Punch or the London Charivari, Vol. 104, May 27, 1893

Various

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The Project Gutenberg EBook of Punch or the London Charivari, Vol. 104,May 27, 1893, by VariousThis eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and withalmost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away orre-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License includedwith this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.orgTitle: Punch or the London Charivari, Vol. 104, May 27, 1893Author: VariousEditor: Francis BurnandRelease Date: December 11, 2008 [EBook #27493]Language: English*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PUNCH ***Produced by Lesley Halamek, Juliet Sutherland and theOnline Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.netPunch, or the London CharivariVolume 104, May 27th 1893edited by Sir Francis BurnandAN APPEAL FOR INSPIRATION.[Mr. Lewis Morris has been requested to write an ode on the approaching Royal Marriage.]Awake my Muse, inspire your Lewis MorrisTo pen an ode! to be another Horris!"Horace" I should have written, but in place of itYou see the word—well, I'm within an ace of it.Awake my muse! strike up! your bard inspireTo write this—"by particular desire."Wet towels! Midnight oil! Here! EverythingThat can induce the singing bard to sing.Shake me, Ye Nine! I'm resolute, I'm bold!Come, Inspiration, lend thy furious hold!Morris on Pegasus! Plank money down!I'll back myself to win the Laureate's Crown!The Chief Secretary's Musical Performance, with Accompaniment.—Mr. John Morley arrived last Friday at ...

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• Publié par: faum
• Publié le: 08 décembre 2010
• Nombre de lectures: 51
• Langue: English

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The Project Gutenberg EBook of Punch or the London Charivari, Vol. 104, May 27, 1893, by Various

This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org

Title: Punch or the London Charivari, Vol. 104, May 27, 1893

Author: Various

Editor: Francis Burnand

Release Date: December 11, 2008 [EBook #27493]

Language: English

*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PUNCH ** *

Produced by Lesley Halamek, Juliet Sutherland and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net

Punch, or the London Charivari

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AN APPEAL FOR INSPIRATION. [Mr. Lewis Morris has been requested to write an ode on the approaching Royal Marriage.] Awake my Muse, inspire your Lewis Morris To pen an ode! to be another Horris! "Horace" I should have written, but in place of it You see the word—well, I'm within an ace of it. Awake my muse! strike up! your bard inspire To write this—"by particular desire." Wet towels! Midnight oil! Here! Everything That can induce the singing bard to sing. Shake me, Ye Nine! I'm resolute, I'm bold! Come, Inspiration, lend thy furious hold! Morris on Pegasus! Plank money down! I'll back myself to win the Laureate's Crown!

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.

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.

Imperial Institute Notice at the Reception.—"Guests must retain their wraps and Head Coverings ." Evidently no bald men admitted.

ARESERVED SEAT. A RESERVED SEAT. Mistress. "Well, James, how did you like the Show? I hope you got a good view." Jim. "Yes thankye, M'm; I saw it first-rate. There was room fur Four or Five more where I was." Mistress (surprised). "Indeed!—where was that?" Jim. "In the Park, M'm,—up a Ches'nut Tree."

ODDS BOBBILI! ( The Rajah of Bobbili arrived by P.& O. at Marseilles, where he was received by Col. Humphrey on behalf of the Queen. ) 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.

Is the Times  also among the Punsters?—In its masterly, or rather school-masterly, article last Saturday, on "The Divisions on the Home-Rule Bill," written with the special intention of whipping up the Unionist absentees, the Times said, "There is an opinion that, with a measure so far-reaching in its character as the Home-Rule Bill, pairing should be resorted to as sparingly as possible." The eye gifted with a three-thousand-joke-search-light power sees the pun at once, and reproduces it italicised, to be read aloud, thus—" Pairing should be resorted to as pairingly as possible " What shall . he have who makes a pun in the Times ? Our congratulations. Henceforth, to the jest-detectors this new development may prove most interesting.

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SUSPIRIA. ( By a Fogey. )

A BUSINESS LETTER. ["Marriage is daily becoming a more commercial affair."— A Society Paper. ] 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 (perhaps) devoted Mabel!

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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." ( Riddle adaptable also to exhausted manipulator in Turkish Bath after a hard day's work. )

THE MONEY-BOXING KANGAROO. THE MONEY-BOXING KANGAROO. ( Knocked-Out—for the Time! )

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Change Its Name!—An estate in the Island of Fowlness, Essex, of 382 acres, was put up to auction last week, and, according to the Daily News  there was only one bid at a little short of eight pounds per acre. "The property was withdrawn." This step was judicious and correct. It was an act of fairness to Fowlness. But then, does it sound nice for anyone to say, "I'm living in the midst of Fowlness"? It may be a Paradise, but it doesn't sound like it.

MISUNDERSTOOD. MISUNDERSTOOD. Little Girl. "Oh, Mamma, I'm so glad you had such a pleasant Dinner at the Vicarage. And—who took you in?" Mother. "Who took Me in, dear Child! No man ever took Me in. Not even your dear Father; for when I married him, I knew all his Faults!"

THE END OF THE DROUGHT. ( By a Cab-horse. )

Don't talk to us in praise of rain! When we are slipping once again; This beastly shower Has made wood-pavements thick with slime. Suppose you try another time, By mile or hour; See how you'd like to trot and trip, To stop and stagger, slide and slip, Pulled up affrighted, Urged madly on, then checked once more, Whilst from some omnibus's door Some lout alighted. You would not find much cause to laugh, Like us, you would not care for chaff Were you such draggers; Your shoes would soon be off, or worn, You'd get, what we don't often, corn, And end with staggers. You'd long to be put out to grass, Infrequent so far with your class— Nebuchadnezzar Was quite an isolated case— You would be tired of life's long-race; Slaves who in Fez are, On the Sahara could not bear Such toil as falleth to our share, For death would free them. You say the farmer wants the wet For meadows; pray do not forget We never see them. Philanthropists, why don't you walk? Of slaves' hard lives you blandly talk, Like "Uncle Tom"—nay, You think what your own horses do, But we—there, get along with you! Allez vous promener!

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