Punch (95.1888)

180

PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.

[October 13, 1888.

ODE TO THAT TOAD.

[A letter iu the Times gave an account of a Toad found in a bed of clay,
and supposed to have lived there since the Glacial period.]

,. , , Blameless

h I 111 1,1 I II L r^«i» '*i '■ \i\ BatraoMan,

I i i H lsSS% ^HpPjm •' 4 !i i ftompoetic
' !l I =' ^I'^ttML-';- J^" fancy

xAv^sj e-, Aj I 'i, •jfflOT^' -^■■S-J.-p Dowers with
,-jftK$& N-l ': 1 :^/*^fi|i^V:fevil gifts

\ SjjiV^ 3| 'i and powers
M»]ls f: sinister,
V*/' ! =1 '! Optics of
MjT. .V.fjii (I glance ma-

wfTiwOT 'is "■e^°'

\i */ £rf , f orifice,
k^i . Sputtering

" Owed to a Creditor." (far less

sensible)

Leave thee alone a bit, refrain from ranking
Thee with the frog-shower, fish-fall, huge sea-serpent,
And great gooseberrjr ?

Thirty thousand years in clay ? Ridiculous!
Fie on the fudge about times prehistoric !
You a survival faint from epochs glacial ?
Credat Judceus.'

Bet them a bob that you are no Toad-Tanner,
Foolish enough to practise secular fasting,
Cramped in a clay-cleft without worms, or nourishment
Entomological!

Man is a clayey creature, 0 Batrachian!
He it is who, caved in his erass credulity,
Lives through the ages a purblind existence—
Toad-in-the-hole-y!

VOCES POPULI.

AT TABLE D'HOTE IN THE HIGHLANDS.

Sce>"E—A long dinner-table, garnished with spiky plants languishing
in their native pots. Visitors discovered consulting Wine-list,
which they do with knitted brows for some minutes, and then
order whiskey and soda. German Waiters get in one another's
way, and quarrel in tvhispers. Late comers enter, either
sneakingly, as if inclined to apologise to the Head-waiter, or
swaggering, as if they didn't care particularly about dining, but
had just looked in. Conversation is conducted in a low and
decorous tone.

The Diffident Diner {to Neighbour, politely). Alight I trouble you
for the—ah—Mennu ?
The Neighbour. Eh ?

The D. D. Would you kindly pass the—er—{changes his mind
about the pronunciation)—May-nu ?

The Neighbour {blankly). I'm not seein' ony of it aboot here.

The D. D. I was only asking you if you could roach the—{decides
to alter it once more)—M'noo ?

The Neighbour. Will I rax ve the hwhat ?

The D. D. (meekly). The Bill of Fare, please.

The Old Maid {to Elderly Bachelor). And what have you been
doing to-day ?

The Elderly Bachelor. Well, I took the train to Tay—Tay some-
thing or other—and on by coach through Glen—Glen—{gives it up)—
foozle-um, to Loch—bless my soul, I shall forget my own name next!
—and by the Falls of Glare ? falls of Bower ? (/ can't remember all
their confounded names!), and back by the Pass at the other end of
the loch, y' know.

The O. M. A charming trip ! I'm quite longing to do it myself!

Provincial Paterfamilias (across the table, to Friend). Oh, yes,
I ve got all my youngsters here ; they like the knocking about from
coach to steamer and that. I dunno that they notice the scenery
much, but {tolerantly) it does 'em no 'arm.'

A Pretty Sister (to Plain Ditto). Jenny, don't look that way-
there s that man who sat next to us at Oban, don't you remember ?
I don't want to have to bow to him !

The Plain Sister. Why, Florrie, I thought you rather liked him!
I 'm sure you talked ever so much to him that evening.

The Pretty S. I know ; but I shouldn't have if I'd known he was
going to turn up again in this ridiculous way.

The Grumbhr {who dines early when he is at home—generally on

chops). I give you my word I've not tasted salmon, grouse, or
venison, not once all the time I've been in Scotland !

A Stout Man (sympathetically). Nor have I, Sir ! That is—at the
Skinflint Hotel they did give us what they were pleased to call a
" Salmi of Grouse " ; but what d'ye think it was, Sir ?—four backs
as bare as my hand—and the rest of it rabbit!

German Waiter. Vill you dake frite fish or whide fish?

The Grumbler. Oh, whichever you like! {To the Stout Man.)
They put it down as " Whiting," and " Fillet of Sole," and all that
—but it's never anything but fried 'addock all the time !

The Stout Man. I '11 tell you a thing that happened to me at the
Haggisburgh Hotel—I asked for some marmalade at breakfast, and
—you'11 never guess what they brought me—treacle, Sir—as I'm a
living man, they brought me treacle ! [And so on ad. lib.

The Gushing Visitor. What charming Menus—with pictures on
them, too! And see, what's printed on the top: "A Gift to the
Guest." I do call that so nice of them, George, don't you P

George. I do indeed, my dear. I should feel uneasy at profiting by
such reckless and almost oriental hospitality, if I was not reassured
by observing an advertisement of somebody's beef-tea on the back.

The Newly-Married Wife {to Husband). Jack!

Jack. Well?

N. M. W. Wasn't it idiotic of mo to go and leave my umbrella
behind like that ?

Jack (tenderly). Not a bit.

N. M. W. Jack, I won't have you saying I'm not idiotic when I
know I was. Now say I was idiotic, like a good boy.
Jack. Shan't!

The N. M. W. Then you shan't have any; melted butter till you
do ! [Dispute lasts throughout meal, and is in danger of culminating
in a serious misunderstanding, until Jack finally admits, in
a very handsome manner, that perhaps she had acted rather
idiotically.

An Impressionable Tourist {to himself). What a lovely girl that
is next to me—how superior she seems to all these other people ! No
wonder she is so silent! I must speak to her, if only to hear her
voice. I '11 try it—she can but snub me. (Aloud, to Fair Neighbour.)

What a wonderful view you get here of-

Waiter (suddenly interposing with dishes). Gudlet or Hash Muddon ?
[The Divinity appears, in the business of choosing, to have
forgotten that she has been addressed; the Impressionable
Tourist feels that the golden moment has flown for the
present, and bides his lime till the sweets appear, ivhen she
opens her lips for the first time.
The Divinity {to her Mother, a Glasgow lady). Mammaw, aw'm
say'n—they've pit tae much sugar in th' Semolina pudd'n !

[The dream fades; Impressionable Tourist decides to spend his
evening in the Billiard Room as usual.

PICTURE-GALLERIES FOR THE PEOPLE.
_ Pwturce idiotarum libri sunt; but there are idiots and idiots—the
simply illiterate and the imbecile. The latter have been provided
with an abundance of pictures, which, adapted to their capacities,
serve them instead of books ; namely, the numberless pictorial adver-
tisements on the walls and hoardings which they can run and read.
Most of these posters are calculated merely to catch the idiots' pence,
but many appeal to their propensities, particularly cartoons repre-
senting scenes from revolting stories and execrable dramas. Go
where they will, creatures of vile impulses and weak intellect are
gratified by figures, chiefly female, falling stabbed or shot, or the
victims of savage and brutal assaults and outrages, sprawling on the
ground.

Is it really true that the works of High Art collected in National
Galleries, and other pictorial Exhibitions of the better class, exercise
an elevating influence on the minds of the people who contemplate
them ? Because, then it may reasonably be supposed to follow that
a^ degrading influence is exerted by illustrations of robbery with
violence, and ferocious homicide, upon beholders of the baser sort.
Idiots of that description need give themselves no trouble whatever to
go and see those hideous productions of the pot-boiler's paint-brush,
the puffs of abominable novels and atrocious plays. The peculiar
picture-galleries established to attract the multitude, stare them
everywhere in the face—exhibitions on view from morning to night
every day of the week, and all of them open on Sundays, when the
others credited with improving the minds and cultivating the taste
of the masses, are mostly closed. Supplied as the idiots are with a
profusion of pictures which oannot fail to afford them diabolical
suggestions, what wonder when some of them are occasioned to
reduce those horrible imaginings to practice ?

To the City oe London (aeter the recent Accident).—"Si
Monumentum requiris, circumspice .'" Free translation—" If you
still want the Monument, look out! "

03* NOTICE.—Rejected ConunuEicaaons or Contributions, whether MS., Printed Matter, Drawings, or Pictures of any description, will
in no case be returned, not even when accompanied by a Stamped and Addressed Envelope, Cover, or Wrapper. To this rule
there will be no exception. '