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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/33600-8.txt b/33600-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..0ec31dc --- /dev/null +++ b/33600-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,1903 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Punch, or the London Charivari. Volume 93, +September 10, 1887, by Various + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Punch, or the London Charivari. Volume 93, September 10, 1887 + +Author: Various + +Release Date: September 1, 2010 [EBook #33600] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PUNCH *** + + + + +Produced by Neville Allen, Malcolm Farmer and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + + + + + PUNCH, + + OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. + + VOLUME 93. + + SEPTEMBER 10, 1887. + + * * * * * + +STRANGE ADVENTURES OF ASCENA LUKINGLASSE. + +(_By_ PHIL UPPES, _Author of "An Out-of-Luck Young Man," "Jack and Jill +went up the Hill," "The Bishop and his Grandmother," &c._) + +ASCENA'S NARRATIVE. + +THE story which I have to tell is more than strange. It is so terrible, +so incredible, so entirely contrary to all that any ordinary reader of +the _London Journal_ or the "penny dreadfuls" has ever heard of, that +even now I have some doubt in telling it. I happen, however, to know it +is true, and so does my husband. My husband will come in presently with +his narrative. There! that ought to make you curious. A very good +commencement. + +My early life was uneventful. I was a foundling. I was left with two old +ladies (I fancy I may work them up some day into "character" sketches) +by a perfect gentleman, who, after giving them £200, went away the next +morning to Vienna for ever. He left with these two old ladies a little +wardrobe full of clothes, but there was not a mark, nor so much as an +initial, upon a single thing. They had all been cut out with a sharp +pair of scissors. + +This again ought to excite your curiosity. Bear it in mind. Mysterious +parentage--no mother, no marks, and father gone to Vienna for ever. + +The two old ladies kept a school, in which I first was a scholar, then a +teacher. There I remained until I was seventeen, when I was tall and +strong for my age, and looked more like three or four and twenty. One +day one of the old ladies said to me-- + +"Now, my dear, I will tell you what we are going to do. We are going to +sell the school, and buy a little cottage at Bognor. It doesn't face the +sea, and just holds two. So, as we have considered you more or less our +own daughter, we are going to kick you out. Now don't let's talk any +more about it to-day, but tell us to-morrow at breakfast, like a dear +good girl, that we are going to do what you wish." + +"I shall tell you to-morrow," I answered, firmly. "I'll pretend to think +the matter over with all my might and main, until to-morrow morning, and +then give you an answer as solemnly weighed, and as carefully set out, +as a Saturday afternoon essay." + +So I was kicked out. + +I became a governess in the household of Mrs. COWSTREAM. That household +consisted of the master, whose manner was what old ladies in +Lincolnshire call "rampageous," the children, who were, beyond doubt, +hopelessly dull, and the mistress, who was colourless. + +Nothing particularly happened save my dismissal (after receiving a +salary of about a thousand to twelve-hundred a year) within six months. +With about four-hundred pounds in hand I went to the Charing Cross +Hotel. + +I feel I am a little plot-less. So far: foundling, old ladies at Bognor, +aimless engagement by Mrs. COWSTREAM and advertisement for the Charing +Cross Hotel. All good in their way, but not quite enough. I want an +incident. I have it. + +Having untold gold, I thought I would buy some gloves in the Tottenham +Court Road. I entered an omnibus, was much struck by an old woman who +sat next me, bought the gloves, was arrested as a thief for passing +false money and saved from penal servitude for life by old woman. Come, +there's action for you! Still, I don't know why it is, but we don't seem +to get much "forrader." + +The old woman hurried me about from place to place feeding me simply on +grapes and bonbons. For some reason I was not allowed to know where I +was. I didn't want to, and not caring a brass-farthing for the selfish +old ladies at Bognor, it mattered nothing to me whether they heard from +me or not. After a time the old woman asked me to sign this with my +blood. + +"In consideration of seven pounds a week, I agree to sell my dreams +between sunset and sunrise, the payment ceasing on my death, and my +dreams, if any, immediately becoming only, and unconditionally my own." + +I broke out laughing and signed it. Then the old woman said:-- + +"I am old enough to be your mother, and I am sure you know I feel kindly +towards you. I am not entirely my own mistress--think well of me if you +can." + +Then placing by my side a little bottle of champagne, potted meats, +Devonshire cream, and dainty biscuits of various kinds, she left me. The +next day I was kicked out and carried in a carriage to Dawlish. I had a +nice little dinner--tender beefsteak, new potatoes, asparagus and +spinach, a bottle of sound port and a ripe stilton. After this, somehow +or other, I had a restless night. I was tormented with strange dreams in +which appeared a person whom I had never seen in my life. Certainly not +that I can remember. He was an old man wearing an immense opal on his +right-hand little finger. I had never seen such an opal before. The +dream was confused, I can only give these facts about it. + +Let's see how I am getting on. Mysterious parentage. School life. Old +woman in omnibus, ghastly-comical agreement, heavy dinner and consequent +nightmare. Is that all? No, I have forgotten the advertisement for the +Charing Cross Hotel. All told, I can't say that there is much in my +story. Must get on. More heavy dinners, more nightmares. Went to +Brighton. Saw Doctor who said, "Your nerves are out of order, you are +suffering from a malady called Incipient Detearia. What do you drink?" + +"Nothing but port, maraschino, and champagne." + +"Quite right. Persevere. I am going away for a fortnight. Continue your +diet, and, when I return, I will come and see you again. By that time +your malady will have reached an acute stage. By the way, do you ever +eat?" + +"Not as much as I drink. I sometimes have a plate of turtle soup, but +chiefly as an excuse for a glass of punch." + +"Quite so. Good day." + +After this, my dreams became more and more confused, and I grew quite +ill. Then I met a gentleman at the _table d'hôte_, called Captain +CHARLES. He was most kind, asked me on board his yacht, and, when we had +got to Dieppe, said,-- + +"Miss ASCENA, I think we both understand each other. I am afraid I have +done very wrong in kidnapping you. Well, now, I am going to put a +question to you, straight and fair. When the yacht slipped anchor at +Brighton, I had a marriage-licence in our names, in a morocco case in my +pocket, upon which any clergyman on the Continent is bound to act. It's +no Gretna-Green business, I can assure you." + +"I'll talk about it this afternoon, if I am well enough," I said, +holding on to a rope (it was very rough), and, feeling myself turning +deadly pale. + +"Are you married already?" he asked, with a something like a choking in +his mouth. + +"No, no, no," I cried. "I like you very much." + +I got out of the general embarrassment by fainting away until I found +myself in the Hotel Royal, Dieppe. + +Again I pause to say that I fancy somehow I am making a mess of this +story. To my list I have added an absolutely pointless and superfluous +case of kidnapping, which would be unpleasant were it not ridiculous. + +Well, the Doctor came, and said I was to have a large glass of port wine +and a small glass of beef tea every ten minutes. This did me good. After +a few hours of this treatment, feeling more communicative, I told +Captain CHARLES all I have written here. I also explained to him my +difficulty in carrying on my tale without a _collaborateur_. + +He stooped over me, kissed me gently on the forehead, and said-- + +"Never mind, dearest. I will send for a curious old man from Strasburg, +and have myself a shot at the story. Two pens are better than one." + +I could only wonder how it would all end, and, vaguely hope for the +best. + +CAPTAIN CHARLES' NARRATIVE. + +My name is ALBERT CHARLES. I have a curious old friend who lives at +Strasburg, called OUTHOUSE. I am CHARLES, his friend. I wrote to +OUTHOUSE and told him Miss LUKINGLASSE'S story--of course, in +unscientific language. He replied, it was deeply interesting, and he +would come to me at once. He arrived, and immediately performed the old +"drop of ink trick," where, it will be remembered, a chap is made to +describe what he sees in a little writing-fluid. + +Then OUTHOUSE turned to me with a strangely solemn face. + +"We have got our finger," said he, "on the tarantula in his hole, the +viper in his lair, the _pieuvre_ in his cave. Such monsters should not +be allowed to live." + +I was bewildered. We made our way from Newhaven to Chislehurst. We +called upon the old man with the opal, of whom we had so often talked. +He trembled. OUTHOUSE seemed to swell to twice his natural height. Then +the old chap with the opal appeared to wither under his gaze. Then he +changed to all manner of colours, and literally exploded. He went off +with a feeble bang, like a cheap firework. Not waiting to pick up his +pieces, we returned to Dieppe, collared the omnibus old woman (whom we +found on the point of strangling ASCENA), and got her sent to prison, +where she very properly committed suicide to save us further +embarrassment. After these preliminaries had been successfully +accomplished, I am pleased to say that ASCENA enjoyed peaceful dreams +and sweet repose. + +There now! I have cleared up things pretty well, and don't think it bad +for a first attempt. + +ASCENA'S NARRATIVE. + +I am married to Captain CHARLES, and OUTHOUSE is to live with us for +ever. This is pleasant. I am a little disappointed that circumstances +over which I have no control should prevent me from telling you why I +was a foundling, what was done with my juvenile wardrobe, why my father +never returned from Vienna, what on earth became of my dreams when I +sold them to somebody or other for a pound a day--in fact, what it is +all about. You will say that I am a fraud, a mistake, an unconsidered +trifle. You will be right. Mrs. Captain CHARLES is very stupid and +commonplace. Alas! there has been a great falling off since the days of +ASCENA LUKINGLASSE! + + * * * * * + +[Illustration: A PARVENU. + +(THE COMING ARISTOCRACY OF MIND.) + +_He._ "CHARMING YOUTH, THAT YOUNG BELLAMY--SUCH A REFINED AND CULTIVATED +INTELLECT! WHEN YOU THINK WHAT HE'S _RISEN_ FROM, POOR FELLOW, IT REALLY +DOES HIM CREDIT!" + +_She._ "WHY, WERE HIS PEOPLE--A--INFERIAH!" + +_He._ "WELL, YES. HIS GRANDFATHER'S AN EARL, YOU KNOW, AND HIS UNCLE'S A +BISHOP; AND HE _HIMSELF_ IS HEIR TO AN OLD BARONETCY WITH EIGHTY +THOUSAND A YEAR!"] + + * * * * * + +A TALE OF TERROR. + +HE sat, or rather grovelled, amongst a pile of daily newspapers. His +eyes were wilder, much wilder, than the Wild West of BUFFALO-BILL, his +hair was as dishevelled as that of an infuriated Irish M.P. after an +All-night Sitting. He looked as mad as a hatter. + +"What ails you?" I inquired, sympathetically, soothingly. For all +answer--as the ebulliently sentimental she-novelist saith--he pointed to +the pell-mell pile of morning papers. + +"Poor fellow!" said I. "Have you then been trying to understand Sir +HENRY ROSCOE'S erudite Address to the British Association?" + +He shook his head emphatically. + +"Or to make head or tail, flesh, fowl, or good red herring of one of +AUBERON HERBERT'S acidulous jeremiads?" + +Again he shook his head, and tore his hair at the same time. + +"Or to learn from MATTHEW ARNOLD'S moony meanderings, complacent +assumptions, and tart imputations, what is the real nature of his +favourite, quiet, reasonable person, + +'Asperitatis et invidiæ corrector et iræ?'" + +Once more that action of decided dissent. + +"Then perhaps you have been trying to find the 'sweet reasonableness,' +and the invaluable 'dry light' of Science in Professor TYNDALL'S furious +fulminations from the Alps?" + +"Nay, nay, not so," he sobbed, insanely. + +"You may have been endeavouring to reconcile all Mr. GLADSTONE'S +Home-Rule utterances during the last ten years, to identify the Mr. +BRIGHT of to-day with the People's Tribune of forty years syne, to +measure the motives of Mr. CHAMBERLAIN, or appraise the intrinsic +importance of JESSE, 'the Member for Three Acres and a Cow?'" + +"Alas, no!" + +"Humph! You cannot possibly have been so foolish as to venture the +brain-dizzying dangers of a course of the 'Thunderer's' tempestuous +Home-Rule leaders?" + +He had not, and intimated as much, mournfully. + +"Dear me! Desperate man, _do_ not say that you have been trying to +analyse the authoritative 'Analyses' of this year's County Cricketing, +to test their apportionment of champion honours, or track out their +distracting decimals to their last hidden lair!" + +"Worse than that--far worse!" he moonily muttered. + +"You alarm me, rash man!" I cried. "Can it possibly be that from a +comparison of the works of the (Sporting) Prophets you have foolishly +essayed to spot the winner of the coming St. Leger?" + +"No such luck," said he, with a shudder. + +I drew near to him, and whispered low in his ear-- + +"Have you--_have_ you been seeking the meaning of the verses of some +peer-poet in the _Morning Post_?" + +"Would--_would_ it were but that," he groaned, picking a single straw +from the truss or so that stuck porcupine-quill-wise in his tangled fell +of hair. + +"I have it!" I cried. "You have an attack of veritable 'Whitmania,' +arising from a too long indulgence in the intoxicating yet enervating +flow of Swinburnian superlatives?" + +"The deuce a bit of it," he snapped, testily. + +I was growing impatient, and inclined "to give it up." + +"Oh! this is worse than ARGYLL on Political Economy, or a Double +Acrostic!" I grumbled, angrily. "What in the name of Eleusis _have_ you +been up to?" + +"_Listen!_" he whispered, placing his lips close to my ears; "listen, +and marvel if you may; aid me if you can. _I have been trying, by a +comparison of the comments thereupon in the various party papers, to +understand the real significance of a_ BYE-ELECTION!!!" + +"Miserable man!" I gasped, "that way indeed Madness lies. Know you not +that human imbecility in those identical comments reaches its absolutely +'lowest deep' of abject folly and crazy inconsequence. Know you not that +nothing--positively _nothing_ in the whole history of this crack-brained +world--is so mad and so maddening as a Tory article on a bye-election +won by a Liberal, or a Liberal article on a bye-election gained by a +Tory? Know you not that in these dismally, delirious lucubrations, all +the rules of arithmetic, all the laws of logic, all the palpable +bearings of facts, all the obvious meanings of words, to say nothing of +the dictates of veracity, and the impulse of fairness, are deliberately +inverted, perverted, played moral havoc and intellectual pitch-and-toss +with? Know you not that the gibberings of Bedlam are clear and continent +sense compared with the argufyings of a party-scribe 'explaining away' +an opponent's success, or picturing an ally's crushing defeat as a +'moral victory?' Know you not that the (supposed) necessity of penning +such frantic fustian makes a Tory Thunderer drivel like a drunken +THERSITES, and a Radical RHADAMANTHUS equivocate like a pettifogging +attorney? Know you not----?" + +But with a howl of horror the wretched victim of party silliness and +factious sophistry pitched head-first amidst the pile of papers--MAD!!! + + * * * * * + +Laissez-Faire. + + "I believe, if you would let alone this unhappy peasantry, there + would be no difficulty whatever."--Mr. BALFOUR, _on the Irish + Question_. + + THE Irish Landlord has lost his tenants, + And doesn't know where to find them; + Let them alone, and they'll come home, + And bring rents (in their pockets) behind them. + + * * * * * + +A REAL "INKY FLOOD." + +"HERE lies one whose name was written in water," the sad but happily +inappropriate epitaph which KEATS suggested for himself. Had he lived in +our days he would have felt it to be equivocal. People are writing to +the papers with "ink," said to be made out of Thames water. Styx itself +was surely nothing to this. An inkstand has been called "_mare nigrum_," +but hitherto no poetic trope-maker has been bold enough to speak of a +river as an inkstand. Facts _are_ stranger than fiction! + + * * * * * + +'ARRY AT THE SEA-SIDE. + + DEAR CHARLIE, + + 'Ow are you, old oyster? _I_'m doin' the briny, dear boy; + Got my usual fortnit, yer know, as I makes it a pint to enjoy, + Things is quisby at 'ome, and they pressed me to chuck up my annual + spree, + And stand by to look arter the mater who's down with rheumatics. Not me! + + Relations are that bloomin' selfish it fair gives a feller the sick, + I'm jest tidy myself, flush of tin, with no end of a thunderin' "pick," + And now I've a chance of a outing to keep myself up to the mark, + I'm to stay in the doldrums at 'ome! It's _too_ much of a screamin' + old lark. + + No, CHARLIE, boy, self-preservation's the fust law of Nature, yer know; + So I jest slung my 'ook like a shot and came here for a bite and a blow. + I'm as red as a bloomin' tomarter already, and talk about stodge! + Jest you arsk the old mivvey as caters for me at the crib where I lodge. + + Number Seventeen, Paragon Place, is my diggings, mate, floor + Number Three, + From the right'and bow-winder's off-corner you ketch a side-squint of + the sea. + White stucco and hemerald sun-blinds, trailed up with a fine + "Glory" rose, + And a slavey as pooty as pie, if it weren't for the smuts on her nose. + + Oh, I'm up to the knocker, I tell yer; fresh 'errins for breakfast, + old pal, + Bottled beer by the bucket, prime 'bacca, and oh, such a scrumptious + young gal! + Picked 'er up on the pier, mate, permiskus, last Wensday as ever was. + Whew! + She would take the shine out of some screamers, I tell yer, my pippin, + would Loo. + + Dropped 'er 'at the feet of yours, truly, and 'ARRY, of course, was + all there. + Her 'airpins went flyin! Thinks I, that's a jolly fine sample of 'air; + As black as my boots, and as shiny, and oh! sech a 'eavenly smell. + "Hillo! Miss," sez I, "while you're 'andy, there's no need for + Mister RIMMEL." + + That nicked 'er, my nibs. It's the patter as does it, of course _with_ + good looks; + Gals do like a chap as can gab, as you'll find by them Libery books. + Take WEEDEE, my boy, or Miss BROUGHTON; you'll see if a feller would + tackle + A feminine fair up to dick, he 'as got to be dabs at the cackle. + + And that's where _I_ score, my dear CHARLIE. Lor bless yer, in + 'arf an 'our more, + Me and Loo was as cosy as cousins, tucked up in a nook on the shore. + Gives yer 'oliday outing a flaviour, the feminine element do, + Although, _ontry noo_, dear old pal, it's a tidy stiff drain on + yer "screw." + + 'Owsomever, flare up and blow "exes" is always my motter, yer see; + And I never minds blueing the pieces purwided I gets a good spree; + Wich is jest wot I'm 'aving at present. You'll say, at this pint, + I expect, + "'ARRY'S doing the Toff as per usual." To which, mate, I answers, + "_Ker_-rect!" + + Socierty's right, my dear CHARLIE,--Socierty always _is_ right,-- + GLADSTONE'S gab about "masses and classes" is all tommy rot and + sour spite. + There is only one class worth consid'rin', and that is the reglar + _fust_-class; + And the chap as don't try to get into it--well, he is simply a ass. + + Socierty sez, "When the Season is hover, slide off to the Sea! + It's _the_ place for a fair autumn barney." And shall I dispute it? + Not me. + 'ARRY knows his tip better than that, Sir. Your juggins may 'ave + 'is own whim + About bicycling, boating, or wot not; _I_ mean bein' well in the swim. + + Lor, it warms a cove's heart dontcherknow, puts his sperrits right slap + on the rise, + Wen the Niggers are dancing a break-down or singing _Two Lovely + Black Eyes_. + To see lardy Toffs and swell ladies, and smart little gals with + no fuss, + 'Anging round on the listen and snigger as though they wos each + one of _hus_. + + They likes it, my lad, yus they likes it, the Music Hall patter and + slang. + Yet some jugginses kick at _my_ lingo as _vulgar_! Oh, let 'em go 'ang. + Take a run, Mister Mealymouthed Critic, go home and eat coke, poor + old man. + All Toffs as _is_ Toffs share my tastes; we are built on the very + same plan. + + Wots the hodds if yer rides in a kerredge, or drives in a double-'orse + drag, + With a 'orn and a loud concerteena and lots o' prime prog in the bag? + It is only a question of ochre, the principle's ditto all round. + It is larks by the Sea we all seek, and they suits us all down to + the ground. + + But now, I am off to the Pier, CHARLIE. Boat's coming in from Boolong, + And I wouldn't miss that not for nothink. The wind blows a little bit + strong, + And there's bound to be lots on 'em quisby, some regular goners, dessay; + And it _is_ sech a lark to chi-ike them, the best bit o' fun of the day. + + Old jokers in sealskin caps, CHARLIE, drawn over their poor blue old + ears, + Pooty gals with complexions like paste-pots, old mivvies gone green + with the queers; + Little toffs with their billycocks raked, jest to swagger it off like, + yer know, + But with hoptics like badly-biled whelks. Oh, I tell yer it's all a + prime show. + + _Larf_, CHARLIE? It bangs ARTHUR ROBERTS, and makes a chap bloomin' + nigh bust. + I must take a 'am sanwich to munch. Wen a cove ketches sight on it fust, + And I sings out, "Hi! who'll 'ave a fat 'un?" to see that bloke shudder + and shrink, + And go gooseberry green in the gills, is _too_ lovely, mate. Wot do + _you_ think? + + And all this, with the larks on the sands, niggers, spotting the + bathers,--that's spiff!-- + Sails round, going bobbing for whiting, and singing at night on + the cliff, + Not to mention rides out, as per posters, and quiet flirtations with Loo, + I was quietly asked to chuck up 'long o' Mother's rheumatics! Yah boo! + + 'ARRY'S not sech a mug, I essure you. Sweet Home is dashed fiddlededee. + _I_'m not nuts on yer dabby domestic, it spiles a smart chap for a spree. + Ony sorry my time's nearly hup; but, as fur as the ochre will carry, + Do the briny with swells _like_ a swell, is the tip of + Yours scrumptiously, 'ARRY. + + * * * * * + +[Illustration: "OVERCAST." + +THEY WERE OUT FOR A DAY IN THE COUNTRY--WERE LATE AT THE STATION--HE +LEFT IT TO HER TO TAKE THE TICKETS--A HORRID CROWD--FRIGHTFULLY HOT--AND +SHE WAS HUSTLED AND FLUSTERED CONSIDERABLY WHEN SHE REACHED THE +CARRIAGE. + +_He (cool and comfortable)._ "HOW CHARMING THE YELLOW GORSE----" + +_She (in a withering tone)._ "YOU DIDN'T 'XPECT TO SEE IT BLUE, I +S'PPOSE!" [_Tacet!_] + + * * * * * + +SALUBRITIES ABROAD. + +_Thirteenth day of Cure at Royat. Hotel Continental._--The view from my +window is charming, whether on a bright morning or a moonlight night. +But I am not contented with it. There is within me an "OLIVER, asking +for more." Had I the faith which moves mountains, I would order that +hill opposite to be removed, so as to give me a more extensive, and a +grander view. + + * * * + +_The Beggars at Royat._--A nuisance and a disgrace to the place. Why are +these wretched creatures allowed to trade on their fearful afflictions? +Are there no free hospitals, no charitable institutions, where they can +be taken care of? Of course there are. Is there no power to compel them +to go in? Is there no "_traitement_" for them? + + * * * + +As for the little beggar boys and girls who are brought up to the trade +and who waylay us all day, cannot they be put to some useful work and be +forced into school? These able-bodied paupers should be employed in +mending the footpaths leading up to Gravenoire and the environs, which +are in a very bad condition. + + * * * + +I do not object, indeed by this time I take rather kindly to the _vin du +pays_, but I detest what Mr. "DUMB-CRAMBO" would call-- + +[Illustration: The Whine of the Country.] + + * * * + +_À propos_ of walks in a wretched condition, why don't their Worships, +the Maires of Royat and Chamalière, lay their heads together and mend +the footpaths? In making the above suggestion, I do not contemplate +wood-pavement. No: but I do think that these beggars might be utilised. + + * * * + +_Pensées d'un Baigneur._--A bather has plenty of time to emulate the +celebrated parrot. What can he do--the bather not the parrot--in his +bath, except think? He can talk, hum, or sing. He can recite: and +exercise his voice and memory. But this would attract attention, and I +fancy the talking, singing, or reciting bather would very soon be +requested to keep quiet. Therefore he must think. He may not sleep: it +is not permitted by the faculty. No: thinking is the thing. The time in +a bath,--thirty-five minutes of it--passes as a dream, and the thoughts +are as difficult to catch and fix as butterflies. Here are a few:-- + +It is absolutely necessary to please oneself even in things apparently +indifferent. Out of politeness, I yielded yesterday to an invitation to +take a drive of two hours. I was ill for nearly a couple of days +afterwards.... So was the kind person who took me. I believe she meant +it well, and intended it as an act of politeness. (N. B. This was +written within the first seven days of the "_traitement_". This sort of +thing must come out of you. The waters bring out selfishness and +ingratitude.) + + * * * + +Morning after morning I find myself staring at the notice on the wall at +the foot of my bath. From that I gather that I am a "titulaire." My +bath-cell is No. 17. So as Titulaire I am Number Seventeen,--like a +convict. My Gaoler, the bathman, does not know me perhaps by any other +name than "Monsieur &c., Dix-Sept." Ah, well, I never thought I should +be seventeen again. But I am--at Royat. How it must be re-juvenising me! + + * * * + +I have been looking over a list of excursions to various "Salubrities +Abroad." Among them I find this:--"_De Lyon en Savoie et en Dauphiné par +Saint-André-le-Gaz, et retour_". + +"St. Andrew-the-Gas" sounds a novel name in a calendar. He was evidently +a Saint much in advance of his time. An excellent man of course +"according to his lights." + + * * * + +I saw a subject here for Mr. MARKS, R.A. A bearded Franciscan Monk in +his brown habit, with cord and rosary at his waist, sending a telegram +at the telegraph office. Imagine the surroundings. Mr. MARKS might call +it an Anachronism. + + * * * + +When abroad, I make notes of the names of any new dishes. The following +one was new to me as a name, not as a dish, which was simple enough, +"_Culottes de boeuf à la fermière_". What next? "_Caleçons de veau à +la baigneuse?_" "_Gilets de mouton à la bergère?_" "_Culottes de veau à +la Brian O'Lynn?_" "_Chapeau de volaille à la coq?_" + + * * * + +_Music._--This morning, the fifteenth of my sojourn here, the band is +playing something new. This is refreshing, as I am becoming a little +tired of the overtures to _Zampa_, _Guillaume Tell_, _Italiano in +Algeria_, selections from the _Huguenots_ (highly popular as a good +finish to any concert) and the dance music, waltzes and mazurkas, which +have been popular for the last two years. + + * * * + +The clocks of Royat are still in an undecided state. The uninitiated +person who takes his time--(_Note, en passant for all baigneurs +here_--Never be in a hurry, and always "take your time," no matter from +where you take it)--from the Hotel, and starts at 7·30 in order to reach +his bath by 8,--a walk of five minutes,--will find, on arriving at the +_Etablissement_, that it is just 8·5, so that he has taken a quarter of +an hour to do the distance. If he starts from the _Etablissement_ at +8·30, to meet a friend at the station, on arriving there he will +discover that it is 8·15 by the Railway Clock, so that he is at the end +of his journey a quarter of an hour before he set out, having done the +distance in considerably less than no time,--a record worth preserving. +The Post Office Authorities, in despair, have put up a notice informing +everybody that their clock has no connection with that of the +_Etablissement_, which may just do what it likes and be wound to it, and +ignoring all church-clock authority and all municipal authority too, +they (the Post Office Authorities aforesaid) announce that they intend +to take their time from the Railway station, but even then will give +themselves a margin of five minutes one way or the other, so that the +public wishing to send letters must ascertain what the post times +_ought_ to be, and then give themselves another margin of at least ten +minutes on the safe side. The calculation is not very complicated when +you are accustomed to it, and its uncertainty lends a gentle stimulus to +the ordinary routine of the uneventful life at Royat. + + * * * + +For "Excursions from Royat by Rail or Road," see my Guide-Book, +forthcoming. + + * * * + +This advice, "_See my Guide_," or "_See my History_," is perpetually +recurring as a friendly hint--it really being a most artful way of +introducing an advertisement to your notice--in that invaluable +publication, the _Guides Diamant, P. Joanne_, series, HACHETTE & CIE., +without which no traveller's pocket or bag is completely furnished. Time +for _siesta_. + + * * * * * + +FIRST IN THE FIELD. + +_A Song of the Cricket Championship._ + +[Illustration: Em met. (Yorks.)] + + THE GRACES are hers, but the Parcæ have tost her + Of late, so the Championship won't go to Gloucester; + Despite brave Lord HARRIS, and efforts well-meant, + That honour won't fall to the bold Men of Kent. + 'Twould have charmed not a few of the "better for wus" sex, + Had luck smiled (not she!) on their sweethearts of Sussex; + And, though it is famed as the pluck and hard-work shire, + The top of the tree is not reached yet by Yorkshire. + Dame Fortune, that Sphinx of the riddle-cum-diddle sex, + Crowns not with success the crack Batsmen of Middlesex. + Spite of SHREWSBURY, GUNN, and such cricketing pots, + Her Song for this season is "_No, not for Notts!_" + And, although "runner-up" (if like greyhounds one rank a shire) + She's _just_ missed first place, has stout HORNBY-led Lancashire. + Thanks--in chief--to young LOHMANN, whom fate cannot flurry, + The Championship once more comes South. Bravo, Surrey! + +[Illustration: Pilling. (Lancs.)] + + * * * * * + +OMINOUS.--Lord R. CHURCHILL is to address a meeting of Unionists at +Sunderland. Hardly strikes one as quite a suitable spot for that +purpose, _Sunderland_ being rather suggestive of the Separatist policy +that Lord RANDOLPH and his friends are so strongly opposed to. The Home +Rulers would have chosen Cumberland as more appropriate. + + * * * * * + +[Illustration: Pleasure Parties.] + + * * * * * + +DRURY LANE WITH PLEASURE. + +MY DEAR MR. PUNCH, + +IT was only what might have been expected that a large audience should +assemble in the National Theatre to see the new piece by Messrs. PAUL +MERRITT and AUGUSTUS HARRIS. The very title was inviting, and when to +that title were added scenes in Oxford, Monte Carlo, Nice and +Gloucestershire, who could refuse the invitation? Certainly not I. So I +accepted, with pleasure, and was present at the initial performance. I +refreshed my recollection of college life at Oxford where men certainly +were not quite as serious as _Mr. Jack Lovell_, in the long since of the +"fifties." I could not help regretting that the Oxford of thirty years +ago had not the unconventional Mr. NICHOLLS amongst the Undergraduates. +Had he been there at the period to which I refer, I undoubtedly should +have sought the honour of his acquaintance, but on the condition that he +did _not_ introduce me to the aforesaid _Jack Lovell_, who on +matriculating at Drury Lane was about as lively as a mute at a funeral. +I was not at all surprised to find him rather out of sorts. Frankly, +_Mr. Jack Lovell_ in _Pleasure_ is not a nice young man. He reads for +the Church and gets plucked, as indeed he should, as he seems to have +employed the time that he ought to have occupied in hard reading, in +behaving in the most disgraceful manner to _Miss Jessie Newland_, +otherwise the ever charming Miss ALMA MURRAY. Very properly refused a +family living, he succeeds to a peerage, and immediately publishes the +story of his betrothed and refuses to marry her. + +[Illustration: Bringing Down the House.] + +Personally, I must admit that I received with joy the news that he was +drinking himself to death, and only felt the deepest regret when I +learned that he had not perished in an admirably contrived Earthquake. + +[Illustration: Sweets to the Sweet.] + +But, in spite of _Mr. Jack Lovell_, Oxford, at Drury Lane, contained a +number of interesting persons. The _Doddipotts_, father and son, with +their American relative (Miss BROUGH), were most amusing, and I was +quite satisfied to accompany them to Nice and Monte Carlo, to see the +Battle of Flowers, the Carnival Ball, and last, but not least, the +Earthquake. This latter effect, in more senses than one, "brought down +the house." In _Pleasure_ the stage-management is excellent throughout, +and, of the joint authorship of the piece, I think I may safely say that +its chief merit lies in the name of HARRIS. Not a mythical "HARRIS," +like unto the friend of _Mrs. Gamp_, but some one far more substantial, +the great AUGUSTUS DRURIOLANUS himself. Whether one is gazing upon the +Sheldonian Theatre (the background to an Oxford Mixture of no common +kind), or the Barges, or the Promenade des Anglais, or the Carnival +Ball, the presence of an excellent master of effect is seen in every +group, in every detail. + +[Illustration: An Oxford Mixture.] + +_Pleasure_ is described as a Comedy-Drama, and the plot is not, perhaps, +as strong as some of its predecessors. As "strength" at a theatre +invariably spells "murder" or "sudden death," I am not at all sure that +this absence of the ultra-melodramatic is not to be welcomed, in spite +of the taste for the horrible which is supposed to be the characteristic +of those who patronise the pit and gallery. But what the People (with a +capital initial letter) lose in the ghastly, they certainly gain in the +beautiful. If the scenery at Drury Lane of the Riviera does not cause +"Personally conducted tours" to be more numerously attended next year +than ever, I shall be more than surprised--I shall be disappointed. Even +the Earthquake should not be a deterrent, for as far as I could learn +from "the incident" at Drury Lane, no one was a penny the worse for the +shaking. Even the unworthy _Lovell_ escaped--I fancy up the chimney. If +this were so, it would only be in keeping with his character. + +In the first Drury Lane success, _The World_ (by the same authors as +_Pleasure_), there was a wonderful clergyman, played by the late Mr. +RYDER, whose cynicism was equal to his audacity. This strange +ecclesiastic I remember, having sown an unusually large crop of wild +oats in his youth, on his return from Evening Service in his middle age, +imperiously refused to allow a lady to remain in his parish because she +had once been deeply attached to him, and had loved him "not wisely, but +too well." I shall never forget the dignified earnestness of the late +Mr. RYDER as he explained to this lady his position as a married man, +and sternly ordered her to move on. Had _Mr. Jack Lovell_ been ordained, +I fancy he would have made an excellent curate to this reverend +gentleman, and that between them they would have formed what is +satirically termed a "pretty pair." + +It is possible that the original intention of the authors of _Pleasure_ +may have been to have conferred on the hero of their piece a Deanery, or +even an Archbishopric, and that the recollection of this prior clerical +creation may have influenced them to alter their contemplated Church +patronage into a temporal peerage linked with twenty thousand a-year. Be +this as it may, _Jack_ and his prototype will rest in my memory as +companion pictures, of what a clergyman might, could, would (but should +not) be. The scenery and the admirable stage-management make _Mr. +Lovell_ and his doings bearable. They pull him through. For the rest, +_Pleasure_ is an amusing play, well mounted, and capitally acted, and +should keep the boards until December brings to Drury Lane and a +delighted world the Christmas Pantomime. On the first night all went +well up to the end of the Fifth Act; but the last, after the excitement +of the Riviera scenes, came as rather an anti-climax.--I beg to sign +myself, in compliment to and emulation of the Earthquake, ONE WHO HAD +GONE TO PIECES. + + * * * * * + +A Hint to the Howlers. + + BETWIXT Paddies who kick up wild hullabaloo, + And rude Radical raffs who will play the Yahoo, + There apparently is not a Tanner to choose; + Though the Irishmen boast of the better excuse! + Rads the Message of Peace will not hasten, I trow, + By taking a hand in this Donnybrook row. + To "trid on their coat-tails" is policy mad, + But to help them to swing the shillelagh's as bad. + To ape angry Pats in their weakness for fights, + Is the very worst way to get Ireland her "rights." + + * * * * * + +AN ADDRESS TO PARLIAMENT.--Shut up! + + * * * * * + +[Illustration: SEA-SIDE WEATHER STUDIES. SET FAIR. WHITBY.] + + * * * * * + +"ON HIS OWN HOOK!" + +A POLITICAL "ANGLER'S SONG." + +(_Imitated, at a respectful distance, from Piscator's Song in "The +Compleat Angler._") + +_Piscator pipeth_:-- + + Now private pique breeds party talk, + Some G. would bless, and some would baulk; + Some seem to find it pretty sport, + Changeful constituencies to court. + To share such games I do not wish, + No, for awhile, I'd rather--fish. + + Just now I might to danger ride, + There's doubt about the winning side, + One's little game may often prove + Advanced by a _retiring_ move. + For faction's fetter, party's snare, + Whilst angling here I need not care. + + Such recreation is there none, + As playing one's own game alone. + Aught else is risky, more or less, + And well may land one in a mess, + My hand alone my work can do, + Here I can fish, and study too. + + I care not much to fish the seas, + Me party-angling more doth please; + My present task I contemplate + With patience, not with heart elate. + But in safe waters I would keep, + And floods at home run wild and deep. + + I'm not _quite_ cocksure on which side + At present runs "the flowing tide;" + I'd not be stranded with the ebb-- + I've shunned the Grand Old Spider's web; + I am not like a simple fly; + I take my hook, and mind my eye. + + I'll not with Caucus gudgeons wait, + Prepared to gorge whatever bait. + How poor a thing, wire-pullers find, + Will captivate the Caucus mind! + Yet latterly, to my surprise, + Unto _my_ bait it fails to rise. + + But here, though while I fish I fast + From the political repast, + Yet, as my new-found friends invite, + I'll take the swim, I'll watch the bite. + Should chance the Coalition dish, + _There_'d be a pretty kettle o' fish! + + So I'm content this post to take, + Alone, but calm and wide awake. + Anglers "lie low" just now and then, + Much more so we fishers of men. + Here I can "bob," smoke, make a name, + And from afar watch the whole game. + + I fancy that, were RANDOLPH here, + He'd smile, and share my bottled beer. + Both fishers we; by brain not book, + Take our own line, on our own hook. + I'll watch which way the home wind blows, + And when 'tis settled--well, who knows? + + * * * * * + +AT HOME WITH ATOMS. + +DEAR MR. PUNCH,--After listening to Sir HENRY ROSCOE'S Address at the +Free Trade Hall last evening, my brain feels very much like a "molecule +on the eve of being broken into atoms," by the grandeur of the subject +on which he discoursed, and as he so kindly told us this catastrophe +"may be brought about not only by heat vibrations, but likewise by an +electrical discharge at a comparatively low temperature," the present +state of the weather rather adds to the anxiety I feel about the seat of +my mental organisation. Still "there is a fundamental difference," he +tells us, "between the question of separating the atoms in the molecule, +and that of splitting up the atom itself," so that there seems to be a +remote chance in any case of my preserving an atom or two of sound sense +and intelligence in the midst of impending chaos, the more so, as "even +the highest of terrestrial temperatures, that of the electric spark, has +failed to shake any atom in two." + +In the course of his address Sir H. ROSCOE also said, "There is no such +thing in nature as great or small." I was always considered the smallest +in my family, and it seems difficult, though at the same time +encouraging, to believe I am equal in physical quantities of height and +weight to the other members. What such nice men say must be true--at any +rate until something _truer_ is found out. I shall therefore cherish the +idea I have hitherto been under a delusion. Mind may have some +inscrutable quality wherewith to balance Matter. I remember my tallest +sister was the one who thought least. Mind and Matter are now so much +mixed, that they may be interchangeable molecules; who knows? Sir H. +ROSCOE observed also that "heat is evolved by the clashing of the +atoms." I felt how true that was when we twelve molecules quarrelled as +children. + +I think, _Mr. Punch_, for a woman, I have gathered a great deal of +information in a few hours. + +Yours truthfully, +THE BETTER HALF OF SOMEBODY. + + * * * * * + +THE PECCANT MEMBER. + +_A Wail by a Weary One._ + + PARLIAMENT sitting still--and in September! + It's all along of "the unruly member"-- + That is, the tongue. But, to adapt it duly + To modern days, it should be called _Home_-Ruly! + + * * * * * + +"NOT IN THE HUNTS."--Mr. SANDERS. + +[Illustration: "ON HIS OWN HOOK!" + +JUDICIOUS JOE. "A BIT ROUGH--BUT, PLEASANTER THAN _HOME WATERS_--JUST +NOW!"] + + * * * * * + +[Illustration: STREET PUZZLE. TO FIND LAW AND ORDER. + +STRAND, 10·45 P.M.] + + * * * * * + +CIRCUS PERFORMANCES. + +SIR,--I see that there is a senseless outcry against the proposed plan +of the Board of Works to build on a portion of the open space now +available at Piccadilly Circus, and I write to protest against the +pestilent heresy that prompts it. What, Sir, I ask, has the Board to do +with "beauty"? As a public body, responsible to the ratepayers, they +have only one thing to consider, and that is, "utility." Why, then, +should they not seize upon every vacant inch of ground at their +disposal, and convert it into a Central Pig Market? Such a thing could +not be better installed than at the end of Regent Street, and here is +the very site for it. Expecting to see some active steps taken to set +this on foot, I am, Sir, your obedient Servant, NOTHING IF NOT +PRACTICAL. + +SIR,--Your Correspondent, "ONE WITH AN EYE TO THE SUBLIME," is right in +attacking the gross Vandalism of the Board, but, in his proposed scheme +for statues and fountains, he falls miserably short of what is really +wanted to make Piccadilly Circus what it should be; namely, the grandest +open space in Europe. The ground should be cleared from St. James's +Church to Leicester Square, East and West, and opened up southwards the +whole width to the Duke of York's Column. Upon the space so secured, a +white marble pavement, broken only by colossal water-works, groups of +classic statuary, splendid monuments, and groves of orange-trees, should +be laid, and here, to the plash of silvery cascades, utterly +outrivalling the greatest display of which Versailles is capable, and, +to the music of half-a-dozen separate military bands, the jaded Londoner +should disport himself from morn to dewy eve. You ask as to the cost. +Well, a rate of fifteen shillings in the pound for a hundred and fifty +years would soon settle that, and I am sure there is not a taxpayer in +the parishes immediately concerned who would not willingly jump at this +trifling charge to see the scheme realised. At least, this is the view +at the present moment taken of the matter by Yours, obediently, AN +ENTHUSIASTIC OUTSIDER. + + +SIR,--They are talking of pulling down St. Mary-le-Strand and wish to +cut off the steps of St. Martin's. Why not _move them both_ and set them +up back to back on the disputed ground? One could face Piccadilly and +the other look up Coventry Street. The idea is a happy one and has the +merit of bringing together in juxtaposition the works of our two great +_Renaissance_ architects GIBBS and WREN. I offer it to your artistic +readers for what it is worth and beg to subscribe myself, Yours, +tentatively, A LOCAL MECÆNAS. + + +Sir,--There was some time since some sensible talk of erecting a +gigantic iron tower in the neighbourhood of the St. Martin's Baths and +Wash Houses. Surely no finer site could be found for such an erection +than that provided by Piccadilly Circus. Here, with a sufficiently ample +base, such for instance as could be furnished by the entire available +space in question, a thing of the kind might rise to, say, the height of +1,000 feet and have one, two or even three theatres at the top. Several +restaurants could be accommodated on the upper floors, and the lower 500 +feet might be partly relegated to a sausage manufactory and partly let +out in chambers. The whole would afford a pleasing and striking _coup +d'oeil_ to any one approaching it either from Waterloo Place, +Piccadilly or Shaftesbury Avenue, and prove, I think, a happy compromise +and solution of the somewhat vexed question of the utilisation of the +disputed space. At least, so the matter strikes your suggestive +Correspondent, A HOPEFUL ÆDILE. + + * * * * * + +LEARNING THE LANGUAGE. + +_A Page from his Bulgarian Ollendorff._ + +HAVE you perceived the Triumphal Arch at the entry of the City? + +No, I have not perceived the Triumphal Arch at the entry of the City, +but I have noticed the cold shoulder of the Generals. + +This must be the congratulatory Round Robin of the Officers. + +Yes, it is the congratulatory Round Robin of the Officers, but here also +is the placard proclaiming me a Usurper. + +Has the Snub arrived from the Porte? + +Yes, the Snub has arrived from the Porte, and with it the Ultimatum from +the CZAR. + +In any emergency would you depend upon the omnibus horse provided for +you by the War Department? + +No, in any emergency I would not depend upon the omnibus horse provided +for me by the War Department, but on the list of trains proceeding to +the frontier, as furnished in the local _Bradshaw_. + + * * * * * + +[Illustration: NAUGHTICAL? + +_Yachting Friend (playfully)._ "HAVE YOU ANY EXPERIENCE OF SQUALLS, +BROWN?" + +_Brown._ "SQUALLS!" (_Seriously._) "MY DEAR SIR, I'VE BROUGHT UP TEN IN +FAMILY!"] + + * * * * * + +FOR AN IRISH TRIP. + +(_Some Preparatory Memoranda._) + +1. To get up the early Celtic history, and establish my undoubted right +to call myself an Irishman, by tracing my pedigree directly back to +FERGUS THE FIRST. + +2. Lend colourable certainty to this by hiring a low-comedy Donnybrook +Fair suit from NATHAN'S, and wearing it on all public occasions. + +3. Make arrangements to take a dozen lessons in jig-dancing and +shillelagh-flourishing from some recognised Music-Hall celebrity engaged +in this special line of business. + +4. Get the words of the _We'll have the Tail off the Cow, Pat_, and +other patriotic songs, by heart, and have an encore verse ready in case +of being called upon to give it in any popular emergency. + +5. Familiarise myself with the use of such expressions as "Whist! +Whist!" "Arrah! are ye shure now," "divil a bit!" and other Irish +colloquialisms, and accustom myself to interspersing my orations with +shrill whoops to give emphasis to a sentence or point to a period as +occasion may require or suggest. + +6. Conceive a defence of boycotting and bring it oratorically, in an +airy and genial way, within a measurable distance of legality, and back +it up if possible with some biblical and Homeric analogies. + +7. Study the Plan of Campaign practically, by hurling boiling pitch, +meal, lime and brickbats through a besieged cabin-window into the faces +of imaginary constabulary without. + +8. Habituate myself to mild indulgence in "potheen," occasional drinking +of confusion to the "Sassenach," and to taking care not to lose sight of +my return ticket. + + * * * * * + +CASE-O'-MY-BANKER. + +(_The Story of Another Child._) + + THE Boy stood in the sweltering street, + Whence all but he had fled; + The fast-departing dog-days' heat, + Flamed full upon his head. + + He was not beautiful nor bright, + Nor born to rule the storm; + A most unlucky urban wight; + A small, yet grimy, form. + + His parents could not grant the boon + --A fortnight's Country air; + They would have spared him precious soon, + But had no cash to spare! + + He called aloud: "Kind Public, say, + If me you have forgot!" + But far from Town the Public play + Unconscious of his lot. + + "Speak, millionnaires," again he cried, + "If I may not levant!" + And but the falling leaves replied, + And daylight growing scant. + + Upon his brow he felt the breath + Of summer slowly fail, + And looked and prayed for kindly aid, + As seaman for a sail. + + Meanwhile the Children's Country Fund, + Formed near the roaring Strand, + (At Buck'n'ham Street, the Number Ten,) + Had no more cash in hand! + + He murmured faintly once again, + "Kind Public, must I stay?" + While to the seaside cab and train + Bore happier lads away. + + * * * + + Ah, Public! You this Summer's heat + Have felt at Pleasure's marts; + Think how you'd like it in the street, + Before it quite departs! + + * * * * * + +A Real Sporting Event. + +ARROW-THROWING is said to be the latest new sport--in Yorkshire. +Newer even than Frog-spearing in France! What next? Perhaps "Javelin-men" +will soon mean something modern, and not perfunctory. Then +"Hatchet-throwing"--in a sense having no relation to travellers' +taradiddles--may become the vogue; and Mr. HANBURY, who is so much +concerned about the Salary of the Master of the Hawks, may move in the +House to have it transferred to a new and actual public functionary--the +Master of the Tomahawks. + + * * * * * + +GEOLOGISTS talk learnedly about the immense antiquity of what they call +"the Coal measures." The modern coal-measures, needed now, are measures +for arming our Coaling Stations. + + * * * * * + +ESSENCE OF PARLIAMENT. + +_From the Notes of a Colleague of the Member for Barkshire._ + +_House of Commons, Monday, August 29._--I was afraid that TOBY would +give himself a holiday. For some time since the Whips have kept an +uneasy eye upon the most independent, the most talented, the most +industrious of their following. And now he has gone! "He will return--I +know he will," before the end of the Session; but for the moment he is +away--the deadly dulness that prevailed at Westminster a fortnight since +was too much for him; and so I follow him in the House--be it well +understood, at a respectful distance. His absence will not be pleasing +to any one--even the sprightly AKERS DOUGLAS, forgetting for the moment +the destination of votes, will regret him. But, as he good-naturedly +observes, under the impression that he is adapting SHAKSPEARE to the +exigencies of the situation, "Votes may come and votes may go, but the +Session seemingly goes on for ever!" + +[Illustration: A. Ak-rs D--gl-s.] + +To return to August 29. The Patriots have determined it shall be a grand +week for the "Ould Counthry." Many previous weeks have been equally +grand weeks, or as they would put it "months." When the SPEAKER took his +seat, scarcely a quorum present. Ministerialists "in reserve," (like +policemen when some one writes to tell Sir C. WARREN he is going to +demonstrate in Trafalgar Square) in various parts of the House. +Gladstonian Whips well _en évidence_ to act as guides to sole +representatives of the Non-Dissentient Liberals, WOODALL and CHILDERS. + +Unprejudiced North Briton DOUGLAS CRAWFORD has a question for young +NORTHCOTE about pig-iron and coal. Seemingly Scotch firms have been +overlooked. Surveyor-General of Ordnance very gravely answers question, +goes home and tenders his resignation, "in consequence of recommendation +of Committee reporting upon War Office organising and suggesting +changes." NORTHCOTE had enough of it. Couldn't even say something funny +about "burning questions _re_ coal generally ending in smoke." + +After JOICEY had wanted to know why great guns should be let off at +Tynemouth Castle, and STANHOPE had promised that for the future they +should be fired (if possible) in a whisper ("Savours of a bang," put in +CHILDERS, _sotto voce_), the Irish gentlemen got to their favourite +sport, KING-HARMAN baiting. They had one or two good sets-to, making it +particularly unpleasant for the Under Secretary about the trial of +O'BRIEN, Resident Magistrates, and Horse-breeding. But this "illigant +divarsion" was only a sort of _hors d'oeuvres_ to the _pièce de +résistance_, "Supply--Irish Votes," which was as strong and savoury as +the National Stew itself. + +DILLON began the ball by moving a reduction of the Constabulary Votes, +saying that the chief duties of the officers were, driving out with the +Country Gentlemen, flirting with all the Young Girls, and shooting with +the Landlords. + +[Illustration: H. N-rthc-te.] + +"Ah, so it is," said JOSEPH GILLIS, with a flush of scarlet indignation +mounting his noble brow, "It's not the driving and shooting I object +to--it's the flirting!" + +JOSEPH GILLIS is very excitable when the fair sex is mentioned, and no +doubt meant what he said. + +TIM HEALY followed on, regretting that GRANDOLPH was not there, no doubt +for the same reason that the Irish gentleman with a shillelagh was sorry +to see no bald pates neat and handy. He said that the Boycotted were the +happiest inmates of the distressful country, possibly feeling that they +had plenty of time for drinking and fighting. + +Then the various votes were taken and "talked at," in the customary way +until the hands of the clock marked Three in the morning. Whenever a +chance showed itself of a war-whoop--whiz--and down came the club upon +somebody--anybody. A couple of hours after midnight the Irishmen became +more conciliatory, soothed by the thought that on the following evening +they would have KING-HARMAN at their mercy. + +"He will take a deal of bating," said TIM, "but whist, you will see how +I shall get at him. He's been to Cremorne----" + +"Fie, for shame!" cried JOSEPH GILLIS, "don't talk of such sinful +places!" + +[Illustration: Sm-ll and B-gg-r.] + +_Tuesday._--Lords had a real good afternoon's work. The LORD CHANCELLOR +(with his usual grace--rather suggestive of the _pavan_ in the Gray's +Inn Maske) took his seat at 4·30. Squabble about the Woman's Suffrage +Bill, which, after being deferred for six months, had come up +again--scowling. Lord DENMAN proposed "previous question," but LORD +CHANCELLOR (great tactician, but not great lawyer) suggested the matter +should stand over until the next sitting. Reproach of "got no work to +do" consequently removed from the Upper House. + +Lords adjourned at Five o'Clock for a week, to recover from their +exertions. + +"Whist, bhoys, be aisy now," said TIM, in the Commons, when KING-HARMAN +was seen going to his dinner. Then came the deluge. + +"It is grand, Sorr," said the only Home-Ruler who does not use an +accent; "it is just illigant, Sorr; and it's myself is proud of this +day." + +TIM walked into the Under Secretary with "joy." He "scathed" him, and +said all manner of things about him. He used, amongst other weapons his +legal knowledge (TIM is a great authority upon all legal questions) to +describe him as a "returned convict." + +"Look at that now!" observed JOSEPH GILLIS. "It's disgraceful that we +should be ruled by a man who has assaulted the perlice!" + +In the midst of the excitement KING-HARMAN suddenly returned from his +dinner. No doubt he had sacrificed, in his haste to defend himself, or +rather, what the only Home-Ruler who does not use an accent calls his +"Ka-rack-tare," from the aspersions of the "inimy," three courses, a +dessert, to say nothing of a cup of coffee and a _chasse_. He drew a +picture of being a lad of two-and-twenty when he assaulted the police at +Cremorne. Would not Hon. Members of Home-Rule persuasion have done the +same at that age? Indignant denial of the entire Home-Rule Party, who +are horrified this suggestion! "Would _they_ tread on the tail of +anybody's coat? And at two-and-twenty? Look at that, now! Bedad! they +would just like to get at the Under Secretary's head with a shillelagh +for making such a suggestion." + +And so the war was carried on, TIM'S heart being at last softened by +KING-HARMAN declaring that he had saved him from ill-treatment at +Dungannon at the hands of some gentlemen who wanted to show him "how to +cheer for the QUEEN" with a stick. "I got hold of the men by the neck +and hurled them back," cried KING-HARMAN, unsuccessfully controlling his +emotion, "and now he--he--he says I got into a ro--ow--ow at Cremorne." + +[Illustration: M-tth-ws.] + +"Craymorne, not Cremorne," shouted the Home-Rulers who are proud of +accuracy. + +And while all this excitement reigned around, the HOME SECRETARY sat +smiling, glad for once and away to be out of his customary hot corner. +However, all passed off peacefully and no bones were broken. + +_Thursday._--House very thin during Question Time, and attendance of +Ministerialists during the entire sitting very scanty, considering the +programme. Then there was an incident. Incident came about this way. +DILLON had been seen during hour allowed for Minister-baiting reading +the huge print of an enormous green placard. First impression he had +grown short-sighted, and required larger type; second, that he meant +mischief. Second impression right one. So to raise the question of the +proclamation of the Ennis County Clare Meeting he asked permission to +move adjournment of debate. SPEAKER put it, were there requisite number +of Members present ready to sanction a regular first-class, A 1, +whack-where-you-will, go-as-you-please, Irish row? SPEAKER used more +Parliamentary language than this, but that was about his meaning. Sixty +Members sprang to their feet to testify their desire not to quarrel, but +to uphold constitutional privileges in the most peaceable manner in the +world. And then the row began. + +DILLON had first shot. Meeting was to be of the most peaceful character. +All that the boys wanted to do was to remind one another of their +inalienable right to denounce the wanton and overbearing conduct of the +Government. They would say this in the most illigant manner imaginable, +without giving offence to anybody. He was going to speak to the boys +himself, and so was Mr. WILLIAM O'BRIEN, and so was Mr. PHILIP STANHOPE. +Sure, now, what harm could there be, especially as the meeting was not +to be held in a part of the country that wanted pacifying? And because +some rack-renting landlords, wild with fury, and shaking in their shoes +with apprehension, asked for it to be proclaimed, it was to be! Could +this be tolerated? No! He would be off that very evening to brave the +bayonet, the buckshot, the battle and the breeze! + +BALFOUR mildly remonstrating. Ennis, County Clare, best possible place +in the world; but meeting might cause peasantry to lose the Arcadian +innocence for which they are at present distinguished. Murmurs from +Home-Rulers, and, later on, "outrage" by PHIL STANHOPE, who actually had +the audacity to speak of Chief Secretary as a "whimsical and +lackadaisical gentleman." The SPEAKER sprang to his feet, and sharply +rebuked the outrager. Only fancy! Calling ARTHUR BALFOUR'S manner +whimsical! and lackadaisical! So monstrous! So blood-curdling! so +untrue! + +The usual gentlemen who patronise the "divarsion" having had their full +share of the fun, the debate was brought to a conclusion. Then the +gentlemen turned their attention to the remaining Irish Estimates, and +enjoyed themselves until the next morning. + +_Friday and Saturday._--Sittings at this time of the year get so mixed, +that they take two days to give a single date. Committee of the House as +before; Irish Estimates as before; "illigant divarsion" as before. And +so, half asleep, the remains of what, a few months ago, had been a +self-respecting House of Commons continued its dreary Session. + +_Total for the Week._--Irish Business carried on in Irish manner, and +CHAMBERLAIN booked for Canada. + + * * * * * + +SOME NOTES AT STARMOUTH. + +AN outcast once more! I exchange the blessing invoked on the perfidious +PLAPPER for curse of equal calibre. On--on--like the Wandering Jew, or +the Pilgrim of Love. No rest but the hotel for me! Starmouth landladies +beginning to enter into the humour of the thing--they appear now with a +broad grin, repeated on faces of accepted lodgers at windows. They +evidently do not consider me a sound investment. Meet other homeless +ones, searching--we scowl at one another jealously. + +[Illustration: Sound Investment.] + +Evening is getting on--which is more than I am. Sinking into a state of +maudlin self-pity. My poor Drama--and all the things I ordered to be +sent in to PLAPPER'S! He, or his lodger, will read by _my_ lamp, bathe +in _my_ bath, feed on my jam--while I ... but I cannot trust myself to +think of it--or Starmouth may lose one of its leading opticians?... +Later--_saved!_ It still seems incredible to me--but I have rooms at +last! At Mrs. SURGE'S--a widow lady, who, as she tells me herself, has +not been in a hurry to put up her card, as she likes "to pick her +lodgers." And she has picked Me--me, the Blighted, the scorned of +Starmouth! No sea-view--but plenty of horsehair. Sunflowers and +mignonette in long front garden; bow-window, and regiment of geraniums +drawn up in pots on little table. Go back, and recover luggage. + +Return to Mrs. SURGE'S roof, not without nervous apprehensions--she may +repent, or I might find the house a smoking ruin. Can't get over an idea +that the Fates are pursuing me. However, they seem to be taking a rest +just now. I am free at last to study Starmouth. Hitherto I have had eyes +for nothing but little cards with "Apartments" on them. + +No doubt about Starmouth being full. Streets crowded. Most of the young +men promenading in flannels and cricket "blazers," of startling +brilliancy. Children, young girls, and stout matrons in striped linen +yachting-caps. (When you are elderly, and at all stout, you do _not_ +appear to advantage in this form of head-dress.) _Chars-à-bancs_, flys, +tricycles, goat-chaises. Always thought Starmouth was a picturesque +fishing-village, with windmills, wooden huts, and drying-nets along +beach. It isn't. + +Still, of course, the change from all London associations, the absolute +quiet must have tendency to refresh the fagged brain. (Always rather a +gratifying reflection somehow, to think one has a fagged brain.) I +observe they are doing _Our Boys_ at the theatre. At the Aquarium are +the BUFFON Brothers with their celebrated Acrobatic Ass "from all the +London Music-Halls." Switchback Railway, too, on the beach, and +automatic machines about every five yards. Plenty of life here. + +[Illustration: Is-linked-on.] + +I am becoming gradually aware that Starmouth, though full, is not +exactly fashionable. I infer this, partly from the fact that already I +instinctively turn round to look curiously at the speaker, when I hear a +duly aspirated "h," _à la mode d'Islington_, partly from the prevalence +and popularity of the whelk-stalls on the Esplanade. Really good +society, even in its laxest mood, would scarcely support quite so many. + +On the Pier. Military Band. View of Beach from sea very beautiful at +night, fairy-like effect of continuous line of light from whelk-stalls. +Yet one would hesitate to put a touch of description like that into a +novel--curious the prudery of fiction, your realistic French author +would describe contents of all the little saucers. That is _Art_, and I +shall see if I can work it in to my drama somehow. + +Leave Pier. Back to Esplanade. Crowd round young man singing to +concertina a ditty about a certain JEMIMA who though "so fond of her +beer, was always a Mug." + +Sentimental Song, to harp, at next corner. About a Stowaway, with golden +curls, and "dear baby lips," and "sweet little eyes," how a cruel Mate +found him in the hold, and was so touched that he kissed him on the +forehead for speaking the "tree-youth," and the crew wept. Most +pathetic--Singer himself compelled to retire to public-house at +conclusion. + +Bed. Dream my Nautical Drama accepted by Mr. IRVING--a _waking_ dream, +too! + +_Sunday._--Breakfast. My landlady evidently person of strict propriety. +My two boiled eggs come in dressed in little red-worsted petticoats. It +never occurred to me before that a bare egg was calculated to call up a +blush--but really they make me feel almost shy now--they do look so coy, +so modest in their simple attire. Possibly, though, Starmouth eggs are +not very strong, and require artificial warmth. + +[Illustration: Holloway.] + +Bells. Stream of people, looking good, in tall hats and best things, +going inland--unregenerate stream, in tweeds, making for sands. +Salvation Army, with fervent but tactless drum. Sunday not a day for +Nautical Drama. Beach, "Will I take a tract?" Hate being rude, so +accept.... I have gone a hundred yards, and I have fourteen +tracts--almost enough to start distributing on my own account. + +_Evening._--Sacred Music. That is, I go to pier when Military Band is +playing. Band certainly broad in its views--I find them performing an +unmistakable polka. There are sacred dances, I know, in Oratorios--but +surely not _polkas_? As they follow it up with _Faust_, and the +_Jeunesse Dorée_ Valse, I realise that I am on the secular, or Trafalgar +Pier--it is _Waterloo_ Pier that has the Sacred Band. + +Crush tremendous; all the art, chivalry, and beauty of Holloway and Mile +End pass in dazzling procession before me. "Shouldn't you laugh if this +old pier was to come down, eh? There's a tidy lot on it," observes a +Blazer to a Yachting Cap. "I should 'ang on to you if it did," responds +the Cap, tenderly--"we'd all gow down together!" + +[Illustration: My Lend.] + +The pier is certainly crowded--is it strong? Don't like the idea of +going down with my Drama unwritten. Shall retire--good night's rest, and +then start fresh with Drama in morning. + + * * * * * + +[Illustration] NOTICE.--Rejected Communications or Contributions, +whether MS., Printed Matter, Drawings, or Pictures of any description, +will in no case be returned, not even when accompanied by a Stamped and +Addressed Envelope, Cover, or Wrapper. To this rule there will be no +exception. + + * * * * * + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Punch, or the London Charivari. 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Volume 93, September 10, 1887. by Various</title> + <style type="text/css"> + body {margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + p {text-align: justify;} + blockquote {text-align: justify;} + h1,h2,h3,h4,h5,h6 {text-align: center;} + .smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} + .center {text-align: center;} + td {padding-left: 1em;} + + hr {text-align: center; width: 50%;} + html>body hr {margin-right: 25%; margin-left: 25%; width: 50%;} + hr.full {width: 100%;} + html>body hr.full {margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 0%; width: 100%;} + hr.medium {width: 76%;} + html>body hr.medium {margin-right: 12%; margin-left: 12%; width: 76%;} + hr.short {text-align: center; width: 20%;} + html>body hr.short {margin-right: 40%; margin-left: 40%; width: 20%;} + span.pagenum + {position: absolute; left: 1%; right: 91%; font-size: 8pt; text-indent: 0;} + + .poem + {margin-left:25%; margin-right:10%; margin-bottom: 1em; text-align: left;} + .poem .stanza {margin: 1em 0em 1em 0em;} + .poem p {margin: 0; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + .poem p.i2 {margin-left: 1em;} + .poem p.i4 {margin-left: 2em;} + .poem p.i6 {margin-left: 3em;} + .poem p.i8 {margin-left: 4em;} + .poem p.i10 {margin-left: 5em;} + + .figure, .figcenter, .figright, .figleft + {padding: 1em; margin: 0; text-align: center; font-size: 0.8em;} + .figure img, .figcenter img, .figright img, .figleft img + {border: none;} + .figure p, .figcenter p, .figright p, .figleft p + {margin: 0; text-indent: 1em;} + .figcenter {margin: auto;} + .figright {float: right; width: auto;} + .figleft {float: left; width: auto;} + + .img {margin: 0; padding-right: 0;} + .div {margin: 0; padding: 0;} + + p.author {text-align: right;} + + .regards {text-align: right; + margin-right: 4em;} + + .salute {text-align: left; + margin-left: 2em;} + + pre {font-size: 75%; } + </style> +</head> +<body> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Punch, or the London Charivari. Volume 93, +September 10, 1887, by Various + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Punch, or the London Charivari. Volume 93, September 10, 1887 + +Author: Various + +Release Date: September 1, 2010 [EBook #33600] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PUNCH *** + + + + +Produced by Neville Allen, Malcolm Farmer and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + +</pre> + + +<h1>PUNCH,<br /> + +OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.</h1> + +<h2>VOLUME 93.</h2> + +<hr class="full" /> + +<h2>SEPTEMBER 10, 1887.</h2> + +<hr class="full" /> + +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[Pg 109]</a></span> + +<h2>STRANGE ADVENTURES OF ASCENA LUKINGLASSE.</h2> + +<center>(<i>By</i> <span class="smcap">Phil Uppes</span>, <i>Author of "An Out-of-Luck Young Man," "Jack and Jill +went up the Hill," "The Bishop and his Grandmother," &c.</i>)<br /><br /> + +<span class="smcap">Ascena's Narrative.</span></center> + +<p><span class="smcap">The</span> story which I have to tell is more than strange. It is so terrible, +so incredible, so entirely contrary to all that any ordinary reader of +the <i>London Journal</i> or the "penny dreadfuls" has ever heard of, that +even now I have some doubt in telling it. I happen, however, to know it +is true, and so does my husband. My husband will come in presently with +his narrative. There! that ought to make you curious. A very good +commencement.</p> + +<p>My early life was uneventful. I was a foundling. I was left with two old +ladies (I fancy I may work them up some day into "character" sketches) +by a perfect gentleman, who, after giving them £200, went away the next +morning to Vienna for ever. He left with these two old ladies a little +wardrobe full of clothes, but there was not a mark, nor so much as an +initial, upon a single thing. They had all been cut out with a sharp +pair of scissors.</p> + +<p>This again ought to excite your curiosity. Bear it in mind. Mysterious +parentage—no mother, no marks, and father gone to Vienna for ever.</p> + +<p>The two old ladies kept a school, in which I first was a scholar, then a +teacher. There I remained until I was seventeen, when I was tall and +strong for my age, and looked more like three or four and twenty. One +day one of the old ladies said to me—</p> + +<p>"Now, my dear, I will tell you what we are going to do. We are going to +sell the school, and buy a little cottage at Bognor. It doesn't face the +sea, and just holds two. So, as we have considered you more or less our +own daughter, we are going to kick you out. Now don't let's talk any +more about it to-day, but tell us to-morrow at breakfast, like a dear +good girl, that we are going to do what you wish."</p> + +<p>"I shall tell you to-morrow," I answered, firmly. "I'll pretend to think +the matter over with all my might and main, until to-morrow morning, and +then give you an answer as solemnly weighed, and as carefully set out, +as a Saturday afternoon essay."</p> + +<p>So I was kicked out.</p> + +<p>I became a governess in the household of Mrs. <span class="smcap">Cowstream</span>. That household +consisted of the master, whose manner was what old ladies in +Lincolnshire call "rampageous," the children, who were, beyond doubt, +hopelessly dull, and the mistress, who was colourless.</p> + +<p>Nothing particularly happened save my dismissal (after receiving a +salary of about a thousand to twelve-hundred a year) within six months. +With about four-hundred pounds in hand I went to the Charing Cross +Hotel.</p> + +<p>I feel I am a little plot-less. So far: foundling, old ladies at Bognor, +aimless engagement by Mrs. <span class="smcap">Cowstream</span> and advertisement for the Charing +Cross Hotel. All good in their way, but not quite enough. I want an +incident. I have it.</p> + +<p>Having untold gold, I thought I would buy some gloves in the Tottenham +Court Road. I entered an omnibus, was much struck by an old woman who +sat next me, bought the gloves, was arrested as a thief for passing +false money and saved from penal servitude for life by old woman. Come, +there's action for you! Still, I don't know why it is, but we don't seem +to get much "forrader."</p> + +<p>The old woman hurried me about from place to place feeding me simply on +grapes and bonbons. For some reason I was not allowed to know where I +was. I didn't want to, and not caring a brass-farthing for the selfish +old ladies at Bognor, it mattered nothing to me whether they heard from +me or not. After a time the old woman asked me to sign this with my +blood.</p> + +<p>"In consideration of seven pounds a week, I agree to sell my dreams +between sunset and sunrise, the payment ceasing on my death, and my +dreams, if any, immediately becoming only, and unconditionally my own."</p> + +<p>I broke out laughing and signed it. Then the old woman said:—</p> + +<p>"I am old enough to be your mother, and I am sure you know I feel kindly +towards you. I am not entirely my own mistress—think well of me if you +can."</p> + +<p>Then placing by my side a little bottle of champagne, potted meats, +Devonshire cream, and dainty biscuits of various kinds, she left me. The +next day I was kicked out and carried in a carriage to Dawlish. I had a +nice little dinner—tender beefsteak, new potatoes, asparagus and +spinach, a bottle of sound port and a ripe stilton. After this, somehow +or other, I had a restless night. I was tormented with strange dreams in +which appeared a person whom I had never seen in my life. Certainly not +that I can remember. He was an old man wearing an immense opal on his +right-hand little finger. I had never seen such an opal before. The +dream was confused, I can only give these facts about it.</p> + +<p>Let's see how I am getting on. Mysterious parentage. School life. Old +woman in omnibus, ghastly-comical agreement, heavy dinner and consequent +nightmare. Is that all? No, I have forgotten the advertisement for the +Charing Cross Hotel. All told, I can't say that there is much in my +story. Must get on. More heavy dinners, more nightmares. Went to +Brighton. Saw Doctor who said, "Your nerves are out of order, you are +suffering from a malady called Incipient Detearia. What do you drink?"</p> + +<p>"Nothing but port, maraschino, and champagne."</p> + +<p>"Quite right. Persevere. I am going away for a fortnight. Continue your +diet, and, when I return, I will come and see you again. By that time +your malady will have reached an acute stage. By the way, do you ever +eat?"</p> + +<p>"Not as much as I drink. I sometimes have a plate of turtle soup, but +chiefly as an excuse for a glass of punch."</p> + +<p>"Quite so. Good day."</p> + +<p>After this, my dreams became more and more confused, and I grew quite +ill. Then I met a gentleman at the <i>table d'hôte</i>, called Captain +<span class="smcap">Charles</span>. He was most kind, asked me on board his yacht, and, when we had +got to Dieppe, said,—</p> + +<p>"Miss <span class="smcap">Ascena</span>, I think we both understand each other. I am afraid I have +done very wrong in kidnapping you. Well, now, I am going to put a +question to you, straight and fair. When the yacht slipped anchor at +Brighton, I had a marriage-licence in our names, in a morocco case in my +pocket, upon which any clergyman on the Continent is bound to act. It's +no Gretna-Green business, I can assure you."</p> + +<p>"I'll talk about it this afternoon, if I am well enough," I said, +holding on to a rope (it was very rough), and, feeling myself turning +deadly pale.</p> + +<p>"Are you married already?" he asked, with a something like a choking in +his mouth.</p> + +<p>"No, no, no," I cried. "I like you very much."</p> + +<p>I got out of the general embarrassment by fainting away until I found +myself in the Hotel Royal, Dieppe.</p> + +<p>Again I pause to say that I fancy somehow I am making a mess of this +story. To my list I have added an absolutely pointless and superfluous +case of kidnapping, which would be unpleasant were it not ridiculous.</p> + +<p>Well, the Doctor came, and said I was to have a large glass of port wine +and a small glass of beef tea every ten minutes. This did me good. After +a few hours of this treatment, feeling more communicative, I told +Captain <span class="smcap">Charles</span> all I have written here. I also explained to him my +difficulty in carrying on my tale without a <i>collaborateur</i>.</p> + +<p>He stooped over me, kissed me gently on the forehead, and said—</p> + +<p>"Never mind, dearest. I will send for a curious old man from Strasburg, +and have myself a shot at the story. Two pens are better than one."</p> + +<p>I could only wonder how it would all end, and, vaguely hope for the +best.</p> + +<center><span class="smcap">Captain Charles' Narrative.</span></center> + +<p>My name is <span class="smcap">Albert Charles</span>. I have a curious old friend who lives at +Strasburg, called <span class="smcap">Outhouse</span>. I am <span class="smcap">Charles</span>, his friend. I wrote to +<span class="smcap">Outhouse</span> and told him Miss <span class="smcap">Lukinglasse's</span> story—of course, in +unscientific language. He replied, it was deeply interesting, and he +would come to me at once. He arrived, and immediately performed the old +"drop of ink trick," where, it will be remembered, a chap is made to +describe what he sees in a little writing-fluid.</p> + +<p>Then <span class="smcap">Outhouse</span> turned to me with a strangely solemn face.</p> + +<p>"We have got our finger," said he, "on the tarantula in his hole, the +viper in his lair, the <i>pieuvre</i> in his cave. Such monsters should not +be allowed to live."</p> + +<p>I was bewildered. We made our way from Newhaven to Chislehurst. We +called upon the old man with the opal, of whom we had so often talked. +He trembled. <span class="smcap">Outhouse</span> seemed to swell to twice his natural height. Then +the old chap with the opal appeared to wither under his gaze. Then he +changed to all manner of colours, and literally exploded. He went off +with a feeble bang, like a cheap firework. Not waiting to pick up his +pieces, we returned to Dieppe, collared the omnibus old woman (whom we +found on the point of strangling <span class="smcap">Ascena</span>), and got her sent to prison, +where she very properly committed suicide to save us further +embarrassment. After these preliminaries had been successfully +accomplished, I am pleased to say that <span class="smcap">Ascena</span> enjoyed peaceful dreams +and sweet repose.</p> + +<p>There now! I have cleared up things pretty well, and don't think it bad +for a first attempt.</p> + +<center><span class="smcap">Ascena's Narrative.</span></center> + +<p>I am married to Captain <span class="smcap">Charles</span>, and <span class="smcap">Outhouse</span> is to live with us for +ever. This is pleasant. I am a little disappointed that circumstances +over which I have no control should prevent me from telling you why I +was a foundling, what was done with my juvenile wardrobe, why my father +never returned from Vienna, what on earth became of my dreams when I +sold them to somebody or other for a pound a day—in fact, what it is +all about. You will say that I am a fraud, a mistake, an unconsidered +trifle. You will be right. Mrs. Captain <span class="smcap">Charles</span> is very stupid and +commonplace. Alas! there has been a great falling off since the days of +<span class="smcap">Ascena Lukinglasse</span>!</p> + +<hr /> + +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[Pg 110]</a></span> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 60%"> +<a href="images/110.png"> +<img src="images/110.png" width="100%" alt="A PARVENU" /></a> +<h4>A PARVENU.</h4> +<center>(THE COMING ARISTOCRACY OF MIND.)</center><br /> +<p><i>He.</i> "<span class="smcap">Charming Youth, that Young Bellamy—such a refined and cultivated +Intellect! When you think what he's <i>risen</i> from, poor Fellow, it really +does him credit!</span>"</p> +<p><i>She.</i> "<span class="smcap">Why, were his People—a—inferiah!</span>"</p> +<p><i>He.</i> "<span class="smcap">Well, yes. His Grandfather's an Earl, you know, and his Uncle's a +Bishop; and he <i>himself</i> is Heir to an old Baronetcy with Eighty +Thousand a year!</span>"</p> +</div> + +<hr /> + +<h2>A TALE OF TERROR.</h2> + +<p><span class="smcap">He</span> sat, or rather grovelled, amongst a pile of daily newspapers. His +eyes were wilder, much wilder, than the Wild West of <span class="smcap">Buffalo-Bill</span>, his +hair was as dishevelled as that of an infuriated Irish M.P. after an +All-night Sitting. He looked as mad as a hatter.</p> + +<p>"What ails you?" I inquired, sympathetically, soothingly. For all +answer—as the ebulliently sentimental she-novelist saith—he pointed to +the pell-mell pile of morning papers.</p> + +<p>"Poor fellow!" said I. "Have you then been trying to understand Sir +<span class="smcap">Henry Roscoe's</span> erudite Address to the British Association?"</p> + +<p>He shook his head emphatically.</p> + +<p>"Or to make head or tail, flesh, fowl, or good red herring of one of +<span class="smcap">Auberon Herbert's</span> acidulous jeremiads?"</p> + +<p>Again he shook his head, and tore his hair at the same time.</p> + +<p>"Or to learn from <span class="smcap">Matthew Arnold's</span> moony meanderings, complacent +assumptions, and tart imputations, what is the real nature of his +favourite, quiet, reasonable person,</p> + +<p> +'Asperitatis et invidiæ corrector et iræ?'"<br /> +</p> + +<p>Once more that action of decided dissent.</p> + +<p>"Then perhaps you have been trying to find the 'sweet reasonableness,' +and the invaluable 'dry light' of Science in Professor <span class="smcap">Tyndall's</span> furious +fulminations from the Alps?"</p> + +<p>"Nay, nay, not so," he sobbed, insanely.</p> + +<p>"You may have been endeavouring to reconcile all Mr. <span class="smcap">Gladstone's</span> +Home-Rule utterances during the last ten years, to identify the Mr. +<span class="smcap">Bright</span> of to-day with the People's Tribune of forty years syne, to +measure the motives of Mr. <span class="smcap">Chamberlain</span>, or appraise the intrinsic +importance of <span class="smcap">Jesse</span>, 'the Member for Three Acres and a Cow?'"</p> + +<p>"Alas, no!"</p> + +<p>"Humph! You cannot possibly have been so foolish as to venture the +brain-dizzying dangers of a course of the 'Thunderer's' tempestuous +Home-Rule leaders?"</p> + +<p>He had not, and intimated as much, mournfully.</p> + +<p>"Dear me! Desperate man, <i>do</i> not say that you have been trying to +analyse the authoritative 'Analyses' of this year's County Cricketing, +to test their apportionment of champion honours, or track out their +distracting decimals to their last hidden lair!"</p> + +<p>"Worse than that—far worse!" he moonily muttered.</p> + +<p>"You alarm me, rash man!" I cried. "Can it possibly be that from a +comparison of the works of the (Sporting) Prophets you have foolishly +essayed to spot the winner of the coming St. Leger?"</p> + +<p>"No such luck," said he, with a shudder.</p> + +<p>I drew near to him, and whispered low in his ear—</p> + +<p>"Have you—<i>have</i> you been seeking the meaning of the verses of some +peer-poet in the <i>Morning Post</i>?"</p> + +<p>"Would—<i>would</i> it were but that," he groaned, picking a single straw +from the truss or so that stuck porcupine-quill-wise in his tangled fell +of hair.</p> + +<p>"I have it!" I cried. "You have an attack of veritable 'Whitmania,' +arising from a too long indulgence in the intoxicating yet enervating +flow of Swinburnian superlatives?"</p> + +<p>"The deuce a bit of it," he snapped, testily.</p> + +<p>I was growing impatient, and inclined "to give it up."</p> + +<p>"Oh! this is worse than <span class="smcap">Argyll</span> on Political Economy, or a Double +Acrostic!" I grumbled, angrily. "What in the name of Eleusis <i>have</i> you +been up to?"</p> + +<p>"<i>Listen!</i>" he whispered, placing his lips close to my ears; "listen, +and marvel if you may; aid me if you can. <i>I have been trying, by a +comparison of the comments thereupon in the various party papers, to +understand the real significance of a</i> <span class="smcap">Bye-Election</span>!!!"</p> + +<p>"Miserable man!" I gasped, "that way indeed Madness lies. Know you not +that human imbecility in those identical comments reaches its absolutely +'lowest deep' of abject folly and crazy inconsequence. Know you not that +nothing—positively <i>nothing</i> in the whole history of this crack-brained +world—is so mad and so maddening as a Tory article on a bye-election +won by a Liberal, or a Liberal article on a bye-election gained by a +Tory? Know you not that in these dismally, delirious lucubrations, all +the rules of arithmetic, all the laws of logic, all the palpable +bearings of facts, all the obvious meanings of words, to say nothing of +the dictates of veracity, and the impulse of fairness, are deliberately +inverted, perverted, played moral havoc and intellectual pitch-and-toss +with? Know you not that the gibberings of Bedlam are clear and continent +sense compared with the argufyings of a party-scribe 'explaining away' +an opponent's success, or picturing an ally's crushing defeat as a +'moral victory?' Know you not that the (supposed) necessity of penning +such frantic fustian makes a Tory Thunderer drivel like a drunken +<span class="smcap">Thersites</span>, and a Radical <span class="smcap">Rhadamanthus</span> equivocate like a pettifogging +attorney? Know you not——?"</p> + +<p>But with a howl of horror the wretched victim of party silliness and +factious sophistry pitched head-first amidst the pile of papers—<span class="smcap">MAD!!!</span></p> + +<hr /> + +<h4>Laissez-Faire.</h4> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"I believe, if you would let alone this unhappy peasantry, there +would be no difficulty whatever."—Mr. <span class="smcap">Balfour</span>, <i>on the Irish +Question</i>.</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0"><span class="smcap">The</span> Irish Landlord has lost his tenants,</p> +<p class="i2">And doesn't know where to find them;</p> +<p class="i0">Let them alone, and they'll come home,</p> +<p class="i2">And bring rents (in their pockets) behind them.</p> +</div></div> + +<hr /> + +<h4>A Real "Inky Flood."</h4> + +<p>"<span class="smcap">Here</span> lies one whose name was written in water," the sad but happily +inappropriate epitaph which <span class="smcap">Keats</span> suggested for himself. Had he lived in +our days he would have felt it to be equivocal. People are writing to +the papers with "ink," said to be made out of Thames water. Styx itself +was surely nothing to this. An inkstand has been called "<i>mare nigrum</i>," +but hitherto no poetic trope-maker has been bold enough to speak of a +river as an inkstand. Facts <i>are</i> stranger than fiction!</p> + +<hr /> + +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[Pg 111]</a></span> + +<h2>'ARRY AT THE SEA-SIDE.</h2> + +<div class="poem1"><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6"><span class="smcap">Dear Charlie,</span></p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0">'Ow are you, old oyster? <i>I</i>'m doin' the briny, dear boy;</p> +<p class="i0">Got my usual fortnit, yer know, as I makes it a pint to enjoy,</p> +<p class="i0">Things is quisby at 'ome, and they pressed me to chuck up my annual spree,</p> +<p class="i0">And stand by to look arter the mater who's down with rheumatics. Not me!</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0">Relations are that bloomin' selfish it fair gives a feller the sick,</p> +<p class="i0">I'm jest tidy myself, flush of tin, with no end of a thunderin' "pick,"</p> +<p class="i0">And now I've a chance of a outing to keep myself up to the mark,</p> +<p class="i0">I'm to stay in the doldrums at 'ome! It's <i>too</i> much of a screamin' old lark.</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0">No, <span class="smcap">Charlie</span>, boy, self-preservation's the fust law of Nature, yer know;</p> +<p class="i0">So I jest slung my 'ook like a shot and came here for a bite and a blow.</p> +<p class="i0">I'm as red as a bloomin' tomarter already, and talk about stodge!</p> +<p class="i0">Jest you arsk the old mivvey as caters for me at the crib where I lodge.</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0">Number Seventeen, Paragon Place, is my diggings, mate, floor Number Three,</p> +<p class="i0">From the right'and bow-winder's off-corner you ketch a side-squint of the sea.</p> +<p class="i0">White stucco and hemerald sun-blinds, trailed up with a fine "Glory" rose,</p> +<p class="i0">And a slavey as pooty as pie, if it weren't for the smuts on her nose.</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0">Oh, I'm up to the knocker, I tell yer; fresh 'errins for breakfast, old pal,</p> +<p class="i0">Bottled beer by the bucket, prime 'bacca, and oh, such a scrumptious young gal!</p> +<p class="i0">Picked 'er up on the pier, mate, permiskus, last Wensday as ever was. Whew!</p> +<p class="i0">She would take the shine out of some screamers, I tell yer, my pippin, would Loo.</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0">Dropped 'er 'at the feet of yours, truly, and <span class="smcap">'Arry</span>, of course, was all there.</p> +<p class="i0">Her 'airpins went flyin! Thinks I, that's a jolly fine sample of 'air;</p> +<p class="i0">As black as my boots, and as shiny, and oh! sech a 'eavenly smell.</p> +<p class="i0">"Hillo! Miss," sez I, "while you're 'andy, there's no need for Mister <span class="smcap">Rimmel</span>."</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0">That nicked 'er, my nibs. It's the patter as does it, of course <i>with</i> good looks;</p> +<p class="i0">Gals do like a chap as can gab, as you'll find by them Libery books.</p> +<p class="i0">Take <span class="smcap">Weedee</span>, my boy, or Miss <span class="smcap">Broughton</span>; you'll see if a feller would tackle</p> +<p class="i0">A feminine fair up to dick, he 'as got to be dabs at the cackle.</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0">And that's where <i>I</i> score, my dear <span class="smcap">Charlie</span>. Lor bless yer, in 'arf an 'our more,</p> +<p class="i0">Me and Loo was as cosy as cousins, tucked up in a nook on the shore.</p> +<p class="i0">Gives yer 'oliday outing a flaviour, the feminine element do,</p> +<p class="i0">Although, <i>ontry noo</i>, dear old pal, it's a tidy stiff drain on yer "screw."</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0">'Owsomever, flare up and blow "exes" is always my motter, yer see;</p> +<p class="i0">And I never minds blueing the pieces purwided I gets a good spree;</p> +<p class="i0">Wich is jest wot I'm 'aving at present. You'll say, at this pint, I expect,</p> +<p class="i0">"<span class="smcap">'Arry's</span> doing the Toff as per usual." To which, mate, I answers, "<i>Ker</i>-rect!"</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0">Socierty's right, my dear <span class="smcap">Charlie</span>,—Socierty always <i>is</i> right,—</p> +<p class="i0"><span class="smcap">Gladstone's</span> gab about "masses and classes" is all tommy rot and sour spite.</p> +<p class="i0">There is only one class worth consid'rin', and that is the reglar <i>fust</i>-class;</p> +<p class="i0">And the chap as don't try to get into it—well, he is simply a ass.</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0">Socierty sez, "When the Season is hover, slide off to the Sea!"</p> +<p class="i0">It's <i>the</i> place for a fair autumn barney." And shall I dispute it? Not me.</p> +<p class="i0"><span class="smcap">'Arry</span> knows his tip better than that, Sir. Your juggins may 'ave 'is own whim</p> +<p class="i0">About bicycling, boating, or wot not; <i>I</i> mean bein' well in the swim.</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0">Lor, it warms a cove's heart dontcherknow, puts his sperrits right slap on the rise,</p> +<p class="i0">Wen the Niggers are dancing a break-down or singing <i>Two Lovely Black Eyes</i>.</p> +<p class="i0">To see lardy Toffs and swell ladies, and smart little gals with no fuss,</p> +<p class="i0">'Anging round on the listen and snigger as though they wos each one of <i>hus</i>.</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0">They likes it, my lad, yus they likes it, the Music Hall patter and slang.</p> +<p class="i0">Yet some jugginses kick at <i>my</i> lingo as <i>vulgar</i>! Oh, let 'em go 'ang.</p> +<p class="i0">Take a run, Mister Mealymouthed Critic, go home and eat coke, poor old man.</p> +<p class="i0">All Toffs as <i>is</i> Toffs share my tastes; we are built on the very same plan.</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0">Wots the hodds if yer rides in a kerredge, or drives in a double-'orse drag,</p> +<p class="i0">With a 'orn and a loud concerteena and lots o' prime prog in the bag?</p> +<p class="i0">It is only a question of ochre, the principle's ditto all round.</p> +<p class="i0">It is larks by the Sea we all seek, and they suits us all down to the ground.</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0">But now, I am off to the Pier, <span class="smcap">Charlie</span>. Boat's coming in from Boolong,</p> +<p class="i0">And I wouldn't miss that not for nothink. The wind blows a little bit strong,</p> +<p class="i0">And there's bound to be lots on 'em quisby, some regular goners, dessay;</p> +<p class="i0">And it <i>is</i> sech a lark to chi-ike them, the best bit o' fun of the day.</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0">Old jokers in sealskin caps, <span class="smcap">Charlie</span>, drawn over their poor blue old ears,</p> +<p class="i0">Pooty gals with complexions like paste-pots, old mivvies gone green with the queers;</p> +<p class="i0">Little toffs with their billycocks raked, jest to swagger it off like, yer know,</p> +<p class="i0">But with hoptics like badly-biled whelks. Oh, I tell yer it's all a prime show.</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0"><i>Larf</i>, <span class="smcap">Charlie</span>? It bangs <span class="smcap">Arthur Roberts</span>, and makes a chap bloomin' nigh bust.</p> +<p class="i0">I must take a 'am sanwich to munch. Wen a cove ketches sight on it fust,</p> +<p class="i0">And I sings out, "Hi! who'll 'ave a fat 'un?" to see that bloke shudder and shrink,</p> +<p class="i0">And go gooseberry green in the gills, is <i>too</i> lovely, mate. Wot do <i>you</i> think?</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0">And all this, with the larks on the sands, niggers, spotting the bathers,—that's spiff!—</p> +<p class="i0">Sails round, going bobbing for whiting, and singing at night on the cliff,</p> +<p class="i0">Not to mention rides out, as per posters, and quiet flirtations with Loo,</p> +<p class="i0">I was quietly asked to chuck up 'long o' Mother's rheumatics! Yah boo!</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0"><span class="smcap">'Arry's</span> not sech a mug, I essure you. Sweet Home is dashed fiddlededee.</p> +<p class="i0"><i>I</i>'m not nuts on yer dabby domestic, it spiles a smart chap for a spree.</p> +<p class="i0">Ony sorry my time's nearly hup; but, as fur as the ochre will carry,</p> +<p class="i0">Do the briny with swells <i>like</i> a swell, is the tip of Yours scrumptiously, <span class="smcap">'Arry</span>.</p> +</div></div> + +<hr /> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 60%"> +<a href="images/111.png"> +<img src="images/111.png" width="100%" alt="OVERCAST" /></a> +<h4>"OVERCAST."</h4> +<p><span class="smcap">They were out for a Day in the Country—were late at the Station—He +left it to her to take the Tickets—a Horrid Crowd—Frightfully Hot—and +she was Hustled and Flustered considerably when she reached the +Carriage.</span></p> +<p><i>He (cool and comfortable).</i> "<span class="smcap">How charming the Yellow Gorse——</span>"</p> +<p><i>She (in a withering tone).</i> "<span class="smcap">You didn't 'xpect to see it Blue, I +s'ppose!</span>" [<i>Tacet!</i></p> +</div> + +<hr /> + +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[Pg 112]</a></span> + +<h2>SALUBRITIES ABROAD.</h2> + +<p><i>Thirteenth day of Cure at Royat. Hotel Continental.</i>—The view from my +window is charming, whether on a bright morning or a moonlight night. +But I am not contented with it. There is within me an "<span class="smcap">Oliver</span>, asking +for more." Had I the faith which moves mountains, I would order that +hill opposite to be removed, so as to give me a more extensive, and a +grander view.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<p><i>The Beggars at Royat.</i>—A nuisance and a disgrace to the place. Why are +these wretched creatures allowed to trade on their fearful afflictions? +Are there no free hospitals, no charitable institutions, where they can +be taken care of? Of course there are. Is there no power to compel them +to go in? Is there no "<i>traitement</i>" for them?</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<p>As for the little beggar boys and girls who are brought up to the trade +and who waylay us all day, cannot they be put to some useful work and be +forced into school? These able-bodied paupers should be employed in +mending the footpaths leading up to Gravenoire and the environs, which +are in a very bad condition.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<p>I do not object, indeed by this time I take rather kindly to the <i>vin du +pays</i>, but I detest what Mr. "<span class="smcap">Dumb-Crambo</span>" would call—</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 50%"> +<a href="images/112a.png"> +<img src="images/112a.png" width="100%" alt="The Whine of the Country" /></a> +<h4>The Whine of the Country.</h4> +</div> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<p><i>À propos</i> of walks in a wretched condition, why don't their Worships, +the Maires of Royat and Chamalière, lay their heads together and mend +the footpaths? In making the above suggestion, I do not contemplate +wood-pavement. No: but I do think that these beggars might be utilised.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<p><i>Pensées d'un Baigneur.</i>—A bather has plenty of time to emulate the +celebrated parrot. What can he do—the bather not the parrot—in his +bath, except think? He can talk, hum, or sing. He can recite: and +exercise his voice and memory. But this would attract attention, and I +fancy the talking, singing, or reciting bather would very soon be +requested to keep quiet. Therefore he must think. He may not sleep: it +is not permitted by the faculty. No: thinking is the thing. The time in +a bath,—thirty-five minutes of it—passes as a dream, and the thoughts +are as difficult to catch and fix as butterflies. Here are a few:—</p> + +<p>It is absolutely necessary to please oneself even in things apparently +indifferent. Out of politeness, I yielded yesterday to an invitation to +take a drive of two hours. I was ill for nearly a couple of days +afterwards.... So was the kind person who took me. I believe she meant +it well, and intended it as an act of politeness. (N. B. This was +written within the first seven days of the "<i>traitement.</i>" This sort of +thing must come out of you. The waters bring out selfishness and +ingratitude.)</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<p>Morning after morning I find myself staring at the notice on the wall at +the foot of my bath. From that I gather that I am a "titulaire." My +bath-cell is No. 17. So as Titulaire I am Number Seventeen,—like a +convict. My Gaoler, the bathman, does not know me perhaps by any other +name than "Monsieur &c., Dix-Sept." Ah, well, I never thought I should +be seventeen again. But I am—at Royat. How it must be re-juvenising me!</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<p>I have been looking over a list of excursions to various "Salubrities +Abroad." Among them I find this:—"<i>De Lyon en Savoie et en Dauphiné par +Saint-André-le-Gaz, et retour.</i>"</p> + +<p>"St. Andrew-the-Gas" sounds a novel name in a calendar. He was evidently +a Saint much in advance of his time. An excellent man of course +"according to his lights."</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<p>I saw a subject here for Mr. <span class="smcap">Marks</span>, R.A. A bearded Franciscan Monk in +his brown habit, with cord and rosary at his waist, sending a telegram +at the telegraph office. Imagine the surroundings. Mr. <span class="smcap">Marks</span> might call +it an Anachronism.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<p>When abroad, I make notes of the names of any new dishes. The following +one was new to me as a name, not as a dish, which was simple enough, +"<i>Culottes de bœuf à la fermière.</i>" What next? "<i>Caleçons de veau à +la baigneuse?</i>" "<i>Gilets de mouton à la bergère?</i>" "<i>Culottes de veau à +la Brian O'Lynn?</i>" "<i>Chapeau de volaille à la coq?</i>"</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<p><i>Music.</i>—This morning, the fifteenth of my sojourn here, the band is +playing something new. This is refreshing, as I am becoming a little +tired of the overtures to <i>Zampa</i>, <i>Guillaume Tell</i>, <i>Italiano in +Algeria</i>, selections from the <i>Huguenots</i> (highly popular as a good +finish to any concert) and the dance music, waltzes and mazurkas, which +have been popular for the last two years.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<p>The clocks of Royat are still in an undecided state. The uninitiated +person who takes his time—(<i>Note, en passant for all baigneurs +here</i>—Never be in a hurry, and always "take your time," no matter from +where you take it)—from the Hotel, and starts at 7·30 in order to reach +his bath by 8,—a walk of five minutes,—will find, on arriving at the +<i>Etablissement</i>, that it is just 8·5, so that he has taken a quarter of +an hour to do the distance. If he starts from the <i>Etablissement</i> at +8·30, to meet a friend at the station, on arriving there he will +discover that it is 8·15 by the Railway Clock, so that he is at the end +of his journey a quarter of an hour before he set out, having done the +distance in considerably less than no time,—a record worth preserving. +The Post Office Authorities, in despair, have put up a notice informing +everybody that their clock has no connection with that of the +<i>Etablissement</i>, which may just do what it likes and be wound to it, and +ignoring all church-clock authority and all municipal authority too, +they (the Post Office Authorities aforesaid) announce that they intend +to take their time from the Railway station, but even then will give +themselves a margin of five minutes one way or the other, so that the +public wishing to send letters must ascertain what the post times +<i>ought</i> to be, and then give themselves another margin of at least ten +minutes on the safe side. The calculation is not very complicated when +you are accustomed to it, and its uncertainty lends a gentle stimulus to +the ordinary routine of the uneventful life at Royat.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<p>For "Excursions from Royat by Rail or Road," see my Guide-Book, +forthcoming.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<p>This advice, "<i>See my Guide</i>," or "<i>See my History</i>," is perpetually +recurring as a friendly hint—it really being a most artful way of +introducing an advertisement to your notice—in that invaluable +publication, the <i>Guides Diamant, P. Joanne</i>, series, <span class="smcap">Hachette & Cie.</span>, +without which no traveller's pocket or bag is completely furnished. Time +for <i>siesta</i>.</p> + +<hr /> + +<h2>FIRST IN THE FIELD.</h2> + +<center><i>A Song of the Cricket Championship.</i></center> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 50%"> +<a href="images/112b.png"> +<img src="images/112b.png" width="100%" alt="Em met" /></a> +<h4>Em met. (Yorks.)</h4> +</div> + +<div class="poem1"><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0"><span class="smcap">The</span> <span class="smcap">Graces</span> are hers, but the Parcæ have tost her</p> +<p class="i0">Of late, so the Championship won't go to Gloucester;</p> +<p class="i0">Despite brave Lord <span class="smcap">Harris</span>, and efforts well-meant,</p> +<p class="i0">That honour won't fall to the bold Men of Kent.</p> +<p class="i0">'Twould have charmed not a few of the "better for wus" sex,</p> +<p class="i0">Had luck smiled (not she!) on their sweethearts of Sussex;</p> +<p class="i0">And, though it is famed as the pluck and hard-work shire,</p> +<p class="i0">The top of the tree is not reached yet by Yorkshire.</p> +<p class="i0">Dame Fortune, that Sphinx of the riddle-cum-diddle sex,</p> +<p class="i0">Crowns not with success the crack Batsmen of Middlesex.</p> +<p class="i0">Spite of <span class="smcap">Shrewsbury</span>, <span class="smcap">Gunn</span>, and such cricketing pots,</p> +<p class="i0">Her Song for this season is "<i>No, not for Notts!</i>"</p> +<p class="i0">And, although "runner-up" (if like greyhounds one rank a shire)</p> +<p class="i0">She's <i>just</i> missed first place, has stout <span class="smcap">Hornby</span>-led Lancashire.</p> +<p class="i0">Thanks—in chief—to young <span class="smcap">Lohmann</span>, whom fate cannot flurry,</p> +<p class="i0">The Championship once more comes South. Bravo, Surrey!</p> +</div></div> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 50%"> +<a href="images/112c.png"> +<img src="images/112c.png" width="100%" alt="Pilling. (Lancs.)" /></a> +<h4>Pilling. (Lancs.)</h4> +</div> + +<hr /> + +<p><span class="smcap">Ominous.</span>—Lord <span class="smcap">R. Churchill</span> is to address a meeting of Unionists at +Sunderland. Hardly strikes one as quite a suitable spot for that +purpose, <i>Sunderland</i> being rather suggestive of the Separatist policy +that Lord <span class="smcap">Randolph</span> and his friends are so strongly opposed to. The Home +Rulers would have chosen Cumberland as more appropriate.</p> + +<hr /> + +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[Pg 113]</a></span> + +<h2>DRURY LANE WITH PLEASURE.</h2> + +<p class="salute"><span class="smcap">My Dear Mr. Punch,</span></p> + +<div class="figleft" style="width: 20%"> +<a href="images/113a.png"> +<img src="images/113a.png" width="100%" alt="Pleasure Parties" /></a> +<h4>Pleasure Parties.</h4> +</div> + +<p><span class="smcap">It</span> was only what might have been expected that a large audience should +assemble in the National Theatre to see the new piece by Messrs. <span class="smcap">Paul +Merritt</span> and <span class="smcap">Augustus Harris</span>. The very title was inviting, and when to +that title were added scenes in Oxford, Monte Carlo, Nice and +Gloucestershire, who could refuse the invitation? Certainly not I. So I +accepted, with pleasure, and was present at the initial performance. I +refreshed my recollection of college life at Oxford where men certainly +were not quite as serious as <i>Mr. Jack Lovell</i>, in the long since of the +"fifties." I could not help regretting that the Oxford of thirty years +ago had not the unconventional Mr. <span class="smcap">Nicholls</span> amongst the Undergraduates. +Had he been there at the period to which I refer, I undoubtedly should +have sought the honour of his acquaintance, but on the condition that he +did <i>not</i> introduce me to the aforesaid <i>Jack Lovell</i>, who on +matriculating at Drury Lane was about as lively as a mute at a funeral. +I was not at all surprised to find him rather out of sorts. Frankly, +<i>Mr. Jack Lovell</i> in <i>Pleasure</i> is not a nice young man. He reads for +the Church and gets plucked, as indeed he should, as he seems to have +employed the time that he ought to have occupied in hard reading, in +behaving in the most disgraceful manner to <i>Miss Jessie Newland</i>, +otherwise the ever charming Miss <span class="smcap">Alma Murray</span>. Very properly refused a +family living, he succeeds to a peerage, and immediately publishes the +story of his betrothed and refuses to marry her.</p> + +<div class="figright" style="width: 30%"> +<a href="images/113b.png"> +<img src="images/113b.png" width="100%" alt="Bringing Down the House" /></a> +<h4>Bringing Down the House.</h4> +</div> + +<p>Personally, I must admit that I received with joy the news that he was +drinking himself to death, and only felt the deepest regret when I +learned that he had not perished in an admirably contrived Earthquake.</p> + +<div class="figleft" style="width: 30%"> +<a href="images/113c.png"> +<img src="images/113c.png" width="100%" alt="Sweets to the Sweet" /></a> +<h4>Sweets to the Sweet.</h4> +</div> + +<p>But, in spite of <i>Mr. Jack Lovell</i>, Oxford, at Drury Lane, contained a +number of interesting persons. The <i>Doddipotts</i>, father and son, with +their American relative (Miss <span class="smcap">Brough</span>), were most amusing, and I was +quite satisfied to accompany them to Nice and Monte Carlo, to see the +Battle of Flowers, the Carnival Ball, and last, but not least, the +Earthquake. This latter effect, in more senses than one, "brought down +the house." In <i>Pleasure</i> the stage-management is excellent throughout, +and, of the joint authorship of the piece, I think I may safely say that +its chief merit lies in the name of <span class="smcap">Harris</span>. Not a mythical "<span class="smcap">Harris</span>," +like unto the friend of <i>Mrs. Gamp</i>, but some one far more substantial, +the great <span class="smcap">Augustus Druriolanus</span> himself. Whether one is gazing upon the +Sheldonian Theatre (the background to an Oxford Mixture of no common +kind), or the Barges, or the Promenade des Anglais, or the Carnival +Ball, the presence of an excellent master of effect is seen in every +group, in every detail.</p> + +<div class="figright" style="width: 40%"> +<a href="images/113d.png"> +<img src="images/113d.png" width="100%" alt="An Oxford Mixture" /></a> +<h4>An Oxford Mixture.</h4> +</div> + +<p><i>Pleasure</i> is described as a Comedy-Drama, and the plot is not, perhaps, +as strong as some of its predecessors. As "strength" at a theatre +invariably spells "murder" or "sudden death," I am not at all sure that +this absence of the ultra-melodramatic is not to be welcomed, in spite +of the taste for the horrible which is supposed to be the characteristic +of those who patronise the pit and gallery. But what the People (with a +capital initial letter) lose in the ghastly, they certainly gain in the +beautiful. If the scenery at Drury Lane of the Riviera does not cause +"Personally conducted tours" to be more numerously attended next year +than ever, I shall be more than surprised—I shall be disappointed. Even +the Earthquake should not be a deterrent, for as far as I could learn +from "the incident" at Drury Lane, no one was a penny the worse for the +shaking. Even the unworthy <i>Lovell</i> escaped—I fancy up the chimney. If +this were so, it would only be in keeping with his character.</p> + +<p>In the first Drury Lane success, <i>The World</i> (by the same authors as +<i>Pleasure</i>), there was a wonderful clergyman, played by the late Mr. +<span class="smcap">Ryder</span>, whose cynicism was equal to his audacity. This strange +ecclesiastic I remember, having sown an unusually large crop of wild +oats in his youth, on his return from Evening Service in his middle age, +imperiously refused to allow a lady to remain in his parish because she +had once been deeply attached to him, and had loved him "not wisely, but +too well." I shall never forget the dignified earnestness of the late +Mr. <span class="smcap">Ryder</span> as he explained to this lady his position as a married man, +and sternly ordered her to move on. Had <i>Mr. Jack Lovell</i> been ordained, +I fancy he would have made an excellent curate to this reverend +gentleman, and that between them they would have formed what is +satirically termed a "pretty pair."</p> + +<p>It is possible that the original intention of the authors of <i>Pleasure</i> +may have been to have conferred on the hero of their piece a Deanery, or +even an Archbishopric, and that the recollection of this prior clerical +creation may have influenced them to alter their contemplated Church +patronage into a temporal peerage linked with twenty thousand a-year. Be +this as it may, <i>Jack</i> and his prototype will rest in my memory as +companion pictures, of what a clergyman might, could, would (but should +not) be. The scenery and the admirable stage-management make <i>Mr. +Lovell</i> and his doings bearable. They pull him through. For the rest, +<i>Pleasure</i> is an amusing play, well mounted, and capitally acted, and +should keep the boards until December brings to Drury Lane and a +delighted world the Christmas Pantomime. On the first night all went +well up to the end of the Fifth Act; but the last, after the excitement +of the Riviera scenes, came as rather an anti-climax.—I beg to sign +myself, in compliment to and emulation of the Earthquake,</p> +<p class="regards"><span class="smcap">One who had +Gone to Pieces</span>.</p> + +<hr /> + +<h3>A Hint to the Howlers.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0"><span class="smcap">Betwixt</span> Paddies who kick up wild hullabaloo,</p> +<p class="i0">And rude Radical raffs who will play the Yahoo,</p> +<p class="i0">There apparently is not a Tanner to choose;</p> +<p class="i0">Though the Irishmen boast of the better excuse!</p> +<p class="i0">Rads the Message of Peace will not hasten, I trow,</p> +<p class="i0">By taking a hand in this Donnybrook row.</p> +<p class="i0">To "trid on their coat-tails" is policy mad,</p> +<p class="i0">But to help them to swing the shillelagh's as bad.</p> +<p class="i0">To ape angry Pats in their weakness for fights,</p> +<p class="i0">Is the very worst way to get Ireland her "rights."</p> +</div></div> + +<hr /><br /> + +<center><span class="smcap">An Address to Parliament.</span>—Shut up!</center><br /> + +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[Pg 114]</a></span> + +<hr /> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 80%"> +<a href="images/114.png"> +<img src="images/114.png" width="100%" alt="SEA-SIDE WEATHER STUDIES" /></a> +<h3>SEA-SIDE WEATHER STUDIES. SET FAIR. WHITBY.</h3> +</div> + +<hr /> + +<h2>"ON HIS OWN HOOK!"</h2> + +<center><span class="smcap">A Political "Angler's Song."</span></center> + +<p>(<i>Imitated, at a respectful distance, from Piscator's Song in "The +Compleat Angler.</i>")</p> + +<center><i>Piscator pipeth</i>:—</center> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0">Now private pique breeds party talk,</p> +<p class="i0">Some G. would bless, and some would baulk;</p> +<p class="i0">Some seem to find it pretty sport,</p> +<p class="i0">Changeful constituencies to court.</p> +<p class="i2">To share such games I do not wish,</p> +<p class="i2">No, for awhile, I'd rather—fish.</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0">Just now I might to danger ride,</p> +<p class="i0">There's doubt about the winning side,</p> +<p class="i0">One's little game may often prove</p> +<p class="i0">Advanced by a <i>retiring</i> move.</p> +<p class="i2">For faction's fetter, party's snare,</p> +<p class="i2">Whilst angling here I need not care.</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0">Such recreation is there none,</p> +<p class="i0">As playing one's own game alone.</p> +<p class="i0">Aught else is risky, more or less,</p> +<p class="i0">And well may land one in a mess,</p> +<p class="i2">My hand alone my work can do,</p> +<p class="i2">Here I can fish, and study too.</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0">I care not much to fish the seas,</p> +<p class="i0">Me party-angling more doth please;</p> +<p class="i0">My present task I contemplate</p> +<p class="i0">With patience, not with heart elate.</p> +<p class="i2">But in safe waters I would keep,</p> +<p class="i2">And floods at home run wild and deep.</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0">I'm not <i>quite</i> cocksure on which side</p> +<p class="i0">At present runs "the flowing tide;"</p> +<p class="i0">I'd not be stranded with the ebb—</p> +<p class="i0">I've shunned the Grand Old Spider's web;</p> +<p class="i2">I am not like a simple fly;</p> +<p class="i2">I take my hook, and mind my eye.</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0">I'll not with Caucus gudgeons wait,</p> +<p class="i0">Prepared to gorge whatever bait.</p> +<p class="i0">How poor a thing, wire-pullers find,</p> +<p class="i0">Will captivate the Caucus mind!</p> +<p class="i2">Yet latterly, to my surprise,</p> +<p class="i2">Unto <i>my</i> bait it fails to rise.</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0">But here, though while I fish I fast</p> +<p class="i0">From the political repast,</p> +<p class="i0">Yet, as my new-found friends invite,</p> +<p class="i0">I'll take the swim, I'll watch the bite.</p> +<p class="i2">Should chance the Coalition dish,</p> +<p class="i2"><i>There</i>'d be a pretty kettle o' fish!</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0">So I'm content this post to take,</p> +<p class="i0">Alone, but calm and wide awake.</p> +<p class="i0">Anglers "lie low" just now and then,</p> +<p class="i0">Much more so we fishers of men.</p> +<p class="i2">Here I can "bob," smoke, make a name,</p> +<p class="i2">And from afar watch the whole game.</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0">I fancy that, were <span class="smcap">Randolph</span> here,</p> +<p class="i0">He'd smile, and share my bottled beer.</p> +<p class="i0">Both fishers we; by brain not book,</p> +<p class="i0">Take our own line, on our own hook.</p> +<p class="i2">I'll watch which way the home wind blows,</p> +<p class="i2">And when 'tis settled—well, who knows?</p> +</div></div> + +<hr /> + +<h2>AT HOME WITH ATOMS.</h2> + +<p><span class="smcap">Dear Mr. Punch,</span>—After listening to Sir <span class="smcap">Henry Roscoe's</span> Address at the +Free Trade Hall last evening, my brain feels very much like a "molecule +on the eve of being broken into atoms," by the grandeur of the subject +on which he discoursed, and as he so kindly told us this catastrophe +"may be brought about not only by heat vibrations, but likewise by an +electrical discharge at a comparatively low temperature," the present +state of the weather rather adds to the anxiety I feel about the seat of +my mental organisation. Still "there is a fundamental difference," he +tells us, "between the question of separating the atoms in the molecule, +and that of splitting up the atom itself," so that there seems to be a +remote chance in any case of my preserving an atom or two of sound sense +and intelligence in the midst of impending chaos, the more so, as "even +the highest of terrestrial temperatures, that of the electric spark, has +failed to shake any atom in two."</p> + +<p>In the course of his address Sir <span class="smcap">H. Roscoe</span> also said, "There is no such +thing in nature as great or small." I was always considered the smallest +in my family, and it seems difficult, though at the same time +encouraging, to believe I am equal in physical quantities of height and +weight to the other members. What such nice men say must be true—at any +rate until something <i>truer</i> is found out. I shall therefore cherish the +idea I have hitherto been under a delusion. Mind may have some +inscrutable quality wherewith to balance Matter. I remember my tallest +sister was the one who thought least. Mind and Matter are now so much +mixed, that they may be interchangeable molecules; who knows? Sir <span class="smcap">H. +Roscoe</span> observed also that "heat is evolved by the clashing of the +atoms." I felt how true that was when we twelve molecules quarrelled as +children.</p> + +<p>I think, <i>Mr. Punch</i>, for a woman, I have gathered a great deal of +information in a few hours.</p> + +<p class="regards">Yours truthfully,</p> + +<p class="author"><span class="smcap">The Better Half of Somebody</span>.</p> + +<hr /> + +<h3>The Peccant Member.</h3> + +<center><i>A Wail by a Weary One.</i></center> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0"><span class="smcap">Parliament</span> sitting still—and in September!</p> +<p class="i0">It's all along of "the unruly member"—</p> +<p class="i0">That is, the tongue. But, to adapt it duly</p> +<p class="i0">To modern days, it should be called <i>Home</i>-Ruly!</p> +</div></div> + +<hr /><br /> + +<center>"<span class="smcap">Not in the Hunts.</span>"—Mr. <span class="smcap">Sanders</span>.</center><br /> + +<hr /> + +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[Pg 115]</a></span> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 60%"> +<a href="images/115.png"> +<img src="images/115.png" width="100%" alt="ON HIS OWN HOOK" /></a> +<h3>"ON HIS OWN HOOK!"</h3> +<p><span class="smcap">Judicious Joe.</span> "A BIT ROUGH—BUT, PLEASANTER THAN <i>HOME WATERS</i>—JUST +NOW!"</p> +</div> + +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[Pg 116]</a></span> + +<hr /> + +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[Pg 117]</a></span> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 80%"> +<a href="images/117.png"> +<img src="images/117.png" width="100%" alt="STREET PUZZLE. TO FIND LAW AND ORDER" /></a> +<h3>STREET PUZZLE. TO FIND LAW AND ORDER.</h3> +<center><span class="smcap">Strand, 10·45 P.M.</span></center> +</div> + +<hr /> + +<h2>CIRCUS PERFORMANCES.</h2> + +<p><span class="smcap">Sir,</span>—I see that there is a senseless outcry against the proposed plan +of the Board of Works to build on a portion of the open space now +available at Piccadilly Circus, and I write to protest against the +pestilent heresy that prompts it. What, Sir, I ask, has the Board to do +with "beauty"? As a public body, responsible to the ratepayers, they +have only one thing to consider, and that is, "utility." Why, then, +should they not seize upon every vacant inch of ground at their +disposal, and convert it into a Central Pig Market? Such a thing could +not be better installed than at the end of Regent Street, and here is +the very site for it. Expecting to see some active steps taken to set +this on foot,</p> + +<p class="regards">I am, Sir, your obedient Servant,</p> + +<p class="author"><span class="smcap">Nothing if not Practical</span>.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Sir,</span>—Your Correspondent, "<span class="smcap">One with an Eye to the Sublime</span>," is right in +attacking the gross Vandalism of the Board, but, in his proposed scheme +for statues and fountains, he falls miserably short of what is really +wanted to make Piccadilly Circus what it should be; namely, the grandest +open space in Europe. The ground should be cleared from St. James's +Church to Leicester Square, East and West, and opened up southwards the +whole width to the Duke of York's Column. Upon the space so secured, a +white marble pavement, broken only by colossal water-works, groups of +classic statuary, splendid monuments, and groves of orange-trees, should +be laid, and here, to the plash of silvery cascades, utterly +outrivalling the greatest display of which Versailles is capable, and, +to the music of half-a-dozen separate military bands, the jaded Londoner +should disport himself from morn to dewy eve. You ask as to the cost. +Well, a rate of fifteen shillings in the pound for a hundred and fifty +years would soon settle that, and I am sure there is not a taxpayer in +the parishes immediately concerned who would not willingly jump at this +trifling charge to see the scheme realised. At least, this is the view +at the present moment taken of the matter by</p> + +<p class="regards">Yours, obediently,</p> + +<p class="author"><span class="smcap">An Enthusiastic Outsider</span>.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Sir,</span>—They are talking of pulling down St. Mary-le-Strand and wish to +cut off the steps of St. Martin's. Why not <i>move them both</i> and set them +up back to back on the disputed ground? One could face Piccadilly and +the other look up Coventry Street. The idea is a happy one and has the +merit of bringing together in juxtaposition the works of our two great +<i>Renaissance</i> architects <span class="smcap">Gibbs</span> and <span class="smcap">Wren</span>. I offer it to your artistic +readers for what it is worth and beg to subscribe myself,</p> + +<p class="regards">Yours, tentatively,</p> + +<p class="author"><span class="smcap">A Local Mecænas</span>.</p> + +<p>Sir,—There was some time since some sensible talk of erecting a +gigantic iron tower in the neighbourhood of the St. Martin's Baths and +Wash Houses. Surely no finer site could be found for such an erection +than that provided by Piccadilly Circus. Here, with a sufficiently ample +base, such for instance as could be furnished by the entire available +space in question, a thing of the kind might rise to, say, the height of +1,000 feet and have one, two or even three theatres at the top. Several +restaurants could be accommodated on the upper floors, and the lower 500 +feet might be partly relegated to a sausage manufactory and partly let +out in chambers. The whole would afford a pleasing and striking <i>coup +d'œil</i> to any one approaching it either from Waterloo Place, +Piccadilly or Shaftesbury Avenue, and prove, I think, a happy compromise +and solution of the somewhat vexed question of the utilisation of the +disputed space. At least, so the matter strikes your suggestive +Correspondent,</p> + +<p class="author"><span class="smcap">A Hopeful Ædile</span>.</p> + +<hr /> + +<h2>LEARNING THE LANGUAGE.</h2> + +<center><i>A Page from his Bulgarian Ollendorff.</i></center> + +<p><span class="smcap">Have</span> you perceived the Triumphal Arch at the entry of the City?</p> + +<p>No, I have not perceived the Triumphal Arch at the entry of the City, +but I have noticed the cold shoulder of the Generals.</p> + +<p>This must be the congratulatory Round Robin of the Officers.</p> + +<p>Yes, it is the congratulatory Round Robin of the Officers, but here also +is the placard proclaiming me a Usurper.</p> + +<p>Has the Snub arrived from the Porte?</p> + +<p>Yes, the Snub has arrived from the Porte, and with it the Ultimatum from +the <span class="smcap">Czar</span>.</p> + +<p>In any emergency would you depend upon the omnibus horse provided for +you by the War Department?</p> + +<p>No, in any emergency I would not depend upon the omnibus horse provided +for me by the War Department, but on the list of trains proceeding to +the frontier, as furnished in the local <i>Bradshaw</i>.</p> + +<hr /> + +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[Pg 118]</a></span> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 40%"> +<a href="images/118.png"> +<img src="images/118.png" width="100%" alt="NAUGHTICAL?" /></a> +<h3>NAUGHTICAL?</h3> +<p><i>Yachting Friend (playfully).</i> "<span class="smcap">Have you any experience of Squalls, +Brown?</span>"</p> +<p><i>Brown.</i> "<span class="smcap">Squalls!</span>" (<i>Seriously.</i>) "<span class="smcap">My dear Sir, I've brought up Ten in +Family!</span>"</p> +</div> + +<hr /> + +<h2>FOR AN IRISH TRIP.</h2> + +<center>(<i>Some Preparatory Memoranda.</i>)</center> + +<p>1. To get up the early Celtic history, and establish my undoubted right +to call myself an Irishman, by tracing my pedigree directly back to +<span class="smcap">Fergus the First</span>.</p> + +<p>2. Lend colourable certainty to this by hiring a low-comedy Donnybrook +Fair suit from <span class="smcap">Nathan's</span>, and wearing it on all public occasions.</p> + +<p>3. Make arrangements to take a dozen lessons in jig-dancing and +shillelagh-flourishing from some recognised Music-Hall celebrity engaged +in this special line of business.</p> + +<p>4. Get the words of the <i>We'll have the Tail off the Cow, Pat</i>, and +other patriotic songs, by heart, and have an encore verse ready in case +of being called upon to give it in any popular emergency.</p> + +<p>5. Familiarise myself with the use of such expressions as "Whist! +Whist!" "Arrah! are ye shure now," "divil a bit!" and other Irish +colloquialisms, and accustom myself to interspersing my orations with +shrill whoops to give emphasis to a sentence or point to a period as +occasion may require or suggest.</p> + +<p>6. Conceive a defence of boycotting and bring it oratorically, in an +airy and genial way, within a measurable distance of legality, and back +it up if possible with some biblical and Homeric analogies.</p> + +<p>7. Study the Plan of Campaign practically, by hurling boiling pitch, +meal, lime and brickbats through a besieged cabin-window into the faces +of imaginary constabulary without.</p> + +<p>8. Habituate myself to mild indulgence in "potheen," occasional drinking +of confusion to the "Sassenach," and to taking care not to lose sight of +my return ticket.</p> + +<hr /> + +<h2>CASE-O'-MY-BANKER.</h2> + +<center>(<i>The Story of Another Child.</i>)</center> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0"><span class="smcap">The</span> Boy stood in the sweltering street,</p> +<p class="i2">Whence all but he had fled;</p> +<p class="i0">The fast-departing dog-days' heat,</p> +<p class="i2">Flamed full upon his head.</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0">He was not beautiful nor bright,</p> +<p class="i2">Nor born to rule the storm;</p> +<p class="i0">A most unlucky urban wight;</p> +<p class="i2">A small, yet grimy, form.</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0">His parents could not grant the boon</p> +<p class="i2">—A fortnight's Country air;</p> +<p class="i0">They would have spared him precious soon,</p> +<p class="i2">But had no cash to spare!</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0">He called aloud: "Kind Public, say,</p> +<p class="i2">If me you have forgot!"</p> +<p class="i0">But far from Town the Public play</p> +<p class="i2">Unconscious of his lot.</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0">"Speak, millionnaires," again he cried,</p> +<p class="i2">"If I may not levant!"</p> +<p class="i0">And but the falling leaves replied,</p> +<p class="i2">And daylight growing scant.</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0">Upon his brow he felt the breath</p> +<p class="i2">Of summer slowly fail,</p> +<p class="i0">And looked and prayed for kindly aid,</p> +<p class="i2">As seaman for a sail.</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0">Meanwhile the Children's Country Fund,</p> +<p class="i2">Formed near the roaring Strand,</p> +<p class="i0">(At Buck'n'ham Street, the Number Ten,)</p> +<p class="i2">Had no more cash in hand!</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0">He murmured faintly once again,</p> +<p class="i2">"Kind Public, must I stay?"</p> +<p class="i0">While to the seaside cab and train</p> +<p class="i2">Bore happier lads away.</p> +</div></div> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0">Ah, Public! You this Summer's heat</p> +<p class="i2">Have felt at Pleasure's marts;</p> +<p class="i0">Think how you'd like it in the street,</p> +<p class="i2">Before it quite departs!</p> +</div></div> + +<hr /> + +<h3>A Real Sporting Event.</h3> + +<p><span class="smcap">Arrow-throwing</span> is said to be the latest new sport—in Yorkshire. Newer +even than Frog-spearing in France! What next? Perhaps "Javelin-men" will +soon mean something modern, and not perfunctory. Then +"Hatchet-throwing"—in a sense having no relation to travellers' +taradiddles—may become the vogue; and Mr. <span class="smcap">Hanbury</span>, who is so much +concerned about the Salary of the Master of the Hawks, may move in the +House to have it transferred to a new and actual public functionary—the +Master of the Tomahawks.</p> + +<hr /><br /> + +<p><span class="smcap">Geologists</span> talk learnedly about the immense antiquity of what they call +"the Coal measures." The modern coal-measures, needed now, are measures +for arming our Coaling Stations.</p><br /> + +<hr /> + +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[Pg 119]</a></span> + +<h2>ESSENCE OF PARLIAMENT.</h2> + +<center><i>From the Notes of a Colleague of the Member for Barkshire.</i></center> + +<p><i>House of Commons, Monday, August 29.</i>—I was afraid that <span class="smcap">Toby</span> would +give himself a holiday. For some time since the Whips have kept an +uneasy eye upon the most independent, the most talented, the most +industrious of their following. And now he has gone! "He will return—I +know he will," before the end of the Session; but for the moment he is +away—the deadly dulness that prevailed at Westminster a fortnight since +was too much for him; and so I follow him in the House—be it well +understood, at a respectful distance. His absence will not be pleasing +to any one—even the sprightly <span class="smcap">Akers Douglas</span>, forgetting for the moment +the destination of votes, will regret him. But, as he good-naturedly +observes, under the impression that he is adapting <span class="smcap">Shakspeare</span> to the +exigencies of the situation, "Votes may come and votes may go, but the +Session seemingly goes on for ever!"</p> + +<div class="figleft" style="width: 30%"> +<a href="images/119a.png"> +<img src="images/119a.png" width="100%" alt="Akers Douglas" /></a> +<h3>A. Ak-rs D--gl-s.</h3> +</div> + +<p>To return to August 29. The Patriots have determined it shall be a grand +week for the "Ould Counthry." Many previous weeks have been equally +grand weeks, or as they would put it "months." When the <span class="smcap">Speaker</span> took his +seat, scarcely a quorum present. Ministerialists "in reserve," (like +policemen when some one writes to tell Sir C. <span class="smcap">Warren</span> he is going to +demonstrate in Trafalgar Square) in various parts of the House. +Gladstonian Whips well <i>en évidence</i> to act as guides to sole +representatives of the Non-Dissentient Liberals, <span class="smcap">Woodall</span> and <span class="smcap">Childers</span>.</p> + +<p>Unprejudiced North Briton <span class="smcap">Douglas Crawford</span> has a question for young +<span class="smcap">Northcote</span> about pig-iron and coal. Seemingly Scotch firms have been +overlooked. Surveyor-General of Ordnance very gravely answers question, +goes home and tenders his resignation, "in consequence of recommendation +of Committee reporting upon War Office organising and suggesting +changes." <span class="smcap">Northcote</span> had enough of it. Couldn't even say something funny +about "burning questions <i>re</i> coal generally ending in smoke."</p> + +<p>After <span class="smcap">Joicey</span> had wanted to know why great guns should be let off at +Tynemouth Castle, and <span class="smcap">Stanhope</span> had promised that for the future they +should be fired (if possible) in a whisper ("Savours of a bang," put in +<span class="smcap">Childers</span>, <i>sotto voce</i>), the Irish gentlemen got to their favourite +sport, <span class="smcap">King-Harman</span> baiting. They had one or two good sets-to, making it +particularly unpleasant for the Under Secretary about the trial of +<span class="smcap">O'Brien</span>, Resident Magistrates, and Horse-breeding. But this "illigant +divarsion" was only a sort of <i>hors d'œuvres</i> to the <i>pièce de +résistance</i>, "Supply—Irish Votes," which was as strong and savoury as +the National Stew itself.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Dillon</span> began the ball by moving a reduction of the Constabulary Votes, +saying that the chief duties of the officers were, driving out with the +Country Gentlemen, flirting with all the Young Girls, and shooting with +the Landlords.</p> + +<div class="figright" style="width: 20%"> +<a href="images/119b.png"> +<img src="images/119b.png" width="100%" alt="H. Northcote" /></a> +<h3>H. N-rthc-te.</h3> +</div> + +<p>"Ah, so it is," said <span class="smcap">Joseph Gillis</span>, with a flush of scarlet indignation +mounting his noble brow, "It's not the driving and shooting I object +to—it's the flirting!"</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Joseph Gillis</span> is very excitable when the fair sex is mentioned, and no +doubt meant what he said.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Tim Healy</span> followed on, regretting that <span class="smcap">Grandolph</span> was not there, no doubt +for the same reason that the Irish gentleman with a shillelagh was sorry +to see no bald pates neat and handy. He said that the Boycotted were the +happiest inmates of the distressful country, possibly feeling that they +had plenty of time for drinking and fighting.</p> + +<p>Then the various votes were taken and "talked at," in the customary way +until the hands of the clock marked Three in the morning. Whenever a +chance showed itself of a war-whoop—whiz—and down came the club upon +somebody—anybody. A couple of hours after midnight the Irishmen became +more conciliatory, soothed by the thought that on the following evening +they would have <span class="smcap">King-Harman</span> at their mercy.</p> + +<p>"He will take a deal of bating," said <span class="smcap">Tim</span>, "but whist, you will see how +I shall get at him. He's been to Cremorne——"</p> + +<p>"Fie, for shame!" cried <span class="smcap">Joseph Gillis</span>, "don't talk of such sinful +places!"</p> + +<div class="figleft" style="width: 25%"> +<a href="images/119c.png"> +<img src="images/119c.png" width="100%" alt="Small and Bigger" /></a> +<h3>Sm-ll and B-gg-r.</h3> +</div> + +<p><i>Tuesday.</i>—Lords had a real good afternoon's work. The <span class="smcap">Lord Chancellor</span> +(with his usual grace—rather suggestive of the <i>pavan</i> in the Gray's +Inn Maske) took his seat at 4·30. Squabble about the Woman's Suffrage +Bill, which, after being deferred for six months, had come up +again—scowling. Lord <span class="smcap">Denman</span> proposed "previous question," but <span class="smcap">Lord +Chancellor</span> (great tactician, but not great lawyer) suggested the matter +should stand over until the next sitting. Reproach of "got no work to +do" consequently removed from the Upper House.</p> + +<p>Lords adjourned at Five o'Clock for a week, to recover from their +exertions.</p> + +<p>"Whist, bhoys, be aisy now," said <span class="smcap">Tim</span>, in the Commons, when <span class="smcap">King-Harman</span> +was seen going to his dinner. Then came the deluge.</p> + +<p>"It is grand, Sorr," said the only Home-Ruler who does not use an +accent; "it is just illigant, Sorr; and it's myself is proud of this +day."</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Tim</span> walked into the Under Secretary with "joy." He "scathed" him, and +said all manner of things about him. He used, amongst other weapons his +legal knowledge (<span class="smcap">Tim</span> is a great authority upon all legal questions) to +describe him as a "returned convict."</p> + +<p>"Look at that now!" observed <span class="smcap">Joseph Gillis</span>. "It's disgraceful that we +should be ruled by a man who has assaulted the perlice!"</p> + +<p>In the midst of the excitement <span class="smcap">King-Harman</span> suddenly returned from his +dinner. No doubt he had sacrificed, in his haste to defend himself, or +rather, what the only Home-Ruler who does not use an accent calls his +"Ka-rack-tare," from the aspersions of the "inimy," three courses, a +dessert, to say nothing of a cup of coffee and a <i>chasse</i>. He drew a +picture of being a lad of two-and-twenty when he assaulted the police at +Cremorne. Would not Hon. Members of Home-Rule persuasion have done the +same at that age? Indignant denial of the entire Home-Rule Party, who +are horrified this suggestion! "Would <i>they</i> tread on the tail of +anybody's coat? And at two-and-twenty? Look at that, now! Bedad! they +would just like to get at the Under Secretary's head with a shillelagh +for making such a suggestion."</p> + +<p>And so the war was carried on, <span class="smcap">Tim's</span> heart being at last softened by +<span class="smcap">King-Harman</span> declaring that he had saved him from ill-treatment at +Dungannon at the hands of some gentlemen who wanted to show him "how to +cheer for the <span class="smcap">Queen</span>" with a stick. "I got hold of the men by the neck +and hurled them back," cried <span class="smcap">King-Harman</span>, unsuccessfully controlling his +emotion, "and now he—he—he says I got into a ro—ow—ow at Cremorne."</p> + +<div class="figright" style="width: 30%"> +<a href="images/119d.png"> +<img src="images/119d.png" width="100%" alt="Matthews" /></a> +<h3>M-tth-ws.</h3> +</div> + +<p>"Craymorne, not Cremorne," shouted the Home-Rulers who are proud of +accuracy.</p> + +<p>And while all this excitement reigned around, the <span class="smcap">Home Secretary<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[Pg 120]</a></span></span> sat +smiling, glad for once and away to be out of his customary hot corner. +However, all passed off peacefully and no bones were broken.</p> + +<p><i>Thursday.</i>—House very thin during Question Time, and attendance of +Ministerialists during the entire sitting very scanty, considering the +programme. Then there was an incident. Incident came about this way. +<span class="smcap">Dillon</span> had been seen during hour allowed for Minister-baiting reading +the huge print of an enormous green placard. First impression he had +grown short-sighted, and required larger type; second, that he meant +mischief. Second impression right one. So to raise the question of the +proclamation of the Ennis County Clare Meeting he asked permission to +move adjournment of debate. <span class="smcap">Speaker</span> put it, were there requisite number +of Members present ready to sanction a regular first-class, A 1, +whack-where-you-will, go-as-you-please, Irish row? <span class="smcap">Speaker</span> used more +Parliamentary language than this, but that was about his meaning. Sixty +Members sprang to their feet to testify their desire not to quarrel, but +to uphold constitutional privileges in the most peaceable manner in the +world. And then the row began.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Dillon</span> had first shot. Meeting was to be of the most peaceful character. +All that the boys wanted to do was to remind one another of their +inalienable right to denounce the wanton and overbearing conduct of the +Government. They would say this in the most illigant manner imaginable, +without giving offence to anybody. He was going to speak to the boys +himself, and so was Mr. <span class="smcap">William O'Brien</span>, and so was Mr. <span class="smcap">Philip Stanhope</span>. +Sure, now, what harm could there be, especially as the meeting was not +to be held in a part of the country that wanted pacifying? And because +some rack-renting landlords, wild with fury, and shaking in their shoes +with apprehension, asked for it to be proclaimed, it was to be! Could +this be tolerated? No! He would be off that very evening to brave the +bayonet, the buckshot, the battle and the breeze!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Balfour</span> mildly remonstrating. Ennis, County Clare, best possible place +in the world; but meeting might cause peasantry to lose the Arcadian +innocence for which they are at present distinguished. Murmurs from +Home-Rulers, and, later on, "outrage" by <span class="smcap">Phil Stanhope</span>, who actually had +the audacity to speak of Chief Secretary as a "whimsical and +lackadaisical gentleman." The <span class="smcap">Speaker</span> sprang to his feet, and sharply +rebuked the outrager. Only fancy! Calling <span class="smcap">Arthur Balfour's</span> manner +whimsical! and lackadaisical! So monstrous! So blood-curdling! so +untrue!</p> + +<p>The usual gentlemen who patronise the "divarsion" having had their full +share of the fun, the debate was brought to a conclusion. Then the +gentlemen turned their attention to the remaining Irish Estimates, and +enjoyed themselves until the next morning.</p> + +<p><i>Friday and Saturday.</i>—Sittings at this time of the year get so mixed, +that they take two days to give a single date. Committee of the House as +before; Irish Estimates as before; "illigant divarsion" as before. And +so, half asleep, the remains of what, a few months ago, had been a +self-respecting House of Commons continued its dreary Session.</p> + +<p><i>Total for the Week.</i>—Irish Business carried on in Irish manner, and +<span class="smcap">Chamberlain</span> booked for Canada.</p> + +<hr /> + +<h2>SOME NOTES AT STARMOUTH.</h2> + +<p><span class="smcap">An</span> outcast once more! I exchange the blessing invoked on the perfidious +<span class="smcap">Plapper</span> for curse of equal calibre. On—on—like the Wandering Jew, or +the Pilgrim of Love. No rest but the hotel for me! Starmouth landladies +beginning to enter into the humour of the thing—they appear now with a +broad grin, repeated on faces of accepted lodgers at windows. They +evidently do not consider me a sound investment. Meet other homeless +ones, searching—we scowl at one another jealously.</p> + +<div class="figleft" style="width: 30%"> +<a href="images/120a.png"> +<img src="images/120a.png" width="100%" alt="Sound Investment" /></a> +<h3>Sound Investment.</h3> +</div> + +<p>Evening is getting on—which is more than I am. Sinking into a state of +maudlin self-pity. My poor Drama—and all the things I ordered to be +sent in to <span class="smcap">Plapper's</span>! He, or his lodger, will read by <i>my</i> lamp, bathe +in <i>my</i> bath, feed on my jam—while I ... but I cannot trust myself to +think of it—or Starmouth may lose one of its leading opticians?.... +Later—<i>saved!</i> It still seems incredible to me—but I have rooms at +last! At Mrs. <span class="smcap">Surge's</span>—a widow lady, who, as she tells me herself, has +not been in a hurry to put up her card, as she likes "to pick her +lodgers." And she has picked Me—me, the Blighted, the scorned of +Starmouth! No sea-view—but plenty of horsehair. Sunflowers and +mignonette in long front garden; bow-window, and regiment of geraniums +drawn up in pots on little table. Go back, and recover luggage.</p> + +<p>Return to Mrs. <span class="smcap">Surge's</span> roof, not without nervous apprehensions—she may +repent, or I might find the house a smoking ruin. Can't get over an idea +that the Fates are pursuing me. However, they seem to be taking a rest +just now. I am free at last to study Starmouth. Hitherto I have had eyes +for nothing but little cards with "Apartments" on them.</p> + +<p>No doubt about Starmouth being full. Streets crowded. Most of the young +men promenading in flannels and cricket "blazers," of startling +brilliancy. Children, young girls, and stout matrons in striped linen +yachting-caps. (When you are elderly, and at all stout, you do <i>not</i> +appear to advantage in this form of head-dress.) <i>Chars-à-bancs</i>, flys, +tricycles, goat-chaises. Always thought Starmouth was a picturesque +fishing-village, with windmills, wooden huts, and drying-nets along +beach. It isn't.</p> + +<p>Still, of course, the change from all London associations, the absolute +quiet must have tendency to refresh the fagged brain. (Always rather a +gratifying reflection somehow, to think one has a fagged brain.) I +observe they are doing <i>Our Boys</i> at the theatre. At the Aquarium are +the <span class="smcap">Buffon</span> Brothers with their celebrated Acrobatic Ass "from all the +London Music-Halls." Switchback Railway, too, on the beach, and +automatic machines about every five yards. Plenty of life here.</p> + +<div class="figright" style="width: 30%"> +<a href="images/120b.png"> +<img src="images/120b.png" width="100%" alt="As caption" /></a> +<h3>Is-linked-on.</h3> +</div> + +<p>I am becoming gradually aware that Starmouth, though full, is not +exactly fashionable. I infer this, partly from the fact that already I +instinctively turn round to look curiously at the speaker, when I hear a +duly aspirated "h," <i>à la mode d'Islington</i>, partly from the prevalence +and popularity of the whelk-stalls on the Esplanade. Really good +society, even in its laxest mood, would scarcely support quite so many.</p> + +<p>On the Pier. Military Band. View of Beach from sea very beautiful at +night, fairy-like effect of continuous line of light from whelk-stalls. +Yet one would hesitate to put a touch of description like that into a +novel—curious the prudery of fiction, your realistic French author +would describe contents of all the little saucers. That is <i>Art</i>, and I +shall see if I can work it in to my drama somehow.</p> + +<p>Leave Pier. Back to Esplanade. Crowd round young man singing to +concertina a ditty about a certain <span class="smcap">Jemima</span> who though "so fond of her +beer, was always a Mug."</p> + +<p>Sentimental Song, to harp, at next corner. About a Stowaway, with golden +curls, and "dear baby lips," and "sweet little eyes," how a cruel Mate +found him in the hold, and was so touched that he kissed him on the +forehead for speaking the "tree-youth," and the crew wept. Most +pathetic—Singer himself compelled to retire to public-house at +conclusion.</p> + +<p>Bed. Dream my Nautical Drama accepted by Mr. <span class="smcap">Irving</span>—a <i>waking</i> dream, +too!</p> + +<p><i>Sunday.</i>—Breakfast. My landlady evidently person of strict propriety. +My two boiled eggs come in dressed in little red-worsted petticoats. It +never occurred to me before that a bare egg was calculated to call up a +blush—but really they make me feel almost shy now—they do look so coy, +so modest in their simple attire. Possibly, though, Starmouth eggs are +not very strong, and require artificial warmth.</p> + +<div class="figleft" style="width: 25%"> +<a href="images/120c.png"> +<img src="images/120c.png" width="100%" alt="Holloway" /></a> +<h3>Holloway.</h3> +</div> + +<p>Bells. Stream of people, looking good, in tall hats and best things, +going inland—unregenerate stream, in tweeds, making for sands. +Salvation Army, with fervent but tactless drum. Sunday not a day for +Nautical Drama. Beach, "Will I take a tract?" Hate being rude, so +accept.... I have gone a hundred yards, and I have fourteen +tracts—almost enough to start distributing on my own account.</p> + +<p><i>Evening.</i>—Sacred Music. That is, I go to pier when Military Band is +playing. Band certainly broad in its views—I find them performing an +unmistakable polka. There are sacred dances, I know, in Oratorios—but +surely not <i>polkas</i>? As they follow it up with <i>Faust</i>, and the +<i>Jeunesse Dorée</i> Valse, I realise that I am on the secular, or Trafalgar +Pier—it is <i>Waterloo</i> Pier that has the Sacred Band.</p> + +<div class="figright" style="width: 30%"> +<a href="images/120d.png"> +<img src="images/120d.png" width="100%" alt="As caption" /></a> +<h3>My Lend.</h3> +</div> + +<p>Crush tremendous; all the art, chivalry, and beauty of Holloway and Mile +End pass in dazzling procession before me. "Shouldn't you laugh if this +old pier was to come down, eh? There's a tidy lot on it," observes a +Blazer to a Yachting Cap. "I should 'ang on to you if it did," responds +the Cap, tenderly—"we'd all gow down together!"</p> + +<p>The pier is certainly crowded—is it strong? Don't like the idea of +going down with my Drama unwritten. Shall retire—good night's rest, and +then start fresh with Drama in morning.</p><br /> + +<hr /> + +<div class="figleft" style="width: 45px;"> +<img src="images/120e.gif" width="45" height="20" alt="pointing finger" /> +</div> + +<p>NOTICE.—Rejected Communications or Contributions, +whether MS., Printed Matter, Drawings, or Pictures of any description, +will in no case be returned, not even when accompanied by a Stamped and +Addressed Envelope, Cover, or Wrapper. To this rule there will be no +exception.</p> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Punch, or the London Charivari. 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Volume 93, +September 10, 1887, by Various + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Punch, or the London Charivari. Volume 93, September 10, 1887 + +Author: Various + +Release Date: September 1, 2010 [EBook #33600] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PUNCH *** + + + + +Produced by Neville Allen, Malcolm Farmer and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + + + + + PUNCH, + + OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. + + VOLUME 93. + + SEPTEMBER 10, 1887. + + * * * * * + +STRANGE ADVENTURES OF ASCENA LUKINGLASSE. + +(_By_ PHIL UPPES, _Author of "An Out-of-Luck Young Man," "Jack and Jill +went up the Hill," "The Bishop and his Grandmother," &c._) + +ASCENA'S NARRATIVE. + +THE story which I have to tell is more than strange. It is so terrible, +so incredible, so entirely contrary to all that any ordinary reader of +the _London Journal_ or the "penny dreadfuls" has ever heard of, that +even now I have some doubt in telling it. I happen, however, to know it +is true, and so does my husband. My husband will come in presently with +his narrative. There! that ought to make you curious. A very good +commencement. + +My early life was uneventful. I was a foundling. I was left with two old +ladies (I fancy I may work them up some day into "character" sketches) +by a perfect gentleman, who, after giving them L200, went away the next +morning to Vienna for ever. He left with these two old ladies a little +wardrobe full of clothes, but there was not a mark, nor so much as an +initial, upon a single thing. They had all been cut out with a sharp +pair of scissors. + +This again ought to excite your curiosity. Bear it in mind. Mysterious +parentage--no mother, no marks, and father gone to Vienna for ever. + +The two old ladies kept a school, in which I first was a scholar, then a +teacher. There I remained until I was seventeen, when I was tall and +strong for my age, and looked more like three or four and twenty. One +day one of the old ladies said to me-- + +"Now, my dear, I will tell you what we are going to do. We are going to +sell the school, and buy a little cottage at Bognor. It doesn't face the +sea, and just holds two. So, as we have considered you more or less our +own daughter, we are going to kick you out. Now don't let's talk any +more about it to-day, but tell us to-morrow at breakfast, like a dear +good girl, that we are going to do what you wish." + +"I shall tell you to-morrow," I answered, firmly. "I'll pretend to think +the matter over with all my might and main, until to-morrow morning, and +then give you an answer as solemnly weighed, and as carefully set out, +as a Saturday afternoon essay." + +So I was kicked out. + +I became a governess in the household of Mrs. COWSTREAM. That household +consisted of the master, whose manner was what old ladies in +Lincolnshire call "rampageous," the children, who were, beyond doubt, +hopelessly dull, and the mistress, who was colourless. + +Nothing particularly happened save my dismissal (after receiving a +salary of about a thousand to twelve-hundred a year) within six months. +With about four-hundred pounds in hand I went to the Charing Cross +Hotel. + +I feel I am a little plot-less. So far: foundling, old ladies at Bognor, +aimless engagement by Mrs. COWSTREAM and advertisement for the Charing +Cross Hotel. All good in their way, but not quite enough. I want an +incident. I have it. + +Having untold gold, I thought I would buy some gloves in the Tottenham +Court Road. I entered an omnibus, was much struck by an old woman who +sat next me, bought the gloves, was arrested as a thief for passing +false money and saved from penal servitude for life by old woman. Come, +there's action for you! Still, I don't know why it is, but we don't seem +to get much "forrader." + +The old woman hurried me about from place to place feeding me simply on +grapes and bonbons. For some reason I was not allowed to know where I +was. I didn't want to, and not caring a brass-farthing for the selfish +old ladies at Bognor, it mattered nothing to me whether they heard from +me or not. After a time the old woman asked me to sign this with my +blood. + +"In consideration of seven pounds a week, I agree to sell my dreams +between sunset and sunrise, the payment ceasing on my death, and my +dreams, if any, immediately becoming only, and unconditionally my own." + +I broke out laughing and signed it. Then the old woman said:-- + +"I am old enough to be your mother, and I am sure you know I feel kindly +towards you. I am not entirely my own mistress--think well of me if you +can." + +Then placing by my side a little bottle of champagne, potted meats, +Devonshire cream, and dainty biscuits of various kinds, she left me. The +next day I was kicked out and carried in a carriage to Dawlish. I had a +nice little dinner--tender beefsteak, new potatoes, asparagus and +spinach, a bottle of sound port and a ripe stilton. After this, somehow +or other, I had a restless night. I was tormented with strange dreams in +which appeared a person whom I had never seen in my life. Certainly not +that I can remember. He was an old man wearing an immense opal on his +right-hand little finger. I had never seen such an opal before. The +dream was confused, I can only give these facts about it. + +Let's see how I am getting on. Mysterious parentage. School life. Old +woman in omnibus, ghastly-comical agreement, heavy dinner and consequent +nightmare. Is that all? No, I have forgotten the advertisement for the +Charing Cross Hotel. All told, I can't say that there is much in my +story. Must get on. More heavy dinners, more nightmares. Went to +Brighton. Saw Doctor who said, "Your nerves are out of order, you are +suffering from a malady called Incipient Detearia. What do you drink?" + +"Nothing but port, maraschino, and champagne." + +"Quite right. Persevere. I am going away for a fortnight. Continue your +diet, and, when I return, I will come and see you again. By that time +your malady will have reached an acute stage. By the way, do you ever +eat?" + +"Not as much as I drink. I sometimes have a plate of turtle soup, but +chiefly as an excuse for a glass of punch." + +"Quite so. Good day." + +After this, my dreams became more and more confused, and I grew quite +ill. Then I met a gentleman at the _table d'hote_, called Captain +CHARLES. He was most kind, asked me on board his yacht, and, when we had +got to Dieppe, said,-- + +"Miss ASCENA, I think we both understand each other. I am afraid I have +done very wrong in kidnapping you. Well, now, I am going to put a +question to you, straight and fair. When the yacht slipped anchor at +Brighton, I had a marriage-licence in our names, in a morocco case in my +pocket, upon which any clergyman on the Continent is bound to act. It's +no Gretna-Green business, I can assure you." + +"I'll talk about it this afternoon, if I am well enough," I said, +holding on to a rope (it was very rough), and, feeling myself turning +deadly pale. + +"Are you married already?" he asked, with a something like a choking in +his mouth. + +"No, no, no," I cried. "I like you very much." + +I got out of the general embarrassment by fainting away until I found +myself in the Hotel Royal, Dieppe. + +Again I pause to say that I fancy somehow I am making a mess of this +story. To my list I have added an absolutely pointless and superfluous +case of kidnapping, which would be unpleasant were it not ridiculous. + +Well, the Doctor came, and said I was to have a large glass of port wine +and a small glass of beef tea every ten minutes. This did me good. After +a few hours of this treatment, feeling more communicative, I told +Captain CHARLES all I have written here. I also explained to him my +difficulty in carrying on my tale without a _collaborateur_. + +He stooped over me, kissed me gently on the forehead, and said-- + +"Never mind, dearest. I will send for a curious old man from Strasburg, +and have myself a shot at the story. Two pens are better than one." + +I could only wonder how it would all end, and, vaguely hope for the +best. + +CAPTAIN CHARLES' NARRATIVE. + +My name is ALBERT CHARLES. I have a curious old friend who lives at +Strasburg, called OUTHOUSE. I am CHARLES, his friend. I wrote to +OUTHOUSE and told him Miss LUKINGLASSE'S story--of course, in +unscientific language. He replied, it was deeply interesting, and he +would come to me at once. He arrived, and immediately performed the old +"drop of ink trick," where, it will be remembered, a chap is made to +describe what he sees in a little writing-fluid. + +Then OUTHOUSE turned to me with a strangely solemn face. + +"We have got our finger," said he, "on the tarantula in his hole, the +viper in his lair, the _pieuvre_ in his cave. Such monsters should not +be allowed to live." + +I was bewildered. We made our way from Newhaven to Chislehurst. We +called upon the old man with the opal, of whom we had so often talked. +He trembled. OUTHOUSE seemed to swell to twice his natural height. Then +the old chap with the opal appeared to wither under his gaze. Then he +changed to all manner of colours, and literally exploded. He went off +with a feeble bang, like a cheap firework. Not waiting to pick up his +pieces, we returned to Dieppe, collared the omnibus old woman (whom we +found on the point of strangling ASCENA), and got her sent to prison, +where she very properly committed suicide to save us further +embarrassment. After these preliminaries had been successfully +accomplished, I am pleased to say that ASCENA enjoyed peaceful dreams +and sweet repose. + +There now! I have cleared up things pretty well, and don't think it bad +for a first attempt. + +ASCENA'S NARRATIVE. + +I am married to Captain CHARLES, and OUTHOUSE is to live with us for +ever. This is pleasant. I am a little disappointed that circumstances +over which I have no control should prevent me from telling you why I +was a foundling, what was done with my juvenile wardrobe, why my father +never returned from Vienna, what on earth became of my dreams when I +sold them to somebody or other for a pound a day--in fact, what it is +all about. You will say that I am a fraud, a mistake, an unconsidered +trifle. You will be right. Mrs. Captain CHARLES is very stupid and +commonplace. Alas! there has been a great falling off since the days of +ASCENA LUKINGLASSE! + + * * * * * + +[Illustration: A PARVENU. + +(THE COMING ARISTOCRACY OF MIND.) + +_He._ "CHARMING YOUTH, THAT YOUNG BELLAMY--SUCH A REFINED AND CULTIVATED +INTELLECT! WHEN YOU THINK WHAT HE'S _RISEN_ FROM, POOR FELLOW, IT REALLY +DOES HIM CREDIT!" + +_She._ "WHY, WERE HIS PEOPLE--A--INFERIAH!" + +_He._ "WELL, YES. HIS GRANDFATHER'S AN EARL, YOU KNOW, AND HIS UNCLE'S A +BISHOP; AND HE _HIMSELF_ IS HEIR TO AN OLD BARONETCY WITH EIGHTY +THOUSAND A YEAR!"] + + * * * * * + +A TALE OF TERROR. + +HE sat, or rather grovelled, amongst a pile of daily newspapers. His +eyes were wilder, much wilder, than the Wild West of BUFFALO-BILL, his +hair was as dishevelled as that of an infuriated Irish M.P. after an +All-night Sitting. He looked as mad as a hatter. + +"What ails you?" I inquired, sympathetically, soothingly. For all +answer--as the ebulliently sentimental she-novelist saith--he pointed to +the pell-mell pile of morning papers. + +"Poor fellow!" said I. "Have you then been trying to understand Sir +HENRY ROSCOE'S erudite Address to the British Association?" + +He shook his head emphatically. + +"Or to make head or tail, flesh, fowl, or good red herring of one of +AUBERON HERBERT'S acidulous jeremiads?" + +Again he shook his head, and tore his hair at the same time. + +"Or to learn from MATTHEW ARNOLD'S moony meanderings, complacent +assumptions, and tart imputations, what is the real nature of his +favourite, quiet, reasonable person, + +'Asperitatis et invidiae corrector et irae?'" + +Once more that action of decided dissent. + +"Then perhaps you have been trying to find the 'sweet reasonableness,' +and the invaluable 'dry light' of Science in Professor TYNDALL'S furious +fulminations from the Alps?" + +"Nay, nay, not so," he sobbed, insanely. + +"You may have been endeavouring to reconcile all Mr. GLADSTONE'S +Home-Rule utterances during the last ten years, to identify the Mr. +BRIGHT of to-day with the People's Tribune of forty years syne, to +measure the motives of Mr. CHAMBERLAIN, or appraise the intrinsic +importance of JESSE, 'the Member for Three Acres and a Cow?'" + +"Alas, no!" + +"Humph! You cannot possibly have been so foolish as to venture the +brain-dizzying dangers of a course of the 'Thunderer's' tempestuous +Home-Rule leaders?" + +He had not, and intimated as much, mournfully. + +"Dear me! Desperate man, _do_ not say that you have been trying to +analyse the authoritative 'Analyses' of this year's County Cricketing, +to test their apportionment of champion honours, or track out their +distracting decimals to their last hidden lair!" + +"Worse than that--far worse!" he moonily muttered. + +"You alarm me, rash man!" I cried. "Can it possibly be that from a +comparison of the works of the (Sporting) Prophets you have foolishly +essayed to spot the winner of the coming St. Leger?" + +"No such luck," said he, with a shudder. + +I drew near to him, and whispered low in his ear-- + +"Have you--_have_ you been seeking the meaning of the verses of some +peer-poet in the _Morning Post_?" + +"Would--_would_ it were but that," he groaned, picking a single straw +from the truss or so that stuck porcupine-quill-wise in his tangled fell +of hair. + +"I have it!" I cried. "You have an attack of veritable 'Whitmania,' +arising from a too long indulgence in the intoxicating yet enervating +flow of Swinburnian superlatives?" + +"The deuce a bit of it," he snapped, testily. + +I was growing impatient, and inclined "to give it up." + +"Oh! this is worse than ARGYLL on Political Economy, or a Double +Acrostic!" I grumbled, angrily. "What in the name of Eleusis _have_ you +been up to?" + +"_Listen!_" he whispered, placing his lips close to my ears; "listen, +and marvel if you may; aid me if you can. _I have been trying, by a +comparison of the comments thereupon in the various party papers, to +understand the real significance of a_ BYE-ELECTION!!!" + +"Miserable man!" I gasped, "that way indeed Madness lies. Know you not +that human imbecility in those identical comments reaches its absolutely +'lowest deep' of abject folly and crazy inconsequence. Know you not that +nothing--positively _nothing_ in the whole history of this crack-brained +world--is so mad and so maddening as a Tory article on a bye-election +won by a Liberal, or a Liberal article on a bye-election gained by a +Tory? Know you not that in these dismally, delirious lucubrations, all +the rules of arithmetic, all the laws of logic, all the palpable +bearings of facts, all the obvious meanings of words, to say nothing of +the dictates of veracity, and the impulse of fairness, are deliberately +inverted, perverted, played moral havoc and intellectual pitch-and-toss +with? Know you not that the gibberings of Bedlam are clear and continent +sense compared with the argufyings of a party-scribe 'explaining away' +an opponent's success, or picturing an ally's crushing defeat as a +'moral victory?' Know you not that the (supposed) necessity of penning +such frantic fustian makes a Tory Thunderer drivel like a drunken +THERSITES, and a Radical RHADAMANTHUS equivocate like a pettifogging +attorney? Know you not----?" + +But with a howl of horror the wretched victim of party silliness and +factious sophistry pitched head-first amidst the pile of papers--MAD!!! + + * * * * * + +Laissez-Faire. + + "I believe, if you would let alone this unhappy peasantry, there + would be no difficulty whatever."--Mr. BALFOUR, _on the Irish + Question_. + + THE Irish Landlord has lost his tenants, + And doesn't know where to find them; + Let them alone, and they'll come home, + And bring rents (in their pockets) behind them. + + * * * * * + +A REAL "INKY FLOOD." + +"HERE lies one whose name was written in water," the sad but happily +inappropriate epitaph which KEATS suggested for himself. Had he lived in +our days he would have felt it to be equivocal. People are writing to +the papers with "ink," said to be made out of Thames water. Styx itself +was surely nothing to this. An inkstand has been called "_mare nigrum_," +but hitherto no poetic trope-maker has been bold enough to speak of a +river as an inkstand. Facts _are_ stranger than fiction! + + * * * * * + +'ARRY AT THE SEA-SIDE. + + DEAR CHARLIE, + + 'Ow are you, old oyster? _I_'m doin' the briny, dear boy; + Got my usual fortnit, yer know, as I makes it a pint to enjoy, + Things is quisby at 'ome, and they pressed me to chuck up my annual + spree, + And stand by to look arter the mater who's down with rheumatics. Not me! + + Relations are that bloomin' selfish it fair gives a feller the sick, + I'm jest tidy myself, flush of tin, with no end of a thunderin' "pick," + And now I've a chance of a outing to keep myself up to the mark, + I'm to stay in the doldrums at 'ome! It's _too_ much of a screamin' + old lark. + + No, CHARLIE, boy, self-preservation's the fust law of Nature, yer know; + So I jest slung my 'ook like a shot and came here for a bite and a blow. + I'm as red as a bloomin' tomarter already, and talk about stodge! + Jest you arsk the old mivvey as caters for me at the crib where I lodge. + + Number Seventeen, Paragon Place, is my diggings, mate, floor + Number Three, + From the right'and bow-winder's off-corner you ketch a side-squint of + the sea. + White stucco and hemerald sun-blinds, trailed up with a fine + "Glory" rose, + And a slavey as pooty as pie, if it weren't for the smuts on her nose. + + Oh, I'm up to the knocker, I tell yer; fresh 'errins for breakfast, + old pal, + Bottled beer by the bucket, prime 'bacca, and oh, such a scrumptious + young gal! + Picked 'er up on the pier, mate, permiskus, last Wensday as ever was. + Whew! + She would take the shine out of some screamers, I tell yer, my pippin, + would Loo. + + Dropped 'er 'at the feet of yours, truly, and 'ARRY, of course, was + all there. + Her 'airpins went flyin! Thinks I, that's a jolly fine sample of 'air; + As black as my boots, and as shiny, and oh! sech a 'eavenly smell. + "Hillo! Miss," sez I, "while you're 'andy, there's no need for + Mister RIMMEL." + + That nicked 'er, my nibs. It's the patter as does it, of course _with_ + good looks; + Gals do like a chap as can gab, as you'll find by them Libery books. + Take WEEDEE, my boy, or Miss BROUGHTON; you'll see if a feller would + tackle + A feminine fair up to dick, he 'as got to be dabs at the cackle. + + And that's where _I_ score, my dear CHARLIE. Lor bless yer, in + 'arf an 'our more, + Me and Loo was as cosy as cousins, tucked up in a nook on the shore. + Gives yer 'oliday outing a flaviour, the feminine element do, + Although, _ontry noo_, dear old pal, it's a tidy stiff drain on + yer "screw." + + 'Owsomever, flare up and blow "exes" is always my motter, yer see; + And I never minds blueing the pieces purwided I gets a good spree; + Wich is jest wot I'm 'aving at present. You'll say, at this pint, + I expect, + "'ARRY'S doing the Toff as per usual." To which, mate, I answers, + "_Ker_-rect!" + + Socierty's right, my dear CHARLIE,--Socierty always _is_ right,-- + GLADSTONE'S gab about "masses and classes" is all tommy rot and + sour spite. + There is only one class worth consid'rin', and that is the reglar + _fust_-class; + And the chap as don't try to get into it--well, he is simply a ass. + + Socierty sez, "When the Season is hover, slide off to the Sea! + It's _the_ place for a fair autumn barney." And shall I dispute it? + Not me. + 'ARRY knows his tip better than that, Sir. Your juggins may 'ave + 'is own whim + About bicycling, boating, or wot not; _I_ mean bein' well in the swim. + + Lor, it warms a cove's heart dontcherknow, puts his sperrits right slap + on the rise, + Wen the Niggers are dancing a break-down or singing _Two Lovely + Black Eyes_. + To see lardy Toffs and swell ladies, and smart little gals with + no fuss, + 'Anging round on the listen and snigger as though they wos each + one of _hus_. + + They likes it, my lad, yus they likes it, the Music Hall patter and + slang. + Yet some jugginses kick at _my_ lingo as _vulgar_! Oh, let 'em go 'ang. + Take a run, Mister Mealymouthed Critic, go home and eat coke, poor + old man. + All Toffs as _is_ Toffs share my tastes; we are built on the very + same plan. + + Wots the hodds if yer rides in a kerredge, or drives in a double-'orse + drag, + With a 'orn and a loud concerteena and lots o' prime prog in the bag? + It is only a question of ochre, the principle's ditto all round. + It is larks by the Sea we all seek, and they suits us all down to + the ground. + + But now, I am off to the Pier, CHARLIE. Boat's coming in from Boolong, + And I wouldn't miss that not for nothink. The wind blows a little bit + strong, + And there's bound to be lots on 'em quisby, some regular goners, dessay; + And it _is_ sech a lark to chi-ike them, the best bit o' fun of the day. + + Old jokers in sealskin caps, CHARLIE, drawn over their poor blue old + ears, + Pooty gals with complexions like paste-pots, old mivvies gone green + with the queers; + Little toffs with their billycocks raked, jest to swagger it off like, + yer know, + But with hoptics like badly-biled whelks. Oh, I tell yer it's all a + prime show. + + _Larf_, CHARLIE? It bangs ARTHUR ROBERTS, and makes a chap bloomin' + nigh bust. + I must take a 'am sanwich to munch. Wen a cove ketches sight on it fust, + And I sings out, "Hi! who'll 'ave a fat 'un?" to see that bloke shudder + and shrink, + And go gooseberry green in the gills, is _too_ lovely, mate. Wot do + _you_ think? + + And all this, with the larks on the sands, niggers, spotting the + bathers,--that's spiff!-- + Sails round, going bobbing for whiting, and singing at night on + the cliff, + Not to mention rides out, as per posters, and quiet flirtations with Loo, + I was quietly asked to chuck up 'long o' Mother's rheumatics! Yah boo! + + 'ARRY'S not sech a mug, I essure you. Sweet Home is dashed fiddlededee. + _I_'m not nuts on yer dabby domestic, it spiles a smart chap for a spree. + Ony sorry my time's nearly hup; but, as fur as the ochre will carry, + Do the briny with swells _like_ a swell, is the tip of + Yours scrumptiously, 'ARRY. + + * * * * * + +[Illustration: "OVERCAST." + +THEY WERE OUT FOR A DAY IN THE COUNTRY--WERE LATE AT THE STATION--HE +LEFT IT TO HER TO TAKE THE TICKETS--A HORRID CROWD--FRIGHTFULLY HOT--AND +SHE WAS HUSTLED AND FLUSTERED CONSIDERABLY WHEN SHE REACHED THE +CARRIAGE. + +_He (cool and comfortable)._ "HOW CHARMING THE YELLOW GORSE----" + +_She (in a withering tone)._ "YOU DIDN'T 'XPECT TO SEE IT BLUE, I +S'PPOSE!" [_Tacet!_] + + * * * * * + +SALUBRITIES ABROAD. + +_Thirteenth day of Cure at Royat. Hotel Continental._--The view from my +window is charming, whether on a bright morning or a moonlight night. +But I am not contented with it. There is within me an "OLIVER, asking +for more." Had I the faith which moves mountains, I would order that +hill opposite to be removed, so as to give me a more extensive, and a +grander view. + + * * * + +_The Beggars at Royat._--A nuisance and a disgrace to the place. Why are +these wretched creatures allowed to trade on their fearful afflictions? +Are there no free hospitals, no charitable institutions, where they can +be taken care of? Of course there are. Is there no power to compel them +to go in? Is there no "_traitement_" for them? + + * * * + +As for the little beggar boys and girls who are brought up to the trade +and who waylay us all day, cannot they be put to some useful work and be +forced into school? These able-bodied paupers should be employed in +mending the footpaths leading up to Gravenoire and the environs, which +are in a very bad condition. + + * * * + +I do not object, indeed by this time I take rather kindly to the _vin du +pays_, but I detest what Mr. "DUMB-CRAMBO" would call-- + +[Illustration: The Whine of the Country.] + + * * * + +_A propos_ of walks in a wretched condition, why don't their Worships, +the Maires of Royat and Chamaliere, lay their heads together and mend +the footpaths? In making the above suggestion, I do not contemplate +wood-pavement. No: but I do think that these beggars might be utilised. + + * * * + +_Pensees d'un Baigneur._--A bather has plenty of time to emulate the +celebrated parrot. What can he do--the bather not the parrot--in his +bath, except think? He can talk, hum, or sing. He can recite: and +exercise his voice and memory. But this would attract attention, and I +fancy the talking, singing, or reciting bather would very soon be +requested to keep quiet. Therefore he must think. He may not sleep: it +is not permitted by the faculty. No: thinking is the thing. The time in +a bath,--thirty-five minutes of it--passes as a dream, and the thoughts +are as difficult to catch and fix as butterflies. Here are a few:-- + +It is absolutely necessary to please oneself even in things apparently +indifferent. Out of politeness, I yielded yesterday to an invitation to +take a drive of two hours. I was ill for nearly a couple of days +afterwards.... So was the kind person who took me. I believe she meant +it well, and intended it as an act of politeness. (N. B. This was +written within the first seven days of the "_traitement_". This sort of +thing must come out of you. The waters bring out selfishness and +ingratitude.) + + * * * + +Morning after morning I find myself staring at the notice on the wall at +the foot of my bath. From that I gather that I am a "titulaire." My +bath-cell is No. 17. So as Titulaire I am Number Seventeen,--like a +convict. My Gaoler, the bathman, does not know me perhaps by any other +name than "Monsieur &c., Dix-Sept." Ah, well, I never thought I should +be seventeen again. But I am--at Royat. How it must be re-juvenising me! + + * * * + +I have been looking over a list of excursions to various "Salubrities +Abroad." Among them I find this:--"_De Lyon en Savoie et en Dauphine par +Saint-Andre-le-Gaz, et retour_". + +"St. Andrew-the-Gas" sounds a novel name in a calendar. He was evidently +a Saint much in advance of his time. An excellent man of course +"according to his lights." + + * * * + +I saw a subject here for Mr. MARKS, R.A. A bearded Franciscan Monk in +his brown habit, with cord and rosary at his waist, sending a telegram +at the telegraph office. Imagine the surroundings. Mr. MARKS might call +it an Anachronism. + + * * * + +When abroad, I make notes of the names of any new dishes. The following +one was new to me as a name, not as a dish, which was simple enough, +"_Culottes de boeuf a la fermiere_". What next? "_Calecons de veau a +la baigneuse?_" "_Gilets de mouton a la bergere?_" "_Culottes de veau a +la Brian O'Lynn?_" "_Chapeau de volaille a la coq?_" + + * * * + +_Music._--This morning, the fifteenth of my sojourn here, the band is +playing something new. This is refreshing, as I am becoming a little +tired of the overtures to _Zampa_, _Guillaume Tell_, _Italiano in +Algeria_, selections from the _Huguenots_ (highly popular as a good +finish to any concert) and the dance music, waltzes and mazurkas, which +have been popular for the last two years. + + * * * + +The clocks of Royat are still in an undecided state. The uninitiated +person who takes his time--(_Note, en passant for all baigneurs +here_--Never be in a hurry, and always "take your time," no matter from +where you take it)--from the Hotel, and starts at 7.30 in order to reach +his bath by 8,--a walk of five minutes,--will find, on arriving at the +_Etablissement_, that it is just 8.5, so that he has taken a quarter of +an hour to do the distance. If he starts from the _Etablissement_ at +8.30, to meet a friend at the station, on arriving there he will +discover that it is 8.15 by the Railway Clock, so that he is at the end +of his journey a quarter of an hour before he set out, having done the +distance in considerably less than no time,--a record worth preserving. +The Post Office Authorities, in despair, have put up a notice informing +everybody that their clock has no connection with that of the +_Etablissement_, which may just do what it likes and be wound to it, and +ignoring all church-clock authority and all municipal authority too, +they (the Post Office Authorities aforesaid) announce that they intend +to take their time from the Railway station, but even then will give +themselves a margin of five minutes one way or the other, so that the +public wishing to send letters must ascertain what the post times +_ought_ to be, and then give themselves another margin of at least ten +minutes on the safe side. The calculation is not very complicated when +you are accustomed to it, and its uncertainty lends a gentle stimulus to +the ordinary routine of the uneventful life at Royat. + + * * * + +For "Excursions from Royat by Rail or Road," see my Guide-Book, +forthcoming. + + * * * + +This advice, "_See my Guide_," or "_See my History_," is perpetually +recurring as a friendly hint--it really being a most artful way of +introducing an advertisement to your notice--in that invaluable +publication, the _Guides Diamant, P. Joanne_, series, HACHETTE & CIE., +without which no traveller's pocket or bag is completely furnished. Time +for _siesta_. + + * * * * * + +FIRST IN THE FIELD. + +_A Song of the Cricket Championship._ + +[Illustration: Em met. (Yorks.)] + + THE GRACES are hers, but the Parcae have tost her + Of late, so the Championship won't go to Gloucester; + Despite brave Lord HARRIS, and efforts well-meant, + That honour won't fall to the bold Men of Kent. + 'Twould have charmed not a few of the "better for wus" sex, + Had luck smiled (not she!) on their sweethearts of Sussex; + And, though it is famed as the pluck and hard-work shire, + The top of the tree is not reached yet by Yorkshire. + Dame Fortune, that Sphinx of the riddle-cum-diddle sex, + Crowns not with success the crack Batsmen of Middlesex. + Spite of SHREWSBURY, GUNN, and such cricketing pots, + Her Song for this season is "_No, not for Notts!_" + And, although "runner-up" (if like greyhounds one rank a shire) + She's _just_ missed first place, has stout HORNBY-led Lancashire. + Thanks--in chief--to young LOHMANN, whom fate cannot flurry, + The Championship once more comes South. Bravo, Surrey! + +[Illustration: Pilling. (Lancs.)] + + * * * * * + +OMINOUS.--Lord R. CHURCHILL is to address a meeting of Unionists at +Sunderland. Hardly strikes one as quite a suitable spot for that +purpose, _Sunderland_ being rather suggestive of the Separatist policy +that Lord RANDOLPH and his friends are so strongly opposed to. The Home +Rulers would have chosen Cumberland as more appropriate. + + * * * * * + +[Illustration: Pleasure Parties.] + + * * * * * + +DRURY LANE WITH PLEASURE. + +MY DEAR MR. PUNCH, + +IT was only what might have been expected that a large audience should +assemble in the National Theatre to see the new piece by Messrs. PAUL +MERRITT and AUGUSTUS HARRIS. The very title was inviting, and when to +that title were added scenes in Oxford, Monte Carlo, Nice and +Gloucestershire, who could refuse the invitation? Certainly not I. So I +accepted, with pleasure, and was present at the initial performance. I +refreshed my recollection of college life at Oxford where men certainly +were not quite as serious as _Mr. Jack Lovell_, in the long since of the +"fifties." I could not help regretting that the Oxford of thirty years +ago had not the unconventional Mr. NICHOLLS amongst the Undergraduates. +Had he been there at the period to which I refer, I undoubtedly should +have sought the honour of his acquaintance, but on the condition that he +did _not_ introduce me to the aforesaid _Jack Lovell_, who on +matriculating at Drury Lane was about as lively as a mute at a funeral. +I was not at all surprised to find him rather out of sorts. Frankly, +_Mr. Jack Lovell_ in _Pleasure_ is not a nice young man. He reads for +the Church and gets plucked, as indeed he should, as he seems to have +employed the time that he ought to have occupied in hard reading, in +behaving in the most disgraceful manner to _Miss Jessie Newland_, +otherwise the ever charming Miss ALMA MURRAY. Very properly refused a +family living, he succeeds to a peerage, and immediately publishes the +story of his betrothed and refuses to marry her. + +[Illustration: Bringing Down the House.] + +Personally, I must admit that I received with joy the news that he was +drinking himself to death, and only felt the deepest regret when I +learned that he had not perished in an admirably contrived Earthquake. + +[Illustration: Sweets to the Sweet.] + +But, in spite of _Mr. Jack Lovell_, Oxford, at Drury Lane, contained a +number of interesting persons. The _Doddipotts_, father and son, with +their American relative (Miss BROUGH), were most amusing, and I was +quite satisfied to accompany them to Nice and Monte Carlo, to see the +Battle of Flowers, the Carnival Ball, and last, but not least, the +Earthquake. This latter effect, in more senses than one, "brought down +the house." In _Pleasure_ the stage-management is excellent throughout, +and, of the joint authorship of the piece, I think I may safely say that +its chief merit lies in the name of HARRIS. Not a mythical "HARRIS," +like unto the friend of _Mrs. Gamp_, but some one far more substantial, +the great AUGUSTUS DRURIOLANUS himself. Whether one is gazing upon the +Sheldonian Theatre (the background to an Oxford Mixture of no common +kind), or the Barges, or the Promenade des Anglais, or the Carnival +Ball, the presence of an excellent master of effect is seen in every +group, in every detail. + +[Illustration: An Oxford Mixture.] + +_Pleasure_ is described as a Comedy-Drama, and the plot is not, perhaps, +as strong as some of its predecessors. As "strength" at a theatre +invariably spells "murder" or "sudden death," I am not at all sure that +this absence of the ultra-melodramatic is not to be welcomed, in spite +of the taste for the horrible which is supposed to be the characteristic +of those who patronise the pit and gallery. But what the People (with a +capital initial letter) lose in the ghastly, they certainly gain in the +beautiful. If the scenery at Drury Lane of the Riviera does not cause +"Personally conducted tours" to be more numerously attended next year +than ever, I shall be more than surprised--I shall be disappointed. Even +the Earthquake should not be a deterrent, for as far as I could learn +from "the incident" at Drury Lane, no one was a penny the worse for the +shaking. Even the unworthy _Lovell_ escaped--I fancy up the chimney. If +this were so, it would only be in keeping with his character. + +In the first Drury Lane success, _The World_ (by the same authors as +_Pleasure_), there was a wonderful clergyman, played by the late Mr. +RYDER, whose cynicism was equal to his audacity. This strange +ecclesiastic I remember, having sown an unusually large crop of wild +oats in his youth, on his return from Evening Service in his middle age, +imperiously refused to allow a lady to remain in his parish because she +had once been deeply attached to him, and had loved him "not wisely, but +too well." I shall never forget the dignified earnestness of the late +Mr. RYDER as he explained to this lady his position as a married man, +and sternly ordered her to move on. Had _Mr. Jack Lovell_ been ordained, +I fancy he would have made an excellent curate to this reverend +gentleman, and that between them they would have formed what is +satirically termed a "pretty pair." + +It is possible that the original intention of the authors of _Pleasure_ +may have been to have conferred on the hero of their piece a Deanery, or +even an Archbishopric, and that the recollection of this prior clerical +creation may have influenced them to alter their contemplated Church +patronage into a temporal peerage linked with twenty thousand a-year. Be +this as it may, _Jack_ and his prototype will rest in my memory as +companion pictures, of what a clergyman might, could, would (but should +not) be. The scenery and the admirable stage-management make _Mr. +Lovell_ and his doings bearable. They pull him through. For the rest, +_Pleasure_ is an amusing play, well mounted, and capitally acted, and +should keep the boards until December brings to Drury Lane and a +delighted world the Christmas Pantomime. On the first night all went +well up to the end of the Fifth Act; but the last, after the excitement +of the Riviera scenes, came as rather an anti-climax.--I beg to sign +myself, in compliment to and emulation of the Earthquake, ONE WHO HAD +GONE TO PIECES. + + * * * * * + +A Hint to the Howlers. + + BETWIXT Paddies who kick up wild hullabaloo, + And rude Radical raffs who will play the Yahoo, + There apparently is not a Tanner to choose; + Though the Irishmen boast of the better excuse! + Rads the Message of Peace will not hasten, I trow, + By taking a hand in this Donnybrook row. + To "trid on their coat-tails" is policy mad, + But to help them to swing the shillelagh's as bad. + To ape angry Pats in their weakness for fights, + Is the very worst way to get Ireland her "rights." + + * * * * * + +AN ADDRESS TO PARLIAMENT.--Shut up! + + * * * * * + +[Illustration: SEA-SIDE WEATHER STUDIES. SET FAIR. WHITBY.] + + * * * * * + +"ON HIS OWN HOOK!" + +A POLITICAL "ANGLER'S SONG." + +(_Imitated, at a respectful distance, from Piscator's Song in "The +Compleat Angler._") + +_Piscator pipeth_:-- + + Now private pique breeds party talk, + Some G. would bless, and some would baulk; + Some seem to find it pretty sport, + Changeful constituencies to court. + To share such games I do not wish, + No, for awhile, I'd rather--fish. + + Just now I might to danger ride, + There's doubt about the winning side, + One's little game may often prove + Advanced by a _retiring_ move. + For faction's fetter, party's snare, + Whilst angling here I need not care. + + Such recreation is there none, + As playing one's own game alone. + Aught else is risky, more or less, + And well may land one in a mess, + My hand alone my work can do, + Here I can fish, and study too. + + I care not much to fish the seas, + Me party-angling more doth please; + My present task I contemplate + With patience, not with heart elate. + But in safe waters I would keep, + And floods at home run wild and deep. + + I'm not _quite_ cocksure on which side + At present runs "the flowing tide;" + I'd not be stranded with the ebb-- + I've shunned the Grand Old Spider's web; + I am not like a simple fly; + I take my hook, and mind my eye. + + I'll not with Caucus gudgeons wait, + Prepared to gorge whatever bait. + How poor a thing, wire-pullers find, + Will captivate the Caucus mind! + Yet latterly, to my surprise, + Unto _my_ bait it fails to rise. + + But here, though while I fish I fast + From the political repast, + Yet, as my new-found friends invite, + I'll take the swim, I'll watch the bite. + Should chance the Coalition dish, + _There_'d be a pretty kettle o' fish! + + So I'm content this post to take, + Alone, but calm and wide awake. + Anglers "lie low" just now and then, + Much more so we fishers of men. + Here I can "bob," smoke, make a name, + And from afar watch the whole game. + + I fancy that, were RANDOLPH here, + He'd smile, and share my bottled beer. + Both fishers we; by brain not book, + Take our own line, on our own hook. + I'll watch which way the home wind blows, + And when 'tis settled--well, who knows? + + * * * * * + +AT HOME WITH ATOMS. + +DEAR MR. PUNCH,--After listening to Sir HENRY ROSCOE'S Address at the +Free Trade Hall last evening, my brain feels very much like a "molecule +on the eve of being broken into atoms," by the grandeur of the subject +on which he discoursed, and as he so kindly told us this catastrophe +"may be brought about not only by heat vibrations, but likewise by an +electrical discharge at a comparatively low temperature," the present +state of the weather rather adds to the anxiety I feel about the seat of +my mental organisation. Still "there is a fundamental difference," he +tells us, "between the question of separating the atoms in the molecule, +and that of splitting up the atom itself," so that there seems to be a +remote chance in any case of my preserving an atom or two of sound sense +and intelligence in the midst of impending chaos, the more so, as "even +the highest of terrestrial temperatures, that of the electric spark, has +failed to shake any atom in two." + +In the course of his address Sir H. ROSCOE also said, "There is no such +thing in nature as great or small." I was always considered the smallest +in my family, and it seems difficult, though at the same time +encouraging, to believe I am equal in physical quantities of height and +weight to the other members. What such nice men say must be true--at any +rate until something _truer_ is found out. I shall therefore cherish the +idea I have hitherto been under a delusion. Mind may have some +inscrutable quality wherewith to balance Matter. I remember my tallest +sister was the one who thought least. Mind and Matter are now so much +mixed, that they may be interchangeable molecules; who knows? Sir H. +ROSCOE observed also that "heat is evolved by the clashing of the +atoms." I felt how true that was when we twelve molecules quarrelled as +children. + +I think, _Mr. Punch_, for a woman, I have gathered a great deal of +information in a few hours. + +Yours truthfully, +THE BETTER HALF OF SOMEBODY. + + * * * * * + +THE PECCANT MEMBER. + +_A Wail by a Weary One._ + + PARLIAMENT sitting still--and in September! + It's all along of "the unruly member"-- + That is, the tongue. But, to adapt it duly + To modern days, it should be called _Home_-Ruly! + + * * * * * + +"NOT IN THE HUNTS."--Mr. SANDERS. + +[Illustration: "ON HIS OWN HOOK!" + +JUDICIOUS JOE. "A BIT ROUGH--BUT, PLEASANTER THAN _HOME WATERS_--JUST +NOW!"] + + * * * * * + +[Illustration: STREET PUZZLE. TO FIND LAW AND ORDER. + +STRAND, 10.45 P.M.] + + * * * * * + +CIRCUS PERFORMANCES. + +SIR,--I see that there is a senseless outcry against the proposed plan +of the Board of Works to build on a portion of the open space now +available at Piccadilly Circus, and I write to protest against the +pestilent heresy that prompts it. What, Sir, I ask, has the Board to do +with "beauty"? As a public body, responsible to the ratepayers, they +have only one thing to consider, and that is, "utility." Why, then, +should they not seize upon every vacant inch of ground at their +disposal, and convert it into a Central Pig Market? Such a thing could +not be better installed than at the end of Regent Street, and here is +the very site for it. Expecting to see some active steps taken to set +this on foot, I am, Sir, your obedient Servant, NOTHING IF NOT +PRACTICAL. + +SIR,--Your Correspondent, "ONE WITH AN EYE TO THE SUBLIME," is right in +attacking the gross Vandalism of the Board, but, in his proposed scheme +for statues and fountains, he falls miserably short of what is really +wanted to make Piccadilly Circus what it should be; namely, the grandest +open space in Europe. The ground should be cleared from St. James's +Church to Leicester Square, East and West, and opened up southwards the +whole width to the Duke of York's Column. Upon the space so secured, a +white marble pavement, broken only by colossal water-works, groups of +classic statuary, splendid monuments, and groves of orange-trees, should +be laid, and here, to the plash of silvery cascades, utterly +outrivalling the greatest display of which Versailles is capable, and, +to the music of half-a-dozen separate military bands, the jaded Londoner +should disport himself from morn to dewy eve. You ask as to the cost. +Well, a rate of fifteen shillings in the pound for a hundred and fifty +years would soon settle that, and I am sure there is not a taxpayer in +the parishes immediately concerned who would not willingly jump at this +trifling charge to see the scheme realised. At least, this is the view +at the present moment taken of the matter by Yours, obediently, AN +ENTHUSIASTIC OUTSIDER. + + +SIR,--They are talking of pulling down St. Mary-le-Strand and wish to +cut off the steps of St. Martin's. Why not _move them both_ and set them +up back to back on the disputed ground? One could face Piccadilly and +the other look up Coventry Street. The idea is a happy one and has the +merit of bringing together in juxtaposition the works of our two great +_Renaissance_ architects GIBBS and WREN. I offer it to your artistic +readers for what it is worth and beg to subscribe myself, Yours, +tentatively, A LOCAL MECAENAS. + + +Sir,--There was some time since some sensible talk of erecting a +gigantic iron tower in the neighbourhood of the St. Martin's Baths and +Wash Houses. Surely no finer site could be found for such an erection +than that provided by Piccadilly Circus. Here, with a sufficiently ample +base, such for instance as could be furnished by the entire available +space in question, a thing of the kind might rise to, say, the height of +1,000 feet and have one, two or even three theatres at the top. Several +restaurants could be accommodated on the upper floors, and the lower 500 +feet might be partly relegated to a sausage manufactory and partly let +out in chambers. The whole would afford a pleasing and striking _coup +d'oeil_ to any one approaching it either from Waterloo Place, +Piccadilly or Shaftesbury Avenue, and prove, I think, a happy compromise +and solution of the somewhat vexed question of the utilisation of the +disputed space. At least, so the matter strikes your suggestive +Correspondent, A HOPEFUL AEDILE. + + * * * * * + +LEARNING THE LANGUAGE. + +_A Page from his Bulgarian Ollendorff._ + +HAVE you perceived the Triumphal Arch at the entry of the City? + +No, I have not perceived the Triumphal Arch at the entry of the City, +but I have noticed the cold shoulder of the Generals. + +This must be the congratulatory Round Robin of the Officers. + +Yes, it is the congratulatory Round Robin of the Officers, but here also +is the placard proclaiming me a Usurper. + +Has the Snub arrived from the Porte? + +Yes, the Snub has arrived from the Porte, and with it the Ultimatum from +the CZAR. + +In any emergency would you depend upon the omnibus horse provided for +you by the War Department? + +No, in any emergency I would not depend upon the omnibus horse provided +for me by the War Department, but on the list of trains proceeding to +the frontier, as furnished in the local _Bradshaw_. + + * * * * * + +[Illustration: NAUGHTICAL? + +_Yachting Friend (playfully)._ "HAVE YOU ANY EXPERIENCE OF SQUALLS, +BROWN?" + +_Brown._ "SQUALLS!" (_Seriously._) "MY DEAR SIR, I'VE BROUGHT UP TEN IN +FAMILY!"] + + * * * * * + +FOR AN IRISH TRIP. + +(_Some Preparatory Memoranda._) + +1. To get up the early Celtic history, and establish my undoubted right +to call myself an Irishman, by tracing my pedigree directly back to +FERGUS THE FIRST. + +2. Lend colourable certainty to this by hiring a low-comedy Donnybrook +Fair suit from NATHAN'S, and wearing it on all public occasions. + +3. Make arrangements to take a dozen lessons in jig-dancing and +shillelagh-flourishing from some recognised Music-Hall celebrity engaged +in this special line of business. + +4. Get the words of the _We'll have the Tail off the Cow, Pat_, and +other patriotic songs, by heart, and have an encore verse ready in case +of being called upon to give it in any popular emergency. + +5. Familiarise myself with the use of such expressions as "Whist! +Whist!" "Arrah! are ye shure now," "divil a bit!" and other Irish +colloquialisms, and accustom myself to interspersing my orations with +shrill whoops to give emphasis to a sentence or point to a period as +occasion may require or suggest. + +6. Conceive a defence of boycotting and bring it oratorically, in an +airy and genial way, within a measurable distance of legality, and back +it up if possible with some biblical and Homeric analogies. + +7. Study the Plan of Campaign practically, by hurling boiling pitch, +meal, lime and brickbats through a besieged cabin-window into the faces +of imaginary constabulary without. + +8. Habituate myself to mild indulgence in "potheen," occasional drinking +of confusion to the "Sassenach," and to taking care not to lose sight of +my return ticket. + + * * * * * + +CASE-O'-MY-BANKER. + +(_The Story of Another Child._) + + THE Boy stood in the sweltering street, + Whence all but he had fled; + The fast-departing dog-days' heat, + Flamed full upon his head. + + He was not beautiful nor bright, + Nor born to rule the storm; + A most unlucky urban wight; + A small, yet grimy, form. + + His parents could not grant the boon + --A fortnight's Country air; + They would have spared him precious soon, + But had no cash to spare! + + He called aloud: "Kind Public, say, + If me you have forgot!" + But far from Town the Public play + Unconscious of his lot. + + "Speak, millionnaires," again he cried, + "If I may not levant!" + And but the falling leaves replied, + And daylight growing scant. + + Upon his brow he felt the breath + Of summer slowly fail, + And looked and prayed for kindly aid, + As seaman for a sail. + + Meanwhile the Children's Country Fund, + Formed near the roaring Strand, + (At Buck'n'ham Street, the Number Ten,) + Had no more cash in hand! + + He murmured faintly once again, + "Kind Public, must I stay?" + While to the seaside cab and train + Bore happier lads away. + + * * * + + Ah, Public! You this Summer's heat + Have felt at Pleasure's marts; + Think how you'd like it in the street, + Before it quite departs! + + * * * * * + +A Real Sporting Event. + +ARROW-THROWING is said to be the latest new sport--in Yorkshire. +Newer even than Frog-spearing in France! What next? Perhaps "Javelin-men" +will soon mean something modern, and not perfunctory. Then +"Hatchet-throwing"--in a sense having no relation to travellers' +taradiddles--may become the vogue; and Mr. HANBURY, who is so much +concerned about the Salary of the Master of the Hawks, may move in the +House to have it transferred to a new and actual public functionary--the +Master of the Tomahawks. + + * * * * * + +GEOLOGISTS talk learnedly about the immense antiquity of what they call +"the Coal measures." The modern coal-measures, needed now, are measures +for arming our Coaling Stations. + + * * * * * + +ESSENCE OF PARLIAMENT. + +_From the Notes of a Colleague of the Member for Barkshire._ + +_House of Commons, Monday, August 29._--I was afraid that TOBY would +give himself a holiday. For some time since the Whips have kept an +uneasy eye upon the most independent, the most talented, the most +industrious of their following. And now he has gone! "He will return--I +know he will," before the end of the Session; but for the moment he is +away--the deadly dulness that prevailed at Westminster a fortnight since +was too much for him; and so I follow him in the House--be it well +understood, at a respectful distance. His absence will not be pleasing +to any one--even the sprightly AKERS DOUGLAS, forgetting for the moment +the destination of votes, will regret him. But, as he good-naturedly +observes, under the impression that he is adapting SHAKSPEARE to the +exigencies of the situation, "Votes may come and votes may go, but the +Session seemingly goes on for ever!" + +[Illustration: A. Ak-rs D--gl-s.] + +To return to August 29. The Patriots have determined it shall be a grand +week for the "Ould Counthry." Many previous weeks have been equally +grand weeks, or as they would put it "months." When the SPEAKER took his +seat, scarcely a quorum present. Ministerialists "in reserve," (like +policemen when some one writes to tell Sir C. WARREN he is going to +demonstrate in Trafalgar Square) in various parts of the House. +Gladstonian Whips well _en evidence_ to act as guides to sole +representatives of the Non-Dissentient Liberals, WOODALL and CHILDERS. + +Unprejudiced North Briton DOUGLAS CRAWFORD has a question for young +NORTHCOTE about pig-iron and coal. Seemingly Scotch firms have been +overlooked. Surveyor-General of Ordnance very gravely answers question, +goes home and tenders his resignation, "in consequence of recommendation +of Committee reporting upon War Office organising and suggesting +changes." NORTHCOTE had enough of it. Couldn't even say something funny +about "burning questions _re_ coal generally ending in smoke." + +After JOICEY had wanted to know why great guns should be let off at +Tynemouth Castle, and STANHOPE had promised that for the future they +should be fired (if possible) in a whisper ("Savours of a bang," put in +CHILDERS, _sotto voce_), the Irish gentlemen got to their favourite +sport, KING-HARMAN baiting. They had one or two good sets-to, making it +particularly unpleasant for the Under Secretary about the trial of +O'BRIEN, Resident Magistrates, and Horse-breeding. But this "illigant +divarsion" was only a sort of _hors d'oeuvres_ to the _piece de +resistance_, "Supply--Irish Votes," which was as strong and savoury as +the National Stew itself. + +DILLON began the ball by moving a reduction of the Constabulary Votes, +saying that the chief duties of the officers were, driving out with the +Country Gentlemen, flirting with all the Young Girls, and shooting with +the Landlords. + +[Illustration: H. N-rthc-te.] + +"Ah, so it is," said JOSEPH GILLIS, with a flush of scarlet indignation +mounting his noble brow, "It's not the driving and shooting I object +to--it's the flirting!" + +JOSEPH GILLIS is very excitable when the fair sex is mentioned, and no +doubt meant what he said. + +TIM HEALY followed on, regretting that GRANDOLPH was not there, no doubt +for the same reason that the Irish gentleman with a shillelagh was sorry +to see no bald pates neat and handy. He said that the Boycotted were the +happiest inmates of the distressful country, possibly feeling that they +had plenty of time for drinking and fighting. + +Then the various votes were taken and "talked at," in the customary way +until the hands of the clock marked Three in the morning. Whenever a +chance showed itself of a war-whoop--whiz--and down came the club upon +somebody--anybody. A couple of hours after midnight the Irishmen became +more conciliatory, soothed by the thought that on the following evening +they would have KING-HARMAN at their mercy. + +"He will take a deal of bating," said TIM, "but whist, you will see how +I shall get at him. He's been to Cremorne----" + +"Fie, for shame!" cried JOSEPH GILLIS, "don't talk of such sinful +places!" + +[Illustration: Sm-ll and B-gg-r.] + +_Tuesday._--Lords had a real good afternoon's work. The LORD CHANCELLOR +(with his usual grace--rather suggestive of the _pavan_ in the Gray's +Inn Maske) took his seat at 4.30. Squabble about the Woman's Suffrage +Bill, which, after being deferred for six months, had come up +again--scowling. Lord DENMAN proposed "previous question," but LORD +CHANCELLOR (great tactician, but not great lawyer) suggested the matter +should stand over until the next sitting. Reproach of "got no work to +do" consequently removed from the Upper House. + +Lords adjourned at Five o'Clock for a week, to recover from their +exertions. + +"Whist, bhoys, be aisy now," said TIM, in the Commons, when KING-HARMAN +was seen going to his dinner. Then came the deluge. + +"It is grand, Sorr," said the only Home-Ruler who does not use an +accent; "it is just illigant, Sorr; and it's myself is proud of this +day." + +TIM walked into the Under Secretary with "joy." He "scathed" him, and +said all manner of things about him. He used, amongst other weapons his +legal knowledge (TIM is a great authority upon all legal questions) to +describe him as a "returned convict." + +"Look at that now!" observed JOSEPH GILLIS. "It's disgraceful that we +should be ruled by a man who has assaulted the perlice!" + +In the midst of the excitement KING-HARMAN suddenly returned from his +dinner. No doubt he had sacrificed, in his haste to defend himself, or +rather, what the only Home-Ruler who does not use an accent calls his +"Ka-rack-tare," from the aspersions of the "inimy," three courses, a +dessert, to say nothing of a cup of coffee and a _chasse_. He drew a +picture of being a lad of two-and-twenty when he assaulted the police at +Cremorne. Would not Hon. Members of Home-Rule persuasion have done the +same at that age? Indignant denial of the entire Home-Rule Party, who +are horrified this suggestion! "Would _they_ tread on the tail of +anybody's coat? And at two-and-twenty? Look at that, now! Bedad! they +would just like to get at the Under Secretary's head with a shillelagh +for making such a suggestion." + +And so the war was carried on, TIM'S heart being at last softened by +KING-HARMAN declaring that he had saved him from ill-treatment at +Dungannon at the hands of some gentlemen who wanted to show him "how to +cheer for the QUEEN" with a stick. "I got hold of the men by the neck +and hurled them back," cried KING-HARMAN, unsuccessfully controlling his +emotion, "and now he--he--he says I got into a ro--ow--ow at Cremorne." + +[Illustration: M-tth-ws.] + +"Craymorne, not Cremorne," shouted the Home-Rulers who are proud of +accuracy. + +And while all this excitement reigned around, the HOME SECRETARY sat +smiling, glad for once and away to be out of his customary hot corner. +However, all passed off peacefully and no bones were broken. + +_Thursday._--House very thin during Question Time, and attendance of +Ministerialists during the entire sitting very scanty, considering the +programme. Then there was an incident. Incident came about this way. +DILLON had been seen during hour allowed for Minister-baiting reading +the huge print of an enormous green placard. First impression he had +grown short-sighted, and required larger type; second, that he meant +mischief. Second impression right one. So to raise the question of the +proclamation of the Ennis County Clare Meeting he asked permission to +move adjournment of debate. SPEAKER put it, were there requisite number +of Members present ready to sanction a regular first-class, A 1, +whack-where-you-will, go-as-you-please, Irish row? SPEAKER used more +Parliamentary language than this, but that was about his meaning. Sixty +Members sprang to their feet to testify their desire not to quarrel, but +to uphold constitutional privileges in the most peaceable manner in the +world. And then the row began. + +DILLON had first shot. Meeting was to be of the most peaceful character. +All that the boys wanted to do was to remind one another of their +inalienable right to denounce the wanton and overbearing conduct of the +Government. They would say this in the most illigant manner imaginable, +without giving offence to anybody. He was going to speak to the boys +himself, and so was Mr. WILLIAM O'BRIEN, and so was Mr. PHILIP STANHOPE. +Sure, now, what harm could there be, especially as the meeting was not +to be held in a part of the country that wanted pacifying? And because +some rack-renting landlords, wild with fury, and shaking in their shoes +with apprehension, asked for it to be proclaimed, it was to be! Could +this be tolerated? No! He would be off that very evening to brave the +bayonet, the buckshot, the battle and the breeze! + +BALFOUR mildly remonstrating. Ennis, County Clare, best possible place +in the world; but meeting might cause peasantry to lose the Arcadian +innocence for which they are at present distinguished. Murmurs from +Home-Rulers, and, later on, "outrage" by PHIL STANHOPE, who actually had +the audacity to speak of Chief Secretary as a "whimsical and +lackadaisical gentleman." The SPEAKER sprang to his feet, and sharply +rebuked the outrager. Only fancy! Calling ARTHUR BALFOUR'S manner +whimsical! and lackadaisical! So monstrous! So blood-curdling! so +untrue! + +The usual gentlemen who patronise the "divarsion" having had their full +share of the fun, the debate was brought to a conclusion. Then the +gentlemen turned their attention to the remaining Irish Estimates, and +enjoyed themselves until the next morning. + +_Friday and Saturday._--Sittings at this time of the year get so mixed, +that they take two days to give a single date. Committee of the House as +before; Irish Estimates as before; "illigant divarsion" as before. And +so, half asleep, the remains of what, a few months ago, had been a +self-respecting House of Commons continued its dreary Session. + +_Total for the Week._--Irish Business carried on in Irish manner, and +CHAMBERLAIN booked for Canada. + + * * * * * + +SOME NOTES AT STARMOUTH. + +AN outcast once more! I exchange the blessing invoked on the perfidious +PLAPPER for curse of equal calibre. On--on--like the Wandering Jew, or +the Pilgrim of Love. No rest but the hotel for me! Starmouth landladies +beginning to enter into the humour of the thing--they appear now with a +broad grin, repeated on faces of accepted lodgers at windows. They +evidently do not consider me a sound investment. Meet other homeless +ones, searching--we scowl at one another jealously. + +[Illustration: Sound Investment.] + +Evening is getting on--which is more than I am. Sinking into a state of +maudlin self-pity. My poor Drama--and all the things I ordered to be +sent in to PLAPPER'S! He, or his lodger, will read by _my_ lamp, bathe +in _my_ bath, feed on my jam--while I ... but I cannot trust myself to +think of it--or Starmouth may lose one of its leading opticians?... +Later--_saved!_ It still seems incredible to me--but I have rooms at +last! At Mrs. SURGE'S--a widow lady, who, as she tells me herself, has +not been in a hurry to put up her card, as she likes "to pick her +lodgers." And she has picked Me--me, the Blighted, the scorned of +Starmouth! No sea-view--but plenty of horsehair. Sunflowers and +mignonette in long front garden; bow-window, and regiment of geraniums +drawn up in pots on little table. Go back, and recover luggage. + +Return to Mrs. SURGE'S roof, not without nervous apprehensions--she may +repent, or I might find the house a smoking ruin. Can't get over an idea +that the Fates are pursuing me. However, they seem to be taking a rest +just now. I am free at last to study Starmouth. Hitherto I have had eyes +for nothing but little cards with "Apartments" on them. + +No doubt about Starmouth being full. Streets crowded. Most of the young +men promenading in flannels and cricket "blazers," of startling +brilliancy. Children, young girls, and stout matrons in striped linen +yachting-caps. (When you are elderly, and at all stout, you do _not_ +appear to advantage in this form of head-dress.) _Chars-a-bancs_, flys, +tricycles, goat-chaises. Always thought Starmouth was a picturesque +fishing-village, with windmills, wooden huts, and drying-nets along +beach. It isn't. + +Still, of course, the change from all London associations, the absolute +quiet must have tendency to refresh the fagged brain. (Always rather a +gratifying reflection somehow, to think one has a fagged brain.) I +observe they are doing _Our Boys_ at the theatre. At the Aquarium are +the BUFFON Brothers with their celebrated Acrobatic Ass "from all the +London Music-Halls." Switchback Railway, too, on the beach, and +automatic machines about every five yards. Plenty of life here. + +[Illustration: Is-linked-on.] + +I am becoming gradually aware that Starmouth, though full, is not +exactly fashionable. I infer this, partly from the fact that already I +instinctively turn round to look curiously at the speaker, when I hear a +duly aspirated "h," _a la mode d'Islington_, partly from the prevalence +and popularity of the whelk-stalls on the Esplanade. Really good +society, even in its laxest mood, would scarcely support quite so many. + +On the Pier. Military Band. View of Beach from sea very beautiful at +night, fairy-like effect of continuous line of light from whelk-stalls. +Yet one would hesitate to put a touch of description like that into a +novel--curious the prudery of fiction, your realistic French author +would describe contents of all the little saucers. That is _Art_, and I +shall see if I can work it in to my drama somehow. + +Leave Pier. Back to Esplanade. Crowd round young man singing to +concertina a ditty about a certain JEMIMA who though "so fond of her +beer, was always a Mug." + +Sentimental Song, to harp, at next corner. About a Stowaway, with golden +curls, and "dear baby lips," and "sweet little eyes," how a cruel Mate +found him in the hold, and was so touched that he kissed him on the +forehead for speaking the "tree-youth," and the crew wept. Most +pathetic--Singer himself compelled to retire to public-house at +conclusion. + +Bed. Dream my Nautical Drama accepted by Mr. IRVING--a _waking_ dream, +too! + +_Sunday._--Breakfast. My landlady evidently person of strict propriety. +My two boiled eggs come in dressed in little red-worsted petticoats. It +never occurred to me before that a bare egg was calculated to call up a +blush--but really they make me feel almost shy now--they do look so coy, +so modest in their simple attire. Possibly, though, Starmouth eggs are +not very strong, and require artificial warmth. + +[Illustration: Holloway.] + +Bells. Stream of people, looking good, in tall hats and best things, +going inland--unregenerate stream, in tweeds, making for sands. +Salvation Army, with fervent but tactless drum. Sunday not a day for +Nautical Drama. Beach, "Will I take a tract?" Hate being rude, so +accept.... I have gone a hundred yards, and I have fourteen +tracts--almost enough to start distributing on my own account. + +_Evening._--Sacred Music. That is, I go to pier when Military Band is +playing. Band certainly broad in its views--I find them performing an +unmistakable polka. There are sacred dances, I know, in Oratorios--but +surely not _polkas_? As they follow it up with _Faust_, and the +_Jeunesse Doree_ Valse, I realise that I am on the secular, or Trafalgar +Pier--it is _Waterloo_ Pier that has the Sacred Band. + +Crush tremendous; all the art, chivalry, and beauty of Holloway and Mile +End pass in dazzling procession before me. "Shouldn't you laugh if this +old pier was to come down, eh? There's a tidy lot on it," observes a +Blazer to a Yachting Cap. "I should 'ang on to you if it did," responds +the Cap, tenderly--"we'd all gow down together!" + +[Illustration: My Lend.] + +The pier is certainly crowded--is it strong? Don't like the idea of +going down with my Drama unwritten. Shall retire--good night's rest, and +then start fresh with Drama in morning. + + * * * * * + +[Illustration] NOTICE.--Rejected Communications or Contributions, +whether MS., Printed Matter, Drawings, or Pictures of any description, +will in no case be returned, not even when accompanied by a Stamped and +Addressed Envelope, Cover, or Wrapper. To this rule there will be no +exception. + + * * * * * + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Punch, or the London Charivari. 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