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Read Ebook: Punch or the London Charivari Vol. 109 September 28 1895 by Various
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Ebook has 751 lines and 61431 words, and 16 pages
VOL. 109.
SEPTEMBER 28, 1895.
SCRAPS FROM CHAPS.
"BY PROXY."
More lovely than the summer morn That floods with light a southern shore And smiles upon the yellow corn Thy sister is, O sweet LENORE!
Call me not fickle; for I'll love With fondness growing e'er more fond; More tender be than gentle dove Tow'rds her I prize all else beyond.
FINAL "VALKYRIE--LONDON" DECISION.--"Quoth DUN-RAVEN, 'Never more!'"
"SERMONS."
A play that makes a hit runs for weeks, for months, for years. Audiences come from all parts to hear and see it. They come, too, by night, a most inconvenient time, and not by day. Now, why should it not be the same with a sermon?
I maintain that, as there are crowds attracted from all parts during two years to visit a theatre between the hours of seven and eleven nightly, in order to see an amusing or thrilling play, and a popular actor , so, in like manner, there would be crowds to come from all parts to hear a good sermon and see a popular preacher once, or even twice on Sunday.
I remain, Sir, yours, A. LAMBKIN.
SIR,--About sermons I have this to say, or sing,--
A sermon for Sundays, oh! preach, preach to me! Let those who don't like it complain! But should it delight me, the seats being free, I'm likely to hear it again.
Yours, KNOTT MOORE.
POETIC LICENCE.
SIR LEWIS MORRIS describes the United States as:--
She Who sits august and free, A crown?d Commonwealth from sea to sea."
She Who owns the Big Countree, Where Niggers are, and Silver may be free, A dollar'd despotism, under three Great tyrants--"Boodle," "Lynch," and "Tammany."
Edith Mary Ledingham.
Only "a Gateshead girl," whose name, Though loved, was all unknown to fame, Until that testing morn, That moment fierce of sudden fear; To-day to English hearts as dear As English girl hath borne!
That awful instant set it fair Among the records high and rare That glorify our State. A girl's heart, simple, cheerful, fond, To desperate duty could respond, In the great moment, great.
What more have History's heroes done? Or with what readier valour won The golden meed of Fame? Only charred ashes left to sight! But on the immortal scroll we write Another gentle name.
Such a good girl! And loved the sea! O white-cliff'd isle, while such as she Light a poor English home. The Viking blood, the NELSON strain No fateful hour shall seek in vain To serve thee on the foam.
AS THE LAW SHOULD BE.
VIRGINIBUS PUERISQUE.
The varlet who vends unwholesome victual Is sharply punished, if caught in the act; Why should the scoundrel expect acquittal Who sells bad books to our boys? Sad fact! We know that youth loves not goody boring, That little pigs have no relish for pearls! But where's the excuse for foul garbage pouring In innocent souls of our boys and girls?
OBERLANDED A LA MODE.
OUR OWN TORRIST IN NORTH DEVON.
Ilfracombers boast that the snow does not lie in these parts. I hope the Ilfracombers who gave me this information are, so far, like the snow.
A guide-book, written by Mr. and Mrs. S. C. HALL--names held in grateful remembrance as authorities on Irish legends--describes climate of Tenby as being "for the greater portion of the year warm, dry, and bracing." May be; was not there "for the greater portion of the year." She "Halls by the Sea," further declare, when comparing Tenby with Hastings, Ventnor, and Torquay, that it, though "equally mild, is nevertheless invigorating." Shouldn't have thought it. But--very glad to hear it.
Near Coombe-Martin is Hangman's Hill, where a sheep hanged a man for stealing him.
The drivers of the Ilfracombe four-horsed coaches are all good whips; not showy, but careful. Pretty sight to see COPP'S mail, the Defiance brought at a trot between the two gate-posts, and tooled round the small lawn up to the Valley of Rocks Hotel, Lynton. N.B. Put your name down early for box-seat in Coppy-book.
Later in the day killed a splendid gnat with very big head and large wings. Quite a pantomime gnat. Send him: as specimen to Sir AUGUSTUS DRURIOLANUS. Useful as model for "property gnat" at Christmas. Or, nailed him to wall, as warning to other gnats.
CABBY; OR, REMINISCENCES OF THE RANK AND THE ROAD.
LETTERS TO A FIANC?E.
A simple and self-evident proposition--it needs no comment.
It is very curious about the day ARTHUR went shooting and told you he had shot two brace of grouse, and you found out afterwards it was not true, he had shot thirteen. You ask me "how you should act," and say you have as yet "taken no steps in the matter."
With congratulations and every good wish,
Your affectionate friend, MARJORIE.
NOT THE CHEESE!
Why, I used to munch it every day at luncheon;-- 'Twas lovely with a glass of amber ale! Now a chunk as hard as any Bobby's truncheon, As dry as yellow soap, and just as pale, They give me when I ask 'em for Old Cheshire, Or a clammy stuff called Gruyere--all in holes. Ah! "a crust of bread-and-cheese" was once a pleasure To honest appetites and English souls. I can do with Wiltshire, Dorset, Double Gloster, Or even good old Stilton at a pinch, But the modern "Cheshire" Cheese is an impostor, From whose muckiness malodorous I flinch.
Bedad! here's a leader, ye sons o' Killarney Begorrah! ye'll not find a better I'll lay. Thin hould all yer braggin' and blusterin' blarney, And take a few hints from the Mimber for Bray!
L'ILE DE WIGHT.
Agree, &c.,
AUGUSTE.
"JEWELL'S APOLOGY."--Paste.
PUNCH TO THE RUGBY UNION.
ROWLAND HILL, and gentlemen all, Thanks for your efforts to "keep up the ball" Out of the Moneygrub's sordid slime! "Professionalism" and "Broken Time" Wanted the touch of a vigorous hand To keep the Amateur Football Band From the greedy clutch of the spirit of trade And speculation, alas! arrayed In spoil-sport fashion against true sport, On turf and river, in course and court. Keep it up, gentlemen! Let not the shame Of money-greed mar one more grand English game!
UGLY.
An ugly little artist had an ugly little dream, Of an ugly little world built on an ugly little scheme; He took up his little pencil and incontinently tried To make ugly little pictures of that world so uglified.
He drew ugly little figures just like evil little imps, With ugly little bodies of the hue of parboiled shrimps, With ugly little faces of a subterhuman sort, Each a dark Gehenna phantom or unnatural Stygian "sport."
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