Read Ebook: Punch or the London Charivari Vol. 93. October 1 1887 by Various
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THE WAIL OF MESSRS. BURT AND FENWICK.
THE Northumberland Miners' U-ni-on Have bidden their BURT bego-o-one. It seems, by the ballot, we soon shall be all out, And there'll be an end to our fun.
Of course if you give us the sa-a-ack, Our Gladstone bags we must pa-a-ack, But perhaps for this hurry some day you'll be sorry, And wish BURT and FENWICK both back.
THE 'EAT OF DISCUSSION.
HE left the court with his colleagues at twenty minutes to one o'clock. He said nothing, but listened intently while the question of the Inquest was canvassed. Was it to be a verdict of Manslaughter or Murder, or only Accidental Death? He listened so intently that he was quite surprised when the clock struck two.
Yes two o'clock--time for his lunch!
He rose from his seat, and went to the door. He spoke to one on the other side, he talked of cuts from the joints, and chops and steaks.
He was answered with laughter!
Then he returned to his chair, rather put out at this ill-timed pleasantry, and listened once more to the arguments of his colleagues. They had got beyond the verdict now, and were discussing the "riders." The first, elaborately blaming the Magistrates, had been framed and passed, and the second dealing with the bye-laws of the Town Council was under consideration. Before it was finally settled the clock struck three!
Yes, three! and since twenty-minutes to one he had been locked in lunchless! He went to the door and beat it with his fists!
"Might he have a cut off the joint?"
"No!"
Again he was silent, and again his colleagues continued their discussion. They spoke in lower tones now, because they too were feeling the want of food. Four struck, and then five.
He staggered once more to the door, and in piteous tones made a last request,
Might he have a sandwich?
No!!!!!
It was too much! He ground his teeth in rage! Five hours had elapsed, and then the last and eighth rider, suggesting that after its final completion a theatre should be thrown open for public inspection for a week before a licence was granted, was passed. The work of the Jury was over.
It was indeed a painful scene. The eleven men who had taken part in the discussion were entirely exhausted. Some were slumbering from weakness, others were wearily "talking on their fingers." Hunger had made these last absolutely dumb. Reams of papers were scattered about covered with writing. Here and there was a quill-pen partly consumed. Even the blotting-pads testified to the presence of hungry men--some of the leaves showed the traces of a stealthy nibble. In the heat of argument hours before, a juryman, anxious to impress an opinion upon a sceptic colleague, had offered to "eat his hat." He now gazed at the head-gear with greedy eyes, as if anxious to carry out his proposition.
The Foreman, in a whisper, asked if anyone had any further suggestions to make.
Then the rage of the starving one gave him fictitious strength. He stood up, and shrieked out, "I express my opinion that the non-supply of refreshments to the Jury for several hours is a blot on the legal system of the country!"
In a moment the Foreman and his colleagues sprang to their feet, and, making a supreme effort, shouted out, "Agreed! agreed! agreed!"
And what further did these poor famished men, these heroes of the long, foodless day, these martyrs to a cruel system--a wretched system--these victims to an abuse that should be swept away like chaff before the wind--ay, what farther did they do after their trumpet-tongued cry of indignant denunciation?
Why that they went home and had their dinner!
THE BICYCLISTS OF ENGLAND.
YE Bicyclists of England Who stride your wheels with ease, How little do you think upon What Mr. STURMEY sees. The wheelmen's standard rises high With every year that goes. Wheels sweep, fast and cheap, Whereof STURMEY'S trumpet blows-- Our cycles range more swift and strong, And STURMEY'S trumpet blows.
The Cycles of our fathers Were "bone-shakers," and few, But the cinder-path's broad field of fame Shows what their sons can do. When WYNDHAM rose, and STANTON fell, The pace was cramped and slow; Their creep to our sweep Rouses STURMEY'S scorn, you know-- Our Cycles now run fleet and strong, And STURMEY'S trumpets blow.
Britannia needs no bulwark-- Tariffs her trade to keep, Her "wheels" are found on every path; Coventry's not asleep. Our WOODS and HOWELLS wheel like fun, JACK KEEN can make 'em go. Foes we floor from each shore, Whereof STURMEY'S trumpets blow-- Our Cyclists lick the world by long, And STURMEY'S trumpets blow.
The old stream runs by her, not with the old tones, Sing willow, willow, willow! But, churned by coarse paddles, it plashes and groans; Sing willow, willow, willow!
Better fifty years of Europe Than a Cycle of Cathay,--
--as turtle-doves, you know. Still, that chuckling and cavorting American fowl, that two-headed and vulturine Russo-Polish Eagle, do not quite fit into the Mongolian Arcadia of the Willow-pattern plate; now do they? We have fallen, lily of my life, upon sordid, and subversive, and sceptical times, when millions of taels move our Mandarins to Modernism, when Silver Rings and Syndicates, can set up a Party of Progress in the Realm of the Immutable, and when doubts have been thrown by shallow scribes upon the existence of the Great Wall of China itself!
A storm of rain and wind swept us out of La Bourboule--we subsequently heard that there was snow at Mont Dore--and drove us post-haste back to Royat warmth--comparative warmth, that is, for they were having two or three cold, rainy, and gusty days at Royat, too, preceding the day fixed for the Eclipse. But such weather is bearable at Royat, if you have once experienced it at La Bourboule. The valley of Royat is fairly high up, and well sheltered; but as to the situation of La Bourboule and Mont Dore, one may say, reversing the quotation, "And in the highest heights a higher still!" "Only not, by any means still," says PULLER, who knows the country, and whom no inducement will lead away from Royat.
Stay at Royat for cure; visit--as excursions easily done in a day, when you're in fettle--La Bourboule and Mont Dore. For all information, ask the most civil of men, and the most obliging, the agent, who has an office in a line with the few shops situated on the upper terrace of the Parc. He will tell you everything--and be delighted to do it.
OUR ADVERTISERS.
THEATRICAL AND RE-ASSURING.
THE ROYAL UNINFLAMMABLE THEATRE.--The sole Lessee and Manager begs to inform his patrons, the public, that he has left no stone unturned to render it by a long way.
THE SAFEST THEATRE IN THE TWO HEMISPHERES. The mere perusal of the advertisements appearing in the daily press, furnishing the intending audience with a complete handbook of escape in the event of any sudden catastrophe, must, he feels, afford them.
REAL PLEASURE, which, owing to the precautionary measures he has taken for their protection, they may genuinely experience when securing their places for a performance in the unique fireproof auditorium.
THE ROYAL UNINFLAMMABLE THEATRE has all its doors taken off their hinges the moment the performance commences.
THE ROYAL UNINFLAMMABLE THEATRE possesses concrete Stalls.
THE ROYAL UNINFLAMMABLE THEATRE, has its private boxes constructed with perforated shower-bath ceilings that drench the occupants without ceasing the entire evening.
THE ROYAL UNINFLAMMABLE THEATRE.--An "Apprehensive Playgoer" writes:--"We were in one continual downpour from the rising of the Curtain to its fall; and though we are all still suffering from rheumatism, our party was enabled, with the aid of umbrellas and waterproofs, to enjoy the evening's entertainment with a sense of security that was as novel as it was refreshing."
THE ROYAL UNINFLAMMABLE THEATRE.--The Management provides everyone paying at the doors with a Fire-Escape, that can be left outside, and a Life Assurance Policy, available for the duration of the evening's entertainment.
THE ROYAL UNINFLAMMABLE THEATRE has, in every gangway, a steam fire-engine served by a fully-equipped complement of members of the London Fire Brigade, who inspire the audience with confidence by, from time to time, playing on portions of them with a five-inch hose.
THE ROYAL UNINFLAMMABLE THEATRE is provided with cast-iron scenery, and has, as its Stage Manager, a retired Fire-King.
THE ROYAL UNINFLAMMABLE THEATRE is surrounded by a network of balconies, affording access, by iron staircases, to the roofs of all the adjacent houses in the neighbourhood.
THE ROYAL UNINFLAMMABLE THEATRE has in effect no walls, and is practically all "Exit."
THE ROYAL UNINFLAMMABLE THEATRE can be virtually emptied before a checktaker could say "Jack Robinson!"
THE ROYAL UNINFLAMMABLE THEATRE.--A "NERVOUS FIRST-NIGHTER" writes: "Being seized the other evening in the middle of the front row of the stalls with a purely private and personal, but uncontrollable panic, I rushed from my place, and made with all the haste I could command for the street. Though, in my hurry I found it necessary to have a couple of vigorous fights of several rounds each with two box-keepers in succession, which resulted in my being eventually removed from the house, struggling with three policemen, six refreshment-stall-keepers, and nine firemen, it only took me twenty-seven minutes and a half from the time I started from my place inside till I found myself deposited in the midst of a jeering crowd on the steps of the principal entrance."
THE ROYAL UNINFLAMMABLE THEATRE will set up chronic lumbago in the Dress Circle.
THE ROYAL UNINFLAMMABLE THEATRE is the dampest Public Lounge in Europe.
THE ROYAL UNINFLAMMABLE THEATRE may be visited freely by pleasure-seekers, in whom, as Members of Burial Clubs, their families take a lively interest.
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