Punch (103.1892)

294 PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. [December 24. 1892.

11 n.

PRIVATE THEATRICALS. A REHEARSAL.

The Captain. "At this stage of the proceedings I've got to Kiss you, List Grace. Will your Husband mind, do you think?"
Lady Grace. " Oh no ! It's for a Charity, you know ! "

« CHRISTMAS IS COMING ! "

" Christmas is coming!" Pleasant truth

To all—save the dyspeptic I
To most in whom some smack of youth

Hath influence antiseptic.
Pessimists prate, and prigs he-rate

The time of mirth and holly ;
But why should time-soured sages " slate "

The juvenile and jolly ?
" Though some churls at our mirth repine "

(As old George Wither put it),
We '11 whiff our weed, and sip our wine,

And watch the youngsters foot it.
They did so in quaint Wither's time,

When wassail-bowls were humming,
And still girls laugh, and church-bells
chime,

Because—" Christmas is coming ! "

"Christmas is coming ! " Let him bring

Mirth to the toiling million.
What is't he bears—a gracious thing—

Behind him on the pillion ?
Her snowy garb, and smile benign,

Make sunshine in dark places ;
The gentlest, rarest, most divine

Of all the Christian graces.
Her eyes are full of loving light,

Her hands with gifts are laden ;
True Yule-tide Almoner, of right,

This Una--pxLTe sweet maiden !
She smiles on all, full-feeding mirth,

Young love, mad motley mumming ;
There is less dearth of joy on earth.

Because—" Christmas is coming ! "

A Merry Christmas ? Round each room
That's writ in leaf and berry ;

But there be those, alas ! to whom

There 's mockery in the " Merry."
Merry ?—when sorrow loads the heart,

And nothing loads the larder ?
In the world's play the poor man's part

At Yule-tide seems yet harder.
Good cheer to him who hungry goes,

And mirth to her who sorrows,
Lend bitter chill to Christmas snows.

Small joy care's bondsman borrows.
From jollity he may not share,

Despair is darkly drumming
At his dull breast, whose hearth won't flare,

Because—14 Christmas is coming! "

Good Greybeard Sire, you would not tire

Gay youth with tales of trouble;
World-gladness is your heart's desire,

And so you 're—riding double I
Pleasant to see dear Charity

Close pillion-poised behind you,
Eager to bid her gifts fly free,

We 're happy so to find you.
Ride on, and scatter largesse wide!

Sore need is still no rarity,
For all our Progress, Power, and Pride,

We can't dispense with Charity.
Ride on, kind pair, and may the air

With happiness be humming,
And poverty shake off despair,

Because—" Christmas is coming ! "

Rather too Premature.—We see "Christ-
mas Leaves" advertised everywhere in
glaring colours. This announcement is too
early. " Christmas Comes," it should be,
and then, any time after the 25th, will be
appropriate for the announcement of his
departure.

THE PORTER'S SLAM.

[A meeting at Manchester has raised a protest
against the nuisance caused by the needlessly loud
" slamming" of railway carriago doors.]

The porter has a patent " slam,"

Which smites one like a blow,
And everywhere that porter comes,

That " slam " is sure to go.
It strikes upon the tym-pa-num

Like shock of dynamite ;
By day it nearly makes you dumb—

It deafens you at night.
When startled by that patent " slam."

The pious pas-sen-jare,
Says something else that ends »in
"am,"

(Or he has patience rare.)
Not only does it cause a shock,

But—Manchester remarks—
" Depreciates the rolling stock,"

Well, that is rather larks !
That's not the point. The porter's slam

Conduces to insanity,
And, though as mild as Mary's lamb,

Drives men to loud profanity.
If Manchester the " slam " can stay

By raising of a stir,
All railway-travellers will sav,

"Bully for Man-ohes-ter! "

Kelly's Directory for 1893.—Invaluable,
and considered as "portable property" (to
quote Pip's friend), admirably suited for
the pocket of any individual who should
happen to be about twenty-five feet high.
How to use it f Why—see inside—it is full
of "Directions."