Punch (64.1873)

260 PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. [June 21, 1873.

A THING TO BE DONE BY INSTALMENTS.

Aunt Emily. "You're surely not going to Shoot me, Malcolm ?"
Malcolm. "Well, No! Anyhow, not all at once, you know, 'cos
you 're too big !"

HAWFINCH'S HOAX.

a-» [ was a gather'n hop-tops

0' the hedge, one bright June day,
A Cockney chap come watchun me.

And he ass'd me, " Wot be they

" What, dostn't thee know, thee Mozus,"

I answers, " what hop-tops be ?
Didst never see hops a grow'n afore ;

The hops as they brews beer wi' ? "

",Wot, be 'um physic ? " says Cockney,

Says T, " Bist thee an ass?
Woot'st goo to a chemist and druggistes shop

For a bilun o' sparrer-grass ?

" They be good to ate as spinnidge ;

Fit to set afore the Queen.
Look here, how like they be thyself,

So tender, soft, and green."

In that same lane, soon arter,

Where our dialogue fust took pleaee,

A gen I meets my Cockney friend,
Like a miller all mealy-feace.

And " Yah ! " a yowls out at me,

Wi' a jell o' horrer and woe ;
" No more o' yer hop-tops. A bastely shame

To gammon a young man so ! "

" Why, what's the matter ? " I says to 'n„

" The matter! " a made reply.
" I ate a dish o' they hop-tops there ;

And they pizon'd me purty nigh."

" Them hop-tops ? Them thee pints to ? "

"Them. Ees. Them there," says he.
" Loraraassy! " I roars ; " Loramassy ho!

Thee'st ben and ate Bryony.

" They grows both zummut like, sure,

And climbs wi' twirl and twist.
But what but a fool could mistake the two

And a purty fool thee bist."

" I thought 'twas the cobbler's marvels,

Sitch a collect," a said, " I got."
Says I, " Thee tnedst think thyself well off

0' the death as was in thy pot."

When I practizes botany

Herearter, whoso comes by,
Wi' "Could you inform me what them things be?"

I shall tell 'un to ax my eye.

was in a hurry; " but they always have some answer, and it is sur-
prising if it isn't of the sort to which repartee is impossible in the
mouth of Your Repkekentative.

pace, until I began to think that " I really would speak to the
driver"—when all of a sudden he plucked up as we were crossing
a thoroughfare, and in glorious style charged another Hansom
which was driving out of a street at right angles to us. How a
collision, in which the horse would have been the principal sufferer,

was avoided 1 don't know but avoided it was, and he went on „ Perglcos odl Pue Apparatus."

in his old butter-and-egg fashion, until a nasty corner ottered, him ' .

a chance of displaying his original genius. He was going round this {Freeh/ adapted by Mr. Punch from Hokace's " Ad Puerum,"
as though he were practically discovering some new force in nature,

when his knees failed him, and, after recovering from such a stumble
as would have ruined less gifted creatures for life, he resumed his
former ruminative trot. The Cabman's knowledge of short cuts would
have been most praiseworthy, if in every case the short cuts had not
been blocked up by coal-carts, carts without coal, carts with Backs,
and trucks; also cabs, meeting us where there was only room for
one at a time, which disputed the ground inch by inch, and before
which we had to retire. The Strawberry Dun performed this grace-
ful act to perfection. It only wanted music to have made it worthy
of a circus.

I paid this Cabman his exact fare, and he asked me, " How's one
to live if one only has his 'xact fare ? " I did not stop to answer the
conundrum.

Another horse was what I believe is called "a weed." He was
long, bony, lanky, rat-tailed, and long-legged. He looked like
pace. When I was seated in the cab, however, he went either as if
he was of an inquiring disposition, and wanted to see what sort of
fare he was taking, or as if he had a stiff neck, and was obliged to
keep his head always turned quite round to the right. Perhaps this
was his merit, and he saw what to avoid in front and at the back.
If so, he went cautiously, and walked rouud the corners.

In fact we walked the greater part of the time. When I remon-
strated, the man said, " He'd ha' gone faster if he'd known as I

Carminum, lib. 1. 38-.)

to my 0pfice-b0y.

I hate the row folks round this Persian raise,
These penny-paper crowns of puffy praise.
Bring me no flowers of speech, in far-fetched phrase,
Twined for this Shah.

No such poor tinsel-wreaths to my plain screen
Of laurel pinned shall be in Fleet Street seen.
'Neath my own vine, I'll sip my cup, serene,
And murmur, " Pshaw ! "

Bless the Bank!

The Chancellor op the Exchequer has obtained leave to bring:
in a Bill authorising the Bank of England, in certain events, to
issue an extraordinary amount of notes in exchange for securities.
How much the Old Lady of Threadneedle Street will resemble Patti
and Titiens, and Christine Nilsson ! Bless her old heart. More
power to her larynx. May her ability to utter notes abide for ever ;
may her voice never crack: may no length of years impair her
utterance so as to transmute the bank-note from a soprano to a
falsetto.