Summary

Various Punch, or the London Charivari…

If you fly o'er plot and passion as a hunter flies a fence,
And leave panting mediocrity a hundred miles behind;
Why then you may be certain, though the thought may give you pain,
That your mother wasn't splendid, or your toil would be in vain.
An unsympathetic mother who neglects her baby boy,
Oh, she knows not what advantages she showers on his head.
Let her frown upon her infant and deprive him of his toy,
That's the training for a novelist who wishes to be read.
He had better have a sea-cook for his mother, or a gun,
Than one who, being splendid, blasts the future of her son.
Source: Gutenberg

Various Punch, or the London Charivari…

What a nice studio! small, of course, but then you don't want a large room, do you? What a quantity of pictures! How you must have worked! If you send in so many, one of them's sure to get in, isn't it? Still, I should have thought that if you had painted only one or two, and taken great pains with them, it might—oh, most of them are your friend's? and only these two yours? Well, no doubt you are quite right not to be too ambitious. Why, this is quite charming—really quite charming, isn't it, Eugenia?
Source: Gutenberg

Various Punch, or the London Charivari…

Her husband lends his garden, her daughter writes all the letters, makes all the purchases, and, with her young friends, completes all the arrangements, whilst the Invalid Lady herself looks on in occasional disapproval of the work that others are doing. When the great day arrives, and all the company of intending purchasers is gathered together in the garden, the Invalid is drawn gently into their midst in a long, wheeled chair. She is robed in a tea-gown of exquisite taste and design, the prevailing colour of which may be the new "Eau de Carmes," mixed with ivory-coloured chiffons.
Source: Gutenberg

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