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    Punch, or the London Charivari, Vol. 98, February 22nd, 1890
    Punch, or the London Charivari, Vol. 98, February 22nd, 1890
    Punch, or the London Charivari, Vol. 98, February 22nd, 1890
    Ebook85 pages42 minutes

    Punch, or the London Charivari, Vol. 98, February 22nd, 1890

    By Various Various

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    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherArchive Classics
    Release dateNov 27, 2013
    Punch, or the London Charivari, Vol. 98, February 22nd, 1890

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      Book preview

      Punch, or the London Charivari, Vol. 98, February 22nd, 1890 - Various Various

      The Project Gutenberg EBook of Punch, or the London Charivari, Vol. 98,

      February 22nd, 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.org

      Title: Punch, or the London Charivari, Vol. 98, February 22nd, 1890

      Author: Various

      Release Date: September 18, 2009 [EBook #30018]

      Language: English

      *** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PUNCH ***

      Produced by Ritu Aggarwal, Malcolm Farmer and the Online

      Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net

      PUNCH,

      OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.

      VOL. XCVIII.

      February 22, 1890.

      THE SCIENTIFIC VOLUNTEER.

      If ever I have to choose.... I shall, without hesitation, shoulder my rifle with the Orangeman.—See Professor Tyndall's Reply to Sir W. V. Harcourt. "Times," Feb. 13, 1890.

      'ARRY ON EQUALITY.

      Dear Charlie,—Bin down as a dab with that dashed heppydemick, dear boy.

      I 'ave bloomin' nigh sneezed my poor head orf. You know that there specie of toy

      Wot they call cup-and-ball! That's me, Charlie! My back seemed to open and shut,

      As the grippe-demon danced on my innards, and played pitch-and-toss with my nut.

      Hinfluenza be blowed! It licks hague and cholera rolled into one.

      The Sawbones have give it that name, I'm aware, but of course that's their fun.

      I've 'ad colds in the head by the hunderd, but this weren't no cold, leastways mine.

      Howsomever, I'm jest coming round a bit, thanks to warm slops and QyNine.

      Took to reading, I did as I mended; that's mostly a practice with me.

      When I'm down on my back that's the time for a turn at my dear old D. T.

      A party named Robert Buchanan, as always appears on the job,

      Was a slating a chappie called Huxley. Thinks I, I'll take stock of friend Bob.

      Well, he ain't much account, that's a moral; a ramblinger Rad never wos.

      Old Huxley's wuth ten on him, Charlie, though he's rather huppish and poz.

      Are men really born free and equal? Ah! that's wot they're harguing hout.

      Bob B., he says Yus; Huxley, No; and Bob's wrong, there's no manner of doubt.

      Free and equal? Oh, Nebuchadnezzar! how can they talk sech tommy-rot?

      Might as well say as Fiz and Four-Arf should be equally fourpence a pot.

      Nice hidea, but taint so, that's the wust on it. There's where these dreamers go wrong.

      Ought's nothink, and that as is, is; all the rest isn't wuth a old Song.

      Bad as Buggins, the Radical Cobbler, these mugs are. Sez Buggins, sez he,

      Wos it Nature give Mudford his millions, and three bob a day to poor me?

      Not a bit on it. Nature's a mother, and meant all her gifts for us all.

      It's a Law as gives Mudford his Castle, and leaves me a poor Cobbler's Stall.

      All I've got to say, Charlie, is this. If so be Nature meant all that there,

      She must be a fair J. as a mater. I've bin bested out of my share.

      So has Buggins, and nine out o' ten on us. If the few nobble the quids

      Spite of Nature, wy Nature's a noodle as cannot purtect her own kids.

      Poor Buggins! He's nuts upon Henery George, William Morris, and such.

      He's got a white face, and is humpy, and lives in a sort of a hutch

      Smellin' strong of wax-end and stale dubbin. Him born free and

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