Summary

Various Punch, or the London Charivari…

We advised a visit to Sandy. Sandy was the hot bath merchant. He lurked in a dark barn at the end of the village, and could be found there at anytime of any day, brooding over the black cauldrons in which the baths were brewed, his Tam-o'-shanter drooped over one eye, steam condensing on his blue nose. Theoretically the hot baths were free, but in practice a franc pressed into Sandy's forepaw was found to have a strong calorific effect on the water.
So down the village on all fours, groaning like a Dutch brig in a cross-sea, went our Albert Edward.
Source: Gutenberg

Various Punch, or the London Charivari…

London was probably never richer in comic actors than at the present moment, for not only is W.H. Berry at the Adelphi, Leslie Henson at the Gaiety, Arthur Roberts at the Oxford singing his old songs, and Robert Hale and George Robey twice daily elsewhere, but in the Law Courts Playhouse Charles Darling has been lately at his very best. Dropping in there last week, during the performance of a new farce, entitled Romney's Rum 'Un, I was again fascinated by the inexhaustible wit and allusive badinage of this great little comedian, beside whose ready gagging George Graves himself is inarticulate.
Source: Gutenberg

Various Punch, or the London Charivari…

Even the War may be over by that time."
"But if it isn't we shall all be living on swedes or pea-soup, or rice-bread or all three together; and we shall have a food controller in every village, and our Committees won't be wanted."
"I beg your pardon; they'll be more wanted than ever to keep the controller straight and act as a buffer between him and the population."
"But they won't know they're a buffer, and they won't like it when some tactless person tells them. Anyhow, that's a long way off, and in the meantime we've got the land."
Source: Gutenberg

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