How’s your Mother.—This affectionate inquiry is generally coupled with
Has she Sold her Mangle.—“Mangling done here” is an announcement which meets the eye in several quarters of this metropolis; and when the last census was taken by the author of the “Lights and Shadows of London Life,” the important discovery was made that this branch of business is commonly carried on by old ladies. The importance (especially to the landlord) of the answer to this query is at once perceivable.
We scarcely expect a monument to be raised to PUNCH for these discoveries; though if we had our deserts—but verbum sap.
* * * * *
SONGS FOR THE SENTIMENTAL.—No. 13.
Yes! we have said the word adieu!
A blight has fallen on my soul!
And bliss, that angels never knew,
Is torn from me, by fate’s control!
And yet the tear I shed at parting,
Was “all my eye and Betty Martin!”
And thou hast sworn that never
Thy heart shall bow to passion’s spell;
But ever sadly ponder o’er
The anguish of our last farewell!
Yet, as you still are in your teens—
I say, “tell that to the Marines!”
And still perchance thy faithful heart
May pine, and break, when I am gone!
While bitter tears, unbidden, start,
As oft thou musest—sad and lone!
I’ve read such things in many a tale—
But yet it’s “very like a whale!”
* * * * *
PEN AND PALETTE PORTRAITS.
(TAKEN FROM THE FRENCH.)
BY ALPHONSE LECOURT.
Paris, Passage de l’Opera, Escalier B. au 3eme.
MY DEAR PUNCH,
I salute you with reverence—I embrace you with affection—I thank you with devout gratitude, for the many delightful moments I have enjoyed in your society. I regularly read your “London Charivari:” it is magnificent—superb! What wit—what agacerie—what exquisite badinage is contained in every line of it! You are the veritable monarch of English humour. Hail, then, great fun-ambule, PUNCH THE FIRST! Long may you live, to flourish your invincible baton, and to increase the number of your laughing subjects. Your “Physiology of the Medical Student” has been translated, and the avidity with which it is read here has suggested to me the idea that sketches of French character might be equally popular amongst English readers. With this hope I send yon the commencement of a Physiological and Pictorial Portrait of “THE LOVER.” I have chosen him for my leading character, because his madness will be understood by the whole world. Love, mon cher ami, is not a local passion, it grows everywhere like—but I am anticipating my subject, which I now commit to your hands.
With sentiments of the profoundest respect and esteem,