Punch or The London charivari: Punch or The London charivari (2.1842)

60

PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.

a cabinet de lecture—or reading-room on the Sunday. There are many lovers of literature who
read romances only on the Sunday. They leave a dog's-ear at the chapter where the
heroine is persecuted, and the Sunday following they find her at the end of the third
volume at the very height of human felicity, and the mother of a large family. It is the
same with many who gluttonize on the Sunday off the accumulated news of the whole
week. During the six days of the week they are engrossed with railways, ribbons, calico,
canals, the affairs of their business, and the Bourse ; but on the Sunday they turn their
thoughts to Algiers, and the question of home-grown sugar,—then they dedicate themselves
entirely to the affairs of the nation, and are patriots for once in the week.

Formerly the Sunday at Paris maintained a religious tendency. The bells never failed to
ring, the churches never neglected to open, and the citizens would have preferred an act of
bankruptcy to the sacrilege of missing Notre Dame on a Sunday. The city always assumed
an air of sanctity—a character of holy decorum and piety peculiar to that day. But sinoe
Charles the Tenth and the Jesuits have gone out, the sabbath has been expatriated with
them. The Sunday is no longer a religious solemnity. It is a hole, an interruption, a
hindrance in the progress of the week. To the Parisian the Sunday is a pretext for eating,
and drinking, and dressing. Each of these corporeal indulgences he carries to an exaggerated
degree. He will have his dinner on the Sunday, even if he eat the profits of a whole week
with it. He will go to the theatre even if he go without his dinner for it, and will joyfully
sacrifice both dinner and theatre sooner than be put to the indignity of appearing in public
with a coat out of the elbows, or (equal enormity !) out of the fashion. Every Englishman
ought to hug himself with delight that heaven has placed the cradle of his birth in Great
Britain, and not in

to the Crown— public-house, where he owed a
score of some magnitude. In appearance he was
very remarkable, for he was always spotted with
mud from the peltiugs he endured in the dis-
charge of his arduous duties. He was about the
middle height ; had had the small-pox, for which
he had been a great deal pitied; and his nose,
according to some, was inclined to be aquiline,
but as it was a palpable pug, its inclination was,
of course, never gratified. His habits were very
regular, for he was regularly intoxicated by about
three in the afternoon, and regularly fuddled until
that period.

We understand that the trustees of the Square
have expressed their determination to raise to his
memory a root of daisies, if the utter want of fer-
tility in the soil will allow them to raise anything.

.^^'^rv sSr*^ <5^*t*-v ^y^ffc^f1?^ He's not o'er nice, but none will suit

{< , ^ /^cY/' .^(ftQsZ&frfc^VM Who chance to have red hair."

jeune france.

THE RED-HAIR BELLE.

Mama ! see what a horrid thing's

Stuck in the paper here !—
" A gentleman, aged thirty-five,

With ninety pounds a-ycar,
Would fain in wedlock's bonds unite,
Willi some kind la.lve faire.

PUNCH'S PICTURES OF POPULAR PEOPLE.

No. 1.—THE LATE KEEPER OF GOLDEN SQUARE.

We regret to announce the making of his final respiration, or, more vulgarly speaking, the
drawing of his last breath, by the honourable functionary who so long presided over the garden and
pavement of Golden-square, who expired one day last week at his official residence in Silver-street.

This extraordinary man was never known to have been absent from a row in the Square during
the last forty years, and was never known to have done anything towards quelling it. It is impos-
sible to trace his early career, but his first entrance into public life was on the step of a door, from
which, at the early age of three weeks, he removed to the workhouse. Here he was fortunate
enough to attract the attention of several of the Guardians, and in due time he was invested with
the care of office, and elevated to the constabulary as High-keeper, taking up his station under the
lamp at the corner—a post he continued to occupy until a few hours before his decease, which is
said to have been hastened by a severe snow-balling of which he was made the victim immediately
after Christmas.

In his high and responsible position he soon obtained the confidence of the lamplighter, with
whom he formed a lasting friendship, which terminated only with the removal of the latter to
another district. For several years, and during the publicity of the pump (not then inclosed) he
had a very difficult part to play ; and particularly during the whole of that exciting period when
an iron spoon was attached to the spout, and which often placed it in the power of his adversaries
to keep him at bay, by ducking him. Throughout the whole of these eventful times he was never
known to forget what was due to himself, for he called every week for his salary.

A great deal has been said of late years as to his pusillanimity, particularly towards the close of
his life ; but it must be remembered with whom fie had to deal,—a reckless and turbulent boy-
ocracy, who had no respect, for age, and no consideration for infirmity. Jt is true that he was
rather too punctilious in the use of his power ; and he has been a good deal ridiculed for having
on one occasion, when his hat was knocked over his eyes, fumbled in his pocket for the Act of
Parliament to see how far he could legally go ; and he has often been known, while pursuing a
troop of boys with considerable vigour, to turn upon his heel, just as if suddenly reminded that
he had reached the limits beyond which his patrons could neither pave, watch, light, cleanse, nor
otherwise repair, and beyond which, therefore, he felt that he could not legally wallop.

Now, ma, I know I'm carroty,

I'd ne'er the truth deny,
But wherefore should this booby scorn

My vegetable dye ?
Mj cousin Joey whisper'd me.
Last night behind my chair,
I look'd like spring by autumn crown'd;
Because—1 had red hair.

I can't see what there's to admire

In hair as black as night ;
Tbere's Mary Gill has raven locks,

And isn't she a fright?
And then that nasty dirty drab,

Which some folks will call fair,
La! bless them, ma', I'm sure 'tis worse

Than e'en the reddest hair.

Your auburn locks, which poets prize,

Are just like rusty screws ;
If I'd the power to change for them,

I vow I would refuse ;
And then your browns which onto fogs,

Half day, half night, coirpare —
Give me a thing with character f—
I really like red hair.

If I werevex'd at what folks say,

Or were as vain as some,
I might, perchance, be dark as they,

So let them look at home ;
Spring-wigs are cheap, and jaseyt hang,

Mark'd three-and-rix the pair—
But I'll remain as nature will'd,

For Joey likes red hair.

A stout man-of-war.

of a retiring disposition.

A QUEER QUERY.

He is succeeded in his office by somebody else, and has left no will, nor has be any heirs or per- i Who was the man who first introduced set8 pmvvnon
sonal representatives. His property is sworn to be under Ten Shillings, and the whole of it goes [ into the Navy ?—Noah ; for he took^u^i into the Ark