DOI Heft:
January 19, 1867
DOI Seite / Zitierlink:https://doi.org/10.11588/diglit.16879#0037
January 19, 1867.] PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.
asks me, “If I’d like to look at the last trick.” As this will give
me time, and them the idea that I am following out my own peculiar
tactics, I embrace the offer. Childers displays the last trick: I look
at it. I say, “ Thank you,” and he shuts it up again. Immediately
afterwards I can’t recollect what the cards were in that trick: if I did,
it wouldn’t help me. They are becoming impatient.
About this time somebody’s Queen of Diamonds is taken. I wasn’t
( watching how the trick went, but I am almost certain it was fatal to
the Queen of Diamonds : that’s to say, if it was the Queen of Diamonds;
but I don’t like to ask. The next trick, which is something in spades,
trumped by Englefield, I pass as of not much importance. Stenton
frowls, “ Didn’t I see that he’d got no more spades in his hand.”
To, I own, I didn’t. Stenton, who is not an encouraging partner,
grunts to himself. In a subsequent round, I having lost a trick by
leading spades, Stenton cries out, “ Why didn’t you see they were
trumping spades F ” I defend myself; I say I did see him, Englefield,
trump one spade, but I thought that he hadn’t any more trumps. I say
j this as if I’d been reckoning the cards as they’ve been played.
Happy Thought— Try to reckon them, and play by system next
rubber.
I keep my trumps back till the last; they ’ll come out and astonish
them. They do come out, and astonish me. Being taken by surprise,
I put on my king when I ought to have played the knave, and both
surrender to the ace and queen. Isay, “Dear me, how odd!” I
think I hear Stenton saying sarcastically in an undertone, “ Oh, yes ;
confoundedly odd.” I try to explain, and he interrupts me at the end
of the last deal but two by saying testily,/' It’s no use talking, if you
attend, we may just save the odd.”
My friend, the Queen of Diamonds, who, I thought, had been played,
and taken by some one or other at a very early period of the game,
suddenly re-appears out of my partner’s hand, as if she was part of a
| conjuring trick. Second hanu can’t follow suit and can’t trump. I
! think I see what he intends me to do here. I’ve a trump and a
small club. “ When in doubt,” I recollect the infallible rule, “play a
I trump.” I don’t think anyone expected this trump. Good play.
Happy Thought.—Trump. I look up diffidently; my partner laughs,
: so do the others. My partner’s is not a pleasant laugh. I can’t
help asking, “Why? isn’t that right: it’s ours?” “Oh, yes,” says
my partner, sarcastically, “it is ours.” “ Only,” explains little Bob
i Englefield, “ You’ve trumped your partner’s best card.”
I try again to explain that by my computation the Queen of Diamonds
had been played a long time ago. My partner won’t listen to reason.
He replies, “ You might have seen that it wasn’t.” I return, “ Well,
it couldn’t be helped, we’ll win the game yet.” This I add to en-
courage him, though, if it depends on me, I honestly (to myself) don’t
think we shall. After all, we do get the odd trick. Stenton ought to
be in a better humour, but he isn’t; he says “the odd, we ought to
have been three.” Englefield asks me how Honours are ? I don’t
know. Stenton says, “ Why you (meaning me) had two in your own
hand.” “ Oh, yes, I had.” I’d forgotten it. “ Honours easy,” says
Stenton to me. I agree with him. Now I’ve got to score with this
confounded shilling, sixpence, half-crown, and a candlestick.
Happy Thought.—Ask Bob Englefield how he scores, generally.
He replies, “ Oh, the usual way,” and as he doesn’t illustrate his
meaning, his reply is of no use to me whatever. How can I find out
| without showing them that I don’t know.
Happy Thought {while Childers deals).—Pretend to forget to score
till next time. Englefield will have to do it, perhaps, next time, then
watch Englefield. Just as I’m arranging my cards from right to
left-
Happy Thought.—To alternate the colours black and red, beginning
this time with black (right) as spades are trumps. Also to arrange
them in their rank and order of precedence. Ace on the right, if I’ve
| got one— yes—king next, queen next—and the hand begins to look
very pretty. I can quite imagine Whist being a fascinating game-
Stenton reminds me that I’ve forgotten to mark one up.
Happy Thought.—Put sixpence by itself on my left hand. Stenton
j asks what’s that for ?
Happy Thought.—To say it’s the way I always mark.
Stenton says, “ Oh, go on.” I look round to see what we ’re wait-
j ing for, and Englefield answers me, “ Go on, it’s you ; you ’re first
i hand.” I beg their pardon. I must play some card or other and finish
arranging my hand during the round. Anything will do to begin
with. Plere’s a Two of Spades, a little one, on my left hand; throw
him out.
“ Hallo ! ” cries Englefield, second hand, “trumps are coming out
early.” I quite forgot spades were trumps; that comes of that horrid
| little card being on the left instead of the right.
Happy 'Thought.—Not to show my mistake : nod at Englefield,
; and intimate that “ He ’ll see what’s coming.” So, by the way, will
j my partner. In a polite moment I accept another cup of tea. I don’t
want it, and have to put it by the half-crown, shilling, and candlestick
on the whist-table, where I’m afraid of knocking it over, and am
obliged to let it get quite cold as I have to attend to the game.
Happening to be taking a spoonful, with my eyes anxiously on the
cards, when my turn comes, Stenton says, “ Bo play, never mind
your tea.” Whist brutalises Stenton : what a pity !
Happy Thought.—Send this game, as a problem, to a Sporting paper.
Happy Thought.—Why not write generally for Sporting papers ?
Stenton says, “ Bo play ! ” I do.
PAROCHIAL COLLECTIVE WISDOM.
“ Naming Pauper Children.—The Guardians of one of our metropolitan Parishes
the other day, having to settle the transference of some pauper children from one
industrial school to another, met with two girls chargeable to the parish, named
‘ Mary Unknown ’ and ‘ Polly Pancras,’ and it was proposed to change these
names to the same as those borne by the Churchwardens or some of the Guardians,
but as this was opposed on the ground that some people might look upon the matter
in an uncharitable light, it was therefore resolved, after a long discussion, that
the names of the girls should be changed to ‘ Marv Smith ’ and ‘ Polly Jones.’ ”—
Pall-Mall Gazette.
Scene—The Board-Room of a Metropolitan Union. Board of Guardians
and Chairman.
Chairman. Well, gentlemen, now we’ve a’most got through our
bisniss. There’s only them two gals.
Is# Guardian. What two gals ?
Chairman. What’s to be removed from the hunder to the hupper
industrial school. Their names is—let me see {puts on his spectacles)
Mari Unknown and Polly Pancras.
2nd Guardian. Rummish names.
3rd Guardian. Why, yes, they do sound rayther queer. Who gave
’em their names ?
2nd Guardian. Their godfathers and godmothers in their baptism—
which-
Chairman. Was the Beadle and the Matron, I fancy. Unknown
and Pancras ! Them was the Beadle’s suggestions, I ’ll be bound.
Shows deficiency in the inventive faculty, great want of imagination on
the part of the Beadle.
1th Guardian. The poor gals will be chaffed about their names to
death as long as they live. (.Laughter.)
3rd Guardian. Mr. Chairman, I rise to order. It’s irregular for any
honourable member of this here board to talk Irish. {Order, order,
and cheers.)
1th Guardian. You be blowed !
Chairman. Bisniss, gentlemen, bisniss. Fugit tempus. Them names
had better be altered.
1st Guardian. They can’t.
Chairman. Not the Christian names ; no, but the sur. Wasn’t the
feller as was named James Bug allowed to call his self Norfolk
Howard ?
2nd Guardian. Yes, to be sure; and bugs have been called Howards,
ever since.
3rd Guardian. Well then, what shall we name ’em?
1th Guardian. Call ’em Pugh and Hassock, arter the Church-
wardens.
Chairman. Humph! Pugh and Hassock isn’t here. P’raps they
mightn’t like it.
%rd Guardian. Suppose we names one on ’em arter Mr. Chairman ?
Chairman. Werry much obliged to the honourable member for his-
proposal, but it’s a compliment I’d rayther decline. Would he like
e’er a one of ’em to be named arter his self ?
Is# Guardian. There’s no knowin what ill-natur’d persons might say.
2nd Guardian. Certainly, certainly; no doubt. If the gals was
named arter any of the Guardians, ’twould werry likely give rise to
invidjus remarks.
Is# Guardian. Couldn’t we call ’em arter the day they was born upon,
like what ’s-his-name—Robison Crucer—did Man Friday ?
Chairman. We don’t know the day of their births, and there’s no
time to inquire. Besides, Saturday, Sunday, or Monday, or Tuesday,
or Wednesday, would be as bad as either Unknown or Pancras. And
hang it, we might as well be original.
Is# Guardian. What do you propose yourself, then ?
Chairman. Well, that’s a question as requires some thought. Yer
see, it wouldn’t do to give ’em too pompous igh soundin names, un-
sooted to their station in life. Then, if we gives ’em names of the
ornary kind, it might, as the honourable member justly said, cause
invidjus observations, unless we gave ’em the werry commonest oi all.
But if we does that, then we can’t give no handle and no offence, to
nobody. So upon the whole, and lookin at it altogether, my opmion
is, that the best thing as we can do is for to call ’em Mary Smith and
Polly Jones. There is too many Smiths and Joneses in the world
for it to signify who may be named Smith or Jones. Them that ’s lor
Mary Smith and Polly Jones, old up yer ands. {All hands held up)
Chairman. Carried unanimous. So much for that. And now, gen-
tlemen, our evenin’s bisniss bein concluded, I will, with your kind
permission, wacate the chair. [Scene closes.
Where Carpenters ought to Live.—Filey and Chiselhurst.
asks me, “If I’d like to look at the last trick.” As this will give
me time, and them the idea that I am following out my own peculiar
tactics, I embrace the offer. Childers displays the last trick: I look
at it. I say, “ Thank you,” and he shuts it up again. Immediately
afterwards I can’t recollect what the cards were in that trick: if I did,
it wouldn’t help me. They are becoming impatient.
About this time somebody’s Queen of Diamonds is taken. I wasn’t
( watching how the trick went, but I am almost certain it was fatal to
the Queen of Diamonds : that’s to say, if it was the Queen of Diamonds;
but I don’t like to ask. The next trick, which is something in spades,
trumped by Englefield, I pass as of not much importance. Stenton
frowls, “ Didn’t I see that he’d got no more spades in his hand.”
To, I own, I didn’t. Stenton, who is not an encouraging partner,
grunts to himself. In a subsequent round, I having lost a trick by
leading spades, Stenton cries out, “ Why didn’t you see they were
trumping spades F ” I defend myself; I say I did see him, Englefield,
trump one spade, but I thought that he hadn’t any more trumps. I say
j this as if I’d been reckoning the cards as they’ve been played.
Happy Thought— Try to reckon them, and play by system next
rubber.
I keep my trumps back till the last; they ’ll come out and astonish
them. They do come out, and astonish me. Being taken by surprise,
I put on my king when I ought to have played the knave, and both
surrender to the ace and queen. Isay, “Dear me, how odd!” I
think I hear Stenton saying sarcastically in an undertone, “ Oh, yes ;
confoundedly odd.” I try to explain, and he interrupts me at the end
of the last deal but two by saying testily,/' It’s no use talking, if you
attend, we may just save the odd.”
My friend, the Queen of Diamonds, who, I thought, had been played,
and taken by some one or other at a very early period of the game,
suddenly re-appears out of my partner’s hand, as if she was part of a
| conjuring trick. Second hanu can’t follow suit and can’t trump. I
! think I see what he intends me to do here. I’ve a trump and a
small club. “ When in doubt,” I recollect the infallible rule, “play a
I trump.” I don’t think anyone expected this trump. Good play.
Happy Thought.—Trump. I look up diffidently; my partner laughs,
: so do the others. My partner’s is not a pleasant laugh. I can’t
help asking, “Why? isn’t that right: it’s ours?” “Oh, yes,” says
my partner, sarcastically, “it is ours.” “ Only,” explains little Bob
i Englefield, “ You’ve trumped your partner’s best card.”
I try again to explain that by my computation the Queen of Diamonds
had been played a long time ago. My partner won’t listen to reason.
He replies, “ You might have seen that it wasn’t.” I return, “ Well,
it couldn’t be helped, we’ll win the game yet.” This I add to en-
courage him, though, if it depends on me, I honestly (to myself) don’t
think we shall. After all, we do get the odd trick. Stenton ought to
be in a better humour, but he isn’t; he says “the odd, we ought to
have been three.” Englefield asks me how Honours are ? I don’t
know. Stenton says, “ Why you (meaning me) had two in your own
hand.” “ Oh, yes, I had.” I’d forgotten it. “ Honours easy,” says
Stenton to me. I agree with him. Now I’ve got to score with this
confounded shilling, sixpence, half-crown, and a candlestick.
Happy Thought.—Ask Bob Englefield how he scores, generally.
He replies, “ Oh, the usual way,” and as he doesn’t illustrate his
meaning, his reply is of no use to me whatever. How can I find out
| without showing them that I don’t know.
Happy Thought {while Childers deals).—Pretend to forget to score
till next time. Englefield will have to do it, perhaps, next time, then
watch Englefield. Just as I’m arranging my cards from right to
left-
Happy Thought.—To alternate the colours black and red, beginning
this time with black (right) as spades are trumps. Also to arrange
them in their rank and order of precedence. Ace on the right, if I’ve
| got one— yes—king next, queen next—and the hand begins to look
very pretty. I can quite imagine Whist being a fascinating game-
Stenton reminds me that I’ve forgotten to mark one up.
Happy Thought.—Put sixpence by itself on my left hand. Stenton
j asks what’s that for ?
Happy Thought.—To say it’s the way I always mark.
Stenton says, “ Oh, go on.” I look round to see what we ’re wait-
j ing for, and Englefield answers me, “ Go on, it’s you ; you ’re first
i hand.” I beg their pardon. I must play some card or other and finish
arranging my hand during the round. Anything will do to begin
with. Plere’s a Two of Spades, a little one, on my left hand; throw
him out.
“ Hallo ! ” cries Englefield, second hand, “trumps are coming out
early.” I quite forgot spades were trumps; that comes of that horrid
| little card being on the left instead of the right.
Happy 'Thought.—Not to show my mistake : nod at Englefield,
; and intimate that “ He ’ll see what’s coming.” So, by the way, will
j my partner. In a polite moment I accept another cup of tea. I don’t
want it, and have to put it by the half-crown, shilling, and candlestick
on the whist-table, where I’m afraid of knocking it over, and am
obliged to let it get quite cold as I have to attend to the game.
Happening to be taking a spoonful, with my eyes anxiously on the
cards, when my turn comes, Stenton says, “ Bo play, never mind
your tea.” Whist brutalises Stenton : what a pity !
Happy Thought.—Send this game, as a problem, to a Sporting paper.
Happy Thought.—Why not write generally for Sporting papers ?
Stenton says, “ Bo play ! ” I do.
PAROCHIAL COLLECTIVE WISDOM.
“ Naming Pauper Children.—The Guardians of one of our metropolitan Parishes
the other day, having to settle the transference of some pauper children from one
industrial school to another, met with two girls chargeable to the parish, named
‘ Mary Unknown ’ and ‘ Polly Pancras,’ and it was proposed to change these
names to the same as those borne by the Churchwardens or some of the Guardians,
but as this was opposed on the ground that some people might look upon the matter
in an uncharitable light, it was therefore resolved, after a long discussion, that
the names of the girls should be changed to ‘ Marv Smith ’ and ‘ Polly Jones.’ ”—
Pall-Mall Gazette.
Scene—The Board-Room of a Metropolitan Union. Board of Guardians
and Chairman.
Chairman. Well, gentlemen, now we’ve a’most got through our
bisniss. There’s only them two gals.
Is# Guardian. What two gals ?
Chairman. What’s to be removed from the hunder to the hupper
industrial school. Their names is—let me see {puts on his spectacles)
Mari Unknown and Polly Pancras.
2nd Guardian. Rummish names.
3rd Guardian. Why, yes, they do sound rayther queer. Who gave
’em their names ?
2nd Guardian. Their godfathers and godmothers in their baptism—
which-
Chairman. Was the Beadle and the Matron, I fancy. Unknown
and Pancras ! Them was the Beadle’s suggestions, I ’ll be bound.
Shows deficiency in the inventive faculty, great want of imagination on
the part of the Beadle.
1th Guardian. The poor gals will be chaffed about their names to
death as long as they live. (.Laughter.)
3rd Guardian. Mr. Chairman, I rise to order. It’s irregular for any
honourable member of this here board to talk Irish. {Order, order,
and cheers.)
1th Guardian. You be blowed !
Chairman. Bisniss, gentlemen, bisniss. Fugit tempus. Them names
had better be altered.
1st Guardian. They can’t.
Chairman. Not the Christian names ; no, but the sur. Wasn’t the
feller as was named James Bug allowed to call his self Norfolk
Howard ?
2nd Guardian. Yes, to be sure; and bugs have been called Howards,
ever since.
3rd Guardian. Well then, what shall we name ’em?
1th Guardian. Call ’em Pugh and Hassock, arter the Church-
wardens.
Chairman. Humph! Pugh and Hassock isn’t here. P’raps they
mightn’t like it.
%rd Guardian. Suppose we names one on ’em arter Mr. Chairman ?
Chairman. Werry much obliged to the honourable member for his-
proposal, but it’s a compliment I’d rayther decline. Would he like
e’er a one of ’em to be named arter his self ?
Is# Guardian. There’s no knowin what ill-natur’d persons might say.
2nd Guardian. Certainly, certainly; no doubt. If the gals was
named arter any of the Guardians, ’twould werry likely give rise to
invidjus remarks.
Is# Guardian. Couldn’t we call ’em arter the day they was born upon,
like what ’s-his-name—Robison Crucer—did Man Friday ?
Chairman. We don’t know the day of their births, and there’s no
time to inquire. Besides, Saturday, Sunday, or Monday, or Tuesday,
or Wednesday, would be as bad as either Unknown or Pancras. And
hang it, we might as well be original.
Is# Guardian. What do you propose yourself, then ?
Chairman. Well, that’s a question as requires some thought. Yer
see, it wouldn’t do to give ’em too pompous igh soundin names, un-
sooted to their station in life. Then, if we gives ’em names of the
ornary kind, it might, as the honourable member justly said, cause
invidjus observations, unless we gave ’em the werry commonest oi all.
But if we does that, then we can’t give no handle and no offence, to
nobody. So upon the whole, and lookin at it altogether, my opmion
is, that the best thing as we can do is for to call ’em Mary Smith and
Polly Jones. There is too many Smiths and Joneses in the world
for it to signify who may be named Smith or Jones. Them that ’s lor
Mary Smith and Polly Jones, old up yer ands. {All hands held up)
Chairman. Carried unanimous. So much for that. And now, gen-
tlemen, our evenin’s bisniss bein concluded, I will, with your kind
permission, wacate the chair. [Scene closes.
Where Carpenters ought to Live.—Filey and Chiselhurst.