Punch (73.1877)

September 8, 1877.] PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.

107

It M ft B JRi

H HAVRE Iff

A SLIGHT " MALONGTONGDEW."

Angelina. "There are to be Illuminations and Fireworks, and they're to finish
up with an ' Ombrasmong General.' What can that be?"

Edwin. "Well, 'Ombrasser' means to 'Kiss;' so I suppose it means a kind of a

sort of a general KrSSING all round."

Angelina. "Horrid Idea! I won't go near the place, and I'm sure you shan't,
Edwin !"

\Our readers, who know French letter than E. and A., are aware that embrasement, with
only one "s," has a totally different meaning.

PAST AND PRESENT;

Or, Detraction Hade Easy.

Here 's to the Past! 'Tis safe to praise

The ghosts of vanished glories,
To laud the lights of other days,

Old Whigs or ancient Tories ;
To vaunt the men of earlier times,

The belles of other seasons.
The sweetness of forgotten rhymes,

The power of dead men's reasons.

Dead dames than ours were not more fair,

Nor buried heroes stronger.
But then they share this virtue rare—

They stop the way no longer.
It nothing costs to feign regret

At glory's waning crescent,
And optimistically set

The Past against the Present.

But here's a still astuter plan—

Pet dodge of the detractor : ;
Take the to-day of some great man—

Wit, Statesman, Artist, Actor—■
Which, with a dolorous display

Of half indignant sorrow,
Compare with his bright yesterday

And ominous to-morrow.

" Alas ! " you sigh, with tear in eye,

" That such a reputation
Should ruined be so recklessly,

And court humiliation ! "
And then you pull a solemn face,

And shake a boding noddle
At one who is his time's disgrace,

And ivas its pride and model.

To mourn the wit once wont to shine,
Now robbed of all its glitter ;

The eloquence, of old divine,
Now blatant, bald, and bitter :

That's the sly game by which a name
Is blurred 'neath slander's haze,

Which once, you groan, was voiced by
Fame,

And theme, of all men's praises.

There never was a present time

When present praise'.you granted;
But snowy robes show up your slime,

And contrast's all that's wanted.
Detraction knows no daintier toil,

No trick more safe and pleasant,
Than brightening Glory's past to spoil

The splendour of its present.

THE LATE ECLIPSE.

Me. Punch has received the following letter from a Correspon-
dent, who desires that it may be inserted. He cannot publish it,
however, without remarking that, judging from its contents, it may
possibly have been intended for the columns of one of his contem-
poraries.

To the Editor.

Sir,—It is with great regret that I have delayed so long in
addressing this letter to you, as I feel that science will suffer
through the oversight. Immediately after the Eclipse I wrote out
a long telegram, which was duly despatched to the Post-office.
Will you believe it, Sir—that it was returned, with the remark that
its meaning was unintelligible ? Lord John Manners should see to
this. However, I have preserved my notes, which I now forward
to you. I may preface them by stating that, to be in good time, we
dined at six o'clock, and finished our coffee at eight precisely.

810.—Looked out for the penumbra. Could not see it. The
moon seemed to be rather unsteady, and staggered about between
the chimney-pots.

8'20.—The moon still unsteady. Penumbra nowhere. As the air
was chilly, we thought we had better take a little hot brandy-and-
water.

8 '40.—After our third glass we again looked at the moon. It was
very vague indeed—in fact it was most difficult to define its shape.

The penumbra seemed to be dodging behind the trees. No amount
of whistling would make it show itself.

9. —Fourth glass of brandy-and-water. Moon still vague.

9"40.—Shadows on the moons (there were two of them by this
time) were distinctly visible. The first moon seemed to be blue
with dark brown spots—the second pink.

10. —Stars all over the place, and six moons of various shapes.
10.30.—Ninth glass of brandy-and-water. We were perfectly

charmed with the eclipse. The moons (now straw-coloured) danced
a quadrille for our amusement. So far as we could make out, Venus,
Neptune, and Mars, were mixed up with the penumbra.

10.40.—End of the eclipse. After we had taken our tenth glass of
brandy-and-water we could see nothing.

There, Sir, is my Diary. In its original form it was less intel-
ligible, as it was written at moments of great excitement. However,
I have touched it up and yet preserved its original air of truthful-
ness. I cannot conclude my letter without declaring the late total
eclipse to be one of the most extraordinary things I have ever seen
in my life. Yours obediently,

One who Admires Astronomy.

The Hermit's Retreat, Coniac, France.

the right man in the right place.

Appoint a Smith our Admiralty-Chief ?
Why not—seeing iron-clads oft come to grief ?