Punch, Volume 108

Front Cover
Henry Mayhew, Mark Lemon, Tom Taylor, Shirley Brooks, Francis Cowley Burnand, Owen Seaman
Punch Publications Limited, 1895 - English wit and humor
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Page 159 - Is not a patron, my lord, one who looks with unconcern on a man struggling for life in the water, and when he has reached ground encumbers him with help? The notice which you have been pleased to take of my labours, had it been early, had been kind; but it has been delayed till I am indifferent, and cannot enjoy it; till I am solitary, and •cannot impart it; till I am known, and do not want it.
Page 165 - Horace at Cambridge. Crown 8vo, cloth, gilt top, y. 6d. net. "A delightful little book. ... To every University man, and particularly, of course, to Cambridge men, this book will be a rare treat. But in virtue of its humour, its extreme and felicitous dexterity of workmanship both in rhyme and metre, and the aptness of its allusions, it will appeal to a far wider public.
Page 93 - The milk — is needed. I mourn, yet grimly chuckle, too, When think that, not I, but you, Should be a fixture ; Not I, but you, must sadly sip, With utterly unwilling lip, Some awful mixture. Not I, but you, must now obey What dictatorial doctors say, So interfering ! I might, perhaps, be less averse To some attractive youthful nurse, And find her cheering. In weather such as we have had Your fate may not have been so bad ; In bed one lingers When blizzards bite the bluish nose. When cold half numbs...
Page 102 - Brazen bells! What a tale of terror, now, their turbulency tells! In the startled ear of night How they scream out their affright! Too much horrified to speak, They can only shriek, shriek, Out of tune, In a clamorous appealing to the mercy of the fire...
Page 99 - Ostrich, for its putting its head in the mud, and thinking nobody sees it — " " And like a Phoenix, for its power of springing from the ashes of its faults and vices, and soaring up anew into the sky ! " said Martin.
Page 131 - There my retreat the best companions grace, Chiefs out of war, and statesmen out of place: There St. John mingles with my friendly bowl The feast of reason and the flow of soul...
Page 147 - Orpheus could lead the savage race, And trees uprooted left their place Sequacious of the lyre : But bright Cecilia raised the wonder higher: When to her organ vocal breath was given, An angel heard, and straight appeared — Mistaking earth for heaven...
Page 102 - How it swells, How it dwells On the future ! How it tells Of the rapture that impels To the swinging and the ringing Of the bells, bells, bells, Of the bells, bells, bells, bells, Bells, bells, bells— To the rhyming and the chiming of the bells ! Hear the loud alarum bells — Brazen bells ! What a tale of terror, now, their turbulency tells!
Page 287 - THE DAY IS DONE. THE day is done, and the darkness Falls from the wings of Night, As a feather is wafted downward From an eagle in his flight. I see the lights of the village Gleam through the rain and the mist, And a feeling of sadness comes o'er me, That my soul cannot resist : A feeling of sadness and longing, That is not akin to pain, And resembles sorrow only...
Page 58 - What exactly this title signified I suppose no two etymologists will ever agree. But we can learn clearly enough from the fashion-plates and caricatures of the day what the Mashers were in outward semblance, from the lampoons what was their mode of life. Unlike the Dandies of the Georgian era they made no pretence to any qualities of the intellect, and, wholly contemptuous of the aesthetes, recognised no art save the art of dress.

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