File:Punch (1841) (14751396306).jpg

Identifier: punchv40lemo (find matches)
Title: Punch
Year: 1841 (1840s)
Authors: Lemon, Mark, 1809-1870 Mayhew, Henry, 1812-1887 Taylor, Tom, 1817-1880 Brooks, Shirley, 1816-1874 Burnand, F. C. (Francis Cowley), 1836-1917 Seaman, Owen, 1861-1936
Subjects: English wit and humor English wit and humor, Pictorial
Publisher: (London) : (Punch Publications Ltd., etc.)
Contributing Library: Lincoln Financial Foundation Collection
Digitizing Sponsor: The Institute of Museum and Library Services through an Indiana State Library LSTA Grant

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ly ever a bit of bacon between them. Corn in abundance is what he never sees except growing in the fields; and the idea of rearing poultry, and selling chickens and eggs, he would laugh at as a likely joke for him. As to being clothed by his master, he is too happy to receive a pair of breeches at the meeting of an agricultural society, for having worked on the same farm for half a century. He is fortunate, in illness, to get a bottle of stuff from the Union Doctor. The children, whom he rears with meritorious industry upon dry bread, hardly know the taste of treacle; and as to tobacco, let him work as hard as he may he never even receives a quid pro quo. What Blondin will do Next. A Rumour is afloat that, after his engagement with the Crystal Palace Company, M. Blondin means to make a mid-air voyage over London, walking on the wires of the Electric District Telegraph, which now are stretched across the Strand, and well-nigh every main street. 242 PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. (June 15, 1861.
Text Appearing After Image:
THE INDIGNATION OP OIRELAND. (through her mimbers.) What ! Oirishmen yield to the base love o lucre ? The moighty Milesians be bought and be sould ? No! though Oireland fell fiat when the Saxon forsook her, Withdrawing the base brutal help of his gould. Ist myself, ye say, offered to vote for the Budget, If his mane Galway subsidy Pam would renew ? I fling the foul calumny back, where I judge it Will stick—in their throats that can hould the tale thrue. Who dares say that I eer to a job showed a lanin—That black is the white of my deep rollin oye ? Let the dastard but sayt, and, when clare of his manin, Its meself will be kickin the ruffian skoy-hoigh. Would I durty the hand that is clare of all staining Since the days of Mac Murrough and Brian Borl ? Would I stoop the proud head, that the Saxon disdaining, Has still bid his laws, writs and bailiffs, go to ! If the purse of the Saxon was lyin afore me, Wid its cursed contints, shoinin broight on the fiure, Dye suppose that I d stoop ? By

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