DOI Heft:
July 18, 1874
DOI Seite / Zitierlink:https://doi.org/10.11588/diglit.16939#0039
J..1Y 18 1874.] PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. 81
THE COMET.
“ Look at it ’bee, Bill ! You ketch it Sideways ’ere ! ! ”
WANTED, A PUBLICAN’S DICTIONARY,
Wanted, a Lexicon,
Publishers, please!
Not one in Mexican,
Sanskrit, Chinese!
One for the Publican,
Eager to hear,
When in his bubbly can
He may froth beer.
Show him for stop o’ lnsh
Eight time o’ day ;
What is a “ populush
Place,” please to say.
How’s a poor Wittier to
Know what’s “ a town,”
Which Lords, and Lawyers to
Tell, are done brown ?
He has heard City-ways,
Talk o’ gasometers,
But what, for pity, say ’s
“ Alcoholometers” ?
To spare him worrits,
Do make it clear—
How much turps in sperrits,
How much “ foots ” in beer ?
But by one gray’ller he ’s
Most sorely tried—
What is “a traveller,” he
Asks, ‘ ‘ bond fide f ”
Some say bona fide ’s
The regular cheese—
But what he can’t abide is
“ Sich wasting of e’s.”
“ Words are transmogrified,”
Sighs poor old Stingo,
“ One feels out-jographied
Quite, with their lingo.
Which I ’m tired o’ my life with,
Till sleep is denied:
And I wakes up my wife with
‘ Are you bond fide f ’ ”
88° IN THE SHADE.
{By a Humble Householder.)
Hail, Perspiration ! Thou, whose gracious drops,
From ’neath my hat, adown my whiskers roll,
Leaving a reddened and a dirty rim
About my manly and exuding brow.
Now to my fervent back firmly adheres
That portion of my vesture termed my shirt;
And from my gloves, reduced to pleasant pulp,
My hands receive the imprint of the dye.
Now, in my patent leathers (hitherto
Too large), my swelling feet gigantic throb ;
The whiles my best black West of England coat
Is thickly powdered with the decent dust;
Till, walking in some shady, cool retreat,
The spirting, squirting hydrostatic van
Sprinkles (and spoils) my pants, and quick converts
The arid asphalt to a greasy slide.
How pleasant then to feel within my grasp
The moistening and mottled palm of Smith,
And part with sixpences for cooling drinks
For Smith and for Smith’s friend! Now is the time
When, with excited eye and lolling tongue,
Along the street careers the frequent cur,
And Hydrophobia lurks in every lane.
Comes now the blue-bottle with blithesome buzz,
And to corruption turns our leg of lamb,
What time the greedy and sore struggling fly
The oily butter chooses for his lair,
While round our nose careers the pleasant wasp.
And haply, toward the sultry afternoon,
The busy housewife, trembling in her shoes,
With hearthrug covers up the shining grate,
And, while the thunderstorm is passing by,
In the coal-cellar hides her timid head.
Then to the theatre, where, ere played out
The piece we much desired to have seen,
The close, gas-heated air affects the loved
Wife of our bosom that she straightway faints.
So home to Camberwell by half-past nine—
(And four-and-sixpence for a four-wheeled cab).
But what of night ? Then beetles blithely swarm
In kitchens back; then squeaks and eke mol-rows
The necessary cat. With stealthy step,
Through the low casement, left ajar for air,
To grasp plate-baskets genial burglars stalk;
The while ourselves in restless slumber toss’d,
And hovered over by the murmurous gnat,
Discarding blankets, struggling with the. sheets,
Dream of a swimming match in boiling oil!
0, Summer! glorious summer ! Go it, Summer I
FRENCH PARLIAMENTARY UNIFORMS FOR THE HOT
WEATHER.
Imperialists.—Costume—Yiolet velvet, lined with sword-proof
leather. Ornaments—Iron collars, steel helmets, and buff boxing-
gloves.
Democrats.—Costume—Chain armour, covered with red baize.
Ornaments—Bowie-knives and hempen cravats.
Royalists.—Costume—White cloth, padded with cork-shavings.
Ornaments—Speaking-trumpets and dog-whistles.
Ministers of State.—Costume—Turned coats, bound with (imita-
tion) official lace. Ornaments—Portfolios in pasteboard and tinsel.
The President of the Republic.—Costume—Uniform of a Marshal
of France. Ornaments—Bayonets and rifled artillery.
La Belle France. — Costume — Tricolor tunic and Cap of
“ Liberty.” Ornaments—Gag and a strait-waistcoat.
Political Astrology.
The Comet appears to have betokened Mr. Gladstone’s re-
appearance in the House of Commons, and to forebode hot debates
on the Public Worship Bill.
THE COMET.
“ Look at it ’bee, Bill ! You ketch it Sideways ’ere ! ! ”
WANTED, A PUBLICAN’S DICTIONARY,
Wanted, a Lexicon,
Publishers, please!
Not one in Mexican,
Sanskrit, Chinese!
One for the Publican,
Eager to hear,
When in his bubbly can
He may froth beer.
Show him for stop o’ lnsh
Eight time o’ day ;
What is a “ populush
Place,” please to say.
How’s a poor Wittier to
Know what’s “ a town,”
Which Lords, and Lawyers to
Tell, are done brown ?
He has heard City-ways,
Talk o’ gasometers,
But what, for pity, say ’s
“ Alcoholometers” ?
To spare him worrits,
Do make it clear—
How much turps in sperrits,
How much “ foots ” in beer ?
But by one gray’ller he ’s
Most sorely tried—
What is “a traveller,” he
Asks, ‘ ‘ bond fide f ”
Some say bona fide ’s
The regular cheese—
But what he can’t abide is
“ Sich wasting of e’s.”
“ Words are transmogrified,”
Sighs poor old Stingo,
“ One feels out-jographied
Quite, with their lingo.
Which I ’m tired o’ my life with,
Till sleep is denied:
And I wakes up my wife with
‘ Are you bond fide f ’ ”
88° IN THE SHADE.
{By a Humble Householder.)
Hail, Perspiration ! Thou, whose gracious drops,
From ’neath my hat, adown my whiskers roll,
Leaving a reddened and a dirty rim
About my manly and exuding brow.
Now to my fervent back firmly adheres
That portion of my vesture termed my shirt;
And from my gloves, reduced to pleasant pulp,
My hands receive the imprint of the dye.
Now, in my patent leathers (hitherto
Too large), my swelling feet gigantic throb ;
The whiles my best black West of England coat
Is thickly powdered with the decent dust;
Till, walking in some shady, cool retreat,
The spirting, squirting hydrostatic van
Sprinkles (and spoils) my pants, and quick converts
The arid asphalt to a greasy slide.
How pleasant then to feel within my grasp
The moistening and mottled palm of Smith,
And part with sixpences for cooling drinks
For Smith and for Smith’s friend! Now is the time
When, with excited eye and lolling tongue,
Along the street careers the frequent cur,
And Hydrophobia lurks in every lane.
Comes now the blue-bottle with blithesome buzz,
And to corruption turns our leg of lamb,
What time the greedy and sore struggling fly
The oily butter chooses for his lair,
While round our nose careers the pleasant wasp.
And haply, toward the sultry afternoon,
The busy housewife, trembling in her shoes,
With hearthrug covers up the shining grate,
And, while the thunderstorm is passing by,
In the coal-cellar hides her timid head.
Then to the theatre, where, ere played out
The piece we much desired to have seen,
The close, gas-heated air affects the loved
Wife of our bosom that she straightway faints.
So home to Camberwell by half-past nine—
(And four-and-sixpence for a four-wheeled cab).
But what of night ? Then beetles blithely swarm
In kitchens back; then squeaks and eke mol-rows
The necessary cat. With stealthy step,
Through the low casement, left ajar for air,
To grasp plate-baskets genial burglars stalk;
The while ourselves in restless slumber toss’d,
And hovered over by the murmurous gnat,
Discarding blankets, struggling with the. sheets,
Dream of a swimming match in boiling oil!
0, Summer! glorious summer ! Go it, Summer I
FRENCH PARLIAMENTARY UNIFORMS FOR THE HOT
WEATHER.
Imperialists.—Costume—Yiolet velvet, lined with sword-proof
leather. Ornaments—Iron collars, steel helmets, and buff boxing-
gloves.
Democrats.—Costume—Chain armour, covered with red baize.
Ornaments—Bowie-knives and hempen cravats.
Royalists.—Costume—White cloth, padded with cork-shavings.
Ornaments—Speaking-trumpets and dog-whistles.
Ministers of State.—Costume—Turned coats, bound with (imita-
tion) official lace. Ornaments—Portfolios in pasteboard and tinsel.
The President of the Republic.—Costume—Uniform of a Marshal
of France. Ornaments—Bayonets and rifled artillery.
La Belle France. — Costume — Tricolor tunic and Cap of
“ Liberty.” Ornaments—Gag and a strait-waistcoat.
Political Astrology.
The Comet appears to have betokened Mr. Gladstone’s re-
appearance in the House of Commons, and to forebode hot debates
on the Public Worship Bill.