DOI Heft:
April 17, 1869
DOI Seite / Zitierlink:https://doi.org/10.11588/diglit.16883#0159
April 17, 1869.] PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.
HINTS FOR CONVERSATION.
le there such creatures as shy young
men still to be found by enterprising
naturalists ? Perhaps the species is
not wholly extinct: here and there
a specimen may be discovered in
country towns where they have one
public ball, for the benefit of the
Dispensary, and three private dances
to amuse them in the winter months,
the assembling of the Yeomanry once
in three years, in May, and an an-
nual pleasure fair and water-party
as summer entertainments. Do we
address any who are diffident, but
barely provided with conversation
in their intercourse with the diviner
sex, particularly with the younger
angels, grouping on gala occasions
with other youth in corners and
doorways, and not emitting a bril-
liant light in dining- and drawing-
room ?
There is hope for such as these,
there is something better than the
“ conversational sofa ” mentioned a
se’nnight or two back—there is a
professor, rather a professoress, of
the talking art who removes shy-
ness, extracts diffidence, and com-
pletely eradicates all nervous awkwardness. But they will have to
goto America to be cured—to thriving Chicago, where, according to
the Morning Star, a young woman advertises that she will “give
lessons in etiquette, and the way of conversing with ladies, to any
young gentleman who does not feel at ease in the society of the oppo-
site sex. Tuition to lovers, extra.” If the “ young woman,” who is
reported to have been “ quite successful,” will come over to England
after she has finished her lessons in America, she will be welcomed
almost as heartily as Mr. Lothrop Motley, have an immense class
of pupils, and go back to Chicago, there to spend a happy old age in
the possession of a handsome competence and first-rate testimonials.
But is not the interference with lovers of doubtful propriety, especially
if the young woman is good looking, or, to use the language of the
placarding papers, “of a highly prepossessing exterior”? We leave
this to Congress.
As Mr. Motley, the successor to Mr. Beverdy Johnson, who
deserves our kindest farewells, is likely to be a good deal talked about,
it may be as well that you should know something of his picturesque
Dutch Histories (William the “ Silent” will at last be dragged into
conversation)—if only of the title-pages; and having correspondents in
New York and Boston, it will not be strange if you express a wish
that this distinguished man of letters may help on cheap ocean
postage.
Eurther, mindful of your parting promise to Marian Winthorpe
when she went to stay with her aunt at Clayworth—a village purely
agricultural, and not possessing many objects of interest—to send her
two or three numbers of The Echo at a time, you are sure to stand up
(and sometimes sit down) in Society, for cheaper book-postage at home;
which subject, or one akin to it, appears to have attracted attention in
other places besides the House of Commons, one of the learned Societies
having been amusing itself with a paper on “anEnvelope in the Cubic
Correspondence of Points.” (Another paper being entitled “The
Invariants of a Pair of Conics,” we are daily looking out for an
announcement in the Times that among the latest additions to the
Zoological Gardens are “a Pair of Conics,” presented by the Nawab
of Nagpore.)
Talk as you please on the question of Life Peerages (here’s a health
to Lords Lawrence and Penzance), for you are not very likely to
arouse angry passions on that topic; but be cautious what you say on
the subject of opening Public Museums and Galleries on Sundays.
(Were you not sorry for Mr. Bruce when you read that in one day he
“ received three deputations, and had to listen to no fewer than twenty-
five speeches on the Sunday Question?” He ought to have his
salary substantially raised if he has to go through such sufferings as
these frequently.) Not because you have any doubt that they ought
to be opened, and that they will be opened, but because it is always
desirable, when you are enjoying exquisite savours, and flavours, and
vintages, and the company of fair women, to avoid anything like argu-
ment or dispute; and as there might be some one present engaged in
the liquor trade, or largely interested in publichouse property, or a
believer in the fitness of allowing no recreation on Sunday, except
•what may be derived from successive quarterns of highly sophisticated
gm, do not, at all events, rouse the subject. But if you find that your
neighbour thinks as you do, ask him if it is not surprising that those
153
of us who can go to Trafalgar Square and South Kensington any day
we like in the six, and who have airy houses and nice gardens, and
well cooked dinners and friends dropping in after Morning Service,
should wish to deny a glimpse into a sweeter life to that not incon-
siderable part of the population of London, whose existence is one piece
of monotonous wearying toil from Monday morning to Saturday night,
whose home is in a sullen, stifling court, and whose only chance of
seeing something that shall amuse and cheer, and perhaps elevate them,
lies in a reformed, but not a revolutionised, Sunday. We are only
speaking here of the opening of Free National Institutions, otherwise
something might be said in re Crystal Palace versus Gin Palace.
Of all the types in a printer’s hand.
Commend me to the Amperzand,
For he’s the gentleman, (seems to me)
Of the typographical cotnpanie.
0 my nice little Amperzand,
My graceful, swanlike Amperzand.
Nothing that Cadmus ever planned
Equals my elegant Amperzand !
He’s never bothered, like A. B. C.
In Index, Guide, and Directorie :
He’s never stuck on a Peeler’s coat,
Nor hung to show where the folks must vote.
No, my nice little Amperzand,
M y plump and curly Amperzand.
When I ’ve a pen in a listless hand,
I’m always making an Amperzand !
Many a letter your writers hate.
Ugly Cjwith his tail so straight,
j?, that makes you cross as a bear,
And^;, that helps you with zouns to swear.
But not my nice little Amperzand,
My easily dashed off Amperzand,
Any odd shape folks understand
To mean my Protean Amperzand !
Nothing for him that’s starch or stiff,
Never he’s used in scold or tiff,
State epistles, so dull and grand,
Mustn’t contain the shortened and.
N o, my nice little Amperzand,
You ’re good for those who ’re jolly aud bland,
In days when letters were dried, with sand
Old frumps wouldn’t use my Amperzand !
But he is dear in old friendship’s call,
Or when love is laughing through lady-scrawl:
“ Come 8f dine, fy have bachelor’s fare.”
“ Come, fy I’U keep you a Bound fy Square.”
Yes, my nice little Amperzand
Never must into a word expand.
Gentle sign of affection stand,
My kind, familiar Amperzand.
“ Letters Five do form his name: ”
His, who Millions doth teach and tame :
If 1 could not be in that Sacred Band,
1 ’d be the affable Amperzand.
Yes, my nice little Amperzand,
And when P.U.N.C.Il. is driving his five-in-hand,
1 11 have a velocipede, neatly planned
In the shape of a fly-away Amperzand.
Eanwell. Scandula Exoluta.
Hattention !
Members who find it a sell to discover some other M.P.’s hat on a
favourite seat, and who wish to know how to act under the circum-
stances, are recommended to go into the Library and consult “ Hat-
sell’s Precedents of Proceedings in the House of Commons.” Or they
might take the opinion of the Law Officers of the Crown.
Motto for Prizefighting in an Election Biot.—“ Spargite
nuces ; ” i. e., Scatter their nuts right and left.
HINTS FOR CONVERSATION.
le there such creatures as shy young
men still to be found by enterprising
naturalists ? Perhaps the species is
not wholly extinct: here and there
a specimen may be discovered in
country towns where they have one
public ball, for the benefit of the
Dispensary, and three private dances
to amuse them in the winter months,
the assembling of the Yeomanry once
in three years, in May, and an an-
nual pleasure fair and water-party
as summer entertainments. Do we
address any who are diffident, but
barely provided with conversation
in their intercourse with the diviner
sex, particularly with the younger
angels, grouping on gala occasions
with other youth in corners and
doorways, and not emitting a bril-
liant light in dining- and drawing-
room ?
There is hope for such as these,
there is something better than the
“ conversational sofa ” mentioned a
se’nnight or two back—there is a
professor, rather a professoress, of
the talking art who removes shy-
ness, extracts diffidence, and com-
pletely eradicates all nervous awkwardness. But they will have to
goto America to be cured—to thriving Chicago, where, according to
the Morning Star, a young woman advertises that she will “give
lessons in etiquette, and the way of conversing with ladies, to any
young gentleman who does not feel at ease in the society of the oppo-
site sex. Tuition to lovers, extra.” If the “ young woman,” who is
reported to have been “ quite successful,” will come over to England
after she has finished her lessons in America, she will be welcomed
almost as heartily as Mr. Lothrop Motley, have an immense class
of pupils, and go back to Chicago, there to spend a happy old age in
the possession of a handsome competence and first-rate testimonials.
But is not the interference with lovers of doubtful propriety, especially
if the young woman is good looking, or, to use the language of the
placarding papers, “of a highly prepossessing exterior”? We leave
this to Congress.
As Mr. Motley, the successor to Mr. Beverdy Johnson, who
deserves our kindest farewells, is likely to be a good deal talked about,
it may be as well that you should know something of his picturesque
Dutch Histories (William the “ Silent” will at last be dragged into
conversation)—if only of the title-pages; and having correspondents in
New York and Boston, it will not be strange if you express a wish
that this distinguished man of letters may help on cheap ocean
postage.
Eurther, mindful of your parting promise to Marian Winthorpe
when she went to stay with her aunt at Clayworth—a village purely
agricultural, and not possessing many objects of interest—to send her
two or three numbers of The Echo at a time, you are sure to stand up
(and sometimes sit down) in Society, for cheaper book-postage at home;
which subject, or one akin to it, appears to have attracted attention in
other places besides the House of Commons, one of the learned Societies
having been amusing itself with a paper on “anEnvelope in the Cubic
Correspondence of Points.” (Another paper being entitled “The
Invariants of a Pair of Conics,” we are daily looking out for an
announcement in the Times that among the latest additions to the
Zoological Gardens are “a Pair of Conics,” presented by the Nawab
of Nagpore.)
Talk as you please on the question of Life Peerages (here’s a health
to Lords Lawrence and Penzance), for you are not very likely to
arouse angry passions on that topic; but be cautious what you say on
the subject of opening Public Museums and Galleries on Sundays.
(Were you not sorry for Mr. Bruce when you read that in one day he
“ received three deputations, and had to listen to no fewer than twenty-
five speeches on the Sunday Question?” He ought to have his
salary substantially raised if he has to go through such sufferings as
these frequently.) Not because you have any doubt that they ought
to be opened, and that they will be opened, but because it is always
desirable, when you are enjoying exquisite savours, and flavours, and
vintages, and the company of fair women, to avoid anything like argu-
ment or dispute; and as there might be some one present engaged in
the liquor trade, or largely interested in publichouse property, or a
believer in the fitness of allowing no recreation on Sunday, except
•what may be derived from successive quarterns of highly sophisticated
gm, do not, at all events, rouse the subject. But if you find that your
neighbour thinks as you do, ask him if it is not surprising that those
153
of us who can go to Trafalgar Square and South Kensington any day
we like in the six, and who have airy houses and nice gardens, and
well cooked dinners and friends dropping in after Morning Service,
should wish to deny a glimpse into a sweeter life to that not incon-
siderable part of the population of London, whose existence is one piece
of monotonous wearying toil from Monday morning to Saturday night,
whose home is in a sullen, stifling court, and whose only chance of
seeing something that shall amuse and cheer, and perhaps elevate them,
lies in a reformed, but not a revolutionised, Sunday. We are only
speaking here of the opening of Free National Institutions, otherwise
something might be said in re Crystal Palace versus Gin Palace.
Of all the types in a printer’s hand.
Commend me to the Amperzand,
For he’s the gentleman, (seems to me)
Of the typographical cotnpanie.
0 my nice little Amperzand,
My graceful, swanlike Amperzand.
Nothing that Cadmus ever planned
Equals my elegant Amperzand !
He’s never bothered, like A. B. C.
In Index, Guide, and Directorie :
He’s never stuck on a Peeler’s coat,
Nor hung to show where the folks must vote.
No, my nice little Amperzand,
M y plump and curly Amperzand.
When I ’ve a pen in a listless hand,
I’m always making an Amperzand !
Many a letter your writers hate.
Ugly Cjwith his tail so straight,
j?, that makes you cross as a bear,
And^;, that helps you with zouns to swear.
But not my nice little Amperzand,
My easily dashed off Amperzand,
Any odd shape folks understand
To mean my Protean Amperzand !
Nothing for him that’s starch or stiff,
Never he’s used in scold or tiff,
State epistles, so dull and grand,
Mustn’t contain the shortened and.
N o, my nice little Amperzand,
You ’re good for those who ’re jolly aud bland,
In days when letters were dried, with sand
Old frumps wouldn’t use my Amperzand !
But he is dear in old friendship’s call,
Or when love is laughing through lady-scrawl:
“ Come 8f dine, fy have bachelor’s fare.”
“ Come, fy I’U keep you a Bound fy Square.”
Yes, my nice little Amperzand
Never must into a word expand.
Gentle sign of affection stand,
My kind, familiar Amperzand.
“ Letters Five do form his name: ”
His, who Millions doth teach and tame :
If 1 could not be in that Sacred Band,
1 ’d be the affable Amperzand.
Yes, my nice little Amperzand,
And when P.U.N.C.Il. is driving his five-in-hand,
1 11 have a velocipede, neatly planned
In the shape of a fly-away Amperzand.
Eanwell. Scandula Exoluta.
Hattention !
Members who find it a sell to discover some other M.P.’s hat on a
favourite seat, and who wish to know how to act under the circum-
stances, are recommended to go into the Library and consult “ Hat-
sell’s Precedents of Proceedings in the House of Commons.” Or they
might take the opinion of the Law Officers of the Crown.
Motto for Prizefighting in an Election Biot.—“ Spargite
nuces ; ” i. e., Scatter their nuts right and left.