DOI issue:
October 6, 1866
DOI Page / Citation link:https://doi.org/10.11588/diglit.16878#0153
October 6, 1866.]
PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.
145
ARTEMUS WARD IN LONDON.
Mr. Punch, my dear Sir,
It is seldim that the Commercial relations between Great
Britain and the United States is mar’d by Games.
It is Commerce, after all, which will keep the two countries friendly
to’ards each other rather than statesmen.
I look at your last Parliament, and I can’t see that a single speech
was encored during the entire session.
Look at Congress—but no, I’d rather not look at Congress.
Eatertainin this great regard for Commerce, “whose sales whiten
every sea,” as everybody happily observes every chance he gets, I
learn with disgust and. surprise that a British subjeck bo’t a Barril of
Apple Sass in America recently, and when he arrove home he found
under a few deloosiv layers of sass nothin but saw-dust. I should
have instantly gone into the City and called a meetin of the leadin
commercial men to condem and repudiate, as a American, this gross
frawd, if I hadn’t learned at the same time that the draft given by the
British subjeck in payment for this frawdylent sass was drawd onto a
Bankin House in London which doesn’t have a existence, but far
otherwise, and never did.
There is those who larf at these things, but to me they merit rebooks
and frowns.
With the exception of my Uncle Wilyim—who, as I’ve before
•stated, is a uncle by marrige only, who is a low cuss and filled his coat
pockets with pies and biled eggs at his weddin breakfast, given to him
by my father, and made the clergyman as united him a present of.my
father’s new overcoat, and when my father on discoverm it got in a
rage and denounced him, Uncle Wilyim said the old man (meanin
my parent) hadn’t any idee of first-class Humer !—-with the exception
of this wretched Uncle, the escutchin of my fam’ly has never been
stained by Games. The little harmless deceptions I resort to in my
perfesDion I do not call Games. They are sacrifisses to Art.
I come of a very clever fam’ly.
The Wards is a very clever fam’ly, indeed.
I believe we are descendid from the Puritins, who nobly fled from a
land of despitism to a land of freedim, where they could not only enjoy
their own religion, but prevent everybody else from enjoyin his.
As I said before, we are a very clever fam’ly.
I was strollin up Regent Street the other day, thinkin what a dever
fam’ly I come of, and looking at the gay shop-winders. I’ve got some
new close since you last saw me. I saw them others wouldn’t do.
They carrid the observer too far back into the dim vister of the past,
and I gave ’em to a Orfun Asylum. The close 1 wear now I bo’t of
Mr. Moses, in the Commercial Road. They was expressly made, Mr.
Moses informed me, for a nobleman, but as they fitted him too muchly, j
partic’ly the trows’rs (which is blue, with large red and white checks)
he had said, “ My dear feller, make me some more, only mind—be sure
you sell these to some genteel old feller.”
I like to saunter thro’ Regent Street. The shops are pretty, and it
does the old man’s heart good to see the troops of fine healthy girls
which one may always see there at certain hours in the afternoon, who
don’t spile their beauty by devourin cakes and sugar things, as too
many ol the American and French lasses do. It’s a mistake about
everybody being out of town, I guess. Regent Street is full. I’m
here ; and, as I said before, I come of a very clever fam’ly.
As I was walkin along, amoosin myself by stickin my penknife into
the calves of the footmen who stood waitm by the swell-coaches (not!
•one of whom howled with angwish), I was accosted by a man of about
thirty-five summers, who said, “ I have seen that face somewheres
afore! ”
He was a little shabby in his wearin apparil. His coat was one of |
those black, shiny garments, which you can always tell have been bur-
nished by adversity; but he was very gentlemanly.
“ Was it in the Crimea, comrade ? Yes, it was. It was at the
stormin of Sebastopol, where I had a narrow escape from death, that
we met! ”
I said, “ No, I wasn’t at Sebastopol. I escaped a fatal wound by
not bein there. It was a healthy old fortress,” I added.
“ It was. But it fell. It came down with a crash.”
“ And plucky boys they was who brought her down,” I added;
“ and hurrah for ’em! ”
The man graspt me warmly by the hand, and said he had been in
America, Upper Canada, Africa, Asia Minor, and other towns, and
he’d never met a man he liked as much as he did me. “ Let us,” he
added, “let us to the shrme of Bachus !” And he dragged me into
a public-house. I was determined to pay, so I said, “Mr. Bachus,
give this gen’l’man what he calls for.”
We conversed there in a very pleasant manner till my dinner-time
airove, when the agree’ble gentleman insisted that I should dine with
him. “ We’ll have a banquet, Sir, fit for the gods ! ”
I told him good plain vittles would soot me. If the gods wanted to
have the dispepsy, they was welcome to it.
We had soop and fish, and a hot jint, and growsis, and wines of
rare and costly vintige. We had ices, and we had froots from Green-
land’s icymountins and Injy’s coral strands ; and when the sumptoous
reparst was over, the agree’ble man said he’d unfortnitly left his
pocket-book at home on the marble center-table. “But, by Jove ! ”
he said, “it was a feast fit for the gods ! ”
I said, “ Oh, never mind,” and drew out my puss ; tho’ I in’ardly
wished the gods, as the dinner was fit for ’em, was there to pay for it.
I come of a very clever fam’ly.
The agree’ble gentleman then said, “Now, I will show you our Club.
It dates back to the time of William the Conqueror.”
“ Did Bill belong to it ?” I inquired.
“ He did.”
“ Wall,” I said, “if Billy was one of ’em, I need no other endorse-
ment as to its respectfulness, and I ’ll go with you, my gay trooper
boy! ” And we went off arm-in-arm.
On the way the agree’ble man told me that the Club was called the
Sloshers. He said I would notice that none of ’em appeared in evenin
dress. He said it was agin the rools of the club. In fack, if any
member appeared there in evenin dress he’d be instantly expeld.
“ And yit,” he added,_“ there’s geneyus there, and lorfty emotions, and
intellect You ’ll be' surprised at the quantities of intelleck you ’ll
see there.”
We reached the Sloshers in due time, and I must say they was a
shaky-lookin lot, and the public house where they convened was cer-
tingly none of the best.
The Sloshers crowded round me, and said I was welcome. “ What
a beautiful brestpin you’ve got,” said one of ’em. “Permit me,” and
he took it out of my neckercher. “Isn’t it luvly,” he said, parsin it
to another, who parsed it to another. It was given me by my Aunt,
on my promisin her I’d never swear profanely; and I never have,
except on very special occasions. I see that beautiful boosum pin a
parsin from one Slosher to another, and I’m reminded of them sad
words of the poit, “parsin away! parsin away ! ” I never saw it no
more. Then in comes a athletic female, who no sooner sees me than
she utters a wild yell, and cries :—
“At larst! at larst! My Wilyim, from the seas ! ”
I said, “Not at all, Marm. Not on no account. I have heard
the boatswain pipe to quarters—but a voice in my heart didn’t whisper
Seu-zan ! I’ve belayed the marlinspikes on the upper jibpoop, but
Seu-zan’s eyes wasn’t on me, much. Young woman, I am not you’re
Saler boy. Far different.”
“ Oh yes, you are ! ” she howled, seizin me round the neck. “ Oh,
how I’ve lookt forwards to this meetin! ”
“ And you’ll presently,” I said, “have a opportunity of lookin
backwards to it, because I’m on the pint of leavin this institution.”
I will here observe that I come of a very clever fam’ly. A very
clever fam’ly, indeed.
“ Where,” I cried, as I struggled in vain to release myself from the
eccentric female’s claws, “ where is the Capting—the man who was
into the Crimea, amidst the cannon’s thunder r I want him.”
He came forward, and cried, “ Wbat do I see ? Me Sister ! me
sweet Adulaide ! and in teers ! Willin! ” he screamed, “ and you ’re
the serpent as I took to my boosum, aud borrowed money of, and went
round with, and was cheerful with, are you ?—You ought to be ashamed
of yourself.”
Somehow my coat was jerked off, the brest-pocket of which con-
tained my pocket-book, and it parsed away like the brestpin. Then
they sorter quietly hustled me into the street.
It was about 12 at night when I reached the Greenlion.
“ Ha! ha ! you sly old rascal, you’ve been up to larks ! ” said the
lan’lord, larfin loudly, and digging his fist into my ribs.
I said, “ Bigsby, if you do that agin, I shall hit you! Mucli as I
respect you and your excellent fam’ly, I shall disfigger your benever-
lent countenance for life ! ”
“ What has ruffled your spirits, frend ? ” said the lan’lord.
“ My spirits has been ruffled,” I ansered in a bittur voice, “ by a
viper who was into the Crimea. What good was it,” I cried, “ for
Sebastopol to fall down without enwelopin in its rooins that viper ? ”
I then went to bed. I come of a very clever fam’ly.
Artemus Ward.
Report of a very Simla Case to Taffy’s
(In the Nursery R^yme.)
Jervis was the aide-de-camp.
Of a shabby chief,
Jervis ruled Sir W. M.’s
Pickles, mutton, beef:
Sir W. called Jervis “ chouse ; ”
Jervis held his own;
Sir W. court-martialled him,—
He’d best left that alone.
Scientieic Intelligence.'—At the next Meeting of the Zoological
Society a paper will be read “ On the Tears of the Crocodile.”
PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.
145
ARTEMUS WARD IN LONDON.
Mr. Punch, my dear Sir,
It is seldim that the Commercial relations between Great
Britain and the United States is mar’d by Games.
It is Commerce, after all, which will keep the two countries friendly
to’ards each other rather than statesmen.
I look at your last Parliament, and I can’t see that a single speech
was encored during the entire session.
Look at Congress—but no, I’d rather not look at Congress.
Eatertainin this great regard for Commerce, “whose sales whiten
every sea,” as everybody happily observes every chance he gets, I
learn with disgust and. surprise that a British subjeck bo’t a Barril of
Apple Sass in America recently, and when he arrove home he found
under a few deloosiv layers of sass nothin but saw-dust. I should
have instantly gone into the City and called a meetin of the leadin
commercial men to condem and repudiate, as a American, this gross
frawd, if I hadn’t learned at the same time that the draft given by the
British subjeck in payment for this frawdylent sass was drawd onto a
Bankin House in London which doesn’t have a existence, but far
otherwise, and never did.
There is those who larf at these things, but to me they merit rebooks
and frowns.
With the exception of my Uncle Wilyim—who, as I’ve before
•stated, is a uncle by marrige only, who is a low cuss and filled his coat
pockets with pies and biled eggs at his weddin breakfast, given to him
by my father, and made the clergyman as united him a present of.my
father’s new overcoat, and when my father on discoverm it got in a
rage and denounced him, Uncle Wilyim said the old man (meanin
my parent) hadn’t any idee of first-class Humer !—-with the exception
of this wretched Uncle, the escutchin of my fam’ly has never been
stained by Games. The little harmless deceptions I resort to in my
perfesDion I do not call Games. They are sacrifisses to Art.
I come of a very clever fam’ly.
The Wards is a very clever fam’ly, indeed.
I believe we are descendid from the Puritins, who nobly fled from a
land of despitism to a land of freedim, where they could not only enjoy
their own religion, but prevent everybody else from enjoyin his.
As I said before, we are a very clever fam’ly.
I was strollin up Regent Street the other day, thinkin what a dever
fam’ly I come of, and looking at the gay shop-winders. I’ve got some
new close since you last saw me. I saw them others wouldn’t do.
They carrid the observer too far back into the dim vister of the past,
and I gave ’em to a Orfun Asylum. The close 1 wear now I bo’t of
Mr. Moses, in the Commercial Road. They was expressly made, Mr.
Moses informed me, for a nobleman, but as they fitted him too muchly, j
partic’ly the trows’rs (which is blue, with large red and white checks)
he had said, “ My dear feller, make me some more, only mind—be sure
you sell these to some genteel old feller.”
I like to saunter thro’ Regent Street. The shops are pretty, and it
does the old man’s heart good to see the troops of fine healthy girls
which one may always see there at certain hours in the afternoon, who
don’t spile their beauty by devourin cakes and sugar things, as too
many ol the American and French lasses do. It’s a mistake about
everybody being out of town, I guess. Regent Street is full. I’m
here ; and, as I said before, I come of a very clever fam’ly.
As I was walkin along, amoosin myself by stickin my penknife into
the calves of the footmen who stood waitm by the swell-coaches (not!
•one of whom howled with angwish), I was accosted by a man of about
thirty-five summers, who said, “ I have seen that face somewheres
afore! ”
He was a little shabby in his wearin apparil. His coat was one of |
those black, shiny garments, which you can always tell have been bur-
nished by adversity; but he was very gentlemanly.
“ Was it in the Crimea, comrade ? Yes, it was. It was at the
stormin of Sebastopol, where I had a narrow escape from death, that
we met! ”
I said, “ No, I wasn’t at Sebastopol. I escaped a fatal wound by
not bein there. It was a healthy old fortress,” I added.
“ It was. But it fell. It came down with a crash.”
“ And plucky boys they was who brought her down,” I added;
“ and hurrah for ’em! ”
The man graspt me warmly by the hand, and said he had been in
America, Upper Canada, Africa, Asia Minor, and other towns, and
he’d never met a man he liked as much as he did me. “ Let us,” he
added, “let us to the shrme of Bachus !” And he dragged me into
a public-house. I was determined to pay, so I said, “Mr. Bachus,
give this gen’l’man what he calls for.”
We conversed there in a very pleasant manner till my dinner-time
airove, when the agree’ble gentleman insisted that I should dine with
him. “ We’ll have a banquet, Sir, fit for the gods ! ”
I told him good plain vittles would soot me. If the gods wanted to
have the dispepsy, they was welcome to it.
We had soop and fish, and a hot jint, and growsis, and wines of
rare and costly vintige. We had ices, and we had froots from Green-
land’s icymountins and Injy’s coral strands ; and when the sumptoous
reparst was over, the agree’ble man said he’d unfortnitly left his
pocket-book at home on the marble center-table. “But, by Jove ! ”
he said, “it was a feast fit for the gods ! ”
I said, “ Oh, never mind,” and drew out my puss ; tho’ I in’ardly
wished the gods, as the dinner was fit for ’em, was there to pay for it.
I come of a very clever fam’ly.
The agree’ble gentleman then said, “Now, I will show you our Club.
It dates back to the time of William the Conqueror.”
“ Did Bill belong to it ?” I inquired.
“ He did.”
“ Wall,” I said, “if Billy was one of ’em, I need no other endorse-
ment as to its respectfulness, and I ’ll go with you, my gay trooper
boy! ” And we went off arm-in-arm.
On the way the agree’ble man told me that the Club was called the
Sloshers. He said I would notice that none of ’em appeared in evenin
dress. He said it was agin the rools of the club. In fack, if any
member appeared there in evenin dress he’d be instantly expeld.
“ And yit,” he added,_“ there’s geneyus there, and lorfty emotions, and
intellect You ’ll be' surprised at the quantities of intelleck you ’ll
see there.”
We reached the Sloshers in due time, and I must say they was a
shaky-lookin lot, and the public house where they convened was cer-
tingly none of the best.
The Sloshers crowded round me, and said I was welcome. “ What
a beautiful brestpin you’ve got,” said one of ’em. “Permit me,” and
he took it out of my neckercher. “Isn’t it luvly,” he said, parsin it
to another, who parsed it to another. It was given me by my Aunt,
on my promisin her I’d never swear profanely; and I never have,
except on very special occasions. I see that beautiful boosum pin a
parsin from one Slosher to another, and I’m reminded of them sad
words of the poit, “parsin away! parsin away ! ” I never saw it no
more. Then in comes a athletic female, who no sooner sees me than
she utters a wild yell, and cries :—
“At larst! at larst! My Wilyim, from the seas ! ”
I said, “Not at all, Marm. Not on no account. I have heard
the boatswain pipe to quarters—but a voice in my heart didn’t whisper
Seu-zan ! I’ve belayed the marlinspikes on the upper jibpoop, but
Seu-zan’s eyes wasn’t on me, much. Young woman, I am not you’re
Saler boy. Far different.”
“ Oh yes, you are ! ” she howled, seizin me round the neck. “ Oh,
how I’ve lookt forwards to this meetin! ”
“ And you’ll presently,” I said, “have a opportunity of lookin
backwards to it, because I’m on the pint of leavin this institution.”
I will here observe that I come of a very clever fam’ly. A very
clever fam’ly, indeed.
“ Where,” I cried, as I struggled in vain to release myself from the
eccentric female’s claws, “ where is the Capting—the man who was
into the Crimea, amidst the cannon’s thunder r I want him.”
He came forward, and cried, “ Wbat do I see ? Me Sister ! me
sweet Adulaide ! and in teers ! Willin! ” he screamed, “ and you ’re
the serpent as I took to my boosum, aud borrowed money of, and went
round with, and was cheerful with, are you ?—You ought to be ashamed
of yourself.”
Somehow my coat was jerked off, the brest-pocket of which con-
tained my pocket-book, and it parsed away like the brestpin. Then
they sorter quietly hustled me into the street.
It was about 12 at night when I reached the Greenlion.
“ Ha! ha ! you sly old rascal, you’ve been up to larks ! ” said the
lan’lord, larfin loudly, and digging his fist into my ribs.
I said, “ Bigsby, if you do that agin, I shall hit you! Mucli as I
respect you and your excellent fam’ly, I shall disfigger your benever-
lent countenance for life ! ”
“ What has ruffled your spirits, frend ? ” said the lan’lord.
“ My spirits has been ruffled,” I ansered in a bittur voice, “ by a
viper who was into the Crimea. What good was it,” I cried, “ for
Sebastopol to fall down without enwelopin in its rooins that viper ? ”
I then went to bed. I come of a very clever fam’ly.
Artemus Ward.
Report of a very Simla Case to Taffy’s
(In the Nursery R^yme.)
Jervis was the aide-de-camp.
Of a shabby chief,
Jervis ruled Sir W. M.’s
Pickles, mutton, beef:
Sir W. called Jervis “ chouse ; ”
Jervis held his own;
Sir W. court-martialled him,—
He’d best left that alone.
Scientieic Intelligence.'—At the next Meeting of the Zoological
Society a paper will be read “ On the Tears of the Crocodile.”