DOI Heft:
October 7, 1865
DOI Seite / Zitierlink: https://doi.org/10.11588/diglit.16876#0145
October 7, 1865.]
PUNCH, Oil THE LONDON CHARIVARI.
133
A SHABBY RELATION.
Uncle. “George, hire’s a Beautiful Chromo-Lithograph I’ve just Bought.
Vert Cheap I got ic. Now, I want tour Advice where to Hang it. I was
THINKING-”
George (disgusted). “A Cbromo I Well, op all the Beastlt-Look here,
Uncle ! I should take the Opportunitt when the Cook was in a Good
Humour, and ask her, as a Great Favour, to find a Place for it behind
the Back-Kitchen Door I! ”
[Fact is, George thinks his rich relative had much better spend his Money in
Original Pictures, and in those of one talented young Painter in particular.
CHIVALRY AND THE CUDGEL.
We have to chronicle another instance of the new reading of Blackstone, so
efficiently illustrated of late by both paid and unpaid Magistrates. That eminent
Judge—sometimes Homer nods—was so illogical as to write that the Law regarded
personal safety before that of property. This mistake, excusable in a century
when joint-stock banks, railway scrip, and electro-plate were not, is daily receiving
correction at the hands of London and country Justices. The latest instance is
the following. One William Fletcher, Somerset, farmer, lately made a furious
attack on some girls, who, under the guard of their governess, strayed from a foot-
path to this British farmer’s hedge and picked blackberries. Whereon this
creditable specimen of Zummerset flew at them, and beat two with his stick till
he drove them, shrieking, over a stile, and so off his land. Their necks and
shoulders were covered with bruises and weals. In due time the gallant Fletcher
appeared before the county Magistrates at Bath. The Chairman told him, “No
man, with the feelings of an Englishman, would have behaved in the unmanly
and brutal way he had,” and fined him—forty shillings and costs, such costs to
include a guinea to the young ladies’ solicitor and a guinea to their doctor.
Considering that the 100th chapter of the 24 and 25 Viet., section 43, provides
a maximum of six months imprisonment or twenty pounds fine for an aggravated
assault on women, sentimental sticklers for personal comfort might consider the
Magistrates ridiculously lenient; but if girls run at, one’s blackberry hedge where
is the farmer who wouldn’t run at them with a cudgel, and raise “weals and con-
tusions P ”
Purses and turnips are to be guarded by county Magistrates with great se-
verity, but shins and bones must take risks. Whether we can make the other
Zummerset farmers coincide with us in our sympathy for Mr. Fletcher we don’t
know—but floreat Baculum !
IN VINO VERITAS.
“ I ’ll heat his blood with Greekish wine to-night.”
Troilus and Cressida.
The wines of Greece ! the wines of Greece!
(’Tvvas thus a Shambro’ merchant sung)
It gives the tortured mind no peace,
To think that Britons, old and young,
Their port and sherry can forget,
For Santorin, or Mount Hymett.
The Scian and the Teian Grape,
An English palate seem to suit;
In vain the wine of Spain we ape.
With distillation from the root
Produced in regions of the West:
Folks will maintain the vine is best.
Say, where hath gone the jolly nose,
Compact of colours red and blue.
Which showed by spots like fruit of sloes.
The source to which its tints were due?
Acute and keen, not squat and broad,
Its sharpened nostrils sniff out fraud.
Fill high the vat with Sbambro’ wine 1
We will not think on themes like these;
Let’s call the mixture Sherry fine,
Or any other name they please.
Bebuke not, friends, the buyer’s voice:
W7ho pays his cash should take his choice.
One writer, sure from northern climes,
Maintains that toddy drinks as well;
Another “Taster,” in the Times,
Declares it hath a tallowy smell.
Rise, Porson ! from thy grave, and halloo,
’Tis ou5e rSSe ovSe r&AAo.
Fill high the bowl with Shambro’ wine!
On Brighton’s beach, on Scarbro’s shore;
Exists the gallant landlord line,
Who pile their charges as of yore.
Of their six shillings grant but one,
And Shambro’s fount shall still flow on.
Trust not to vintage of the Franks,
Tho’ pure from Bacchus’ grape it wells;
In northern roots, in northern tanks,
The only hope of profit dwells.
Not thus shall John Bull be beguiled !
Cries Denman fierce and Druitt mild.
Oh, place me on Elbe’s muddy bank.
Where, free from each intruding eye,
Safe I may try each chemic prank,
And keen analysis defy.
Potatoes, wash, and drugs combine,
And smash t.h’ accursed Grecian wine.
Just the Difference.
Mr. Punch was walking the other day in the neigh-
bourhood of Chatham, in company with a distinguished
foreigner, when the latter inquired the meaning of a broad
arrow, which was engraved upon a post. “The Broad
Arrow,” said Mr. Bunch, ever ready to give information;
“ is the distinguishing mark of the Government.” “ And
what, then,” rejoined his friend, “ is that of the Opposi-
tion?” “The Long Bow” instantly replied Mr. Bunch,
handing him a newspaper containing the Conservative
speeches on the results of the recent elections.
CHESTERFIELD IN THE CITY.
The gentlemen in the City are proverbial for their polite-
ness. For instance, we have been informed, on most credible
authority, that a Bank Director never meets the Old Lady
of Threadneedle Street in the Bank Parlour without in-
stantly rushing up to her, and saying, in the most anxious
manner, “ I hope, my dear Madam, that your rest during
the night has not been in the least disturbed ? ”
The Right Sort of Fenianism.—Its denunciation by
Bishop Feeny.
PUNCH, Oil THE LONDON CHARIVARI.
133
A SHABBY RELATION.
Uncle. “George, hire’s a Beautiful Chromo-Lithograph I’ve just Bought.
Vert Cheap I got ic. Now, I want tour Advice where to Hang it. I was
THINKING-”
George (disgusted). “A Cbromo I Well, op all the Beastlt-Look here,
Uncle ! I should take the Opportunitt when the Cook was in a Good
Humour, and ask her, as a Great Favour, to find a Place for it behind
the Back-Kitchen Door I! ”
[Fact is, George thinks his rich relative had much better spend his Money in
Original Pictures, and in those of one talented young Painter in particular.
CHIVALRY AND THE CUDGEL.
We have to chronicle another instance of the new reading of Blackstone, so
efficiently illustrated of late by both paid and unpaid Magistrates. That eminent
Judge—sometimes Homer nods—was so illogical as to write that the Law regarded
personal safety before that of property. This mistake, excusable in a century
when joint-stock banks, railway scrip, and electro-plate were not, is daily receiving
correction at the hands of London and country Justices. The latest instance is
the following. One William Fletcher, Somerset, farmer, lately made a furious
attack on some girls, who, under the guard of their governess, strayed from a foot-
path to this British farmer’s hedge and picked blackberries. Whereon this
creditable specimen of Zummerset flew at them, and beat two with his stick till
he drove them, shrieking, over a stile, and so off his land. Their necks and
shoulders were covered with bruises and weals. In due time the gallant Fletcher
appeared before the county Magistrates at Bath. The Chairman told him, “No
man, with the feelings of an Englishman, would have behaved in the unmanly
and brutal way he had,” and fined him—forty shillings and costs, such costs to
include a guinea to the young ladies’ solicitor and a guinea to their doctor.
Considering that the 100th chapter of the 24 and 25 Viet., section 43, provides
a maximum of six months imprisonment or twenty pounds fine for an aggravated
assault on women, sentimental sticklers for personal comfort might consider the
Magistrates ridiculously lenient; but if girls run at, one’s blackberry hedge where
is the farmer who wouldn’t run at them with a cudgel, and raise “weals and con-
tusions P ”
Purses and turnips are to be guarded by county Magistrates with great se-
verity, but shins and bones must take risks. Whether we can make the other
Zummerset farmers coincide with us in our sympathy for Mr. Fletcher we don’t
know—but floreat Baculum !
IN VINO VERITAS.
“ I ’ll heat his blood with Greekish wine to-night.”
Troilus and Cressida.
The wines of Greece ! the wines of Greece!
(’Tvvas thus a Shambro’ merchant sung)
It gives the tortured mind no peace,
To think that Britons, old and young,
Their port and sherry can forget,
For Santorin, or Mount Hymett.
The Scian and the Teian Grape,
An English palate seem to suit;
In vain the wine of Spain we ape.
With distillation from the root
Produced in regions of the West:
Folks will maintain the vine is best.
Say, where hath gone the jolly nose,
Compact of colours red and blue.
Which showed by spots like fruit of sloes.
The source to which its tints were due?
Acute and keen, not squat and broad,
Its sharpened nostrils sniff out fraud.
Fill high the vat with Sbambro’ wine 1
We will not think on themes like these;
Let’s call the mixture Sherry fine,
Or any other name they please.
Bebuke not, friends, the buyer’s voice:
W7ho pays his cash should take his choice.
One writer, sure from northern climes,
Maintains that toddy drinks as well;
Another “Taster,” in the Times,
Declares it hath a tallowy smell.
Rise, Porson ! from thy grave, and halloo,
’Tis ou5e rSSe ovSe r&AAo.
Fill high the bowl with Shambro’ wine!
On Brighton’s beach, on Scarbro’s shore;
Exists the gallant landlord line,
Who pile their charges as of yore.
Of their six shillings grant but one,
And Shambro’s fount shall still flow on.
Trust not to vintage of the Franks,
Tho’ pure from Bacchus’ grape it wells;
In northern roots, in northern tanks,
The only hope of profit dwells.
Not thus shall John Bull be beguiled !
Cries Denman fierce and Druitt mild.
Oh, place me on Elbe’s muddy bank.
Where, free from each intruding eye,
Safe I may try each chemic prank,
And keen analysis defy.
Potatoes, wash, and drugs combine,
And smash t.h’ accursed Grecian wine.
Just the Difference.
Mr. Punch was walking the other day in the neigh-
bourhood of Chatham, in company with a distinguished
foreigner, when the latter inquired the meaning of a broad
arrow, which was engraved upon a post. “The Broad
Arrow,” said Mr. Bunch, ever ready to give information;
“ is the distinguishing mark of the Government.” “ And
what, then,” rejoined his friend, “ is that of the Opposi-
tion?” “The Long Bow” instantly replied Mr. Bunch,
handing him a newspaper containing the Conservative
speeches on the results of the recent elections.
CHESTERFIELD IN THE CITY.
The gentlemen in the City are proverbial for their polite-
ness. For instance, we have been informed, on most credible
authority, that a Bank Director never meets the Old Lady
of Threadneedle Street in the Bank Parlour without in-
stantly rushing up to her, and saying, in the most anxious
manner, “ I hope, my dear Madam, that your rest during
the night has not been in the least disturbed ? ”
The Right Sort of Fenianism.—Its denunciation by
Bishop Feeny.