DOI Heft:
September 29, 1883
DOI Seite / Zitierlink: https://doi.org/10.11588/diglit.17755#0157
September 29, 1883.] PUNCH, OP THE LONDON CHAPXVAPI.
145
A BLOODLESS BATTUE.
In the Name of Humanity Lord Barndore wrings the Necks of all his Pheasants, and haying stocked iiis Preserves
with Duplicate Specimens from the British Museum, invites his Friends for a Day’s Shooting.
OUR PARCELS.
{Further Correspondence.)
Sir,—I have also, like your Correspondent, “ A Confiding >
; Lunatic,” some reason to complain of the working- of the new Parcels ]
! Post. Here is my own experience. I have, from time to time, been
' ia the habit of despatching from this place eighteen-pennyworth of
jam-tartlets to a clerical friend in the Scilly Isles. This pastry
I have invariably packed with great care in a cardboard case, left
open at the ends to keep it fresh, and, for greater security, have
myself delivered it at our village Office, where a highly intelligent
youth takes sole charge of the Parcels Department. Though I have
in the course of the last five weeks despatched no less than twenty-
three of my little cases, I have heard from my chagrined and morti-
fied friend that everyone of them has reached him perfectly empty !
! Need I say that this has astonished me ?
I am, Sir, your obedient Servant, A Puzzled Victim.
{ SrR,—The most fragile articles can, as far as my experience goes,
be conveyed by Parcels Post, not only with thorough safety, but with
the greatest facility. Bacchus has only to encase his new-laid egg in
: cotton wool, envelope it in paper shavings, then add two pounds of
sifted Arabian sawdust, finally sealing-up the whole, labelled
Dynamite, with care,'" in a hammered steel oblong chest—(he can
; pick up one of these anvwhere second-hand for about five-and-thirty
shillings)—and he can despatch it as soon as he likes to his invalid
friend in Warwickshire with absolute confidence. Only the other
day I sent a dozen specimens of the common Stable Moth {Bandellarius
\ teutonicus), each done up separately in this fashion, as a surprise to
an entomological uncle at Slough, and though, after having the cases
opened in the hall by a couple of local blacksmiths, who brought
j their blast furnace, bellows, and a forge hammer or two with them
for the purpose, he was a little annoyed to find, that, owing to the
i sawdust having got loose, the whole dozen had arrived without their
heads, antenme, and wings. Still he appreciated fully the novelty
. of the Parcels Post, and I have not heard from him since.
Yours, &c., A Cautious Packer.
Sir,—I have been fishing in Scotland for several months, and on
Tuesday fortnight last, under favourable conditions, succeeded in
landing my first take—a magnificent seven-pound salmon. Having-
promised a hamper or two during my season’s sport, I at once
despatched my fish by Parcels Post to one of my London friends, a
noted epicure, but by some mischance he declined to receive it, and
it was returned to me addressed to Stirling. Following me about for
a week, I at last came once more into possession of it at York. The
Hotel Proprietor, however, declining to let it stay for even a few
hours, with my luggage in the hall, I again sent it off, this time to a
. country friend in Cornwall. Imagine, therefore, my astonishment,
when arriving at my residence at Camberwell yesterday, I found that-
owing to the refusal of the Postal Authorities at Exeter to transmit
it any further, it had been returned to me by night-luggage service,
accompanied from the Station by the Local Sanitary Inspector, who
has threatened me with proceedings on the part of the Parish
Authorities. I have now, apparently, no course open to me but to
have it kippered. Comment is superfluous.
I am, Sir, your obedient Servant, Piscator.
Sir,—I do not consider the prompt delivery of game by Parcels
Post an unmixed good. I received this morning a brace of grouse,
both fine three-year-old birds, that were shot at post-time yesterday
evening in the North, and despatched to me forthwith. Having
some aged relatives staying with me, I had the game cooked for break-
fast at once, but with most disappointing results. So terribly tough,
was the flesh, from mere freshness, that an uncle of mine instantly
broke a set of false teeth to pieces in an effort to get through it; while
my wife’s grandfather, a hitherto hale old gourmet, whom we had
persuaded to try a mouthful off the breast, had ultimately to be
taken out of the room, choking and in a fit. This, and one of the
legs, has upset my wife ; while I, who somewhat foolishly finished the
rest of the birds, am, as I pen this, suffering acutely from cerebral
indigestion. Your dissatisfied Correspondents, therefore, may take
warning from one who wishes the Parcels Post at the bottom of the
lied Sea, and has determined next time he gets a consignment of
game to be in No Hurry".
Sir,—I had the other day to despatch to a friend in the country
a small tea service of Dresden china, a Y’aluable satin fan belonging
to Marie Antoinette, and a rare and exquisitely finished ivory
miniature of my great-grandfather. These costly articles I packed
up neatly, but roughly, in a few deal shavings, and took the oppor-
tunity of sending along with them a bottle of anchovy sauce, a flask
of Lucca oil, a hearth-stone or two_, and a coal-hammer. Though the
whole were loosely done up in a bit of newspaper, with all possible
care, they arrived in a condition that sho-wedthe grossest carelessness
in the carriage. The fan was saturated and limp as a sponge, the
tea service in fragments, while owing to the escape of the oil and
anchovy sauce, nothing was left of my great-grandfather, but his
right eye and his shoe-buckles. I have written to the Postmaster
General, hut I am told I have no case. Such, Sir, is the treatment
meted out under this new system to one who always hitherto has
signed himself, A Circumspect Economist.
Sir,—I don’t think that it’s them Correspondents of yours who
keep sending their rubbishing things through the Office that has a
right to grumble. Look at me. Here only yesterday I did my
twenty-two mile with three brace of black cock, a haunch of venison,
fourteen pound of tea, half-a-dozen bottles of cough mixture and
other stuff (some of ’em leaking), a coffee-kettle, two barrels of
oysters, enough stuff for dresses to clothe half the county, no end of
butter, ladies’ boots, clotted cream, and a wasps’ nest as had got
loose among the lot,—and all this without an extra blessed half-
penny. So, please, Sir, I think it’s time you might have a line about
these here Parcels from The Country Postman.
145
A BLOODLESS BATTUE.
In the Name of Humanity Lord Barndore wrings the Necks of all his Pheasants, and haying stocked iiis Preserves
with Duplicate Specimens from the British Museum, invites his Friends for a Day’s Shooting.
OUR PARCELS.
{Further Correspondence.)
Sir,—I have also, like your Correspondent, “ A Confiding >
; Lunatic,” some reason to complain of the working- of the new Parcels ]
! Post. Here is my own experience. I have, from time to time, been
' ia the habit of despatching from this place eighteen-pennyworth of
jam-tartlets to a clerical friend in the Scilly Isles. This pastry
I have invariably packed with great care in a cardboard case, left
open at the ends to keep it fresh, and, for greater security, have
myself delivered it at our village Office, where a highly intelligent
youth takes sole charge of the Parcels Department. Though I have
in the course of the last five weeks despatched no less than twenty-
three of my little cases, I have heard from my chagrined and morti-
fied friend that everyone of them has reached him perfectly empty !
! Need I say that this has astonished me ?
I am, Sir, your obedient Servant, A Puzzled Victim.
{ SrR,—The most fragile articles can, as far as my experience goes,
be conveyed by Parcels Post, not only with thorough safety, but with
the greatest facility. Bacchus has only to encase his new-laid egg in
: cotton wool, envelope it in paper shavings, then add two pounds of
sifted Arabian sawdust, finally sealing-up the whole, labelled
Dynamite, with care,'" in a hammered steel oblong chest—(he can
; pick up one of these anvwhere second-hand for about five-and-thirty
shillings)—and he can despatch it as soon as he likes to his invalid
friend in Warwickshire with absolute confidence. Only the other
day I sent a dozen specimens of the common Stable Moth {Bandellarius
\ teutonicus), each done up separately in this fashion, as a surprise to
an entomological uncle at Slough, and though, after having the cases
opened in the hall by a couple of local blacksmiths, who brought
j their blast furnace, bellows, and a forge hammer or two with them
for the purpose, he was a little annoyed to find, that, owing to the
i sawdust having got loose, the whole dozen had arrived without their
heads, antenme, and wings. Still he appreciated fully the novelty
. of the Parcels Post, and I have not heard from him since.
Yours, &c., A Cautious Packer.
Sir,—I have been fishing in Scotland for several months, and on
Tuesday fortnight last, under favourable conditions, succeeded in
landing my first take—a magnificent seven-pound salmon. Having-
promised a hamper or two during my season’s sport, I at once
despatched my fish by Parcels Post to one of my London friends, a
noted epicure, but by some mischance he declined to receive it, and
it was returned to me addressed to Stirling. Following me about for
a week, I at last came once more into possession of it at York. The
Hotel Proprietor, however, declining to let it stay for even a few
hours, with my luggage in the hall, I again sent it off, this time to a
. country friend in Cornwall. Imagine, therefore, my astonishment,
when arriving at my residence at Camberwell yesterday, I found that-
owing to the refusal of the Postal Authorities at Exeter to transmit
it any further, it had been returned to me by night-luggage service,
accompanied from the Station by the Local Sanitary Inspector, who
has threatened me with proceedings on the part of the Parish
Authorities. I have now, apparently, no course open to me but to
have it kippered. Comment is superfluous.
I am, Sir, your obedient Servant, Piscator.
Sir,—I do not consider the prompt delivery of game by Parcels
Post an unmixed good. I received this morning a brace of grouse,
both fine three-year-old birds, that were shot at post-time yesterday
evening in the North, and despatched to me forthwith. Having
some aged relatives staying with me, I had the game cooked for break-
fast at once, but with most disappointing results. So terribly tough,
was the flesh, from mere freshness, that an uncle of mine instantly
broke a set of false teeth to pieces in an effort to get through it; while
my wife’s grandfather, a hitherto hale old gourmet, whom we had
persuaded to try a mouthful off the breast, had ultimately to be
taken out of the room, choking and in a fit. This, and one of the
legs, has upset my wife ; while I, who somewhat foolishly finished the
rest of the birds, am, as I pen this, suffering acutely from cerebral
indigestion. Your dissatisfied Correspondents, therefore, may take
warning from one who wishes the Parcels Post at the bottom of the
lied Sea, and has determined next time he gets a consignment of
game to be in No Hurry".
Sir,—I had the other day to despatch to a friend in the country
a small tea service of Dresden china, a Y’aluable satin fan belonging
to Marie Antoinette, and a rare and exquisitely finished ivory
miniature of my great-grandfather. These costly articles I packed
up neatly, but roughly, in a few deal shavings, and took the oppor-
tunity of sending along with them a bottle of anchovy sauce, a flask
of Lucca oil, a hearth-stone or two_, and a coal-hammer. Though the
whole were loosely done up in a bit of newspaper, with all possible
care, they arrived in a condition that sho-wedthe grossest carelessness
in the carriage. The fan was saturated and limp as a sponge, the
tea service in fragments, while owing to the escape of the oil and
anchovy sauce, nothing was left of my great-grandfather, but his
right eye and his shoe-buckles. I have written to the Postmaster
General, hut I am told I have no case. Such, Sir, is the treatment
meted out under this new system to one who always hitherto has
signed himself, A Circumspect Economist.
Sir,—I don’t think that it’s them Correspondents of yours who
keep sending their rubbishing things through the Office that has a
right to grumble. Look at me. Here only yesterday I did my
twenty-two mile with three brace of black cock, a haunch of venison,
fourteen pound of tea, half-a-dozen bottles of cough mixture and
other stuff (some of ’em leaking), a coffee-kettle, two barrels of
oysters, enough stuff for dresses to clothe half the county, no end of
butter, ladies’ boots, clotted cream, and a wasps’ nest as had got
loose among the lot,—and all this without an extra blessed half-
penny. So, please, Sir, I think it’s time you might have a line about
these here Parcels from The Country Postman.