DOI Heft:
February 23, 1889
DOI Seite / Zitierlink: https://doi.org/10.11588/diglit.17687#0095
February 23, 1889.] PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. 85
'ARRY ON THE ICE.
Dear Charlie,
’Ow ’s Eighty-nine serving you ? Fust time I ’ve wrote'yer this year.
It’s a pelting like fun as I start, and we ’re in for a drencher, I fear.
Skates to-day seems as useless as snow-shoes ; I’ve only ’ad mine on me twice,
But I do want to tip yer the tale of the gammock I had on the hice.
The year began topping, dear pal, though old blokes as would doss in a bog
So long as ’twas muckily warm, did complain of the frost and the fog.
Fog and frost! The old gonophs may grumble along o’ the cold and the dark,
But they do me a treat. Who wants light when you ’re out for a lap and a lark ?
Ony wish as they ’d stay a mite longer,
__ the frost more pertikler, old pal.
f That’s the wust of our climate, confound
rWll. fe it! It’s jest like a flirty young gal,
/VfPL LfUA'-k On the shift and the shove all the time.
^ ' Uv :■* ’Ardly got your old skates out of pop,
s) \fe VA When the ponds, as wos stone in the
mornin’, at night is all slither and
A 1 don’t lose no time I essurc you; as
f[\ (k i C \ \ soon as the puddles gits friz
p , , M • 0 1 ] I’m down to the parks like a popgun;
1 ’’i iliK \\ it’s sure to he tidy good biz.
1 ^11Mf If yer carn’t mount the irons, my
’ !i M 'C 'i Writ ! sT) ! pippin, and go for a fair rattle round,
LA' iir 1 There is sure to he some barney on if
. there’s miwies and mugs on the
Oh, the mugs and the miwies, dear
p Charlie ! Wot would life be wuth
" " —^ without them ? [took ’Em.
It is sech as gives sport to hus snide ’uns. I went to Hyde Park and
You know little ’Em of the Boro’ ; as smart as they make ’em she is,
And I don’t know a dashinger ’and at a ’op and a bottle of fizz.
Couldn’t skate, so I hoffered to learn her ; in course she wos on like a shot;
You trust ’er, old man; she knows ’Arry, and twigs that he’s up to wot’s wot.
Pooty foot, too, she ’as, and no error ; I tell yer it fair did me proud, [crowd.
When I screw’d on the steels to them trotters, and steered her along through the
J’d been the day prevyus, but, bless you, the Bobbies was then on the ramp,
And the trees was all ’ung with “ Prohibits,” the hice bein’ thin-like and damp.
“ ’Ware, oh! ” wos the cry; but we worked ’em, mate, me andjest twoor three
more,
Till the hice-men wos reglar at sea, and the crushers went dotty ashore.
We dodged ’em, we did ducks and drakes with big stones as went skidding along,
And bashed one or two gals on the hankies. In course this wos rorty and wrong ;
But the fun of it, Charlie, the fun of it! Lor’, I did laugh fit to crack,
When I shied a big chunk at a hice-hole, and caught a old bloke in the back.
He ’owled and went down like a hegg, and the crushers was soon on the nick,
But A 1 ain’t a sprinter, and ’Arry for Bobby’s a trifle too quick.
So we kep up the barney, dear boy, till the ice-men and slops wos that riled
That they pooty nigh bust, and the ice, so the papers all spluttered, wos spiled.
Spiled! We didn’t find it so, Charlie, not me and ’Em Bates didn’t; no,
Bit rough and cut-up round the edge; but we chanced it, and didn’t we go ?
’Em wos jest a bit sprawly, in course, and we sometimes came down with a run.
But who cares for a cropper or two ? Wy, the gals think it arf of the fun!
We cannoned a pair of rare Toffs, fur and feathers, mate, quite ah lah Roose !
We wos all in a pile on the hice, and the swell he let hout like the doose.
But his sable-trimmed pardner, a topper, with tootsies so tiny, dear boy,
Well I do not believe she arf minded, a spill is a thing gals enjoy.
“ ’Old hup, Miss,” I sez ; “ no ’arm done : it’s all right hup to now, don’tcher
know,”
And she tipped me a look from her lamps, as was sparklers and fair in a glow.
If she didn’t admire me—well, there, ’Arry don’t want to gas, but ’Em Bates
Got the needle tremenjus, I tell yer, and threatened to take orf the skates.
I soon smoothed ’er feathers down, Charlie. But, oh! the rum look and
the smile
As that other one tipped me each time as we passed. She’d a heye for
true style.
She ’ad, and no error. Lor’, bless yer, the right sort they knows the right sort,
And that’s wy I ’old as Park-skating’s a proper Socierty sport.
Helps the great Modern Mix, my dear feller. You know ’Arry ain’t a low Rad.
And if there is one thing I ’ate like bad whiskey, old man, it’s a Cad.
All your levellers ought to be squelched. Skilly round is the biggest of hums,
But the dough in Society’s Cake’s getting more and more mixed with the plums.
They ain’t all at top, not the plums ain’t; it’s stirabout now, my dear boy,
If a gent who ain’t flush with the ochre, yet knows ’ow to tog and enjoy,
Courts and Clubs, big Ball Marsquees, ancetrer, ain’t no call to look down on him
’Cos he’s one on ’em, Charlie, at ’art, though he mayn’t ’ave shoved into their
swim.
Suppose I struck ile or nicked nitrates! Lor bless yer,
tire swells would soon find
I wos born for their Mix, dear old pal, me and them being
tfP.ED all of a mind. [round on the skates,
Then me and that sparkler in sables might do a waltz
Though at present I ’ave to put up with grey Astrykan
cuffs and ’Em Bates.
Well, mv turn may come, mate, who knows? There’s
lots like me now come out top row;
Of course the thor bunnicked the hice hup afore we ’ad
’ad a fair go. [will carry
Howsomever, the Winter ain’t over ; as soon as a kid it
The very fust ones on, you bet, will be ’Em, and yours,
bobbishly, ’Arry.
BIG GUNS AND LITTLE ONES.
Scene—Mr. Punch’s Sanctum. Mr. Punch discovered
reading the Speech of Lord Wolseley at the Prize
Distribution of the Artists' Rifles (Volunteers). Enter
to him the Adjutant-General.
Adjutant-General [saluting). Trust you are satisfied
with my little speech, Commander-in-Chief-Commanding-
in- Chief.
Mr. Punch. Hum ! Flowery as usual. Not quite up
to the mark, perhaps, of those wonderful manifestoes
you used to send from Egypt, my Lord.
A. G. Well, Sir, you see they were so much better
done subsequently by Mr. London County Councillor
Augustus Harris, that I thought it as well to discon-
tinue them. But what did you think, Sir, of my reference
to the step we are taking in the right direction?
Mr. P. What, getting new swords and bayonets ready,
to supply the place of those that broke at Suakin ?
A. G. (confusedly). No, Sir, 1 don’t think I touched
upon that matter. [Regaining his habitual self-confi-
dence'). No, I alluded to the offer that has been made to
the Yolunteer Artillery of two hundred and fifty-two
field-guns.
Mr. P. Pardon me, my Lord—but gammon! Call
that a move in the right direction, why they are all of an
obsolete pattern ?
A. G. But still they will be useful for drill.
Mr. P. And the Volunteers, in exchange for these
old-fashioned muzzle-loaders, are to return into store the
40-pounder rifled breech-loaders thev already possess!
A nice arrangement truly ! How are the gunners to learn
their breech-loading drill ?
A. G. [vaguely). By joining Schools of Instruction or
something.
Mr. P. Come, come, my Lord, you are too sensible to
mean what you say. As a matter of fact only officers
are entitled to attend the schools. And how many (non-
coms. and commissioned combined) can afford the time ?
A. G. [shifting his ground). Well, Sir, at any rate,
it’s introducing a novelty.
Mr. P. It hasn’t even that questionable merit. There
were numerous Yolunteer Field Brigades (one of the best
was the 3rd Middlesex Artillery) until. the War Office
took it into (what it is pleased to call) its head to break
them up.
A. G. Well, Sir, as I suppose, we shall have to submit
to you, in the long run, what would you advise ?
Mr. P. I advise nothing! I order that the obsolete
guns be returned into store, and that ones of the latest
pattern with all the most recent improvements be served
out to the Volunteers in their stead.
A, G. [grumpily). Anything else, Sir?
Mr. P. Why, yes. Just see that the Reserve of
Officers (that most useful body of men) are properly
treated. After a man has served twenty years, grant
him a step of brevet rank. It is only just. The
auxiliary Forces have this advantage, why not the
Reserve ?
A. G. [making a note in his book). Certainly, Sir.
Yes, Sir. I will see that your suggestion is carried out.
Anything else, Sir ?
Mr. P. Why, yes. I am busy. So you, my Lord,
can go! [Lord. Wolseley salutes and exit, while Mr.
Punch gives his mind to matters of more serious import.
A special Costume has been designed for the Lady-
Alderman—it is called the Aldermantle.
vox. XCVI,
I
'ARRY ON THE ICE.
Dear Charlie,
’Ow ’s Eighty-nine serving you ? Fust time I ’ve wrote'yer this year.
It’s a pelting like fun as I start, and we ’re in for a drencher, I fear.
Skates to-day seems as useless as snow-shoes ; I’ve only ’ad mine on me twice,
But I do want to tip yer the tale of the gammock I had on the hice.
The year began topping, dear pal, though old blokes as would doss in a bog
So long as ’twas muckily warm, did complain of the frost and the fog.
Fog and frost! The old gonophs may grumble along o’ the cold and the dark,
But they do me a treat. Who wants light when you ’re out for a lap and a lark ?
Ony wish as they ’d stay a mite longer,
__ the frost more pertikler, old pal.
f That’s the wust of our climate, confound
rWll. fe it! It’s jest like a flirty young gal,
/VfPL LfUA'-k On the shift and the shove all the time.
^ ' Uv :■* ’Ardly got your old skates out of pop,
s) \fe VA When the ponds, as wos stone in the
mornin’, at night is all slither and
A 1 don’t lose no time I essurc you; as
f[\ (k i C \ \ soon as the puddles gits friz
p , , M • 0 1 ] I’m down to the parks like a popgun;
1 ’’i iliK \\ it’s sure to he tidy good biz.
1 ^11Mf If yer carn’t mount the irons, my
’ !i M 'C 'i Writ ! sT) ! pippin, and go for a fair rattle round,
LA' iir 1 There is sure to he some barney on if
. there’s miwies and mugs on the
Oh, the mugs and the miwies, dear
p Charlie ! Wot would life be wuth
" " —^ without them ? [took ’Em.
It is sech as gives sport to hus snide ’uns. I went to Hyde Park and
You know little ’Em of the Boro’ ; as smart as they make ’em she is,
And I don’t know a dashinger ’and at a ’op and a bottle of fizz.
Couldn’t skate, so I hoffered to learn her ; in course she wos on like a shot;
You trust ’er, old man; she knows ’Arry, and twigs that he’s up to wot’s wot.
Pooty foot, too, she ’as, and no error ; I tell yer it fair did me proud, [crowd.
When I screw’d on the steels to them trotters, and steered her along through the
J’d been the day prevyus, but, bless you, the Bobbies was then on the ramp,
And the trees was all ’ung with “ Prohibits,” the hice bein’ thin-like and damp.
“ ’Ware, oh! ” wos the cry; but we worked ’em, mate, me andjest twoor three
more,
Till the hice-men wos reglar at sea, and the crushers went dotty ashore.
We dodged ’em, we did ducks and drakes with big stones as went skidding along,
And bashed one or two gals on the hankies. In course this wos rorty and wrong ;
But the fun of it, Charlie, the fun of it! Lor’, I did laugh fit to crack,
When I shied a big chunk at a hice-hole, and caught a old bloke in the back.
He ’owled and went down like a hegg, and the crushers was soon on the nick,
But A 1 ain’t a sprinter, and ’Arry for Bobby’s a trifle too quick.
So we kep up the barney, dear boy, till the ice-men and slops wos that riled
That they pooty nigh bust, and the ice, so the papers all spluttered, wos spiled.
Spiled! We didn’t find it so, Charlie, not me and ’Em Bates didn’t; no,
Bit rough and cut-up round the edge; but we chanced it, and didn’t we go ?
’Em wos jest a bit sprawly, in course, and we sometimes came down with a run.
But who cares for a cropper or two ? Wy, the gals think it arf of the fun!
We cannoned a pair of rare Toffs, fur and feathers, mate, quite ah lah Roose !
We wos all in a pile on the hice, and the swell he let hout like the doose.
But his sable-trimmed pardner, a topper, with tootsies so tiny, dear boy,
Well I do not believe she arf minded, a spill is a thing gals enjoy.
“ ’Old hup, Miss,” I sez ; “ no ’arm done : it’s all right hup to now, don’tcher
know,”
And she tipped me a look from her lamps, as was sparklers and fair in a glow.
If she didn’t admire me—well, there, ’Arry don’t want to gas, but ’Em Bates
Got the needle tremenjus, I tell yer, and threatened to take orf the skates.
I soon smoothed ’er feathers down, Charlie. But, oh! the rum look and
the smile
As that other one tipped me each time as we passed. She’d a heye for
true style.
She ’ad, and no error. Lor’, bless yer, the right sort they knows the right sort,
And that’s wy I ’old as Park-skating’s a proper Socierty sport.
Helps the great Modern Mix, my dear feller. You know ’Arry ain’t a low Rad.
And if there is one thing I ’ate like bad whiskey, old man, it’s a Cad.
All your levellers ought to be squelched. Skilly round is the biggest of hums,
But the dough in Society’s Cake’s getting more and more mixed with the plums.
They ain’t all at top, not the plums ain’t; it’s stirabout now, my dear boy,
If a gent who ain’t flush with the ochre, yet knows ’ow to tog and enjoy,
Courts and Clubs, big Ball Marsquees, ancetrer, ain’t no call to look down on him
’Cos he’s one on ’em, Charlie, at ’art, though he mayn’t ’ave shoved into their
swim.
Suppose I struck ile or nicked nitrates! Lor bless yer,
tire swells would soon find
I wos born for their Mix, dear old pal, me and them being
tfP.ED all of a mind. [round on the skates,
Then me and that sparkler in sables might do a waltz
Though at present I ’ave to put up with grey Astrykan
cuffs and ’Em Bates.
Well, mv turn may come, mate, who knows? There’s
lots like me now come out top row;
Of course the thor bunnicked the hice hup afore we ’ad
’ad a fair go. [will carry
Howsomever, the Winter ain’t over ; as soon as a kid it
The very fust ones on, you bet, will be ’Em, and yours,
bobbishly, ’Arry.
BIG GUNS AND LITTLE ONES.
Scene—Mr. Punch’s Sanctum. Mr. Punch discovered
reading the Speech of Lord Wolseley at the Prize
Distribution of the Artists' Rifles (Volunteers). Enter
to him the Adjutant-General.
Adjutant-General [saluting). Trust you are satisfied
with my little speech, Commander-in-Chief-Commanding-
in- Chief.
Mr. Punch. Hum ! Flowery as usual. Not quite up
to the mark, perhaps, of those wonderful manifestoes
you used to send from Egypt, my Lord.
A. G. Well, Sir, you see they were so much better
done subsequently by Mr. London County Councillor
Augustus Harris, that I thought it as well to discon-
tinue them. But what did you think, Sir, of my reference
to the step we are taking in the right direction?
Mr. P. What, getting new swords and bayonets ready,
to supply the place of those that broke at Suakin ?
A. G. (confusedly). No, Sir, 1 don’t think I touched
upon that matter. [Regaining his habitual self-confi-
dence'). No, I alluded to the offer that has been made to
the Yolunteer Artillery of two hundred and fifty-two
field-guns.
Mr. P. Pardon me, my Lord—but gammon! Call
that a move in the right direction, why they are all of an
obsolete pattern ?
A. G. But still they will be useful for drill.
Mr. P. And the Volunteers, in exchange for these
old-fashioned muzzle-loaders, are to return into store the
40-pounder rifled breech-loaders thev already possess!
A nice arrangement truly ! How are the gunners to learn
their breech-loading drill ?
A. G. [vaguely). By joining Schools of Instruction or
something.
Mr. P. Come, come, my Lord, you are too sensible to
mean what you say. As a matter of fact only officers
are entitled to attend the schools. And how many (non-
coms. and commissioned combined) can afford the time ?
A. G. [shifting his ground). Well, Sir, at any rate,
it’s introducing a novelty.
Mr. P. It hasn’t even that questionable merit. There
were numerous Yolunteer Field Brigades (one of the best
was the 3rd Middlesex Artillery) until. the War Office
took it into (what it is pleased to call) its head to break
them up.
A. G. Well, Sir, as I suppose, we shall have to submit
to you, in the long run, what would you advise ?
Mr. P. I advise nothing! I order that the obsolete
guns be returned into store, and that ones of the latest
pattern with all the most recent improvements be served
out to the Volunteers in their stead.
A, G. [grumpily). Anything else, Sir?
Mr. P. Why, yes. Just see that the Reserve of
Officers (that most useful body of men) are properly
treated. After a man has served twenty years, grant
him a step of brevet rank. It is only just. The
auxiliary Forces have this advantage, why not the
Reserve ?
A. G. [making a note in his book). Certainly, Sir.
Yes, Sir. I will see that your suggestion is carried out.
Anything else, Sir ?
Mr. P. Why, yes. I am busy. So you, my Lord,
can go! [Lord. Wolseley salutes and exit, while Mr.
Punch gives his mind to matters of more serious import.
A special Costume has been designed for the Lady-
Alderman—it is called the Aldermantle.
vox. XCVI,
I