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    Punch, or the London Charivari, Volume 99, November 15, 1890
    Punch, or the London Charivari, Volume 99, November 15, 1890
    Punch, or the London Charivari, Volume 99, November 15, 1890
    Ebook91 pages49 minutes

    Punch, or the London Charivari, Volume 99, November 15, 1890

    By Various Various

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    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherArchive Classics
    Release dateNov 27, 2013
    Punch, or the London Charivari, Volume 99, November 15, 1890

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      Book preview

      Punch, or the London Charivari, Volume 99, November 15, 1890 - Various Various

      The Project Gutenberg EBook of Punch, or the London Charivari, Vol. 99,

      November 15, 1890, by Various

      This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with

      almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or

      re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included

      with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.net

      Title: Punch, or the London Charivari, Vol. 99, November 15, 1890

      Author: Various

      Release Date: June 4, 2004 [EBook #12517]

      Language: English

      *** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PUNCH, VOL. 99 ***

      Produced by Malcolm Farmer, Sandra Brown and the Online Distributed

      Proofreading Team.

      PUNCH,

      OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.

      Vol. 99.

      NOVEMBER 15, 1890.

      MR. PUNCH'S PRIZE NOVELS.

      No. VI.—THRUMS ON THE AULD STRING.

      (By J. MUIR KIRRIE, Author of A Door on Thumbs, Eight Bald Fiddlers When a Man Sees Double, My Gentleman Meerschaum, &c.

      [With this story came a glossary of Scotch expressions. We have referred to it as we went along, and found everything quite intelligible. As, however, we have no room to publish the glossary, we can only appeal to the indulgence of our readers. The story itself was written in a very clear, legible hand, and was enclosed in a wrapper labelled, Arcadia Mixture. Strength and Aroma combined. Sold in Six-shilling cases. Special terms for Southrons. Liberal allowance for returned empties.]

      CHAPTER I.

      We were all sitting on the pig-sty at T'NOWHEAD'S Farm. A pig-sty is not, perhaps, a strictly eligible seat, but there were special reasons, of which you shall hear something later, for sitting on this particular pig-sty.

      The old sow was within, extended at full length. Occasionally she grunted approval of what was said, but, beyond that, she seemed to show but a faint interest in the proceedings. She had been a witness of similar gatherings for some years, and, to tell the truth, they had begun to bore her, but, on the whole, I am not prepared to deny that her appreciation was an intelligent one. Behind us was the brae. Ah, that brae! Do you remember how the child you once were sat in the brae, spinning the peerie, and hunkering at I-dree I-dree I droppit-it? Do you remember that? Do you even know what I mean? Life is like that. When we are children the bread is thick, and the butter is thin; as we grow to be lads and lassies, the bread dwindles, and the butter increases; but the old men and women who totter about the commonty, how shall they munch when their teeth are gone? That's the question. I'm a Dominie. What!—no answer? Go to the bottom of the class, all of you.

      CHAPTER II.

      As I said, we were all on the pig-sty. Of the habitués I scarcely need to speak to you, since you must know their names, even if you fail to pronounce them. But there was a stranger amongst us, a stranger who, it was said, had come from London. Yesterday when I went ben the house I found him sitting with JESS; to-day, he too, was sitting with us on the pig-sty. There were tales told about him, that he wrote for papers in London, and stuffed his vases and his pillows with money, but TAMMAS HAGGART only shook his head at what he called such auld fowks' yeppins, and evidently didn't believe a single word. Now TAMMAS, you must know, was our humorist. It was not without difficulty that TAMMAS had attained to this position, and he was resolved to keep it. Possibly he scented in the stranger a rival humorist whom he would have to crush. At any rate, his greeting was not marked with the usual genial cordiality characteristic of Scotch weavers, and many were the anxious looks exchanged amongst us, as we watched the preparations for the impending conflict.

      CHAPTER III.

      After TAMMAS had finished boring half-a-dozen holes in the old sow with his sarcastic eye, he looked up, and addressed HENDRY MCQUMPHA.

      HENDRY, he said, ye ken I'm a humorist, div ye no?

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