Part 2

Of course the descendants of BALBUS, who "_murum aedificavit" in_ our old Latin Grammar--(Are BALBUS and CAIUS still at it in the Grammars of the present day?)--could not leave La Bourboule alone, and villas have been springing up in every direction. Shops, too. Already one side of a Boulevard has been commenced, represented by half-a-dozen superior shops, one of which, it is needless to say, is a sweet-stuff emporium, and another a Tabac. Then they've a Hotel de Ville at La Bourboule. In our time there was only a solitary Gendarme, in full cocked-hat and sword, who, as an official, was a failure, but, as a playmate of the children, and a friend of the bonnes, was a decided success. He looked well, and inspired the stranger on his arrival. But the feeling of awe soon wore off. Perhaps he, also, was a _baigneur_. Invalid Gendarmes might be usefully employed in this manner, their imposing appearance at various watering-places would inspire confidence, while they might be benefiting their physique. Policemen could be also effectively used in this way. "Recruiting Sergents-de-ville" they might be called, engaged in recruiting their own health.

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A storm of rain and wind swept us out of La Bourboule--we subsequently heard that there was snow at Mont Dore--and drove us post-haste back to Royat warmth--comparative warmth, that is, for they were having two or three cold, rainy, and gusty days at Royat, too, preceding the day fixed for the Eclipse. But such weather is bearable at Royat, if you have once experienced it at La Bourboule. The valley of Royat is fairly high up, and well sheltered; but as to the situation of La Bourboule and Mont Dore, one may say, reversing the quotation, "And in the highest heights a higher still!" "Only not, by any means still," says PULLER, who knows the country, and whom no inducement will lead away from Royat.

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I have mapped out a short tour by way of return from Royat, which is at the disposition of anyone who is preparing to make himself a _baigneur_ and a _titulaire_ next season.

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My _itineraire_ is this: London to Paris, taking care to travel by the _Empress_ from Dover to Calais. Inquire beforehand at the L. C. and D. Station. Victoria. Go by the A.M. Dine in Paris at 8.30. In a forthcoming little work I contemplate benefiting the travelling public generally with a few useful details, of which these are only hints. Paris next morning, to Clermont-Ferrand, for Royat. At Royat, I should naturally recommend the Hotel I know best. This is the Continental. It may change hands next year; if it changes hands, it changes heads at the same time, and my advice may or may not be useful.

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Stay at Royat for cure; visit--as excursions easily done in a day, when you're in fettle--La Bourboule and Mont Dore. For all information, ask the most civil of men, and the most obliging, the agent, who has an office in a line with the few shops situated on the upper terrace of the Parc. He will tell you everything--and be delighted to do it.

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By the way, when once you've settled your tour, take my advice, and visit Messrs. COOK, of Ludgate Circus. Provide yourself with all your tickets beforehand. It will save you a heap of trouble afterwards. Too many Cooks can't spoil your journey, as you will take them on the "play or pay" system, and it binds you to nothing, except, in case of not using them, a slight discount; whereas, on the other hand, it helps the person who is at all "infirm of purpose" to make up his mind, and keeps him to his original plan, which any experienced traveller will agree with me in saying, is, nine times out of ten, the wisest and best course to pursue. Of this more anon in my forthcoming _parvum opus_ on this and cognate subjects.

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Royat (if you are a _baigneur_, recommended here by your Doctor) is an easy place to get to, and to get away from. My friend SKURRIE, who, immediately he has arrived at any place, passes all his time there in consulting guide-books, maps, _Bradshaws_, COOK'S tourist books, and local _indicateurs_, with a view to see how he can best get away, comes to me with a paper full of closely-written details, and says, "Here's my plan:--Royat, Lyon (why do we put an 's' on to it, and make it 'Lyons?' it would be as sensible for the French to call Liverpool 'Liverpools,' or Manchester 'Manchesters.' And why can't the French call London 'London,' instead of 'Londres?')--then Aix-les-Bains (for a _massage_, and an excursion or two) ... then Geneva. This is, if you've got time to spare. If not, in a week you can make a really refreshing tour by pushing on from Lyon to Geneva, to Bale, to Heidelberg, to Mainz, down the Rhine to Cologne, then Antwerp, Flushing, Queenborough. This will complete your week, and you will return to England with a store of variety to last you a year."

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VALUABLE MEM. FOR A CERTAIN ARCHITECT IN HIS NEXT BUILDING OPERATION.--"To construct a much-more-_Exiter_ Theatre than the one recently destroyed by fire."

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OUR ADVERTISERS.

THEATRICAL AND RE-ASSURING.

THE ROYAL UNINFLAMMABLE THEATRE.--The sole Lessee and Manager begs to inform his patrons, the public, that he has left no stone unturned to render it by a long way.

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THE SAFEST THEATRE IN THE TWO HEMISPHERES. The mere perusal of the advertisements appearing in the daily press, furnishing the intending audience with a complete handbook of escape in the event of any sudden catastrophe, must, he feels, afford them.

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REAL PLEASURE, which, owing to the precautionary measures he has taken for their protection, they may genuinely experience when securing their places for a performance in the unique fireproof auditorium.

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THE ROYAL UNINFLAMMABLE THEATRE EXITS.--A hop, skip and a jump will take any member of the audience from any part of the house directly into the street outside in five seconds.

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THE ROYAL UNINFLAMMABLE THEATRE has all its doors taken off their hinges the moment the performance commences.

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THE ROYAL UNINFLAMMABLE THEATRE possesses concrete Stalls.

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THE ROYAL UNINFLAMMABLE THEATRE, has its private boxes constructed with perforated shower-bath ceilings that drench the occupants without ceasing the entire evening.

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THE ROYAL UNINFLAMMABLE THEATRE.--An "Apprehensive Playgoer" writes:--"We were in one continual downpour from the rising of the Curtain to its fall; and though we are all still suffering from rheumatism, our party was enabled, with the aid of umbrellas and waterproofs, to enjoy the evening's entertainment with a sense of security that was as novel as it was refreshing."

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THE ROYAL UNINFLAMMABLE THEATRE.--The Management provides everyone paying at the doors with a Fire-Escape, that can be left outside, and a Life Assurance Policy, available for the duration of the evening's entertainment.

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THE ROYAL UNINFLAMMABLE THEATRE has, in every gangway, a steam fire-engine served by a fully-equipped complement of members of the London Fire Brigade, who inspire the audience with confidence by, from time to time, playing on portions of them with a five-inch hose.

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THE ROYAL UNINFLAMMABLE THEATRE.--People recommended a cold _douche_ by their medical adviser, cannot do better than secure a front seat in the upper boxes.

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THE ROYAL UNINFLAMMABLE THEATRE is provided with cast-iron scenery, and has, as its Stage Manager, a retired Fire-King.

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THE ROYAL UNINFLAMMABLE THEATRE is surrounded by a network of balconies, affording access, by iron staircases, to the roofs of all the adjacent houses in the neighbourhood.

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THE ROYAL UNINFLAMMABLE THEATRE has in effect no walls, and is practically all "Exit."

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THE ROYAL UNINFLAMMABLE THEATRE can be virtually emptied before a checktaker could say "Jack Robinson!"

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THE ROYAL UNINFLAMMABLE THEATRE.--A "NERVOUS FIRST-NIGHTER" writes: "Being seized the other evening in the middle of the front row of the stalls with a purely private and personal, but uncontrollable panic, I rushed from my place, and made with all the haste I could command for the street. Though, in my hurry I found it necessary to have a couple of vigorous fights of several rounds each with two box-keepers in succession, which resulted in my being eventually removed from the house, struggling with three policemen, six refreshment-stall-keepers, and nine firemen, it only took me twenty-seven minutes and a half from the time I started from my place inside till I found myself deposited in the midst of a jeering crowd on the steps of the principal entrance."

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THE ROYAL UNINFLAMMABLE THEATRE will set up chronic lumbago in the Dress Circle.

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THE ROYAL UNINFLAMMABLE THEATRE is the dampest Public Lounge in Europe.

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THE ROYAL UNINFLAMMABLE THEATRE may be visited freely by pleasure-seekers, in whom, as Members of Burial Clubs, their families take a lively interest.

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REAL PLEASURE, to be experienced nightly by those who pay a visit to

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THE ROYAL UNINFLAMMABLE THEATRE, affording the only recognised Incombustible Entertainment on record.

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WANTED, A THESEUS;

_Or, The Betting Centaurs of the Race-Course and the Cinder-Path._

HALF-man, half-horse! A fitting blend indeed To type the monster of a modern breed, The mongrel thing, half Houyhnhnm to the view, But fouler than the Swiftian Yahoo, Who makes the race-course rascaldom's resort, And shames the manliest scenes of British Sport.

Sport? The Cad-Centaur hath as little sense Of the fine joy to which he makes pretence, The English glorying in a fair-fought fight, A well-run race, a show of speed or sleight, As of the love that males of British breed Moves in the presence of a gallant steed. No Sportsman's fervour his; he never thrills To the contagious sentiment that fills The solid Saxon when, with thundering stride, _Ormonde_ and _Minting_ struggle side by side; When Cam and Isis prow to prow contend; When GEORGE and CUMMING strain from end to end Of the long cinder-path in panting speed; When wheelmen swift alternate lag and lead; When white-plumed yachts spread emulative wings To the salt wind that through the cordage sings; When Notts and Surrey fight for pride of place, Or the ring cheers the "many-centuried" GRACE. Bound by his betting-book, the cynic churl-- With coarse-gemmed hands and greasy frontal curl, When fortune smiles, or frowsy when she frowns As wolfish waifs that haunt the slums of towns-- Is brute all through and ever; blatant, base, "Rough" in his speech, and rascal in his face; A radiant rowdy now when some base stroke Of juggling skill has flushed him; now "stone-broke," Black-hearted, beetle-browed, true gaolbird type, Reeling and reeking, ever ruffian-ripe For any coward act of ruthless greed That craft may scheme, or violence may speed.

Curse of the race-course and the cinder-path! Roughdom no dirtier, darker danger hath,-- Roughdom, that gulf of guilt with peril rife, That lurks beneath our glittering civic life, Like fires beneath the smiling southern wave, Which, given volcanic vent, make earth a grave And sea a sepulchre. Top bold it grows In the neglect of its appointed foes, The modern Fenris-wolf whose ravening maw Needs muzzling with the Gleipner-chain of Law. EURYTUS at the banquet gorged with glee; "Most savage of the savage Centaurs," he, As OVID sings. PIRITHOUS, lulled to trust, Forgot the secret strength the lurking lust, Until wine-freed and fury-fired they broke, From sleek civility's too slender yoke; Then tables overset, and feast disturbed, Destructiveness unleashed, and wrath uncurbed, "The appearance of a captured city," lent To the late scene of concord and content; Then disappointed craft and thwarted greed, Broke law's frail barriers like a trampled reed, And the tumultuous storm of wild desire, Found vent in rioting force and ravening fire.

Is there no moral in the classic tale? Let vigilance but sleep and vigour fail, Authority of prescience be bereft, And, like HIPPODAMIA, Law is left To battling, fierce brute forces, prone to blood, Civilisation's coarser Centaur-brood. Of old the heroes conquered. At the stroke Of angered THESEUS' club of knotted oak, The Centaurs feared and fled toward the sea, Pursued by the triumphant Lapithae, Law's Lapithae lay prone in our late fray. Do we not need a THESEUS then to-day?

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NOT A "DEUS EX MACHINA."

SOME philosophers are very anxious to demonstrate that man is a mere Automaton. A man, however, can at any rate be regulated, and, at need, "run in," which it seems that the Automatic Cigarette and Sweetmeat Machines now so much in vogue cannot. Naughty little boys are convicted of beguiling them of Butter Scotch by means of discs of card and base metal, instead of coins of the realm. On the other hand the Automata are charged with absorbing the coppers of honest would-be purchasers without rendering up the proper portion of Toffee or Tobacco. Machines which are at once dishonest themselves and the cause of dishonesty in others can hardly be looked upon as an improvement upon living vendors, who if they have little conscience to appeal to, have at least persons to be punished.

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HYGIENIC.

No; that sickly-looking child that you notice entering the Board School is not, as you imagine, "pining for the fresh air of the country." He is recovering from an acute attack of scarlet fever, and is described by his fond parent as "peeling wonderful."

"Why does the medical man who attends the case,"--you ask--"not give instant notice to the Local Sanitary Authority, the Parish Doctor, the School Board Officials, and the nearest Fever Hospital?" Because self-preservation (or preserving a case for oneself) is the first law of nature, and also because in London neither the registration nor the isolation of infectious disease is considered at all essential.

Of course it is to be regretted that some of the fever patients who were taken the other day first to the West London Hospital in Hammersmith, then to the London Fever Hospital, and afterwards to Stockwell, and who finally--as those institutions were quite full--spent the night in a draughty corridor of the Homerton work-house, should have collapsed owing to exhaustion; but then what an admirable thing it is that there should be so many places for the reception--or rejection--of patients, and that they should be scattered all over the Metropolis!

It is really rather irritating that the laundress, whose services we have had to dispense with owing to five of her children being down with typhus, should call us "selfish" and "finicking," and threaten to summon us to the Police Court for interfering with her business.

Yes, a trip by steamer on the Thames can be confidently recommended to delicate persons in search of health. Wrap the whole face in cotton-wool, which has previously been soaked in some powerful disinfectant. Get the man at the wheel to sprinkle your clothing every ten minutes with the anti-cholera mixture. When passing "Barking Outfall," be particularly careful to go below, and keep your head completely buried in a basin containing a mixture of smelling salts in solution and Eau de Cologne. Beyond a sore throat for a week or two, you will probably--thanks to these precautions--experience no evil results.

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SUBJECT FOR A GRAND HISTORICAL CARTOON.

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ALL IN PLAY.

MY DEAR MR. PUNCH,

I THINK, however pleased you may look in your stall while listening to the charming music of Mr. CELLIER in _The Sultan of Mocha_, you will agree with me that that gifted gentleman has been most unfortunate in the selection of his _librettos_. _Dorothy_ was certainly feeble, but the revived opera at the Strand is feebler still. I admit that the work is well staged, equally as to scenery, dresses, and _mise-en-scene_, but the plot and the dialogue are unworthy of serious criticism. When the curtain rose upon a capital "set" of the Thames near Greenwich Hospital, when there were a lively chorus and a pretty dance, I imagined I was "in" for what other occupants of the stalls would have called "a real good thing." But the characters had only to talk to cause a sense of depression to envelope me, that nearly moved me to tears. Ponderous allusions to such recent "topics" as Lord CHARLES BERESFORD'S signal from the Royal Yacht at the Naval Review, the ENDACOTT matter and Turkish impecuniosity now and again attracted my attention, and I felt that I would give worlds to slumber as does the hero in the Third Act who appropriately sings himself to sleep. But Mr. CELLIER'S music made a success of _Dorothy_, and it is not impossible that "the movement may be continued" in the _Sultan of Mocha_. Of those who take part in the performance I may single out Mr. CHARLES DANBY as fairly amusing. I do not remember to have seen him before, and it is to be trusted that the applause of a London audience will not cause him to favour a policy of exaggeration. So far he is good--not too good (as Mr. BROUGH was wont to amusingly observe), but just good enough. The voice of Miss VIOLET CAMERON is as strong as ever, but at times I traced a _tremolo_ that might wisely be abandoned. Mr. C. H. KENNEY has good intentions, and no doubt some day will be seen and heard to greater advantage. I was not surprised to learn from the playbill that as the _Sultan_ Mr. ERNEST BIRCH was making "his first appearance." Of the remainder of the cast, Mr. BRACY sang well and acted fairly as "a heart of oak," and the sailors, villagers, and slaves were sufficiently comely to satisfy the requirements of a Strand audience met together to enjoy an _opera bouffe_.

A new _lever de rideau_ added to the programme of the Globe has called attention to the merry moments of _The Doctor_. From the first this piece went wonderfully well--now it goes better than ever. The house is nightly full of patients, who seem willingly to give themselves over to what I may call "the laughter cure and joke treatment."

_Dandy Dick_ has moved from the Court to King William Street, Strand. Mr. CLAYTON, capital as the Dean, and Mrs. JOHN WOOD inimitable, exquisite, everything-superlative as the lady horse-owner. Mr. BISHOP now plays Mr. ARTHUR CECIL'S part in a manner that reduces our regret at the absence of his predecessor to a minimum.

A wonderful piece called _Racing_, by the "Great MACDERMOTT," is being performed at Islington. It is composed of a mixture of Comedy and Tragedy. Both ingredients are equally funny.

Removing my _gibus_, and laying down my programmes and opera-glasses, I again sign myself ONE WHO HAS GONE TO PIECES.

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GARDEN TALK.

_As arranged for the neighbourhood of the Round Pond under existing circumstances._

CAN this be Kensington Gardens, or is it Tophet? This perfume is scarcely suggestive of flowers. How nicely this little girl is burying the dead cat. What a game at hide and seek those boys in white sailor suits are having in that reeking garbage. It is strange, but the morning breeze is laden with _Bacteria_. Why, that is the fifth dust-cart that has emptied its contents here this afternoon. How merrily the dustmen are spreading the refuse over the surface of the grass. The haggard Park-keeper seems to be growing paler and paler every day. I wonder why that entire family of children have broken out into green spots. Who would have thought that the baby that had been brought here for a little fresh air would have turned blue in the perambulator! Who is really responsible for the conversion of an open pleasure-ground into a deadly centre for the dissemination of fever?

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_Mr. Punch._ Ah happy to see you, _mon Chef_! Here's a mess! You'll soon put it all straight, Sir; you couldn't do less. Your people you'll find are entirely to blame For the kettle o'erboiling, the steam and the flame. What is there in fish that in every quarter So leads--in non-natural sense--to hot water? And why should a Billingsgate dame, or a trawler, Or Belgian or British, so oft be a brawler? A Saint once held forth, Sir, the fishes to teach. What a sermon to us, Sir, the fishes might preach! The sea's lavish harvest was certainly sent Man's palate to please, and his hunger content; Not, _not_, my dear _Chef_, as mere strife-stirring spoil His kitchen to slop, and his cooks to embroil. _Verb. sap._--you are sapient, I know, like your Sire-- And--you'll take this strange "kettle of fish" off the fire!

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"MIGHTY POLITE."--Last week Mr. HARRINGTON, Barrister-at-Law (in Ireland), was called to account by Mr. EATON, and threatened with removal from the Court over which that Magistrate presided, for conduct unworthy of a Counsel. Had "the learned gentleman" had the advantage of the influence of another Eton earlier in his career, his manners would doubtless have been less deficient in polish.

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A PLANK OF THE WRONG PLATFORM.--The Plank-bed.

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(NOT AT ALL) BAD HOMBURG.

TRAVEL NOTES, FROM THE DIARY OF TOBY, M.P.

_Thursday._--Homburg emptying and re-filling; but former process decidedly winning race. Change in class of company moreover striking. Natural order of things here reversed. The butterfly disappears and the grub succeeds. Now have come to us young men and maidens from the country. Elderly burgesses, wives and families from Frankfort, Coblentz and more distant Cologne. Prices specially designed for English falling away. Principal hotels humbly proffer pension at ten marks a day, and proprietors are accused of rapacity by their fellow-countrymen.