DOI Heft:
January 23, 1864
DOI Seite / Zitierlink:https://doi.org/10.11588/diglit.16873#0041
January 23, 1864.]
PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI
33
A MECHANICAL DONKEY,
TOPICS WITH TEA.
Y way of improving _ his
mind, a person who signs
himself J. Passmore Ed-
wards, and who writes from
the office of the Mechanic's
Magazine and Journal of
the Applied Sciences, has
been applying all the science
he knows in concocting an
amusingly abusive letter to
Mr. Punch, which that gen-
tleman hereby acknowledges.
Mr. Passmore Edwards
complains of something
which we have published,
but as he describes it as a
“ characature,” we hardly
know what lie means; and
we also find it difficult to
reconcile the facts that
Passmore Edwards cannot
spell, and that there are so
many charity schools in
London. He sends, how-
evei-, the usual piece of
Billingsgate about a “hire-
ling scribe/’ from which we
gather that his own literary
exertions for the Mechanic's
Magazine are rewarded at
what — judging from Ms
spelling—they must be
exactly worth. But there
is always something to be learned, even from an idiot, and Pass-
more Edwards sends us a new fact. He states that his friend the
Member for Bochdale “ has flung his name into the Stars to blaze for
ever.” Still, even this novel fact is not stated with the precision
desirable in scientific statements. Mr. Cobden has, undoubtedly, flung
his name into a great many Stars—we think that so late as yesterday
there was an article about him—but they do not blaze for ever, but only
for about three minutes, while the domestic blows them to make the
wood in the grate catch fire. However, we are thankful for any
information, and have enclosed a spelling-book to Mr. Edwards, and
when he shall be a. little advanced in rudimentary knowledge, we will
ask him to learn tMs couplet—all easy little words :—
“ Lr. This. World . There. Is. One. Ass. More.
Than. Punch . Had. Known . And. That. Is . Pass . more.”
PROTECTION EOR GATEPOSTS.
Sir,
Por along term of years I have been subjected to an annoy-
ance, which has kept my temper in a constant state of irritation. I
occupy a suburban villa, with a gate and posts in front of it painted
wMte, but, as often as fresh painted, scribbled and drawn over by boys,
passing, or coming from tradesmen to the door. I am not one of those
testy persons who care about seeing their name scrawled under the
sketch of an irregular oval figure with toasting-forks for legs and arms,
or the. imperfect attempt of youthful art to delineate a man hanging on
a derrick. My dignity is not offended by those juvenile caricatures of
my person, but my sense of order is greatly afflicted by the disfigure-
ment of my premises. Now, Sir, I have at last contrived to rid myself
of this vexation; and your readers may like to know how.
I procured a large board, Sir, had it nicely whitewashed, and affixed
to the pailings close to my gate. To a nail, by a long string, I caused
to be attached a lead-pencil, and on the top of the board to be painted,
in large black letters, “ Please to write and draw on this board.” The
board is fresh whitewashed regularly every morning, or oftener if the
embellishments and inscriptions are of an otherwise than unobjection-
able nature. It answers admirably; and I think the authorities who
preside over the School of Design should give some credit for the
encouragement of juvenile genius to ^ Yours truly, Civis.
You can’t have Topics without T, that’s evident, the same remark
applies to Toast, though in tMs case, Tea must be taken twice. The
late lamented Mrs. Ramsbotham used to observe, m her own mimitable
style, that “ there was nothMg she liked morefihan taking a cpiiet cup of
tea M the evefflng, with a friend, while talkmg over and otherwise
disgusting the Tropics of the day.” Now I think of it, I fancy she
called them Toothpicks, not Tropics; words, however, are at the best
but arbitrary, and her meafflng, under either mode of expression,
remamed the same. With the opfflion of this respected gentlewoman
I do most certainly coincide.
Dinner-time, to rightly constituted mrnds and well ordered digestive
organs, affords no opportunity for discursive conversation. Between
the . courses, a few Jwell-turned observations upon the comparative
merits of certarn dishes, and concermng the time and seasons to
be regarded in the matter of imbibmg the fighter and the heavier
wrnes, may be, Mdeed, judiciously admitted. Let not a subject of Eoreign
or Domestic politics be even so much as thought of; and let not a
scandalous story be present with you, as becometh men gifted with
the talent of duly appreciating the science of health.
I pass over Dessert, a mere barbarous excrescence wMch, I take it,
will disappear with the last bottle of the “ EMe Old Crusted.” My
Clnistian dinner-eaters, what is this Dessert P Why does it yet hold
a place M your well-regulated households P It is an unblessed meal
I appeal to any head of a family. Is it not so ? There are thanks-
givmgs ante-prandial, and thanksgivings post-prandial; but from
the moment of its Mtroduction to society, a curse has, as it were,
rested upon the Mstitution of the Dessert. It is as if we said,
Heaven made the Dinner, man the Dessert. Look to it, ye cfinner-
givers. Think not that we, the dinner-eaters, judge of you by your
fruits. Trust not the proverb that says, “Speak of a man accordmg
to Ms Desserts; ” you know, as well as I, that the majority of our
friends speak of us according to our Dinners. Now we come to our
time for topics. Topics with T, undoubtedly. Drawfflg-room topics
with the Ladies’ Tea. But for men there is another and a better T, which
mrngles well with coffee, and is of all thongs most sMtable to topics, I
mean the T, Mitial of Tobacco. Come to the smoking-room; strike the
light cigar! Eill up your pipes, and clear your pipe if need be, to join
me in my bacca-role.
Air—‘ ‘ The. Sea ! The Sea ! ”
The T ! the T ! the T, A, B, A, C !
The new, the fresh, the drawing free.
The Clay-ay-ay Pi-ipe for me!
Without a mark, without a staM,
I’d smoke it and fill it u-up agam.
Then came a She ! Then came a She !
My friends who made with my house so free,
Who blew above as they blew below,
Were told to the kitchen that they must go !
My wife has her tea.
And so will we.
What,’bacca? What,’bacca?
Will you come and smo-oke with me ?
Chorus. What’bacca? What’bacca?
Will you come and smo-o-o-o-o-oke with me ?
After the Htroductory chorus comes the recitative of topics: very
true, but on referring to the time, I find that, to use a Huguenotically
operatic illustration, our conversation would be “ interrupted by the
watch,” and therefore we ’ll allow the Tropics, for this occasion, to end
M smoke. Whiff! Whiff!
Excuse for Late Hours.
“ He was as wild as he was good-natured, and had such a lot of
spirits that, not being able to exhaust them all M one night, he was
forcibly driven to encroach upon the next morning to enable him
properly to get through them.”—Extract from an Unpublished Irish
Novel.
HONOUR TO LETTERS,
Sir Rowland Hill ought to be the best informed person living, as
he must necessarily be (as the Yankees would express it) well “posted
up ” in all the movements of the day,—and rnght.
The Royal Baby.
Mr. Punch thinks that the most appropriate title for the little Prince
would be “Duke of Cornwall,” seeing that he must necessarily
remam so long a mrnor {miner).
a question to be answered.
We observe an advertisement beginning, Home's toithout Hands.
Well, we know that the Pope has forbidden Mr. Home t« do Ms
juggling with the hands, but why is it advertised ?
5 Art Note.—The
o’clock M the mornin
Parly
Italian Style.—An
Organ-grinder at five
Eashionable Trade Report.—Materials for Ladies’ Dresses, of all
colours, are in brisk demand, and fetch good prices per acre.
Vol. 4G.
2
PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI
33
A MECHANICAL DONKEY,
TOPICS WITH TEA.
Y way of improving _ his
mind, a person who signs
himself J. Passmore Ed-
wards, and who writes from
the office of the Mechanic's
Magazine and Journal of
the Applied Sciences, has
been applying all the science
he knows in concocting an
amusingly abusive letter to
Mr. Punch, which that gen-
tleman hereby acknowledges.
Mr. Passmore Edwards
complains of something
which we have published,
but as he describes it as a
“ characature,” we hardly
know what lie means; and
we also find it difficult to
reconcile the facts that
Passmore Edwards cannot
spell, and that there are so
many charity schools in
London. He sends, how-
evei-, the usual piece of
Billingsgate about a “hire-
ling scribe/’ from which we
gather that his own literary
exertions for the Mechanic's
Magazine are rewarded at
what — judging from Ms
spelling—they must be
exactly worth. But there
is always something to be learned, even from an idiot, and Pass-
more Edwards sends us a new fact. He states that his friend the
Member for Bochdale “ has flung his name into the Stars to blaze for
ever.” Still, even this novel fact is not stated with the precision
desirable in scientific statements. Mr. Cobden has, undoubtedly, flung
his name into a great many Stars—we think that so late as yesterday
there was an article about him—but they do not blaze for ever, but only
for about three minutes, while the domestic blows them to make the
wood in the grate catch fire. However, we are thankful for any
information, and have enclosed a spelling-book to Mr. Edwards, and
when he shall be a. little advanced in rudimentary knowledge, we will
ask him to learn tMs couplet—all easy little words :—
“ Lr. This. World . There. Is. One. Ass. More.
Than. Punch . Had. Known . And. That. Is . Pass . more.”
PROTECTION EOR GATEPOSTS.
Sir,
Por along term of years I have been subjected to an annoy-
ance, which has kept my temper in a constant state of irritation. I
occupy a suburban villa, with a gate and posts in front of it painted
wMte, but, as often as fresh painted, scribbled and drawn over by boys,
passing, or coming from tradesmen to the door. I am not one of those
testy persons who care about seeing their name scrawled under the
sketch of an irregular oval figure with toasting-forks for legs and arms,
or the. imperfect attempt of youthful art to delineate a man hanging on
a derrick. My dignity is not offended by those juvenile caricatures of
my person, but my sense of order is greatly afflicted by the disfigure-
ment of my premises. Now, Sir, I have at last contrived to rid myself
of this vexation; and your readers may like to know how.
I procured a large board, Sir, had it nicely whitewashed, and affixed
to the pailings close to my gate. To a nail, by a long string, I caused
to be attached a lead-pencil, and on the top of the board to be painted,
in large black letters, “ Please to write and draw on this board.” The
board is fresh whitewashed regularly every morning, or oftener if the
embellishments and inscriptions are of an otherwise than unobjection-
able nature. It answers admirably; and I think the authorities who
preside over the School of Design should give some credit for the
encouragement of juvenile genius to ^ Yours truly, Civis.
You can’t have Topics without T, that’s evident, the same remark
applies to Toast, though in tMs case, Tea must be taken twice. The
late lamented Mrs. Ramsbotham used to observe, m her own mimitable
style, that “ there was nothMg she liked morefihan taking a cpiiet cup of
tea M the evefflng, with a friend, while talkmg over and otherwise
disgusting the Tropics of the day.” Now I think of it, I fancy she
called them Toothpicks, not Tropics; words, however, are at the best
but arbitrary, and her meafflng, under either mode of expression,
remamed the same. With the opfflion of this respected gentlewoman
I do most certainly coincide.
Dinner-time, to rightly constituted mrnds and well ordered digestive
organs, affords no opportunity for discursive conversation. Between
the . courses, a few Jwell-turned observations upon the comparative
merits of certarn dishes, and concermng the time and seasons to
be regarded in the matter of imbibmg the fighter and the heavier
wrnes, may be, Mdeed, judiciously admitted. Let not a subject of Eoreign
or Domestic politics be even so much as thought of; and let not a
scandalous story be present with you, as becometh men gifted with
the talent of duly appreciating the science of health.
I pass over Dessert, a mere barbarous excrescence wMch, I take it,
will disappear with the last bottle of the “ EMe Old Crusted.” My
Clnistian dinner-eaters, what is this Dessert P Why does it yet hold
a place M your well-regulated households P It is an unblessed meal
I appeal to any head of a family. Is it not so ? There are thanks-
givmgs ante-prandial, and thanksgivings post-prandial; but from
the moment of its Mtroduction to society, a curse has, as it were,
rested upon the Mstitution of the Dessert. It is as if we said,
Heaven made the Dinner, man the Dessert. Look to it, ye cfinner-
givers. Think not that we, the dinner-eaters, judge of you by your
fruits. Trust not the proverb that says, “Speak of a man accordmg
to Ms Desserts; ” you know, as well as I, that the majority of our
friends speak of us according to our Dinners. Now we come to our
time for topics. Topics with T, undoubtedly. Drawfflg-room topics
with the Ladies’ Tea. But for men there is another and a better T, which
mrngles well with coffee, and is of all thongs most sMtable to topics, I
mean the T, Mitial of Tobacco. Come to the smoking-room; strike the
light cigar! Eill up your pipes, and clear your pipe if need be, to join
me in my bacca-role.
Air—‘ ‘ The. Sea ! The Sea ! ”
The T ! the T ! the T, A, B, A, C !
The new, the fresh, the drawing free.
The Clay-ay-ay Pi-ipe for me!
Without a mark, without a staM,
I’d smoke it and fill it u-up agam.
Then came a She ! Then came a She !
My friends who made with my house so free,
Who blew above as they blew below,
Were told to the kitchen that they must go !
My wife has her tea.
And so will we.
What,’bacca? What,’bacca?
Will you come and smo-oke with me ?
Chorus. What’bacca? What’bacca?
Will you come and smo-o-o-o-o-oke with me ?
After the Htroductory chorus comes the recitative of topics: very
true, but on referring to the time, I find that, to use a Huguenotically
operatic illustration, our conversation would be “ interrupted by the
watch,” and therefore we ’ll allow the Tropics, for this occasion, to end
M smoke. Whiff! Whiff!
Excuse for Late Hours.
“ He was as wild as he was good-natured, and had such a lot of
spirits that, not being able to exhaust them all M one night, he was
forcibly driven to encroach upon the next morning to enable him
properly to get through them.”—Extract from an Unpublished Irish
Novel.
HONOUR TO LETTERS,
Sir Rowland Hill ought to be the best informed person living, as
he must necessarily be (as the Yankees would express it) well “posted
up ” in all the movements of the day,—and rnght.
The Royal Baby.
Mr. Punch thinks that the most appropriate title for the little Prince
would be “Duke of Cornwall,” seeing that he must necessarily
remam so long a mrnor {miner).
a question to be answered.
We observe an advertisement beginning, Home's toithout Hands.
Well, we know that the Pope has forbidden Mr. Home t« do Ms
juggling with the hands, but why is it advertised ?
5 Art Note.—The
o’clock M the mornin
Parly
Italian Style.—An
Organ-grinder at five
Eashionable Trade Report.—Materials for Ladies’ Dresses, of all
colours, are in brisk demand, and fetch good prices per acre.
Vol. 4G.
2