Mr. Punch in Bohemia, Various [most inspirational books .TXT] 📗
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Second Painter. "Did she say anything about mine?"
First Painter. "Oh, she liked yours!"
[Pg 52]
"I say, old man, I've invented a new drink. Big success! Come and try it."
"What's it made of?"
"Well, it's something like the ordinary whisky and soda, but you put more whisky in it!"
[Pg 53]
Sylvia. "I wonder whether he'll be a soldier or a sailor?"
Mamma. "Wouldn't you like him to be an artist, like papa?"
Sylvia. "Oh, one in the family's quite enough!"
[Pg 54]
"The Bitter End."—The last half inch of a halfpenny cigar.
The worst possible Name for an Author.—Dr. Dozy.
Why oughtn't a boot and shoemaker to be trusted?
Because he's a slippery customer.
The Race for Wealth.—Jews.
Basso Profondo.—A deep draught of bitter beer.
Exercise for City Clerks.—A run on a Bank.
Passing the Time.—Going by a clock.
[Pg 55]
[Pg 56]
LITERARY NOTESA well-known diner-out has, we learn, collected his reminiscences, and would be glad to hear from some obliging gentleman or gentlemen who would "earnestly request" him to publish them.
We should add that no names would be mentioned, the preface merely opening as follows:—-
"Although these stray gleanings of past years are of but ephemeral value, and though they were collected with no thought of publication, the writer at the earnest request of a friend" (or "many friends," if more than one) "has reluctantly consented to give his scattered reminiscences to the world."
The following volumes in "The Biter Bit" series are announced as shortly to appear:—
"The Fighter Fit; or practical hints on pugilistic training."
"The Lighter Lit: a treatise on the illumination of Thames barges."
"The Slighter Slit: or a new and economical method of cutting out."
"The Tighter Tit: studies in the comparative inebriation of birds."
[Pg 57] BILLIARD NOTES BY DUMB-CRAMBO[Pg 58]
"But it is impossible for you to see the President. What do you want to see him for?"
"I want to show him exactly where I want my picture hung."
[Pg 59]
Millionaire. "Yes; I'm awful partial to picters. Why, bless yer, I've got cellars full of 'em!"
[Pg 60]
Infuriated Outsider. "R-r-r-rejected, sir!—Fwanospace, sir!" (With withering emphasis.) "'Want—of—space—sir!!"
[Pg 61]
"Look here, Schlumpenhagen, you must help us at our smoking concert. You play the flute, don't you?"
"Not ven dere ish anypotty apout."
"How's that?"
"Dey von't let me!"
[Pg 62]
ROCHEFOUCAULDIANAThere is no sympathy in England so universally felt, so largely expressed, as for a person who is likely to catch cold.
When a person loses his reputation, the very last place where he goes to look for it is the place where he has lost it.
No gift so fatal as that of singing. The principal question asked, upon insuring a man's life, should be, "Do you sing a good song?"
Many of us are led by our vices, but a great many more of us follow them without any leading at all.
To show how deceptive are appearances, more gentlemen are mistaken for waiters, than waiters for gentlemen.
To a retired tradesman there can be no greater convenience than that of having a "short sight." In truth, wealth rarely improves the vision. Poverty, on the contrary, strengthens it. A man, when he is poor, is able to discover objects at the[Pg 64] greatest distance with the naked eye, which he could not see, though standing close to his elbow, when he was rich.
If you wish to set a room full of silent people off talking, get some one to sing a song.
The bore is happy enough in boring others, but is never so miserable as when left alone, when there is no one but himself to bore.
The contradictions of this life are wonderful. Many a man, who hasn't the courage to say "no," never misses taking a shower-bath every morning of his life.
If you wish to borrow �5 ask for �10.
WHAT BROWN SAID Scene—Hall of the Elysium Club
Enter Smith, F.R.S., meeting Brown, Q.C.
Smith. Raw day, eh?
Brown. Very raw. Glad when it's done.
[Exit Brown, Q.C. Exit Smith, F.R.S., into smoking-room, where he tells a good thing that Brown said.
[Pg 63]
Miss Jones. "How came you to think of the subject, Mr. de Brush?"
Eccentric Artist. "Oh, I have had it in my head for years!"
Miss Jones. "How wonderful! What did the papers say?"
Eccentric Artist. "Said it was full of 'atmosphere,' and suggested 'space.'"]
[Pg 65]
Artist (who thinks he has found a good model for his Touchstone). "Have you any sense of humour, Mr. Bingles?"
Model. "Thank y' sir, no, sir, thank y'. I enj'ys pretty good 'ealth, sir, thank y' sir!"
[Pg 66]
THE PERILS OF A CONVERSAZIONEMiss Fillip (to gentleman whose name she did not catch when introduced). Have you read A Modern Heliogabolus?
He. Yes, I have.
Miss F. All through?
He. Yes, from beginning to end.
Miss F. Dear me! I wonder you're alive! How did you manage to get through it?
He (diffidently). Unfortunately, I wrote it.
[Miss F. catches a distant friend's eye.
The Sound Sleeper's Paradise.—Snoring.
Patent Night-Lights.—Stars.
Epitaph on a Champion Billiard Player.—"Taking his long rest."
Toned Paper.—Sheets of music.
Item on a Menu of Literary Pabulum.—"Shakspeare and Bacon."
Race Glasses.—Champagne.
The Maid of the Mill.—A lady boxer.
[Pg 67]
(Artistic-minded Youth in midst of a fierce harangue from his father, who is growing hotter and redder). "By Jove, that's a fine bit of colour, if you like!"
[Pg 68]
"What an ass old Brown is!
"Oh, I don't know. He's got far more brains than appear on the surface."
[Pg 69]
Art-Master (who has sent for a cab, pointing to horse). "What do you call that?"
Cabby. "An 'orse, sir."
Art-Master. "A horse! Rub it out, and do it again!"
[Pg 70]
A PARCEL OF PROVERBS, &c. COMPLETEDTake time by the forelock—to have his hair cut.
Follow your leader—in your daily paper.
The proof of the pudding is in the eating—a great deal of it.
Never look a gift-horse in the mouth—lest you should find false teeth.
The hare with many friends—was eaten at last.
A stitch in time saves nine—or more naughty words, when a button comes off while you are dressing in a great hurry for dinner.
One man's meat is another man's poison—when badly cooked.
Don't count your chickens before they are hatched—by the patent incubator.
Love is blind—and unwilling to submit to an operation.
First catch your hare—then cook it with rich gravy.
Nil Desperandum—Percy Vere.
[Pg 71]
Scene: Fashionable Auction Rooms. A Picture Sale.—
Amateur Collector (after taking advice of Expert No. 1, addresses Expert No. 2). "What do you think of the picture? I am advised to buy it. Is it not a fine Titian?"
Expert No. 2 (wishing to please both parties). "I don't think you can go far wrong, for anyhow, if it isn't a Titian it's a repe-tition."
[Pg 72]
ANOTHER PARCEL OF PROVERBSIf the cap fits, wear it—out.
Six of one, and half-a-dozen of the other—make exactly twelve.
None so deaf as those who won't hear—hear! hear!
Faint heart never won fair lady—nor dark one either.
Civility costs nothing—nay, is something to your credit.
The best of friends must part—their hair.
Any port in a storm—but old port preferred.
One good turn deserves another—in waltzing.
Youth at the prow and pleasure at the helm—very sea-sick.
"Leading Strings."—Those of a first violin in an orchestra.
Tobacco Stoppers.—Men who stay to smoke.
Smoker's Proverb.—It's an ill weed that blows nobody any good.
A Tidy Drink.—Neat brandy.
[Pg 73]
Amateur "Minimus Poet" (who has called at the office twice a week for three months). "Could you use a little poem of mine?"
Editor (ruthlessly determined that this shall be his final visit). "Oh, I think so. There are two or three broken panes of glass, and a hole in the skylight. How large is it?"
[Pg 74]
Motto for a Sub-Editor.—"Aut scissors, aut nullus."
To find the value of a Cook.—Divide the services rendered by the wages paid; deduct the kitchen stuff, subtract the cold meat by finding how often three policemen will go into one area, and the quotient will help you to the result.
To find the value of a Friend.—Ask him to put his name to a bill.
To find the value of Time.—Travel by a Bayswater omnibus.
To find the value of Eau de Cologne.—Walk into Smithfield market.
To find the value of Patience.—Consult Bradshaw's Guide to ascertain the time of starting of a railway train.
Note by a Social Cynic.—They may abolish the "push" stroke at billiards, but they'll never do so in society.
From our own Irrepressible One (still dodging custody).—Q. Why is a daily paper like a lamb? A. Because it is always folded.
[Pg 75]
Hostess (to new Curate). "We seem to be talking of nothing but horses, Mr. Soothern. Are you much of a sportsman?"
Curate. "Really, Lady Betty, I don't think I ought to say that I am. I used to collect butterflies; but I have to give up even that now!"
[Pg 76]
"The gods confound thee! Dost thou hold there still?"
Antony and Cleopatra, Act II., Sc. 5.
"Still Waters."—Whiskies.
Art Criticism.—In too many pictures the colour is medi-ocre.
The Advertiser's Paradise.—Puffin Island.
A Musical Burglar.—One who breaks into a tune.
[Pg 77]
Proprietor of Travelling Menagerie. "Are you used to looking after horses and other animals?"
Applicant for Job. "Yessir. Been used to 'orses all my life."
P. O. T. M. "What steps would you take if a lion got loose?"
A. F. J. "Good long 'uns, mister!"
May be Heard Everywhere.—"Songs without words"—a remarkable performance; but perhaps a still more wonderful feat is playing upon words.
[Pg 78]
SUBSTITUTES FOR PROFANE SWEARING(Adapted to various Sorts and Conditions of Men)
Lawyer. Tax my bill.
Doctor. Dash my draughts.
Soldier. Snap my stock.
Parson. Starch my surplice.
Bricklayer. I'll be plastered.
Bricklayer's Labourer. Chop my hod.
Carpenter. Saw me.
Plumber and Glazier. Solder my pipes. Smash my panes.
Painter. I'm daubed.
Brewer. I'm mashed.
Engineer. Burst my boiler.
Stoker. Souse
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