DOI article:
Preface
DOI Page / Citation link: https://doi.org/10.11588/diglit.17694#0005
December 31, 1892 ] PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.
SCENE—Chicago. Mr. Puxch seated, like Marius, not however amidst Carthaginian ruins, but amidst the colossal, though
incomplete, evidences of " the grand style, the perfect proportions, and the magnificent dimensions of the buildings of the
World's Columbian Exposition." To him enters a Majestic Presence, bearing an Eagle, falcon-like, on her fist.
Mr. Punch (rising and saluting). Hail, Columbia !
Toby (greeting the Bird of Freedom). Bow-wow-wow !
Eagle {affably). Squ-a-a-a-kkk ! ! !
Columbia (with an Olympian air, and a slight accent). Tha-a-anks, and welcome, Stranger! When I say " Stranger,"
I don't mean that you are one. Bat it is a delicate compliment to a Britisher to adopt, in some small measure, the quaint
diction with which his wandering wags credit me. I ought to have said " air " instead of " are," and to have already dropped
in an " I reckon " or two. But I'm sure your politeness will hold me excused of that !
Mr. Punch. Madam, there is no need to carry the conventionalities of international caricature into the courtesies of
international intercourse.
Columbia. Well said, Mr. Punch ! Shake ! And be seated. [They sit, whilst Aquila hops down to hob-nob with Toby.
Mr. Punch (admiringly). Columbia, you look particularly fit and high-toned to-day. Like—how shall I put it?—
well, like an extremely up-to-date Juno, out for an airing with the Bird of Jove.
Columbia. Comparisons are—fragrant, from your truthful lips. Never mind me, however, just now. What do you
think of my Big Show—as far as it goes '?
Mr. Punch. That, unfinished as is its condition, it hears the promise and potency of licking all Creation—in the
exhibiting line. Even that colossal conglomeration in the Champs de Mars was scarcely a circumstance to what I see around
me here. England had the credit of starting the game, France trumped her last card, but Chicago " clears the board."
Columbia. Now then, Aquila, leave Toby's tail alone ! A fine fowl, Mr. Punch, but rather fond of mischief.
Mr. Punch. Just a touch of the magpie strain, eh? I fancy I've noticed it before—once or twice. Toby won't
mind. He knows Birds o' Freedom are apt to take liberties.
Columbia (smiling). Mr. ruiscri—you do beat all—out of sight!
" Who is ifc dares say tliet our naytional eagle
Wun't much longer be classed with the birds thet air regal ? "
I ought to resent your sly suggestion! But, like Toby, I'm good-tempered, and shan't.
Mr. Punch. Madam, you disarm me ! The Bird 's a beauty, and I'm a brute. iPats Aquila's proud crest paternally.
SCENE—Chicago. Mr. Puxch seated, like Marius, not however amidst Carthaginian ruins, but amidst the colossal, though
incomplete, evidences of " the grand style, the perfect proportions, and the magnificent dimensions of the buildings of the
World's Columbian Exposition." To him enters a Majestic Presence, bearing an Eagle, falcon-like, on her fist.
Mr. Punch (rising and saluting). Hail, Columbia !
Toby (greeting the Bird of Freedom). Bow-wow-wow !
Eagle {affably). Squ-a-a-a-kkk ! ! !
Columbia (with an Olympian air, and a slight accent). Tha-a-anks, and welcome, Stranger! When I say " Stranger,"
I don't mean that you are one. Bat it is a delicate compliment to a Britisher to adopt, in some small measure, the quaint
diction with which his wandering wags credit me. I ought to have said " air " instead of " are," and to have already dropped
in an " I reckon " or two. But I'm sure your politeness will hold me excused of that !
Mr. Punch. Madam, there is no need to carry the conventionalities of international caricature into the courtesies of
international intercourse.
Columbia. Well said, Mr. Punch ! Shake ! And be seated. [They sit, whilst Aquila hops down to hob-nob with Toby.
Mr. Punch (admiringly). Columbia, you look particularly fit and high-toned to-day. Like—how shall I put it?—
well, like an extremely up-to-date Juno, out for an airing with the Bird of Jove.
Columbia. Comparisons are—fragrant, from your truthful lips. Never mind me, however, just now. What do you
think of my Big Show—as far as it goes '?
Mr. Punch. That, unfinished as is its condition, it hears the promise and potency of licking all Creation—in the
exhibiting line. Even that colossal conglomeration in the Champs de Mars was scarcely a circumstance to what I see around
me here. England had the credit of starting the game, France trumped her last card, but Chicago " clears the board."
Columbia. Now then, Aquila, leave Toby's tail alone ! A fine fowl, Mr. Punch, but rather fond of mischief.
Mr. Punch. Just a touch of the magpie strain, eh? I fancy I've noticed it before—once or twice. Toby won't
mind. He knows Birds o' Freedom are apt to take liberties.
Columbia (smiling). Mr. ruiscri—you do beat all—out of sight!
" Who is ifc dares say tliet our naytional eagle
Wun't much longer be classed with the birds thet air regal ? "
I ought to resent your sly suggestion! But, like Toby, I'm good-tempered, and shan't.
Mr. Punch. Madam, you disarm me ! The Bird 's a beauty, and I'm a brute. iPats Aquila's proud crest paternally.