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diff --git a/13538-0.txt b/13538-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..778396c --- /dev/null +++ b/13538-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,1379 @@ +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 13538 *** + +PUNCH, + +OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. + +VOL. 101. + + + +September 5, 1891. + + + + +SOME CIRCULAR NOTES. + +CHAPTER III. + +_REIMS--NIGHT--STREETS--ARRIVAL--LION +D'OR--DEPRESSION--LANDLADY--BOOTS--CATHEDRAL--LONELINESS--BED._ + +It is just ten o'clock. Reims seems to be in bed and fast asleep, +except for the presence in the streets of a very few persons, official +and unofficial, of whom the former are evidently on the alert as to +the movements, slouching and uncertain, of the latter. + +We drive under ancient Roman Arch; DAUBINET tells me its history in +a vague kind of way, breaking off suddenly to say that I shall see it +to-morrow, when, so he evidently wishes me to infer, the Roman Arch +will speak for itself. Then we drive past a desolate-looking Museum. +I believe it is a Museum, though DAUBINET's information is a trifle +uncertain on this point. + +We pass a theatre, brilliantly illuminated. I see posters on the wall +advertising the performance. A gendarme, in full uniform, as if he +had come out after playing _Sergeant Lupy_ in _Robert Macaire_, is +pensively airing himself under the _façade_, but there is no one else +within sight,--no one; not a _cocher_ with whom _Sergeant Lupy_ can +chat, nor even a _gamin_ to be ordered off; and though, from one point +of view, this exterior desolation may argue well for the business +the theatre is doing, yet, as there is no logical certainty that the +people, who do not appear outside a show, should therefore necessarily +be inside it, the temple of the Drama may, after all, be as empty as +was _Mr. Crummles_' Theatre, when somebody, looking through a hole in +the curtain, announced, in a state of great excitement, the advent of +another boy to the pit. + +And now we rattle over the stones joltingly, along a fairly +well-lighted street. All the shops fast asleep, with their eyelids +closed, that is, their shutters up, all except one establishment, +garishly lighted and of defiantly rakish, appearance, with the words +_Café Chantant_ written up in jets of gas; and within this _Café_, as +we jolt along, I espy a _dame du comptoir_, a weary waiter, and two +or three second-class, flashy-looking customers, drinking, smoking, +perhaps arguing, at all events, gesticulating, which, with the +low-class Frenchmen, comes to much the same thing in the end, the end +probably being their expulsion from the drinking-saloon. Where is +the _chantant_ portion of the _café_? I cannot see,--perhaps in some +inner recess. With this flash of brilliancy, all sign of life in +Reims disappears. We drive on, jolted and rattled over the cobble +stones--(if not cobble, what are they? Wobble?)--and so up to the +_Lion d'Or_. + +[Illustration] + +I am depressed. I can't help it. It _is_ depressing to be the only +prisoners in a black van; I should have said "passengers," but the +sombre character of the omnibus suggests "Black Maria;" it _is_ +depressing (I repeat to myself), to be the only two passengers +driving through a dead town at night-time, as if we were the very +personification of "the dead of night" being taken out in a hearse to +the nearest cemetery. Even DAUBINET feels it, for he is silent, except +when he tries to rouse himself by exclaiming "Caramba!" Only twice +does he make the attempt, and then, meeting with no response from +me, he collapses. Nor does it relieve depression to be set down in a +solemn courtyard, lighted by a solitary gas-lamp. This in itself would +be quite sufficient to make a weary traveller melancholy, without the +tolling of a gruesome bell to announce our arrival. This dispiriting +sound seems to affect nobody in the house, except a lengthy young +man in a desperate state of unwakefulness, who sleepily resents our +arrival in the midst of his first slumber (he must have gone to bed at +nine), and drowsily expresses a wish to be informed (for he will not +take the trouble to examine into the matter for himself) whether we +have any luggage; and this sense of depression becomes aggravated and +intensified when no genial Boniface (as the landlord used invariably +to be styled in romances of half a century ago) comes forth to greet +us with a hearty welcome, and no buxom smiling hostess, is there to +order the trim waiting-maid, with polished candlestick, "to show +the gentleman his room." And, at length, when a hostess, amiable but +shivering, does appear, there is still an absence of all geniality; +no questions are asked as to what we might like to take in the way +of refreshment, there is no fire to cheer us, no warm drinks are +suggested, no apparent probability of getting food or liquor, even if +we wanted it, which, thank Heaven, we don't, not having recovered from +the last hurriedly-swallowed meal at the railway buffet _en route_. +Yes, at the "Lion d'Or" at Reims, on this occasion, _hic et nunc_, is +a combination of melancholy circumstances which would have delighted +_Mark Tapley_, and, as far as I know, _Mark Tapley_ only. + +"On an occasion like this," I murmur to myself, having no one else to +whom I can murmur it confidentially,--for DAUBINET, having a knowledge +of the house, has disappeared down some mysterious passage in order to +examine and choose our rooms,--"there is, indeed, some merit in being +jolly." + +DAUBINET returns. He has found the rooms. The somnolent boots will +carry our things upstairs. Which of the two rooms will I have? They +are _en suite_. I make no choice. It is, I protest, a matter of +perfect indifference to me; but one room being infinitely superior +to the other, I select it, apologetically. DAUBINET, being more of a +_Mark Tapley_ than I am, is quite satisfied with the arrangement, and +has almost entirely recovered his wonted high spirits. + +[Illustration] + +"Very good. _Très bien!_ Da! Petzikoff! Pedadjoi! I shall sleep like +a top. _Bon soir! Buono notte! Karascho!_ Blass the Prince of WAILES!" +and he has disappeared into his bedroom. I never knew a man so quick +in unpacking, getting into bed, and going to sleep. He hasn't far +to go, or else Morpheus must have caught him up, _en route_, and +hypnotised him. I hear him singing and humming for two minutes; I hear +him calling out to me, "All right? Are you all right?" and, once again +invoking the spirit of _Mark Tapley_, I throw all the joviality I +can into my reply as I say, through the wall, "Quite, thanks. Jolly! +Good-night!" But my reply is wasted on him; he has turned a deaf ear +to me, the other being on the pillow, and gives no sign. If he is +asleep, the suddenness of the collapse is almost alarming. Once again +I address him. No answer. I continue my unpacking. All my portmanteau +arrangements seem to have become unaccountably complicated. I pause +and look round. Cheerless. The room is bare and lofty, the bed is +small, the window is large, and the one solitary _bougie_ sheds +a gloom around which makes unpacking a difficulty. I pull up the +blind. A lovely moonlight night. In front of me, as if it had had the +politeness to put itself out of the way to walk up here, and pay me a +visit, stands the Cathedral, that is--some of it; but what I can see +of it, _au clair de la lune_, fascinates me. It is company, it is +friendly. But it is chilly all the same, and the sooner I close the +window and retire the better. Usual difficulty, of course, in closing +French window. After a violent struggle, it is done. The bed looks +chilly, and I feel sure that that stuffed, pillow-like thing, which is +to do duty for blanket and coverlet, can't be warm enough. + +Hark! a gentle snore. A very gentle one. It is the first time I ever +knew a snore exercise a soothing effect on the listener. This is +decidedly soporific. It is an invitation to sleep. I accept. The +Cathedral clock sounds a _carillon_. It plays half a tune, too, as if +this was all it had learnt up to the present, or perhaps to intimate +that there is more where that comes from, only I must wait for +to-morrow, and be contented with this instalment. I am. Half a tune is +better than no tune at all, or _vice versâ_: it doesn't matter. When +the tune breaks off I murmur to myself, "To be continued in our next;" +and so--as I believe, for I remember nothing after this--I doze off to +sleep on this my first night in the ancient town of Reims. + + * * * * * + +BUMBLE BROUGHT TO BOOK. + + ["Mr. Ritchie ... has taken the unusual step of preparing a + memorandum explanatory of ... the Public Health (London) + Act, which comes into operation on the 1st of January ... + The Vestries and District Councils ... have come out with + increased powers, but also with increased responsibilities. + They are in future known as 'the sanitary authorities'; they + must make bye-laws, and enforce not only their own, but + those made by the County Council; and, if they fail in their + duty--as, for example, in the matter of removing house-refuse, + or keeping the streets clean--they are liable to a fine. It is + pleasant to think that, in future, any ratepayer may bring Mr. + Bumble to book."--_The Times_.] + +[Illustration: _President of the Local Government Board_. "THERE'S MR. +BUMBLE'S WORK, MADAM, AND IT'LL BE YOUR OWN FAULT IF YOU DON'T KEEP +HIM UP TO IT!"] + +_Bumble_. Wot, more dooties piled upon me? It's a beastly black shame + and a bore. + Which Ritchie beats _Oliver Twist_ in a canter at "asking for more." + Didn't grasp his dashed Hact, not at fust, though of course I opposed + it like fun; + But this 'ere Memyrandum's a startler. _I_ want to know what's to be done. + _Me_ keep the streets clean, _me_ go poking my dalicot nose into 'oles + As ain't fit for 'ogs, but is kep' for them Sweaters' pale wictims--pore + soles? + _Me_ see that the dust-pails is emptied, and underground bedrooms made + sweet? + _Me_ nail the Court Notices hup upon Butchers as deals in bad meat? + Great Scissors, it's somethink houtrageous. I knew Ritchie's Act meant + 'ard lines, + And it's wus than I could 'ave emagined. But wot I funk most is them + FINES!!! + Fine _Me_--if I make a mistake, as, perhaps, even BUMBLE may do! + That _is_ turning the tables a twister! More powers? Ah, well, that + might do, + But increase my great "Responsibilities," give them Ratepayers a chance + Of a calling _me_ hover the coals! Won't this make my hold henemies dance? + I never did like that HYGEIA, a pompous and nose-poking minx-- + A sort of a female _Poll Pry_, with a heye like an 'ork or a lynx; + But the making me "Sanit'ry," too--oh, I know wot _that_ means to a T. + She's cock--or say, hen--of the walk, and her sanit'ry slave'll be Me! + Oh, I fancy I see myself sweeping the snow from the streets with a broom, + Or explorin'--with fingers to nose--some effluvious hunderground room! + Or a-trotting around with the dust-pails when scavengers chance to run + short! + Oh, just _won't_ the street-boys chyike me and 'ousemaids of BUMBLE make + sport? + Disgustin'! But there RITCHIE stands with his dashed Memyrandum. A look + In his heye seems to tell me that he too enjoys bringing BUMBLE to book, + As the _Times_--I'm serprised at that paper!--most pleasantly puts it + to-day. + My friend BONES the Butcher too! Moses! wot _would_ my old parlour-chum + say + If he saw me a nailing a Notice--but no, that's too horrid a dream. + I must be a 'aving a Nightmare, and things cannot be wot they seem. + I could do with mere Laws--bye or hother-wise--Hacts, jest like Honours, + is easy, + But this Memyrandum of RITCHIE's queers BUMBLE, and makes him feel queasy, + Can't pertend as I don't hunderstand it, it's plain as my nose, clear as + mud. + _I'm_ responsible for--say Snow-clearing! It stirs up a Beadle's best + blood! + And when they can _Fine_ me for negligence, jest like some rate-paying + scrub-- + Oh! Porochial dignity's bust! I must seek a pick-up at my Pub! + +[_Does so._ + + * * * * * + +[Illustration: A MODEST REQUEST. + +"I HEAR YOU'RE SO CLEVER ABOUT ZENANA WORK. WILL YOU SHOW ME THE +STITCH?"] + + * * * * * + +"FIRST-CLASS" TRAVELLING + +_MADE EASY, BY PAYING A "THIRD-CLASS" FARE AND A SMALL ADDITIONAL +TIP._ + +(BY ONE WHO HAS DONE IT.) + +1. Arrive at station in four-wheeler, accompanied by lots of +superfluous rugs, wraps, air-cushions, and pillows, &c., and if +your domestic arrangements permit of it, two young ladies and one +middle-aged one, who should assume an anxious and sympathetic mien. + +2. On your cab drawing up, stay with a gentle forbearance the rush +of the ordinary attentive porter, and request him, as if you had +something important to communicate, to send you "the guard of the +train" by which you propose to travel. On the appearance of this +official, who will not fail to turn up, you will now appeal to one of +your three female assistants, the middle-aged one for choice. Placing +your case, as it were, in her hands, she will, in a half-sympathetic, +half-commanding tone, address the official somewhat as follows:--"This +gentleman, who is travelling to Barminster, and is going third-class +(she makes a point of this), is, as you see, a great invalid, and +he will require (this with a certain sense of being understood to +mean a handsome tip) a carriage to himself." If said with a certain +self-assurance, involving a species of lofty wink, this will probably +be understood in the right sense by the official in question, and will +be probably met by some such assurance as--"The train is very full, +Madam, but I will do my best for the gentleman, and can ensure him, I +think, a compartment to himself, at least, as far as Bolchester, where +I leave the train. But I will explain the matter to my successor, and +I have no doubt that he will be able (this also with a significant +wink) to ensure the gentleman's seclusion. You are, I think, four? If +you will follow me, and take my arm, Sir, I think we shall be able to +manage it for you." + +3. Enlist the assistance of several attendant porters, regardless +of apparent outlay, who have been fairly let into your secret, and +are prepared to, and in fact absolutely do, empty a third-class +compartment already packed with passengers for Barminster, who retreat +awe-stricken at your approach. + +4. Immediately on taking possession of your carriage, recline the +whole length of the five seats, faced by your three sympathetic +and anxious-miened female companions. Be careful to give each of +the assistant porters certainly not less than sixpence apiece in +ostentatious fashion. Do not, however, as yet administer the shilling, +or perhaps, eighteenpence you purpose giving to the original guard of +the train who is to hand you over to the official who will have charge +of you after Bolchester. + +5. You will possibly have a _mauvais quart d'heure_ before departure, +for though your guard, in hopes of the remunerative fee, will +have carefully locked you in, he will not be able to prevent the +calculating and more or less unfeeling British public, who, composed +of a party of nine, are looking for as many places as they can find +together, from discovering that you have six vacant places in your +carriage, and directing the attention of other railway officials, not +initiated into your secret agreement, to this circumstance. You must +therefore be prepared for some such curt brutality as, "Why, look +'ere, EMMA, there's room for 'arf-a-dozen of us 'ere!" or, "I'm +sure 'e needn't be a sprawlin' like that, takin' 'arf the carriage +to 'isself," a rebuke which your feminine supporters resent in +their severest manner. You are, however, at length saved by the +interposition of your guardian angel, who sweeps away the party of +nine unseated ones with a voice of commanding control, as much as to +say, "This isn't your end of the train; besides, can't you see the +poor gentleman's pretty well dying?" And he does hurry them off, and +pack them in somewhere or other, but whether to their satisfaction or +not, it is easier to hazard a guess than faithfully to record. + +6. Bolchester is reached, and you are formally introduced to your +final guarding and protecting angel, who rapidly takes in the +situation, and by an assurance that he will see to your comfort, +this, accompanied by a slightly perceptible wink, leaves you in happy +expectation, which the result justifies, of reaching your destination +uninvaded. + + * * * * * + +THE TRAVELLING COMPANIONS. + + NO. V. Scene--_Upper deck of the Rhine Steamer, König + Wilhelm, somewhere between Bonn and Bingen. The little + tables on deck are occupied by English, American, and German + tourists, drinking various liquids, from hock to Pilsener + beer, and eating veal-cutlets. Mr. CYRUS K. TROTTER is on + the lower deck, discussing the comparative merits of the New + York hotels with a fellow countryman. Miss MAUD S. TROTTER + is seated on the after-deck in close conversation with + CULCHARD. PODBURY _is perched on a camp-stool in the forward + part. Near him a British Matron, with a red-haired son, in + a green and black blazer, and a blue flannel nightcap, and a + bevy of rabbit-faced daughters, are patronising a tame German + Student in spectacles, who speaks a little English._ + +[Illustration: Mr. Cyrus K. Trotter discussing New York Hotels.] + +_The British Matron_. Oh, you _ought_ to see London; it's our +capital--chief city, you know. Very grand--large--four million +inhabitants! [_With pride, as being in some way responsible for this._ + +_A Rabbit-faced Daughter_ (_with a simper_). Quite a little _world_! + + [_She looks down her nose, as if in fear of having said + something a little too original._ + +_The Germ. Stud._ No, I haf not yet at London peen. Ven I vill pedder +Englisch learn, I go. + +_The Blazer_. You read our English books, I suppose? DICKENS, you +know, and HOMER, eh? About the Trojan War--that's his _best_ work! + +_The Stud._ (_Ollendorffically_). I haf not read DIGGINS; but I haf +read ze bapers by _Bigvig_. Zey are vary indereshtin, and gurious. + +_A Patriotic Young Scot_ (_to an admiring Elderly Lady in a black +mushroom hat_). Eh, but we just made a pairrty and went up Auld +Drachenfels, and when we got to th' tope, we danced a richt gude Scots +reel, and sang, "_We're a' togither an' naebody by_." concluding--just +to show, ye'll understan', that we were loyal subjics--wi' "_God Save +th' Queen_." The peasants didna seem just to know what to mak' of us, +I prawmise ye! + +_The Black Mushroom_. How I wish I'd been one of you! + +_The Young Scot_ (_candidly_). I doot your legs would ha' stood such +wark. + + [_PODBURY becomes restless, and picks his way among the + camp-stools to CULCHARD and Miss TROTTER._ + +_Podbury_ (_to himself_). Time _I_ had a look in, I think. (_Aloud._) +Well, Miss Trotter, what do you think of the Rhine, as far as you've +got? + +_Miss T._ Well, I guess it's navigable, as far as _I've_ got. + +_Podb._ No, but I mean to say--does it come up to the mark in the +scenery line, you know? + +_Miss T._ I cannot answer that till I know whereabouts it is they mark +the scenery-line. I expect Mr. CULCHARD knows. He knows pretty well +everything. Would you like to have him explain the scenery to you +going along? His explanations are vurry improving, I assure you. + +_Podb._ I daresay; but the scenery just here is so flat that even my +friend's remarks won't improve it. + +_Culch._ (_producing his note-book ostentatiously_). I do not propose +to attempt it. No doubt you will be more successful in entertaining +Miss TROTTER than I can pretend to be. I retire in your favour. [_He +scribbles._ + +_Podb._ Is that our expenses you're corking down there, CULCHARD, eh? + +_Culch._ (_with dignity_). If you want to know, I am "corking down," +to adopt your elegant expression, a sonnet that suggested itself to +me. + +_Podb._ Much better cork that _up_, old chap--hadn't he, Miss TROTTER? + + [_He glances at her for appreciation._ + +_Miss T._ That's so. I don't believe the poetic spirit has much +chance of slopping over so long as Mr. PODBURY is around. You have +considerable merit as a stopper, Mr. PODBURY. + +_Podb._ I see; I'd better clear out till the poetry has all gurgled +out of him, eh? Is that the idea? + +_Miss T._ If it is, it's your own, so I guess it's a pretty good one. + + [_PODBURY shoulders off._ + +_Culch._ (_with his pathetic stop on_). I wish I had more of your +divine patience! Poor fellow, he is not without his good points; but I +do find him a thorn in my flesh occasionally, I'm afraid. + +_Miss T._ Well, I don't know as a thorn in the flesh is any the +pleasanter for having a good point. + +_Culch._ Profoundly true, indeed. I often think I could like him +better if there were less in him to like. I assure you he tries me so +at times that I could almost wish I was back at work in my department +at Somerset House! + +_Miss T._ I daresay you have pretty good times there, too. Isn't that +one of your leading dry goods stores? + +_Culch._ (_pained_). It is not; it is a Government Office, and I am +in the Pigeonhole and Docket Department, with important duties to +discharge. I hope you didn't imagine I sold ribbons and calico over a +counter? + +_Miss T._ (_ambiguously_). Well, I wasn't just sure. It takes a pretty +bright man to do that where I come from. + +_An Old Lady_ (_who is sitting next to PODBURY, and reading a +home-letter to another Old Lady_). "Dear MARIA and dear MADELINE +are close by, they have taken very comfortable lodgings in Marine +Crescent. Dear MADELINE's frame is expected down next Saturday." + +_Second Old Lady_. MADELINE's frame! Is anything wrong with the poor +girl's spine? + +_First Old Lady_. I never heard of it. Oh, I see, it's _fiancé_, +my dear. CAROLINE _does_ write so illegibly. (_Continuing._) +"Um--um,--suppose you know she will be maimed--" (perhaps it _is_ +her spine after all--oh, _married_, to be sure), "very slowly" (is it +slowly or shortly, I wonder?), um--um, "very quiet wedding, nobody but +dear Mr. WILKINSON and his hatter." + +_Second O.L._ The idea of choosing one's hatter for one's best man! +I'm surprised MARIA should allow it! + +_First O.L._ Maria always _was_ peculiar--still, now I come to look, +it's more like "brother," which is certainly _much_ more suitable. +(_Continuing._) "She will have no--no bird's-marks ..." (Now, what +_does_ that--should you think that meant "crows-feet"? Oh, no, _how_ +stupid of me--_bridesmaids_, of course!)--"and will go to the otter +a plain guy"--(Oh, Caroline really is _too_....)--"to the _altar_ in +plain _grey_! She has been given such quantities of pea-nuts"--(very +odd things to give a girl! Oh, _presents_! um, um)--"Not settled +yet where to go for their hangman"--(the officiating clergyman, I +suppose--very flippant way of putting it, I _must_ say! It's meant for +_honeymoon_, though, I see, to be _sure_!) &c., &c. + +_Culch._ I should like to be at Nuremberg with you. It would be an +unspeakable delight to watch the expansion of a fresh young soul in +that rich mediæval atmosphere! + +_Miss T._ I guess you'll have opportunities of watching Mr. PODBURY's +fresh young soul under those conditions, any way. + +_Culch._ It would not be at all the same thing--even if he--but you +_do_ think you're coming to Nuremberg, don't you? + +_Miss T._ Well, it's this way. Poppa don't want to get fooling around +any more one-horse towns than he can help, and he's got to be fixed up +with the idea that Nuremberg is a prominent European sight before he +drops everything to get there. + +_Culch._ I will undertake to interest him in Nuremberg. Fortunately, +we are all getting off at Bingen, and going, curiously enough, to the +same hotel. (_To himself_.) Confound that fellow PODBURY, here he is +_again_! + +_Podb._ (_to himself, as he advances_). If she's carrying on with +that fellow, CULCHARD, to provoke me, I'll soon show her how little +I--(_Aloud._) I say, old man, hope I'm not interrupting you, but I +just want to speak to you for a minute, if Miss TROTTER will excuse +us. Is there any particular point in going as far as Bingen to-night, +eh? + +_Culch._ (_resignedly_). As much as there is in not going farther than +somewhere else, _I_ should have thought. + +_Podb._ Well, but look here--why not stop at Bacharach, and see what +sort of a place it is? + +_Culch._ You forget that our time is limited if we're going to stick +to our original route. + +_Podb._ Yes, of course; mustn't waste any on the Rhine. Suppose we +push on to Maintz to-night, and get the Rhine off our hands then? +(_With a glance at Miss TROTTER._) The sooner I've done with this +steamer business the better! + +_Miss T._ Well, Mr. PODBURY, that's not a vurry complimentary remark +to make before me! + +_Podb._ We've seen so little of one another lately that it can hardly +make much difference--to _either_ of us--can it? + +_Miss T._ Now I call that real kind, you're consoling me in advance! + +_The Steward_ (_coming up_). De dickets dat I haf nod yed seen! +(_examining_ CULCHARD's _coupons_). For Bingen--so? + +_Culch. I_ am. This gentleman gets off--is it Bacharach or Maintz, +PODBURY? + +_Podb._ (_sulkily_). Neither, as it happens. I'm for Bingen, too, as +you won't go anywhere else. Though you _did_ say when we started, that +the advantage of travelling like this was that we could go on or stop +just as the fancy took us! + +_Culch._ (_calmly_). I did, my dear PODBURY. But it never occurred to +me that the fancy would take you to get tired of a place before you +got there! + +_Podb._ (_as he walks forwards_). Hang that fellow! I know I shall +punch his head some day. And She didn't seem to care whether I stayed +or not. (_Hopefully._) But you never _can_ tell with women! + + [_He returns to his camp-stool and the letter-reading Old + Ladies._ + + * * * * * + +A SONG IN SEASON. + + 'Twas the autumn time, dear love, + The English autumn weather; + And, oh, it was sweet, it was hard to beat + As we sailed that day together! + It was cold when we started out, + As we noted with sad surprise; + And the tip of your nose was as blue, I suppose, + As the blue of your dear, dear eyes. + + We sailed to Hampton Court, + And the sun had burnt us black; + Then we dodged a shower for the half of an hour, + And then we skated back; + Till the weather grew depressed + At the shifting state of its luck, + And the glass, set fair, gave it up in despair, + And much of the lightning struck. + + We sat on the bank in the storm, + In the steady fall of the snow, + In the stinging hail and the howling gale, + And the scorching sun, you know; + We sat in it all--yes, all! + We cared for no kind of weather-- + What made us so mad was the fact that we had + The whole of the kinds together. + + * * * * * + +ROBERT'S FUTURE. + +My kind Amerrycain aquaintance--I musn't call him frend tho' he is +so werry free and social with me, for I hopes I knos my propper +place--has giwen me a long acount of his week at Brighton. It seems +as he was in grate luck, for it was Brighton Race Week, and he is +good enuff to say that, whatever diffrent opinyons the men of other +countries may find in regard to the warious customs and manners of our +grate but rayther rum nashun, they all agrees, with one acord, that a +English race-course is the prettyest and nicest thing of the sort that +the hole world can show. I rayther thinks as he dropt his money there, +but it couldn't have bin werry much, for it didn't have the least +effeck on his good temper. It seems as he got interdooced to some +sillybrated pusson who rites in papers and seemed to kno everythink, +but wot he wanted to kno was if I coud tell him what caused his +werry bad indijeshun, to which I at once replied, without a moment's +hesitashun, that it was probberbly owing to his being, wich he told +me he was, a sort of relashun of a real Common Councilman of the +Grand old Citty of London! at which he larfed quite hartily and said, +"Bravo, Mr. ROBERT, that's one to you!" + +[Illustration] + +He arterwards arsked me for the werry best place to go to, where he +coud have jest about a few hours quiet refleckshun all to hisself +without not nothink to disturb him; so I sent him to Marlow, +gentlemanly Marlow, if you please, with a letter to my old friend BILL +the Fisherman, and there, he told me arterwards, he had sich a luvly +day of it as he never rememberd having afore. He sat for fours ours in +a luvly Punt, in a bewtifool drizzlin rain, with lots of fish a biting +away, but he was much too much engaged to pay the least atenshun to +'em, and there wasn't not noboddy to bother him; so he sat there, and +thort out about the most himportentest ewent of his life; and when I +waited upon him at the "Grand Hotel" arterwards, I don't think as I +ewer seed a reel Gent, as he suttenly is, in such jolly good sperrits. +So, seeing how werry successfool I had been, I wentured to say to +him,--"And now, Sir, if you wants to see gentlemanly Marlow in quite +another aspic, and one that estonishes and delites all as sees it, +just take the 9:45 train from Paddington next Sunday, and, drectly +you gets there, go at wunce to the Lock, and there, for ours and ours +you will see sitch a sight of most ravishing bewty, combined with +helegance and hart, as praps no other spot in all the hole world +can show! Why, Sir," I said, "every time as the full Lock opens its +yawning gates, at the command of one of the principel hofficers of the +Tems Conserwancy, you will think of the Gates of Parrydice a hopening +for a excurshun of hundreds of the most bewtifoollest Angels as +ginerally lives there!" "Why, Mr. ROBERT," says the Amerrycain, +"your henthusiasm xcites my curosity, and I'll suttenly go, and," he +added, with almost a blushing smile, "I rayther thinks as I'll take a +companion with me." + +And off he went on the follering Sunday, and didn't git back till +seven o'clock to dinner, and his fust words to me was,--"Mr. ROBERT, +you didn't in the least xagerate the bewty of the scene as you sent me +for to see--it was as strange and as lovely as a Faery Tail! I wasn't +at all surprised to see what Swells there was among 'em, and what +werry particklar attentions they paid to 'em, cos I reklek how My Lord +RANGDULF CHURCHILL slected that particklar spot, on henny particklar +fine Sunday, to seek that werry welcome and much wanted change from +his sewere Parlementary dooties, as he used wen he were ere among us +to rekquire, for I guess as there ain't sitch a sight to be seen not +nowheres else so well calklated to brighten a pore feller up who's +jest about done up with reel hard work." I didn't quite understand +what made my Amerrycain smile quite so slily as he finished his +rayther long speech, but he most certenly did, and then set to work at +his dinner. + +He arterwards told me as how as he means to pay a wisit, when the +season begins, to our new Hotel at Monty Carlo, sumwheres in France, +and try his new system at the Tables, and if he suckseeds, as he knows +he shall, he will, praps, sum day tell me his secret, and then I shall +have to ask my gentlemanly Manager here to let me have a few weeks +there, and then I shan't want to do any more waiting! What a prospeck! + +ROBERT. + + * * * * * + +[Illustration: COUNTRY-HOUSE PETS. + +_The Morning-Room at Glen-Dimity Castle, after Lunch. Mr. Belamy Tabby +is singing "Hi tiddley hi ti, hi, ti, hi!_" + +_The Duchess_. "HOW CLEVER AND AMUSIN' YOUR FRIEND, MR. WHATSHISNAME +IS!--_TABBY_, ISN'T IT? SO GOOD-LOOKIN' AND GENTLEMANLIKE TOO! QUITE A +GODSEND ON A RAINY DAY LIKE THIS, WHEN ALL THE MEN ARE OUT SHOOTIN' OR +FISHIN', OR SOMETHING! IS HE MARRIED?" + +_Noble Hostess_. "OH YES; BUT WHAT'S SO NICE ABOUT HIM, HE DOESN'T +MIND BEIN' ASKED WITHOUT HIS WIFE. THOSE SORT OF PERSONS SO OFTEN +EXPECT THEIR WIVES TO BE ASKED TOO, AND THAT'S SUCH A BORE, YOU KNOW!" + +_Her Grace_. "YES; HOW SENSIBLE OF HIM! I MUST GET HIM TO COME TO US +AT BRASENOSE TOWERS!"] + + * * * * * + +THE CANADIAN "SEARCH-LIGHT." + +(A SONG OF SINCERE SYMPATHY.) + +AIR--"_THE SLAVE IN THE DISMAL SWAMP_." + + In dark fens of the Dismal Swamp + The Search-Light sends its ray! + What is that hideous oozy tramp? + What creatures crawling 'midst jungle damp + Scuttle from light away? + + Revealing radiance shine, oh shine, + Through black bayou and brake, + Where knotted parasites intertwine, + And through the tangles of poisonous vine + Glideth the spotted snake. + + Where hardly a human foot would pass, + Or an honest heart would dare + The quaking mud of the foul morass, + With rank weed choked, and with clotted grass, + Fit for a reptile's lair. + + They dread the light, do those dismal things, + Its gleam they dare not face. + Their snaky writhings, their bat-like wings, + Their quaking menace of fangs and stings + Make horror of the place. + + All things should be so bright and fair + In a land so glad and free; + But the Search-Light layeth dark secrets bare, + And shows how loathsomeness builds a lair + In a land of Liberty. + + Push on, brave bearer of piercing Light, + Through pestilential gloom, + Where crawls the spawn of Corruption's night! + Deal out, stout searcher, to left and right, + The cleansing strokes of doom. + + That fair lithe form in that fleet frail bark + Is a comely Nemesis, + Before whose menace 'tis good to mark + The reptile dwellers in dens so dark + Driven with growl and hiss. + + The saurian huge and the lizard slow, + Foul shapes of ruthless greed, + And the stealthy snake of the sudden blow, + All owl-like shrink from the Search-Light's glow, + Or fly with felon speed. + + Corruption's spawn must be chased and slain, + Scourged from the wholesome earth. + It clingeth else like the curse of CAIN. + Smite, smite like flail upon garnered grain, + These things of bestial birth! + + * * * * * + +OLD DOGGEREL RE-DRESSED. + +(_AFTER READING CERTAIN CRITICISMS ON CERTAIN NOVELISTS, CERTAIN +COMMENTS ON THOSE CRITICISMS, AND CERTAIN REJOINDERS TO THOSE +COMMENTS_.) + + Little novelists have little critics, + Like little gnats, to bite 'em; + Those little critics have lesser critics, + And so _ad infinitum_! + + * * * * * + +LINES BY A LEWISHAM WITLER. + + The PENN is mightier than the sword-- + Of any Red-Rad whipster. + I _said_ he'd win--doubted _my_ word; + But I'm the O.K. tipster. + Rads roughed on me and called me "Bung;" + I've bunged them up--a corker-- + At the result their heads they hung. + _They_ whip the Witler? Walker! + We're the PENN-holders. For their man + That One-Six-Nine-Three nicked him, + Witlers warmed up "Old Warmingpan;" + PENN gave him odds, and licked him. + "Villadom" did its duty--game; + Rads jeered it; that's their mania. + Lewisham? No, we'll change the name, + And call it--PENN-Sylvania! + + * * * * * + +TIP BY A TORY.--The _Star_, talking of "HODGE's Political Salvation," +says that Mr. GLADSTONE has given the Liberal country programme in a +sentence. _I_ will give it in a word. It is all "Hodge-podge!" + + * * * * * + +UNATTRACTIVE COMBINATION.--If a young woman is "fast," and uncommonly +ugly, wouldn't she make a great mistake were she to combine the two +qualities, and be "fast-'idious"? + + * * * * * + +NAME FOR A CERTAIN SECTION OF THE ILLUSTRATED PRESS.--The Nude +Journalism. + + * * * * * + +[Illustration: THE CANADIAN "SEARCH-LIGHT."] + + * * * * * + +THE COQUETTE OF THE PERIOD. + +[Illustration] + + You vowed you loved me, but your eyes + Said just the same to dozens, + The music of your low replies, + Was heard by several cousins. + Forgive me if I could not cope, + With charms so comprehensive; + And scarce believed a love whose scope, + Was really too extensive. + + The fashion of the age you'll say, + But I've a predilection + For girls who in the olden way + Retain one man's affection. + You favoured me with witching smiles, + You gave me frequent dances; + But other men that I wished miles + Away, enjoyed your glances. + + Man loves as men loved in old times, + And as in legends hoary, + We celebrate a maid in rhymes, + Is that too old a story? + But still man loves one girl alone, + And flies when he discovers-- + That she he thought was all his own, + Has half a dozen lovers. + + You sighed and said that you felt hurt, + And prettily you pouted, + When anybody called you flirt, + A fact I never doubted. + And yet such wheedling ways you had, + Man yielded willy-nilly; + And half your swains were nearly mad, + And all of us were silly. + + Youth's first illusions fly apace, + And now one man confesses + He scarcely can recal your face, + Or colour of your dresses. + And whether you were false or true, + Or what fate followed after, + Remembrance only keeps of you + The echo of your laughter. + + * * * * * + +PROVERBIAL PRAYER FOR A PAUPER-HATING BUMBLE.--Give me neither poverty +nor Ritchies! + + * * * * * + +A CREDITABLE INCIDENT IN THE NEXT WAR. + +(_AN ADVANCE SHEET FROM MR. PUNCH'S PROPHETIC HISTORY OF EUROPE._) + + ["Italy is bound to maintain abroad the appearance of a great + and rich country, while at home she ought to conduct herself + as if in straitened circumstances."--_Daily Paper_.] + +The Italian Army had been completely victorious. There was but one +drawback to the entire satisfaction of the Commander-in-Chief--one +of his favourite Generals was under arrest, and was being tried by +court-martial. The accused had refused the assistance of Counsel, and +had insisted upon pleading "Guilty." + +"But," urged the Commander-in-Chief, "you surely have some excuse. +To sack a private house belonging to your own countryman was +unpardonable. It was an aimless piece of Vandalism! For your own +reputation--for the sake of your ancestors--on behalf of your +descendants--some explanation should be afforded." + +"Surely this is no time for levity," murmured a Warrior-Journalist, +who was suspected of combining with the duties of a hero the labours +of a Special Correspondent for a Roman journal. + +"Do I look like a jester?" asked the Prisoner; and then he added, "My +brave companions, it is for the honour of our country--to conceal her +poverty from the sneers of foreigners--that I carry with me the secret +of my action to the family vault. Press me no further--see, I am ready +for the firing-party!" + +There was nothing further to be said, and the little procession made +its way to the Barrack Square. The Prisoner shook hands warmly with +his Judges, and with the weeping soldiery who were to act as +his executioners. "I will give the words of command myself. +Ready--present--" + +"Stop!" + +An aged man had approached the group. He was out of breath with +running. The firing-party paused, and lowered their rifles. + +"Do not listen to him!" shouted the Accused. "And if he will not +desist, shoot him too--shoot us both." + +"You exceed your duties, Sirrah," said the Commander-in-Chief, with +some severity--for discipline was strict in the Italian Army. "It is +for me to command, not you!" The Prisoner lowered his head at the just +reproof, and then his superior officer continued, "Why do you ask us +to desist?" + +"Because the Prisoner is innocent. He acted from the best of motives. +I was the proprietor of the shop he sacked, and I (for, after all, I +am a patriot) demand his pardon!" + +"You!" exclaimed the Commander-in-Chief. "Surely you ought to be the +last to urge such a plea. We do not know what your shop contained, but +presume that the contents was your property." + +"You are right in the presumption," acquiesced the aged man; "but +these documents will show that he was right, from a military point of +view, to sack my shop." + +The Commander-in-Chief hastily glanced at the papers, and with a +thrill of pleasure, ordered his favourite General to be released. + +"This mystery must never be revealed," he murmured. And it never +would, had not the hero-journalist printed the story. Thus it was that +the tale became international property. Now it is known all the +world over that the General sacked a shop to obtain the arms and +accoutrements of the Italian Army. But it is still (comparatively) +a secret that the proprietor of the establishment carried on on the +premises the business of a pawnbroker! + + * * * * * + +COMPULSORY GREEK; + +OR, BYRON UP TO DATE. + +(_A BRITISH BOY'S VIEW ON A BURNING QUESTION._) + +[Illustration] + + Compulsory Greek! Compulsory Greek! + Though "burning SAPPHO loved and sung," + Why in Greek shackles should they seek + To bind the British schoolboy's tongue? + Eternal bores, that Attic set, + But, heaven be thanked, we'll "chuck" them yet. + + "The Scian and the Teian Muse" + Ruled us as tyrants absolute; + Now even pedagogues refuse + To stodge us with such stale old fruit. + Why should the STANLEY-dowered West + Make the _Anabasis_ a test? + + They teach us about Marathon, + But what is Marathon to me? + Tell me of fights still going on, + Men "rightly struggling to be free;" + Nay, _I_ find interest much more brave in + The mill 'twixt Thingummy and SLAVIN. + + Oh, feed me not on mythic lore, + But Science and the modern Fact, + Teach me Electric Fires to store, + The difference 'twixt "Bill" and "Act." + Why should a Cockney care a "cuss" + For HOMER or for ÆSCHYLUS? + + For who _are_ they? But what art thou, + My Country? On thy fertile shore + The heroic lyre is tuneless now; + To scheme for dividends, dig for ore, + _These_ are the things we hold divine, + Not HOMER's long-resounding line. + + If you would make a splendid name + Amidst a lucre-loving race, + You must be in god Mammon's game, + And hustle for a foremost place. + What do we want with poets here? + For Greece a snub, for Greek a sneer! + + Must _we_ still pore o'er classic text + Because our simple fathers said + It made "a gentleman"? What next? + Let the dead languages stay dead! + Hooray for Fact and Rule of Three! + Compulsory Greek is fiddle-de-dee. + + Place me on Stock Exchange's steep + With nought to do but sell and buy + To Bull and Bear we need not keep + Our classics up; that's all my eye. + Ho! for the Factory, Mart, and Mine + The toils of Greek our souls decline. + + * * * * * + + +[Illustration: THE POOR OVERWORKED PARLIAMENTARY OFFICIAL TRIES TO +ESCAPE FOR A HOLIDAY WITHIN HIS OWN COUNTRY. + + The poor overworked official escapes for a holiday + + he is observed and followed by a crowd of officials + + but Escapes--up in a Balloon + Away! + + The wind changes + + He flies to the Seaside + Oh horror! + + a narrow Escape! + + But eventually + lands on his + own estate + + and is delighted + to see his tenants + coming out to welcome him! + + but it turns out to be + a demonstration against + his policy!! + + Escapes on board + a friend's racing + yacht--but + finds that + his political antagonist + is one of the party!! + + Alone by the shore + he picks up + a bottle + + In it is + a complaint + about his office!! + + Joy! upon his native stubble + + No! who is this making Political Speech? + + His Country House gets too hot for him So + + he returns to Town disgusted. + + Henry Furniss] + + * * * * * + +SOLOMON PELL IN ALL HIS GLORY. + +_A DICKENSIAN DREAM AT PLYMOUTH._ + +"Boy!" cried Mr. SOLOMON PELL, in the tones of a severe Stentor. The +small Boy with the Big Blue Bag responded promptly with a deferential +"Yussir." + +"Listen!" pursued Mr. PELL, with dignity. And he read with emphatic +elocution from some closely-printed columns in the _Times_, +interjecting exclamatory comments from time to time. + +[Illustration] + +"'When we remember the importance of the work daily intrusted to +Solicitors (_Important, indeed!_), and the amount of industry (_Quite +so!_), judgment (_Exactly!_), learning (_I believe you!_), and +integrity (_Why, cert'n'ly!_), it involves, and the responsibility +which is necessarily incurred by them in advising, not only in public +and political matters, but in all the details of private transactions, +the dealings with property, and matters affecting not only the +purses, but the honour and reputation (_Ah!!!_), of the members of the +community (_Well, and pointedly put, Boy!_), and when we remember, +in addition, what a powerful and (on the whole) respected body they +are (_I should think so!_)--a body, too, consisting not merely of a +"fortuitous concourse of atoms" (_I should say not, indeed! Fancy +me being a mere "atom," or fortuitous!_) ("Please, Sir, I _can't_;" +interjected the Boy with the Bag)--each going his own way, and seeking +his own interest, but bound together, as the great bulk of its members +are, and organised by means of this great Society, and of the kindred +societies scattered over the country, and acting in harmony with +it--it seems most surprising (_Surprising? Astounding, Sir!_) that +so little in the way of dignity and reward can be looked forward to +by the Solicitor, however honestly, ably, and conscientiously he may +perform the arduous and responsible duties of his profession.'" + +Mr. PELL here paused, and panted, like one who comes to the surface +after a deep-sea dive. Then he pursued:-- + +"There, Boy! _That_ is from the opening speech of the President of +the Incorporated Law Society at Plymouth! And excellent it is,--though +perhaps a little long-winded. As a mere sentence, a sinuous sequence +of words, a 'breather' in syllables, an exercise in adjectives, +it cuts the record and takes the cake. But look, Boy, at the +sound common-sense of it! Since the famous, if flattering, +remarks--concerning Me!--of my late friend, the ex-Lord-Chancellor, +who said--nay, swore, that 'the country ought to be proud of me,' +I have met with no observations concerning our Profession which so +commend themselves to my judgment." + +"Oh, please Sir, yussir, right you are, Sir!" jerked out the Boy with +the Bag. + +"Right Mr. MELMOTH WALTERS is," corrected Mr. PELL, severely. "I knew +it would come, Boy, and it _has_. Though it has taken time, it has +taken time. Listen yet further, and don't fidget with that Bag! + +"'I contend (_He contends!_) that it is the duty of the State to +provide due recognition of merit in the ranks of a Profession which +has been set apart (_Dedicated, as it were, like a--like a--sort of a +scapegoat--ahem! no, not that, exactly, either, but--a--you know, Boy, +you know!_), and regulated (_Just a leetle too much, perhaps_) by it, +from which so much is expected, and to which so much is confided.' + +"Splendid! My sentiments to a touch! Sir, that Blue Bag is a Temple of +Sacred Secrets, and _should_ be a shrine of Open Honour. (_Must make +a note of that for my next speech at the Forum!_) 'Sir SOLOMON PELL' +would not sound badly, eh, Boy?" + +"Oh, please Sir, yussir--I mean, no, Sir, fur from it, Sir--_fur_ from +it!" + +"And yet the Bar gets all the honours, and most of the emoluments, +whilst the Blue Bag, too often, is sent empty away. Is it just? Is it +judicious? What says once again the Plymouth oracle? + +"'I ask whether it is wise or prudent on the part of the State to +leave unnoticed and disregarded the higher aspirations and ambitions +of a large and useful and powerful class of the community?' + +"No, Sir--a thousand times no! Let our 'higher aspirations' be +considered. _Some_ of us have souls above six-and-eightpence, and +yearnings beyond bills of costs. Let 'em be gratified, Boy!" + +"Oh, please Sir, yussir: let 'em! Immediately--if not sooner, Sir!" + +"_By_ the State--with a capital S! If a soldier may carry a Field +Marshal's _bâton_ in his knapsack, why, _why_ should not a Solicitor +carry a Baronetcy in his Blue Bag?" + +"And Ekker answers, 'Why?' Sir." + +"I beg your pardon, Boy, it is the _Times_, not the _Echo_, which so +answers. The _Times_ says:-- + +"'They (Solicitors) are the guardians of our dearest (yes, our +_dearest_) interests, the confidants of family secrets, the arbiters +in family controversies, and not infrequently the custodians of the +honour and the good name of their clients.' + +"Quite so. Why, Boy, did we let out the Secrets of the Blue Bag, the +contents of Old Nick's Sack, which that 'stupid old snuff-colour'd son +of a gun,' Saint Medard 'cut into slits on the Red Sea shore' would be +_nothing_ to 'em!" + +"Nothink at all, Sir; nothink, wotsomedever!" + +"No matter--a time will come, Boy! In Mr. WILLIAM MELMOTH WALTERS's +speech I see the dawn of it. + +"'The Profession, it is true, does not receive in any great measure +those official dignities and rewards which the President claims on +its behalf, nor are we quite confident that, if it did, the fact would +increase the confidence or the respect of its clients.' + +"Well, the _Times_ may not be 'quite confident.' _I_ am! And so would +the clients be, I'm sure. Remove that Blue Bag, Boy! Wonder what _Mr. +Pickwick's_ opinion of Mr. WALTERS's speech would have been, and that +of the _Wellers_, father and son! [_Sings._ + + "I'll place it in the hand of my Solicitors; + I'll have this thing put right. + We _may_ make money, + But--isn't it funny!-- + Few 'dignities' Solicitors delight!" + + [_Left considering it._ + + * * * * * + +FROM DARKEST AFRICA. + + Mrs. SHELDON is back from her travels abroad. + Were she only a man, we should hail her as manly! + As it is, there are some who, in wishing to laud, + Are accustomed to call her the feminine STANLEY. + But now this adventurous, much-daring she + Through such perils has gone, and so gallantly held on, + In time that's to come Mr. STANLEY may be + Merely known to us all as the male Mrs. SHELDON! + + * * * * * + +MOTTO FOR THE OPPONENTS OF CAPITAL PUNISHMENT.--No noose is good news! +(But what will grim Lord GRIMTHORPE say?) + + * * * * * + +The Cheapest Insurance Office must be the _Fee-nix_. + + * * * * * + +STORICULES. + +II.--THE BACK-VIEW. + +The boy had gone out to get change. + +[Illustration] + +I was waiting in the studio, listening to the photographer. He was in +quite a small way of business, and no one would have expected him to +have any change for anything. I was sitting on a rustic stile, with a +Greek temple and some wilted Spiræas in the background. He was in the +dark room, busy, splashing liquids about, and reminiscent. I still +believe that he thought the time of waiting would seem shorter +to me if he talked. The whole place seemed to suggest financial +difficulties, and smelt of chemicals. + +"You remember the Punyer case?" he asked. His voice sounded thin and +far-off through the closed door of the dark room. + +I did. PUNYER had been a cashier, and had absconded with rather more +than the usual amount. + +"Well, I had some dealings with PUNYER. As a cashier he was certainly +dishonest, but as a man he was absolutely reliable, and nothing +would induce him to break his word. I know that to be a fact from my +personal experience of the man; indeed, it was through me that he was +identified--or, rather, through one of my photographs." + +"Really?" + +"Yes. On the day that he absconded, a four-wheeler drove up to this +house. The driver got off, and sent a message up to the studio that +a gentleman in a cab outside wished to speak to me. So, of course, I +went out. Inside the cab I found a man wearing a thick green veil. He +explained to me that his face had been injured in a railway accident, +and that he could not allow it to be seen by any one. He wanted me to +photograph the back of his head. He knew that the request was unusual. +'But,' he said, pathetically, 'my few friends have got to know the +back of my head, just as they know the faces of others who are--who +are less unfortunate than myself. The doctors tell me that I have not +long to live, and my friends are eager to have some slight memento of +me.' I was much moved, and I agreed to photograph him at once." + +"The man was PUNYER?" + +"Of course. The photograph of the back of his head turned out +admirably--clear and full of character." + +"But why did he get photographed at all?" + +"You shall hear; it all came out afterwards. I have already told +you that PUNYER, in his private capacity, was a man of his word. It +appears that he was engaged to a Miss MIRANDA BUDE. Indeed, it was to +her that I was to send the photographs when they were finished. He +had promised her that he would have his photograph taken for her on +his birthday; and the day on which he absconded happened to be his +birthday. He could not break his promise. What was he to do? At first +he disguised himself as far as he could; he shaved off his luxurious +beard and moustache; he had his long fair hair closely cropped +and stained black. But there was on his face one certain mark of +identification which he could not alter nor remove. It was a slight +scar, extending diagonally across his forehead; when he was a child +he once fell into the fender, and the mark had remained ever since. +At last the bright idea occurred to him that he might have the back +of his head photographed instead of his face, and so keep his promise +to MIRANDA. It was really a brilliant idea. For there was absolutely +nothing in the view of the back of his head by which he _could_ be +identified." + +"But you told me just now that he actually _was_ identified by your +photograph." + +"So he was;--I was just going to explain. I was sitting in my studio +one day, touching up the photographs of the back-view of PUNYER, +when in came a detective from Scotland Yard. From his appearance, a +detective was the last thing on earth that you would have taken him to +be." + +"They generally say that in the detective stories," I said, +meditatively. + +"If you think I'm making this up--" + +"No, no,--not at all. Go on." + +"Well, he told me his business, and I at once showed him one of the +photographs, telling him under what circumstances they were taken. He +examined it carefully. 'Ah!' he said, 'if I only could prove that this +was PUNYER, I should be able to complete my case, and my advancement +would be certain. In my own mind I am convinced of it, but at present +I cannot prove it. PUNYER had a scar on his face. It was like his +devilish cunning to have only the back of his head photographed!' He +was just leaving, when suddenly a new idea seemed to flash across him. +He seized the photograph, and rushed across to the mirror. You know +that if anything is written backwards, you can read it by holding it +up to a looking-glass. So, of course, the detective, by holding up +the photograph of the back-view, saw the full-face reflected. The scar +showed just above the green veil, and consequently--" + +At this point the boy returned with my change. The photographer had +locked himself into the dark room, and I could not get at him; the law +gives a man no redress under such circumstances, and so I came away. + +I might have got over the story, perhaps; but my change, I found +afterwards, was sixpence short, and that is not so easy to forgive. + + * * * * * + +"ENTERTAINMENT." + + ["People of this high class (Royal Highnesses, &c.) are said + to 'entertain' visitors, but that is an inversion of the + actual fact; their object is to be entertained. And quite + right too. Nothing can surely be more delightful than to have + one's house full of friends at will, and then be able to turn + them out at a moment's notice (as a life-boat gets rid of + superfluous water) by that simple mechanism of a Chamberlain. + When the Social System attains its acmé, all of us will have a + Chamberlain and be entertained."--JAMES PAYN.] + +_Host_ (_concerning Guest_):-- + + The twenty-first day, and no signs of a budge!-- + And it isn't for want of "suggestion." + I begin to suspect Hospitality's fudge, + Meaning--mutually ruined digestion! + He _is_ such a bore, and his wife is _so_ fat, + And as fond of her bed as a dormouse. + My girls say--in confidence--_she_ is a cat; + I'm sure he's a prig and a poor-mouse. + I fancied he'd "influence," which he might use + For DICK, our third son, who's a duffer. + It doesn't come off, and I really refuse + In DICK's interests longer to suffer. + PAYN's right, and a Chamberlain would be a boon. + Ah! I know so precisely what PAYN meant. + What! Be entertained--by one's guests? I'd as soon + From a locust-swarm seek--Entertainment! + +_Guest_ (_concerning Host_):-- + + Hah! He wants to get rid of us, currish old cub! + But, although it's by no means amusing, + My only alternative now is the Club. + Confound Mrs. JONES for refusing + McMUNGO's "invite" into Scotland. She thought + This crib was as swell, and more cosy. + She hoped, too, to meet that young MAGNUS MCNAUGHT, + Who once seemed so sweet on our ROSIE. + We're bored to extinction, and BLOGGS is a "foots"; + If we're late down to breakfast, he snorts at us. + He worries our lives out with pic-nics and shoots, + And will flourish his Clarets and Ports at us. + My wife likes her ease and her breakfast in bed; + I hate cellar-swagger and scurry. + Entertainment indeed! We're as lumpish as lead + When we're not on the whirl or the worry. + But turn out to-morrow, my BLOGGS? No, not me, + Though I know what your "little hints" signify. + Your "dear DICK" forsooth! Such a noodle as he + The title of "duffer" would dignify + You've given up hope about him, and so now + You would have us "make room." Not precisely! + Till the Tenth, when we're due at Dunclacket, somehow + "The Doldrums" will do pretty nicely. + PAYN's right. With "high rank and no manners," a man + His guests may "evict" at his pleasure; + But BLOGGS--till he hits on some "Chamberlain" plan-- + Must leave 'em to flit at their leisure. + I made up my mind when I came to this place; + For a month, at the least, to remain meant. + Though now my amusement at BLOGGS's wry face + Is nearly my sole "Entertainment." + + * * * * * + +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, Vol. +101, September 5, 1891, by Various + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 13538 *** |