Chapter I: Front Matter

Designed to provide in a series of volumes, each complete in itself, the cream of our national humour, contributed by the masters of comic draughtsmanship and the leading wits of the age to "Punch," from its beginning in 1841 to the present day

* * * * *

MR. PUNCH'S COUNTRY LIFE

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MR. PUNCH'S COUNTRY LIFE

HUMOURS OF OUR RUSTICS

AS PICTURED BY

PHIL MAY, L. RAVEN-HILL,
CHARLES KEENE, GEORGE
DU MAURIER, BERNARD
PARTRIDGE, GUNNING
KING, LINLEY SAMBOURNE,
G. D. ARMOUR,
C. E. BROCK, TOM BROWNE,
LEWIS BAUMER, WILL
OWEN, F. H. TOWNSEND,
G. H. JALLAND, G. E.
STAMPA, AND OTHERS

_WITH 180 ILLUSTRATIONS_

PUBLISHED BY ARRANGEMENT WITH

THE PROPRIETORS OF "PUNCH"

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THE EDUCATIONAL BOOK CO. LTD.

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THE PUNCH LIBRARY OF HUMOUR

_Twenty-five volumes, crown 8vo, 192 pages fully illustrated_

LIFE IN LONDON
COUNTRY LIFE
IN THE HIGHLANDS
SCOTTISH HUMOUR
IRISH HUMOUR
COCKNEY HUMOUR
IN SOCIETY
AFTER DINNER STORIES
IN BOHEMIA
AT THE PLAY
MR. PUNCH AT HOME
ON THE CONTINONG
RAILWAY BOOK
AT THE SEASIDE
MR. PUNCH AFLOAT
IN THE HUNTING FIELD
MR. PUNCH ON TOUR
WITH ROD AND GUN
MR. PUNCH AWHEEL
BOOK OF SPORTS
GOLF STORIES
IN WIG AND GOWN
ON THE WARPATH
BOOK OF LOVE
WITH THE CHILDREN

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ON RUSTIC HUMOUR

Than the compilation of such a series of books as that which includes the present volume there could surely be no more engaging occupation for one who delights to look on the humorous side of life. The editor feels that if his readers derive as much enjoyment from the result of his labours as these labours have afforded him he may reasonably congratulate them! He has found himself many times over, as a book has taken shape from his gatherings in the treasure house of Mr. Punch, saying "This is the best of the lot"--and usually he has been right. There is none but is "the best!" There _may_ be one that is not quite so good as the other twenty-four; but wild horses would not drag the name of that one from the editor. He feels, however, that in illustrating the humours of country life Mr. Punch has risen to the very summit of his genius. There is, of course, good reason for this, as it is notorious that the richest humour is to be found in the lowly walks of life, and flourishes chiefly in rustic places where folks are simple and character has been allowed to grow with something of that individuality we find in the untouched products of Nature. Your true humorist has always been in quick sympathy with the humblest of his fellow men. In the village worthy, in poor blundering Hodge, in the rough but kindly country doctor, the picturesque tramp, the droning country parson, the inept curate, the village glee singers, and such like familiar figures of rural England, the humorist has never failed to find that "source of innocent merriment" he might seek for vainly in more exalted ranks of our complex society. But he seeks among the country folk because his heart is there. The very best of Mr. Punch's humorists of the pencil, Charles Keene and Phil May in the past, and Mr. Raven-Hill and Mr. C. E. Brock to-day, have given more consideration to the country ways of life than to any other, and hence the exceeding richness of the present volume. It is thus in no sense a comic picture of Mr. Punch's notions of how the so-called country life is attempted by the townsman--one of the most notable features of our present social conditions--but is, in effect, a refreshing breath of genuine rustic humour, kindly, whole-hearted, and "racy of the soil."

* * * * *

MR. PUNCH'S COUNTRY LIFE

* * * * *

THE BEST SHARE IN A FARM.--The plough-share.

* * * * *

A PROVERB FRESH FROM THE COUNTRY.--No gooseberry without a thorn.

* * * * *

THE CONNOISSEURS.--_Groom._ "Whew's Beer do you like best--this 'ere hom'brewed o' Fisk's, or that there ale they gives yer at the White Ho's'?" _Keeper_ (_critically_). "Well, o' the tew I prefers this 'ere. That there o' Wum'oods's don't fare to me to taste o' nawthun at all. Now this 'ere dew taste o' the cask!!"

* * * * *

(_From Dumb-Crambo Junior's Point of View._)]

* * * * *

THE LANGUAGE OF FRUITS

Apple Discord.
Pear Marriage.
Plum Wealth.
Pine Languishment.
Gooseberry Simplicity.
Medlar Interference.
Service Assistance.
Elder-berry Seniority.
Fig Defiance.
Sloe Tardiness.
Crab Sour Temper.
Date Chronology.
Hip Applause.
Haw Swells.
Plaintain Growth.
Pomegranate Seediness.
Prune Retrenchment.

* * * * *

THE REAL LAND QUESTION.--How to make land _answer_.

* * * * *

PERFECT QUIET.--The still room.

* * * * *

* * * * *

A COUNTRY SELL.--_Native Joker_ (_dissembling_). It's been very fine here for the last week.

_Tourist_ (_who has been kept in by the showers, indignantly_). _What's_ been very fine here?

_Native._ The rain. Very fine rain.

[_Exit Native Joker, hurriedly._

* * * * *

"THE BEST OF IT."--_First Gentleman Farmer._ "Why, there goes that artful rogue, Billy Giles! Is he at his old tricks still?"

_Second Ditto._ "He has cheated everybody down about here, sir, except me! He tried it on this winter, but I was too clever for him! Sold me a cow, and--(_triumphantly_)--I made him take it back at _half-price!!_"

* * * * *

THE REAL "LAND AGITATION."--An earthquake.

* * * * *

A CRY FROM KENT.

Prosperity's fled from our gardens and grounds;
How spindly our bines and how scanty our crops!
Wealth _may_ be "advancing by leaps and by bounds,"
It certainly isn't by _hops_!

* * * * *

ADVICE TO FARMERS.--Feed your poultry well, and you will insure full crops.

* * * * *

* * * * *

_Curate_ (_who wishes to encourage local industry_). "Well, Adams, how are you getting on with my watch?"

_Adams._ "Why, it be nigh finished now, zur, an' 'e do zeem to go mortal well, but dang me, if there bain't a wheel as I can't find a place vor summow!"]

* * * * *

"I'm sorry to hear you've been ailing again, John. I must send you down something from the Rectory. How would you like some soup?"

"Thanky kindly, mum--but I bain't so terr'ble wrapped up in soup!"

* * * * *

WHAT RURAL DEANS SMOKE.--"Church-wardens."

* * * * *

* * * * *

_Mrs. Giles._ "Yes, zur; but what on earth be the good o' sending they little things vor a girt big chap like he? I jes' took an' clapped a ferret on 'un!"]

* * * * *

NOTE BY A CHIROPODIST (_in the country for the first time_).--"Must be very painful--corn in the ear."

* * * * *

A PASTORAL.--How should a shepherd arrange his dress? In folds.

* * * * *

THE DUNMOW FLITCH.--All gammon.

* * * * *

_Mr. Bawlington._ "Oh, yes; everything was all right. There was only one thing to object to. I found the acoustics of the building not quite----"

_Hotel-keeper._ "No, sir; excuse me. _What you smelt was the stables next door!_"]

* * * * *

_Farmer._ "Thee zhut thee eyes an' walk about a bit, an' thee'll zoon get down!"]

* * * * *

AN OLD OFFENDER.--_Country Gentleman_ (_eyeing his Gardener suspiciously_). "Dear, dear me, Jeffries, this is too bad! After what I said to you yesterday, I didn't think to find you----"

_Gardener._ "You can't shay--(_hic_)--I wash drunk yesht'day, sh----!"

_Country Gentleman_ (_sternly_). "Are you sober this morning, sir?"

_Gardener._ "I'm--shlightly shober, shir!!"

* * * * *

* * * * *

_Hodge._ "I dunno, miss. Noan of they pigs ain't ever been ill!"]

* * * * *

_Farmer's Wife_ (_whose beer is of the smallest_). "Why, you hevn't drunk half of it, Mas'r Gearge!"

_Peasant_ (_politely_). "Thanky', mu'm--all the same, mu'm. But I bean't so thusty as I thought I wor, mu'm!!"]

* * * * *

_Nephew_ (_on a visit to the "Old Country"_). "Ah, uncle, in Canada we don't do our hay-makin' in this 'ere old-fashioned way."

_Uncle._ "Why, you bean't never goin' to tell I as you've bin an' turned teetotal?"]

* * * * *

RECIPROCITY.--_Parson._ "I have missed you from your pew of late, Mr. Stubbings----"

_Farmer_ (_apologetically_). "Well, sir, I hev' been to meet'n' lately, but--y' see, sir, the Reverend Mr. Scowles o' the chapel, he bought some pigs o' me, and I thought I ought to gi' 'm a tarn!"

* * * * *

THE FARMER FOR THE FAIR.--A husbandman.

* * * * *

* * * * *

ON A FOOTING.--Almost every considerable town has a market for corn; therefore, it is but fit that Bedford Market-place should have its Bunyan.

* * * * *

PLACE OF RESIDENCE FOR LODGERS.--Border-land.

* * * * *

SOUNDINGS!--(_The living down at our village falling vacant,_ Lord Pavondale _left it to the parish to choose the new rector._)

_Influential Parishioner._ "Then am I to understand, Mr. Maniple, that you object to bury a Dissenter?"

_The Rev. Mr. Maniple_ (_one of the competitors_). "Oh, dear me, no, Mr. Jinks; quite the contrary!"

* * * * *

A HIGH CHURCH PARTY.--A steeple-jack.

* * * * *

A CLERICAL ERROR.--A long sermon.

* * * * *

_Visitor._ "My good man, you keep your pigs much too near the house."

_Cottager._ "That's just what the doctor said, mum. But I don't see how it's agoin' to hurt 'em!"

* * * * *

* * * * *

A WET DIARY

_January._--Buy a house in the Midland Counties. Put a housekeeper in it to look after it.

_February._--Housekeeper writes to say that, owing to the floods, the neighbourhood is very damp and unhealthy.

_March._--Housekeeper writes to say that the garden is under water.

_April._--Housekeeper writes to say that there is two foot of water in the drawing-room, and that the furniture is floating about.

_May._--Housekeeper writes to say that eighty feet of the garden wall has been washed away.

_June._--Housekeeper writes to say that the two horses, one cow, and four pigs are drowned.

_July._--Go and stop in the house myself.

_August._--Escape from the bedroom windows in a boat.

_September._--In bed with rheumatic fever.

_October._--Housekeeper writes to say that the floods are out worse than ever.

_November._--Somebody writes to say that the housekeeper has been drowned.

_December._--Will try and sell house in the Midland Counties.

* * * * *

* * * * *

_The Philosopher._ "Ah, it's a 'ard world for some poor blokes!"]

* * * * *

A REAL CONVERT.--_Local Preacher (giving an account to the vicar of the parish of a dispute he has had with the leading lights of his sect)._ "Yes, sir, after treatment the likes o' that, I says to 'em, 'For the future,' says I, 'I chucks up all religion, and I goes to Church!'"

* * * * *

HABITS OF HEALTHY EXERCISE.--If a young lady is unable to sport a riding habit, she should adopt a walking habit.

* * * * *

* * * * *

"'Ere y' are! All the jolly fun! Lidies' tormentors two a penny!"]

* * * * *

_The Vicar's Daughter._ "I'm glad to find you've turned over a new leaf, Muggles, and don't waste your money at the public-house."

_Muggles._ "Yes, miss, I have it in by the barrel now, and that _do_ come cheaper!"]

* * * * *

TOWN THOUGHTS FROM THE COUNTRY

_(With the usual apologies.)_

Oh, to be in London now that April's there,
And whoever walks in London sees, some morning in the square,
That the upper thousands have come to town,
To the plane-trees droll in their new bark gown,
While the sparrows chirp, and the cats miaow
In London--now!
And after April, when May follows
And the black-coats come and go like swallows!
Mark, where yon fairy blossom in the Row
Leans to the rails, and canters on in clover,
Blushing and drooping, with her head bent low!
That's the wise child: she makes him ask twice over,
Lest he should think she views with too much rapture
Her first fine wealthy capture!
But,--though her path looks smooth, and though, alack!
All will be gay, till Time has painted black
The _Marigold_, her mother's chosen flower,--
Far brighter is my _Heartsease_, Love's own dower.

* * * * *

MRS. RAMSBOTHAM is staying with her niece in the country. She is much delighted with the rich colour of the spring bulbs, and says she at last understands the meaning of "as rich as Crocus."

* * * * *

* * * * *

_(Culled by Dumb-Crambo Junior)_

Marshal Niel--Rose.

Row-doe-den'd-run.

Minion-ate.

Pick-o'-tea.

Car-nation.

Dahli-a.

Any-money.

Double Pink.

Few-shiers.

Glad I-o-la!]

* * * * *

A CONUNDRUM TO FILL UP A GAP IN THE CONVERSATION.--Why is a person older than yourself like food for cattle?

Because he's past your age (_pasturage_).

* * * * *

EVERYTHING COMES TO THE MAN WHO WAITS.--_Country Rector's Wife (engaging man-servant)._ And can you wait at dinner?

_Man._ Aw, yes, mum; I'm never that hoongry but I can wait till you've done.

* * * * *

_Vicar._ "Well, gentlemen, what can I do for you?"

_Spokesman._ "Please, sir, we be a deputation from farmers down Froglands parish, to ask you to pray for fine weather for t'arvest."

_Vicar._ "Why don't you ask your own Vicar?"

_Spokesman._ "Well, sir, we reckon 'e be'unt much good for this 'ere. 'E do be that fond of fishin'."]

* * * * *

A RUSTIC MORALIST.--_Rector_ (_going his rounds_). "An uncommonly fine pig, Mr. Dibbles, I declare!"

_Contemplative Villager._ "Ah, yes, sir: if we was only, all of us, as fit to die as him, sir!!"

* * * * *

QUERY.--Has the want of rain this summer, and consequent failure of the hay crops, affected the market for Grass Widows?

* * * * *

_The Boy (to Brown, who has just taken a "little place" in the Country)._ "Plaze, zur, wot be I to start on?"

_Brown._ "Oh--er--er--let's see----Oh, confound it!--er--er--_make a bonfire!_"]

* * * * *

* * * * *

_Rustic_ (_to burnt-out Farmer_). "We r--r--rescued the b--b--beer zur!"]

* * * * *

LOCAL PECULIARITIES

At Bilston they always hit the right nail on the head.

At Bolton it is impossible for those who run up ticks to bolt off.

At Broadstairs the accommodation for stout visitors is unrivalled.

At Colchester they are all "natives."

At Coventry, strange to say, they can furnish no statistics of the number of persons who have been sent there.

At Kidderminster there is certain to be something fresh on the _tapis_.

At Liverpool they are extremely orthodocks.

If you write to Newcastle (Staffordshire) take care to under-Lyne the address.

At Newmarket they take particular interest in the question of races.

At Portsmouth everything is ship-shape.

At Rye you will meet none but Rye faces.

At Sheffield you will always find a knife and fork laid for you.

* * * * *

_Shakespeare, Henry the Fourth._

SCENE--_A Pit Village._ TIME--_Saturday Night._

_Barber_ (_to bibulous customer_). "Now, sir, if you don't hold your head back, I can't shave you!"

_Pitman._ "A'well, hinney, just cut me hair!"]

* * * * *

WHAT OUR ARCHITECT HAS TO PUT UP WITH.--_Our Architect_ (_Spotting Sixteenth Century gables_). "That's an old bit of work, my friend!"

"Oi, sir, yeu be roight, theer, that you be!"

_O. A._ (_keen for local tradition_). "You don't know exactly _how_ old, I suppose?"

"Well, noa, sir; but old it be! Whoi, I's knowed it myself these _noine_ years!"

* * * * *

OUR VILLAGE INDUSTRIAL COMPETITION.--_Husband_ (_just home from the City_). "My angel!--crying!--Whatever's the matter?"

_Wife._ "They've--awarded me--prize medal"--(_sobbing_)--"f' my sponge cake!"

_Husband_ (_soothingly_). "And I'm quite sure it deserv----"

_Wife_ (_hysterically_). "Oh--but--'t said--'twas--for the best specimen--o' concrete!"

* * * * *

_Our Choir-master_ (_after lamentable failure on part of Pupil_). "Confound it! I thought you said you could 'Read at sight'?"

_Pupil._ "So I can. But not _first_ sight."

* * * * *

A TRULY RURAL DEAN.--The Dean of Ferns.

* * * * *

_Village Worthy._ "It ain't so bad for Slowcombe, mum; but, lor' bless 'ee! 'tain't nothing to what they 'ud do in London!"]

* * * * *

_Village Doctor._ "And what do you intend to make of this little man, Mrs. Brisket?"

_Proud Mother._ "Butcher, sir. 'E's bound to be a butcher. Why, 'e 's that fond o' animals, we can 'ardly keep 'im out o' the slaughter-'ouse!"]

* * * * *

_Doctor._ "Well, John, how are you to-day?"

_John._ "Verra bad, verra bad. I wish Providence 'ud 'ave mussy on me an' take me!"

_Wife._ "'Ow can you expect it to if you won't take the doctor's physic?"]

* * * * *

_Lodger._ "I detect rather a disagreeable smell in the house, Mrs. Jones. Are you sure the drains----"

_Welsh Landlady._ "Oh, it can't be the drains, sir, whatever. There are none, sir!!"]

* * * * *

_Yorkshire Farmer_ (_who has laid a wager--to gentleman on weighing machine_). "Will ye tell us how mooch ye weigh, mister?"

_Gentleman._ "Well, I'm seventeen stone seven."

_Farmer._ "What did a' tell ye, lads? A' couldn't be wrang, for a's t' best joodge o' swine in t' coontry!"]

* * * * *

THE SWEETS OF COUNTRY LIFE

(_Depicted by a Man of Feeling_)

'Tis sweet at Summer eve to rove,
When brightly shines each twinkling star,
And, strolling through the silent grove,
Calmly to smoke a good cigar.

'Tis sweet upon the flowery mead
To see the tender lambkins play,
With pensive eye to watch them feed,
And note how plump to roast are they.

'Tis sweet the fallow deer to view,
Couched 'mid the fern in tranquil group;
'Tis sweet to hear the turtle's coo,
And meditate on turtle soup.

'Tis sweet, from cares domestic free,
While wandering by the streamlet's side,
The speckled trout or perch to see,
And think how nice they would be, fried.

'Tis sweet to mark the plover's flight,
Lone on the moor, its nest despoiled;
And with prospective mental sight
To contemplate its eggs, hard boiled.

'Tis sweet, beside the murmuring rill,
The scented violet to smell;
Yet may a perfume sweeter still
Attend the welcome dinner-bell!

* * * * *

* * * * *

FRIENDS IN COUNCIL.--_Tom Lothbury_ (_to Jack Billiter, who has "come in" to a nice little estate in Surrey, whereunto he intends retiring and rusticating_). "You'll keep cows, I s'pose, and all that sort of thing?"

_Jack._ "Oh, no, can't bear milk."

_Tom_ (_who has a taste for the rural_). "Cocks and hens, then?"

_Jack._ "No, hate eggs and puddings and all that!"

_Tom._ "Nor yet sheep?"

_Jack._ "Eh, ah! Oh, yes; I'll have a sheep, I'm vewy fond of kidneys for bweakfast!"

* * * * *

QUERY.--If you give two persons a seat in a cornfield, can this proceeding be called "setting them by the ears"?

* * * * *

SIMPLE, BUT AGRICULTURAL.--_Q._ What is the best time for sowing tares?

_A._ When the landlord goes round and collects his _rents_.

* * * * *

FOX'S MARTYRS.--Ducks, fowls, turkeys, and geese.

* * * * *

_Patient._ "Yes, doctor; but couldn't 'e do 'em up in something different? They little boxes be terrible hard to swallow!"]

* * * * *

ON THE WAY TO THE MANSE.--_Deacon MacTavish_ (_to_ Deacon MacBrose, _after visiting several hospitable houses on their way_). Hoot, mon Donald, yonder's the Meenister! Noo, I'll joost tek a few paces afore ye, in that ye may say gin my puir tired legs don't tremble.

_Deacon MacBrose._ Gae forrard, Sandy, gae forrard!

_Deacon MacTavish_ (_after stumbling ahead for several yards_). Weel, Donald, hoo gae they?

_Deacon MacBrose._ Richt bonnily, Sandy, richt bonnily. But wha's the mon that's walking beside ye?

* * * * *

FROM THE MINING DISTRICTS.--(_Young Curate finds a Miner sitting on a gate smoking._)--_Curate_ (_desirous to ingratiate himself with one of his flock_). A fine morning, my friend.

_One of his flock gives the slightest nod, and a grunt, and spits._

_Curate_ (_supposing that he had not been heard_). A fine morning, my good friend.

_One of his flock._ Did I say it warn't. Do you want to hargue, you beggar?

* * * * *

_Lady._ "And you say you have been brought to this by your wife?"

_Tramp._ "Yuss, lidy. I got 'er three good jobs, and 'er bloomin' independence lorst 'er the lot of 'em!"]

* * * * *

_Perkins_ (_the extra man who is had in to help at most dinners given in the neighbourhood--confidentially but audibly_). "Good evening, Miss Waters. There's some of that nice pudding here to-night, what last time you took twice of!"]

* * * * *

_The Bishop of Lichbury._ "Really, it's very shocking to read in the papers so many painful cases of wife-beating and assault among the labouring classes!"

_The Rev. Mr. Simmiel._ "It is indeed, my lord. Indeed--ahem--with your lordship's permission, one might almost call them _be_labouring classes."]

* * * * *

_Parson._ "Good morning, Mrs. Stubbins. Is your husband at home?"

_Mrs. Stubbins._ "'E's 'ome, sir; but 'e 's a-bed."

_Parson._ "How is it he didn't come to church on Sunday? You know we must have our hearts in the right place."

_Mrs. Stubbins._ "Lor, sir, 'is 'eart's all right. It's 'is trowziz!"]

* * * * *

A POACHER'S PARADISE.--_About an hour from town._--Charming bijou residence ... _grounds adjoin a large pheasant preserve; owner going abroad._--_Advt. in "Standard."_

* * * * *

"A CROP EXPERT."--A professional hair-dresser.

* * * * *

_New Curate_ (_who wishes to know all about his parishioners_). "Then do I understand you that your aunt is on your father's side, or your mother's?"

_Country Lad._ "Zometimes one an' zometimes the other, 'ceptin' when feyther whacks 'em both, sir!"]

* * * * *

_Mr. Spinks._ "I had such a beautiful dream last night, Miss Briggs! I thought I was in the Garden of Eden----"

_Miss Briggs_ (_with simplicity_). "And did Eve appear as she is generally represented, Mr. Spinks?"

_Mr. Spinks._ "I--I--I--I--didn't look!"]

* * * * *

* * * * *

FARM NOTES

_How to Winnow Corn._ _1st Method._--Get some corn. Get somebody who knows how to winnow it. Let him do it.

_2nd Method._--If _you_ know all about it, do it yourself.

_3rd Method, for Beginners, given in Agricultural Terms._ Place a steward near the blower, and let him drive the blower while the hopper is filled with a large wecht. (This is called the system of _Hopper_-ation.) Then let a woman with a small wecht slide down on a wheel crushing the blower with her shoes. This should be done in a neat, cleanly way until the scum has been swept with a besom through a wire screen, while another lot go on riddling, when it is the duty of the fanner to answer each riddle as it comes out. The fanner's chief work is, however, to prevent any labourer becoming too hot. When a labourer is very warm, he sits down before the fanner, who soon restores him to coolness.

_Treatment of Fowls in Winter._--Roast them.

_For the Volunteer-farmer in Winter._--Attend turnip drills.

_How to Pickle Pork._--Get the hog into a proper temperature. To bring this about make him swallow a small thermometer. This'll warm him. Rub him with paper dipped in oil, give him a uniform coating of barley, tar, syrup of squills, pitch, and gold tin-foil. Paint his head green with orange stripes, and by that time he'll be in a pretty pickle.

_Breakfast._--Always visit your poultry yard before breakfast. If unable to find a fresh egg, go to the cattle sheds. Remember that, where eggs cannot be obtained, a _yoke_ of fine oxen beaten up with a cup of tea is most invigorating.

* * * * *

_Great Lady_ (_speeding the parting guest_). "So glad you were able to come!"

_Mayoress._ "Oh, we always try to oblige!"]

* * * * *

AGRICULTURAL.--A South of England farmer writes to us to say, that he has an early harvest in view, as he has already got three ricks in his neck, and is doing very well.

* * * * *

FURTHER ILLUSTRATION OF THE MINING DISTRICTS.--_First Polite Native._
"Who's 'im, Bill?"

_Second ditto._ "A stranger!"

_First ditto._ "'Eave 'arf a brick at 'im."

* * * * *

HOW TO TREAT ROUGH DIAMONDS.--Cut them!

* * * * *

_District Visitor._ "Well, Mrs. Hodges, going to have a cup of tea?"

_Mrs. Hodges._ "Oh no, miss; we're just goin' to 'ave a wash!"]

* * * * *

"Well, Johnson, been to the doctor, as I told you?"

"Yes, m'lord."

"And what did he say was the matter with you?"

"'E says it's just _general ability_, m'lord, that's all!"]

* * * * *

SAGACITY.--_Countryman._ "Fi' pounds too much for him? He's a won'erful good sportin' daug, sir! Why, he come to a dead pint in the street, sir, close ag'in a ol' gen'leman, the other day--'fust o' September it was, sir!--an' the gen'leman told me arterwards as his name were 'Partridge'!"

_Customer._ "You don't say so!" [_Bargain struck._]

* * * * *

HORTICULTURE UP TO DATE

Stimulated by the recent achievements of a horticulturist, who is about to place on the market the "pomato," a blend of the apple and tomato, and the "plumcot," a mixture of plum and apricot, _Mr. Punch_ hopes soon to be able to announce the successful rearing of the following novelties:--

_The Cumberry._--This may be regarded either as a very long gooseberry or a very short cucumber, according to fancy. When fully ripe the skin is thin and the contents pulpy. Unripe it is like a cobble, and may be used as such. _Mr. Punch_ is disposed to think that the over-ripe cumberry will be very popular at elections, especially when eggs are scarce. The hairy variety looks like a fat caterpillar, and makes very good grub.

_The Mistletato_, a happy combination of the romantic and the domestic. This fruit, which has a very piquant flavour, has been grown in a small patch of soil, concealed, like King CHARLES, among the branches of an oak. Hence it is not surprising that the Mistletato should combine the nourishing qualities of the homely tuber with the sentimental associations of that plant which was revered by our Druid ancestors and is beloved by modern maidens. It should be a popular dish at wedding breakfasts.

_The Pumpkonion_ promises well and seems likely to combine the amplitude of the pumpkin with the pungency of the onion. _Mr. Punch_ is of opinion that a machine will have to be invented for dealing with this vegetable, as to handle it would be too severe a tax upon the cook's lachrymal glands.

_The Turniparrot_ and the _Parsniparagus_ are not yet sufficiently developed to be described with any confidence. Many others are only in an incipient state at present, but _Mr. Punch_ hopes to be able before long to announce that he has brought several to maturity, including the Collage and the Cabbyflower.

* * * * *

_Stepmother_ (_entering village school with whip_). "My boy tells me you broke your cane across his back yesterday?"

_Schoolmaster_ (_turning pale_). "Well, I--I may have struck harder than I intended, but----."

_Stepmother._ "I thought I'd make you a present of this whip. You'll find it'll last longer and do him more good!"]

* * * * *

A RIDDLE FROM COLNEY HATCH.--_Q._ Why have we reason to suppose that a bee is a rook?

_A._ Because.

* * * * *

THE ORIGIN OF RURAL DECADENCE.--Through communications corrupt good manners.

* * * * *

_Priest._ "Wilt thou have this woman to thy wedded wife?"

_Bridegroom Elect._ "Well, aw's warned aw'll hev to hev her. But aw wad rayther hev her sister!!"]

* * * * *

_Mrs. Muggles._ "Yes, my dear. But, bless ye, I'm _lovely_ and warm!"]

* * * * *

* * * * *

_The Bishop of Lichborough_ (_who has been on a visit to a sporting squire_). "Now, I wonder if your man has remembered to put in my pastoral staff?"

_William_ (_overhearing_). "Yes, my lord. I've put your lordship's gun-case into the carriage!"]

* * * * *

_Curate, after weeks of serious reading and conversation with Gaffer Stokes without much apparent result, is at last rewarded by a look of rapt exaltation on the Gaffer's face._

_Gaffer Stokes._ "A-men! That's the first wopps I see this year!"]

* * * * *

A GOOD REASON.

_Sympathetic Cousin._ "Poor boy! I'm so sorry you didn't pass your exam. What was the reason, I wonder?"

_Poor Boy_ (_also wondering_). "I can't think."]

* * * * *

_Obliging Country Butcher._ "Let me cut it into cutlets for you, ma'am,--leaving just enough bone for you to hold 'em by, while you're eating 'em!"]

* * * * *

WAGES AND WIVES.--_Philanthropic Farmer._ "Well, Tompkins, after this week, instead of paying you partly in cider, I shall give you two shillings extra wages."

_Tompkins._ "No, thanky', master; that won't do for me!"

_Farmer._ "Why, man, you'll be the gainer; for the cider you had wasn't worth two shillings!"

_Tompkins._ "Ah, but you see I drinks the cider myself; but the ow'd 'ooman 'll 'ev the two shillun'!!"

* * * * *

A PUZZLE IN HORTICULTURE.--_Little Chris._ Daddy, what makes onions?

_Daddy._ Seeds, of course.

_Little Chris._ Then what makes seeds?

_Daddy._ Onions.

_Little Chris_ (_triumphantly_). Then why don't us feed the canary on onions?

[_Discomfiture and retreat of Daddy._

* * * * *

AGRICULTURAL QUESTION.--Is a landlord who allows his farms to be over-stocked with rabbits entitled to be called a great bunnyfactor?

* * * * *

_Wife._ "Well, did ye find th' puddin' I left for you in the saucepan?"

_Collier_ (_whose favourite dish is boiled puddings_). "Oh, ay; I found it right enough. It were a stunner!"

_Wife._ "Did you take the cloth off?"

_Collier_ (_after a pause_). "Were there a cloth _on_?"]

* * * * *

_Rector_ (_short-sighted_). "Well, Richard, hard at work, eh? Let me see, you _are_ Richard, aren't you?"

_Labourer._ "No, sir, oi be John, sir. You _'ad the pleasure o' buryin'_ Richard last week, you remember, sir!"]

* * * * *

_First Tramp._ "Why don't you go in? 'E's all right. Don't you see 'im a-waggin' his tail?"

_Second Tramp._ "Yus; an' don't you see 'im a-growlin'? I dunno which end to believe!"]

* * * * *

_He._ "I hope there are no bulls in here. I can't run as fast as I used to."

_She._ "I'm told that's the worst thing to do. I think if you stand and look at them, it's enough to send them away!"]

* * * * *

_Doctor._ "Now remember, my man, three or four drops of this mixture three times a day--and _inhale_."

_Patient._ "Be I to take it in four or six hale, guv'nor?"]

* * * * *

(_By Dumb-Crambo Junior_)

Silo (Sigh low).

Judging Stock.

Best Turn Out of Horse and Cart.

Hurry For'ds (Herefords).

Threshing Machine.

The Cat 'll Show.

Live Stock.

Jerseys.

A Tuber.

Pa's-Nips.

Cab-age.]

* * * * *

IN A SOMERSETSHIRE INN.--_Mr. Fitz-Archibald Smith_ (_of London, to the Landlord_).--Is there a hair-dresser in the village? I want to be shampooed and shaved.

_Landlord._ Well, zur, I doant know much about the shampoodling, but our ostler's used to clipping horses. Would 'e like to try him?

* * * * *

FROM THE POULTRY.--When does a hen like beer? When she has a little _brood_.

* * * * *

SHOCKING BAD HUSBANDRY.--Baby-farming.

* * * * *

LATEST FROM OUR FARMYARD.--_In the Fowl House._--"Left sitting."

* * * * *

"A LITTLE LEARNING."--_Lady Tactful_ (_visiting small farmer_). I hope, John, the rain has not damaged the wheat.

_John._ Ah, my lady, some of it will never grow; the wet has _busted_ it.

_Mrs. John_ (_who is "educated"_). He should have said "_bursted_" my lady. That's what he means.

_Lady Tactful._ Never mind. I think I prefer the old-fashioned pronunciation.

* * * * *

_Amateur Gardener_ (_to goat-fancying neighbour_). "Hi, madam. One of your confounded pets has got into my garden, and is eating my bedding-plants!"

_Neighbour._ "Good gracious! _I trust they are not poisonous!_"]

* * * * *

MORE AMALGAMATION.--_Parish Councillor._ "Wull, I do voate that the two par'shes be marmaladed."

_Chairman._ "Our worthy brother councillor means, I understand, that the two parishes should be _jammed together_!"]

* * * * *

_Village Gossip._ "Did ye 'ere as owd Sally Sergeant's dead? 'Er what's bin pew-opener up to Wickleham Church nigh on fifty year."

_The Village Atheist_ (_solemnly_). "Ah! see what comes o' pew-openin'!"]

* * * * *

THE HIGHEST POSSIBLE RECORD OF CHARACTER.--_New Rector of Swaddlington_ (_to Sexton_). I see that the forge is close by the church, Grassmore. I hope that the smith is one of our friends?

_Sexton._ Why, bless 'ee, yes, sir, 'e 's the only man in all the parish as settled over the Cesarewitch.

* * * * *

HINT TO THE MANAGERS OF POULTRY SHOWS.--Exhibit some henpecked husbands.

* * * * *

A BLACK COUNTRY SYNONYM.--Ruling with a rod of iron.--Beating your wife with a poker.

* * * * *

A PERFECT CURE.--_Town Man._ "How jolly it must be, living down here in the country!"

_Country Gentleman._ "Oh, I don't know. It's rather a torpid sort of life; time passes very slowly."

_Town Man._ "Time passes slowly? You should get somebody to draw on you at three months!!"

* * * * *

THE LANGUAGE OF FLOWERS.--When the roses sweetly breathe a dew.

* * * * *

_Gallant Young Gardener._ "Oh, goo yeouw on, Miss Amy--goo yeouw on! I sha'n't mind yar noise!"]

* * * * *

THE FARMING OF THE FUTURE;

_Or, What British Agriculture is coming to._

SCENE.--_A Car on an Electric Light-railway._

TIME--_The Twentieth Century._

_First Farmer_ (_recognising Second Farmer_). Why, 'tis Muster Fretwail, surelie! didn't see it was you afore. And how be things gettin' along with _you_, sir, eh?

_Farmer Fretwail_ (_lugubriously_). 'Mong the middlin's, Muster Lackaday; 'mong the middlin's! Nothen doin' just now--nothen 't all!

_Third Farmer_ (_enviously_). Well, _you_ hevn't no call fur to cry out, neighbour! I see you've got a likely lot o' noo 'oardins comin' up all along your part o' the line. I wish mine wur arf as furrard, I know thet!

_F. Fretwail._ Ah, them "Keep yer 'air on" 's, _you_ mean, Ryemouth. I don't deny as they was lookin' tidy enough a week back. But just as I was makin' ready fur to paint up "Try it on a Billiard Ball," blamed if this yere frost didn't set in, and now theer's everything at a standstill wi' the brushes froze 'ard in the pots!

_F. Ryemouth._ 'Tis the same down with me. Theer 's a acre o' "Bunyan's Easy Boots" as must hev a noo coat, and I cann't get nothen done to 'en till th' weather's a bit more hopen like. Don' keer _'ow_ soon we hev a change, myself, I don't!

_F. Lackaday._ Nor yet me, so long as we don't 'ave no gales with it. Theer was my height-acre pasture as I planted only las' Candlemas wi' "Roopy's Lung Tonics"--wunnerful fine and tall they was too--and ivery one on 'en blowed down the next week!

_F. Fretwail._ Well, I 'ope theer wun't be no rain, neither, come to that. I know I 'ad all the P's of my "Piffler's Persuasive Pillules" fresh gold-leaved at Michaelmas, and it come on wet directly arter I done it, and reg'lar washed the gilt out o' sight an' knowledge, it did. Theer ain't no standin' up agen rain!

_F. Ryemouth._ I dunno as I wouldn't as lief hev rain as sun. My "Hanti-Freckle Salves" all blistered up and peeled afoor the summer was 'ardly begun a'most.

_F. Lackaday._ 'Tis a turr'ble 'ard climate to make 'ead against, is ourn. I've 'eard tell as some farmers are takin' to they enamelled hiron affairs, same as they used to hev when I wur a lad. I mind theer wur a crop o' "Read Comic Cagmag" as lingered on years arter the paper itself. Not as I hold with enamelling, myself--'tain't what I call 'igh farmin'--takes too much outer the land in _my_ 'pinion.

_F. Fretwail._ Aye, aye. "Rotation o' boards." Say, "Spooner's Sulphur Syrup" fur a spring crop, follered with some kind o' soap or candles, and p'raps cough lozengers, or hembrocation, or bakin' powder, if the soil will bear it, arterwards--that's the system _I_ wur reared on, and theer ain't no better, 'pend upon it!

_F. Ryemouth._ I tell 'ee what 'tis; it's time we 'ad some protection agen these yere furrin advertisements. I was travellin' along the Great Northern tother day, and I see theer was two or three o' them French boards nigh in ivery field, a downright shame an' disgrace I call it, disfigurin' the look o' the country and makin' it that ontidy--let alone drivin' honest British boards off the land. Government ought to put a stop to it; that's what _I_ say!

_F. Lackaday._ They Parliment chaps don't keer _what_ becomes of us poor farmers, they don't. Look at last General Election time. They might ha' given our boards a turn; but not they. Most o' they candidates did all their 'tisin' with rubbishy flags and balloons--made in Japan, sir, every blamed one o' them! And they wonder British agriculture don't prosper more!

_F. Ryemouth._ Speakin' o' queer ways o' hadvertisin', hev any on ye set eyes on that farm o' young FULLACRANK'S? Danged if iver _I_ see sech tom-fool notions as he's took up with in all _my_ born days!

_F. Fretwail._ Why, what hev he bin up to _now_, eh?

_F. Ryemouth._ Well, I thought I shud ha' bust myself larfin' when I see it fust. Theer ain't not a board nor a sky sign; no, nor yet a 'oarding, on the 'ole of his land!

_F. Lackaday._ Then how do he expect to get a profit out of it?--that's what _I_ want to year.

_F. Ryemouth._ You' ll 'ardly credit it, neighbours but he's been buryin' some o' they furrin grains, hoats and barley, an' I dunno what not, in little 'oles about his fields, so as to make the words, "Use Faddler's Non-farinaceous Food"--and the best on it is the darned young fool expecks as 'ow it'll all sprout come next Aperl--he do indeed, friends!

_F. Fretwail._ Flyin' in the face of Providence, I calls it. He must ha' gone clean out of his senses!

_F. Lackaday._ Stark starin' mad. I never heerd tell o' such extravagance. Why, as likely as not, 'twill all die off o' the land afore the year's out--and wheer wull he be _then_?

_F. Ryemouth._ Azackly what I said to 'en myself. "You tek my word for it," I sez, "'twun't niver come to no good. The nateral crop for these yere British Hisles," I told 'en, "is good honest Henglish hoak an' canvas," I sez, "and 'tain't the action of no sensible man, nor yet no Christian," sez I, "to go a drillin' 'oles and a-droppin' in houtlandish seeds from Canada an' Roosha, which the sile wasn't never intended to bear!"

_Farmers Fretwail and Lackaday._ Rightly spoke, neighbour Ryemouth, 'twas a true word! But theer'll be a jegement on sech new-fangled doin's, and, what's moor, you and I will live fur to see it afore we're very much older!

[_They all shake their heads solemnly as scene closes in._

* * * * *

* * * * *

* * * * *

_Serious Old Party._ "Eh, but this is a wicked world!"

_Flippant Individual._ "You are right, Mrs. Mumble. For my part, I shall be quite satisfied if I get out of it alive!"]

* * * * *

* * * * *

* * * * *

RURAL FELICITY

[This is the second Nature article that has recently arrived at
_Mr. Punch's_ offices through inadvertence. It was obviously
intended for _The Country-Side_, the new Harmsworth-Robinson
organ, which is designed to bring home to townsmen the wonders
of country life.]

Evening in the country! A Spring evening! Ah, you dweller in the close perfervid city, how I wish I could have transported you to my side yesterday, while I stood and watched the sinking fire of day (a bright impulsive fellow this sun) waving me from his Orient window.

A GLAD GOOD-NIGHT!

How I wish you could have lain near me on that pile of fresh-cut hay, redolent of clover and the scarlet vetch, lulled to sleep, it may be, by the low moaning of rats in the stack, or the melancholy hoot of the night-jar! Sleep follows swiftly, sleep such as you denizens of the crowded street can never know--sleep beneath the stars.

* * * * *

Up with the lark! Shelley's skylark! There he is, the blithe unconscious creature, hovering above the plough-share, ready to pounce upon the first unwary field-vole upturned from his

NEST IN THE LUXURIANT LOAM.

My heart is full to bursting as I pass onward into the harvest-field and watch the gleaners at their busy toil. For one thing I have my "Topical Quotations" to prepare, and am "dividing my swift mind" between the _Georgics_ of Virgil and Wordsworth's "Intimations of Immortality" for a suitable selection. Then there are the straw bonnets and rough smocks of the rustics to be sketched for the fashion-plate, and my column upon the Insanitary Condition of Birds' Nests to be compiled.

Yet how difficult to fix one's mind upon mere journalism, when on this side and on that the lithe rabbit is popping up from his "forme," and beneath their white blossoms the red strawberries lurk under every springing hedge-tuft. A glass of creamy butter-milk supplied by the smiling lass at the cottage wicket, together with a light and delicious scone

EATEN IN THE STUBBLE

under the sighing alders, has served me for my simple yet hygienic meal. And now as I watch the shepherd lead his flock of lowing kine into the pastures, the stately old bell-wether bringing up the rear, I feel that here is life indeed, and here (had the exigencies of a week-end return permitted) I could willingly have spent the remainder of my days, "the world forgetting, by the world forgot," but inexorable Fate with her iron shears forbids. I must

BACK TO THE SMOKY STREETS

once more and my half-finished essay on "Cotton-spinning in our Great Public Schools." Brief dream, farewell!

* * * * *

_Vicar's Daughter._ "Well, John, I see you are looking as young as ever."

_John._ "Yes, miss, thankyee. An' they tell me I'll soon be an octogeranium."]

* * * * *

"Oi be eighty-foive, zur."

"Dear me! You don't look it. And how old is your wife?"

"Oh, she be eighty-foive too. But she've looked it fer the last fowrty year!"]

* * * * *

* * * * *

_First Farmer._ "Aye, 'taters gets complaints now they never got in my young days."]

* * * * *

a-goin' to marry that Miss Giles arter all?"

"Well, you see I 'vised 'un to gie up matrimony, an' take to a trade."]

* * * * *

* * * * *

* * * * *

* * * * *

_Carrier._ "Try zideways, Mrs. Jones, try zideways!"

_Mrs. Jones._ "Lar' bless 'ee, John, I ain't got no zideways."]

* * * * *

MR. PUNCH'S AGRICULTURAL NOVEL

BO AND THE BLACKSHEEP.

_A Story of the Sex._

(_By_ THOMAS OF WESSEX, _Author of "Guess how a Murder feels,"
"The Cornet Minor," "The Horse that Cast a Shoe," "One in a
Turret," "The Foot of Ethel hurt her," "The Flight of the
Bivalve," "Hard on the Gadding Crowd," "A Lay o' Deceivers,"
&c._)

["I am going to give you", writes the Author of this book, "one
of my powerful and fascinating stories of life in modern
Wessex. It is well known, of course, that although I often
write agricultural novels, I invariably call a spade a spade,
and not an agricultural implement. Thus I am led to speak in
plain language of women, their misdoings, and their undoings.
Unstrained dialect is a speciality. If you want to know the
extent of Wessex, consult histories of the Heptarchy with
maps."]