Punch, or the London Charivari, Vol. 104, April 8, 1893

Excerpt

Fleacatcher.—Yes, the trout in the river Itching (this is the only correct spelling) are red, and, before they are boiled, raw. The best method of catching them is to tickle them. When you have hooked an Itching trout, you first scratch him, and then cook him.

Novice.—We only knew one man who could make a decent rod, and he died twenty years ago. Remember the old adage so dear to Izaak, Qui parcit virgæ spoliat puerum. For instructions as to use of implement, and translation of Latin, apply to any head-master. Failure in the latter will inevitably lead to application of the former. Then pause for reflection, but don't sit down.

Spook.—What on earth is the use of applying to us about a phantom? We never keep one on the premises. Try personal interview with W. T. Stead, who has a fine selection, Julia being specially effective. Why do you ask if we generally spin? Not having been born a top, we prefer walking.

Contemplative.—(1) It's absolutely useless offering us these paltry inducements to betray the secrets of our skill. We are—we hope we may say it without undue pride—an All-Round Angler, and we are not going to be squared by a bait of that kind. (2) We have never pretended we were a salmon. If Andrew Lang says we have, we challenge him to repeat it to our face before witnesses. (3) Whitebait are no longer kept in the Round Pond at Kensington. We knew as many as four there ten years ago.

Calipee.—You are quite right. When a ship turns turtle the fact is instantly communicated to the Lord Mayor and Aldermen of the City of London. They proceed to the spot in the Maria Wood, and the one who secures the interesting saurian is allowed to eat all the green fat. With you we hope devoutly that the time is far distant when the desecrating hand of a Socialistic Government will be allowed to lay a finger on these ancient civic customs. No. The Fishmongers' Company do not sell fish. Their motto is, Edo, non vendo.

Acton Est.—The Cornhill Magazine for this month has an interesting article on "Actors and Actresses in Westminster Abbey," not seen there much when alive, but there for good after their decease. It is stated of Mrs. Barry that she was not interred in the Abbey, as has been, it appears, generally supposed, but found her resting-place at Acton. Odd, that when she had ceased to act, she should be sent to Act-on!

"TAKE CARE OF THE PENCE, AND THE POUNDS," &c.

Muriel. "Mamma, what have you got the Carriage out for so late? Where are you going?"

Mrs. Goldie. "Now, Muriel, you know how your Father keeps worrying about Extravagance, and of course I must set an Example. So I'm going to the Public Library to see the Evening Paper!"

THE CRY OF THE CUE-IST.

(To the Champion, by a Discouraged Competitor.)

Break, break, break,

On the smooth green board, O John!

And I would civil words could utter

My thoughts, as the game goes on!

O well for the three-figure runs

You have made since we opened play!

O ill for my nine thousand start,

Which you're lessening day by day!

And the marvellous shots go on

To your score, which is mounting still!

But O for a touch of that wondrous hand,

And a slice of that startling skill!

Break, break, break!

There's a shot! Great Scott! O, see!

What tender grace! And if once ahead

You will never "come back" to me!