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Punch, or the London Charivari, Vol. 93. September 17, 1887   By:

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Punch, or the London Charivari, Vol. 93. September 17, 1887 is a collection of satirical and humorous pieces that provide a fascinating glimpse into the social and cultural climate of late 19th century London. The diverse range of content, including witty cartoons, clever articles, and clever poetry, make for an engaging read that is both entertaining and thought-provoking.

The writing is sharp and witty, with a keen eye for satire that takes aim at various aspects of society, politics, and everyday life. The illustrations are equally impressive, adding another layer of humor and insight to the publication.

Overall, Punch, or the London Charivari, Vol. 93. September 17, 1887 is a delightful read that offers a unique perspective on the world of the Victorian era. Readers with an interest in history, humor, or social commentary will find much to enjoy in this engaging collection.

First Page:

PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI

VOLUME 93.

SEPTEMBER 17, 1887.

OUR IGNOBLE SELVES.

( Lament by a Reader of "Letters to the Papers." )

[Illustration]

OH! bless us and save us! Like men to behave us We Britons once held it our glory; Now Party bids fair to befool and enslave us. We're lost between Liberal and Tory! Some quidnunc inditeth a letter to GLADSTONE, The style of it, "Stand and deliver!" Its speech may be rude, and its tone quite a cad's tone, Its logic may make a man shiver. Au contraire it may be most lucid and modest, In taste and in pertinence equal (Though such a conjunction would be of the oddest), But what, anyhow, is the sequel? Rad papers all cry, "We've once more before us An instance of folly inrushing." Whilst all the Conservative Journals in chorus Declare "it is perfectly crushing!" "Little Pedlington's" snubbed by the Liberal Press, And urged such fool tricks to abandon. Cry Tories, "I guess the Old Man's in a mess, He hasn't a leg left to stand on!" Oh! save us and bless us! The shirt of old Nessus, Was not such a snare to the hero, As poisonous faction. Crass fools we confess us, With sense and with spirit at zero. If thus we comport us like blind sprawling kittens, Or pitiful partisan poodles, 'Twill prove Party makes e'en of freeminded Britons, A race of incontinent noodles!

"TO TEAPOT BAY AND BACK... Continue reading book >>


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