Punch (86.1884)

January 12, 1884.1

PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.

13

TIPS TOR CRICKET.

In view of the approach of the Cricketing- Season, and
the carrying of Lord Harris’s Resolutions, we can
recommend the following providers of the various neces-
saries required:—

For Bats—The Zoo.

For Balls—Willis’s Rooms.

For Stumps—Mr. Eskell or Mr. Moseley.

For Bails—Sir James Ingham.

For Wicket-keeper—The Highway Board.

For Long Hops—A Hew Year’s Party.

For Sneaks — Any Irish Informer.

For Point—A Gaiety Burlesque.

For Long Leg—Mr. Feed Voices.

For Short Leg—Mr. E. Righton.

For Slip—Messrs. Wallele.

For Pitch—An honest Tar.

For Break—The Ring.

For Umpire—Sir James Hannen.

For Score—Sir Arthur Sullivan.

For Gloves—James Mace.

For Pads—Any M.F.H.

For Long Stop—The British Forces in Egypt.

For Roundhand—Joseph Gillott.

For Underhand—Mr. Parnell.

For Bves—The Civil Service Stores.

For Wides - Mr. Pope, Q.C.

For Field—A Pony.

For Twist—The Vestrymen of Clerkenwell.

For Side—A Prompter.

For Play—Messrs. Wills and Hermann.

For Drives—The Duke of Beaufort.

For Cuts—Sir Prescott Hewett.

For Catches—The Glee Union.

For Misses—The Queen.

For Muffs—The International Fur Company.

For Duck’s Eggs—The Aylesbury Dairy.

For Run Out—lolanthe.

For Hot Out—The Claimant.

CRUEL!

Fancy, Mummy, the Hairdresser Fellow wanted to Shave my
Moustache off!” “Yes? Well—and did he?”

Somebody writes to inform us that though he tried his
best to keep Hew Year’s Eve, she refused to be detained,
and left, like Cinderella, exactly as the clock struck
twelve. “ Better luck,” he adds, “next time!” He
ought to be ashamed of himself.

AH OLD FOGEY’S WAIL.

‘ ‘ The Lord Mayor has adopted the practice of permitting smoking after
his Mansion House dinners.”— Weekly Paper.

And so it’s come to this at last!

The glory has departed,—

The Mansion House accepts the
blast

That Walter Raleigh started.
The fiery fumes of Henry Clay,

Of Bock, and Larranaga,

Unite in one dense cloud to-day
With Lopez and Partaga.
Where once the harmless snuff
was shed,

In “Lundy Foot” or “Mix-
ture,”

The gross cigar now rules in-
stead,—

A truly Fowler picture!

The end has come ! the die is cast!

Come light the funeral pyre,
Hor bid the Corporation last
That lit the fatal fire.

0 ! calipash and calipee,

And punch’s fragrant flow,

Ye never can be dear to me
As in the long ago.

’Mid murky gloom and odour
stale,

E’en worse than our own fog,
My heart grows faint. 0 ! hear
my wail.

Great Magog, and great Gog.

0 bid the fell Reformer come,
Abandon every Guild,
j Tell what has now begrimed our
j home,

What Aldermen has killed ;

Let ev’ry precedent be broke,

, Penates, too, and Lars ;

! Write, “ London perished in the
smoke

And ashes of cigars ! ”

TO PHCEBUS.

[From the observations taken at the Royal Observatory, Greenwich, for
the week ending December 29th, the “ registered sunshine ” is stated to have
been “ nil.”]

Come, Phoebus, we’ve had quite enough of this fun!

If you wouldn’t see England go wholly to pot,

In pity abolish those spots on the sun,

And give us some sun on the spot.

We don’t expect much from you, Phcebus, but still
You can hardly expect us to thank you for “ nil ” !

When we hear England called—as we shall, one surmises,—
The empire on which the sun ne’er sets—nor rises !

Change of Name.

Sauce for the Goose—(a Fact).—Young Bubbletop meeting
Young Squashtail the other day, began discussing holiday fare.
Quoth Squashtail, “ And what, dear old Chappie, do you think of
pate de foies gras ? ” “ Can’t stand it at any price. My old Aunt

sent me a big pot of it the other day, and ”—(earnestly)—“ Take
your oath you won’t split ? ” “Of course, of course ! ” Bubbletop
(mysteriously). “ Well, do you know I’ve discovered that pate makes
splendid dressing for shooting-boots, and ”—(,excitedly)—“ I'm going
to patent the invention, and you shall he in it ! ” (Squashtail wrings
Bubbletop warmly by the hand. They liquidate their prospective
fortune.)

In consequence of the capacity for violent denunciation manifested
at the recent Cannon Street meeting, the Association of which Lord
Brabourne is President, and the Earl of Wemyss and the ubiquitous
Sir Edward Watkin are enthusiastic supporters, will henceforth be
known as “ The Eail-away Shareholders’ Association.”

Reciprocity.—Mr. Bartholomew Binns and assistant have been
fined for using the lines of the London and Horth-Western Company
without tickets. We never heard of any one being fined for using
Mr. B. Binns’s lines.

Everywhere all over London Mr. Wilkie Collins is placarded
as exclaiming, “ I say Ho ! ” But who said “ Tes” ? This decided
negative seems uncalled for.

A great Mistake for a Twelfth-Day Dessert.-
Nuts and no Crackers.

-To have all