TRANSCRIBER'S NOTE.

Some pages of this work have been moved from the original sequence to enable the contents to continue without interruption. The page numbering remains unaltered.

PUNCH LIBRARY OF HUMOUR

Edited by J. A. Hammerton

Designed to provide in a series of volumes, each complete in itself, the cream of our national humour, contributed by the masters of comic draughtsmanship and the leading wits of the age to "Punch," from its beginning in 1841 to the present day.

MR. PUNCH WITH THE CHILDREN

Much Ado.—"Mamma-a-a! Boo-hoo! We's crying! Tum up 'tairs an' see what's de matter wiv us!"

MR. PUNCH

WITH

THE CHILDREN

AS PICTURED BY
PHIL MAY, GEORGE DU MAURIER, CHARLES KEENE,
JOHN LEECH, GORDON BROWNE, L. RAVEN-HILL,
CHARLES PEARS, LEWIS BAUMER, DAVID WILSON, TOM
BROWNE, J. BERNARD PARTRIDGE, C. E. BROCK, TOM
WILKINSON, HILDA COWHAM, AND OTHER HUMORISTS
IN 175 ILLUSTRATIONS
PUBLISHED BY ARRANGEMENT WITH
THE PROPRIETORS OF "PUNCH"
THE EDUCATIONAL BOOK CO. LTD.

The Punch Library of Humour

Twenty-five volumes, crown 8vo, 192 pages fully illustrated
LIFE IN LONDON
COUNTRY LIFE
IN THE HIGHLANDS
SCOTTISH HUMOUR
IRISH HUMOUR
COCKNEY HUMOUR
IN SOCIETY
AFTER DINNER STORIES
IN BOHEMIA
AT THE PLAY
MR. PUNCH AT HOME
ON THE CONTINONG
RAILWAY BOOK
AT THE SEASIDE
MR. PUNCH AFLOAT
IN THE HUNTING FIELD
MR. PUNCH ON TOUR
WITH ROD AND GUN
MR. PUNCH AWHEEL
BOOK OF SPORTS
GOLF STORIES
IN WIG AND GOWN
ON THE WARPATH
BOOK OF LOVE
WITH THE CHILDREN

EDITOR'S NOTE

In the order of our Library "Mr. Punch with the Children" comes last, yet, so continual and sincere has been the interest of the breezy little man in the children, we might well have placed this volume first. The Punch pictures, stories and jests that are concerned with the young folk are almost inexhaustible. The present collection, though containing the cream of them, comes very far indeed from reproducing them all, or even fifty per cent. For every notable artist and writer who has been much associated with Punch since 1841 has had something to say or to illustrate of the humours of child life. If genius be the power to be a child again at will, we can understand this abiding interest in the doings of the children. Mr. Punch himself resembles Peter Pan, for he has never grown up. The years roll by, but the jolly little hunchback remains as young as ever.

The variety of individuality in the children, to whom we are here introduced, is noteworthy. In the days of Leech, downright impudence seems to have been a characteristic of the young; to-day it would seem children are better mannered, even if the enfant terrible is still thriving and likely to do so. There are nice children here, and naughty ones; clever and dull children; pretty and ugly children—the mischievous are chiefly memories of last generation! Phil May's children are all clearly of the "gutter snipe" order, in which he delighted, full of character and a somewhat pathetic humour; but how clean and sweet and lovable are Du Maurier's or Mr. Lewis Baumer's! Mr. Raven-Hill seems to be attracted somewhat in the same direction as Phil May; but all are interesting, and their sayings and doings are eminently worthy to be thus permanently gathered into one volume.

Boy (looking forward to a party in the evening). "Oh, mummy, baby is naughty! He has taken two things off the calendar, and made it to-morrow!"

MR. PUNCH WITH THE CHILDREN

A STUDY IN EXPRESSION

A Serious Matter.—Grandfather (to Miss Pansy, who is somewhat flushed and excited). What's the matter, my pet?

Miss Pansy (aged eight). Oh, grandpa, me and my kitten have been having the most awful row. We've often quarrelled before and made it up again, but this time we're not on speaking terms.

Bobbie (dictating letter to his sister, whom he has "squared" into writing for him). "Dear Miss Brown, please xcuse Bobbie for not bean at school sinse Tewsday has he as add twothake on Tewsday and on Wednesday he broke is harm and he ad to go to a party yesterday afternoon. If he does not come to-morrow it will be because a boy thrue a stoan at is i.—Yours trooly, Bobbie's mother."

Presence of Mind.—Little Girl (who has been disturbed by a mouse, in a stage-whisper to her sleeping sister). "Wake up! Oh, wake up and mew, Amy; mew for your life!!"

UNIMAGINATIVE

Auntie. "Do you see the hair in this old brooch, Cyril? It was your great-grandfather's."

Cyril. "I say, Auntie, he didn't have much!"

Auntie. Well, Effie, did you enjoy your party last night?

Effie. Very much, thank you, auntie.

Auntie. And I suppose mamma was there to look after you?

Effie. Oh no! Mamma and I don't belong to the same set!

NICE NEPHEW!

Tommy. "Talking of riddles, Uncle, do you know the difference between an apple and a elephant?"

Uncle (benignly). "No, my lad, I don't."

Tommy. "You'd be a smart chap to send out to buy apples, wouldn't you?"

A Precautionary Measure.—"Now go to school, and be a good boy. And mind you don't use any rude words!"

"Rude words! Tell me a few, mummy, and then I shall know, you know!"

A "CONSCIENTIOUS OBJECTOR"

Governess. "Now, just one more subtraction sum——"

Dolly. "Oh, Miss Crawford, I don't fink mummie would let me do any more of those sums, 'cause in them you borrow ten and pay back only one, and that's cheating!"

A GREAT AMBITION

Little Girl (watching her mother fixing hatpins through her hat). "When will I be old enough, mummy, to have holes made in my head to keep my hat on?"

Rehearsal for Private Theatricals on Boxing-Day.—Master Brown (leading tragedian, who has been studying a fearful blood-curdling old melodrama, entering suddenly). "Here are the letters. Two million pounds is the price of my silence!"

Walking Home from the Pantomime.—Little Chris (who usually goes to bed very early). Mamma, have all the angels been to Drury Lane to-night?

Mamma. No, darling? Why?

Little Chris (pointing to the stars). 'Cause they've kept the lamps up there lighted so late.

Our Christmas Tea.—Unregenerate Youth. "Pass the seedy caike!" Vicar's Daughter. "If——? If——?" Unregenerate Youth. "If 'e don't I'll shove 'im in the faice!"

THE PROBLEM.

Samuel. "Muvver, does a hen lay an egg when it likes or must it?"

A Grand-Daughter of Eve.—Mamma (to Molly, who has scratched and bitten her French nurse, and who won't be sorry for her behaviour). "Oh, Molly, don't you know who it is puts such wicked thoughts into your head?" Molly. "Ah, yes, the scratching! But to bite Félicie was quite my own idea!"

Rogues Falling Out.—Mamma. What is baby crying for, Maggie?

Maggie. I don't know.

Mamma. And what are you looking so 'ndignant about?

Maggie. That nasty, greedy dog's been and took and eaten my 'punge-take!

Mamma. Why, I saw you eating a sponge-cake a minute ago!

Maggie. O—that was baby's!

A Scientific Nursery Definition.—Little Algy Muffin. What's the meaning of bric-à-brac, that mamma was talking about to Colonel Crumpet?

Little Chris Crumpet. Those things we mustn't play bricks with, a-fear we'll break them.

Poetry for Schoolboys.—Little Tommy Tender, who received a flogging the week before his holidays, says his feelings were the contrary of those felt by the poet, when he penned the touching line—

"My grief lies onward, and my joy behind."

Logical.—Little Bobby (whose mamma is very particular, and is always telling him to wash his face and hands). "Mummy dear! I do wish I was a little black boy." Mamma. "My dear Bobby, you generally are." Little Bobby. "Oh, I mean really black. Then you wouldn't see when I was dirty."

EVERYTHING CAN BE EXPLAINED

Cissie (who has never seen an Archdeacon before). "Dick, that old clergyman has got gaiters on. What does it mean when a clergyman wears gaiters?"

Dick (who knows everything). "Oh, it means that he belongs to the cyclist corps!"

"WHAT MAISIE KNEW"

Kind Aunt. "You needn't be afraid of my little pug, Maisie. He won't bite you."

Maisie. "No, auntie. But he might kick!"

Bobby. "Do you know what daddy calls you, Mr. Tovey?"

Mr. Tovey. "No Bobby. What is it?"

Bobby. "He calls you Port Arthur, 'cause you take so long to surrender!"

Little Girl (to mother, who has just read notice). "I suppose, mother, it doesn't mention which half of the poor thing we are to look for?"

Juvenile Geography.—Governess. The earth moves round the sun ... it takes a whole year to complete the round ... and this accounts for the four seasons. What are the four seasons of the year, Phyllis?

Phyllis (aged five). This year, next year, sometime, never.

"It's a Wise Child that knows its own Father."—Grace. Harold, why did pa call that Mr. Blowhard a liar?

Harold. 'Cos he's smaller than pa!

A Little Learning.—Teacher. And who was Joan of Arc?

Scholar. Please, sir, Noah's wife.

A Little Stepmother.—Uncle. Hullo! Dot, got a new doll?

Little Miss Dot. Hush, uncle, don't speak too loud. She is not one of my own, but belonged to Millie Simpson, who was cruel to her and 'bandoned her, so I have 'dopted her; but I don't want her to know, because I mean to make no difference between her and my own dollies.

A POSER

Katie (in consternation). "Oh, mother, how will Santa Claus do about that poor man's stockings?"

The Return Invitation.—"Please, Mrs. Subbubs, mamma says she'll be glad if you'll come to tea on Monday." "With pleasure, Bessie. Tell your mother it's really too kind——" "Oh, no! mamma says she'll be glad when it's over."

"Did our hat-rack walk about and have only two pegs, once, auntie?"

Stable Talk.—The General. "That's a funny sort of horse you've got there, Cuthbert." Cuthbert. "Yes, gran'pa. You see he's been 'eating his head off' all the winter!"

Severe Mother. "You naughty boy! How dare you tell such stories? Aren't you ashamed of yourself for being a little liar?" Injured Son. "Well, mother, 't ain't my fault. Father gave me a awful thrashing the other day for having spoken the truth." Mother. "What do you mean?" Son. "Why, when I told you that father had come home quite drunk the night before!"

"IN STRANGE ATTIRE"

"Nurse! Nurse! Bobby's out of bed, and running about in his bananas!"

PROOF

"You won't go in that dark room alone by yourself, Tommy."

"Oh! won't I? You just come with me, and see me do it!"

INCONTROVERTIBLE

"And how old are you, my little man?"

"I'm not old at all. I'm nearly new!"

The Force of Classic Teaching.—Master. Now, boys, what is Hexham famous for?

Binks Minor. Making the hexameter, sir.

[Waits afterwards.

Proverbs Revised.—"One is better than two." Mother. You are a very naughty little girl!

Little Girl (after some thought). Aren't you glad I wasn't twins, mummy?

MISUNDERSTOOD

Mild Old Gentleman rescues a bun which child has dropped in the mud.

Child (all aglow with righteous indignation). "That's my bun!"

True Sentiment.—"I'm writing to Mrs. Montague, Georgie—that pretty lady you used to take to see your pigs. Haven't you some nice message to send her?"

"Yes, mummie; give her my love, and say I never look at a little black pig now without thinking of her!"

Chemist. "Pills, eh?" (Emphasising question) "Anti-bilious?"

Child (readily). "No, sir; uncle is!"

Mother. "Now, dear, why don't you run away and give grandpa a kiss?" Child (somewhat nonplussed by grandpapa's moustache and beard). "I don't see any place for it, mamma!"

"Sauce for the Goose," &c.—Ethel. "Mummy dear, why did you tell Richard you 'weren't at home' just now?" (Pause.) "Mummy, I mean——" Mamma. "When Sir Fusby Dodderidge called? Why, Ethel dear, because he bores me." Ethel. "Oh!" (After thoughtfully considering the matter with regard to her governess). "Then may I say I'm not at home when Miss Krux calls to-morrow? for she bores me awfully?"

At the Rink.—Little Girl. "Oh, Captain Sprawler, do put on your skates, and show me the funny figures you can make." Captain S. "My dear child, I'm only a beginner. I can't make any figures." Little Girl. "But Mabel said you were skating yesterday, and cut a ridiculous figure!"

A Little Knowledge.—Daisy (who has been studying Chrysanthemums).—Maisy, do you know what's a Double Begonia?

Maisy (who has been studying the Classics).—"Double Big-onia"? Yes! Of course, it's the plural of one big onion.

Maidenly Etiquette.—Little Chris (ætat eight). I've a birthday party on Thursday, Evie. I should like you to come.

Little Evie (ætat nine). I should love to, dear.

Little Chris. But I couldn't, you know, unless you asked me to tea first.

In the Library.—Tommy. How beautifully those books is binded!

Little Dot. No, Tommy, that's wrong. You mustn't say "binded"; you should say, "are bounded."

Superlative Assurance.—Papa (To Little Chris). I can't quite understand you. Was it Mr. Jones, or Mr. David Jones, or Mr. Griffith Jones, whom you met?

Little Chris (stoutly). All I know is, it was the third eldest Mr. Jones.

Mabel (stroking kitten, a new present). "Mother, kitty's so hot! Ought she to sit so near the fire?" (Kitten purrs.) "Oh, mother, listen! She's beginning to boil!"

A Virtue of Necessity.—Aunt Maria. What a good little boy to leave your little friends to come with a poor old auntie like me.

Master Douglas. Oh, mother always makes us do nasty things and things we don't like.

Master Tommy's Receipts.—(The Fair Weather Barometer.) This is a pleasing and simple experiment. The mercury is removed, and divided in equal portions between the cat, the parrot next door, and the interior of grandpapa's forty-guinea repeater. This may cause some local disturbance, but the barometer, relieved of undue pressure, and set at "very dry," may be relied on to indicate, without further attention, permanent fair weather.

At the Board School.—Inspector. Now, can any of you children state what is likely to be the future of China?

One Maiden (after a pause). Please sir, father says that China's like him.

Inspector. Like him! What do you mean?

The Maiden. Sure to be broken by the force of circumstances.

[Class dismissed immediately.

AN INNOCENT HINT

Auntie. "What is Nellie's nose for?"

Nellie (doubtfully). "To smell with."

Auntie. "And what is Nellie's mouth for?"

Nellie (cautiously). "To eat with."

Auntie. "And what are Nellie's ears for?"

Nellie (confidently). "Ear-rings."

A Little Knowledge!—Miss Tomboy. Mamma, I think those French women were beastly rude.

Mother. You mustn't speak like that of those ladies, it's very wrong. And how often have I told you not to say "beastly"?

Miss Tomboy. Well, they were rude. They called me a little cabbage (mon petit chou). The next time they do that I shall call them old French beans.

Soliloquy.—"I should like that engine. Can't afford it myself. They won't buy it for me at home—too soon after Christmas. Must go in and ask the girl to put it aside for me till next time I have the croup or something; then mother 'll buy it me!

"TOO CLEVER BY HALF"

Tommy and Johnnie were boys at school,

Tommy was clever, but Johnnie a fool;

Tommy at lessons was sharp and bright,

Johnnie could never do anything right.

Genius often is known to fail;

Tommy turned forger, and went to jail.

Johnnie, though slow as he well could be,

Plodded away and became M.P.

"Conservation of Tissue."—Uncle. "Well, Tommy, you see I'm back; are you ready? What have I to pay for, miss?" Miss. "Three buns, four sponge cakes, two sandwiches, one jelly, five tarts, and——" Uncle. "Good gracious, boy! Are you not ill?" Tommy. "No, uncle; but I'm thirsty."

Benevolent Old Gentleman. "Now then, little boy. What do you mean by bullying that little girl? Don't you know it's very cruel?"

Rude Little Boy. "Garn! wot's the trouble? She's my Sweetheart!"

Grandpapa. "Well little lady, will you give me a lock of that pretty hair of yours?" Marjory. "Yes, granpa'; but"—(hesitating)—"I don't fink one lock would be enough, would it?"