Summary

Various Punch, or the London Charivari…

Why the mischief don't they leave a man in peace and quietness on a hot afternoon like this? Here am I, routed out of a comfortable seat to go and drive a confounded White Rabbit, Sir! Idiotic, I call it!
The Curate. Pardon me, Colonel KEMPTON; but if you object to the Rabbit, I would not at all mind undertaking it myself—and you could take my Monkey
The Colonel. Thanks—but I won't deprive you. A Rabbit is quite responsibility enough for me!
The Curate (to himself, disappointed) . He's afraid of a poor harmless Monkey—and he an Army man, too!
Source: Gutenberg

Various Punch, or the London Charivari…

Carefully he held the needle to the light, carefully he wetted and trimmed his cotton to a point. And for ten stricken minutes we saw him miss the eye of the needle, sometimes by an inch, sometimes by a hair's breadth. It was a thrilling contest between obstinacy and evasiveness. I was fascinated by it. Every time, as the cotton neared the eye, my heart slowly ascended into my mouth, only to drop with a fatal swiftness into my boots as the triumphant needle scored another victory. I began to imitate FUSSELL's every movement. I threaded invisible needles by the gross with imperceptible cotton.
Source: Gutenberg

Various Punch, or the London Charivari…

Because why waste three weeks on writing a Play, when it takes only three years to compose a Novel?
Because Critics who send articles to Magazines inviting one to contribute to the Stage, have no right to dictate to us.
Because a fairly successful Novel means five hundred pounds, and a fairly successful Play yields as many thousands—why be influenced by mercenary motives?
Because all Novelists hire their pens in advance for years, and have no time left for outside labour.
Source: Gutenberg

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