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PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.

VOL. 1.



FOR THE WEEK ENDING SEPTEMBER 12, 1841.

* * * * *


THE HEIR OF APPLEBITE.

CHAPTER III.

[Illustration: A]"After the ceremony, the happy pair set off for
Brighton."

There is something peculiarly pleasing in the above paragraph. The
imagination instantly conjures up an elegant yellow-bodied chariot, lined
with pearl drab, and a sandwich basket. In one corner sits a fair and
blushing creature partially arrayed in the garments of a bride, their
spotless character diversified with some few articles of a darker hue,
resembling, in fact, the liquid matrimony of port and sherry; her delicate
hands have been denuded of their gloves, exhibiting to the world the
glittering emblem of her endless hopes. In the other, a smiling piece of
four-and-twenty humanity is reclining, gazing upon the beautiful treasure,
which has that morning cost him about six pounds five shillings, in the
shape of licence and fees. He too has deprived himself of the sunniest
portions of his wardrobe, and has softened the glare of his white ducks,
and the gloss of his blue coat, by the application of a drab waistcoat.
But why indulge in speculative dreams when we have realities to detail!

Agamemnon Collumpsion Applebite and his beauteous Juliana Theresa (late
Waddledot), for three days, experienced that -

"Love is heaven, and heaven is love."

His imaginary dinner-party became a reality, and the delicate attentions
which he paid to his invisible guest rendered his Juliana Theresa's
life - as she exquisitely expressed it -

"A something without a name, but to which nothing was wanting."

But even honey will cloy; and that sweetest of all moons, the Apian one,
would sometimes be better for a change. Juliana passed the greater portion
of the day on the sofa, in the companionship of that aromatic author, Sir
Edward; or sauntered (listlessly hanging on Collumpsion's arm) up and down
the Steine, or the no less diversified Chain-pier. Agamemnon felt that at
home at least he ought to be happy, and, therefore, he hung his legs over
the balcony and whistled or warbled (he had a remarkably fine D) Moore's
ballad of -

"Believe me, if all those endearing young charms;"

or took the silver out of the left-hand pocket of his trousers, and placed
it in the right-hand receptacle of the same garment. Nevertheless, he was
continually detecting himself yawning or dozing, as though "the idol of
his existence" was a chimera, and not Mrs. Applebite.

The time at length arrived for their return to town, and, to judge from
the pleasure depicted in the countenances of the happy pair, the
contemplated intrusion of the world on their family circle was anything
but disagreeable. Old John, under the able generalship of Mrs. Waddledot,
had made every requisite preparation for their reception. Enamelled cards,
superscribed with the names of Mr. and Mrs. Applebite, and united together
with a silver cord tied in a true lover's knot, had been duly enclosed in
an envelope of lace-work, secured with a silver dove, flying away with a
square piece of silver toast. In company with a very unsatisfactory bit of
exceedingly rich cake, this glossy missive was despatched to the whole of
the Applebite and Waddledot connexion, only excepting the eighteen
daughters who Mrs. Waddledot had reason to believe would not return her
visit.

The meeting of the young wife and the wife's mother was touching in the
extreme. They rushed into each other's arms, and indulged in plentiful
showers of "nature's dew."

"Welcome! welcome _home_, my dear Juliana!" exclaimed the doting mother.
"It's the first time, Mr. A., that she ever left me since she was 16, for
so long a period. I have had all the beds aired, and all the chairs
uncovered. She'll be a treasure to you, Mr. A., for a more tractable
creature was never vaccinated;" and here the mother overcame the orator,
and she wept again.

"My dear mother," said Agamemnon, "I have already had many reasons to be
grateful for my happy fortune. Don't you think she is browner than when we
left town?"

"Much, much!" sobbed the mother; "but the change is for the better."

"I'm glad you think so, for Aggy is of the same opinion," lisped the
beautiful ex-Waddledot. "Tell ma' the pretty metaphor you indulged in
yesterday, Aggy."

"Why, I merely remarked," replied Collumpsion, blushing, "that I was
pleased to see the horticultural beauties of her cheek superseded by such
an exquisite marine painting. It's nothing of itself, but Juley's foolish
fondness called it witty."

The arrival of the single sister of Mrs. Applebite, occasioned another
rush of bodies and several gushes of tears; then titterings succeeded, and
then a simultaneous burst of laughter, and a rapid exit. Agamemnon looked
round that room which he had furnished in his bachelorhood. A thousand old
associations sprung up in his mind, and a vague feeling of anticipated
evil for a moment oppressed him. The _bijouterie_ seemed to reproach him
with unkindness for having placed a mistress over them, and the easy chair
heaved as though with suppressed emotion, at the thought that its
luxurious proportions had lost their charms. Collumpsion held a mental
toss-up whether he repented of the change in his condition; and, as
faithful historians, we are compelled to state that it was only the
entrance, at that particular moment, of Juliana, that induced him to
cry - woman.

On the following day the knocker of No. 24 disturbed all the other
numerals in Pleasant-terrace; and Mr. and Mrs. A. bowed and curtsied until
they were tired, in acknowledgment of their friends' "wishes of joy," and,
as one unlucky old gentleman expressed himself, "many happy returns of the
day."

It was a matter of surprise to many of the said friends, that so great an
alteration as was perceptible in the happy pair, should have occurred in
such a very short space of time.

"I used to think Mr. Applebite a very nice young man," said _Miss_ - mind,
Miss Scragbury - "but, dear me, how he's altered."

"And Mrs. Applebite used to be a pretty girl," rejoined her brother
Julius; "but now (Juliana had refused him three times) - but now she's as
ill-looking as her mother."

"I'd no idea this house was so small," said Mrs. Scragmore. "I'm afraid
the Waddledots haven't made so great a catch, after all. I hope poor Juley
will be happy, for I nursed her when a baby, but I never saw such an ugly
pattern for a stair-carpet in my born days;" and with these favourable
impressions of their dear friends the Applebites, the Scragmores descended
the steps of No. 24, Pleasant-terrace, and then ascended those of No. 5436
hackney-coach.

About ten months after their union, Collumpsion was observed to have a
more jaunty step and smiling countenance, which - as his matrimonial
felicity had been so frequently pronounced perfect - puzzled his friends
amazingly. Indeed, some were led to conjecture, that his love for Juliana
Theresa was not of the positive character that he asserted it to be; for
when any inquiries were made after her health, his answer had invariably
been, of late, "Why, Mrs. A. - is - not very well;" and a smile would play
about his mouth, as though he had a delightful vision of a widower-hood.
The mystery was at length solved, by the exhibition of sundry articles of
a Lilliputian wardrobe, followed by an announcement in the _Morning Post_,
under the head of

"BIRTHS. - Yesterday morning, the lady of Agamemnon Collumpsion
Applebite, Esq., of a son and heir."

Pleasant-terrace was _strawed_ from one end to the other; the knocker of
24 was encased in white kid, a doctor's boy was observed to call three
times a-day, and a pot-boy twice as often.

Collumpsion was in a seventh heaven of wedded bliss. He shook hands with
everybody - thanked everybody - invited everybody when Mrs. A. should be
better, and noted down in his pocket-book what everybody prescribed as
infallible remedies for the measles, hooping-cough, small-pox, and rashes
(both nettle and tooth) - listened for hours to the praises of vaccination
and Indian-rubber rings - pronounced Goding's porter a real blessing to
mothers, and inquired the price of boys' suits and rocking-horses!

In this state of paternal felicity we must leave him till our next.

* * * * *


TO CAPITALISTS.

It is rumoured that Macready is desirous of disposing of his "manners"
previous to becoming manager, when he will have no further occasion for
them. They are in excellent condition, having been very little used, and
would be a desirable purchase for any one expecting to move within the
sphere of his management.

* * * * *


REASON'S NE PLUS ULTRA.

A point impossible for mind to reach -
To find _the meaning_ of a royal speech.

* * * * *


AN APPROPRIATE NAME.

The late Queen of the Sandwich Islands, and the first convert to
Christianity in that country, was called _Keopalani_, which means - "_the
dropping of the clouds from Heaven_."

EPIGRAM ON THE ABOVE.

This name's the best that could be given,
As will by proof be quickly seen;
For, "dropping from the clouds of Heaven,"
She was, of course, the _raining_ Queen.

* * * * *


CAUTION TO SPORTSMEN.

Our gallant friend Sibthorp backed himself on the 1st of September to bag
a hundred leverets in the course of the day. He lost, of course; and upon
being questioned as to his reason for making so preposterous a bet, he
confessed that he had been induced to do so by the specious promise of an
advertisement, in which somebody professed to have discovered "_a powder
for the removal of superfluous hairs_."

* * * * *


OUT OF SEASON.


A LYRIC, BY THE LAST MAN - IN TOWN.

Chaos returns! no soul's in town!
And darkness reigns where lamps once brightened;
Shutters are closed, and blinds drawn down -
Untrodden door-steps go unwhitened!
The echoes of some straggler's boots
Alone are on the pavement ringing
While 'prentice boys, who smoke cheroots,
Stand critics to some broom-girl's singing.

I went to call on Madame Sims,
In a dark street, not far from Drury;
An Irish crone half-oped the door.
Whose head might represent a fury.
"At home, sir?" "No! (_whisper_) - but I'll presume
To tell the truth, or know the _raison_.
She dines - tays - lives - in the back room,
Bekase 'tis not the London _saison_."

From thence I went to Lady Bloom's,
Where, after sundry rings and knocking,
A yawning, liveried lad appear'd,
His squalid face his gay clothes mocking
I asked him, in a faltering tone -
The house was closed - I guess'd the reason -
"Is Lady B.'s grand-aunt, then, gone?" -
"To Ramsgate, sir! - until next season!"

I sauntered on to Harry Gray's,
The _ennui_ of my heart to lighten;
His landlady, with, smirk and smile,
Said, "he had just run down to Brighton."
When home I turned my steps, at last,
A tailor - whom to kick were treason -
Pressed for his bill; - I hurried past,
Politely saying - CALL NEXT SEASON!

* * * * *


THE GENTLEMAN'S OWN BOOK.

We concluded our last article with a brief dissertation on the cut of the
trousers; we will now proceed to the consideration of coats.

"The hour must come when such things must be made."

For this quotation we are indebted to

[Illustration: THE POET'S PAGE.]

There are three kinds of coats - the body, the surtout, and the great.

The body-coat is again divided into classes, according to their
application, viz. - the drawing-room, the ride, and the field.

The cut of the dress-coat is of paramount importance, that being the
garment which decorates the gentleman at a time when he is naturally
ambitious of going the entire D'Orsay. There is great nicety required in
cutting this article of dress, so that it may at one and the same moment
display the figure and waistcoat of the wearer to the utmost advantage.
None but a John o'Groat's goth would allow it to be imagined that the
buttons and button-holes of this _robe_ were ever intended to be anything
but opposite neighbours, for a contrary conviction would imply the absence
of a cloak in the hall or a cab at the door. We do not intend to give a
Schneiderian dissertation upon garments; we merely wish to trace outlines;
but to those who are anxious for a more intimate acquaintance with the
intricacies and mysteries of the delightful and civilising art of cutting,
we can only say, _Vide_ Stultz.[1]

[1] Should any gentleman avail himself of this hint, we should feel
obliged if he would mention the source from whence it was
derived, having a small account standing in that quarter, for
tailors have gratitude.

The riding-coat is the connecting link between the DRESS and the rest of
the great family of coats, as _one_ button, and one only of this garment,
may be allowed to be applied to his apparent use.

It is so cut, that the waistcoat pockets may be easy of access. Any
gentleman who has attended races or other sporting meetings must have
found the convenience of this arrangement; for where the course is well
managed, as at Epsom, Ascot, Hampton, &c., by the judicious regulations of
the stewards, the fingers are generally employed in the distribution of
those miniature argentine medallions of her Majesty so particularly
admired by ostlers, correct card-vendors, E.O. table-keepers, Mr. Jerry,
and the toll-takers on the road and the course. The original idea of these
coats was accidentally given by John Day, who was describing, on Nugee's
cutting-board, the exact curvature of Tattenham Corner.

The shooting-jacket should be designed after a dovecot or a chest of
drawers; and the great art in rendering this garment perfect, is to make
the coat entirely of pockets, that part which covers the shoulders being
only excepted, from the difficulty of carrying even a cigar-case in that
peculiar situation.

The surtout (not regulation) admits of very little design. It can only be
varied by the length of the skirts, which may be either as long as a
fireman's, or as short as Duvernay's petticoats. This coat is, in fact, a
cross between the dress and the driving, and may, perhaps, be described as
a Benjamin junior.

Of the Benjamin senior, there are several kinds - the Taglioni, the Pea,
the Monkey, the Box, _et sui generis_.

The three first are all of the coal-sackian cut, being, in fact, elegant
elongated pillow-cases, with two diminutive bolsters, which are to be
filled with arms instead of feathers. They are singularly adapted for
concealing the fall in the back, and displaying to the greatest advantage
those unassuming castors designated "Jerrys," which have so successfully
rivalled those silky impostors known to the world as

[Illustration: THIS (S)TILE - FOUR-AND-NINE.]

The box-coat has, of late years, been denuded of its layers of capes, and
is now cut for the sole purpose, apparently, of supporting perpendicular
rows of wooden platters or mother-of-pearl counters, each of which would
be nearly large enough for the top of a lady's work-table.
Mackintosh-coats have, in some measure, superseded the box-coat; but, like
carters' smock-frocks, they are all the creations of speculative minds,
having the great advantage of keeping out the water, whilst they assist
you in becoming saturated with perspiration. We strongly suspect their
acquaintance with India-rubber; they seem to us to be a preparation of
English rheumatism, having rather more of the catarrh than caoutchouc in
their composition. Everybody knows the affinity of India-rubber to
black-lead; but when made into a Mackintosh, you may substitute the _lum_
for the _plum_bago.

We never see a fellow in a seal-skin cap, and one of these waterproof
pudding-bags, but we fancy he would make an excellent model for

[Illustration: THE FIGURE-HEAD OF A CONVICT SHIP.]

The ornaments and pathology will next command our attention.

* * * * *


A friend insulted us the other day with the following: - "Billy Black
supposes Sam Rogers wears a tightly-laced boddice. Why is it like one of
Milton's heroes?" Seeing we gave it up, he replied - "Because
Sam's-on-agony-stays." - (Samson _Agonistes_.)

* * * * *


THE GOLDEN-SQUARE REVOLUTION.

[BY EXPRESS.]

This morning, at an early hour, we were thrown into the greatest
consternation by a column of boys, who poured in upon us from the northern
entrance, and, taking up their-station near the pump, we expected the
worst.

_8 o'clock._ - The worst has not yet happened. An inhabitant has entered
the square-garden, and planted himself at the back of the statue; but
everything is in STATUE QUO.

_5 minutes past 8._ - The boys are still there. The square-keeper is
nowhere to be found.

_10 minutes past 8._ - The insurgents have, some of them, mounted on the
fire-escape. The square-keeper has been seen. He is sneaking round the
corner, and resolutely refuses to come nearer.

_1/4 past 8._ - A deputation has waited on the square-keeper. It is
expected that he will resign.

_20 minutes past 8._ - The square-keeper refuses to resign.

_22 minutes past 8._ - The square-keeper has resigned.

_25 minutes past 8._ - The boys have gone home.

_1/2 past 8._ - The square-keeper has been restored, and is showing great
courage and activity. It is not thought necessary to place him under arms;
but he is under the engine, which can he brought into play at a moment's
notice. His activity is surprising, and his resolution quite undaunted.

_9 o'clock._ - All is perfectly quiet, and the letters are being delivered
by the general post-man as usual. The inhabitants appear to be going to
their business, as if nothing had happened. The square-keeper, with the
whole of his staff (a constable's staff), may be seen walking quietly up
and down. The revolution is at an end; and, thanks to the fire-engine, our
old constitution is still preserved to us.

* * * * *


RECOLLECTIONS OF A TRIP IN MR HAMPTON'S BALLOON.

IN A LETTER FROM A WOULD-BE PASSENGER.

My dear Friend. - You are aware how long I have been longing to go up in a
balloon, and that I should certainly have some time ago ascended with Mr.
Green, had not his terms been not simply a _cut_ above me, but several
gashes beyond my power to comply with them. In a word, I did not go up
with the Nassau, because I could not come down with the dust, and though I
always had "Green in my eye," I was not quite so soft as to pay twenty
pounds in hard cash for the fun of going, on

[Illustration: A DARK (K)NIGHT,]

nobody knows where, and coming down Heaven knows how, in a field belonging
to the Lord knows who, and being detained for goodness knows what, for
damage.

Not being inclined, therefore, for a nice and expensive voyage with Mr.
Green, I made a cheap and nasty arrangement with Mr. Hampton, the
gentleman who courageously offers to descend in a parachute - a thing very
like a parasol - and who, as he never mounts much above the height of
ordinary palings, might keep his word without the smallest risk of any
personal inconvenience.

It was arranged and publicly announced that the balloon, carrying its
owner and myself, should start from the Tea-gardens of the _Mitre and
Mustard Pot_, at six o'clock in the evening; and the public were to be
admitted at one, to see the process of inflation, it being shrewdly
calculated by the proprietor, that, as the balloon got full, the stomachs
of the lookers on would be getting empty, and that the refreshments would
go off while the tedious work of filling a silken bag with gas was going
on, so that the appetites and the curiosity of the public would be at the
same time satisfied.

The process of inflation seemed to have but little effect on the balloon,
and it was not until about five o'clock that the important discovery was
made, that the gas introduced at the bottom had been escaping through a
hole in the top, and that the Equitable Company was laying it on
excessively thick through the windpipes of the assembled company.

Six o'clock arrived, and, according to contract, the supply of gas was cut
off, when the balloon, that had hitherto worn such an appearance as just
to give a hope that it might in time be full, began to present an aspect
which induced a general fear that it must very shortly be empty. The
audience began to be impatient for the promised ascent, and while the
aeronaut was running about in all directions looking for the hole, and
wondering how he should stop it up, I was requested by the proprietor of
the gardens to step into the car, just to check the growing impatience of
the audience. I was received with that unanimous shout of cheering and
laughter with which a British audience always welcomes any one who appears
to have got into an awkward predicament, and I sat for a few minutes,
quietly expecting to be buried in the silk of the balloon, which was
beginning to collapse with the greatest rapidity. The spectators becoming
impatient for the promised ascent, and seeing that it could not be
achieved, determined, as enlightened British audiences invariably do, that
if it was not to be done, it should at all events be attempted. In vain
did Mr. Hampton come forward to apologise for the trifling accident; he
was met by yells, hoots, hisses, and orange-peel, and the benches were
just about to be torn up, when he declared, that under any circumstances,
he was determined to go up - an arrangement in which I was refusing to
coincide - when, just as he had got into the car, all means of getting out
were withdrawn from under us - the ropes were cut, and the ascent commenced
in earnest.

The majestic machine rose slowly to the height of about eight feet, amid
the most enthusiastic cheers, when it rolled over among some trees, amid
the most frantic laughter. Mr. Hampton, with singular presence of mind,
threw out every ounce of ballast, which caused the balloon to ascend a few
feet higher, when a tremendous gust of easterly wind took us triumphantly
out of the gardens, the palings of which we cleared with considerable
nicety. The scene at this moment was magnificent; the silken monster, in a
state of flabbiness, rolling and fluttering above, while below us were
thousands of spectators, absolutely shrieking with merriment. Another gust
of wind carried us rapidly forward, and, bringing us exactly in a level
with a coach-stand, we literally swept, with the bottom of our car, every
driver from off his box, and, of course, the enthusiasm of a British
audience almost reached its climax. We now encountered the gable-end of a
station-house, and the balloon being by this time thoroughly collapsed,
our aerial trip was brought to an abrupt conclusion. I know nothing more
of what occurred, having been carried on a shutter, in a state of

[Illustration: SUSPENDED ANIMATION,]

to my own lodging, while my companion was left to fight it out with the
mob, who were so anxious to possess themselves of some _memento_ of the
occasion, that the balloon was torn to ribbons, and a fragment of it
carried away by almost every one of the vast multitude which had assembled
to honour him with their patronage.

I have the honour to be, yours, &c.
A. SPOONEY.

* * * * *


FEARFUL STATE OF LONDON!

A country gentleman informs us that he was horror-stricken at the sight of
an apparently organised band, wearing fustian coats, decorated with
curious brass badges, bearing exceedingly high numbers, who perched
themselves behind the Paddington omnibuses, and, in the most barefaced and
treasonable manner, urged the surrounding populace to open acts of daring
violence, and wholesale arson, by shouting out, at the top of their
voices, "O burn, the City, and the Bank."

* * * * *


"WHO ARE TO BE THE LORDS IN WAITING."

"We have lordlings in dozens," the Tories exclaim,
"To fill every place from the throng;
Although the cursed Whigs, be it told to our shame,
Kept us _poor lords in waiting_ too long."

* * * * *


LOOKING ON THE BLACK SIDE OF THINGS.

The Honourable Sambo Sutton begs us to state, that he is not the
Honourable - - Sutton who is announced as the Secretary for the Home


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