DOI issue:
August 17, 1867
DOI Page / Citation link:https://doi.org/10.11588/diglit.16880#0081
August 17, 1867.]
69
PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.
WISHES.
ne night a fairy visited me.
1 am generally wide awake,
but was asleep then. She
touched me with her wand.
What would IF 1 would
a wishmg-cap. (Having in
my mind’s-eye that of For-
tunatus.) No more ? No
more. My request was
granted. I possess a wish-
in g-cap. Alas! I had for-
gotten to ask that my
wishes should invariably be
realised. I wish all day.
Whisht! botheration ! I
note down some of my
wishes
Wish when I’m going
to catch a train, that I could
get a fast cab.
Wish my umbrella
wouldn’t wear out so
quickly.
Wish I could dance the new waltz step. She can—with somebody
ds6.
Wish I hadn’t told the lady of the house that I should be very happy
to be introduced. (Miss Gawky.)
Wish I could fight as well as the Champion of England for the sake
of cabmen.
Wish boots were never new.
Wish old women wouldn’t get in the way. (Driving or walking)
Wish I could pack my portmanteau without leaving something
behind.
Wish they’d alter the stalls at most theatres.
Wish there were no sermons of more than twenty minutes’ duration.
Wish the organ-men would understand me when I say there’s some
one ill in the house.
Wish I could see a policeman.
Wish I’d brought out my latch-key (when I haven’t). Wish I had
no relations except pretty cousins in carriages. Wish my uncle was
like the uncle in farces, who says, “ Take her, you dog, and (turning to
grip the bailiff) as to that matter (meaning some few thousand pounds
worth of debts), why—why—hang it! I’ 11 settle it.” (Bailiff touches his
hat, and retires to the back of the stage.)
Wish the Loveliest Woman ever seen would ask some one what my
name is, or would send a footman. [I know a long story about an
opera-box, lovely woman, footman sent, carriage, blindfolded, supper,
private chaplain, secret history, mystery, never again—wish all this,
without the blindfolding.]
Wish that Someone, quite unknown and therefore not to be regretted,
would leave me £4000 per annum, or say £5000.
Wish that on my breakfast-table one morning I could find a note
announcing this, suddenly—£5000 per annum. Wish I may get it.
Yours, Eortunatus Junior.
"GENTLEMEN, LOOK OUT!”
“ At times the jupe itself even is caught up on each side as high as the waist
d la camargo, and is secured with piquant-looking braces, which, after being crossed
behind the back, fasten at the shoulders with smart rosettes.”
They have appropriated our jackets, they have invested in our
waistcoats, and now they are shouldering our braces. (How can
braoes be “ piquant ? ”) But one article is left to us—the “ residuum ”
of manly attire ; and a beautifully coloured engraving of that—we say
it with inexpressible sorrow—we trow, Sirs, you will shortly see in the
ladies’ fashion-books.
Very “ Poor Players.”
The “ Distinguished Amateurs ” announced that in consequence of
their " great success ” at the Holborn Theatre, their performances
would be repeated at the St. James’s. If this is their great success
what must their failure be ! Too awful to contemplate! We should
like to see their salary list, and account of expenses for the two weeks.
Blessed is the Beneficent Society if it expects nothing, assuredly it
shall not be disappointed.
AWFUL SWELLISM.
1st Swell. Haw—What d’ ya think a’ th’ division on th’ Simla Court
Martial ?
2nd Swell. Neva knew a sim’la disgrace.
A RAILWAY LEGEND.
As I walked forth, with roving eye,
And desultory tread,
A taxed-cart I observed, hard by
A certain broker’s shed.
Past days that vehicle recalled.
Upon its back, behold,
In characters of chalk was scrawled
The notice, “ To Be Sold.”
In life’s bright morning that hath been,
^And can return no more;
Upon a doctor’s carriage, seen
In waiting at a door.
To vex the minister of health
Intent, in idle game.
With frolic hand how oft, by stealth,
Used we to write the same.
Thou humble, but commodious cart.
Thine owner, who was he ?
Thought I, and wherefore did he part,
Prom choice, or need, with thee ?
Perhaps he was some tradesman small.
Who fondly did invest ,
In rotten shares, and lose his all,
Sold up, and dispossessed.
As thus I mused, the screech of steam
Came wafted on the gale ;
And, distant as that warning scream.
The thunder of the rail.
What ships have struck on yonder rock !
The sentiment was mine ;
How glad I am I hold no stock
Of that insolvent line !
But, if the mountain of its debt
Were only cleared away;
Its sharers might be happy yet—
No doubt that it would pay.
And money meanwhile idle lies,
A drug at two per cent. !
That taxed-cart might instruct the wise
How cash might well be spent.
As creditors, when small men fail.
Their goods and chattels sell:
Just so they might put up for sale,
Great companies’ as well.
Yon bankrupt line whilst banks contain,
To buy, sufficient gold,
Chalk every carriage in each train
Thereof, with “ To Be Sold.”
HYGEIA AND HYMEN.
Doctor Stark, the Scotch Registrar-General, has published a
report, containing some statistics by which he considers it to be
proved “ that bachelorhood is more destructive to life than the most
unwholesome trades, or than residence in an unhealthy house or dis-
trict where there has never been the most distant attempt at sanitary
improvements of any kind.” There are jolly bachelors who will be
convinced by the extremely strong language of this statement that
Dr. Stark is stark mad on the subject of statistics. But it may be
that he speaks the words of truth and sanity. The terrible destruc-
tiveness of bachelorship is easily accounted for. No cause more
powerfully tends to shorten life than excess in eating and drinking.
Nobody can deny the proverb that what is enough for one is enough
for two. It is still more certain that what is enough for two is too
much for one. The generality of bachelors eat and drink as much as
they can alford. When they marry they are obliged, for economy’s
sake, to share their meals with their wives. Hence, as husbands, they
consume half the quantity that they ate and drank when they were
single. Health and longevity result from the moderation of which the
necessity is imposed on the great majority of men by marriage.
Notice of Question.
Mr. Whalley will interrupt the last Act of the Reform Drama to
ask the Home Secretary whether he is aware that large coloured
bills were posted all over London, announcing that “ a Mass Meeting ”
would be held in Hyde Park on the 5th inst.
69
PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.
WISHES.
ne night a fairy visited me.
1 am generally wide awake,
but was asleep then. She
touched me with her wand.
What would IF 1 would
a wishmg-cap. (Having in
my mind’s-eye that of For-
tunatus.) No more ? No
more. My request was
granted. I possess a wish-
in g-cap. Alas! I had for-
gotten to ask that my
wishes should invariably be
realised. I wish all day.
Whisht! botheration ! I
note down some of my
wishes
Wish when I’m going
to catch a train, that I could
get a fast cab.
Wish my umbrella
wouldn’t wear out so
quickly.
Wish I could dance the new waltz step. She can—with somebody
ds6.
Wish I hadn’t told the lady of the house that I should be very happy
to be introduced. (Miss Gawky.)
Wish I could fight as well as the Champion of England for the sake
of cabmen.
Wish boots were never new.
Wish old women wouldn’t get in the way. (Driving or walking)
Wish I could pack my portmanteau without leaving something
behind.
Wish they’d alter the stalls at most theatres.
Wish there were no sermons of more than twenty minutes’ duration.
Wish the organ-men would understand me when I say there’s some
one ill in the house.
Wish I could see a policeman.
Wish I’d brought out my latch-key (when I haven’t). Wish I had
no relations except pretty cousins in carriages. Wish my uncle was
like the uncle in farces, who says, “ Take her, you dog, and (turning to
grip the bailiff) as to that matter (meaning some few thousand pounds
worth of debts), why—why—hang it! I’ 11 settle it.” (Bailiff touches his
hat, and retires to the back of the stage.)
Wish the Loveliest Woman ever seen would ask some one what my
name is, or would send a footman. [I know a long story about an
opera-box, lovely woman, footman sent, carriage, blindfolded, supper,
private chaplain, secret history, mystery, never again—wish all this,
without the blindfolding.]
Wish that Someone, quite unknown and therefore not to be regretted,
would leave me £4000 per annum, or say £5000.
Wish that on my breakfast-table one morning I could find a note
announcing this, suddenly—£5000 per annum. Wish I may get it.
Yours, Eortunatus Junior.
"GENTLEMEN, LOOK OUT!”
“ At times the jupe itself even is caught up on each side as high as the waist
d la camargo, and is secured with piquant-looking braces, which, after being crossed
behind the back, fasten at the shoulders with smart rosettes.”
They have appropriated our jackets, they have invested in our
waistcoats, and now they are shouldering our braces. (How can
braoes be “ piquant ? ”) But one article is left to us—the “ residuum ”
of manly attire ; and a beautifully coloured engraving of that—we say
it with inexpressible sorrow—we trow, Sirs, you will shortly see in the
ladies’ fashion-books.
Very “ Poor Players.”
The “ Distinguished Amateurs ” announced that in consequence of
their " great success ” at the Holborn Theatre, their performances
would be repeated at the St. James’s. If this is their great success
what must their failure be ! Too awful to contemplate! We should
like to see their salary list, and account of expenses for the two weeks.
Blessed is the Beneficent Society if it expects nothing, assuredly it
shall not be disappointed.
AWFUL SWELLISM.
1st Swell. Haw—What d’ ya think a’ th’ division on th’ Simla Court
Martial ?
2nd Swell. Neva knew a sim’la disgrace.
A RAILWAY LEGEND.
As I walked forth, with roving eye,
And desultory tread,
A taxed-cart I observed, hard by
A certain broker’s shed.
Past days that vehicle recalled.
Upon its back, behold,
In characters of chalk was scrawled
The notice, “ To Be Sold.”
In life’s bright morning that hath been,
^And can return no more;
Upon a doctor’s carriage, seen
In waiting at a door.
To vex the minister of health
Intent, in idle game.
With frolic hand how oft, by stealth,
Used we to write the same.
Thou humble, but commodious cart.
Thine owner, who was he ?
Thought I, and wherefore did he part,
Prom choice, or need, with thee ?
Perhaps he was some tradesman small.
Who fondly did invest ,
In rotten shares, and lose his all,
Sold up, and dispossessed.
As thus I mused, the screech of steam
Came wafted on the gale ;
And, distant as that warning scream.
The thunder of the rail.
What ships have struck on yonder rock !
The sentiment was mine ;
How glad I am I hold no stock
Of that insolvent line !
But, if the mountain of its debt
Were only cleared away;
Its sharers might be happy yet—
No doubt that it would pay.
And money meanwhile idle lies,
A drug at two per cent. !
That taxed-cart might instruct the wise
How cash might well be spent.
As creditors, when small men fail.
Their goods and chattels sell:
Just so they might put up for sale,
Great companies’ as well.
Yon bankrupt line whilst banks contain,
To buy, sufficient gold,
Chalk every carriage in each train
Thereof, with “ To Be Sold.”
HYGEIA AND HYMEN.
Doctor Stark, the Scotch Registrar-General, has published a
report, containing some statistics by which he considers it to be
proved “ that bachelorhood is more destructive to life than the most
unwholesome trades, or than residence in an unhealthy house or dis-
trict where there has never been the most distant attempt at sanitary
improvements of any kind.” There are jolly bachelors who will be
convinced by the extremely strong language of this statement that
Dr. Stark is stark mad on the subject of statistics. But it may be
that he speaks the words of truth and sanity. The terrible destruc-
tiveness of bachelorship is easily accounted for. No cause more
powerfully tends to shorten life than excess in eating and drinking.
Nobody can deny the proverb that what is enough for one is enough
for two. It is still more certain that what is enough for two is too
much for one. The generality of bachelors eat and drink as much as
they can alford. When they marry they are obliged, for economy’s
sake, to share their meals with their wives. Hence, as husbands, they
consume half the quantity that they ate and drank when they were
single. Health and longevity result from the moderation of which the
necessity is imposed on the great majority of men by marriage.
Notice of Question.
Mr. Whalley will interrupt the last Act of the Reform Drama to
ask the Home Secretary whether he is aware that large coloured
bills were posted all over London, announcing that “ a Mass Meeting ”
would be held in Hyde Park on the 5th inst.