DOI issue:
Punch's Almanack for 1879
DOI Page / Citation link:https://doi.org/10.11588/diglit.17769#0007
[December 9,1S78.1
PUNCH'S ALMANACK FOE 1879.
IN THE LIGHT OF THE FUTURE.
Or, How we shall have to Talk.
As you find the light of 3784 candles, con-
centrated in one point, a little trying to your
eyes, shall we sit out the next valse in the dark ?
"With pleasure. But can you tell me the name
of that old gentleman who is groping about for
assistance in the actinic halo under the chandelier ?
No, I fear I cannot, for I have been here quite
a quarter of an hour, and everything appears to
me upside down, and of a light pinkish colour
fretted with chocolate spots.
Indeed ? That is most strange, for, to me,
your hair, face, shirt-front, and boots all seem a
deep ditch green.
Really ? Under those circumstances, then shall
we seek the gaslit refreshment room ; that is, if
the last couples, suffering from partial paralysis,
have been already removed ?
Certainly ; if you will be kind enough to carry
my blue calico head-protector, ether-flask, bouquet,
and pebble spectacles.
This contrast is very agreeable. I can feel the
ices and tea-cups distinctly when I sweep the table
for a spoon.
Thanks ; we will now find Mamma, if possible.
You will know her by her yellow satin umbrella,
cork helmet, and I think I should recognise her
groans.
Yes, that is our carriage, I think. But I'm so
glad you fancy catherine-wheels and rockets are
going off in both your eyes every five seconds, for
that, I believe, is a sign you are not permanently
injured.
And now give me something that feels like my
ha,t, and lead me to my brougham, and tell the
man to drive at once to the nearest oculist.
MOORE MODERNISED.
Air :—" The young May moon."
The young May moon's not beaming, love,
The glow-worm's lamp's not gleaming, love,
Yet we may rove
Through the garden grove,
When the drowsy world is dreaming, love !
Then awake, the world looks bright, my dear,
Though 'tis twelve o'clock at night, my dear,
For the best of all ways
To lengthen our days
Is to use the Electric Light, my dear.
True all the world is sleeping, love,
But a glow the garden's steeping, love,
That is brighter far
Than the brightest star,
From the blue at midnight peeping, love.
Then awake ! Don't wait for the sun, my dear,
His garish glare we '11 shun, my dear,
The Electric Light
Makes the hours of night
The best season for love and fun, my dear !
The Effect of Drink.—Xantippe, the wife
of Socrates, was a virago and a shrew. An
extreme Teetotaller attributes her ill-temper to
intemperance. Xantippe should have been
called Xantipsy.
Motto for the Champions of the Electric
LiG'ht.—" Divide et impera j "
Carmen, by Bizet. English version by Pick-
ford & Co.
Title for a Parvenu.—Lord Newgent.
The Race for Wealth.—The Jews.
HINTS FOR A CERTAIN CLASS OF
TRAVELLERS.
[To be hung up in the Halls of Alpine Hotels.)
Be pleased not to yell at the top of your voice
between the hours of twelve midnight, and four
o'clock in the morning.
On ascending to your bed-room, au quatrieme,
in the small hours, carry your hob-nailed boots in
your hands, to avoid manslaughter of your invalid
fellow-travellers.
Songs (even of a comic character) are never
heard to advantage between the hours of two or
three a.m.
Rough horse-play was not a part of the treat-
ment recommended to patients by their doctors
when they were sent to the Engadin, and other
mountainous places, for the sake of their health.
If you wish to be considered a Gentleman at
home, behave like one abroad.
AT A CERTAIN MUSIC.
[By a High-Art Singer who prefers his own singing to other
people's.)
Peace, peace at last, if it can really be !
Yea, all unchecked, the swelling soul explores
Each cranny of the silence timidly,
As summer tides well up rock-pillared shores.
Green mead of peace! The huddled sense expands
In soundless bliss of restful vacancy ;
Bruised buds of Fancy spread their feeble hands,
While Quiet tends them in a soft embrace,
And kisses motherly each drooping face,
And bids the pallid blades of Thought rejoice ;
For Emily her music doth forego,
Whose bass was most promiscuous, and her voice,
Throughout, some fifth part of a tone too low.
GENERAL PREDICTIONS.
(By our own private Astrologer—specially
engaged.)
Summer Quarter.—There will
be great complaints of the stuffi-
ness of our Police and Law Courts.
Good time for sea-side lodging-
housekeepers. Bad time for fathers
of families. Good time for the
families. Several benefits at vari-
ous theatres.
A YOUNG HUSBAND'S
LAMENT.
Oh, I am weary, weary,
Of that pretty pinky face,
Of the blank of its no meaning,
The gush of its grimace.
And I am weary, weary,
Of her silly, simpering ways,
Bugles, buckles, buttons, spangles,
Tight tiebacks, tighter stays.
And I am weary, weary,.
Of that hollow little laugh,
Of the slang that stands for
humour,
Of the chatter and the chaff.
Sick of the inch-deep feeling
Of that hollow little heart,
Its " too lovely " latest fashions,
Its " too exquisite " high Art.
Its Church high, higher, highest,
Their Curates and their clothes,
Their intonings, genuflections,
Masqueradings, mops and mows.
But I must curb my temper,
Grumbling helps not wedlock's
ills.
Fashion, High Church, or ^Esthe-
tics,
Let me grin and pay the Bills !
Pecuniary Predictions.—The
year goes out with Christmas boxes,
and with bills coming in. The
year comes in with taxes, and with
New Year's gifts going out.
CELESTIAL INFLUENCES
FOR 1879.
(Applicable to every Month in the Year.)
1st. Avoid giving presents. Re-
ceive as many as possible.
5th. Avoid granting favours.
Ask them.
10th. Capital day for travelling
first-class with a third-class ticket,
and getting out before the end of
the journey, — unless discovered
before you can leave the train,
when if you have no valid excuse
ready, it is a bad day for doing it.
21st. First-rate day for calling
on a friend who has just come into
a lot of money, and borrowing a
hundred pounds of him.
29th. Bad day for lending books,
money, or an umbrella, to any one
on the point of leaving England.
THE EDISON "WEATHER-ALMANACK.
Edwin, "Why shouldn't we be Married on the Sixteenth?"
Angelina (consulting her E. W.-A.\ "It's such a Rainy Day, Love?"
Edwin (looking over). " Only in London, darling. See, it's fine at Folkestone
and all over the north-west of france until the afternoon of the twenty-
fourth, and then we can pop over to jersey, where it *s fine for a fortnight
longer ! "
OCCURRENCES ON THE FIRST
OF APRIL.
There can no longer be any
doubt about the existence of a
marine ophidian hitherto regarded
by the majority of naturalists as
fabulous. This day the Sea Serpent
comes up the Thames, stretching
the whole of Chelsea Reach, from
head to tail.
A Gunpowder Plant is discovered
in the Island of Cyprus. It bears
fruit in the form of cartridges con-
taining seeds which explode when
ignited. This plant has no affinity
whatever to the Chinese shrub
yielding Gunpowder Tea. Its fruit
ripens in the beginning of Novem-
ber, and may be gathered on Guy
Fawkes's Day.
The Sheikh-ul-Islam is con-
verted by missionaries from Bristol,
and joins the Wesleyan Methodists.
Lord Beaconsfield and Mr.
Gladstone are seen walking
down Parliament Street arm-in-
arm.
PUNCH'S ALMANACK FOE 1879.
IN THE LIGHT OF THE FUTURE.
Or, How we shall have to Talk.
As you find the light of 3784 candles, con-
centrated in one point, a little trying to your
eyes, shall we sit out the next valse in the dark ?
"With pleasure. But can you tell me the name
of that old gentleman who is groping about for
assistance in the actinic halo under the chandelier ?
No, I fear I cannot, for I have been here quite
a quarter of an hour, and everything appears to
me upside down, and of a light pinkish colour
fretted with chocolate spots.
Indeed ? That is most strange, for, to me,
your hair, face, shirt-front, and boots all seem a
deep ditch green.
Really ? Under those circumstances, then shall
we seek the gaslit refreshment room ; that is, if
the last couples, suffering from partial paralysis,
have been already removed ?
Certainly ; if you will be kind enough to carry
my blue calico head-protector, ether-flask, bouquet,
and pebble spectacles.
This contrast is very agreeable. I can feel the
ices and tea-cups distinctly when I sweep the table
for a spoon.
Thanks ; we will now find Mamma, if possible.
You will know her by her yellow satin umbrella,
cork helmet, and I think I should recognise her
groans.
Yes, that is our carriage, I think. But I'm so
glad you fancy catherine-wheels and rockets are
going off in both your eyes every five seconds, for
that, I believe, is a sign you are not permanently
injured.
And now give me something that feels like my
ha,t, and lead me to my brougham, and tell the
man to drive at once to the nearest oculist.
MOORE MODERNISED.
Air :—" The young May moon."
The young May moon's not beaming, love,
The glow-worm's lamp's not gleaming, love,
Yet we may rove
Through the garden grove,
When the drowsy world is dreaming, love !
Then awake, the world looks bright, my dear,
Though 'tis twelve o'clock at night, my dear,
For the best of all ways
To lengthen our days
Is to use the Electric Light, my dear.
True all the world is sleeping, love,
But a glow the garden's steeping, love,
That is brighter far
Than the brightest star,
From the blue at midnight peeping, love.
Then awake ! Don't wait for the sun, my dear,
His garish glare we '11 shun, my dear,
The Electric Light
Makes the hours of night
The best season for love and fun, my dear !
The Effect of Drink.—Xantippe, the wife
of Socrates, was a virago and a shrew. An
extreme Teetotaller attributes her ill-temper to
intemperance. Xantippe should have been
called Xantipsy.
Motto for the Champions of the Electric
LiG'ht.—" Divide et impera j "
Carmen, by Bizet. English version by Pick-
ford & Co.
Title for a Parvenu.—Lord Newgent.
The Race for Wealth.—The Jews.
HINTS FOR A CERTAIN CLASS OF
TRAVELLERS.
[To be hung up in the Halls of Alpine Hotels.)
Be pleased not to yell at the top of your voice
between the hours of twelve midnight, and four
o'clock in the morning.
On ascending to your bed-room, au quatrieme,
in the small hours, carry your hob-nailed boots in
your hands, to avoid manslaughter of your invalid
fellow-travellers.
Songs (even of a comic character) are never
heard to advantage between the hours of two or
three a.m.
Rough horse-play was not a part of the treat-
ment recommended to patients by their doctors
when they were sent to the Engadin, and other
mountainous places, for the sake of their health.
If you wish to be considered a Gentleman at
home, behave like one abroad.
AT A CERTAIN MUSIC.
[By a High-Art Singer who prefers his own singing to other
people's.)
Peace, peace at last, if it can really be !
Yea, all unchecked, the swelling soul explores
Each cranny of the silence timidly,
As summer tides well up rock-pillared shores.
Green mead of peace! The huddled sense expands
In soundless bliss of restful vacancy ;
Bruised buds of Fancy spread their feeble hands,
While Quiet tends them in a soft embrace,
And kisses motherly each drooping face,
And bids the pallid blades of Thought rejoice ;
For Emily her music doth forego,
Whose bass was most promiscuous, and her voice,
Throughout, some fifth part of a tone too low.
GENERAL PREDICTIONS.
(By our own private Astrologer—specially
engaged.)
Summer Quarter.—There will
be great complaints of the stuffi-
ness of our Police and Law Courts.
Good time for sea-side lodging-
housekeepers. Bad time for fathers
of families. Good time for the
families. Several benefits at vari-
ous theatres.
A YOUNG HUSBAND'S
LAMENT.
Oh, I am weary, weary,
Of that pretty pinky face,
Of the blank of its no meaning,
The gush of its grimace.
And I am weary, weary,
Of her silly, simpering ways,
Bugles, buckles, buttons, spangles,
Tight tiebacks, tighter stays.
And I am weary, weary,.
Of that hollow little laugh,
Of the slang that stands for
humour,
Of the chatter and the chaff.
Sick of the inch-deep feeling
Of that hollow little heart,
Its " too lovely " latest fashions,
Its " too exquisite " high Art.
Its Church high, higher, highest,
Their Curates and their clothes,
Their intonings, genuflections,
Masqueradings, mops and mows.
But I must curb my temper,
Grumbling helps not wedlock's
ills.
Fashion, High Church, or ^Esthe-
tics,
Let me grin and pay the Bills !
Pecuniary Predictions.—The
year goes out with Christmas boxes,
and with bills coming in. The
year comes in with taxes, and with
New Year's gifts going out.
CELESTIAL INFLUENCES
FOR 1879.
(Applicable to every Month in the Year.)
1st. Avoid giving presents. Re-
ceive as many as possible.
5th. Avoid granting favours.
Ask them.
10th. Capital day for travelling
first-class with a third-class ticket,
and getting out before the end of
the journey, — unless discovered
before you can leave the train,
when if you have no valid excuse
ready, it is a bad day for doing it.
21st. First-rate day for calling
on a friend who has just come into
a lot of money, and borrowing a
hundred pounds of him.
29th. Bad day for lending books,
money, or an umbrella, to any one
on the point of leaving England.
THE EDISON "WEATHER-ALMANACK.
Edwin, "Why shouldn't we be Married on the Sixteenth?"
Angelina (consulting her E. W.-A.\ "It's such a Rainy Day, Love?"
Edwin (looking over). " Only in London, darling. See, it's fine at Folkestone
and all over the north-west of france until the afternoon of the twenty-
fourth, and then we can pop over to jersey, where it *s fine for a fortnight
longer ! "
OCCURRENCES ON THE FIRST
OF APRIL.
There can no longer be any
doubt about the existence of a
marine ophidian hitherto regarded
by the majority of naturalists as
fabulous. This day the Sea Serpent
comes up the Thames, stretching
the whole of Chelsea Reach, from
head to tail.
A Gunpowder Plant is discovered
in the Island of Cyprus. It bears
fruit in the form of cartridges con-
taining seeds which explode when
ignited. This plant has no affinity
whatever to the Chinese shrub
yielding Gunpowder Tea. Its fruit
ripens in the beginning of Novem-
ber, and may be gathered on Guy
Fawkes's Day.
The Sheikh-ul-Islam is con-
verted by missionaries from Bristol,
and joins the Wesleyan Methodists.
Lord Beaconsfield and Mr.
Gladstone are seen walking
down Parliament Street arm-in-
arm.