DOI issue:
December 27, 1884
DOI Page / Citation link:https://doi.org/10.11588/diglit.17757#0317
THE BOARD OF FAITH—NOT WORKS.
That Upper Chamber of Bumbledom—known at one time as the
Board of Works, but more recently as the Board of Faith, is apply-
ing for more powers to do something that probably wants doing, but
which the Board has shown no ability or desire to do. The cross
thoroughfares of London—the bloated City of Four Millions of
people, and Sixty-two promised Members of Parliament—are in the
same state now as they were in the days of Jack Sheppard
and Moll Flanders. The money that has been collected and
spent has been spent upon streets and embankments running
East and West, while the roads from South to North, with the
single exception of the purchase of Waterloo Bridge, have been
practicaUy left untouched. Five or six years ago the Board
came into possession of powers to drive new streets from Charing
Cross to Oxford Street in one direction, and from Piccadilly Circus
to Tottenham Court Road in another, but they have never driven
them. All their energy seems to have been exhausted in buying,
letting, and nursing the London Pavilion Music-Hall. Even now
the discussions of the Board seem to be largely devoted to the pro-
posed re-construction of this highly important London Institution,
which, with the Trocadero Music-Hall opposite, is to guard the portals
of the New Street, if the New Street is ever to be more than the dream
of an Official Architect. The jaw-bone of a certain animal has done
wonders before now, but not merely as a lever for the raising of con-
versation. It was used in a different way in the grip of a Samson.
“ 0,” IN A CORNER.
Otje, Irrepressible Interviewer went at him and found him in. PJe
was all among the books. He said his name was Quaritch. How
he got it he hasn’t an idea, except that his family had it before him,
and it might have been given to his greatest great-grandfather,
because he had a “queer-itch” for acquiring knowledge. “You
look very well,” says I. “Just come in from a sale,” says he.
“ Oh ! ” says 1, “ where did you sail to ? ” I thought he appeared
amoved at this, so I asked him, “ How are you?” and he replied
that he was very tired as he had been a-Syston at a great book sale.”
I didn’t catch the pun at first, which irritated him considerably, and
he said he felt inclined to thro w an old copy of Shakspeare (worth
£3,200) at my head. I dared him to do it. He threw something.
A very heavy work. I don’t know what it was. Mr. Q,. observed,
“ It was beautifully bound—to hit me.” Then he smiled, After
this we got on better. He said that the Arabian Nights were written
by the Real Simon Pure. I didn’t understand this, and pressed him
for an explanation. He refused. I then asked him where the lines
came from, commencing—
“ I am a blessed Elzevir.”
And he immediately said that “ any one who talked to him about
Elzevirs and Aldines was an ass.” Mr. Quaritch’s style reminded
me of that of the late Dr. Samuel Johnson, whose centenary we
have just passed over silently. A bell rang. “ That’s my Al-dine
edition,” shouted Mr. Q., and vanished through a secret door. Then
the gas was turned out. Then I was turned out.
Dynamiters at St. George’s Hall.—The Police accompanied by
Excise officers visited Messrs. German Reed’s Entertainment the
other evening, in consequence of their attention having been attracted
by A Peculiar Case which had been placed on the stage a few nights
ago. On inspection the Ca,se was found to contain Mr. Alfred Reed
and Company, and on being produced it occasioned several explosions
of laughter. It was otherwise harmless. Mr. Reed entered into his
own recognisances (a very entertaining feat) to appear every night
till further notice, and to hold himself ready to come before the
curtain for judgment when called upon. The Police said that they
were only partially satisfied, as they had not yet seen Mr. Corney
Grain, but on its being explained to them that the gentleman had
entirelv recovered and would be there on Boxing Day, they ex-
pressed their determination of returning on that occasion.
“ Offered . . . Not Taken ! ’’—Bravo, Bedford ! not Duke, but
Deputy. Mr. Punch adds his vote to the majority of twenty-two by
which your resolution was carried, and trusts that the reward of
£5,000 offered by the Municipality for the discovery of the miscreants
who attempted the destruction of London Bridge may have the
desired effect. Nasty one this for the Home Secretary. _ As
Government itself appeared a little shy of coming forward with a
reward, it was just as weU that it should be done by Deputy,.
310
PUNCH, OK THE LONDON CHAKIVAKI.
[December 27, icc4.
MR. PUNCH’S SURPRISE CRACKERS FOR CHRISTMAS.
That Upper Chamber of Bumbledom—known at one time as the
Board of Works, but more recently as the Board of Faith, is apply-
ing for more powers to do something that probably wants doing, but
which the Board has shown no ability or desire to do. The cross
thoroughfares of London—the bloated City of Four Millions of
people, and Sixty-two promised Members of Parliament—are in the
same state now as they were in the days of Jack Sheppard
and Moll Flanders. The money that has been collected and
spent has been spent upon streets and embankments running
East and West, while the roads from South to North, with the
single exception of the purchase of Waterloo Bridge, have been
practicaUy left untouched. Five or six years ago the Board
came into possession of powers to drive new streets from Charing
Cross to Oxford Street in one direction, and from Piccadilly Circus
to Tottenham Court Road in another, but they have never driven
them. All their energy seems to have been exhausted in buying,
letting, and nursing the London Pavilion Music-Hall. Even now
the discussions of the Board seem to be largely devoted to the pro-
posed re-construction of this highly important London Institution,
which, with the Trocadero Music-Hall opposite, is to guard the portals
of the New Street, if the New Street is ever to be more than the dream
of an Official Architect. The jaw-bone of a certain animal has done
wonders before now, but not merely as a lever for the raising of con-
versation. It was used in a different way in the grip of a Samson.
“ 0,” IN A CORNER.
Otje, Irrepressible Interviewer went at him and found him in. PJe
was all among the books. He said his name was Quaritch. How
he got it he hasn’t an idea, except that his family had it before him,
and it might have been given to his greatest great-grandfather,
because he had a “queer-itch” for acquiring knowledge. “You
look very well,” says I. “Just come in from a sale,” says he.
“ Oh ! ” says 1, “ where did you sail to ? ” I thought he appeared
amoved at this, so I asked him, “ How are you?” and he replied
that he was very tired as he had been a-Syston at a great book sale.”
I didn’t catch the pun at first, which irritated him considerably, and
he said he felt inclined to thro w an old copy of Shakspeare (worth
£3,200) at my head. I dared him to do it. He threw something.
A very heavy work. I don’t know what it was. Mr. Q,. observed,
“ It was beautifully bound—to hit me.” Then he smiled, After
this we got on better. He said that the Arabian Nights were written
by the Real Simon Pure. I didn’t understand this, and pressed him
for an explanation. He refused. I then asked him where the lines
came from, commencing—
“ I am a blessed Elzevir.”
And he immediately said that “ any one who talked to him about
Elzevirs and Aldines was an ass.” Mr. Quaritch’s style reminded
me of that of the late Dr. Samuel Johnson, whose centenary we
have just passed over silently. A bell rang. “ That’s my Al-dine
edition,” shouted Mr. Q., and vanished through a secret door. Then
the gas was turned out. Then I was turned out.
Dynamiters at St. George’s Hall.—The Police accompanied by
Excise officers visited Messrs. German Reed’s Entertainment the
other evening, in consequence of their attention having been attracted
by A Peculiar Case which had been placed on the stage a few nights
ago. On inspection the Ca,se was found to contain Mr. Alfred Reed
and Company, and on being produced it occasioned several explosions
of laughter. It was otherwise harmless. Mr. Reed entered into his
own recognisances (a very entertaining feat) to appear every night
till further notice, and to hold himself ready to come before the
curtain for judgment when called upon. The Police said that they
were only partially satisfied, as they had not yet seen Mr. Corney
Grain, but on its being explained to them that the gentleman had
entirelv recovered and would be there on Boxing Day, they ex-
pressed their determination of returning on that occasion.
“ Offered . . . Not Taken ! ’’—Bravo, Bedford ! not Duke, but
Deputy. Mr. Punch adds his vote to the majority of twenty-two by
which your resolution was carried, and trusts that the reward of
£5,000 offered by the Municipality for the discovery of the miscreants
who attempted the destruction of London Bridge may have the
desired effect. Nasty one this for the Home Secretary. _ As
Government itself appeared a little shy of coming forward with a
reward, it was just as weU that it should be done by Deputy,.
310
PUNCH, OK THE LONDON CHAKIVAKI.
[December 27, icc4.
MR. PUNCH’S SURPRISE CRACKERS FOR CHRISTMAS.