DOI issue:
October 30, 1880
DOI Page / Citation link:https://doi.org/10.11588/diglit.17764#0203
'October 30, 1880.] PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.
195
NON BEN (LOMOND) TROVATO.
Eory (fresh from the hills). “ Hech, Mon 1 Ye’re loassin’ a’ ter Waiter ! ! ”
Aungus. “ Hatjd yer Tongue, ye Feul ! Ett’s latt oot to stoap the Laddies erae Ridin’ Ahint ! ! ”
DIARY OP A BURGLAR.
Monday.—Yesterday’s rest and attendance at my favourite place
•of worship, has wonderfully refreshed me. Feel lit for anything.
Lay in a little more gunpowder, as people are getting so absurdly
suspicious and will insist on keeping loaded firearms in their bed-
rooms, a most dangerous practice. Also inspect my jemmies,
knuckle-dusters, and skeleton-keys, and clean my favourite revolver
for night-work. Think about purchasing some dynamite. Would
•it assist me? Fill up my list of engagements for the week, which
includes some pretty little pieces of business in the suburbs.
Tuesday.—Good swag yesterday. Prather unpleasant work, though.
Found five hull-dogs in the hall, who fiew at me. Shot them all,
then with last barrel was obliged to shoot a youth, who very injudi-
ciously displayed objections to my being in his room at 2 a.m. with
a revolver and blackened mask on. No accounting for tastes. All my
•co-pals say I look extremely well in the mask. What shall it be
to-night ? One of the new steel-plated burglar-proof villas at
Blackheath, I think.
Wednesday.—Easily got into the burglar-proof villa—pretty
house inside, tastefully furnished, called “Rose Villa”—pretty
name, too. A curious incident occurred. I had collected several
watches, clocks, valuable pictures, bracelets and other jewellery, on
the grass-plot in front of the house, when who should come by but
a policeman ! Never so astonished in my life. Hadn’t seen one for
years. Quite taken aback. He immediately evinced a desire to
make my further acquaintance—which, considering how occupied I
was at the moment, was in excessively bad taste, I thought. How-
ever, I put two bullets in his leg, carried off my booty in a cart
which was waiting for me outside—never mind who was driving it!—
and arrived at home, I regret to say, rather tired, owing to the
labour of collecting so much material. Shall rest to-morrow, and
send to inquire after the policeman, whose number I took before
leaving.
Fridayr.—Last night did a very stylish little piece of work.
Robbed Spurgeon’s house ! Not so much for the swag, as to create
a sensation. Have always been a follower and admirer of his, hut
shouldn’t have been if I’d known how precious few valuables he
keeps on the establishment. Nothing but tracts, and reports, and
“ Notes for Discourses ” 1 Returned these, of course, after reading
one or two—especially one very eloquent discourse on “Theft.”
Returned the whole lot,—with compliments on the admirable lan-
guage of the one I have mentioned,—apologising for their temporary
abstraction. Shall really think about giving up my pew—quite
disgusted.
NEIGHBOURS.
“ While cherishing the fact that ‘ his house is his castle,’ a London resident
should consider the comfort of others, and remember that he should not con-
duct himself quite as if residing in the country, with no one within a mile of
him.”—Queen, Oct. 1G, 1880.
My house is my castle, of course, well then come,
Little Willie, and play on your whistle and druta ;
Tap the dish-cover, dear, if you like with a spoon,
Let the dog loose to-nigb(t, for he howls at the moon.
I always liked music, and don’t understand
The objections folks make to a big German band.
Give the dear organgrinder a penny to play,
Oar piano, of course, will be going all day.
Call as loud as you like on the steps, we rejoice
As a family should, in our loudness of voice.
Buy as much as you can at the door, while the shou,t
Of the vendors of merchandise echoes about. . ,
Let us get some more birds, with the earliest light
They will sing, putting invalid slumbers to flight.
A fig for my neighbour, his nerves, and his ease,
My house is my castle! I ’ll do as I please !
THE DANCING SCOTCHMAN.
An institution that ought to have been kept up specially for the
Caledonian BaU—All Macs.
195
NON BEN (LOMOND) TROVATO.
Eory (fresh from the hills). “ Hech, Mon 1 Ye’re loassin’ a’ ter Waiter ! ! ”
Aungus. “ Hatjd yer Tongue, ye Feul ! Ett’s latt oot to stoap the Laddies erae Ridin’ Ahint ! ! ”
DIARY OP A BURGLAR.
Monday.—Yesterday’s rest and attendance at my favourite place
•of worship, has wonderfully refreshed me. Feel lit for anything.
Lay in a little more gunpowder, as people are getting so absurdly
suspicious and will insist on keeping loaded firearms in their bed-
rooms, a most dangerous practice. Also inspect my jemmies,
knuckle-dusters, and skeleton-keys, and clean my favourite revolver
for night-work. Think about purchasing some dynamite. Would
•it assist me? Fill up my list of engagements for the week, which
includes some pretty little pieces of business in the suburbs.
Tuesday.—Good swag yesterday. Prather unpleasant work, though.
Found five hull-dogs in the hall, who fiew at me. Shot them all,
then with last barrel was obliged to shoot a youth, who very injudi-
ciously displayed objections to my being in his room at 2 a.m. with
a revolver and blackened mask on. No accounting for tastes. All my
•co-pals say I look extremely well in the mask. What shall it be
to-night ? One of the new steel-plated burglar-proof villas at
Blackheath, I think.
Wednesday.—Easily got into the burglar-proof villa—pretty
house inside, tastefully furnished, called “Rose Villa”—pretty
name, too. A curious incident occurred. I had collected several
watches, clocks, valuable pictures, bracelets and other jewellery, on
the grass-plot in front of the house, when who should come by but
a policeman ! Never so astonished in my life. Hadn’t seen one for
years. Quite taken aback. He immediately evinced a desire to
make my further acquaintance—which, considering how occupied I
was at the moment, was in excessively bad taste, I thought. How-
ever, I put two bullets in his leg, carried off my booty in a cart
which was waiting for me outside—never mind who was driving it!—
and arrived at home, I regret to say, rather tired, owing to the
labour of collecting so much material. Shall rest to-morrow, and
send to inquire after the policeman, whose number I took before
leaving.
Fridayr.—Last night did a very stylish little piece of work.
Robbed Spurgeon’s house ! Not so much for the swag, as to create
a sensation. Have always been a follower and admirer of his, hut
shouldn’t have been if I’d known how precious few valuables he
keeps on the establishment. Nothing but tracts, and reports, and
“ Notes for Discourses ” 1 Returned these, of course, after reading
one or two—especially one very eloquent discourse on “Theft.”
Returned the whole lot,—with compliments on the admirable lan-
guage of the one I have mentioned,—apologising for their temporary
abstraction. Shall really think about giving up my pew—quite
disgusted.
NEIGHBOURS.
“ While cherishing the fact that ‘ his house is his castle,’ a London resident
should consider the comfort of others, and remember that he should not con-
duct himself quite as if residing in the country, with no one within a mile of
him.”—Queen, Oct. 1G, 1880.
My house is my castle, of course, well then come,
Little Willie, and play on your whistle and druta ;
Tap the dish-cover, dear, if you like with a spoon,
Let the dog loose to-nigb(t, for he howls at the moon.
I always liked music, and don’t understand
The objections folks make to a big German band.
Give the dear organgrinder a penny to play,
Oar piano, of course, will be going all day.
Call as loud as you like on the steps, we rejoice
As a family should, in our loudness of voice.
Buy as much as you can at the door, while the shou,t
Of the vendors of merchandise echoes about. . ,
Let us get some more birds, with the earliest light
They will sing, putting invalid slumbers to flight.
A fig for my neighbour, his nerves, and his ease,
My house is my castle! I ’ll do as I please !
THE DANCING SCOTCHMAN.
An institution that ought to have been kept up specially for the
Caledonian BaU—All Macs.