DOI Heft:
December 20, 1862
DOI Seite / Zitierlink: https://doi.org/10.11588/diglit.16870#0254
December 20, 1862.]
PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.
247
Little Jokes (who of course is not a bit afraid of the Garotters), sotto voce. “ I
wonder what the dooce that low-looking fellow means by always trying to get behind me.”
A NURSERY RHYME EOR THE CRAWLEY
SPARROW CIDES.
“ Sparrow Murder.—A country paper of this week has the fol-
lowing announcement:—‘ Crawley Sparrow Club.—The annual dinner
took place at the George Inn on Wednesday last. The first prize was
awarded to Mr. J. Redford, Worth, for having destroyed within the
year 1,467. Mr. Heaysman took the second, with 1,448 destroyed.
Mr. Stone third, with 982 affixed. Total destroyed, 11,044. Old
birds, 8,663 ; young ditto, 722 ; eggs, 2,559.' ”—Times.
W ho killed Cock-sparrow p
“ I,” said three men of Crawley,
With my club in my mawley,
“ I killed Cock-sparrow ! ”
Who saw liim die ?
“I,” said Caterpillar,
“AQd I blessed sparrow-killer,
As I saw him die.35
Who ’ll dance on his grave ?
“I,” said Mr. Slug,
“ With Green fly and Red-bug,
We ’ll dauce on his grave.”
Who ’ll weep for his loss ?
“ I,” said young Wheat-shoot,
Eruit, and Elower-bud and root,
We ’ll weep for his loss.”
The Liquidation that is Wanted.
Mohs, de Lesseps is said to have expressed his great
delight at seeing the waters of the Mediterranean flow
into one of the tributary canals that are to cut through
the Isthmus of Suez. We have no doubt that the great
engineer overflowed with joy on the happy occasion, but
we fancy what would give him greater pleasure than any-
thing else would be to see the subscriptions flow in. But
the question is, where is the Bank that they are to come
from ?
THOUGHT ON TRANSPORTATION.
As we don’t hang our criminal rubbish at home, we
had better shoot it abroad.
GAROTTER HUNTERS WANTED.
(A Confidential Letter to Prank Ealloweield, Esq., of Cyder Court,
Devonshire.)
“ Dear Erank,
“ You recollect what fun we had with old Squire Dingle’s
otter hounds that day by Brawley Bottom, and how, you blackguard,
you kept chaffing me about my Cockney way of living, and wondered
now a fellow ever could be fool enough to waste his life in London,
where there was no chance of his enjoying any sport. Well now, if
you’ll just come and spend a week with me this Christmas, I think I
can convince you to the contrary of that. I can’t give you any otter
hunting, but if you want a new sensation, what d’ ye say, my boy, to a
night’s Garotter hunting ? We have got together a splendid pack this
season, and the game is still so plentiful that I ’ll bet we ’ll show you
some really first -rate sport.
“ To tempt you up, old chap, I’ll just describe the way in which we
go to work. The meet takes place at some man’s rooms at eight
o’clock p.m. (on foggy evenings generally we meet at six o’clock) and
when we’ve got our pack together, we throw off in the direction where
we think it likeliest thatwe shall see some sport. To start the game,
one of the hunters, who is armed with a spiked collar, and has a spine
of little daggers bristling down his back, proceeds at a slow pace along
some quiet square or street, assuming as he does so a rather tipsy gait.
His corkscrewv gyrations are sure to start the Garotter if there be one
in sight, and when the vermin has once broken ground and fastened on
his prey, the pack, who are provided with stout hunting-whips and
cudgels, rush in and give the brute a thundering good thrashing, and
then pass him over to the hands of the police.
“If Garotter-hunting clubs were established about town, I think
that they would soon exterminate the animal- for judging by the way
in which he shrieks and squeals, there is nothing he nates more than
being soundly thrashed. This you know he never is when hunted down
by the police, who have orders, I believe, to treat him with all tender-
ness, and not to hurt a hair of the precious creature’s head. When run
to earth in gaol he is well fed and never thrashed, and so of course the
breed is largely on the increase, and there is little fear at present of
there being no Garotters found to hunt. If we wish to clear our streets
of the vermin that infest them, we must get good beaters and set them
well to work. So, as you have a good biceps, I hope that you ’ll come up
and have a jolly run with onr Garotter hunting pack; and meanwhile
believe me, my dear boy,
“ Yours in all sincerity,
“ Bludgeon Buildings, Tuesday.” “ Epaminondas Jones.”
SUBTERRANEAN NEWS.
Mr. Punch invited the Underground Railway people to come forth
with a statement of their reasons for delaying the opening of their line.
With the usual deference which all well-regulated associations show to
any suggestion by Mr. Punch (it is in fact so suicidal in any person
to neglect Mr. Bunch's slightest hint that the not answering him and
the appearing in the Gazette of Bankruptcy is one and the same thing,
to quote Miss Miggs) the railway people immediately issued an apology
in the Times. They state that the Eleet Ditch irruption delayed the
completion of theEarringdon Street terminus, but that all is now ready,
from the lunch that is to welcome Mr. Bunch on the opening day
(he trusts that this remark does not apply to the oysters, as he has a
predilection for fresh ones) to the velveteen trousers of the porters.
The directors hope to open on the 22nd. In his turn, Mr. Punch hopes
that they will keep all their officials in a high state of temperance
i during tue Christmas week, and even if extreme speed has to be
sacrificed while experience is being learned in the Sewer, the motto had
better be “slow. and_ sewer,” rather than swift and smash. Being
deeply interested in this great bore, he makes no excuse for the hint,
indeed catch him making excuses for anything. The notification that
the rail is to be open has produced a most extraordinary phenomenon
in the New Road, and he has heard, but of course allows for exagge-
ration, that seven omnibus cads have spoken civilly to passengers
during the past week, and that one, to whom a threepenny piece was
tendered by mistake lor fourpence, requested the other penny without
a single offensive expression. Competition is the true missionary of
humanity.
PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.
247
Little Jokes (who of course is not a bit afraid of the Garotters), sotto voce. “ I
wonder what the dooce that low-looking fellow means by always trying to get behind me.”
A NURSERY RHYME EOR THE CRAWLEY
SPARROW CIDES.
“ Sparrow Murder.—A country paper of this week has the fol-
lowing announcement:—‘ Crawley Sparrow Club.—The annual dinner
took place at the George Inn on Wednesday last. The first prize was
awarded to Mr. J. Redford, Worth, for having destroyed within the
year 1,467. Mr. Heaysman took the second, with 1,448 destroyed.
Mr. Stone third, with 982 affixed. Total destroyed, 11,044. Old
birds, 8,663 ; young ditto, 722 ; eggs, 2,559.' ”—Times.
W ho killed Cock-sparrow p
“ I,” said three men of Crawley,
With my club in my mawley,
“ I killed Cock-sparrow ! ”
Who saw liim die ?
“I,” said Caterpillar,
“AQd I blessed sparrow-killer,
As I saw him die.35
Who ’ll dance on his grave ?
“I,” said Mr. Slug,
“ With Green fly and Red-bug,
We ’ll dauce on his grave.”
Who ’ll weep for his loss ?
“ I,” said young Wheat-shoot,
Eruit, and Elower-bud and root,
We ’ll weep for his loss.”
The Liquidation that is Wanted.
Mohs, de Lesseps is said to have expressed his great
delight at seeing the waters of the Mediterranean flow
into one of the tributary canals that are to cut through
the Isthmus of Suez. We have no doubt that the great
engineer overflowed with joy on the happy occasion, but
we fancy what would give him greater pleasure than any-
thing else would be to see the subscriptions flow in. But
the question is, where is the Bank that they are to come
from ?
THOUGHT ON TRANSPORTATION.
As we don’t hang our criminal rubbish at home, we
had better shoot it abroad.
GAROTTER HUNTERS WANTED.
(A Confidential Letter to Prank Ealloweield, Esq., of Cyder Court,
Devonshire.)
“ Dear Erank,
“ You recollect what fun we had with old Squire Dingle’s
otter hounds that day by Brawley Bottom, and how, you blackguard,
you kept chaffing me about my Cockney way of living, and wondered
now a fellow ever could be fool enough to waste his life in London,
where there was no chance of his enjoying any sport. Well now, if
you’ll just come and spend a week with me this Christmas, I think I
can convince you to the contrary of that. I can’t give you any otter
hunting, but if you want a new sensation, what d’ ye say, my boy, to a
night’s Garotter hunting ? We have got together a splendid pack this
season, and the game is still so plentiful that I ’ll bet we ’ll show you
some really first -rate sport.
“ To tempt you up, old chap, I’ll just describe the way in which we
go to work. The meet takes place at some man’s rooms at eight
o’clock p.m. (on foggy evenings generally we meet at six o’clock) and
when we’ve got our pack together, we throw off in the direction where
we think it likeliest thatwe shall see some sport. To start the game,
one of the hunters, who is armed with a spiked collar, and has a spine
of little daggers bristling down his back, proceeds at a slow pace along
some quiet square or street, assuming as he does so a rather tipsy gait.
His corkscrewv gyrations are sure to start the Garotter if there be one
in sight, and when the vermin has once broken ground and fastened on
his prey, the pack, who are provided with stout hunting-whips and
cudgels, rush in and give the brute a thundering good thrashing, and
then pass him over to the hands of the police.
“If Garotter-hunting clubs were established about town, I think
that they would soon exterminate the animal- for judging by the way
in which he shrieks and squeals, there is nothing he nates more than
being soundly thrashed. This you know he never is when hunted down
by the police, who have orders, I believe, to treat him with all tender-
ness, and not to hurt a hair of the precious creature’s head. When run
to earth in gaol he is well fed and never thrashed, and so of course the
breed is largely on the increase, and there is little fear at present of
there being no Garotters found to hunt. If we wish to clear our streets
of the vermin that infest them, we must get good beaters and set them
well to work. So, as you have a good biceps, I hope that you ’ll come up
and have a jolly run with onr Garotter hunting pack; and meanwhile
believe me, my dear boy,
“ Yours in all sincerity,
“ Bludgeon Buildings, Tuesday.” “ Epaminondas Jones.”
SUBTERRANEAN NEWS.
Mr. Punch invited the Underground Railway people to come forth
with a statement of their reasons for delaying the opening of their line.
With the usual deference which all well-regulated associations show to
any suggestion by Mr. Punch (it is in fact so suicidal in any person
to neglect Mr. Bunch's slightest hint that the not answering him and
the appearing in the Gazette of Bankruptcy is one and the same thing,
to quote Miss Miggs) the railway people immediately issued an apology
in the Times. They state that the Eleet Ditch irruption delayed the
completion of theEarringdon Street terminus, but that all is now ready,
from the lunch that is to welcome Mr. Bunch on the opening day
(he trusts that this remark does not apply to the oysters, as he has a
predilection for fresh ones) to the velveteen trousers of the porters.
The directors hope to open on the 22nd. In his turn, Mr. Punch hopes
that they will keep all their officials in a high state of temperance
i during tue Christmas week, and even if extreme speed has to be
sacrificed while experience is being learned in the Sewer, the motto had
better be “slow. and_ sewer,” rather than swift and smash. Being
deeply interested in this great bore, he makes no excuse for the hint,
indeed catch him making excuses for anything. The notification that
the rail is to be open has produced a most extraordinary phenomenon
in the New Road, and he has heard, but of course allows for exagge-
ration, that seven omnibus cads have spoken civilly to passengers
during the past week, and that one, to whom a threepenny piece was
tendered by mistake lor fourpence, requested the other penny without
a single offensive expression. Competition is the true missionary of
humanity.