DOI Heft:
January 5, 1884
DOI Seite / Zitierlink: https://doi.org/10.11588/diglit.17756#0019
CHRISTMAS TIME.
Crossing-Sweeper (to Swell). “Merry Chris’aias, Cartin’ ! Pitch us a Brown !” (No answer. Insinuatingly.) “Ha’ yer sich a
Thing as a bit o’ Cold Puddin’ about yer, Captin’ ? ”
I hold, and own it plainly, for my part,
Though a girl live within a husband’s heart,
She cannot live upon it.
PuNCHIUS.
That sounds clever!
A notion strikes me !
M A ter familias.
What ?
PuNCHIUS.
Our joint endeavour
An Ars Amandi might perhaps produce
Of business quality and real use ;
A Code whose ranged rules might well stand sentry,
in pipeclayed stillness, at each porch and entry
Of that strange citadel, a Maiden’s soul,
Guard every issue and protect the whole.
Materfaaiilias.
Exactly, oh, exactly ! That indeed
Might help us Mothers in our sorest need.
Stop your Ovidian nonsense—do, dear Punch,
The Dress-philosophy of Mother Bunch,
Fit for no circle out of Noah’s Ark :
Satiric flights that leave us in the dark,
Whether you’d laud or lash us, mixed with gleams
Of high-flown gibberish from the land of dreams,
And that preposterous funning about Fashion,
Which, I confess it, puts me in a passion
Gnicker than anything!
PuNCHIUS.
And teach your daughters
The art of hungry lures and heartless slaughters ;
The cunning management of beauty’s battery,
The tricks of tenderness, the frauds of flattery,
By clear cold rules, Euclidian and exact,
Forming a Love-Code—shall we say F—compact,
Uncomplicated by capricious mazes
Of passion, conscience, taste, or other crazes;
Untouched by satire, and unfogged by fun ?
Dear Madam, yes, of course it might he done,
With your expert assistance, and—above
All else- without the meddling hand of—LoA^e !
Only, when done, the agreeable work would be
A magnum opus in—diplomacy ;
The Huckster-Handbook of the Heart, perchance
Hymen's Own Oracle, Form at a Glance,
Or Maiden's Market- Guide. But though all these,
And useful, necessary, if you please,
Whate’er it were, this Fade Mecum handy,
It would not—would it ?—be an Ars Amandi ?
Thus Punchius, bowing low his laurelled head.
A rustle swift, a quick yet stately tread,
An “ O h-h-hJ ” sonorous, blent of sniff and groan,
A portal hanged, and Punchius stood alone !
Brokers and Jokers.
Says the Globe (December 26), in an article on “ Sworn Brokers,”
“Brokers there are. alas !—but not sworn brokers.” Now we have
met with brokers who have sworn, and we have encountered brokers
who have been sworn at, and we have known brokers who have
“sworn off.” Surely these should compensate for the loss of the
“ sworn broker,” whom we are informed no longer exists.
This is a good “cutting” for the Season from our “Standard” Dows
of Advertisement tree:—
THE Father of 713 THANKS the Subscribers of ST. JOHN’S
FOUNDATION SCHOOL for their past SUPPORT, and begs their
future HELP at the NEXT ELECTION, the Boy’s last chance.
Comment is unnecessary. What a family ! !
Crossing-Sweeper (to Swell). “Merry Chris’aias, Cartin’ ! Pitch us a Brown !” (No answer. Insinuatingly.) “Ha’ yer sich a
Thing as a bit o’ Cold Puddin’ about yer, Captin’ ? ”
I hold, and own it plainly, for my part,
Though a girl live within a husband’s heart,
She cannot live upon it.
PuNCHIUS.
That sounds clever!
A notion strikes me !
M A ter familias.
What ?
PuNCHIUS.
Our joint endeavour
An Ars Amandi might perhaps produce
Of business quality and real use ;
A Code whose ranged rules might well stand sentry,
in pipeclayed stillness, at each porch and entry
Of that strange citadel, a Maiden’s soul,
Guard every issue and protect the whole.
Materfaaiilias.
Exactly, oh, exactly ! That indeed
Might help us Mothers in our sorest need.
Stop your Ovidian nonsense—do, dear Punch,
The Dress-philosophy of Mother Bunch,
Fit for no circle out of Noah’s Ark :
Satiric flights that leave us in the dark,
Whether you’d laud or lash us, mixed with gleams
Of high-flown gibberish from the land of dreams,
And that preposterous funning about Fashion,
Which, I confess it, puts me in a passion
Gnicker than anything!
PuNCHIUS.
And teach your daughters
The art of hungry lures and heartless slaughters ;
The cunning management of beauty’s battery,
The tricks of tenderness, the frauds of flattery,
By clear cold rules, Euclidian and exact,
Forming a Love-Code—shall we say F—compact,
Uncomplicated by capricious mazes
Of passion, conscience, taste, or other crazes;
Untouched by satire, and unfogged by fun ?
Dear Madam, yes, of course it might he done,
With your expert assistance, and—above
All else- without the meddling hand of—LoA^e !
Only, when done, the agreeable work would be
A magnum opus in—diplomacy ;
The Huckster-Handbook of the Heart, perchance
Hymen's Own Oracle, Form at a Glance,
Or Maiden's Market- Guide. But though all these,
And useful, necessary, if you please,
Whate’er it were, this Fade Mecum handy,
It would not—would it ?—be an Ars Amandi ?
Thus Punchius, bowing low his laurelled head.
A rustle swift, a quick yet stately tread,
An “ O h-h-hJ ” sonorous, blent of sniff and groan,
A portal hanged, and Punchius stood alone !
Brokers and Jokers.
Says the Globe (December 26), in an article on “ Sworn Brokers,”
“Brokers there are. alas !—but not sworn brokers.” Now we have
met with brokers who have sworn, and we have encountered brokers
who have been sworn at, and we have known brokers who have
“sworn off.” Surely these should compensate for the loss of the
“ sworn broker,” whom we are informed no longer exists.
This is a good “cutting” for the Season from our “Standard” Dows
of Advertisement tree:—
THE Father of 713 THANKS the Subscribers of ST. JOHN’S
FOUNDATION SCHOOL for their past SUPPORT, and begs their
future HELP at the NEXT ELECTION, the Boy’s last chance.
Comment is unnecessary. What a family ! !