Punch, or the London Charivari, Volume 1, Complete eBook

This eBook from the Gutenberg Project consists of approximately 1,359 pages of information about Punch, or the London Charivari, Volume 1, Complete.

Looking as we do at the above-bridge navy, in a large and national light, we are not inclined to go into critical details, such as are to be met with, passim, in the shrewd and amusing work of “The Passenger on board the Bachelor.”  There may be something in the objection, that there is no getting comfortably into one of these boats when one desires to go by it.  It may be true, that a boy’s neglecting “to hold” sufficiently “hard,” may keep the steamer vibrating and Sliding about, within a yard of the pier, without approaching it.  But these are small considerations, and we are not sure that the necessity of keeping a sharp look out, and jumping aboard at precisely the right time, does not keep up that national ingenuity which is not the least valuable part of the English character.  In the same light are we disposed to regard the occasional running aground of these boats, which, at all events, is a fine practical lesson of patience to the passengers.  The collisions are not so much to our taste, and these, we think, though useful to a certain extent for inculcating caution, should be resorted to as rarely as possible.

We have not gone into the system of signals and “hand motions,” if we may be allowed to use a legal term, by which the whole of this navy is regulated; but these, and other details, may, perhaps, be the subject of some future article for we are partial to

[Illustration:  TAKING IT EASY.]

* * * * *

CORRESPONDENCE.

Newcastle-street, July —­, 1841.

MR. PUNCH,—­Little did I think wen i’ve bin a gaping and starin’ at you in the streats, that i shud ever happli to you for gustice.  Isntet a shame that peeple puts advurtusmints in the papers for a howsmaid for a lark, as it puts all the poor survents out of plaice into a dredfool situashun.

As i alwuss gets a peep at the paper on the landin’ as i takes it up for breckfus, i was unfoughtunite enuf to see a para—­thingem-me-bob—­for a howsmaid, wanted in a nobbleman’s fameli.  On course, a young woman has a rite to better hursef if she can; so I makes up my mind at wunce—­has i oney has sicks pouns a ear, and finds my own t and shuggar—­i makes up my mind to arsk for a day out; which, has the cold mutting was jest enuf for mastur and missus without me, was grarnted me.  I soon clears up the kitshun, and goes up stares to clean mysef.  I puts on my silk gronin-napple gownd, and my lase pillowrin, likewise my himitashun vermin tippit, (give me by my cussen Harry, who keeps kumpany with me on hot-dinner days), also my tuskin bonnit, parrersole, and blacbag; and i takes mysef orf to South-street, but what was my felines, wen, on wringing the belle, a boy anser’d the daw, with two roes of brarse beeds down his jacket.

“Can i speek a word with the futman?” says i, in my ingaugingist manner.

“i’m futman,” says he.

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Punch, or the London Charivari, Volume 1, Complete from Project Gutenberg. Public domain.
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