Punch (47.1864)

September 17, 1864.]

PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.


I saw a long article in an old number of the Times on the same subject,
and though Edward did not say that he had written it, I should not
be surprised if he had, as the arguments were exactly the same, only
Edwakd was clearer in his verbal explanation.

5- 6.—Dinner. Afterwards Edward proposed dear Mamma’s health,
and almost brought the tears into our eyes by his feeling language. He
speaks beautifully, and so like a gentleman. I could have kissed him.
Perhaps 1 did, afterwards.

6- 10.—Round games, and nonsense. At cross questions Louisa
asked me, what was the use of a wedding-ring, and Charley Stothard
answered, “ To catch a mermaid.” This was very odd indeed, unless
Edward had been prompting. I told him he had, but he said no, and
that we had a flood of good omens setting in strong, which was a very
clever sea-side image, I thought.

10-11.—We went off early, but Edward and Charley Stothard
sat on the rocks till nearly twelve o’clock, and I should like to know
what they were talking about all that time. Mermaids, perhaps. I
will know.

[We have inserted our fair Correspondent’s contribution, but as it is
really the diary of her friend, Mr. Edward, rather than her own, we
shall be obliged (should she favour us with any more) if she will
send her own journal instead of his biography.—Ed. Punch.

SNOBS AND SURGEONS IN THE ARMY.

ray don’t imagine, Punch,
that the Surgeon-Eamine in
the Army is the fault of the
Swells. I suppose I am
what is called a Swell. My
ancestors came in with
Canute. They have never
exercised any branch of in-
dustry, and have always
lived sumptuously on the
labour of others. I myself
am in the Army, simply be-
cause I think I ought to
be something more than a
Swell, and am fit for nothing
else so much as for a Soldier.

Now, of all the fellows in
a Regiment, I assure you,
1 consider the Surgeon to
be, generally, the most of a
gentleman. He is at least
as much of one as any of
them, and he has, if regu-
larly appointed, been made
as much more of a gentle-
man than the rest as a much
better education than they
have had could make him.
The indignity which Army
Surgeons are treated with proceeds not from pride of rank and birth
on tne part of any of their brother officers, but from a consciousness of
the want of those advantages on the part of some of them. In this
commercial country many a fellow enters the Army who never had a
grandfather that he could give any account of, and the best that such a
fellow can say of his pedigree usually is that his father was a tailor.
More commonly an officer of that class of fellows is the son of a large
mercantile rogue, or a swindling railway jobber. Well, he cannot help
that; and he is rich, and his own money at least was not ill-gotten;
and he might be a gentleman if he chose. But instead of that, he is
too often a purse-proud Snob. This is the sort of fellow that thinks it
necessary to assert his position by insisting on the abasement of Army
Surgeons. It is not the Swells in a regiment. Punch, who are insolent
to the Surgeon, but only the Snobs. Mushrooms these Snobs are called
by men who have less respect for a mushroom than I have, for I con-
sider it an excellent ingredient, not an objectionable one, in a mess.
Those who term them mushrooms, will further say that, inasmuch as
they peculiarly abound in the Cavalry, the majority of them are Horse
Mushrooms; but, comparing these bloated and extremely offensive
Snobs to fungi, I would rather name them Toadstools.

I consider the Surgeon quite as much a combatant officer as myself.
We don’t in these days, charge with lances in rest, and we no longer
brandish battle-axes and maces. He is as likely to be struck down at
any time by disease, sometimes bv shot, as I am. I wish no invidious
distinction to be made between him and myself. I would not assign
him the uniform of a Beadle. Let him wear that of his relative rank in
the Army, or be allowed to dress in plain clothes, so that he might, as
perhaps he would like to, be distinguished from a combatant fool.

Unless the reasonable demands of the Army Surgeons are granted,


I shall be obliged to throw up my Commission. Suppose I am killed in
action, well and good. I am prepared for that. But I may be wounded.
Eor that 1 am prepared too. I am always ready to lose a limb for my
country. But my country must take care that it shall be skilfully
amputated. I expect my country to provide that any operation which
its service may require me to undergo shall be performed safely,
quickly, and pleasantly, as much as it can be. Certainly I value my
blood too highly to. allow it to be spilt by a bungling operator. I don’t
at all .relish the idea of an Acting-Assistant Surgeon, obtained by
advertisement, attempting to extract a bullet deeply lodged in the com-
plicated anatomy of your humble servant.

Rag and Famish, Sept. 1864. Armiger.

“ HARVEST CART ” IN SUFFOLK.

Yow, Jack, bring them ’ere bosses here—

Get this ’ere waggin out;

I think the weather mean to cleare.

So jest yow look about!

Come put old Jolly to right quick—

Now then, hook Di’mond on,

(There, chuck yow down that plaguy stick).

An’ goo an’ call old John.

John bo’, the “ Cart-shod close” we ’ll try
(Get yow upon the stack);

I’m sure the whate’s by this time dry—

Bring them ’ere forks here, Jack.

Blarm that ’ere chap ! Where is he now f
Jest look yow here, my man,

If yow don’t want to have a row,

Be steady, if yow can.

Ope that ’ere gate. Wish! Jolly—Wo!

Cop that ’ere rope up, Sam ;

Now I ’ll get down an’ pitch, bo’, so
Jump yow up where 1 am.

Load wide enough, mate,—that’s the style—

Now hold ye!—Di’mond!—Wo-o !—

Jack !—that ’ere boy do me that rile—

Jest mind yow where yow goo!

There goo a rabbit! Boxer, hi!—

She’s sure to get to grownd.

Hold ye! Now then, bo’, jest yow try
To turn them nicely round.

Don’t knock them shoves down!—Blalm the boy!

Yow ’ll be in that ’ere haw !

That feller do me so annoy;

But he don’t care a straw.

******

How goo the time ? I kind o’ think
Our fourses * should be here.

Chaps, don’t yow fare to want some drink ?—

There’s Sue with the old beer!

The rain have cleared right slap away;

An’ if it hold out bright,

Let’s work right hard, lads (what d’ye say?)

An’ clear this feld to-night!

* The harvest men leave off at four o’clock for refreshment, which they call their
“ fourses.*

HIPPOPHAGY AGAIN.

One of the Secretaries of the French Society for the Protection of
Animals, in a lecture given the other day in Paris at the Garden of
Acclimatatiou, revived the proposal to constitute horseflesh an article
of food, demonstrating its acceptability with a tureen of horse soup, and
another dish of that noble animal dressed a la daube, which he offered
to his audience, and they, including many ladies, devoured. Well;
who shall tax them with eating strange food ? If all the prime tongues
ready cooked, on sale at our British grocers’, could speak, and would
tell the truth, we apprehend that not a few. of them would neigh.

There is support, doubtless, in saddle of horse, but, for eating, we
are disposed to prefer saddle of mutton.

How they do Things in the City.

By some returns published by the Finance Committee of the Corpo-
ration, we notice that the entertainments given by the City upon the
entry of the Princess amounted to upwards of £50,000. Sumptuous as
the Guildhall banquets are known to be, we suspect that so rich an
entree never graced a City entertainment before.