DOI Heft:
November 28, 1868
DOI Seite / Zitierlink: https://doi.org/10.11588/diglit.16882#0238
234
PUNCH, OP THE LONDON CHAPIVAPI.
[November 28, 1868.
sorts of things in a general way (paper bags for bakers, and screw-
apers, with riddles on ’em, for the tobacconists and public-houses, I
elieve, were a large source of income) by the aid of complicated and
powerful machinery, which began whizzling and steaming, and con-
suming old Puttyk’s smoke by Act of Parliament, from eight in the
morning until six at night. So when old Puttyk came home (I was
often there for young Puttyk to play with, but I despised him in those,
days, having stick-ups myself, and lie was hardly out ot frocks with curls
like a girl), he went up to his room, and returned thence very clean and
neat, Avitb a shirt-front as irreproachably spotless as was his moral
character underneath, supposing it to be on the left side—call it heart.
Young Puttyk, Jimmy', was admitted to see his father dine ; and as
sure as Puttyk Senior had sat himself down to his soup, so certainly
would Puttyk Junior sniff. This would lead to an inquiry as to the
whereabouts of his pocket-handkerchief, followed by a search in all his
ockets where it wasn’t, succeeded by a short stirring lecture on noses,
andkerchiefs, and stupid dirty little boys (whereat I used to smile
ityingly at little James), and. finally an order to go up to Nurse
“to Nurse,” ha! ha! mine had been gone three years since) and
bring one down.
The next difficulty with my friend Puttyk’s nose was the use of the
handkerchief. His father had a regular drill for this. There were
words of command, such as “Take it out of your pocket,” “Hold it
well in the middle,”—Jemmy’s eye on his father all the time—“ Now
then ! ” which was the signal, as it were, to fire.
Oh, such a failure! A little tweaky, stringy sound, like a penny
trumpet, with the squeak very much out of order. Then Papa Putyyk
would illustrate on his own nose. It was to be done thus. Example
with pocket-handkerchief. Nothing more simple, he would say—but
so would have been, to Jimmy at least, the little doll’s head in a green
bag, or the omelette in the hat, which ancient mysteries he had seen
the venerable magician, Mr. Spratt, perform in the dining-room at
Christmas, had the wretched little boy known how to do them.
“I can’t make out,” he said sadly, one day to me, “how Papa makes
such a noise,” and I saw that the poor boy had been rehearsing until
his eyes were dangerously bloodshot.
He little knew then what eminence in the line he would achieve
some day; nor had his father the slightest idea of what amount of
misery and suffering to his son, and others, he was laying the founda-
tion, when he went through the nose-drill every morning with the
unfortunate Jimmy, and paraded his own organ as the model.
The tears Jimmy Puttyk has shed over that nose of his in his poor
father’s life-time would have washed a pocket-handkerchief. Growing
older and less able to brook a scolding, he would retire into corners
for q gentle blow, or choose the moment when the front-door announced
his father’s return; anything to avoid a blow in his parent’s presence.
I notice now that James Puttyk’s son has it, in embryo, and I should
thence conclude, if I might without offence, that this was a Nose which
ran in the family.
At sixteen, Jimmy’s nose had got beyond him—it was uncontrollable.
I was six form then, and in my last half. I had occasional opportunities
of seeing Young Puttyk, to whom I had promised, on consideration of
certain tips from his father (0 ingenuus Puer /), my powerful protection.
In the middle of a construing lesson before a sharp and severe
master, Puttyk’s nose would make itself heard, and immediately
get its owner mto a scrape : its owner having the best reasons for
keeping himself as much as possible out of the master’s sight and
mind.
The Rev. Mr. Smick (Master: to TimJcins Major, who is construing').
Well, Sir !
TimJcins Major (toko is standing up in quite an opposite part of the
room to where Puttyk is.) 7n Tiywv—0 Timor—ova arplyyaxi—I have not
come—rots iroAAois toutols—to all these persons, many as they are—•
ftenrep—as — (Master James Puttyk bloios his nose : everybody is
alarmed.)
Rev. Mr. Smick (sharply.) Who was that? (Looks towards the quarter
ichence the sound came.)
Master Puttyk (with pocket handkerchief still in his hand). Please,
Sir, I was only— (Some boys laugh aside, and Mr. Smick thinks that he
is being “put tipon” by Puttyk.)
Rev. Mr. Smick. There was no necessity to make such a noise. If
you want to play the fool, Sir, you can keep it for out of school hours,
Puttyk (helplessly). But please. Sir!-
Rev. Mr. Smick (determined to catch him somehow). Go on, Sir, con-
strue. Sit down, Timkins Major.
Master Vuttyk rises, with a vague idea as to where the other boy
had left off; he looks about for the place in the book : he tries to interest
the next boy in his unhappy situation. Next boy, however, feels Smick’s
eye is on him, and ignores Puttyk’s distress.
Mr. Smick (foreseeing the ultimate end of Puttyk at this lesson, hastens
his doom by telling him where to begin), "nervep oi rbv ■KXovr'bv — Go on.
Sir.
Master Puttyk (trying to brighten up for an effort). CUnrep—as—hem—
5i—the—<5t— <k—oi—(Some boy, sotto voce, says, “ Boat ahoy,” and
Puttyk thinks it very unkind.)
Rev. Mr. Smick. Well, Sir, <5i must agree with something. Oi the what ?
Master Puttyk tcatching at the idea, and venturing it rashly). 'Oi—the
Wat. (Is about to continue hastily) t'ov-
Rev. Mr. Smick (pretending to overlook the mistake). No, Sir. I said
oi must agree with Something. (Puttyk sees his avfful blunder, and
wishes he might sit down again peaceably, or that the clock would strike
the end of the school hour before he can reply) Oh yes, <5<—(with delight
at seeing the evident xcord at the end of the sentence;) tn agrees with
Tefir/iroTes. (Thinks lie lias saved himself.)
Rev. Mr. Smick (calmly). Well—what is Si—what is redirn-bres?
Puttyk (feeling that, as the song says, “ All is lost now ”). oi is “ The ”— j
Rev. Mr. Smick (most calmly). What is Te07j7rJrfs ?
Puttyk (sincerely ivishing lie had written the translation of this word •
down in pencil) T^dri-n-oTes is—is—(Thinks of various familiar Greek !
words beginning with tA. At last he hazards) “ The ones about to die ”—
(Sees Smick smile superciliously, and knowing he’s icrong, adds quickly),
No—I mean, “ to drink,” “ Those about to drink ”--
Rev. Mr. Smick (in a chilling tone). You will write out and translate
the lesson tYvice, and bring it me at one o’clock. (Makes a note of it,
and adds the moral) Another time when you don’t know your lesson,
I advise you to keep quiet, and not attract attention by playing the
fool.
By “playing the fool” Mr. Smick means the blowing of poor
Puttyk’s unfortunate nose, which has led to his being “ called up and
put on to construe.”
The above is a sketch (scumbled in) of the early career of Puttyk’s
nose. The rest to follow.
FRA DIAVOLO’S PICK-ME-UP.
ccording to the Post’s Own Correspondent, se-
veral of the brigands who seized upon the Rev. |
Mr. Campbell, “ have been picked up in the
environs of Rome.” Let us hope that more of
them will be picked up, not only there but also
about the hills whereinto they slink. With a
view to picking as many of them as possible j
up, the utmost endeavour should be made to
shoot them down. Accordingly, the French
troops maintained at Rome might be utilised,
and the wonders which the Chassepot rifle did
at Mentana might be more creditably repeated
at Terracina, or any other neighbourhood in-
fested by the gang of a Era Diavolo.
RECREATIVE RITUALISM.
The Court of Common Pleas has decided that the “Recreative
Religionists ” have a right to perform services, including sacred music
and instructive lectures, on Sundays, and receive payment for reserved
seats. Such payment has long been usual at chapels and churches
maintained by voluntary support; sacred music has constituted one ot
the chief attractions ; and lectures have, been delivered under the name
of sermons, at least professedly instructive. This is all very well; and
the service of Recreative Religion is a reasonable service, which per-
sons of that persuasion may surely practise without just ground ot
offence to those of any other. But ought not the line to be drawn
somewhere? Have not our Mahometan fellow-subjects, or guests, a j
right to mosques, as our Jewish have to synagogues ? Might not the
possible establishment of a mosque possibly lead to a performance ot
dancing dervishes under the pretence of a devotional exercise ? if this
were permitted, it would be difficult to prevent the ballet from being
introduced into conventicles such as a building like the Alhambra open
on Sundays under the denomination of a Jumpers’ Chapel.
EOOD EOR CATTLE
How luxurious living is spreading ! The very beasts of the field are
turning epicures. They have long had their appetites tempted with
various delicacies in the form of “ Foods,” and now the last novelty m
cookery for Cattle is feeding them with cocoa; chocolate, we presume, j
being reserved for the more aristocratic animals—race-horses, prize ;
oxen, successful Southdowns, and the like. Rare times these lor ,
horses, cows, sheep, and pigs ! No more common oats and hay; no
more plain turnips and oil-cake and meal; but almonds and raisins, |
and asparagus nicely boiled with melted butter, and. macaroons and
pound-cake, and llibston pippins, and truffles (specially for the pigs)
with iced water, and lambs’ wool and possets, and all Sainsbury s
summer beverages to drink. We do not despair of hearing mat the
times are so much improved, that even poor old rheumatic farm-
labourers are able to enjoy a jorum of hot cocoa, sweet aud strong,,
before they set out to walk four miles to their work on a raw Novern.
ber morning!
PUNCH, OP THE LONDON CHAPIVAPI.
[November 28, 1868.
sorts of things in a general way (paper bags for bakers, and screw-
apers, with riddles on ’em, for the tobacconists and public-houses, I
elieve, were a large source of income) by the aid of complicated and
powerful machinery, which began whizzling and steaming, and con-
suming old Puttyk’s smoke by Act of Parliament, from eight in the
morning until six at night. So when old Puttyk came home (I was
often there for young Puttyk to play with, but I despised him in those,
days, having stick-ups myself, and lie was hardly out ot frocks with curls
like a girl), he went up to his room, and returned thence very clean and
neat, Avitb a shirt-front as irreproachably spotless as was his moral
character underneath, supposing it to be on the left side—call it heart.
Young Puttyk, Jimmy', was admitted to see his father dine ; and as
sure as Puttyk Senior had sat himself down to his soup, so certainly
would Puttyk Junior sniff. This would lead to an inquiry as to the
whereabouts of his pocket-handkerchief, followed by a search in all his
ockets where it wasn’t, succeeded by a short stirring lecture on noses,
andkerchiefs, and stupid dirty little boys (whereat I used to smile
ityingly at little James), and. finally an order to go up to Nurse
“to Nurse,” ha! ha! mine had been gone three years since) and
bring one down.
The next difficulty with my friend Puttyk’s nose was the use of the
handkerchief. His father had a regular drill for this. There were
words of command, such as “Take it out of your pocket,” “Hold it
well in the middle,”—Jemmy’s eye on his father all the time—“ Now
then ! ” which was the signal, as it were, to fire.
Oh, such a failure! A little tweaky, stringy sound, like a penny
trumpet, with the squeak very much out of order. Then Papa Putyyk
would illustrate on his own nose. It was to be done thus. Example
with pocket-handkerchief. Nothing more simple, he would say—but
so would have been, to Jimmy at least, the little doll’s head in a green
bag, or the omelette in the hat, which ancient mysteries he had seen
the venerable magician, Mr. Spratt, perform in the dining-room at
Christmas, had the wretched little boy known how to do them.
“I can’t make out,” he said sadly, one day to me, “how Papa makes
such a noise,” and I saw that the poor boy had been rehearsing until
his eyes were dangerously bloodshot.
He little knew then what eminence in the line he would achieve
some day; nor had his father the slightest idea of what amount of
misery and suffering to his son, and others, he was laying the founda-
tion, when he went through the nose-drill every morning with the
unfortunate Jimmy, and paraded his own organ as the model.
The tears Jimmy Puttyk has shed over that nose of his in his poor
father’s life-time would have washed a pocket-handkerchief. Growing
older and less able to brook a scolding, he would retire into corners
for q gentle blow, or choose the moment when the front-door announced
his father’s return; anything to avoid a blow in his parent’s presence.
I notice now that James Puttyk’s son has it, in embryo, and I should
thence conclude, if I might without offence, that this was a Nose which
ran in the family.
At sixteen, Jimmy’s nose had got beyond him—it was uncontrollable.
I was six form then, and in my last half. I had occasional opportunities
of seeing Young Puttyk, to whom I had promised, on consideration of
certain tips from his father (0 ingenuus Puer /), my powerful protection.
In the middle of a construing lesson before a sharp and severe
master, Puttyk’s nose would make itself heard, and immediately
get its owner mto a scrape : its owner having the best reasons for
keeping himself as much as possible out of the master’s sight and
mind.
The Rev. Mr. Smick (Master: to TimJcins Major, who is construing').
Well, Sir !
TimJcins Major (toko is standing up in quite an opposite part of the
room to where Puttyk is.) 7n Tiywv—0 Timor—ova arplyyaxi—I have not
come—rots iroAAois toutols—to all these persons, many as they are—•
ftenrep—as — (Master James Puttyk bloios his nose : everybody is
alarmed.)
Rev. Mr. Smick (sharply.) Who was that? (Looks towards the quarter
ichence the sound came.)
Master Puttyk (with pocket handkerchief still in his hand). Please,
Sir, I was only— (Some boys laugh aside, and Mr. Smick thinks that he
is being “put tipon” by Puttyk.)
Rev. Mr. Smick. There was no necessity to make such a noise. If
you want to play the fool, Sir, you can keep it for out of school hours,
Puttyk (helplessly). But please. Sir!-
Rev. Mr. Smick (determined to catch him somehow). Go on, Sir, con-
strue. Sit down, Timkins Major.
Master Vuttyk rises, with a vague idea as to where the other boy
had left off; he looks about for the place in the book : he tries to interest
the next boy in his unhappy situation. Next boy, however, feels Smick’s
eye is on him, and ignores Puttyk’s distress.
Mr. Smick (foreseeing the ultimate end of Puttyk at this lesson, hastens
his doom by telling him where to begin), "nervep oi rbv ■KXovr'bv — Go on.
Sir.
Master Puttyk (trying to brighten up for an effort). CUnrep—as—hem—
5i—the—<5t— <k—oi—(Some boy, sotto voce, says, “ Boat ahoy,” and
Puttyk thinks it very unkind.)
Rev. Mr. Smick. Well, Sir, <5i must agree with something. Oi the what ?
Master Puttyk tcatching at the idea, and venturing it rashly). 'Oi—the
Wat. (Is about to continue hastily) t'ov-
Rev. Mr. Smick (pretending to overlook the mistake). No, Sir. I said
oi must agree with Something. (Puttyk sees his avfful blunder, and
wishes he might sit down again peaceably, or that the clock would strike
the end of the school hour before he can reply) Oh yes, <5<—(with delight
at seeing the evident xcord at the end of the sentence;) tn agrees with
Tefir/iroTes. (Thinks lie lias saved himself.)
Rev. Mr. Smick (calmly). Well—what is Si—what is redirn-bres?
Puttyk (feeling that, as the song says, “ All is lost now ”). oi is “ The ”— j
Rev. Mr. Smick (most calmly). What is Te07j7rJrfs ?
Puttyk (sincerely ivishing lie had written the translation of this word •
down in pencil) T^dri-n-oTes is—is—(Thinks of various familiar Greek !
words beginning with tA. At last he hazards) “ The ones about to die ”—
(Sees Smick smile superciliously, and knowing he’s icrong, adds quickly),
No—I mean, “ to drink,” “ Those about to drink ”--
Rev. Mr. Smick (in a chilling tone). You will write out and translate
the lesson tYvice, and bring it me at one o’clock. (Makes a note of it,
and adds the moral) Another time when you don’t know your lesson,
I advise you to keep quiet, and not attract attention by playing the
fool.
By “playing the fool” Mr. Smick means the blowing of poor
Puttyk’s unfortunate nose, which has led to his being “ called up and
put on to construe.”
The above is a sketch (scumbled in) of the early career of Puttyk’s
nose. The rest to follow.
FRA DIAVOLO’S PICK-ME-UP.
ccording to the Post’s Own Correspondent, se-
veral of the brigands who seized upon the Rev. |
Mr. Campbell, “ have been picked up in the
environs of Rome.” Let us hope that more of
them will be picked up, not only there but also
about the hills whereinto they slink. With a
view to picking as many of them as possible j
up, the utmost endeavour should be made to
shoot them down. Accordingly, the French
troops maintained at Rome might be utilised,
and the wonders which the Chassepot rifle did
at Mentana might be more creditably repeated
at Terracina, or any other neighbourhood in-
fested by the gang of a Era Diavolo.
RECREATIVE RITUALISM.
The Court of Common Pleas has decided that the “Recreative
Religionists ” have a right to perform services, including sacred music
and instructive lectures, on Sundays, and receive payment for reserved
seats. Such payment has long been usual at chapels and churches
maintained by voluntary support; sacred music has constituted one ot
the chief attractions ; and lectures have, been delivered under the name
of sermons, at least professedly instructive. This is all very well; and
the service of Recreative Religion is a reasonable service, which per-
sons of that persuasion may surely practise without just ground ot
offence to those of any other. But ought not the line to be drawn
somewhere? Have not our Mahometan fellow-subjects, or guests, a j
right to mosques, as our Jewish have to synagogues ? Might not the
possible establishment of a mosque possibly lead to a performance ot
dancing dervishes under the pretence of a devotional exercise ? if this
were permitted, it would be difficult to prevent the ballet from being
introduced into conventicles such as a building like the Alhambra open
on Sundays under the denomination of a Jumpers’ Chapel.
EOOD EOR CATTLE
How luxurious living is spreading ! The very beasts of the field are
turning epicures. They have long had their appetites tempted with
various delicacies in the form of “ Foods,” and now the last novelty m
cookery for Cattle is feeding them with cocoa; chocolate, we presume, j
being reserved for the more aristocratic animals—race-horses, prize ;
oxen, successful Southdowns, and the like. Rare times these lor ,
horses, cows, sheep, and pigs ! No more common oats and hay; no
more plain turnips and oil-cake and meal; but almonds and raisins, |
and asparagus nicely boiled with melted butter, and. macaroons and
pound-cake, and llibston pippins, and truffles (specially for the pigs)
with iced water, and lambs’ wool and possets, and all Sainsbury s
summer beverages to drink. We do not despair of hearing mat the
times are so much improved, that even poor old rheumatic farm-
labourers are able to enjoy a jorum of hot cocoa, sweet aud strong,,
before they set out to walk four miles to their work on a raw Novern.
ber morning!