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.

Mick.—­You did, your Rivirence.

Father Frank.—­Well, that’s settled:—­but then St. Pether will say—­“Father Frank,” says he, “you’re a proper man; but how did your flock behave to you—­did they pay you your dues regularly?” Ah! good Christians, how shall I answer that question?  Put it in my power to say something good of you:  don’t be ashamed to come up and pay your priest’s dues.  Come,—­make a lane there, and let ye all come up with conthrite hearts and open hands.  Tim Delaney!—­make way for Tim:—­how much will you give, Tim?

Tim.—­I’ll not be worse than another, your Riverence.  I’ll give a crown.

Father Frank.—­Thank you, Timothy:  the dacent drop is in you.  Keep a lane, there!—­any of ye that hasn’t a crown, or half-a-crown, don’t be bashful of coming up with your hog or your testher.[6]

    [6] A shilling or a sixpence.

And thus Father Frank went on encouraging and wheedling his flock to pay up his dues, until he had gone through his entire congregation, when I left the chapel, highly amused at the characteristic scene I had witnessed.


* * * * *


Our gallant Sibthorp was lately invited by a friend to accompany him in a pleasure trip in his yacht to Cowes.  “No!” exclaimed Sib.; “you don’t catch me venturing near Cowes.”  “And why not?” inquired his friend.  “Because I was never vaccinated,” replied the hirsute hero.

* * * * *


Once upon a time—­says an old Italian novelist—­a horse fell, as in a fit, with his rider.  The people, running from all sides, gathered about the steed, and many and opposite were the opinions of the sudden malady of the animal; as many the prescriptions tendered for his recovery.  At length, a great hubbub arose among the mob; and a fellow, with the brass of a merryandrew, and the gravity of a quack-doctor, pressed through the throng, and approached the beast.  Suddenly there was silence.  It was plain to the vulgar that the solemn new-comer had brought with him some exquisite specific:  it was evident, from the grave self-complacency of the stranger, that with a glance, he had detected the cause of sickness in the horse,—­and that, in a few seconds, the prostrate animal, revivified by the cunning of the sage, would be up, and once more curvetting and caracoling.  The master of the steed eyed the stranger with an affectionate anxiety; the mob were awed into breathless expectation.  The wise man shook his head, put his cane to his nose, and proceeded to open his mouth.  It was plain he was about to speak.  Every ear throbbed and gaped to catch the golden syllables.  At length the doctor did speak:  for casting about him a look of the profoundest knowledge, and pointing to the steed, he said, in a deep, solemn whisper,—­“Let the horse alone!” Saying this, the doctor vanished!

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