PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.
VOL. 108. June 22, 1895.
edited by Sir Francis Burnand
ROUNDABOUT READINGS.
It has been noticed by philosophers that a mere name will oftenlead a man to his ruin. Why, for example, was John Darley finedtwenty shillings and costs at the Tynemouth Petty Sessions? Hemet a boiler-smith, Richard Rothwell, riding on a bicycle.Thereupon, without any apparentreason, he used abusive language,bashed the unoffending boiler-smithon the nose, brandished aknife, and shouted out, "Comeon!—I'm Johnny Darley, fromByker." There you have it. Residing,as he did, in a perpetualcomparative, he naturally despisedand loathed the positive "byke."Hence his violent assault on itsrider.
I observe, with deep regret, thatProfessor Lloyd, of Southport, has been fined for trespassing on arailway bridge at Preston. The Professor did not want to stay there.All he wished to do, and all that he actually did, was to dive off intothe water below. He is an aquatic Professor, and informed theBench that he was obliged to do these things to keep up his reputation.
I'll tell you a tale of Professor Lloyd,
Who dived off a bridge at Preston—
An act that the magistrates much annoyed,
Though he kept both his coat and vest on.
They said "You mustn't repeat this joke,
Professor, or else you'll rue it."
But Lloyd, the Professor, he up and spoke,
And said, "I'm obliged to do it.
Up on the bridge I stand for awhile,
I stand till I fairly shiver.
Then down I go—it seems like a mile—
And I plunge in the bubbling river.
I hope your worships won't "queer my pitch,"
For I'm sorry to give you trouble
In maintaining a reputation which
Is so closely combined with bubble."
I wish I had been in Hawick lately. Ever since I first learnt therudiments of the English language I have been haunted by a desireto know how a man looked and acted when he "bussed theStandard." They've done that at Hawick "in connection," as Iread, "with the celebration of the ancient custom of the CommonRiding." Later on "the local slogan 'Teribus' was sung with greatvigour." There is something crushing, scattering, and battle-heraldingabout the mere sound of that fearful word.
J. B., who describes himself as "A Residenter in Oswald Road,"writes to The Scotsman to complain of the flimsy material used in theconstruction of the lamp-posts near his dwelling. The other day amilk-van ran away—at least, the horse drawing it did. "One wouldthink," says J. B., "the progress of such a small vehicle would havebeen arrested by coming into collision with one lamp-post, but fourposts were destroyed by the van. On examination it is found thatthe foundation of a street lamp-post only goes three inches into thestone below it. With such a short hold the lamp-post is easilytoppled over." Of course