Punch, or the London Charivari, Volume 102, January 9, 1892 By: Various
Punch, or the London Charivari, Volume 102, January 9, 1892 is a delightful collection of satirical and humorous content that was originally published in the late 19th century. The publication features witty illustrations, clever editorial cartoons, and sharp commentary on various social and political issues of the time. The writing is sharp and witty, offering a unique insight into the concerns and attitudes of Victorian society. The humor is clever and often biting, poking fun at the follies and foibles of the era. The cartoons are wonderfully illustrated, adding an extra layer of humor to the already sharp wit of the writers. While some of the references may be dated for modern readers, Punch, or the London Charivari, Volume 102, January 9, 1892 remains an entertaining read for those interested in historical satire and humor. It offers a fascinating glimpse into the past and showcases the enduring appeal of clever wit and sharp satire. First Page: PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. VOL. 102. January 9, 1892. ON A NEW YEARLING. ( SECOND WEEK. ) [Illustration: Second Week. Little 1892 grows rapidly, and begins to look about him.] My fire was low; my bills were high; My sip of punch was in its ladle; The clarion chimes were in the sky; The nascent year was in its cradle. In sober prose to tell my tale, 'Twas New Year's E'en, when, blind to danger, All older fashioned nurses hail With joy "another little stranger." The glass was in my hand but, wait, Methought, awhile! 'Tis early toasting With pæans too precipitate A baby scarce an outline boasting: One week at least of life must flit For me to match it with its brothers I'll wager, like most infants, it Is wholly different from others. He frolics, latest of the lot, A family prolific reckoned; He occupies his tiny cot, The eighteen hundred ninety second! The pretty darling, gently nursed Of course, he lies, and fondly petted! The eighteen hundred ninety first Is not, I fancy, much regretted. You call him "fine" he's great in size, And "promising" there issue from his Tough larynx quite stentorian cries; Such notes are haply notes of promise. Look out for squalls, I tell you; soft And dove like atoms more engage us; Your fin de siècle child is oft Loud, brazen, grasping, and rampageous... Continue reading book >>

Punch, or the London Charivari, Volume 102, January 9, 1892 By: Various

Punch, or the London Charivari, Volume 102, January 9, 1892 is a delightful collection of satirical and humorous content that was originally published in the late 19th century. The publication features witty illustrations, clever editorial cartoons, and sharp commentary on various social and political issues of the time.

The writing is sharp and witty, offering a unique insight into the concerns and attitudes of Victorian society. The humor is clever and often biting, poking fun at the follies and foibles of the era. The cartoons are wonderfully illustrated, adding an extra layer of humor to the already sharp wit of the writers.

While some of the references may be dated for modern readers, Punch, or the London Charivari, Volume 102, January 9, 1892 remains an entertaining read for those interested in historical satire and humor. It offers a fascinating glimpse into the past and showcases the enduring appeal of clever wit and sharp satire.

First Page:

PUNCH,

OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.

VOL. 102.

January 9, 1892.

ON A NEW YEARLING.

( SECOND WEEK. )

[Illustration: Second Week. Little 1892 grows rapidly, and begins to look about him.]

My fire was low; my bills were high; My sip of punch was in its ladle; The clarion chimes were in the sky; The nascent year was in its cradle. In sober prose to tell my tale, 'Twas New Year's E'en, when, blind to danger, All older fashioned nurses hail With joy "another little stranger."

The glass was in my hand but, wait, Methought, awhile! 'Tis early toasting With pæans too precipitate A baby scarce an outline boasting: One week at least of life must flit For me to match it with its brothers I'll wager, like most infants, it Is wholly different from others.

He frolics, latest of the lot, A family prolific reckoned; He occupies his tiny cot, The eighteen hundred ninety second! The pretty darling, gently nursed Of course, he lies, and fondly petted! The eighteen hundred ninety first Is not, I fancy, much regretted.

You call him "fine" he's great in size, And "promising" there issue from his Tough larynx quite stentorian cries; Such notes are haply notes of promise. Look out for squalls, I tell you; soft And dove like atoms more engage us; Your fin de siècle child is oft Loud, brazen, grasping, and rampageous... Continue reading book >>

Genres for this book
Essay/Short nonfiction
Non-fiction

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