DOI Heft:
August 4, 1883
DOI Seite / Zitierlink: https://doi.org/10.11588/diglit.17755#0061
August 4, 1883.]
PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.
49
OUR FISHING INDUSTRIES.
By Dumb-Crambo Junior.
//’*’ ^ ■ ’ 1 J
Catching Crabs and Flounders in the Thames. Catching Wails at Whipping-ham.
iM, ^ ^
Catching Soles and Skate on the (Sea) Serpentine. Catching Whiting from the Strand.
CAUGHT BY THE TIDE !
(A Story of a Coastguardman.)
They sing their songs and their lifeboat lays, and the gossip to guest from host
Is of wreckage wild in the Winter-time round the dangerous Cornish coast;
There are plenty of yarns of the sailor, and of fishermen out at sea,
There are tales of the lighthouse-keepers, and of women who bend the knee
When their mates are away in the storm-time, and the cottage is left to the roar
Of the hurricane lashing the surf to foam, and screaming about the shore ;
But best of all tales that ever I heard to make me think better of men
Who fling in their lives for duty—it happened—you ask me when ?
On a wonderful Summer’s evening, just as holiday-time began,
It had for its scene old Cornwall—its hero a Coastguardman !
A party of “ trippers” had ventured to visit the rocks and caves,
Where the sea-birds find their houses, and ignorant folks their graves ;
You may search for wild adventure on the sea-coast south and north,
But for beauty travel by Truro to the village of Perranporth.
It was there on this summer evening, on the beach, as the daylight died,
That a wandering, thoughtless fellow was caught at the turn of the tide ;
Up came the sea and trapped him, cutting the ground from his feet;
He rushed, but he couldn’t go onward—then back, there was no retreat!
Up came the sea still closer—was it death ? Hot a second to count—
Then setting his teeth at the danger, to the cliffs he began to mount.
Tearing the turf and the grasses, and scaring the sea-birds’ nest,
Clinging with feet and lingers, and bruising his arms and breast,
At last with a desperate struggle he lifted his life to a stone,
Where he held with a cry for a second, suspended in air, alone !
Once more death barred his passage ; and his terrified face turned grey,
For the ledge of the rock he clung to was crumbling slowly away !
“ Where is the man for a rescue r ” so the cry of agony ran.
“ I am that man, God willing ! ” said Began the Coastguardman !
Then followed a terrible silence, a horror that might be felt,
For the village was emptied of women, who muttered their prayers and knelt ;
They could see the eyes of the shivering man, with the agonised face turned
grey,
As stone after stone from his safety-ledge kept slowly crumbling away!
“ Bring me a rope ! ” said Regan, “ and bind, it about my waist;
Look at that wretched fellow! In a second he ’ll fall! Make haste !
Keep the cord tight in your hands, mates—there, tighter so, and stiff ;
Now, wait till I give the signal! Then haul me over the cliff.
Why do you stand there staring ? I ’ll save him, mates, if I can ;
If I die, I have done my duty ! ” said Regan the Coastguardman !
He swooped to his prey like an eagle, as they lowered with bated breath :
This man with his brave life giveu to a fellow condemned to death.
The silence grew more awful, and agony paled on the lip
Of the women and men who waited—till at last with a mighty grip
The man of the Coastguard seized him, and tightened his
arms around
This prize he had risked his life for—then searching for
safety ground
They swung from the ledge together, for the rope was
taut and stiff,
Till it dragged the burdened hero to the arms of the
crowd on the cliff!
******
There are times when the heart’s too full, Sir, for even
our English cheers.
But the women they crowded around him with kisses,
and prayers, and tears!
So tell it about from South to North, proclaim it where
you can;
Go spread it forth from Perranporth—this tale of a Coast-
,-guardman!
QUITE SURPRISING.
The Times critic on Mr. Irving as Louis the Eleventh,
speaks of his “seemingly toothless jaws,” as if he
had expected the Actor to have all his teeth taken out
in real earnest, and then adds, with all the naive and
frank admiration for his own cleverness which might be
shown by a sharp schoolboy on his seeing Mr. Irving for
the first time in this part, and seeing how he makes up
for it—
“For by a skilful artifice in staining- his front teeth, Mr.
Irving produces all the effect of toothlessness.”
Hear us! how wonderful! The “skilful artifice” is
“ no new thing ” invented and patented by Mr. Irving,
as, had it been “a skilful dentifrice,” ft might have
been, but a very simple “ dodge ” familiar to all character
Actors, Amateurs, and to everyone professionally in-
terested in the practical Hrama. We should say the
receipt would probably be found in Mr. Hutton Cook’s
amusing book on the Stage, in which he treats of all such
details.
We shall expect in some future Times critique by the
same hand to read, “Miss Ellen Terry, as Juliet,
preserves seemingly the most juvenile appearance. She
has all the fresh, clear, and peach-like complexion of a
girl of sixteen, which was, if we remember, the age of
Shakspearl’s heroine. For by a skilful artifice, Miss
Ellen Terry colours her cheeks with a delicate pink
cosmetic applied with a prepared hare’s-foot, and softens
the outline with pearl-powder delicately laid on with a
small puff, which gives all the effect of extreme juve-
nility.” Similar observations may be made as to arti-
ficial whiteness of different Actresses’ hands by the aid
of bismuth, a remarkable discovery made by Miss Kate
Vaughan ; also on the ‘ ‘ remarkable darkness of the
eyelashes by the skilful artifice of painting them with
Indian ink—an invention lately patented by Miss Nellie
Farren ; ” and our attention will be directed to “the
marvellous lustre of Miss Anybody Else’s eyes, produced
by her unique discovery of the use of belladonna.”
As to the “toothlessness,”—anyone playing dilapidated
old men have used some such device ever since making-
up became an art. Who recollects Mr. Alfred Wigan
as the old Frenchman, Achille Dufard, on the first
night F Here and there a tooth in his head, that was
all; and such a yellow, parchment, snuffy old skin!
“Any Ornaments for your Fire- Stoves ? ”—When
Mr. Raph ael Tuck, lineal descendant of the family of
which the Friar was the best-known member, is not
busied in inventing Christmas and Easter Cards, he turns
his attention to small ornamental screens for the drawing-
room fire-place in summer time, screens which, besides
supplying an artistic want, and filling a vacuum, suggest
that on every family hearth, the great scene from the
School for Scandal is being played by dolls—a Lady
Teazle doll being, of course, concealed on the chimney-
side. Mr. Raphael Tuck has sent us a sample, of which,
being really worth mentioning, we at once tuck notice.
If cold weather sets in and settles the present fate of this
invention, we advise everyone artistically and economi-
cally inclined to go in for a Raffxe-Tuck. When we
think of those hideous and dangerous paper-shavings,
every one must acknowledge that these newly-designed
screens are a Grate Improvement.
PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.
49
OUR FISHING INDUSTRIES.
By Dumb-Crambo Junior.
//’*’ ^ ■ ’ 1 J
Catching Crabs and Flounders in the Thames. Catching Wails at Whipping-ham.
iM, ^ ^
Catching Soles and Skate on the (Sea) Serpentine. Catching Whiting from the Strand.
CAUGHT BY THE TIDE !
(A Story of a Coastguardman.)
They sing their songs and their lifeboat lays, and the gossip to guest from host
Is of wreckage wild in the Winter-time round the dangerous Cornish coast;
There are plenty of yarns of the sailor, and of fishermen out at sea,
There are tales of the lighthouse-keepers, and of women who bend the knee
When their mates are away in the storm-time, and the cottage is left to the roar
Of the hurricane lashing the surf to foam, and screaming about the shore ;
But best of all tales that ever I heard to make me think better of men
Who fling in their lives for duty—it happened—you ask me when ?
On a wonderful Summer’s evening, just as holiday-time began,
It had for its scene old Cornwall—its hero a Coastguardman !
A party of “ trippers” had ventured to visit the rocks and caves,
Where the sea-birds find their houses, and ignorant folks their graves ;
You may search for wild adventure on the sea-coast south and north,
But for beauty travel by Truro to the village of Perranporth.
It was there on this summer evening, on the beach, as the daylight died,
That a wandering, thoughtless fellow was caught at the turn of the tide ;
Up came the sea and trapped him, cutting the ground from his feet;
He rushed, but he couldn’t go onward—then back, there was no retreat!
Up came the sea still closer—was it death ? Hot a second to count—
Then setting his teeth at the danger, to the cliffs he began to mount.
Tearing the turf and the grasses, and scaring the sea-birds’ nest,
Clinging with feet and lingers, and bruising his arms and breast,
At last with a desperate struggle he lifted his life to a stone,
Where he held with a cry for a second, suspended in air, alone !
Once more death barred his passage ; and his terrified face turned grey,
For the ledge of the rock he clung to was crumbling slowly away !
“ Where is the man for a rescue r ” so the cry of agony ran.
“ I am that man, God willing ! ” said Began the Coastguardman !
Then followed a terrible silence, a horror that might be felt,
For the village was emptied of women, who muttered their prayers and knelt ;
They could see the eyes of the shivering man, with the agonised face turned
grey,
As stone after stone from his safety-ledge kept slowly crumbling away!
“ Bring me a rope ! ” said Regan, “ and bind, it about my waist;
Look at that wretched fellow! In a second he ’ll fall! Make haste !
Keep the cord tight in your hands, mates—there, tighter so, and stiff ;
Now, wait till I give the signal! Then haul me over the cliff.
Why do you stand there staring ? I ’ll save him, mates, if I can ;
If I die, I have done my duty ! ” said Regan the Coastguardman !
He swooped to his prey like an eagle, as they lowered with bated breath :
This man with his brave life giveu to a fellow condemned to death.
The silence grew more awful, and agony paled on the lip
Of the women and men who waited—till at last with a mighty grip
The man of the Coastguard seized him, and tightened his
arms around
This prize he had risked his life for—then searching for
safety ground
They swung from the ledge together, for the rope was
taut and stiff,
Till it dragged the burdened hero to the arms of the
crowd on the cliff!
******
There are times when the heart’s too full, Sir, for even
our English cheers.
But the women they crowded around him with kisses,
and prayers, and tears!
So tell it about from South to North, proclaim it where
you can;
Go spread it forth from Perranporth—this tale of a Coast-
,-guardman!
QUITE SURPRISING.
The Times critic on Mr. Irving as Louis the Eleventh,
speaks of his “seemingly toothless jaws,” as if he
had expected the Actor to have all his teeth taken out
in real earnest, and then adds, with all the naive and
frank admiration for his own cleverness which might be
shown by a sharp schoolboy on his seeing Mr. Irving for
the first time in this part, and seeing how he makes up
for it—
“For by a skilful artifice in staining- his front teeth, Mr.
Irving produces all the effect of toothlessness.”
Hear us! how wonderful! The “skilful artifice” is
“ no new thing ” invented and patented by Mr. Irving,
as, had it been “a skilful dentifrice,” ft might have
been, but a very simple “ dodge ” familiar to all character
Actors, Amateurs, and to everyone professionally in-
terested in the practical Hrama. We should say the
receipt would probably be found in Mr. Hutton Cook’s
amusing book on the Stage, in which he treats of all such
details.
We shall expect in some future Times critique by the
same hand to read, “Miss Ellen Terry, as Juliet,
preserves seemingly the most juvenile appearance. She
has all the fresh, clear, and peach-like complexion of a
girl of sixteen, which was, if we remember, the age of
Shakspearl’s heroine. For by a skilful artifice, Miss
Ellen Terry colours her cheeks with a delicate pink
cosmetic applied with a prepared hare’s-foot, and softens
the outline with pearl-powder delicately laid on with a
small puff, which gives all the effect of extreme juve-
nility.” Similar observations may be made as to arti-
ficial whiteness of different Actresses’ hands by the aid
of bismuth, a remarkable discovery made by Miss Kate
Vaughan ; also on the ‘ ‘ remarkable darkness of the
eyelashes by the skilful artifice of painting them with
Indian ink—an invention lately patented by Miss Nellie
Farren ; ” and our attention will be directed to “the
marvellous lustre of Miss Anybody Else’s eyes, produced
by her unique discovery of the use of belladonna.”
As to the “toothlessness,”—anyone playing dilapidated
old men have used some such device ever since making-
up became an art. Who recollects Mr. Alfred Wigan
as the old Frenchman, Achille Dufard, on the first
night F Here and there a tooth in his head, that was
all; and such a yellow, parchment, snuffy old skin!
“Any Ornaments for your Fire- Stoves ? ”—When
Mr. Raph ael Tuck, lineal descendant of the family of
which the Friar was the best-known member, is not
busied in inventing Christmas and Easter Cards, he turns
his attention to small ornamental screens for the drawing-
room fire-place in summer time, screens which, besides
supplying an artistic want, and filling a vacuum, suggest
that on every family hearth, the great scene from the
School for Scandal is being played by dolls—a Lady
Teazle doll being, of course, concealed on the chimney-
side. Mr. Raphael Tuck has sent us a sample, of which,
being really worth mentioning, we at once tuck notice.
If cold weather sets in and settles the present fate of this
invention, we advise everyone artistically and economi-
cally inclined to go in for a Raffxe-Tuck. When we
think of those hideous and dangerous paper-shavings,
every one must acknowledge that these newly-designed
screens are a Grate Improvement.