"CONSERVATION OF TISSUE."Uncle."Well, Tommy, you See I'm Back; are you Ready? What have I to Pay for, Miss?"Miss."Three Buns, Four Sponge Cakes, Two Sandwiches, One Jelly, Five Tarts, and—"Uncle."Good Gracious, Boy! Are you not Ill?"Tommy."No, Uncle; but I'm Thirsty."
"CONSERVATION OF TISSUE."
Uncle."Well, Tommy, you See I'm Back; are you Ready? What have I to Pay for, Miss?"
Miss."Three Buns, Four Sponge Cakes, Two Sandwiches, One Jelly, Five Tarts, and—"
Uncle."Good Gracious, Boy! Are you not Ill?"
Tommy."No, Uncle; but I'm Thirsty."
Wenever knew a cabman with an eyeglass, or a chimneysweep with spectacles.
We never knew a lady buy a bargain at a shop sale, and not afterwards regret it.
We never knew a man propose the toast of the evening, without his wishing that it had not been placed in abler hands.
We never knew a waiter in a hurry, at a chop-house, who did not say that he was "Coming, Sir!" when really he was going.
We never lost a game to a professional at billiards, without hearing him assign his triumph chiefly to his flukes.
"Canningdid not know that tadpolesTurn to frogs." Each fool explodes:But that Queller of the YelpersKnew that patriots turn to toads.Gladstonegoes in for omniscience;Does the team obey the bitAs whenPam'swhip stung with banter,Or whenCanning'scut with wit?William!Punch, who likes you, counsels—Mix some humour with your zeal,Making humbugs think is hopeless:Be content to make themfeel.
"Canningdid not know that tadpolesTurn to frogs." Each fool explodes:But that Queller of the YelpersKnew that patriots turn to toads.
"Canningdid not know that tadpoles
Turn to frogs." Each fool explodes:
But that Queller of the Yelpers
Knew that patriots turn to toads.
Gladstonegoes in for omniscience;Does the team obey the bitAs whenPam'swhip stung with banter,Or whenCanning'scut with wit?
Gladstonegoes in for omniscience;
Does the team obey the bit
As whenPam'swhip stung with banter,
Or whenCanning'scut with wit?
William!Punch, who likes you, counsels—Mix some humour with your zeal,Making humbugs think is hopeless:Be content to make themfeel.
William!Punch, who likes you, counsels—
Mix some humour with your zeal,
Making humbugs think is hopeless:
Be content to make themfeel.
ACorrespondentof theTimes, whose note is headed "Civil Service Grammar," writes a remonstrance because he has seen a Government Cart going about inscribed "Her Majesty's Stationary Office." He is evidently under a misconception as to what office is meant, for what man who reflects on the progress of the new Law Courts, the new National Gallery, the new Natural History Museum, the Wellington Monument, &c., can doubt for a moment that "Her Majesty's Stationary Office" is the Office of Works and Public buildings?
"A Meeting was held in the Hall of Columbia Market, on Monday evening,Sir Thomas Dakinin the Chair, to consider what testimonial of public respect and gratitude should be offered toBaroness Burdett Coutts."—Daily News.
Sweetnames there are that carry sweet natures in their sound;Whose ring, like hallowed bells of old, seems to shed blessing round:Such a name of good omen,Florence Nightingale, is thine;And hers, ourAngela's, for all in want and woe that pine.TheQueenhas made her noble; but ere that rank was given,She had donned robe and coronet of the peerage made in Heaven:Baptised in purer honour than from earthly fountain flows,Raised to a prouder Upper House than our proud island knows.The loftiest of that peerage are of lowliest mood and will;And this their proudest lordship, Love's service to fulfil:Chief Stewards and High Almoners of the goods Heaven bestows—'Tis theirs to see that Charity in Wisdom's channels flows.For e'en that stream, ill-guided, can poison goodly ground—For health, sow fever broadcast, for blessing, blight, around:'Tis not enough its waters to loose with lib'ral mind;If Reason lends not eyes to Love, Love strays—for he is blind.Thisshehas known, ourAngela, for whom men ask, e'en now,"Fit tribute of our gratitude where shall we pay, and how?"If blessings clothed in substance, prayers made palpable, could be,When had Kaiser, King, or Conqueror, such monument as she?But what can gold, or silver, or bronze, or marble, payOf the unsummed debt of gratitude owed her this many a day?What record, parchment-blazoned, closed in golden casket rare,Can with her love, in England's heart, for preciousness compare?If we needs must find her symbol, then carve and set on highA heavy-laden camel going through the needle's eye;Gold-burdened, by a gentle yet firm hand wisely driven,—OurAngela's, that on it rides, riches and all, to Heaven!Or if a painted record be by the occasion claimed,Paint up Bethesda's Pool, and round, the sick, the halt, and maimed,Waiting until ourAngelathrough Earth's afflicted goTo stir wealth's healing waters, that await her hand to flow.
Sweetnames there are that carry sweet natures in their sound;Whose ring, like hallowed bells of old, seems to shed blessing round:Such a name of good omen,Florence Nightingale, is thine;And hers, ourAngela's, for all in want and woe that pine.
Sweetnames there are that carry sweet natures in their sound;
Whose ring, like hallowed bells of old, seems to shed blessing round:
Such a name of good omen,Florence Nightingale, is thine;
And hers, ourAngela's, for all in want and woe that pine.
TheQueenhas made her noble; but ere that rank was given,She had donned robe and coronet of the peerage made in Heaven:Baptised in purer honour than from earthly fountain flows,Raised to a prouder Upper House than our proud island knows.
TheQueenhas made her noble; but ere that rank was given,
She had donned robe and coronet of the peerage made in Heaven:
Baptised in purer honour than from earthly fountain flows,
Raised to a prouder Upper House than our proud island knows.
The loftiest of that peerage are of lowliest mood and will;And this their proudest lordship, Love's service to fulfil:Chief Stewards and High Almoners of the goods Heaven bestows—'Tis theirs to see that Charity in Wisdom's channels flows.
The loftiest of that peerage are of lowliest mood and will;
And this their proudest lordship, Love's service to fulfil:
Chief Stewards and High Almoners of the goods Heaven bestows—
'Tis theirs to see that Charity in Wisdom's channels flows.
For e'en that stream, ill-guided, can poison goodly ground—For health, sow fever broadcast, for blessing, blight, around:'Tis not enough its waters to loose with lib'ral mind;If Reason lends not eyes to Love, Love strays—for he is blind.
For e'en that stream, ill-guided, can poison goodly ground—
For health, sow fever broadcast, for blessing, blight, around:
'Tis not enough its waters to loose with lib'ral mind;
If Reason lends not eyes to Love, Love strays—for he is blind.
Thisshehas known, ourAngela, for whom men ask, e'en now,"Fit tribute of our gratitude where shall we pay, and how?"If blessings clothed in substance, prayers made palpable, could be,When had Kaiser, King, or Conqueror, such monument as she?
Thisshehas known, ourAngela, for whom men ask, e'en now,
"Fit tribute of our gratitude where shall we pay, and how?"
If blessings clothed in substance, prayers made palpable, could be,
When had Kaiser, King, or Conqueror, such monument as she?
But what can gold, or silver, or bronze, or marble, payOf the unsummed debt of gratitude owed her this many a day?What record, parchment-blazoned, closed in golden casket rare,Can with her love, in England's heart, for preciousness compare?
But what can gold, or silver, or bronze, or marble, pay
Of the unsummed debt of gratitude owed her this many a day?
What record, parchment-blazoned, closed in golden casket rare,
Can with her love, in England's heart, for preciousness compare?
If we needs must find her symbol, then carve and set on highA heavy-laden camel going through the needle's eye;Gold-burdened, by a gentle yet firm hand wisely driven,—OurAngela's, that on it rides, riches and all, to Heaven!
If we needs must find her symbol, then carve and set on high
A heavy-laden camel going through the needle's eye;
Gold-burdened, by a gentle yet firm hand wisely driven,—
OurAngela's, that on it rides, riches and all, to Heaven!
Or if a painted record be by the occasion claimed,Paint up Bethesda's Pool, and round, the sick, the halt, and maimed,Waiting until ourAngelathrough Earth's afflicted goTo stir wealth's healing waters, that await her hand to flow.
Or if a painted record be by the occasion claimed,
Paint up Bethesda's Pool, and round, the sick, the halt, and maimed,
Waiting until ourAngelathrough Earth's afflicted go
To stir wealth's healing waters, that await her hand to flow.
TheEastern Morning News—what a pretty name—why not theDawn?—hath a prosaic item: this:—
Wanted, a GROOM and Coachman, and to assist the Gardener. Wages, 18s. per week to commence with, to be advanced 1s. per year for every year he remains. Must understand horses and pigs, and be able to drive one, or a pair.
We do not think the wages too high. A celebrated Oxford Don, who could make Greek verses as fast as mill-wheels strike, yet who was not so ready with ordinary English, beheld, from the top of a coach, a drover striving to guide some pigs along the road. Wishing to be conversational, the Don observed to his neighbour, "A difficult Animal to drive is a Pig—one man—a good many—very." Here, observe, were the materials for a pleasing remark, but they needed arrangement. He was right, however. Pigs are difficult to drive, and the Yorkshire advertiser who wants a man able to drive one pig, or a pair, is right in offering him the above noble rise in wage. Correspondents will abstain from vulgar suggestions about a pig and a "hog"—we don't understand them.
"HERE BE TRUTHS."Mistress."Bring some more Bread, Martha?"Maid."There's nane, Mem!"Mistress."O, Nonsense! I saw a Loaf in the Pantry."Maid."Did ye, Mem? I'm thinking it's Time ye were getting Specs, then, for it's a Cheese!"
Mistress."Bring some more Bread, Martha?"
Maid."There's nane, Mem!"
Mistress."O, Nonsense! I saw a Loaf in the Pantry."
Maid."Did ye, Mem? I'm thinking it's Time ye were getting Specs, then, for it's a Cheese!"
"Letme use mybiretta,"SaysCardinal Cullen"To fan Ireland's school-lampThat burns smoky and sullen.""No," says England, "your motive'Twere cruel to doubt,—But what if your rev'rencShould put the lamp out?"
"Letme use mybiretta,"SaysCardinal Cullen"To fan Ireland's school-lampThat burns smoky and sullen."
"Letme use mybiretta,"
SaysCardinal Cullen
"To fan Ireland's school-lamp
That burns smoky and sullen."
"No," says England, "your motive'Twere cruel to doubt,—But what if your rev'rencShould put the lamp out?"
"No," says England, "your motive
'Twere cruel to doubt,—
But what if your rev'renc
Should put the lamp out?"
DearOld England! well may one exclaim, on reading in theDaily Newsa statement such as this:—
"Value of Land in Lombard Street.—A piece of land adjoining the Lombard Exchange, in Lombard Street, has been sold for £9000, or about £19 4s. 6d. per foot super."
It used to be affirmed that London streets were paved with gold, and, by the side of the above, the story hardly seems beyond one's power of credulity. Land worth nineteen pounds per foot must be wellnigh as good as gold to its fortunate possessor, and the man who owned an acre of it would hardly need to emigrate to any other diggings. Assuredly, to anyFortunatuswho owns much land in Lombard Street, London may be looked on as the true Tom Tiddler's Ground.
Mr. Punchhears thatLord Chief Justice Cockburn(one of our most accomplished Latin writers) intimated to theChancellorthat the appointment of the new Judge for the Queen's Bench was aSine Quainon.
Mr. Punch
Is the English language a thing to be ashamed of? I put the question, because in a weekly literary journal, printed and published in London in the mother tongue, I have just read, not without some rubbing of eyes and much mental bewilderment, the following singular announcement:—
"Institution of Civil Engineers.—TheEmperor of Brésilwas elected an Honorary Member."
I have never heard that Brazil has become a French possession, and I am positive that the Institution of Civil Engineers is not in Paris, but in Great George Street, Westminster. Why, then, Brésil? Crack this Brazil-nut for
Yours, unaffectedly,
Jno. Smith.
P.S.—Can fish talk? I ask this second question, after seeing that another periodical publication contains an article with the heading, "Perch Prattle."
Ofall the odd kinds of consolation under affliction, the last suggestion seems toMr. Punchthe oddest. We are mourning the demise of the no-horned Infant Hippopotamus in the Regent's Park, and we are told to be cheerful, for a two-horned Infant Rhinoceros has gone to Madrid. The doctrine of compensations was never pushed much further, even in a Scotch sermon.
Plato gives the best reason why Woman's Rights should be conceded, and Women be admitted to power. Listen, Dears, "Rulers should have Personal Beauty." Kiss ums own oldPunch.
Printed by Joseph Smith, of No. 24, Holford square, in the Parish of St. James, Clerkenwell, in the County of Middlesex, at the Printing Offices of Messrs. Bradbury, Evans, & Co., Lombard Street, in the Precinct of Whitefriars, in the City of London, and Published by him at No. 65, Fleet Street, in the Parish of St. Bride, City of London.—Saturday, January 27, 1872.
Throughout the dialogues, there were words used to mimic accents of the speakers. Those words were retained as-is.
The illustrations have been moved so that they do not break up paragraphs and so that they are next the text they illustrate.
Errors in punctuations and inconsistent hyphenation were not corrected.