DOI Heft:
January 28, 1882
DOI Seite / Zitierlink: https://doi.org/10.11588/diglit.17752#0056
48
PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHAPJVAPJ. [January 28, 1882.
A DEFINITION WANTED.
“Beg pardon, Sir, but don’t you see the Hotice?”
“ YeS, MY GOOD FeLLOW, BUT I NEVER SAID I WAS A GENTLEMAN ! ”
MONTE CARLO.
(By Our Own Correspondent.)
To leave the fogs and mud of London, to leave the sombre gaieties
of English holiday time, and to exchange for them the warmth and
brilliancy of a Mediterranean winter, the laughter-loving life of the
children of the sunny South; this, indeed, is what the happy man
does who hurries vid Paris and Marseilles to the delectable spot where
I am located. I am writing after a dainty, delicate, dejeuner, which
reminds me in its contrast to the monotonous, uninviting, breakfasts
of home, by an open window. Around it cluster pomegranate,
honeysuckle, and passion-ilowers. The scent of jessamine is strong
on the balmy breezes, and the roses, and the myrtles, the lilies, and
the violets lend their fragrance. Before me are the calm, bright,
hlue Mediterranean waters, reilecting a sky as azure as themselves.
Here and there are seen the white sails of the graceful feluccas.
Nature renders this one glorious paradise. And whom have you in
London left ? Carriage after carriage rolls by containing all that is
great and good and beautiful in society. Darling duchesses of
England, fair princesses of Russia, sweet grafinns of Germany,
ravishing marquises of France, are all represented. The Jockey Club
has sent a strong contingent, the Guards must be empty. The pigeon
shooting promises to be admirahle, the racing will be equal to that of
Liverpool, and the tables are surrounded by an eager, joyous crowd.
No more at present. I will hear the nightingales sing in the orange
groves.
By Telegram.—Wrote ahove before I started. Weather beastly.
Lobelia broke down when winning. Gun beats bird and bird beats
gun, always* at wrong times. Not a soul here except cads. Advocate
strongly the abolition of gaming-tables. They ought to be put down.
My hotel most uncomfortable. Send me money at once, as I am in
pawn. Send it at once.
UNDEE WOODCOCK'S WING.
(Scene from “ The Birds”—Modern Version.)
[A Conservative gathering was held in the Town Hall at Woodstock on
January 20, when the chair was occupied by Lord Kandolph Churchill,
who, in introducing Lord Lytton to the meeting, remarked that his Lord-
ship’s public life had gained for him a world-wide roputation ]
TVoodcock (perching prominently and plumirtg himself proudly,
aside). Hurroo [ This is jolly! What folly to pooh-pooh my
prospects of tling ’em!
Birds are not all of bhem gulls, but there ’s nothing more easy than
fooling ’em.
Birds of a feather ? Ha ! ha! Of the Walk who’d expect to see
me Cock,
And trotting out under my wing this imposing Tmperial Peacock ?
A little, alert, longirostral, impertinent pecker like me, too!
And yet playing Juno to him. Ah ! old Aquila really must see to
,The fowl he thought infinitesimal. As for our Owl, he ’sno go at all,
Not longipennate enough for a leader of birds; can’t e’en crowi
at all.
Saturnine Yulture of Hatfield can claw and tear carrion decently,
Still he is squeezable, yes, and has bowed at my altar quite recently.
Now for my Peacock ! (Aloud.) 0 Birds, just consider the tail of
him ! (To Peacock.) Spread it! _
(Aloud.) List to his honey-toned voice! (To Peacock.) Fire'
away! Do your trotter-out credit.
Peacock. Aquila—gr-r-r ! he ’s the chief of the Chatterers,
Jay in prigged plumes, called an eagle by flatterers.
(I never borrow, nor feathers nor song-tunes.
Sweet is my Pan-pipe, and never plays wrong tunes.)
Aquila—br-r-r! He Jove’s bird ? Be would skimp us
Of space and plume-feathers. He ’d narrow Olympus
Clean down to a dunghill, and then he ’d not crow on it.
He ’s all white feather. My plumage has glow on it;
Colour and sheen ; my appendages caudal
Have won admiration from Bkakey—and Maudle.
Beakey ! Ah, he was a bird now! He spotted me,—
Don’t mean my tail—and position allotted me
Near the far East’s new Imperial Juno,
And how I sustained that high dignity you know.
Aguila !— eugh! He ’s a prig, predatory,.
Robbed me of my perch, and our reaim of its glory.
0 my ornithological friends, I beseech you
To let his two years of base blundering teach you
He ’s far more rapacious than any black Raven,
Than any poor Quail more confoundedly craven,
More crass than a Goose, though more proud than a Turkey,
Than silliest Ostrich more shifty and shirky.
Less original much than a Bullfiuch or Mocking Bird—
In short—as my friend Woodcock whispers—a Shocking Bird!
Do pray turn him out of his nest and your graces,
Of him and his brood we can well fill the piaces,
While the Eagle-King’s post, which with him is absurd,
My dear Woodcock is ready to fill-
Woodcock (promptly and emphatically) Like a Bird ! !!
SKETCHES FROM “ BOZ.”
(Adapted to Bopular Characters.)
H.R.H. tbe Duke of C-mbr-dge, as Hr. H-rb-rt Gl-dst-ne, as
Mojor Bagstock in “ Dombey and Son.” Herbert in ‘'Great Expectations.
Very Likely!—The Irish Land Act will probably be known as
the 44th and 45th of Evictoria, Cap. 49.
PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHAPJVAPJ. [January 28, 1882.
A DEFINITION WANTED.
“Beg pardon, Sir, but don’t you see the Hotice?”
“ YeS, MY GOOD FeLLOW, BUT I NEVER SAID I WAS A GENTLEMAN ! ”
MONTE CARLO.
(By Our Own Correspondent.)
To leave the fogs and mud of London, to leave the sombre gaieties
of English holiday time, and to exchange for them the warmth and
brilliancy of a Mediterranean winter, the laughter-loving life of the
children of the sunny South; this, indeed, is what the happy man
does who hurries vid Paris and Marseilles to the delectable spot where
I am located. I am writing after a dainty, delicate, dejeuner, which
reminds me in its contrast to the monotonous, uninviting, breakfasts
of home, by an open window. Around it cluster pomegranate,
honeysuckle, and passion-ilowers. The scent of jessamine is strong
on the balmy breezes, and the roses, and the myrtles, the lilies, and
the violets lend their fragrance. Before me are the calm, bright,
hlue Mediterranean waters, reilecting a sky as azure as themselves.
Here and there are seen the white sails of the graceful feluccas.
Nature renders this one glorious paradise. And whom have you in
London left ? Carriage after carriage rolls by containing all that is
great and good and beautiful in society. Darling duchesses of
England, fair princesses of Russia, sweet grafinns of Germany,
ravishing marquises of France, are all represented. The Jockey Club
has sent a strong contingent, the Guards must be empty. The pigeon
shooting promises to be admirahle, the racing will be equal to that of
Liverpool, and the tables are surrounded by an eager, joyous crowd.
No more at present. I will hear the nightingales sing in the orange
groves.
By Telegram.—Wrote ahove before I started. Weather beastly.
Lobelia broke down when winning. Gun beats bird and bird beats
gun, always* at wrong times. Not a soul here except cads. Advocate
strongly the abolition of gaming-tables. They ought to be put down.
My hotel most uncomfortable. Send me money at once, as I am in
pawn. Send it at once.
UNDEE WOODCOCK'S WING.
(Scene from “ The Birds”—Modern Version.)
[A Conservative gathering was held in the Town Hall at Woodstock on
January 20, when the chair was occupied by Lord Kandolph Churchill,
who, in introducing Lord Lytton to the meeting, remarked that his Lord-
ship’s public life had gained for him a world-wide roputation ]
TVoodcock (perching prominently and plumirtg himself proudly,
aside). Hurroo [ This is jolly! What folly to pooh-pooh my
prospects of tling ’em!
Birds are not all of bhem gulls, but there ’s nothing more easy than
fooling ’em.
Birds of a feather ? Ha ! ha! Of the Walk who’d expect to see
me Cock,
And trotting out under my wing this imposing Tmperial Peacock ?
A little, alert, longirostral, impertinent pecker like me, too!
And yet playing Juno to him. Ah ! old Aquila really must see to
,The fowl he thought infinitesimal. As for our Owl, he ’sno go at all,
Not longipennate enough for a leader of birds; can’t e’en crowi
at all.
Saturnine Yulture of Hatfield can claw and tear carrion decently,
Still he is squeezable, yes, and has bowed at my altar quite recently.
Now for my Peacock ! (Aloud.) 0 Birds, just consider the tail of
him ! (To Peacock.) Spread it! _
(Aloud.) List to his honey-toned voice! (To Peacock.) Fire'
away! Do your trotter-out credit.
Peacock. Aquila—gr-r-r ! he ’s the chief of the Chatterers,
Jay in prigged plumes, called an eagle by flatterers.
(I never borrow, nor feathers nor song-tunes.
Sweet is my Pan-pipe, and never plays wrong tunes.)
Aquila—br-r-r! He Jove’s bird ? Be would skimp us
Of space and plume-feathers. He ’d narrow Olympus
Clean down to a dunghill, and then he ’d not crow on it.
He ’s all white feather. My plumage has glow on it;
Colour and sheen ; my appendages caudal
Have won admiration from Bkakey—and Maudle.
Beakey ! Ah, he was a bird now! He spotted me,—
Don’t mean my tail—and position allotted me
Near the far East’s new Imperial Juno,
And how I sustained that high dignity you know.
Aguila !— eugh! He ’s a prig, predatory,.
Robbed me of my perch, and our reaim of its glory.
0 my ornithological friends, I beseech you
To let his two years of base blundering teach you
He ’s far more rapacious than any black Raven,
Than any poor Quail more confoundedly craven,
More crass than a Goose, though more proud than a Turkey,
Than silliest Ostrich more shifty and shirky.
Less original much than a Bullfiuch or Mocking Bird—
In short—as my friend Woodcock whispers—a Shocking Bird!
Do pray turn him out of his nest and your graces,
Of him and his brood we can well fill the piaces,
While the Eagle-King’s post, which with him is absurd,
My dear Woodcock is ready to fill-
Woodcock (promptly and emphatically) Like a Bird ! !!
SKETCHES FROM “ BOZ.”
(Adapted to Bopular Characters.)
H.R.H. tbe Duke of C-mbr-dge, as Hr. H-rb-rt Gl-dst-ne, as
Mojor Bagstock in “ Dombey and Son.” Herbert in ‘'Great Expectations.
Very Likely!—The Irish Land Act will probably be known as
the 44th and 45th of Evictoria, Cap. 49.