Punch: Punch (40.1861)

JiWis 1, i.861.]

PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.

219

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ONE TOUCH OF NATURE,” &c., &c.

Milkman. “ Oh, Sir, my Hartist as paints for me wished me to ask you if you'd make one

o' Four in a Fee-aton to the Darby."

THE LISPING TRIBES.

At the last meeting of the Ethnological Society, after a paper about the natives of Western
Equatorial Africa had been read by M. Du Chaillu, the mighty hunter of gorillas, between
whom and some of their human neighbours the principal distinction seems to consist in the
circumstance that the latter are cannibals, there ensued a discussion, in the course whereof
the Chairman, Ms. Crawfusd, “ in reference to the inability of the Bakalai tribe to pro-
nounce the letter ‘r,* which they sound like an‘1, * observed that the Chinese have the
same defective utterance, which excites a disgusting feeling when they speak of eating rice.”
The Chinese, in fact, when they attempt to say “ rice,” lisp, and at the same time appear to
speak disagreeably plain. When we consider how large a number of youthful swells, of the
most tumefied immensity, partake in the inability of the Bakalais and the Chinese to pro-
nounce the letter “r,” we cannot but rejoice to think that they do not mispronounce that
consonant in the same dreadful manner as those barbarians; so that, although they cannot
say “rice” like ordinary Englishmen, they do not turn that word into the one whereinto

it is transformed by Chinamen; but make
nothing worse of it than “ wice,” which is mere
nonsense, and disgusting only inasmuch as it is
the utterance of imbecility.

CLOSE’S GUSH OF GRATITUDE.

N.B. The following poem has been sent to
Mr. Punch with the statement that it is the
thank-offering of Mr. Close to Lord Palmer-
ston for the £50 per annum. Mr. Punch doubts
its genuineness, from its being so very much
better than anything Mr. Close has yet pub-
lished, but it is otherwise much in that poet’s
way:—

For this kind pension thou hast gave.

All thanks to thee, great Pam,

I am your most obedient slave.

Upon my soul I am.

I sang the praise of Bonny’s King,
Benighted Afric’s chief;

But if you like 1 ’ll change my strain,

And call that black a thief.

What, fifty pounds a year for me.

That’s nigh a pound a week,

0 Lord, I never shall contrive
My gratitude to speak 1

If I can serve in any way
Yourself, my liberal Lord,

Believe me, Sir, by night or day,

You’ve only got to say the word.

Meantime upon my bended knees
I pray in fervent tone.

That, gracious Heaven will always please
To bless Viscount Palmerston.

He stuck me up amid haughty bards.

And men of art and science.

And thus my modesty rewards.

And sets them all at defiance.

And though I was a butcher low.

For humble craft designed,

Pothooks and hangers now shall flow,

In verse of every kind.

The man that will not honour me
Shall surely have a dose,

1 ’ll physic him uncommonly.

As sure as my name’s Close.

But on the good Lord Palmerston,

Our excellent Premeer,

I’ll never hurl a fiery blast.

Or speak at all severe.

For he is as good as he is great,

And when he comes to die,

I only hope that we shall both meet
In yon purpureous sky.

Till then I ’ll always sing his praise,

That I ’ve determined on;

And truly proud I am to hear
His name, like mine, is John.

How to Make a Book.

You can print it and publish it at your own
expense. If you fancy 500 copies will not be
sufficient, order 1000, or as many as you like, as
your object is only to give them away to your
friends. In this manner, the Book can be made
to go through as many editions as your superior
judgment thinks best. It all depends upon how
wide is the circle of your acquaintances, or how
deep is your purse.

The Richest Dish in the World.—The
: Weal” of Fortune.