Punch, Volumes 68-69

Front Cover
Mark Lemon, Henry Mayhew, Tom Taylor, Shirley Brooks, Francis Cowley Burnand, Owen Seaman
Punch Publications Limited, 1875 - Caricatures and cartoons

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Page 204 - All things are taken from us, and become Portions and parcels of the dreadful Past. Let us alone. What pleasure can we have To war with evil? Is there any peace In ever climbing up the climbing wave? All things have rest, and ripen toward the grave In silence; ripen, fall and cease: Give us long rest or death, dark death or dreamful ease.
Page 140 - Now, lads," said he to the two young men, "I will tell you that I think you will live to see the day, though I may not live so long, when railways will come to supersede almost all other methods of conveyance in this country — when mail coaches will go by railway, and railroads will become the Great Highway for the king and all his subjects. The time is coming when it will be cheaper for a working man to travel on a railway than to walk on foot.
Page 106 - There's a sweet little cherub that sits up aloft, To keep watch for the life of poor Jack!
Page 62 - ... very carefully freed from the connective tissue surrounding them. If the animal be strong, and have thoroughly recovered from the chloroform and from the operation, irritation of the peripheral stump of the anterior root causes not only contractions in the muscles supplied by the nerve, but also movements in other parts of the body indicative of pain or sensations.
Page 192 - Now stir the fire, and close the shutters fast, Let fall the curtains, wheel the sofa round, And while the bubbling and loud-hissing urn Throws up a steamy column, and the cups That cheer but not inebriate, wait on each, So let us welcome peaceful evening in.
Page 155 - And a dew was distill'd from their flowers that gave All the fragrance of summer, when summer was gone. Thus memory draws from delight, ere it dies, , An essence that breathes of it many a year ; Thus bright to my soul, as 'twas then to my eyes, Is that bower on the banks of the calm Bendemeer...
Page 58 - And grasp'd the bow, and twang'd it in his hand. Three times, with beating heart, he made essay: Three times, unequal to the task, gave way; A modest boldness on his cheek appear'd: And thrice he hoped, and thrice again he fear'd. The fourth had drawn it. The great sire with joy Beheld, but with a sign forbade the boy. His ardour straight the obedient prince suppress'd, And, artful, thus the suitor-train address'd: "O lay the cause on youth yet immature!
Page 58 - His ardour straight the obedient prince suppress'd, And, artful, thus the suitor-train address'd: "O lay the cause on youth yet immature! (For heaven forbid such weakness should endure!) How shall this arm, unequal to the bow, Retort an insult, or repel a foe? But you ! whom Heaven with better nerves has bless'd, Accept the trial, and the prize contest.

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