Punch (65.1873)

September

PUNCH, OP THE LONDON CHARIVARI.

PAITH AND FASHION.

Mr. Punch,

Like one or two more people of my acquaintance, I am away
on a holiday, and the place of my temporary abode being very slow
and very fashionable, where excursion vans and trains are unknown,
i of course I follow the general example, and go to Church, and find
myself one of several hundred strangers, who are trying “ to catch
the Verger’s eye; ” which, by the bye, I find accomplished quickest
by those who carry their right hand in the waistcoat pocket.

I took the liberty of taking stock of my fellow occupants of
Pew 2000 on Sunday last. There were six in all (except a child,
who sat on a mat), including myself—the only male. No. One, at
the top, carried at least—as tne Yankees say—“five hundred
dollars’worth of drygoods on her back;” and she had a little girl of
about six years old, like a little dancing dog, who carried in lace
another two hundred dollars’ worth. There were, besides, her
mother’s jewellery, parasol, scent-bottle, fan, and Prayer-book,
which was the most expensive money could buy. She was a hand-
some woman, and divided her time between fanning herself,
arranging her necklace, which was very handsome and massive,
and using her gold-topped bottle.

Next to her sat an unmarried sister—very much ditto all round.

. Next to the sister sat a charming, neat-looking, middle-aged,
single lady, who evidently adopts the modern very high style, and,
probably, was interested in the Baldacchino question—but simple
and quiet withal; though she bobbed about like a perch-fioat
towards sunset.

And, next to her, came two sisters. 0, Mr. Punch, they were
two ladies—Grecian features, small heads, plainly plaited hair, no
chignon, small round brown straw hats, with simple ribbons of the
same colour, trimmed with a little heather, and ornamented with
smja^ flower, perfectly plain dresses of Indian cloth or brown
holland, made by themselves with a sewing-machine, were all the
attractions, except their faces, which they boasted. They looked
! like two angels, and sang like angels too.

Then I thought to myself, suppose I was to marry that over-

dressed girl, No. Two in the Pew, what would happen ? Say she
has three hundred a year—the first thing she would do would be to
spend six hundred on dress, and cry for a carriage. The trousseau
would, probably, not all be paid for; there would be a mob of
millionnaires, and no end of speeches, at the wedding, and a regular
show-room of wedding presents, all worth nothing, or next to
nothing, as regards utility. By Jove! I would sooner take the
Ritualistic old maid!

Suppose I was to marry one of those angels, and that I had three
hundred pounds a year—she would make it go as far as I would !
make five hundred. Probably they neither have any money, but
haven’t they friends ? There would be wedding presents, too, and
useful ones—table-cloths from one uncle, a few spoons from another,
a cheque for fifty pounds from the Squire of the Parish, a silver
tea-pot from the parishioners and Sunday-school children, and all
kinds of tokens of love and affection which simplicity and good
breeding always attract.

There, that’s enough ! But let me advise young ladies who want
husbands to put not their trust in chignons and gimcracks, for
men don’t like them,

Yours, Mr. Punch, obediently,

Hard Hit.

P.S.—I mean to go to Church again, and sit in the same Pew—it
does me good.

P.S. No. 2.—I have been to Church again. Please send me a
quart of prussic acid and a brace of pistols. They are both going
to be married.

The March of Science.

The amount of electricity in the human frame must be much
greater than philosophers have hitherto supposed, for we notice that
billiard-tables, are now supplied “ provided with Electric Markers.”
Perhaps, this is only the first result of some new scientific discovery,
which will speedily supply us in succession with Electric Waiters,
Electric Postmen, and Electric Policemen.

ELECTOR TO HIMSELF.

How much better off are we
For a Liberal Ministry ?

Much ? No better ? Or the worse
In position or in purse ?

Do I find that they have done
Good or ill to me, for one ?

Am I happier at this hour
Than when they came into power ?
Have I less to pay, or more,

Now than what I had before ?

Am I freer to do my pleasure,

Or restrained in greater measure ?

If the Ministry remain,

Is my prospect loss or gain ?

Is it—let alone the Nation—

I ncreased or reduced taxation ?

Will their great Reforms redouble,

Or abate, my plague and trouble ?
Liberate me from inflictions,.

Or enslave with new restrictions ?

As I answer query, “or,”

I shall vote against or for,
Irrespectively of names,.

Party ties and party claims.

Not Conservative reaction;

Liberal dissatisfaction,

Which coercive laws awaken,

Rather has allegiance shaken.

Whom I vote for don’t inquire ;

Then you’ll render me no liar.

By one measure I am better,

For the Secret Yote a debtor.

Nicer boon for your true Briton,

Than the Ballot, ne’er was hit on.
Gratitude for further favours
May reclaim the mind that wavers;

But things must be made more pleasant
Than they are for us at present.

BROKEN ENGLISH.

Mrs. Malaprop is staying at an old farm-house in
one of the Middling Counties, and writes word that it is
in a very “diplidated” condition.

“ LET THE TOAST GO ROUND.”

Good, Templar. “Vert warm, Coachman. Have a Drop?”

Coachman. “Thank te, Sir. (Drinks.) Auch ! 0, Murder! ’Am

Poisoned !—What’s that ? ”

Good Templar. “ Only Toast-and-Water ! ”