains run shallow and muddy.

To the South from the North—from the shores of the Porth,

Where at hands Presbyterian pure science is quaffed—

The Prince, in a trice, is whipped off to the Isis,

Where Oxford keeps springs mediaeval on draught.

Dipped in grey Oxford mixture [lest that prove a fixture),

The poor lad’s. to be plunged in less orthodox Cam :

Where dynamics and statics, and pure mathematics.

Will be piled on his brain’s awful cargo of “ cram.”