DOI issue:
September 20, 1873
DOI Page / Citation link:https://doi.org/10.11588/diglit.16937#0132
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120 PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. [September 20, 1873.
OUR MANOEUVRES.
Captain of Skirmishers {'noshing in to seize Picket Sentries of the Enemy). “ Hullo ! He-ar ! You Surrender to this Company ! ”
Opposition Lance-Corporal. “ Beg Pardon, Sir! It’s the other Way, Sir. We’re a Brigade, Sir! ! !”
A DEPTFORD DONKEY.
The Conservatives are np and doing-. One of them has sent
Mr. Punch a soul-stirring appeal, addressed to the Electors of
Deptford. They are informed—in reference to the late contest at
Shaftesbury—that “ the Mantle of Boadicea, Queen of the Iceni,
has fallen on the Dowager Marchioness of Westminster. She has
led you on,” proceeds the placard, “ let not defeat come ! ” If the
framer of this address had turned to the next page of his Pinnoch’s
Catechism, he would have found that he was favouring his friends
with a had omen. Does not Cowper say something about a
“ Druid,” and “ a sweet but awful Liar ? ” We are quite sure that
the exemplary lady, whose name has been so ridiculously used,
would he the last to desire to imitate Queen Boadicea, and to
exterminate her antagonists, and it could he wished that some rudi-
mentary instruction, however slight, were considered necessary to a
person who undertakes to stir politicians into action. Punch here-
by sentences the Writer of the Address to learn the Tennysonian
poem, Boadicea, containing the lines—
“ Hear, Iceman, Catieueblanian, hear Coritanian, Trinobant!
Up, my Britons, on my chariot, on my chargers, trample them under us.”
A Pilgrimage on Sunday.
The Paris Correspondent of the Morning Post observes :—
“ One or two of the noble British pilgrims were at the races on Sunday.
They might have done worse.”
From a Protestant point of view, perhaps, they might. For
instance, instead of doing a little horse-worship, they might have
engaged themselves in bringing discredit on faith by the practice of
superstition. What their own Church, that is the Pope, has to say
to their anti-Sabbatarian sporting, the Pope, of all men, only knows.
The Papal Church claims to he the sole authority for keeping Sun-
day holy; and Infallibility alone can tell whether or no that is
done by going to the races.
THE PRICE OF PEACE.
We ’ve paid the Alabama Claim,
Much o’er three millions sterling fined,
By ex post facto law; the same
Our Yankee friends how like to bind!
When we change cases by-and-by,
Will arbitration suit their plan ?
Or will they due redress deny,
And bid us take it if we can ?
Our money we have hid farewell,
’Tis gone across the Atlantic main ;
And we shall find we’ve had to shell
All that, most likely, out in vain.
Mere Invention.
Up the Highlands way there is, in wet weather, a handsome
Cataract, the name whereof is spelt anyhow you like, but is pro-
nounced “Fyres.” There is not much water in hot weather, and
then Art assists Nature, and a bucket or so of the fluid is thrown
over for the delectation of Tourists. One of them, observing this
arrangement, said that the Proprietor
“ Began to pail his ineffectual Fyres.”
[This story is quite false, which would he of no consequence, but
that every Scottish Tourist knows it to be false. Our Contributor
should really be more careful. ]
classic courtship.
How our young friend Cecil Wyse wooed his prettv present wife.
He said to her, tenderly, Sapere aude. And she did dare.
120 PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. [September 20, 1873.
OUR MANOEUVRES.
Captain of Skirmishers {'noshing in to seize Picket Sentries of the Enemy). “ Hullo ! He-ar ! You Surrender to this Company ! ”
Opposition Lance-Corporal. “ Beg Pardon, Sir! It’s the other Way, Sir. We’re a Brigade, Sir! ! !”
A DEPTFORD DONKEY.
The Conservatives are np and doing-. One of them has sent
Mr. Punch a soul-stirring appeal, addressed to the Electors of
Deptford. They are informed—in reference to the late contest at
Shaftesbury—that “ the Mantle of Boadicea, Queen of the Iceni,
has fallen on the Dowager Marchioness of Westminster. She has
led you on,” proceeds the placard, “ let not defeat come ! ” If the
framer of this address had turned to the next page of his Pinnoch’s
Catechism, he would have found that he was favouring his friends
with a had omen. Does not Cowper say something about a
“ Druid,” and “ a sweet but awful Liar ? ” We are quite sure that
the exemplary lady, whose name has been so ridiculously used,
would he the last to desire to imitate Queen Boadicea, and to
exterminate her antagonists, and it could he wished that some rudi-
mentary instruction, however slight, were considered necessary to a
person who undertakes to stir politicians into action. Punch here-
by sentences the Writer of the Address to learn the Tennysonian
poem, Boadicea, containing the lines—
“ Hear, Iceman, Catieueblanian, hear Coritanian, Trinobant!
Up, my Britons, on my chariot, on my chargers, trample them under us.”
A Pilgrimage on Sunday.
The Paris Correspondent of the Morning Post observes :—
“ One or two of the noble British pilgrims were at the races on Sunday.
They might have done worse.”
From a Protestant point of view, perhaps, they might. For
instance, instead of doing a little horse-worship, they might have
engaged themselves in bringing discredit on faith by the practice of
superstition. What their own Church, that is the Pope, has to say
to their anti-Sabbatarian sporting, the Pope, of all men, only knows.
The Papal Church claims to he the sole authority for keeping Sun-
day holy; and Infallibility alone can tell whether or no that is
done by going to the races.
THE PRICE OF PEACE.
We ’ve paid the Alabama Claim,
Much o’er three millions sterling fined,
By ex post facto law; the same
Our Yankee friends how like to bind!
When we change cases by-and-by,
Will arbitration suit their plan ?
Or will they due redress deny,
And bid us take it if we can ?
Our money we have hid farewell,
’Tis gone across the Atlantic main ;
And we shall find we’ve had to shell
All that, most likely, out in vain.
Mere Invention.
Up the Highlands way there is, in wet weather, a handsome
Cataract, the name whereof is spelt anyhow you like, but is pro-
nounced “Fyres.” There is not much water in hot weather, and
then Art assists Nature, and a bucket or so of the fluid is thrown
over for the delectation of Tourists. One of them, observing this
arrangement, said that the Proprietor
“ Began to pail his ineffectual Fyres.”
[This story is quite false, which would he of no consequence, but
that every Scottish Tourist knows it to be false. Our Contributor
should really be more careful. ]
classic courtship.
How our young friend Cecil Wyse wooed his prettv present wife.
He said to her, tenderly, Sapere aude. And she did dare.