DOI Heft:
October 31, 1863
DOI Seite / Zitierlink: https://doi.org/10.11588/diglit.16872#0195
184
October 31, 1863,
PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.
A FIX.
Separated H usband. “ Fetch him out, Sir! ”
Proprietor op Moke. “ Why, if I went near her, she'd lie down; She always goes in fist before high water; Nothing’ll fetch her mt
till the tide turns ! "
BRITISHER TO BEECHER.
Alas ! what a pity it is, Parson Beecher,
That you came not at once when Secession broke out,
As Abraham Lincoln’s Apostle, a preacher
Of the Union ; a gospel which Englishmen doubt;
Por that Union, you see,
Was a limb of our tree:
Its own branches to break themselves off are as free.
Still, Beecher, if you had been only sent hither.
When at first the Palmetto flag flouted the sky,
Commissioned foul slavery’s faction to wither.
And this nation invoke to be Preedom’s ally,
With your eloquent art
You had won England’s heart;
We were fully disposed towards taking your part.
Instead of a Reverend Beecher, appealing
To our conscience, in Liberty’s name, for the right.
We heard a cool scoundrel advise in the stealing
Of Britannia’s domains, North and South to unite ;
And your papers were full
Of abuse of John Bell ;
Whilst he bore the blockade which withheld cotton wool.
Malevolence, taking our ill-will for granted.
Has reviled us, pursued us with bluster and threat,
Supposing itself the remembrance had planted
In our bosom of wrongs which we couldn’t forget,
And should take, in its case
Of misfortune, as base
A revenge as itself would have ta’en in our place.
Tirades against England, with menace of slaughter,
Never yet have your Sumners, and such, ceased to pour,
Your bards talk of blowing us out of the water,
And threaten to “punish John Bull at his door.”
Now this isn’t the way
To make Englishmen pray
That the Yankees may finish by gaining the day.
An afterthought only is “Justice to.Niggers ; ”
’Tis a cry which those Yankees raised not till they found
That they for a Ion" time had been pulling triggers,
At their slaveholding brothers, and gained little ground.
Pirst Abe Lincoln gave out
That he’d fain bring about,
The Re-uniou with slavery too, or without.
So don’t waste your words in attempts at persuasion,
Which impose on no Briton alive but a fool.
But husband your breath for another occasion.
That is, Beecher, keep it your porridge to cool.
“ Strictly neutral will I
Still remain standing by,”
Says Britannia : “ d’ye see any green in my eye ? ”
Obtaining Laughter under False Pretences.
There are certain dislocations of words, which sound like jokes, but
which, upon examination, have but small pretensions to the honourable
character of a joke. Of this particular dubious class, perhaps, the
1 following may be cited as one of the best:—A gentleman was relating
| that on the evening he was present at the Adelphi to witness the
affecting drama of Leak, a lady, at the conclusion of the fifth act, had
been carried out in violent hysterics. “ Well ? ” said a notorious old
offender, “there’s nothing very-wonderful in that—isn’t the scene laid
in hi-Styria P ” _
“ L’Anglais Timide.”—Sir Robert Peel.
October 31, 1863,
PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.
A FIX.
Separated H usband. “ Fetch him out, Sir! ”
Proprietor op Moke. “ Why, if I went near her, she'd lie down; She always goes in fist before high water; Nothing’ll fetch her mt
till the tide turns ! "
BRITISHER TO BEECHER.
Alas ! what a pity it is, Parson Beecher,
That you came not at once when Secession broke out,
As Abraham Lincoln’s Apostle, a preacher
Of the Union ; a gospel which Englishmen doubt;
Por that Union, you see,
Was a limb of our tree:
Its own branches to break themselves off are as free.
Still, Beecher, if you had been only sent hither.
When at first the Palmetto flag flouted the sky,
Commissioned foul slavery’s faction to wither.
And this nation invoke to be Preedom’s ally,
With your eloquent art
You had won England’s heart;
We were fully disposed towards taking your part.
Instead of a Reverend Beecher, appealing
To our conscience, in Liberty’s name, for the right.
We heard a cool scoundrel advise in the stealing
Of Britannia’s domains, North and South to unite ;
And your papers were full
Of abuse of John Bell ;
Whilst he bore the blockade which withheld cotton wool.
Malevolence, taking our ill-will for granted.
Has reviled us, pursued us with bluster and threat,
Supposing itself the remembrance had planted
In our bosom of wrongs which we couldn’t forget,
And should take, in its case
Of misfortune, as base
A revenge as itself would have ta’en in our place.
Tirades against England, with menace of slaughter,
Never yet have your Sumners, and such, ceased to pour,
Your bards talk of blowing us out of the water,
And threaten to “punish John Bull at his door.”
Now this isn’t the way
To make Englishmen pray
That the Yankees may finish by gaining the day.
An afterthought only is “Justice to.Niggers ; ”
’Tis a cry which those Yankees raised not till they found
That they for a Ion" time had been pulling triggers,
At their slaveholding brothers, and gained little ground.
Pirst Abe Lincoln gave out
That he’d fain bring about,
The Re-uniou with slavery too, or without.
So don’t waste your words in attempts at persuasion,
Which impose on no Briton alive but a fool.
But husband your breath for another occasion.
That is, Beecher, keep it your porridge to cool.
“ Strictly neutral will I
Still remain standing by,”
Says Britannia : “ d’ye see any green in my eye ? ”
Obtaining Laughter under False Pretences.
There are certain dislocations of words, which sound like jokes, but
which, upon examination, have but small pretensions to the honourable
character of a joke. Of this particular dubious class, perhaps, the
1 following may be cited as one of the best:—A gentleman was relating
| that on the evening he was present at the Adelphi to witness the
affecting drama of Leak, a lady, at the conclusion of the fifth act, had
been carried out in violent hysterics. “ Well ? ” said a notorious old
offender, “there’s nothing very-wonderful in that—isn’t the scene laid
in hi-Styria P ” _
“ L’Anglais Timide.”—Sir Robert Peel.