Punch: Punch (82.1882)

180

PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIYARI.

[April 15, 1882.

STOCK EXCHANGE.

PHYSIOLOGY AND DRESS.

(By Dumb-Crambo Junior.)

Backwardation.

Home Securities Flat.

STEALING A WEDDING MARCH ON ’EM.

The Diyine Sara, now Madame Damala—our best wishes for the
happiness of bride and bridegroom—very nearly had her journey
from Yaples for nothing ; as, though M. Damala and herself flew on
Love’s wings across Channel (no Tunnel) and Continent in order to
be married in England, where they manage these things better
(ahem !) than they do in France, yet, aceording to the account in
last Wednesday’s Morning Post, the happy bridegroom was unaware
that a special licence from His Grace of Canterbury was required
before the ceremony could be proceeded with. Fancy a foreigner’s
dismay at being told he must go to Doctors’ Commons! “ Why a
Doctor ? She is not ill! I am not ill! On what commons does he
live ? I have seen your Boat-Race, I have heard of your Clapham
Common, your Yandsvort Common ! ” Then, when he comprehended
the case, how he must have darted off, like the celebrated Mr.
Jingle, as he went out j auntily, singing to the spinster Aunt,

“ In hurry post haste for a licence,

In hurry, ding dong, I come back ! ”

And back he did return as quick as possible with the full permis-
sion of all the Doctors on all the Commons to take Mlle. Sara
Bernhardt to be his wedded wife, and the rites were got through
as quickly as possible by Mr. Greenwood, the Assistant Curate,
who seems (also aecording to the aforesaid account) to have been
rather perplexed and worried by the whole atfair being so hurried.
However, the “ Merry Gtreenwood ” did his best, and the knot was
tied. Among the very few witnesses was the M. Mayer, of Gaiety
French-play celebrity. This must be satisfactory to those who are
not content unless the ceremony takes place devant M. le Maire, as
this was devant M. le Mayer—the German-French spelling and the
Englisb pronunciation of this name being as “ mixed ” as was this
remarkable marriage, in which the representatives of the two great
divisions of Christianity,West and East,—for M. Damala is a Greek,
—were united by an Anglican, who evidently had ‘ ‘ no devotion to
the deed,” at a season when marriages are forbidden by Canon law,
and which was witnessed by a member of the ancient Hebrew dis-
pensation, which, however, was not either of the dispensations
required for the transaction. Publicity has been given to an affair
which, after all, is “nothing to nobody ” but themselves, and, per-
haps, the “ Merry Greenwood.” May the proverb about “ Married
iu haste ” be falsified in this instance ; or, rather, may the happy
consequences of this runaway match be the glorious exception which
shall prove the truth of the general rule.

SHAKSPEARE ON ELECTIONS—RIGHT AGAIN !
“ Who caix hold a fiver in his hand,

While thinking of the frothy Caucuses ?”

Essence of the Fxrst Part of the Session summarised by
Toby, M.P., in His Diary.—“Bow, wow ! ”

[ Exit Tobvfor his hnliday, singing, “ Bow, wow, wow! Q Tol lol
de riddle lol de Bow, wow, wow! ”

Now, all you Ladies of the land, come listen to our lay:

We ’tl teach you Physiology. “ Oh, what a word ! ” you’ll say.

We ’ll lecture upon evening dress, and what you ought to wear;

The Physiology of that will make a Maiden stare.

Here ’s Doctor Milner Fothergill, a wise Physician, he
Has been to balls, and was _quite shocked with what he chanced to see ;
Young Ladies risk a fell disease by showing necks and throats,
While wiser Men wrap up their chests in stiff shirts and dress-coats.

There ’s much in what the Doctor says ; a dress cut very low
Is dangerous, though Fashion may declare it comme ilfaut;

And Ladies who wear such attire must honestly confess,

Though it is called a fuLl-dress robe, it ’s very like undress.

So leave low bodices behind at theatre and ball;

Physicians then need never use their stethescopes at all;

Aud go to Doctor Fothergill, and say, with pretty bow,

That, thanks to Physiology, you know much better now.

SIMPLE STORIES EOR LITTLE GENTLEEOLK.

“ Be always kind to animals wherever you may be! ”—Elderly Lady.

No. IV.—NINA AND THE NEWT.

Nina was a very clever and good little girl. Now, a girl may be
clever without being good, but Nina had kind and judicious parents
who taught her how to turn her talents to the best account. She
was very fond of painting
and drawing, and her dear
Papa had given her a nice
little box of moist water-
colours, some beautiful
sable-brushes, and a large
sketching-block on her last
birthday. The little girl
was as happy as happy
could be. She used to go
out sketching from nature
almost every day in Evelyn
Copse. She would start
early in the morning with
her painting apparatus, a
little basket containing three apple-puffs, a bottle of milk, and some
parliament-gingerbread, and very often she would not return till
dinner-time. Her only guardian was an enormous English mastiff
named “ Tiny,” who was said to be even more trustworthy than
the Family Solicitor.

One day as Nina was sketching and singing a merry little song, a
sleek, saucy-looking, bright-eyed Newt came forth. Now, many
little girls would have jumped up, gathered their frocks around
them, and screamed, and perhaps run away. Not so, Nina. She
continued her song, and was amused to see the Newt begin to dance
to her singing, and to notice what exquisite time he kept. When
she stopped, the Newt lay down and panted, apparently much ex-
hausted. “ I dare say Sir Isaac Newton would like some luncheon,”
said she. The light-hearted reptile smiled at the little girl’s witti-
cism, and nodded his head violently. He gobbled up eagerly the
whole of an apple-puff, he bolted eight times his own weight in
parliament, and he had to be hauled out of the milk-bottle by the
tail. Having been so gloriously entertained, he disappeared alto-
gether, leaving Nina to go on with her picture, and meditate on the
ingratitude of Newt-kind.

She had given away half her luneheon, like the kind little girl
she was, so soon began to feel very hungry, and ready to start
dinnerwards earlier than usual. On packing up her things she was
alarmed to discover she had lost her best sable-pencil. She hunted
high and low. It was nowhere to be found. “ 0 dear! 0 dear !
what shall I do ? ” said the poor child, covering her face with her
hands, and bursting into tears. “W-what, w-ill — p-papa —
ss-ay? He g-gave t-ten shillings for it at W-Winsor and New-
ton’s only the other day! ” When she uttered the word “ Newton,”
she heard a faint cry, and looking down, saw her friend the Newt
with her pencil in his mouth. He laid the lost brush carefuUy at
the little girl’s feet, gave her a touching look of gratitude, and was
gone before she had time to thank him. She never saw the Newt
again, but she always kept the pencU he found; and when she
grew up to be a big girl, and exhibited pictures at the Royal
Academy, she never forgot this pleasing Uttle episode of Evelyn
Copse.

New Book by the Authors of llomes and Haunts of Italinn Poets.—
Clubs and TJncles of English Prosers.