DOI Heft:
September 17, 1892
DOI Seite / Zitierlink: https://doi.org/10.11588/diglit.17694#0131
126 PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. [September 17, 1892.
TECHNICALITIES.
First Amateur Water-Colourist. "Do you Wash much?" Second Ditto Ditto. "No; I Scratch a good deal!"
"PUTTING ON THE HUG."
[During President Carxot's tour he received at
Aix-les-Bains " a delegation of children." One
of these, clad in a Russian dress, offered him a
bunch of flowers, repeating a stanza written for
the occasion. M. Cakxot, amid cries of " Vive la
France!" " Vive la Russie!" " Vive Carnot /"
" Vive la R<ipnblique!" kissed the little girl,
saying, tiJyembrasse la Russie ! "]
Yes—" Vive la France .'"—and " Vive la
Russie ! " too.
Fife—why not ?—everybody !
Vive Everything—especially la Blague !
(What should we do without it r)
Fraternity ! the Fatherland! the Flag !—
/work them—never doubt it!
Then " La Republique" and " La liussie,"
linked,
Pair off, 'midst acclamations :
Yes, I proclaimed—and never winced or
winked—■
That " brotherhood of nations! "
" A delegation of young children," Ah !
And they were not the only ones.
Called once, "Monsieur le President Faute- "Men are but children of a larger
de-Mieux " *
(By Punch, that foe of shoddy).
I fancy I have justified the name,
Ay, to the very letter.
I may not be a Thiers, but all the same,
France has not found a better.
Tall-talk is tedious, but one must not flinch
When asked the task to tackle ;
And he's no Frenchman true who, at a
pinch,
Cannot both crow and cackle. [hen !
Ah, Vive, once more, the Gallic Cock—and
These Talking-Tours are trying,
But 'tis with windy flouts of tongue or pen,
We keep the French Hag flying.
A sop for Savoy neatly put, elieits
Such " double rounds of cheering."
" Vive Carnot.'" To be sure! My annual
France to the Flag endearing [visits,
By sweet-phrased flattery of the Fatherland,
Are sure to swell our legions.
" I wish, France, to be thine ! " The effect
was grand,
In " Allobrogian " regions.
* See Cut so jamed, p. 279, Vol. 93, Dec. 17, 1887.
Bah!
Wise and strong men are—lonely ones.
Most men—French-men—have touches of the
child,
Fondness for show, fine phrases—■
Pst! Here my role's not cynical, but mild,
And open as dawn-daisies.
" J,e?nbrasse la Russie ! " That^was rather
neat
For Fctute-de-Mteux" at any rate.
Wondrous the magic power of blague, and
"bleat"
On Man—mouton degenerate !
That " Bete Humaine" as Zola dubs him.
Gr—r—r !
The real brutes are braver;
The tiger, when in chase of prey, won't purr,
Nor will the Bear, then, slaver.
The Bear ! Reminds me of a horrid dream
I had that night. A funny one,
But startling! I awoke with such a scream !
I dreamt some link (a money one ?)
Bound me to a big Bruin, rampant, tall,
A regular Russian Shagbag,
In whose close hug I felt extremely small,
And squeezable as a rag-bag.
I, Carnot, squeezable ! 'Tis too absurd !
A President, and pliant! [heard
But—in my dream—the raucous voice I
Of that grim ursine giant.
" Come to my arms! You '11 find them strong
and snug.
The North's so true—and tender ! "—
And then that monster huge put on the hug !
I thought my soul I 'd render.
A bear's embrace, like a prize-fighter's grip,
Is close as passion's clasping.
"Welcome!" he grunted. " I '11 not let you
slip! "
"Thanks! thanks!" I answered, gasping.
" J1 em—brasse—la—Rus—sie!" Here my
breath quite failed
In that prodigious cuddle. [vailed
'Twas but a dream—How was [it sleep pre-
My meaning so to muddle ?
" J embrasse la Russie'" It was neatly
phrased
As Mohrenheim admitted,
A President, in doggerel stanzas praised,
Must be so ready-witted,
Yet mild Republican and Autocrat,
Hugging in friendly seeming,
Suggest that Someone may be cuddled Hat—
At least in restless dreaming.
From the Vale of Llangolflyn.
Dear Mr. Punch,—I have just seen your
Number with the Song of "The Golf En-
thusiast." It occurs to me that no one has
ever mentioned the fact that the Romans
knew the game, for does not Virgil sing,
"Tee veniente die—Tee decedente canebatf"
I have not the book, and therefore can't give
you the reference—but I know I am right, as
I am A Welsh Golfer.
TECHNICALITIES.
First Amateur Water-Colourist. "Do you Wash much?" Second Ditto Ditto. "No; I Scratch a good deal!"
"PUTTING ON THE HUG."
[During President Carxot's tour he received at
Aix-les-Bains " a delegation of children." One
of these, clad in a Russian dress, offered him a
bunch of flowers, repeating a stanza written for
the occasion. M. Cakxot, amid cries of " Vive la
France!" " Vive la Russie!" " Vive Carnot /"
" Vive la R<ipnblique!" kissed the little girl,
saying, tiJyembrasse la Russie ! "]
Yes—" Vive la France .'"—and " Vive la
Russie ! " too.
Fife—why not ?—everybody !
Vive Everything—especially la Blague !
(What should we do without it r)
Fraternity ! the Fatherland! the Flag !—
/work them—never doubt it!
Then " La Republique" and " La liussie,"
linked,
Pair off, 'midst acclamations :
Yes, I proclaimed—and never winced or
winked—■
That " brotherhood of nations! "
" A delegation of young children," Ah !
And they were not the only ones.
Called once, "Monsieur le President Faute- "Men are but children of a larger
de-Mieux " *
(By Punch, that foe of shoddy).
I fancy I have justified the name,
Ay, to the very letter.
I may not be a Thiers, but all the same,
France has not found a better.
Tall-talk is tedious, but one must not flinch
When asked the task to tackle ;
And he's no Frenchman true who, at a
pinch,
Cannot both crow and cackle. [hen !
Ah, Vive, once more, the Gallic Cock—and
These Talking-Tours are trying,
But 'tis with windy flouts of tongue or pen,
We keep the French Hag flying.
A sop for Savoy neatly put, elieits
Such " double rounds of cheering."
" Vive Carnot.'" To be sure! My annual
France to the Flag endearing [visits,
By sweet-phrased flattery of the Fatherland,
Are sure to swell our legions.
" I wish, France, to be thine ! " The effect
was grand,
In " Allobrogian " regions.
* See Cut so jamed, p. 279, Vol. 93, Dec. 17, 1887.
Bah!
Wise and strong men are—lonely ones.
Most men—French-men—have touches of the
child,
Fondness for show, fine phrases—■
Pst! Here my role's not cynical, but mild,
And open as dawn-daisies.
" J,e?nbrasse la Russie ! " That^was rather
neat
For Fctute-de-Mteux" at any rate.
Wondrous the magic power of blague, and
"bleat"
On Man—mouton degenerate !
That " Bete Humaine" as Zola dubs him.
Gr—r—r !
The real brutes are braver;
The tiger, when in chase of prey, won't purr,
Nor will the Bear, then, slaver.
The Bear ! Reminds me of a horrid dream
I had that night. A funny one,
But startling! I awoke with such a scream !
I dreamt some link (a money one ?)
Bound me to a big Bruin, rampant, tall,
A regular Russian Shagbag,
In whose close hug I felt extremely small,
And squeezable as a rag-bag.
I, Carnot, squeezable ! 'Tis too absurd !
A President, and pliant! [heard
But—in my dream—the raucous voice I
Of that grim ursine giant.
" Come to my arms! You '11 find them strong
and snug.
The North's so true—and tender ! "—
And then that monster huge put on the hug !
I thought my soul I 'd render.
A bear's embrace, like a prize-fighter's grip,
Is close as passion's clasping.
"Welcome!" he grunted. " I '11 not let you
slip! "
"Thanks! thanks!" I answered, gasping.
" J1 em—brasse—la—Rus—sie!" Here my
breath quite failed
In that prodigious cuddle. [vailed
'Twas but a dream—How was [it sleep pre-
My meaning so to muddle ?
" J embrasse la Russie'" It was neatly
phrased
As Mohrenheim admitted,
A President, in doggerel stanzas praised,
Must be so ready-witted,
Yet mild Republican and Autocrat,
Hugging in friendly seeming,
Suggest that Someone may be cuddled Hat—
At least in restless dreaming.
From the Vale of Llangolflyn.
Dear Mr. Punch,—I have just seen your
Number with the Song of "The Golf En-
thusiast." It occurs to me that no one has
ever mentioned the fact that the Romans
knew the game, for does not Virgil sing,
"Tee veniente die—Tee decedente canebatf"
I have not the book, and therefore can't give
you the reference—but I know I am right, as
I am A Welsh Golfer.