Punch: Punch (101.1891)

November 28, 1891.] PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. 255

Content ? Whilst round our rocky coasts the souls who guard them
sink, [brink,
Death clutching from the clamorous brine, hope beaconing from the
With lifted hands toward the lights that beam but to betray,
Because dull Britons fail to think, or hesitate to pay ? [went,
No ! With that question a fierce thrill through countless listeners
And, hoarse with indignation, rings the answer, " Not Content! "

When the Armada neared our coast in days now dubbed as " dark,"
Pre-scientific Englishmen, whom no Electric Spark
Had witched with its white radiance, yet sped from height to height
Of Albion's long wild sea-coast line the ruddy warning Light.
"Cape beyond Cape, in endless range, those twinkling points of
fire"*

ReveilU shot from sea to"sea, from wave-washed shire to shire ;
Inland, from hill to hill, it flashed wherever English hand,
Helpful at need in English cause, could grip an English brand.
To-day ? Well, round our jutting cliffs, across our hollowing bays
Thicker the light-ship beacons flash, the lighthouse lanterns blaze.
From sweep to sweep, from steep to steep, our shores are starred with
. light,

Burning across the briny floods through the black mirk of night,

Forth-gleaming like the eyes of Hope, or like the fires of Home,

Upon the eager eyes of men far-straining o'er the foam.

Good ! But how greatly less than good to fear, to think, to know

That inland England's less alert against a whelming foe

Than when bonfire and beacon flared mere flame of wood and pitcl,

From Surrey hills to Skiddaw !

Science-dowered, serenely rich,
Safe in its snugly sheltered homes, our England lies at ease,
Whilst round her cliffs gale-scourged to wrath the tiger-throated seas
Thunder in ruthless ravening rage, with rending crash and shock,
Through the dull night and blinding drift on leagues of reef and rock.
More furious than the Spaniards they, more fierce, persistent foes,
These deep-gorged, pallid, foaming waves. Yes, bright the beacon
glows,

Warmly the lighthouse wafts its blaze of welcome o'er the brine ;
The shore 's hard by, but where the hands to whirl the rescuing line ?
To launch the boat ?—to hurl the buoy ? The lighthouse men look out
Upon their wreck-borne brethren there, their hearts are soft as stout,
But signals will not pierce this dark, shouts rise o'er this fierce roar,
R-escue may wait at hand, but—there's no cable to the shore !

Content with this ? Nay, callous he whom this stirs not to rage,
Punch pictures, with prophetic pen, a brighter cheerier page,
Which ??iust be turned, and speedily :

Good Mr. Prospero Bull,
Your Ariel is the Electric Sprite, Dibdin, of pity full
For tempest-tost Poor Jack, descried a Cherub up aloft
Watch-keeping o'er his venturous life. That symbol, quoted oft,
Must find new form to fit the time. The Ariel of the Spark
Must watch around our storm-lashed coast in tempest and in dark,
Guardian of homeward-bound Poor Jack, to spread the news of fear,

NATURAL HISTORY.

Oh, look, Mummie ! Now it \s left off Raining, he's

come out of his kennel ! "

owes me money, and is paying it off in this way, with skim-milk

Guardian of homeward-bound Poor Jack to spread the news of fear, ^fed jn moderation, and no sugar. None of the orphans has ever
And tell him, battling with the storm, that rescuing hands, though j complained of my Coffee. I should like to catch them doing so. It

By ignorance that heeds not, and neglect that fails to heed.

* Macaulay's Armada.

Are not made helpless in his hour of agonising need, [near, i is nonsense to say the art of coffee-making is unknown in England.

Yours, indignantly, Cleopatra Jones.

Sir,—Here is the recipe for Coffee which we use at this Buffet :—
"Place onepound'of the' Nonpareil Turkish Pasha's Special Brand
Extract of finest Mocha' in the urn in the morning. Pour on boiling:
water to half-way up. Let it stew all day. Draw off as wanted, and
dilute with 'Anglo-African Condensed Cows' Milk.' "

Strange to say, we do not find great demand either for Coffee or
Tea (made on similar principles) ; but it is as well that the Public
should know that we "have .both in constant readiness, and of first-
class quality. The traveller who has drunk a cup of this Coffee in
conjunction with one of our celebrated Home-made Pork Pies, does
not require anything else till the end of the very longest journey, and,
probably, not even then.

Keeper of the Refreshment Rooir, Starveii Junction.

ALL BERRY WELL.

Sir,—As there is so much talk just now about the best way
in which to make Coffee, I will mention the plan I adopt, in the
hope that some of your readers may imitate it in their own homes.
It is very simple. You take some of the excellent " Coffee Mixture,"
sold by the " Arabo-Egyptian Pure Parisian Berry Company,
Limited," at sixpence the pound. You need not give more than
one tea-spoon to every four persons, as the coffee is very good and
thick. Add condensed milk, and fill with water, after which, let
the pot stand on the hob an hour before use. You would be sur-
prised at the quality of the fluid which results. It gives general
satisfaction in my own circle. My nephew, who lives with me,
declares that it is the only genuine coffee he has drunk since he
returned from the East. He usually, however, has his breakfast out.
My General Servant says that " she prefers it to beer " (though she
takes both), and has asked me for some to send to an Aunt of hers
with whom she has quarrelled. I think this very nice and forgiving
of her, and have allowed her a quarter of a pound for that purpose.
My son-in-law, who unfortunately is rather addicted to drink, says
it is " the finest tap he ever tasted," and adds that if he could be
sure of always having such Coffee, he would join the Blue Ribbon
Army at once. Hitherto he has not joined.

Yours humbly, Martha Huswife.

Slr,—At my "Home for Elderly Orphans of Defective Brain
Power," I give an excellent Coffee, made of five parts chicory, and
one of Mocha, supplied at a cheap rate by a House in the City, which

The Georgian Era at the Alhambra.—Mrs. Abbott is an
electric wonder. Not strong muscularlyj but with sufficient electric
power to support four or five of the inferior sex heaped anyhow on a.
chair. Such a woman is a crown to a husband—nay, any amount of
crowns at £200 per week—and capable of supporting a family, how-
ever large, all by her own exertions, or indeed, with scarcely any
exertion at all. At present, though married, she is a femme seule ;
but how long will she remain the only electric wonder in
London ? Many years ago there was a one - legged dancer
named Donato. Within sixteen weeks there were as many one-
legged dancers. We don't speak by the card, of course, but one-
legged dancers became a drug in the market. Already we hear of
" A Dynamic Phenomenon" at the Pavilion. Little Mrs. Abbott is
an active, spry little person, yet her " vis inertice " is, at present,
without a parallel.