File:Punch (1841) (14596387947).jpg

Identifier: punchv50lemo (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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ure Within that darkness dwelt. This oracle still plyeth, Though the oracles around—Delphis, Cumses, Libyan Amnions— Are now unhallowd ground.The fate that drove the Pythoness Erom tripod and from shrine,Still sends us to Trophonius, The future to divine. But no longer in Bceotia The cave-mouth must be sought;To the Seines bright-flowing waters Trophonius has been brought:His cave is in the Tuileries, Beset by questioners pale,With the Futures cloud about it, And the Voice behind the Veil. Non Splendidiores Vitro.In a recent Charge a west country Archdeacon says, A man often spends £100 on a beautiful memorial window. But, suggests the excellent and arch deacon, How much more good those £100 would do if dedicated to the ill-paid curatesof the parish ! We dont know. All windows let in light upon us, but all curatesdont. On the whole, Mr. Archdeacon, we think it is safer to stick tothe glazier. A Tissue of Lies.—A Eorged Bank-Note. •■■,; I;! PUNCH. OR THE LONDON* CHARIVARI
Text Appearing After Image:
AT THE TURKISH BATH. Smith (abstractedly). I sat, Brown, come and Dine with us to-dat, to meet Robinson and his Sisters. Tnn Kitnw! Come just as you are! !! No Fuss or Ceremony, BAIT FOR THE IRON HORSE. The Iron Horse, that gallant steed, To go must have the means;His food—although he wants no feed Of corn, or any beans.He grazes not, that Iron Grey, Whom never mare did foal;Nor do you for him store your hay : His provender is coaL The surface of this English ground, Coal measures underlie;Well-named, for there doth coal abound In measured quantity.Which, at our present pace, if we Continue to consume,The Horse of Iron starved will be Long ere the crack of doom. Of Englands wealth, of Englands might, Coal is the needful source;From coal our towns derive their light— To coal we owe our force.Yet do we half the world as well With light and force supply.For alien cash the coal we sell— Which that cash neer should buy. The Prodigal his candle burnt, At once at either end;From his ex

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