Punch (72.1877)

264

PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI

[June 9, 1877.

SABBATH-BREAK! ^G.

Scotch Cook. "Whisht! There's Master Whustlin' o' the Saubath ! Losh
save us ! an' 'Maggie Lauder,' too!"

A YOICE FROM "GIB."

"We are, thank Heaven, familiar in these days with all sorts of kindly
movements for all sorts of improvements in the lot of all sorts of people, from
Cabmen and Costermongers upwards. But few classes have profited more by
this kindliness of the time than our Soldiers. In our home barracks reading
and recreation-rooms, but lately altogether unknown, are now the rule rather
than the exception. On Stations abroad, as such resorts for leisure hours are
more needed than at home. Punch had supposed that they were quite as common
as in British barracks. What was his surprise to learn, the other day, that
there is no such thing as a soldiers' reading and recreation-room at Gibraltar,
with its garrison of more than five thousand men, its oppressive climate, its
temptations to vice and excess, and the exclusion of its garrison from most of
the out-door amusements accessible to the soldier at home and in our more
temperate colonies and dependencies !

There is a movement on foot for supplying this strange sin of omission,
which Punch presumes has but to be known to be put an end to. A " Gib.
cat" is a recognised symbol of melancholy, and a "Gib. soldier" is not the
image a man would choose to convey the idea of joyousness. But though the
Rock 'is not a " quartiere allegro," any more than the Rock is a joyous news-
paper, under the best of circumstances, the cut of its jib would be materially
improved by an " Institute," (if that imposing word is the right one to use of a
modest place of resort for the soldier when off duty,) with reading and recrea-
tion-rooms where he can join in unobjectionable games, and a coffee and
refreshment-room where he can empty any number of the cups that cheer but
not inebriate. For his own part, Punch sees no objection to the provision of
wholesome beer or light wines as well. But probably the canteen-keepers have
a vested monopoly in these, within barrack bounds, and would object to the
granting of any licence for even the wholesomest form of tipple on which a man
could get drunk even under the most insuperable difficulties.

Punch has only had to receive notice of such a want to give it the benefit
of his world-wide rooti-too-it, and to add that donations may be sent to the
Treasurer, Captain M. Wilbraham Taylor, Rifle Brigade, Gibraltar, or to the
credit of the Soldiers' Institute, Gibraltar, at Messrs. Barclay, Bevan & Co.,
U, Lombard Street, or Messrs. Ransom, Botjverie & Co., 1, Pall Mall East, S. W.

Forbidden Fruits — Those of Philosophy d la Brae-laugh.

A POET ON SPELLING.

"I am not afraid of ridicule, and I have a strong opinion on
the spelling question. I cannot be present at your meeting, but
you are quite welcome to my opinion. There are, I am in-
formed, thirty-nine sounds in the English language. There are
twenty-four letters. I think that each letter should represent
one sound, that fifteen new letters should be added, so that there
be a letter for every sound, and that every one should write as
lie speaks.—Mr. Lowe's Letter read at the Conference on Spell-
ing Reform, held at the Society of Arts, Adelphi.

Rash man, refrain! These are momentous times
For poets. Muffs are meddling with our rhymes.
Is't not enough that measure's set aside,
And every ancient rule of rhythm defied,
By that amorphous lunatic Walt Whitman,
But that the likes of Mr. Isaac Pitman
Must make a raid on rhymes, and Cadmus-Lowe
Add fifteen brand-new letters at a blow
To our redundant alphabet ? Thirty-nine !
An ominous number. Ask a shrewd divine.
'Twill tend to strife if the phonetic particles
Are made co-numerous with the Church's Articles.
The very prospect fills me with affright;
I've now an inkling when my rhymes are right,
But right from wrong I'm sure there'll be no telling,
If Pitman plays the mischief with our spelling;
What pleasure would e'en Milton's muse afford,
His spells reshaped by an Artemus Ward !
Would gentle readers waste their sighs or shillings
On Byron, if phoneticised by Billings ? _
What bard would care to write of Love, if he
AVere bound to spell it with an 1-u-v ?
Who'd pipe of ladies i's ? Who'd not refuse
To invoke a crabbed creature called the Muz ?
And where's the amorous bard could be so stupid
As chant the praises of a god named Qpid ?
Absurd ! Methinks on poet's page I gaze, .
No fair trim garden, but a tangled maze
Of typographic tongue-traps. And for what ?
To save young spellists trouble ! Horrid rot!
Muller may mouth, and Bikkers vaunt how much
Our spelling falls below his crackjaw Dutch :
Pitman may swear " e-a" defies all law—
(His favourite vocable should be " e-haw ! ") ;
Ellis may make his " Glossic " system known,
And Sweet be very sweet upon his own ;
('Tis nice to know the rival hobbies clash—
One hopes the tilt may end in general smash)—
It will not do. Bards must not have their lines
Defaced by diacritic marks and signs,
Or spoilt by comic spelling. Learned bores,
Drive not the sickened Muses from our shores !
They can put up with doubtful etymology,
They do not care a fraction for philology,
But they must leave Old England, with regret,
If Lowe lays hands upon her Alphabet;
And far from the Adelphi make their dwelling,
If Pitman sets his spell upon her spelling.

The Homoeopathy oe War.—Treating a revolting
tribe with revolting cruelty.

Name of the defeated Derby Favourite [adapted to
English pronunciation, by a disgusted Backer).—Sham'un.

AN EXPLANATION.

The Editor of London begs Punch to remove an im-
pression which the Editor thinks may be left by a para-
graph in a late " Essence of Parliament," that a parody
on Wordsworth's " We are Seven," quoted by the
Chancellor of the Exchequer, in the debate on Mr.
Gladstone's Resolutions, had been actually sent to Punch
and rejected by him. What Punch meant was not that
the parody had been consigned to his waste-paper-basket,
but that it was of the quality that usually finds its way
to that well-filled receptacle. He thought when he wrote
this that the lines were Sir Stafford Northcote's own.
Had he known they had actually appeared in London,
he would have guarded himself more carefully against
the misinterpretation which has been put on his very
innocently meant bit of chaff.