Punch (85.1883)

I

9

PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.

[July 7, 1883.


I SIC VOS NON VOBIS DRAM ATI SAT IS, WRITERS !

Wife of Ms Bosom (just home from the Play). “And then that darling
Walter Lisson, looking like a Greek God, drew his Stiletto, and deli-
vered, OH ! SUCH AN EXQUISITE SOLILOQUY OVER HER TOMB — ALL IN BLANK
Verse—like heavenly Music on the Organ !”

He. “Why, he’s got a Voice like a Raven, and can no more deliver
Blank Verse than he can fly.”

She. “Ah, well—it was very beautiful, all the same—all about
Love and Death, you know ! ”

He. “Who wrote the Piece, then?”

She. “Who wrote the Piece? Oh —er-well—his Name’s sure to be
on the Bill somewhere—at least I suppose it is !”

LAYS OP A LAZY MINSTREL.

A RIVERSIDE LUNCHEON.

Our C rew it is stalwart, our Crew it is smart,

But needeth refreshment at noon;

Let’s land at the lawn of the cheery “ White Hart A
Now gay with the glamour of June !

Lor here can we lunch to the music of trees—-
In sight of the swift river running—

Off cuts of cold beef and a prime Cheddar cheese.
And a tankard of bitter at Sonning !

The garden is lovely, the host is polite,

His rose-trees are ruddy with bloom,

The snowy-clad table with tankards bedight,

And pleasant that quaint little room ;

8o sit down at once, at your inn take your ease—

No man of our Crew will be shunning—

A cut of cold beef and a prime Cheddar cheese,

And a tankard of bitter at Sonning!

Wre’ve had a long pull, and our hunger is keen,

We’ve all a superb appetite !

The lettuce is crisp, and the cresses are green,

The ale it is beady and bright;

New potatoes galore, and delicious green peas—

The Skipper avers they are “ stunning ”—

With cuts of cold beef and a prime Cheddar cheese.
And a tankard of bitter at Sonning !

The windows are open, the lime-scented breeze
Comes mixed with the perfume of hay ;

We list to the weir and the humming of bees
As we sit and we smoke in the bay !

Then here ’s to our host, ever anxious to please,

And here’s to his brewers so cunning!

The cuts of cold beef and the prime Cheddar cheese,
And the tankards of bitter at Sonning !

j Benjamin Thompson, potted meat manufacturer, was,
on Tuesday last week, sent to prison for two months, for
preparing to use horse-flesh in the composition of his
potted meats. Benjamin’s mess this ! Serve him right.
The case ought to have been heard before the Lorb Mare.

Cricketing Question sent up to Counsel.—What
is the difference between a Westminster Senior briefly
| howling a maiden over, and a Temple Junior being bowled
j over by a maiden brief ?

“ Commons Preservation Society.”-—Names will now
be taken of Members wishing to join the “Lords’ Pre-
servation Society.” Mr. Chamberlain will, of course,
he at the head of the list.

TLIE REAL “ BIRKBECK ” INSTITUTION.

This should be the title of the Fisheries Exhibition at South
Kensington, where Messrs. Birkbeck have done so much for the
general good. When our young man had finished compiling his
OlBshial Guide, we went to see the show, and have no hesitation in
recommending it to everybody as the place par excellence where to
spend a Happy Day.

On entering, you will see something “lent by the Princess of
Wales”-—we forget exactly what it is, but it is very kind of Her
Royal Highness, and we hope it will be returned all safe and sound—
[‘ ‘ safe and sound,” like a cod in a refrigerator] — and that the children
will not have missed it very much.

The pictures are, of course, rather piscatorial, but they are to the
purpose, and that’s something. Pass on—do all the models—and all
the departments, not staying too long in the waterproof and oil-skin-
fishing-wrappers’ place, which, like the skull in Hamlet, “ smells so !
pa,h ! ” and made us feel so ill, as it conjured up reminiscences of a
j “ dusty passage ” and the sailors bringing unpleasantly odoriferous
] waterproofs, &e., that we could only just stagger across to the
j refreshment room, and call faintly for an American drink. Then,

\ like an enfeebled giant slightly the better for a glass of anti-Lawson
j beverage, we lighted a cigarette, with a Sir-Henry-Thompson holder
j (our own patent, about which we shall make a great cry, hut, there’s
“ no wool” in it), and strolled out into the Horticultural Gardens,

| where the Grenadier Guards’ Band was playing, and the people—the

real people—thoroughly enjoying themselves. They applauded discri-
minatingly, and encored heartily. There were our Country Cousins
and our Sisters and our Aunts, all looking hot and happy in the Sun, or
cool and comfortable under the shade of the wide-spreading trees.

Here the old glories of the Polytechnic are revived, and there is a
real Old Diver going down in at least four feet of water. I fancy
he is stooping to hide himself, and then standing up erect to appear
as if he were coming up again, with a great deal of trouble, from the
vasty deep. The effect is good, and safety is an object. So. is the
Diver an extraordinary object. But we love him, and next time we
can get near him we will be Polytechnic boys again, and chuck him
a copper. An immense crowd was gathered round the basin where
the Diver was washing,—we mean bathing,—and the junior portion
evinced a strong tendency to throw him buns, under the impression
that he was either a seal or a bear. Ah ! the Children's. Education
is sadly neglected now that there is no longer a Polytechnic!

The diving operations were most interesting as long as an official
in charge of the man in the iron mask—we mean steel helmet—was
tying him up as if he were a Davenport brother, hut the excitement
cooled down when the enterprising operator had disappeared from
view, and his helmet had ceased to afford a clear mark for the sur-
reptitious nut. There was a sort of half-expressed hope that the
Diver might not come up again, which gave a languid interest to
what would have been otherwise a very dull five minutes while the
Diver was under water. The Band and the lounge, however, are,
and will be, the great attraction.

Now, why on earth cannot these Gardens be continued just as they .