"A MESSAGE FROM THE SEA."
Reading edition
Father Neptune. "LOOK HERE, JOHN, THERE'S A JOLLY SIGHT O' THEM FURRIN' CRAFT ABOUT, TAKE A TIP FROM YOUR OLD FRIEND—BUILD ALL YOU KNOW—AND DASH THE EXPENSE!"
TO BOBBY.
(To the tune of "To Tommy.")
Blue Bobby, brave and strong, They begin to right your wrong. Silent shoes, and now revolvers! That will do! Now I hope you'll make things plain To the brutal burglar train; And, Bobby, Punch's best respects to you! May "tips" swell your smallish pay On the coming Boxing Day; (For I know they're rather screwy with your "screw.") Shod and armed upon your round, Heaven keep you safe and sound, And, Bobby, John Bull's best respects to you!
The Lilly's Lesson.—Mr. Lilly, in the New Review, reminds Dives that "there is no excuse for riches which are divorced from public obligation." This cuts deeply! Possibly Dives would retort upon the author of "Shibboleths" that riches require no "excuse." At any rate we do not often find men making excuses for being rich, though apologies for poverty are common enough. All the same, Mr. Punch would strongly recommend Dives—especially at this festive season—to "consider the (W. S.) Lilly"!
"A Long Break."—À propos of our picture in last week's issue, we have received the following suggestion:—"Sir, if Mr. Gladstone, the great billiard player, wishes to continue his 'long break,' wouldn't it be advisable for him 'to take a rest.'—Yours truly, Breakers A. Head."
AT THE COURTS OF JUSTICE.
First Litigant. "I'm Bankruptcy. What are you?" Second L. "I'm Divorce." First L. "Then you stand Lunch!"
SEASONABLE REFLECTION.
(By an Old Fogey.)
We are hearing a lot of "the Buffer State"; Faith! it comes to us all—after Forty-eight! When from gout, and the pretty girls' scorn, we suffer, We have all arrived at the state of the "Buffer."
"For this Relief—much Thanks." Shakspeare.—A correspondent in the Pall Mall Gazette recently complained of the disappearance of "Thank you," and the substitution of "Thanks" and "Thanks awfully." Why not? It is but a revival of the ancient Latin form "gratias," and surely plural "Thanks" indicates indefinitely more thankfulness than an uneffusive, frigid, singular "Thank you," signifying "I thank you." Let us be Shakspearianly classical, as in the quotation above given, and say "Much thanks." So again, "I am poor in thanks—but I thank you." Here the relative value of the plural and the singular in thanks is well brought out.
BALL VERSUS BALL.
Lyttelton and Lang—with all Whom pure prejudice can't fetter,— Say—concerning games at ball— Golf is good but Cricket better. Wisdom owns an ounce of practice Worth a ton of theory. Fact is, Those who set that saw a-run, Had not seen a Lyttel-ton! Who performs as well as teaches, And can practice what he preaches.
"AFTER THE BALL" IN PARIS.
My Dear Mons. Punch,—I am delighted! I am overjoyed! Why, your Oxford College has accepted the challenge of our Racing Club to play a game of kic bal this month of December! It is good! It is very good indeed! It makes cold, so I can not go for to see the sport.
But permit me, I would propose these rules in the cause of humanity, for the sake of civilisation. I give them below. They are not many:—
Proposed Rules for "le jeu de kic bal" between Oxford College and Racing Club.
1. No kickers to approach closer to one another than six yards distance.
2. The scrimmage to be interdicted. Sergent de ville to be on guard on the ground to prevent assaults even of the most trifling character.
3. Boots not to be worn, but dancing-pumps.
4. The players to wear fur-lined coats, and to take arm-chairs on the ground for their comfort.
5. The "kic bal" to be made of inflated india-rubber, with a hole in the centre, so that it shall collapse without causing injury.
6. No game of "kic bal" to last more than five minutes, and after every game a pause of one hour to be permitted, so that the players may have necessary rest and proper refreshment.
And yet one more suggestion. But this shall not be a rule but only an offering. I make you a present of the idea—so charming—as a compliment of the season. Let the goals be made of Christmas-trees, let the "kickers" be covered with holly and mistletoe (like your "Jack-in-the-Green"), and instead of a brutal, rough, hard, uncomfortable globe of leather, let the "kic bal" be a veritable plum pudding!
Your hand! I wish you "Joking Christmas Amiable New Year." Your friend—and brother, "gentlemans ridere,"
Paris in December.
(Signed) Jules.
News from Monte Carlo.—Mr. J-hn M-rl-y is, we are glad to hear, much better. Rouge gagne.
A WINDY CORNER AT BRIGHTON.
(By an Impressionist.)
Old lady first, with hair like winter snows, Makes moan. And struggles. Then, with cheeks too richly rose, A crone, Gold hair, new teeth, white powder on her nose; All bone And skin; an "Ancient Mystery," like those Of Hone. Then comes a girl; sweet face that freshly glows! Well grown. The neat cloth gown her supple figure shows, Now thrown In lines of beauty. Last, in graceless pose, Half prone, A luckless lout, caught by the blast, one knows His tone Means oaths; his hat, straight as fly crows, Has flown. I laugh at him, and —— Hi! By Jove, there goes My own!
Motto for Lady Champagne Drinkers.—"Sweetness and light!"