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
9 a.m.—Breakfast. First taste of London milk and butter. Analyse, if not in a hurry. Any policeman will show you the nearest chemist.
10 a.m.—To Battersea Park to see carpets beaten. Curious atmospheric effects observable in the clouds of dust and the language of the beaters. Inquire your road of any policeman.
11 a.m.—Take penny steamer up to Westminster Bridge, in time to arrive at Scotland Yard, and inspect the police as they start on their various beats. For any information, inquire of the inspector.
12 p.m.—Hansom cab races. These can be viewed at any hour by standing still at a hundred yards from any cabstand and holding up a shilling.[Pg 76] An amusing sequel may be enjoyed by referring all the drivers to the nearest policeman.
1 p.m.—Observe the beauties of solitude among the flowers in Hyde Park. Lunch at the lodge on curds and whey. Ask the whey of the park keeper.
2 p.m.—Visit the exhibitions of painting on the various scaffoldings in Belgravia. Ask the next policeman if the house painters are Royal Academicians. Note what he says.
3 p.m.—Look at the shops in Bond Street and Regent Street, and purchase the dummy goods disposed of at an awful sacrifice.
4 p.m.—See the stickleback fed at the Westminster Aquarium. If nervous at being alone, ask the policeman in waiting to accompany you over the building.
5 p.m.—Find a friend still in town to give you five o'clock tea in her back drawing-room—the front of the house being shut up.
6 p.m.—Back to the park. Imagine the imposing cavalcades in Rotten Row (now invisible), with the aid of one exercising groom and the two daughters of a riding-master in full procession.
7 p.m.—Wake up the waiters at the Triclinium[Pg 78] Restaurant, and persuade them to warm up dinner for your benefit.
8 p.m.—Perambulate the Strand, and visit the closed doors of the various theatres. Ask the nearest policeman for his opinion on London actors. You will find it as good as a play.
9 p.m.—A Turkish bath may be had in Covent Garden Theatre. Towels or programmes are supplied by the policemen at the doors.
10 p.m.—Converse, before turning in, with the policeman on duty or the fireman in charge of the fire-escape. Much interesting information may be obtained in this way.
11 p.m.—Supper at the cabmen's shelter, or the coffee stall corner of Hyde Park. Get a policeman to take you home to bed.
[Pg 75]
Benevolent Old Gentleman. "Poor little thing! Is it hurt?"
[But it was only the week's washing.
[Pg 77]
Amenities of the road.
Robert. "Now then, four-wheeler, why couldn't you pull up sooner? Didn't you see me 'old up my 'and?"
Cabby (suavely). "Well, constable, I did see a kind of shadder pass acrorst the sky; but my 'orse 'e shied at your feet!"
Q. What is the best sort of cigar to smoke in a hansom?
A. A Cab-ana.
The Wheel of Fortune.—It must have belonged originally to an omnibus, for it is continually "taking up" and "putting down" people.
[Pg 79]
Groom (whose master is fully occupied with unmanageable pair which has just run into rear of omnibus). "Well, anyway, it wasn't the guv'nor's fault."
'Bus Conductor. "No—it was your fault, for letting 'im drive!"
[Pg 80]
"The way we Build now."
Indignant Houseowner (he had heard it was so much cheaper, in the end, to buy your house). "Wh' what's the—what am I!—wha' what do you suppose is the meaning of this, Mr. Scampling!"
Local Builder. "'T' tut, tut! Well, sir, I 'spects some one's been a-leanin' agin it!!"
[Pg 81]
GETTING HIS ANSWER
Important Old Gent (from the country, who thinks the lofty bearing of these London barmaids ought to be "taken down a bit"). "Glass of ale, young woman; and look sharp, please!"
Haughty Blonde (blandly). "Second-class refreshments lower down, sir!!"
[Pg 82]
THE MEAT MARKETLegs were freely walked off, and there was a pressure on ribs owing to the rush of beggars; but knuckles came down, while calves'-heads were looking-up steadily. At Smithfield, there was a rush of bulls, but the transactions were of such a hazardous nature as to appear more like a toss-up than firm business. Any kind of security was resorted to, and the bulls having driven a well-known speculator into a corner, he was glad to get out as he could, though an attempt was made to pin him to his position.
Pigs went on much at the old rates; and briskness could not be obtained, though the coupons were freely offered.
The weather having been favourable to slaughtering, calves have not been brought to the pen—but there is something doing in beef, for the "Last of the Barons" is advertised.
The Original Cab Radius.—A spoke of Phœbus's chariot-wheel.
Motto for the L.G.O.C.—Bus in urbe.
[Pg 83]
A CASE OF MISTAKEN IDENTITY
Old Gentleman (returning from City festivity). "Pleashm'n, where'sh M'sht'r Brown live?"
Constable (recognising him). "Why, dear me, sir, you are Mr. Brown!"
Mr. B. "Aw right! Bu'—where do I live?"!
[Pg 84]
Cheap Jack.
"I will make a present of this genooine gold watch—none of your carrots—to henny lady or gentleman for fifteen shillings an' sixpence. Why am I doin' this? To hencourage trade, that is why I am givin' it away for fourteen shillings an' sixpence. Look at it for yourselves, for fourteen shillings! If yer don't believe it's gold, jump on it?"
[Pg 85]
At the Diamond Jubilee.
First Doubtful Character. "My eye, mate, this is a squash!"
Second D. C. "Squash! Why, s'elp me, if I ain't 'ad my 'and in this cove's pocket for the larst twenty minits, an' can't get it out!"
[Pg 86]
BACK TO TOWNBack to town, and it certes is rapture to stand,
And to hear once again all the roar of the Strand;
I agree with the bard who said, noisy or stilly,
By gaslight or daylight, he loved Piccadilly;
The wanderer's heart with emotion doth swell,
When he sees the broad pavement of pleasant Pall Mall.
Some folks like the City; wherever they range,
Their hearts are still true to the Royal Exchange;
They've beheld alpine summits rise rank upon rank,
But the Matterhorn's nothing compared with the Bank;
And they feel quite rejoiced in the omnibus ride,
As that hearse for the living rolls up through Cheapside.
The mind of a man is expanded by travel,
But give me my house on the Kensington gravel:
The wine of the Frenchman is good, and his grub,
But he isn't devoted to soap and the tub;
Though it may be my prejudice, yet I'll be shot,
If I don't think one Englishman's worth all the lot!
With Germans I've no disposition to quarrel,
Though most of their women resemble a barrel;
And, as for myself, I could never make out
The charms of their schnitzel and raw sauer-kraut;
While everyone owns, since the last mighty war,
Your average Teuton's too bumptious by far.
I think it's been stated before, that you roam
To prove to yourself that there's no place like home,
Though lands that are lovely lie eastward and west,
Our "tight little island," believe me, 's the best;
Through Paris, Berlin, and Vienna you've passed,
To find that there's nothing like London at last!
[Pg 87]
New Assistant (after hair-cutting, to Jones, who has been away for a couple of weeks). "Your 'air is very thin be'ind, sir. Try singeing!"
Jones (after a pause). "Yes, I think I will."
N. A. (after singeing). "Shampoo, sir? Good for the 'air, sir."
Jones. "Thank you. Yes."
N. A. "Your moustaches curled?"
Jones. "Please."
N. A. "May I give you a friction?"
Jones. "Thank you."
N. A. "Will you try some of our——"
Manager (who has just sighted his man, in stage whisper). "You idiot! He's a subscriber!!"
[Pg 88]
Mrs. R. was in an omnibus lately. The streets were so badly paved, she says, that the osculations were most trying to elderly people, though the younger ladies did not seem to object to them.
Signs of a Severe Winter in London
Early departure of swallows from Swallow Street.
Poet's Corner covered with rime.
Wild ducks on the Stock Exchange.
Coals raised.
Cynic's Motto for Kelly's Directory (by the kind permission of the Author of "Dead Men whom I have known.")—Living men whom I don't want to know.
Money Market—Shares, in Ascension Island Company, going up.
City Intelligence.—Should the proposed asylum for decayed bill brokers, jobbers, and others on 'Change be ultimately built, it will probably be at Stock-holm.
[Pg 89]
Convenient.
Lodger (who has been dining). "D' you have any 'bjecks'n t' my 'shcaping up into my rooms shec'nd floor? F'got my la'ch-key!!"
[Pg 90]
Advice to Smokers.—Cut Cavendish.
Fashionable Intelligence.—A new club, composed entirely of aristocratic literary ladies, is in course of formation; it is to be called "The Blue Lights."
NURSERY RHYME FOR THE TIME
Bye baby bunting,
Daddy's gone a hunting
On the Stock Exchange, to catch
Some one who is not his match;
If he has luck,
As well as pluck,
A coach he'll very likely win
To ride his baby bunting in.
The Deaf Man's Paradise.—The Audit Office.
"CASTING ACCOUNTS"
[Pg 91]
Our French Visitors.
(Scene—Royal Exchange.)
First Frenchman (his first time in London). "Tiens, Alphonse! Qui est cet homme-l�?"
Second Frenchman (who, having been here once before is supposed to know all about it). "Chut! Plus bas, mon ami." (Whispers in reverential tone.) "Ce monsieur-l�—c'est le Lor' Maire!"
A very much Over-rated Place.—London, under the County Council.
A Bill Acceptor.—A dead wall.
Site for a Ragged School.—Tattersall's.
[Pg 92]
Links that are no Sort of Use in any Fog.—Shirt-links.
The most Beautiful and Beautifying Tree in London.—The plane.
"Coigns of 'vantage."—�. s. d.
BULL AND BEAR
The "Bread of Idleness."—Loafing.
POEM ON A PUBLIC-HOUSE
Of this establishment how can we speak?
Its cheese is mitey and its ale is weak.
The Aristocrat's Paradise.—Quality Court.
"The Controller of the Mint."—The greengrocer.
Seasonable.—What sort of a bath would a resident of Cornhill probably prefer?
A Cit's bath.
The Tippler's Paradise.—Portsoken Ward.
[Pg 93]
MONEY MARKET
Tightness observable at the opening
A decline at the close
Railways were dull
Bullyin' movements
[Pg 94]
The Stockbroker's Vade Mecum.—A book of good quotations.
Epitaph on a Letter Carrier.—Post obit.
A Man in Advance of his Time.—One who has been knocked into the middle of next week.
The Lord Mayor's Residence.—The munching house.
A NEW TERROR FOR THE UNPUNCTUAL CLERK
[According to the Scientific American they have commenced making in Switzerland phonographic clocks and watches, which pronounce the hour most distinctly.]
The Best School
Comments (0)