Mr. Punch's Country Life Part 5

[Ill.u.s.tration: HEAVEN HELPS THOSE WHO HELP THEMSELVES.--

_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?"]

[Ill.u.s.tration: CONCLUSIVE

_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!!"]

[Ill.u.s.tration:

_Yorks.h.i.+re 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' c.o.o.ntry!"]

THE SWEETS OF COUNTRY LIFE

(_Depicted by a Man of Feeling_)

'Tis sweet at Summer eve to rove, When brightly s.h.i.+nes 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!

[Ill.u.s.tration: THE COUNTRY IN THE FUTURE.--_Retired Citizen_ (_to Metropolitan Friend_). "What I enjoy so much in the country is the quiet! Now here, in my garden, my boy, you don't hear a sound, 'cepting the trains!!"]

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_). "c.o.c.ks 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.

[Ill.u.s.tration: _Doctor._ "Well, Matthew, did you take those pills I sent you yesterday?"

_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._