Punch / Almanack (1846)

PUNCH'S ALMANACK FOE 1846.

SONG OF JUNE. "^7 I M iKicomede-16Ti7-S^ESpS/ operations in" the bgcdotp..

(apter tenntson.) L-^A 2TuifTr. Term b.' 17 W ]st. Align WKSLjfl < . * The London Season.)

The Rombyx—'tis a kind of moth—

Is active in the candle's glare,
And Nature spreads her greenest cloth,

To give the butterfly his fare.
The wings with little spots of grey.

Are open'd out at all their length,
A3 if the larvae would display,

In such a month, their utmost strength,
I knew a miller in my youth,

11 e was too keen a man by half,
For when you thought he spoke the truth,

'Twas ten to one he gave you chaff.
And I have watched his fortunes sink,

liecause his pride he would not prune ;
But this has nought to do, I think,

W th my poor song—the song of June,

Now cultivate carnation on cheeks with oriental
bloom, and lilies with pearl powder. Gather up
and dress carrots with infallible dye. Remove
tan, freckles, pimples, with emollient lotion.
Use Snooks's dentifrice, and take Walker's
pills for the complexion.

summer retreat.

If yon find London too hot to hold you, you
cannot choose a better retreat than Boulogne for
the purpose of taking it coolly.

directions to railway travellers.

If the seat opposite yours be vacant, rest
your feet upon it, especially should your boots
be muddy. The elbows make capital scrapers,
and the back-cushions answer very well for mats.
As you pay first-class fare, you have a right to
first-rate accommodation.

ciiap. vi.—siiowing HOW caudle brought home some "good fellows" to spend the evening, and found

mrs. caudle with some female friends at tea.

" I didn't choose to say anything to you last night, Mrs. Caudle—no:
you needn't tell me that ; I know I didn't open my lips ; don't I say so,
woman ?—I didn't speak, because indeed I was too tired. But I do think
it hard that I ean't leave the house for a few days, but I must find it swarm-
ing with petticoats wheu I come back. Your friends, as you call 'em ! as if
women could ever be friends ! It's rather hard, with what I 'in charged for
housekeeping, that I must find the place like a fair. You didn't expect me
home till to-morrow? Oh. no ! Else I should have found you alone, and
as mute as a mouse ; and not a word would you have said to me about the
pack of gossips you'd had about you !

" Now, Mrs. Caudle, for the future just remember one thing. Never
think to expect me ; for you shall never know the exact time when I shall
come home. No : I shall always take you by surprise ; as every man who'd
know what his wife's about should do.

" Well, i think I may guess now where the housekeeping money goes to !
Now, I can account for the grocer's bills-and I can't tell what 1 ther bills
beside—when i see the people you have to eat me up. And then when I
bring home a few friends thatl"find aboard the steam-boat-good fellows, I
know, every one of 'em; though I never saw'em before—when I come
home, 1 find my house full of silks and satins - a mountain of bonnets

on my bed—and nothing fit for Christians to sit down te. And after
such conduct you '11 expect me to keep my temper ? Ves : you '11 open
your eyes and' affect to stare at me, if I only swear the smallest in the
world—when, if you'd married some men, Mrs. Caudlk, the house
wouldn't have held you ! Now, I should like to know what my friends
thought of me last night-what they thought of you ? Why, of course, they
looked upon me as a fool, for putting up with your conduct as quietly as 1
did—whilst for you, but—I '11 respect your feelings—I won't say what they
must have thought of you.

"For an hour and a half, at least, did we wait for supper—if supper,
indeed, you could call it; for I blushed at everything upon the table An
hour and a half. There was nothing in the house ; everything was to be got f
Why, that's what I complain of, woman. That's the very fault. I bring
home a few friends to supper, and there's nothing in the house. But 1
come home, and I find you with I don't know what cotton-box acquaintances,
and the house smelling of toast and tea-cake enough to ruin one.

" Now, Mrs. Caudle, if we wish to continue happy together, understand
that I won't have it. If I can't give a little supper to friends at nay own
home, I'd better give up housekeeping altogether. j

" Where's my hat and gloves ? I dine out to-day."