DOI Heft:
April 18, 1863
DOI Seite / Zitierlink: https://doi.org/10.11588/diglit.16871#0164
April is, 1863.] PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. l«
Our friend Browne, the fashionable Portrait Painter, occupies this Hansom, going to
dine in Carlton Gardens, April 7th—it was annoying under these circumstances, to meet
Stodge, who was taking his Pictures to the Academy on the top of a Bus, and to be
violently recognised by that low Bohemian all the way down Piccadilly.
THE NATAL CORRESPONDENCE.
(,Second Instalment.)
Natal to Manchester.
My dear Prince Lee,
You scold poor me.
But this is clear, as you must see.
“ The hare,” says Moses, “ chews the cud.”
“ It don’t,” says Owen, Now, my Lud ? N.
Manchester to Natal.
My dear Natal,
Your letter’s quite
Worthy the way you think and write.
You snap a word, which may not mean
The beast the Hebrew called unclean.
But I have far too much to do
To waste my time in smashing you. M.
Canterbury to His Clergy.
Beloved Brethren,
Spare your bile;
Colenso’s book is puerile.
So trite his views, that, as you know,
They were demolished years ago :
'they can’t seduce good folks, like us,
Though they may make the wicked wus.
As certain advertisers do,
“ Try our South African,” cry you.
1 can’t, for clerical Bed Tape
Sends him. for trial to the Cape.
But, for his unbelieving biasses,
1 do prohibit him my diocese.
And thank you for the note you’ve signed,
The which I take uncommon kind. C.
No Water-Babies.
Mr. Punch, whose Puseyite tendencies are known, is
delighted to learn that the clergy of his persuasion have
resolved to refuse to christen any baby who shall so far
set at nought the commands of the Church as to be born
in Lent. The new little Princess, bless her, is safe, not
having arrived till Easter, so his clergy are spared the
unpleasant necessity of again insulting the Head of the
Church on a matter of observance, but babies who have so
far forgotten themselves as to come and make people
happy during a time of penance, will be strictly anonymous
to the end of their days.
PUNCH AND THE PUNSTERS.
As Alexander wept that there were no more worlds to conquer, so
Punch may one day shed a tear that there are no more jokes to make.
But at present Punch feels certainly far more disposed to weep at the
prospect of hard labour which every post entails on him by bringing a
fresh myriad of jocular conceits. With the exception of our butterman,
no one knows what weakly puns are daily poured into our letter-box, in
the hope of being placed in the immortal type of Punch. To show what
wretched rubbish is thus shot upon our premises, we select for this
week’s pillory a leash of the last riddles which nave ruffled the com-
posure of our well-balanced mind. By way of a beginning, reader,
what d’ ye think of this ?—
Q. If the Statue of Jenner had been set up crooked, which month
in the Calendar would it have resembled P
A. Jenner-awrv.
Thus bad begins, but worse remains behind. Take a nip of brandy,
reader- and when you think your nerves will bear it, gulp down
riddle No. 2:—
Q. Why are flatterers like persons who are tired of seeing their
uncle’s sisters ?
A. Because they are sick-of-aunts.
After this, perhaps you’ll say, the force of folly can no further go.
Can’t it ? wait a moment. You are not afraid of fainting, are you ?
Then how do you like this ?—
Q. If little Willy’s father were to treat him to the play, why would
the money so expended be like a part of Islington?
A. Because it’s Spent-on-Will.
THE CHAIRMAN OF CHRISTENDOM.
One of Reuter’s telegrams, the other day, after stating that the
Pope, on Easter Sunday, gave his benediction urbi et orbi, delivered
the ambiguous announcement that:—
“ His Holiness was cheered.”
How P Are we to understand merely that the Holy Father was
greeted with shouts of “ Viva ! ” and “ Hip, hip, hip, hooray! ” or
something else as well? Cheered. Nice ears are often pained by
vulgar persons who say "cheer” when they mean "chair.” Was it
one of these wretches who worked the telegraph which transmitted the
foregoing message, and, when he made it represent that the Successor
of St. Peter was cheered, did he mean, in truth, to intimate that he was
chaired; that is to say. carried on men’s shoulders in St. Peter’s Chair,
as it may be believed that the early Christians used to carry St. Peter,
and as British street-boys undoubtedly do carry Guy Fawkes ?
Original Anecdote.
The prettiest of all the young ladies in the refreshment place in the
station at Peterborough made a clever remark to Mr. Punch the other
night. He was affably taking a Bath Bun or two, and waiting for
the hell to ring, and of course was in improving conversation with the
fair attendants. "My friend, Lord Palmerston, has had a good time
of it in Scotland,” said Mr. Punch. “Yes, Sir,” said the young lady,
“ and he has praised the people there so much, that I think he should m
future be called Lord Butter-scotch.” She pointed her words by
handing to Mr. Punch a packet of the delicate confectionery so named,
and he was so overcome by his feelings that he went off without paying.
Our friend Browne, the fashionable Portrait Painter, occupies this Hansom, going to
dine in Carlton Gardens, April 7th—it was annoying under these circumstances, to meet
Stodge, who was taking his Pictures to the Academy on the top of a Bus, and to be
violently recognised by that low Bohemian all the way down Piccadilly.
THE NATAL CORRESPONDENCE.
(,Second Instalment.)
Natal to Manchester.
My dear Prince Lee,
You scold poor me.
But this is clear, as you must see.
“ The hare,” says Moses, “ chews the cud.”
“ It don’t,” says Owen, Now, my Lud ? N.
Manchester to Natal.
My dear Natal,
Your letter’s quite
Worthy the way you think and write.
You snap a word, which may not mean
The beast the Hebrew called unclean.
But I have far too much to do
To waste my time in smashing you. M.
Canterbury to His Clergy.
Beloved Brethren,
Spare your bile;
Colenso’s book is puerile.
So trite his views, that, as you know,
They were demolished years ago :
'they can’t seduce good folks, like us,
Though they may make the wicked wus.
As certain advertisers do,
“ Try our South African,” cry you.
1 can’t, for clerical Bed Tape
Sends him. for trial to the Cape.
But, for his unbelieving biasses,
1 do prohibit him my diocese.
And thank you for the note you’ve signed,
The which I take uncommon kind. C.
No Water-Babies.
Mr. Punch, whose Puseyite tendencies are known, is
delighted to learn that the clergy of his persuasion have
resolved to refuse to christen any baby who shall so far
set at nought the commands of the Church as to be born
in Lent. The new little Princess, bless her, is safe, not
having arrived till Easter, so his clergy are spared the
unpleasant necessity of again insulting the Head of the
Church on a matter of observance, but babies who have so
far forgotten themselves as to come and make people
happy during a time of penance, will be strictly anonymous
to the end of their days.
PUNCH AND THE PUNSTERS.
As Alexander wept that there were no more worlds to conquer, so
Punch may one day shed a tear that there are no more jokes to make.
But at present Punch feels certainly far more disposed to weep at the
prospect of hard labour which every post entails on him by bringing a
fresh myriad of jocular conceits. With the exception of our butterman,
no one knows what weakly puns are daily poured into our letter-box, in
the hope of being placed in the immortal type of Punch. To show what
wretched rubbish is thus shot upon our premises, we select for this
week’s pillory a leash of the last riddles which nave ruffled the com-
posure of our well-balanced mind. By way of a beginning, reader,
what d’ ye think of this ?—
Q. If the Statue of Jenner had been set up crooked, which month
in the Calendar would it have resembled P
A. Jenner-awrv.
Thus bad begins, but worse remains behind. Take a nip of brandy,
reader- and when you think your nerves will bear it, gulp down
riddle No. 2:—
Q. Why are flatterers like persons who are tired of seeing their
uncle’s sisters ?
A. Because they are sick-of-aunts.
After this, perhaps you’ll say, the force of folly can no further go.
Can’t it ? wait a moment. You are not afraid of fainting, are you ?
Then how do you like this ?—
Q. If little Willy’s father were to treat him to the play, why would
the money so expended be like a part of Islington?
A. Because it’s Spent-on-Will.
THE CHAIRMAN OF CHRISTENDOM.
One of Reuter’s telegrams, the other day, after stating that the
Pope, on Easter Sunday, gave his benediction urbi et orbi, delivered
the ambiguous announcement that:—
“ His Holiness was cheered.”
How P Are we to understand merely that the Holy Father was
greeted with shouts of “ Viva ! ” and “ Hip, hip, hip, hooray! ” or
something else as well? Cheered. Nice ears are often pained by
vulgar persons who say "cheer” when they mean "chair.” Was it
one of these wretches who worked the telegraph which transmitted the
foregoing message, and, when he made it represent that the Successor
of St. Peter was cheered, did he mean, in truth, to intimate that he was
chaired; that is to say. carried on men’s shoulders in St. Peter’s Chair,
as it may be believed that the early Christians used to carry St. Peter,
and as British street-boys undoubtedly do carry Guy Fawkes ?
Original Anecdote.
The prettiest of all the young ladies in the refreshment place in the
station at Peterborough made a clever remark to Mr. Punch the other
night. He was affably taking a Bath Bun or two, and waiting for
the hell to ring, and of course was in improving conversation with the
fair attendants. "My friend, Lord Palmerston, has had a good time
of it in Scotland,” said Mr. Punch. “Yes, Sir,” said the young lady,
“ and he has praised the people there so much, that I think he should m
future be called Lord Butter-scotch.” She pointed her words by
handing to Mr. Punch a packet of the delicate confectionery so named,
and he was so overcome by his feelings that he went off without paying.