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Read Ebook: Punch or the London Charivari Vol. 104 May 27 1893 by Various Burnand F C Francis Cowley Editor
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Editor: Francis Burnand
PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI
VOLUME 104, MAY 27TH 1893
edited by Sir Francis Burnand
AN APPEAL FOR INSPIRATION.
THE CHIEF SECRETARY'S MUSICAL PERFORMANCE, WITH ACCOMPANIMENT. --Mr. JOHN MORLEY arrived last Friday at Kingston. He went to Bray. He was "accompanied" by the Under Secretary. Surely the Leader of the Opposition, now at Belfast, won't lose such a chance as this item of news offers.
THE "WATER-CARNIVAL."--Good idea! But a very large proportion of those whom the show attracts would be all the better for a Soap-and-Water Carnival. Old Father Thames might be considerably improved by the process.
ODDS BOBBILI!
There was a gay Rajah of Bobbili Who felt when a steamer on wobblely, "Delighted," says he, "Colonel HUMPHREY to see," So they dined and they drank hobby-nobbeley.
A BUSINESS LETTER.
DEAR FRED,--Your favour of the 3rd, Has had my very best attention, But yet I cannot, in a word, Accept you on the terms you mention; Indeed, wherever you may try, According to the last advices You'll meet, I fear, the same reply-- "It can't be done, at current prices!"
In vain an ancient name you show, In vain for intellect are noted, Blue blood and brains, you surely know, At nominal amounts are quoted; And then, I see, you're weak enough To offer "love, sincere, unstudied,"-- Why, Sir, with such Quixotic stuff The market's absolutely flooded!
But--every day this fact confirms-- The time is over for romances, And whether we can come to terms Depends alone on your finances. So, would you think me over-bold If I, with deference, requested A statement of what funds you hold? In what securities invested?
For, candidly, in such affairs A speedy bid your only chance is, A boom in Yankee millionnaires May soon result in marked advances; With you I'd willingly be wed, To like you well enough I'm able, But first submit your bank-book, FRED, To your devoted MABEL!
SUSPIRIA.
I would I were a boy! Not for the tarts we once were fain to eat, The penny ice, the jumble sticky-sweet, The tip's deciduous joy--
Not; for the keen delight Of break-neck 'scapes, the charm of getting wet, The joy of battle .
No! times have changed since then. The social whirlpool has engulfed the boys; Robb'd of their simple, hardy, rowdy joys, They start from scratch as men.
The winners in the race! Secure of worship, each his triumphs tells, Weighing with faintly-praising syllables The fairest form and face.
Time was when tender years Would hug sweet sorrow to the heart, and blur The cross-barr'd bliss of the confectioner With crushed affection's tears.
That humbleness is sped, The vivid blazon of self-conscious youth, The unwilling witness to whole-hearted truth, Ne'er troubles boyhood's head.
Now with a solemn pride, Lord of the future's limitless expanse, The Stoic stripling tolerates the dance Weary, yet dignified.
Propping the mirror'd wall, No joy of motion, no desire to please, Thaws those high-collar'd Caryatides, Inane, imperial.
Girls, with their collars too, Their mannish maskings, and their unveil'd eyes, Would feel, if girls can be surprised, surprise Should courteous worship woo.
From their exalted place The boys their favours dole, as seems them well, Woman's calm tyrants, showing, truth to tell, More tolerance than grace.
DOUBLE RIDDLE.--Why is a whist-player, fast asleep after his fifth game, like one of the latest-patented cabs? Because he can be briefly alluded to as "Rubber Tires."
Pity the sorrows of a poor "Old Man," Whose pouch is emptied of its golden store; Whose girth seems dwindling to its shortest span, Who needs relief, and needs it more and more.
Knocked out this round, and verily no wonder! The Money-boxing Kangaroo is plucky: But when a chance-blow smites the jaw like thunder, A champion may succumb to fluke unlucky.
The Australian Cricketers in their first game Went down; but BLACKHAM'S bhoys high hopes still foster; Duffers who think 'twill always be the same, Reckoned without their GIFFEN! Just ask GLO'STER!
THE ARMS OF THE ISLE OF MAN.--At a discussion on Sunday-trading, one day last month, there was an attempt made to raise a question as to breach of privilege. The Speaker, however, stopped this at the outset, advising them that they "hadn't a leg to stand upon." Very little advantage in having three legs on such an occasion. The odd part of these Manx-men's legs is that they are their arms. It was originally selected as pictorially exhibiting the innocent character of the Manx Islanders. For their greatest enemy must own that "the strange device" of the three legs is utterly 'armless.
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