Punch (99.1890)

Deobmbeb 13, 1890.] PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. 285

TAKING IT COOLLY.

Old Gent (out for a quiet ride toith the Devon and Somerset). " Confound these hard-hiding
youjvg Rascals, the? ll be smashing my Hat one of these days I"

NONOGENARIAN NONSENSE.

[Compiled a la Mode.)

I hate so often been urged by my friends to write my autobiography, that at length
I have taken up my pen to comply with their wishes. My memory,
although I may occasionally become slightly mixed, is still excellent, and
having been born in the first year of the present century I consequently can
w remember both the Plague and Fire of London. The latter is memorable to
y me as having been the cause of my introduction to Sir Christopher Wren,
l§ an architect of some note, and an intimate friend of Sir Joshua Reynolds,
and the late Mr. Turner, R.A. Sir Christopher had but one failing
—he was never sober. To the day of his death he was under the impression
that St Paul's was St. Peter's !

One of my earliest recollections is the great physician Harvey, who,
indeed, knew me from my birth. Although an exceedingly able man, he
was a confirmed glutton. He would at the most ceremonious of dinner-
parties push his way through the guests (treating ladies and gentlemen
, , with the like discourtesy) and plumping himself down in front of the
's" turtle soup, would help himself to the entire contents of the tureen, plus
the green fat! During the last years of his life he abandoned medicine to give his
attention to cookery, and (so I have been told) ultimately invented a fish sauce I

I knew Howard, the so-called philanthropist, very well. He was particularly fond of dress,

although extremely economical in his washing
bill. It was his delight to visit the various
prisonsand obtain a hideous pleasure inwatoh-
ing the tortures of the poor wretches therein
incarcerated. He was fined and imprisoned for
ill-treating a cat, if my memory does not play
me false. I have been told that he once stole a
pockethandkerchief, but at this distance of
time cannot remember where I heard the story.

It is one of my proudest recollections that,
in early youth, I had the honour of being
presented to her late most gracious Majesty,
Queen Anne, of glorious memory. The
drawing-room was held at Buckingham
Palace, which in those days was situated on
the site now occupied by Marlborough House.
I accompanied my mother, who wore, I re-
member, yellow brocade, and a wreath of red
roses, without feathers. Round the throne
were grouped—the Duke of Marlborough
(who kept in the background because he
had just been defeated at Fontenoy), Lord
Palhekston, nick-named "Cupid" by Mis-
tress Neil Gwxnne (a well-known Court
beauty), Mr. Garrick, and Signor Grimaldi,
two Actors of repute, and Cardinal Wiseman,
the Papal Nuncio. Her Majesty was most
gracious to me, and introduced me to one of
her predecessors, Queen Elizabeth, a reputed
daughter of King Henry the Eighth. Both
Ladies laughed heartily at my curls, which
in those days were more plentiful than they
are now. I was rather alarmed at their
lurching forward as I passed them, but was
Teassured when the Earl of Rochester (the
Lord Chamberlain) whispered in my ear that
the Royal relatives had been lunching. As I
left the presence, I noticed that both their
Majesties were fast asleep.

1 have just mentioned Lord Rochester,
whose acquaintance I had the honour to
possess. He was extremely austere, and very
much disliked by the fair sex. On one oc-
casion it was my privilege to clean his shoes.
He had but one failing— he habitually cheated
at cards. I will now tell a few stories of the
like character about Bishop Wilbebporce,
Thackeray, Mrs. Fry, Peabody, Walter
Scott, and Father Matthe.w.

[No you don't, my venerable twaddler!—Ed.]

THE LARGE CIGAR.

Tou lie on the oaken mantle-shelf,

A cigar of high degree,
An old cigar, a large cigar,

A cigar that was given to me.
The house-flies bite -.^u «v 5 ^^^^ i

you day by day— v.Jl]t_ ^ <^$f!j, }-
Bite you, and kick, •y-^ , %uSj^*" it

And I do not know PV0**^B§afij. ||L]
what the inseots .Ml fssSSS i (

But they creep away pffN^^B^''

My friends they take = *&f JIISr~
you gently up, —=—'

And lay you gently —--

down;

They never saw a weed so big,

Or quite so deadly brown.
They, as a rule, smoke anything

They pick up free of charge ; [sing
But they leave you to rest while the bnlbuls

Through the night, my own, my large !

The dust lies thiok on your bloated form,

And the year draws to its close,
And the baccy-jar's been emptied—by

My laundress, I suppose.
Smokeless and hopeless, with reeling brain,

I turn to the oaken shelf,
And take you down, while my hot tears rain,

And smoke you, you brute, myself.