HORTICULTURE UP TO DATE
Stimulated by the recent achievements of a horticulturist, who is about to place on the market the "pomato," a blend of the apple and tomato, and the "plumcot," a mixture of plum and apricot, Mr. Punch hopes soon to be able to announce the successful rearing of the following novelties:—
The Cumberry.—This may be regarded either as a very long gooseberry or a very short cucumber, according to fancy. When fully ripe the skin is thin and the contents pulpy. Unripe it is like a cobble, and may be used as such. Mr. Punch is disposed to think that the over-ripe cumberry will be very popular at elections, especially when eggs are scarce. The hairy variety looks like a fat caterpillar, and makes very good grub.
The Mistletato, a happy combination of the romantic and the domestic. This fruit, which has a very piquant flavour, has been grown in a small patch of soil, concealed, like King Charles, among the branches of an oak. Hence it is not surprising that the Mistletato should combine the nourishing qualities of the homely tuber with the sentimental associations of that plant which was revered by our Druid ancestors and is beloved by modern maidens. It should be a popular dish at wedding breakfasts.
The Pumpkonion promises well and seems likely to combine the amplitude of the pumpkin with the pungency of the onion. Mr. Punch is of opinion that a machine will have to be invented for dealing with this vegetable, as to handle it would be too severe a tax upon the cook's lachrymal glands.
The Turniparrot and the Parsniparagus are not yet sufficiently developed to be described with any confidence. Many others are only in an incipient state at present, but Mr. Punch hopes to be able before long to announce that he has brought several to maturity, including the Collage and the Cabbyflower.
All's Well that Ends Well.—
Stepmother (entering village school with whip). "My boy tells me you broke your cane across his back yesterday?"
Schoolmaster (turning pale). "Well, I—I may have struck harder than I intended, but——."
Stepmother. "I thought I'd make you a present of this whip. You'll find it'll last longer and do him more good!"
A Riddle from Colney Hatch.—Q. Why have we reason to suppose that a bee is a rook?
A. Because.
The Origin of Rural Decadence.—Through communications corrupt good manners.
