Summary

Various Punch, or the London Charivari…

You catch a santamingo and you'll get peace of mind.
You won't find buried treasures, you won't get sudden luck,
But things'll just go smoothly that used to get somehow stuck—
The little things that matter, the trumpery things that please,
You catch your santamingo and you're always sure of these.
You don't get thrones and kingdoms, you don't turn great or good,
But you know you're just in tune with things, you know you're understood,
And wherever you chance to be is home and any old time's the best
When you've got your santamingo to keep your heart at rest.
Source: Gutenberg

Various Punch, or the London Charivari…

How he ever survived five years of military service without being shot for persistently carrying his hands in his pockets while on parade, to the detriment of good order and military discipline, I can never understand. Surely some Brass-hat, inspecting Rankin's regiment, must have noticed that Rankin's hands were in his pockets when he should have been presenting arms? I can only presume that they all loved Rankin, and love is blind. Well, he is quite a good chap. I like him myself.
Source: Gutenberg

Various Punch, or the London Charivari…

MY RAT.
He visits me at least once every day. His favourite time is the hour of tea, when the family and staff may be expected to be at home; but sometimes he honours us with an additional call at the luncheon hour. He emerges from his deep hole beneath an ivy root, takes the air up and down the paths of my rockery, glances in at the drawing-room window, passes on to the back premises, and so home.
Source: Gutenberg

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