DOI Heft:
October 23, 1880
DOI Seite / Zitierlink:https://doi.org/10.11588/diglit.17764#0199
October 23, 1880.]
PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.
THE CLOCK AND THE DRAGON.
A Dialogue in Fleet Street.
Clock [expressing as much astonishment as a blank countenance
is capable of). Hillo I why, who are you f
Dragon. Oh ! I’m a Dragon.
Clock. Humph ! didn’t twig you with that canvas bag on.
Who stuck you there ?
Dragon. Those City sumphs.
Clock. How funny!
Dragon. Ah! and I cost a jolly lot of money.
Clock. What are you going to do P
Dragon. Why, stand and ramp,
Exposed to London soot, and mud, and damp,
Till dirtier than my types in ancient time,
Who fought and wallowed in primaeval slime.
Clock. Disgusting destiny ! As had as mine is.
Dragon. Ah ! I was going to ask you what your line is.
Clock. Ah, I’m a clock.
Dragon. _ The deuce you are! How curious!
And with no hands ?
Clock. There, don’t! You make me furious.
I’m Fleet Street’s hutt.
Dragon. I’m sure I am no use;
And as for beauty, Mr. Street’s abuse-
Clock. Don’t mention him, I’ve cause to doubt his taste.
Who fashioned you ?
Dragon. A Mr. Birch.
Clock. What waste
Of honest metal! Birch deserves the rod.
An ugly useless pair, our fate is odd.
Dragon! You are a type of Civic folly
That puts the drag on progress.
Dragon. Melancholy
But pregnant pair. And you are London’s mock,
A hideous, handless, time-ignoring Clock.
Wo blame to us, for could we choose our lot-
Clock. Mine were oblivion.
Dragon. Mine the melting pot.
[Left lamenting.
A Cologne-ial Grievance.
What do the papers mean by announcing “The Opening of
Cologne Cathedral,” as if it were a startimg novelty? I’ve been to
Cologne five times within the last five years, and always found the
Cathedral open. Once, very early in the morning, as I was returning
from an evening party, I saw the “ Swiss ” opening the Cathedral by
himself. But there was no ceremony of any kind on that occasion,
except a mere passing nod on my part, which he acknowledged most
civilly. If you don’t believe me, I refer you to the little English
Cologney of residents. Yours,
Newcastle. Coax Owner.
Sweets for the Shameless.
In evidence given before the Gloucester Election Committee, the
other day, a witness incidentally mentioned that—
“The popular name for bribery money was ‘Sugar,’ and a place where
it was distributed was known as the ‘ sugar shop.’ ”
Not alone in Gloucester, hut in corrupt boroughs generally,
amongst electoral rogues, the “ Thieves’ Latin,” or slang synonym
for a pecuniary bribe, is “Sugar.” In this country of Free Trade,
the sums distributed amongst corrupt constituencies to venal voters
are the only payments which can he pointed at with the finger of
disgust under the name of “ Sugar Bounties.”
LISTENERS NEVER HEAR,” &c.
Old Chickory [of Crutchcd Friars) had lounged into the Garden with his cigar. He was on a visit to his brother-in-law, and had been potting
about his Preserves for a day or two with the Keeper—[the Squire wouldn't go). He hears voices round the cornet—it was
William [talking to his Master). “ We got on better to-day. Sir. But a Choke-Bore ain’t no use to he—he want a Gun
as ’ll cover a whole Barn, Sir, he do ! ” [The Alderman returns to London at the end of the Month, a wiser if not a better shoe!
PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.
THE CLOCK AND THE DRAGON.
A Dialogue in Fleet Street.
Clock [expressing as much astonishment as a blank countenance
is capable of). Hillo I why, who are you f
Dragon. Oh ! I’m a Dragon.
Clock. Humph ! didn’t twig you with that canvas bag on.
Who stuck you there ?
Dragon. Those City sumphs.
Clock. How funny!
Dragon. Ah! and I cost a jolly lot of money.
Clock. What are you going to do P
Dragon. Why, stand and ramp,
Exposed to London soot, and mud, and damp,
Till dirtier than my types in ancient time,
Who fought and wallowed in primaeval slime.
Clock. Disgusting destiny ! As had as mine is.
Dragon. Ah ! I was going to ask you what your line is.
Clock. Ah, I’m a clock.
Dragon. _ The deuce you are! How curious!
And with no hands ?
Clock. There, don’t! You make me furious.
I’m Fleet Street’s hutt.
Dragon. I’m sure I am no use;
And as for beauty, Mr. Street’s abuse-
Clock. Don’t mention him, I’ve cause to doubt his taste.
Who fashioned you ?
Dragon. A Mr. Birch.
Clock. What waste
Of honest metal! Birch deserves the rod.
An ugly useless pair, our fate is odd.
Dragon! You are a type of Civic folly
That puts the drag on progress.
Dragon. Melancholy
But pregnant pair. And you are London’s mock,
A hideous, handless, time-ignoring Clock.
Wo blame to us, for could we choose our lot-
Clock. Mine were oblivion.
Dragon. Mine the melting pot.
[Left lamenting.
A Cologne-ial Grievance.
What do the papers mean by announcing “The Opening of
Cologne Cathedral,” as if it were a startimg novelty? I’ve been to
Cologne five times within the last five years, and always found the
Cathedral open. Once, very early in the morning, as I was returning
from an evening party, I saw the “ Swiss ” opening the Cathedral by
himself. But there was no ceremony of any kind on that occasion,
except a mere passing nod on my part, which he acknowledged most
civilly. If you don’t believe me, I refer you to the little English
Cologney of residents. Yours,
Newcastle. Coax Owner.
Sweets for the Shameless.
In evidence given before the Gloucester Election Committee, the
other day, a witness incidentally mentioned that—
“The popular name for bribery money was ‘Sugar,’ and a place where
it was distributed was known as the ‘ sugar shop.’ ”
Not alone in Gloucester, hut in corrupt boroughs generally,
amongst electoral rogues, the “ Thieves’ Latin,” or slang synonym
for a pecuniary bribe, is “Sugar.” In this country of Free Trade,
the sums distributed amongst corrupt constituencies to venal voters
are the only payments which can he pointed at with the finger of
disgust under the name of “ Sugar Bounties.”
LISTENERS NEVER HEAR,” &c.
Old Chickory [of Crutchcd Friars) had lounged into the Garden with his cigar. He was on a visit to his brother-in-law, and had been potting
about his Preserves for a day or two with the Keeper—[the Squire wouldn't go). He hears voices round the cornet—it was
William [talking to his Master). “ We got on better to-day. Sir. But a Choke-Bore ain’t no use to he—he want a Gun
as ’ll cover a whole Barn, Sir, he do ! ” [The Alderman returns to London at the end of the Month, a wiser if not a better shoe!