Punch . end burns the golden thread that ties their hearts together, and it isno longer a friendship but a conspiracy. So says the noble BishopTaylor, and you would not have me go against a bishop ? is held by all authorities that there is nothing foppish and effemi-nate in taking particular care of your beard and moustachio. I like tosee thelatter elegantly waxed—waxing it by no means implies that yourway of life Has fallen into the eire and yellow Cowpers last biographer maintains that the poet was not renderedinsane by his religion, but that on the contrary his ill-ballaste
Punch . end burns the golden thread that ties their hearts together, and it isno longer a friendship but a conspiracy. So says the noble BishopTaylor, and you would not have me go against a bishop ? is held by all authorities that there is nothing foppish and effemi-nate in taking particular care of your beard and moustachio. I like tosee thelatter elegantly waxed—waxing it by no means implies that yourway of life Has fallen into the eire and yellow Cowpers last biographer maintains that the poet was not renderedinsane by his religion, but that on the contrary his ill-ballasted mindreceived a wholesome impulse from spiritual blasts. The amiable bardcould not be angry at this, if he could hear it, for he says— A moral, sensible, and well-bred manWill not insult me—and no other can. and I could safely declare All knowledge to be our smaller men, endeavouring to be cosmical, are apt to be comical. 36 PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. [January 27, ARCTIC TRAVELLERS CUTTING THEIR WAY THROUGH A SNOW-DRIFT. COMMANDER-IN-CHIEF OP EXPEDITION RECONNOITRING FRIENDLY NATIVE SETTLEMENT WITH A GLASS, IN HOPES OF OBTAINING ASSISTANCE. (Lat. 51° 36 N.; long. 0° 10 W.—Jan. \lth, 1866, 715 ) THE POUNDING OF PORT-HAYTIEN. {A Folcsle Ballad by a Bull-dog.) Of Bull-dogs game we ve heered the fame, in the Bull-rings of old,How though you cut their paws off, they still would keep their hold ;And the British bull-dog breeds the same afloat as tis ashore,Though the bull-ring aint now the thing, and bull-baits is no more. The twenty-third of October, at Port-Haytien we lay,When Captain Wake says, Pipe all hands, the anchor for to weigh;We 11 just put out, and cruize about, at the targets try a round,Taint Bull-dogs sort to lie in port till on beef-bones aground. As we cleared the bight, we saw a sight set up the Captains back,Three craft o Salnaves chasin one as flew the Union Jack. Pire a blank gun to leeward, says Captain Wake, say
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Keywords: ., bookcentury1800, bookdecade1840, booksubjectenglishwitandhumor
