Summary

Various Punch, or the London Charivari…

Ink was the life-blood of British liberty, and he for one would never hesitate to spill the last drop, either in his own select periodical or in a Sunday paper for the masses. The mere fact that the feeling against ink was inaugurated by a Member of the Government automatically proved it wrong. No good could come from such a corrupt agglomeration of salary-seekers as the Coalition Ministry. Speaking as one who knew Germany from within, he would say that to put any obstacle in the way of the public expression of opinion in England was to help the foe.
Source: Gutenberg

Various Punch, or the London Charivari…

I admit that this sort of joke is the last infirmity of an uncle's otherwise noble mind. They regarded me sadly.
Then Lillah turned to Phyllis with a detached air. "Uncle James is being grand," she said, "because he doesn't know what law is."
"Don't you?" said Phyllis.
"Perhaps not," I murmured feebly. The nursery makes very small beer of the cynic. There was a moment's silence.
"You've told us wrong," said Phyllis sternly. "Daddy isn't ever wrong."
"So he's risen from his bar to be a sergeant," added Lillah, with the air of one finishing a story with a moral.
Source: Gutenberg

Various Punch, or the London Charivari…

To-day as I ascended the steps of the temple there floated down to me the voices of the priestesses chanting, evidently in a kind of frenzy, and to the air of a famous Scottish reel, this rhyme——
"Daddy is a Sergeant, a Sergeant, a Sergeant!
Daddy is a Sergeant, a Sergeant of Police."
So I opened the nursery door and went in. An uncle has no honour in his own country, and my two small nieces assaulted me immediately. Phyllis dragged me to a chair, while Lillah shrieked unrelentingly in my ear that Daddy was a sergeant.
Source: Gutenberg

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