Summary

Various Punch, or the London Charivari…

The crêpes of Madame Bonneton are an achievement, but the pancakes of Madame Coghlan are irresistible."
"I thank you from the recesses of my heart," said Hippolyte with emotion; "but—you understand me—as the slave of Art I am compelled to forgo such pleasures."
"My friend," said M'sieur sternly, to refuse them would be an affront to the cooking of these excellent ladies. A true housewife esteems her cooking only next to her virtue. You must eat them—while they are hot."
Source: Gutenberg

Various Punch, or the London Charivari…

Nobody wants to work if there's any excuse to avoid it, and the beauty of the thing is that we can strike not only against ordinary employers, but against the raising of fares, and against the N.U.R. or the Vehicle and Transport Workers Union itself. That will be the quickest strike that has ever been struck. You can't go on banging lifts and gates and rushing about in empty buses without anybody to shove into the dirt or any thumbs to snip bits out of.
Source: Gutenberg

Various Punch, or the London Charivari…

M'sieur groaned. The Sergeant-Major, being a soldier, concealed his apprehensions. Wild thoughts of surreptitiously disposing of them in a coal-bin whirled through their minds, but Hippolyte apparently divined their thoughts.
"I regret that I must forgo the pleasure I promised myself of asking the ladies to take crêpes with me," he said. "To offer these would be a poor compliment to their superlative efforts. But there is no reason why you should not eat them here."
"I have an excellent reason," said M'sieur, stroking his waistcoat. "And the gallant Sergeant-Major, I imagine, has another."
Source: Gutenberg

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