Punch, or the London Charivari, Volume 93, December 3, 1887 — John Shaqi
Punch, or the London Charivari, Volume 93, December 3, 1887Various
General
Punch, or the London Charivari, Volume 93, December 3, 1887
Various
English wit and humor -- Periodicals
I shood werry much have liked to have heard a good deal more about them
werry old Copperashuns, and weather they was to be compared to that
werry old 'un as I nose so well and respecs so ighly, for good deeds as
well as good living. Take their werry last one as a sample. Earing of
what was a going on down at Kilburn on Guy Fox day, and finding as the
return train would bring me back in time for my perfeshnal dooties, I
went there and found thowsands of peeple all met in a nice little new
Park, that the old +Lord Mare+ was a coming down to fust of all crissen,
and then throw open to the publick. And down he came accordingly in his
full state Carridge, and his full state Footmen, and his full state
Sherryiffs, and their full state Carridges and Footmen, jest for all the
world as if he was a going to make a call on a few Royal Princes and
Dooks, insted of opening a new Park surrounded by numbers of the reel
working-classes. But he always has bin a reel gennelman, and never makes
no difference atween rich and poor when he can do some good. I wasn't
quite near enuff to hear what he said when he made his speech, but a
werry respectable reporter arterwards told me, that the +Lord Mare+ had
written a letter to +Queen Wictoria+ to ask if he might call the Park
after her. And she had wrote to him in reply, "Deer +Handsum+, as
there's alreddy a Wictoria Park, you may call this here one the Qween's
Park. Pleas to remember this 5th of Nowember, Yours trewly, W. R. I."
When the +Lord Mare+ enounced this pleasing intelligence, thus simply
exprest, lorks how we did all cheer, and a little band that had bin hid
in a little tent, struck up the hole of arf a werse of _God Save the
Queen_, at which we all took off our hats, footmen and all, and braved
the bitter blarst with our bare heds. Ah, that's wot I calls trew
loyalty, and long may it continue, not the cold bitter blarst, but the
warm sweet loyalty, for I'm sorry to say as the unusual xposure guv me a
bad cold.
I got back just in time for the Bankwet. The +Lord Mare+ with his usual
kindness had let the Chairman of the Committee, the sillibrated Mr.
+Woodbacon+, the grate bookseller, take the Chair, and a remarkabul good
un he made, setting so good a xample as regards short speeches as made
ewerybody follow suit.
And now what was this hole proceeding all about? This is what I learnt
from what was said:--
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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