DOI issue:
September 21, 1867
DOI Page / Citation link:https://doi.org/10.11588/diglit.16880#0127
September 21. 1867.]
m
PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.
to a mere stump. “ Isn’t it my time for medicine ? ” he inquires. No, it
is not He is making me irritable. As if I couldn’t take care of my-
self. I get him to talk of mutual friends. “ What’s become of
Twyrtle?” I ask. He gives a gloomy smile, and it being cheerful
for him, 1 look forward to some amusing intelligence of Twyrtle.
“ Ah, poor Twyrtle,” he says, “married two years ago {slow puff
from cigar); sad thing (puff and watching the smoke)-, took to
drinking {puff); wife gone ! ” This is his news of Twyrtle I am
shocked. 1 try Sam Hennidge. What became of Old Sam ? Haven’t- ;
seen him for years. “ Ah ! ” he replies. “ Poor Old Sam [long puff
for silent consideration of Old Sam’s life. At last he remembers it).
Fishing-hook gave him a slight scratch a few months since {puff)-,
dead now ” {smoke out of his nostrils).
We are both silent. I suppose he’ll go and slowly gossip of me to
some other acquaintance as “ Poor So-and-So ; sad thing ; been among
the jelly-fish ; can’t last long,” and so forth. I am depressed : wish
he’d go By the way, in future not at home to Gloomy Friend
He departs at last, having been with me four hours. He has not
laughed once, I think, in his attempts to be sympathetic. [Not very
simper-t.hetic, as my Funny Friend would say—picture further on]
His last words (at the door, but voice down several steps) are, “ See
Bunbury—he ’ll put you all right.” His final recommendation decides
me. I began with Tipkin, and I’ll stick to Tipkin : and the sooner
he cures me, and gets me out of the place where my Gloomy Friend is
stopping, the better for my general health and spirits.
Note.—Next morning. Tipkin is a trump. Have a photograph of
myself done, “ Cured in an Instant! ” And in good time too, having
received an official communication (I hold, as you know, a Government
situation, and have a character to keep up) which compels my personal
attendance in the North.
By the way. In the North I shall be all alone. Ask some one to
stay with me. To whom do I owe a dinner ? or any civilities ? Refer
to Photograph Book. Ha ! there’s my man—lively, not hearty (thank
goodness), full of anecdote, witty, seen life. Capital companion in the
North. So I write to Thomas Grigg [name under portrait of my
Funny Friend.]
Ah ! if I had but known—but——
BY THE SEA.
{A Grumble of September.)
^ ell ! London may be dull,
With the dulness of Sep-
tember ;
Or dark and suicidal
With the fog-wreaths of
November.
But the dulness of her
autumn.
And her winter’s miserie,
Are lively to the dulness
And suffering—by the sea !
With the snobs on the
parade
I’m not inclined to mingle:
1 can’t get up Platonics
With the nurse-maids on
the shingle.
I’m sick of the hot cliff-
walk,
I’m tired of shrimps at
tea;
Bored to death with barrel-organs
And brass-bands—by the sea!
And if such out-door pastimes
And pleasures leave me weary,
Indoors, at Sea-View Cottage
Existence is more dreary.
Where the only thing thaf’s living,
Is the sharp F or flat B,
About the flabby pillow
At our lodging—by the sea !
A SUBSTITUTE FOR THE PILLORY.
There are not a few reflecting persons who lament the abolition of
the Pillory. They think, if that structure were still in being, it would
form an admirable frame for the face of the small tradesman, but great
rogue, who is addicted to the use of false weights and measures. It is
their opinion that such a face, so framed, would form an excellent sub-
ject for a photograph to be distributed amongst the rogue’s neighbours,
and that it would also present a suitable target for volleys of eggs,
constituting a merited ovation.
That the moral exposure, at least, of every such rogue is extremely
desirable, nobody will deny or doubt except himself and his fellows.
Towards this no good at all is done by the mere enumeration, with
respect only to their several callings, of a lot of rogues who were
brought to justice and fined. Nobody derives much gratification, or
any advantage, from the simple announcement of a list of anonymous
rogues. In every case of convictions for cheating of any sort, a nominal
catalogue of the offenders ought to be made public, and moreover their
addresses should be given as well as their names, for the information
of those who, without it, might deal with them, and perhaps not take
the precaution of looking very sharp after them.
Mr. Punch has much pleasure in recommending to journalists in
general for imitation, the excellent example furnished by the Morning
Post in publishing, on Thursday, September 12, a full, true, and
particular Return, made to the vestry of"St. Pancras, by Mr. George
Collins, foreman to the Weights and Measures Committee, of persons
amerced in penalties incurred by them for using false weights and
scales in that parish. It will be found in Page 2 of our fashionable
and serviceable contemporary, column 4, at the bottom. Note these
points. The addresses as well as the names of all the cozeners,
together with the particulars of their several frauds, are carefully
specified, so as to enable their neighbours and all other persons in any
danger of becoming their customers, to know whom they have got to
trust to—which, of course, they will do no farther than you could
throw a bull by the tail.
This for That.
What a ludicrous change the alteration of a single word would
sometimes make ! An evening paper remarks that “ They (the upper
classes) must, at whatever cost, and with whatever labour, inoculate
the constituencies with their own ideas,” &c. Try the substitution of
vaccinate (the more modern practice too) for “inoculate.”
New Meaning.—The Art of Model Farming should now be classed
under Mechi-nism.
They tell me sea-air’s tonic;
They bid me seek the briny;
Dip my head till I am stifled,
Rub my body, till I’m shiny.
But I’ve no taste for sewage,
Diluted though it be,
And that’s the sort of brewage
Supplied us—by the sea !
The papers come in late,
And the letters go out early :
The butcher is extortionate,
The poulterer is surly.
The fish comes down from London,
And stale is apt to be ;
The fishers they hook human flats—
Not flat-fish—by^the sea.
’Gainst the cheating of the natives
My day is one long struggle :
They’ve ta’en to highway robb’ry,
Since they have ceased to smuggle;
And their harvest is the season—
And the crop they clear is me;
And I’m grist between the mill-stones
Of the millers—by the sea.
If longer here I linger,
Winslow knows what I may be !
I may mope into an idiot,
Or maunder to a babv:
Become a human jelly-fish,
Or sea anemone,—
As soon in an aquarium
Exist, as by the sea!
My wife may call me selfish,
And read me Caudle-lectures,
On my private grounds for bolting
Indulge in harsh conjectures :
Blest if 1 stand it longer—
In town to-night 1 ’ll be,
Better London in September,
Than a week more by the sea.
THE LATE RISING IN SPAIN.
Spain is asleep in more ways than one. We have heard enough of
her “ late rising.” When shall we hear of her “ early rising ?”
m
PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.
to a mere stump. “ Isn’t it my time for medicine ? ” he inquires. No, it
is not He is making me irritable. As if I couldn’t take care of my-
self. I get him to talk of mutual friends. “ What’s become of
Twyrtle?” I ask. He gives a gloomy smile, and it being cheerful
for him, 1 look forward to some amusing intelligence of Twyrtle.
“ Ah, poor Twyrtle,” he says, “married two years ago {slow puff
from cigar); sad thing (puff and watching the smoke)-, took to
drinking {puff); wife gone ! ” This is his news of Twyrtle I am
shocked. 1 try Sam Hennidge. What became of Old Sam ? Haven’t- ;
seen him for years. “ Ah ! ” he replies. “ Poor Old Sam [long puff
for silent consideration of Old Sam’s life. At last he remembers it).
Fishing-hook gave him a slight scratch a few months since {puff)-,
dead now ” {smoke out of his nostrils).
We are both silent. I suppose he’ll go and slowly gossip of me to
some other acquaintance as “ Poor So-and-So ; sad thing ; been among
the jelly-fish ; can’t last long,” and so forth. I am depressed : wish
he’d go By the way, in future not at home to Gloomy Friend
He departs at last, having been with me four hours. He has not
laughed once, I think, in his attempts to be sympathetic. [Not very
simper-t.hetic, as my Funny Friend would say—picture further on]
His last words (at the door, but voice down several steps) are, “ See
Bunbury—he ’ll put you all right.” His final recommendation decides
me. I began with Tipkin, and I’ll stick to Tipkin : and the sooner
he cures me, and gets me out of the place where my Gloomy Friend is
stopping, the better for my general health and spirits.
Note.—Next morning. Tipkin is a trump. Have a photograph of
myself done, “ Cured in an Instant! ” And in good time too, having
received an official communication (I hold, as you know, a Government
situation, and have a character to keep up) which compels my personal
attendance in the North.
By the way. In the North I shall be all alone. Ask some one to
stay with me. To whom do I owe a dinner ? or any civilities ? Refer
to Photograph Book. Ha ! there’s my man—lively, not hearty (thank
goodness), full of anecdote, witty, seen life. Capital companion in the
North. So I write to Thomas Grigg [name under portrait of my
Funny Friend.]
Ah ! if I had but known—but——
BY THE SEA.
{A Grumble of September.)
^ ell ! London may be dull,
With the dulness of Sep-
tember ;
Or dark and suicidal
With the fog-wreaths of
November.
But the dulness of her
autumn.
And her winter’s miserie,
Are lively to the dulness
And suffering—by the sea !
With the snobs on the
parade
I’m not inclined to mingle:
1 can’t get up Platonics
With the nurse-maids on
the shingle.
I’m sick of the hot cliff-
walk,
I’m tired of shrimps at
tea;
Bored to death with barrel-organs
And brass-bands—by the sea!
And if such out-door pastimes
And pleasures leave me weary,
Indoors, at Sea-View Cottage
Existence is more dreary.
Where the only thing thaf’s living,
Is the sharp F or flat B,
About the flabby pillow
At our lodging—by the sea !
A SUBSTITUTE FOR THE PILLORY.
There are not a few reflecting persons who lament the abolition of
the Pillory. They think, if that structure were still in being, it would
form an admirable frame for the face of the small tradesman, but great
rogue, who is addicted to the use of false weights and measures. It is
their opinion that such a face, so framed, would form an excellent sub-
ject for a photograph to be distributed amongst the rogue’s neighbours,
and that it would also present a suitable target for volleys of eggs,
constituting a merited ovation.
That the moral exposure, at least, of every such rogue is extremely
desirable, nobody will deny or doubt except himself and his fellows.
Towards this no good at all is done by the mere enumeration, with
respect only to their several callings, of a lot of rogues who were
brought to justice and fined. Nobody derives much gratification, or
any advantage, from the simple announcement of a list of anonymous
rogues. In every case of convictions for cheating of any sort, a nominal
catalogue of the offenders ought to be made public, and moreover their
addresses should be given as well as their names, for the information
of those who, without it, might deal with them, and perhaps not take
the precaution of looking very sharp after them.
Mr. Punch has much pleasure in recommending to journalists in
general for imitation, the excellent example furnished by the Morning
Post in publishing, on Thursday, September 12, a full, true, and
particular Return, made to the vestry of"St. Pancras, by Mr. George
Collins, foreman to the Weights and Measures Committee, of persons
amerced in penalties incurred by them for using false weights and
scales in that parish. It will be found in Page 2 of our fashionable
and serviceable contemporary, column 4, at the bottom. Note these
points. The addresses as well as the names of all the cozeners,
together with the particulars of their several frauds, are carefully
specified, so as to enable their neighbours and all other persons in any
danger of becoming their customers, to know whom they have got to
trust to—which, of course, they will do no farther than you could
throw a bull by the tail.
This for That.
What a ludicrous change the alteration of a single word would
sometimes make ! An evening paper remarks that “ They (the upper
classes) must, at whatever cost, and with whatever labour, inoculate
the constituencies with their own ideas,” &c. Try the substitution of
vaccinate (the more modern practice too) for “inoculate.”
New Meaning.—The Art of Model Farming should now be classed
under Mechi-nism.
They tell me sea-air’s tonic;
They bid me seek the briny;
Dip my head till I am stifled,
Rub my body, till I’m shiny.
But I’ve no taste for sewage,
Diluted though it be,
And that’s the sort of brewage
Supplied us—by the sea !
The papers come in late,
And the letters go out early :
The butcher is extortionate,
The poulterer is surly.
The fish comes down from London,
And stale is apt to be ;
The fishers they hook human flats—
Not flat-fish—by^the sea.
’Gainst the cheating of the natives
My day is one long struggle :
They’ve ta’en to highway robb’ry,
Since they have ceased to smuggle;
And their harvest is the season—
And the crop they clear is me;
And I’m grist between the mill-stones
Of the millers—by the sea.
If longer here I linger,
Winslow knows what I may be !
I may mope into an idiot,
Or maunder to a babv:
Become a human jelly-fish,
Or sea anemone,—
As soon in an aquarium
Exist, as by the sea!
My wife may call me selfish,
And read me Caudle-lectures,
On my private grounds for bolting
Indulge in harsh conjectures :
Blest if 1 stand it longer—
In town to-night 1 ’ll be,
Better London in September,
Than a week more by the sea.
THE LATE RISING IN SPAIN.
Spain is asleep in more ways than one. We have heard enough of
her “ late rising.” When shall we hear of her “ early rising ?”