To feel the tiny point, and say we end
The chance of many a thousand awful scars
That flesh is heir to, ’tis a consummation
Devoutly to be wished.—Ah! soft you now,
The Vaccinator! Sir, upon thy rounds
Be my poor arms remembered!
Punch, May 28, 1881.
——:o:——
Clean Linen!
Or, The Housewife’s Soliloquy.
To wash, or not wash?—that is the question!