Punch: Punch (69.1875)

August 21, 1875.] PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.

73

WANTED, A LOCUM TENENS.

N.B.—CHILDREN OBJECTED TO.

(Vide " Guardian " passim.)

__=_ _ _______want a Locum Tenens, but

in vain, my hopes I build,
Since I find the quivers
clerical so uniformly
filled.

Each unencumbered Bene-
JH^ iv-J dick, each baccalere so

bow;

/Ta^VI^^Pjv Disdains my locum " te-

Ul^A^^^^^^^^x nency "—they call it so !

liXCrwj i \ Xk \ —to hold.

vr^^^^^^^^F In vain I seek for ancno-

J^^^^^^^^^ rites. Instead there

,J^§s3pl? * S^XS? come, in shoals,

^^^^^^'^^^^^H Parents too philoprogeni-

\ ^^^^j)^^^^^^^. c^:~~ tive, whose children,

^-^-f^^^^^^gA <; '.:.„'"" pretty souls !

-^SmsE=~^^^^^^^ "^^-^ So " sadly want a change "

'Z^Zyi^F-^/^^^'^'&f - that into any place

—^^^^v^^^^- S====£±zr: they '11 poke 'em.

-==^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^ I cannot bid such quiver-

. ~'ri^r^- fulls come here tenere

—-—^3g^—SSlHji locum.

—--==^7 jy I am not myself a celibate.

" "^llllfeF ~~— I 'ye daughters from

their teens

Long since run wild to chignon, polonaise, and crinolines.
They make my parsonage pleasant, the parishioners must feel
The rectory in all details is thoroughly genteel.

Whereas each demon boy from school set free, and Tomboy miss,
Who find in tops and toffee their supremacy of bliss,
Would ruin all its neatness. No ; the prospect is too dreary:
Such imps shall never have a chance their locum here tenere.

Still, I must find a substitute; my boy has just come down
From College ; and the girls require at least their month in town:
One's wife must see the fashions — still, I'm forced to bide a wee
bit- _

0, who, without a family, my locum here tenebit ?

I offer easy duty—no Dissenters—landscape fair-
Rectory charming—servants boarded—pony and basket-chair ;
And I want a Locum Tenens, single—and, by failure nothing
daunted,

Still I state my want, and Echo—sportive Echo—still says,
"Wanted!"

THE IMPORTANCE OF BRAINS.

As regards injuries of the nervous system the present day is,
probably, much like the past.

" The times have been
That when the hrain3 were out the man would die,"

Those times do not appear to have ceased to be. Nobody has ever
been known to survive an entire loss of the brain. But, at one of
the late meetings of the British Medical Association at Edinburgh,
in the course of a discussion of some experiments on the brain of
monkeys, Dr. Fletcher said he had known a case " in which a boy
had lost two ounces of his brains, and was none the worse of it."
He added that " he had watched the career of that boy afterwards,
but never found there was any difference in him in any respect after
the occurrence, compared with his condition previously." Where-
upon :—

" Dr Lowe asked whether the boy, when he came to manhood, could drink
as much alcoholic liquor as other people ?

" Dr. Fletcher said that could not be ascertained, as the boy had always
been a teetotaller. {Laughter.)"

The Doctors were evidently tickled by the idea that a teetotaller
lost nothing of any consequence in losing brains. But that does not
quite follow. A boy who had lost two ounces of brain appeared to
1>r. Fletcher to be as wise as he was before. He might have had
wisdom to lose or he might not. The medical philosophers at Edin-
burgh, having had their laugh, could have gone on to ask Dr.
x letcheb. a few questions. Dr. Punch would have proposed these
inquiries to Dr. Fletcher : What did you know about the boy's

test its powers ? Did the injury of the brain extend to both hemi-
spheres, or was_ it confined to one of them ? May it not be that as
loss of one eye is to sight, so is lesion of one hemisphere of the brain
to mind? Or else, then is the brain anything more than mere
padding, as little connected with mind as pudding, and of so much
less noble use than pudding, that there would be something rather
complimentary than otherwise in calling anybody—for instance, a
scientific M.D. and physiologist—a pudding-headed fellow ?

HOW TO ENJOY A HOLIDAY.

A Social Contrast.

I.~The Wrong Wat.

Pater. Here at last! A nice reward for a long and tedious
journey !

Mater. Well, you were always complaining in town.

Pater. Broken chairs, rickety table, and a hideous wall-paper !

Mater. Well, I didn't buy the chairs, make the table, or choose
the wall-paper. Discontent is your strong point.

Pater. And is likely to remain so. Really, that German band is
unbearable!

Mater. My dear, you have no ear for music. Why, you don't
even care for my songs ! Tou used to say you liked them once.
Pater. So I did—thirty years ago !

Mater. Before our marriage ! And I have survived thirty years !
Pater. Eh ? What do you mean by that, Madam ?
Mater. Anything you please. But come—dinner's ready.
Pater. Dinner ! The usual thing, I suppose—underdone fish and
overdone meat!

Mater. Well, I see that you are determined to make the best of
everything, my dear!
Pater. I am glad you think so, my darling !

[And so they sit down to dinner.

II—The Right Wat.

Pater. Here at last! What a charming spot! A fitting sequel
to a very pleasant journey !

Mater. And yet you are very fond of town!

Pater. This room reminds me of my own cozy study. Yenerable
chairs, a strange old table, and a quaintly-designed wall-paper.

Mater. Well, I think if I had had to furnish the house, I should
have chosen the same things myself. But had they been ever so
ugly, I feel sure that you would have liked them. You know, Sir,
that content is your strong point.

Pater. I am sure that I shall find no opportunity of getting any
merit (after the fashion of Mark Tapley) for being contented in this
pleasant spot. What a capital German band !

Mater. I don't believe that you understand anything about music,
Sir. Why, you even pretend that you like my old songs !

Pater. And so I do. Every day I live I like them better and
better. And yet I heard them for the first time thirty years ago !

Mater. When we were married ! And so I have survived thirty
years !

Pater. Eh ? What do you mean by that, Madam ?

Mater. That I am a living proof that kindness never kills. How
happy we have been ! But, come—dinner's ready.

Pater. Dinner I The usual thing, I suppose—a nice piece of fish
and a juicy joint. Now, that's just what I like. So much better
than our pretentious London dinners ! Not that a London dinner is
not very good in its proper place.

Mater. Well, I see that you are determined to make the best of
everything, my dear.

Pater. I am glad you think so, my darling !

[And so they sit down to dinner.

DEPARTURES.

The Marquis of Hartington has gone to Brighton to practise
elocution (like Demosthenes) on the beach.

Mr. Gladstone has gone to study in the Vatican.

The Loed Chancellor has gone to Dunrobin.

Sir Wilfrid Lawson has gone on a round of visits to the various
Aquariums.

Mr. Neweegate has gone into a Monastery, for the recess.
Mr. Spurgeon has gone to the Mendip Hills.
The City Aldermen, in a body, have gone to see the great Turtle
at the Brighton Aquarium.
Rev. A. H. Mackonochie (and his Curates) are going to Rome.
Some people are shooting the Carlists in Spain., . Others have gone
to shoot the Moors.

mind previously to his loss of brain ? How far did you subsequently | Our stout Uncle'and Aunt have gone to Broadstairs