Mr. Punch's Life in London by J. A. Hammerton (i wanna iguana read aloud .txt) 📖
- Author: J. A. Hammerton
Book online «Mr. Punch's Life in London by J. A. Hammerton (i wanna iguana read aloud .txt) 📖». Author J. A. Hammerton
SYMPHONY IN BLACK
The vassal who does soot and service.
Official Order.—All cabmen plying within hail are to be supplied with umbrellas by Government.
[Pg 25]
HE DIDN'T MEAN TO LOSE THAT
"Miffins, the book-keeper, tells me that you have lost the key of the safe, and he cannot get at the books."
"Yes, sir, one of them. You gave me two, you remember."
"Yes; I had duplicates made in case of accident. And the other?"
"Oh, sir, I took care of that. I was afraid I might lose one of them, you know."
"And is the other all right?"
"Yes, sir. I put it where there was no danger of it being lost. It is in the safe, sir!"
[Pg 26]
IN A NOVEMBER FOG
Frenchman (just arrived on his first visit to London). "Ha, ha! my frien', now I understan' vot you mean ven you say ze sun nevaire set in your dominion, ma foi! It does not rise!"
[Pg 27]
"NEVER TOO LATE TO MEND"
Thirsty Soul (after several gyrations round the letter-box). "I sh'like t'know wha'-sh-'e good 'f gen'lem'n-sh turn'n tea-tot'ller 'f gov'm'nt (hic) goes-h an' cut-sh th' shpouts-h o' th' bumpsh off!"
[Pg 28]
THE LONDONER'S DIARY (For August)Monday.—Got up at nine o'clock. Lounged to the park. No one there. Went to bed at twelve.
Tuesday.—Got up at ten o'clock. Walked to the House of Commons. Closed. Went to bed at eleven.
Wednesday.—Got up at eleven o'clock. Looked in at Prince's. Deserted. Went to bed at ten.
Thursday.—Got up at twelve o'clock. Strolled to the club. Shut up for repairs. Went to bed at nine.
Friday.—Got up at one o'clock. Stayed at home. Dull. Went to bed at eight.
Saturday.—Got up at five a.m. Went out of town at six.
The Reverse of the School for Scandal.—A school in which very few members of society are brought up—a charity school.
[Pg 29]
PAST RECLAIMING
Brixton Barber. "Revival seems to be in the hair, sir."
Customer. "Not in mine!"
[Pg 30]
FOGThou comest in familiar guise,
When in the morning I awake,
You irritate my throat and eyes,
I vow that life's a sad mistake.
You come to hang about my hair,
My much-enduring lungs to clog,
I feel you with me everywhere,
Our own peculiar London fog.
You clothe the City in such gloom,
We scarce can see across the street,
You seem to penetrate each room,
And mix with everything I eat.
I hardly dare to stir about,
But sit supine as any log;
You make it torture to go out,
Our own peculiar London fog.
The End of Table-turning.—An inmate of a lunatic asylum, driven mad by spiritualism, wishes to try to turn the multiplication table.
"The Question of the Hour."—What o'clock is it?
Perpetual Motion Discovered.—The winding up of public companies.
Flies in Amber.—Yellow cabs.
[Pg 31]
'Bus Driver (to Cabby, who is trying to lash his horse into something like a trot). "Wot's the matter with 'im, Willum? 'E don't seem 'isself this mornin'. I believe you've bin an' changed 'is milk!"
[Pg 32]
A SKETCH FROM LIFE
Chorus (slow music). "We're a rare old—fair old—rickety, rackety crew!"
[Pg 33]
Scene—In a 'Bus.
Time—During the Hot Spell.
First City Man. "D——d hot, isn't—— I—I beg your pardon, madam, I—I quite forgot there was a lady pres——"
Stout Party. "Don't apologise. It's much worse than that!"
[Pg 34]
THE CAPITALISTS (A Story of Yesterday for To-morrow and To-day)"What, Brown, my boy, is that you?" said Smith, heartily.
"The same, and delighted to see you," was the reply.
"Have you heard the news, my dear fellow?" asked Smith.
"You mean about the position of the Bank of England? Why, certainly; all the City is talking about it."
"Ah, it is absolutely grand! Never was the Old Lady of Threadneedle Street in such a strong position. Marvellous! my dear friend; absolutely marvellous!"
"Quite so. Never were we—as a people—so rich!"
"Yes, prosperity seems to be coming back by leaps and bounds."
"You never said anything so true," observed Smith.
"Right you are," cried Brown.
And then the two friends shook hands once[Pg 36] more with increased cordiality, and passed on. They walked in different directions a few steps, and both stopped. They turned round.
"Smith," said Brown, "I have to ask you a trifling favour."
"Brown, it is granted before I know its purport."
"Well, the truth is, I am penniless—lend me half-a-crown."
Smith paused for a moment.
"You surely do not wish to refuse me?" asked Brown in a tone of pained surprise.
"I do not, Smith," replied his friend, with fervour. "Indeed, I do not!"
"Then produce the two-and-sixpence."
"I would, my dear fellow, if in the wide world I could raise it!"
And then the ancient comrades shook hands once again, and parted in sorrow, but not in anger. They felt that after all they were only in the fashion.
[Pg 35]
A NEGLECTED INDUSTRY
"'Ow are yer gettin' on, Bill?"
"Ain't gettin' on at all. I'm beginnin' to think as the publick doesn't know what they wants!"
Too Common a Thing.
A member of a limited liability company in a bad way, said he should turn itinerant preacher. He was asked why? He said he had had a call.
[Pg 37]
Country Cousin. "Do you stop at the Cecil?"
'Bus Driver. "Do I stop at the Cecil!—on twenty-eight bob a week!"
[Pg 38]
Frightful Levity.
Bus-Driver. "Hullo, gov'nour; got any room?"
Policeman, Driving Van (with great want of self-respect). "Just room for one; saved a place a purpose for you, sir."
Bus-Driver. "What's yer fare?"
Policeman. "Bread and water; same as you had afore!"
[Pg 39]
A Misunderstanding.
Old Gent. (evidently from the Shires). "Hi! hoy! stop!"
Conductor. "'Old 'ard Bill!" (To Old Gent.) "Where are yer for, sir?"
Old Gent. (panting in pursuit). "Here!—let's have a—box o' them—safety matches!"
[Objurgations![Pg 40]
ON THE SPECULATIVE BUILDERHe's the readiest customer living,
While you're lending, or spending or giving;
But when you'd make profit, or get back your own,
He's the awkwardest customer ever you've known.
Favourite Song on the Stock Exchange.—"Oh! what a difference in the morning!"
The Real "Bitter" Cry of London.—The demand for Bass and Allsopp.
Cabby calls the new auto-cars his motormentors.
Thorough!
Hairdresser (to perspiring Customer during the late hot weather). "'Hair cut, sir?"
Stout Party (falling into the chair, exhausted). "Ye——"
Hairdresser. "Much off, sir?"
Stout Party. "(Phew!) Cut it to the bone!"
[Pg 41]
DIVERTING THE TRAFFIC!
The Thing to Throw Light on Spiritualistic S�ances.—A spirit-lamp.
The Ruling Passion.—A great financial reformer is so devoted to figures that when he has nothing else to do he casts up his eyes.
Bubble Concerns.—A�rated water companies.
[Pg 42]
NEW LONDON STREET DIRECTORYAdam Street.—Antediluvian anecdotes and traditions still linger here.
Air Street.—Doctors send their patients to this locality for change.
Aldermanbury.—Visited by numbers of bereaved relatives.
Amwell Street.—Always healthy.
Barking Alley.—To be avoided in the dog days.
Boy Court.—Not far from Child's Place.
Camomile Street.—See Wormwood Street.
Coldbath Square.—Very bracing.
Distaff Lane.—Full of spinsters.
Farm Street.—Highly sensitive to the fluctuations of the corn market.
Fashion Street.—Magnificent sight in the height of the season.
First Street.—Of immense antiquity.
Friday Street.—Great jealousy felt by all the other days of the week.
[Pg 44]
Garlick Hill.—Make a little d�tour.
Glasshouse Street.—Heavily insured against hailstorms.
Godliman Street.—Irreproachable.
Great Smith Street.—Which of the Smiths is this?
Grundy Street.—Named after that famous historic character—Mrs. Grundy.
Hercules Buildings.—Rich in traditions and stories of the "Labours" of the Founder.
Homer Street.—Literally classic ground. The house pointed out in connection with "the blind old bard" has long since disappeared.
Idol Lane.—Where are the Missionaries?
Ivy Lane.—This, and Lillypot Lane, and Woodpecker Lane, and Wheatsheaf Yard, and White Thorn Street, all sweetly rural. It is difficult to make a selection.
Lamb's Conduit Street.—Touching description (by the oldest inhabitant) of the young lambs coming to drink at the conduit.
Liquorpond Street.—See Philpot Lane.
Love Lane.—What sort of love? The "love of the turtle?"
[Pg 46]
Lupus Street. } Both dangerous. Maddox Street.Milk Street.—Notice the number of pumps.
Mincing Lane.—Mincing is now mostly done elsewhere, by machinery.
Orchard Street.—The last apple was gathered here about the time that the last coursing match took place in Hare Court.
Paper Buildings.—Wonderfully substantial! Brief paper extensively used in these buildings.
Paradise Street. } Difficult to choose between the two. Peerless Street.Poultry. } Crowded at Christmas. Pudding Lane.
Quality Court.—Most aristocratic.
Riches Court.—Not a house to be had for love or money.
Shepherdess Walk.—Ought to be near Shepherds' Bush.
Trump Street.—Noted for whist.
Type Street.—Leaves a most favourable impression.
World's End Passage.—Finis.
[Pg 43]
A Qualified Guide.
Befogged Pedestrian. "Could you direct me to the river, please?"
Hatless and Dripping Stranger. "Straight ahead. I've just come from it!"
[Pg 45]
FASHIONABLE AND SEASONABLE.
Where to sup al fresco in the hottest weather. The "Whelkome Club"]
"The Round of the Restaurants."—Beef.
[Pg 47]
Sacrifice.
Good Templar. "Tut—t—t—really, Swizzle, it's disgraceful to see a man in your position in this state, after the expense we've incurred and the exertions we've used to put down the liquor traffic!"
Swizzle. "Y' may preash as mush as y' like, gen'l'm'n, bur I can tell y' I've made more persh'nal efforsh to (hic) purrown liquor than any of ve!"
[Pg 48]
A LONDON FOGA fog in London daytime like the night is,
Our fellow-creatures seem like wandering ghosts,
The dull mephitic cloud will bring bronchitis;
You cannon into cabs or fall o'er posts.
The air is full of pestilential vapours,
Innumerable "blacks" come with the smoke;
The thief and rough cut unmolested capers,
In truth a London fog's no sort of joke.
You rise by candle-light or gaslight, swearing
There never was a climate made like ours;
If rashly you go out to take an airing,
The soot-flakes come in black plutonian show'rs.
Your carriage wildly runs into another,
No matter though you go at walking pace;
You meet your dearest friend, or else your brother
And never know him, although face to face.
The hours run on, and night and day commingle,
Unutterable filth is in the air;
You're much depressed, e'en in the fire-side ingle,
The hag dyspepsia seems everywhere.
Your wild disgust in vain you try to bridle,
Mad as March hare or hydrophobic dog,
You feel, in fact, intensely suicidal:
Such things befall us in a London fog!
The most Loyal of Cup-bearers.—A blind man's dog.
[Pg 49]
Not quite what he meant.
Joan (on her annual Spring visit to London). "There, John, I think that would suit me."
Darby (grumblingly). "That, Maria? Why, a pretty figure it would come to!"
Joan. "Ah, John dear, you're always so complimentary! I'll go and ask the price."
[Pg 50]
STARTING A SYNDICATE A Serio-Comic InterludeScene—An Office in the City. Time—After Lunch.
Present—Members of a proposed Syndicate.
First Member. And now, gentlemen, to business. I suppose we may put down the capital at fifty thousand?
Second Mem. Better make it five hundred thousand. Half a million is so much easier to get.
Third Mem.
Comments (0)