Chapter 1

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PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI

VOL. 103

AUGUST 13, 1892

LADY GAY'S SELECTIONS.

_Yacht "Ibex," Weymouth._

DEAR MR. PUNCH,

Once again "my foot is on my native heath."--(I don't know where this quotation comes from, but presume the author of it had lost a leg, or he would have placed _his feet_ there--or else he must have had one leg shorter than the other, and so _couldn't_ put both down at once!)--and heartily glad I am to be there--we had a most alarming passage from Jersey, and I thought every moment would be my last--(_for a time_)--but I was cheered and stimulated to endurance by the noble example of my friend and fellow-passenger The MACDOUGAL--Chief of the Clan--who was obtrusively well up to lunch-time!--but I had my revenge then, for he was unable to face the dish of Haggis that I am given to understand every right-minded Scotchman thinks it his duty to eat at least once a day.

However, "I pulled through all right," as Lord ARTHUR would say, and was so delighted with my sailor-like indifference to the "rolling-sea," that I adopted a rolling-walk on landing, which was most impressive, to judge from the staring of the inhabitants of Weymouth!--(I may confess to _you_ that I couldn't help myself; everything was going up and down and sideways, for _hours_ after I landed, and I really think the sea ought to be done away with, or flattened out by some means!--there's a fortune for the man who invents the machine which will do it!)--I should prefer it done away with myself, as then there would be no mackerel-fishing!

I have no personal animosity against the humble but lovely-looking mackerel; but I was weak enough to accept an invitation to go fishing for them, and you may imagine my horror at being "roused out,"--(yachting expression, _very_ significant)--at _three_ in the morning to go and capture them!--or at least to _try_--for as a matter of fact, we didn't get a single one--and my temper was "roused out" before we'd finished, for no well-conducted woman cares to be balked in her efforts to "hook a big fish,"--and all I could catch were a few small "Pollock" and "Pout." By the way, who on earth christens the fish, I wonder?--and why on earth--or rather in sea--are there so many varieties which you must either remember or submit to nave your ignorance jeered at by the practised fisherman, who has probably acquired his information concerning them only the day before?

The English "Bay of Naples" is a wonderful place, and its resemblance to its Italian prototype is admirably sustained through the liberality of the Local Board in encouraging the importation of Italian penny-ice men! I really think this wholesale importation of foreigners is being carried to excess, and has already created a feeling that England is no place for the English! And then the concerts you can hear for nothing!--that is, if you harden your heart when the man comes round with the tin pail!--everyone has a spade or a pail at the seaside--all the latest London successes, from TOSTI to "_Ta-ra-ra_," accompanied by a strong contingent of the Salvation Army Brass Band!--and there is a lot of "brass" about the Army still unaccounted for! What an enervating part of the world this is! One quite realises what "lotus-eating" means, even though there are no lotuses about!--(I wonder if that's the correct plural?--or is it "_Loti_"? which looks like French, only wants "PIERRE" as Christian name. Or if additional "_t_" introduced, it would be "Lotti," suggestive of COLLINS' Ode to _Boom_, &c.; but I am wandering)--and it requires enormous energy to do anything more than loll about and bathe; even on the Island of Portland, where the air is rather more invigorating, I am told there are numbers of people who express a strong disinclination to perform any hard labour whatever, in spite of the fact of a short residence there having been recommended as calculated to improve their general "tone"! I only wish the aforesaid Salvation Army Band would go there on a lengthy visit, as its "tone" leaves much to be desired at present.

I hear that the Brighton Meeting was a great success both in weather and racing; and the present "Horse of the Century," _Buccaneer_, fully maintained his reputation, winning his race in what they call "gallant style," and beating _Lady Rosebery_--not, perhaps, a gallant thing to do, but Buccaneers have always been notoriously rough to the sex!

I am afraid thousands of my readers must be getting impatient for more of my excellent prophecies, but I really cannot run the risk of ruining my health by reading the papers when in the country; and, as patience is an admirable virtue, I feel I am doing my duty in encouraging it as much as possible. So, for yet another cycle of time (poetic, and usefully vague),

I am, Yours, in idleness, LADY GAY.

ODE TO BUCCANEER.

Sing hey for the life of a Convict Bold! Sing ho for his healthy life! Sing hey for his peaceful days when old, Secluded from care and strife!

* * * * *

* * * * *

THE DIARY OF AN EXPLORER À LA RUSSE.

_Introduction._--Delighted to have the opportunity of exploring the Ironice Mountains. Hearing they abound with frozen mud which would be most useful if it could be removed to the plains below without melting. The watercress plant too might be grown on the summit, if it is practicable to take up orchid-forcing houses. Ought to get the Gold Medal of the Geographical Society if I open out this region that will be fraught with such blessings to commerce. So far as I can judge, it will only be necessary to take twenty batteries of Artillery, a dozen squadrons of Cavalry, and (say) sixteen battalions of Infantry. And I think we might as well take a Naturalist.

_A little Later._--Made a good start. Appointed Professor POPOFF to be our Naturalist. He is a little out of practice, but passed the preliminary examination very satisfactorily. Only made one trifling mistake. Said that tea-roses belonged to the cactus family. Fancy they don't, but am not sure. The suggestion that cucumbers were dug out of the ground like potatoes, was only an error of judgment. Anyone might have made it. But although rusty in his science, he is well up in machine-gun drill. He will suit the expedition to a nicety. Artillery, Cavalry, and Infantry in first-rate condition.

_Later still._--Made our first important scientific discovery to-day. Find that you can't grow broad beans on the soil at the base of the Ironice Mountains. At least you may plant them, but they won't grow to any size within the space of half-a-dozen hours. Tried the experiment. To clear the necessary space of ground, had to remove the natives. Did this in gallant style with the assistance of all branches of the Service. The Professor rendered valuable support with his Gatling. Hadn't time to bury the kilted, but said some kind things, when bidding them adieu, to the wounded.

_Further on._--Most anxious to discover whether canaries sing half-way up the Ironice Mountains. Had some little trouble in establishing a footing on the plateau. After eight hours' hard fighting got to the required spot. The natives seem to have no respect for scientific research. Had to remove them in the usual fashion. The Cavalry had to abandon their horses, but the dismounted men were most useful in burning villages. The Professor continued to carry up his Gatling, and used it with the customary result. When we got to the plateau, disappointed to find no canaries. So we could not ascertain whether they would sing at that altitude. However, when we have completed the proposed railway, it will be quite easy to bring up a few of those charming birds, and continue the interesting experiment.

_Later._--After six weeks' hard fighting, have at last got to the summit. Cleared the place of the natives according to the recognised scientific formula. The Infantry had to use their bayonets freely. The Professor again well to the front with his Gatling. He is a wonderful man, and seems to have been accustomed to it all his life. It is almost a pity that he should be so devoted to science. He would have made a first-rate soldier.

_Nearly the Latest._--Sorry that our expedition has not been entirely successful. I am very much afraid that it will be impossible to grow watercresses at this altitude, even with the genial aid of orchid-forcing houses. I do not see how we could get up the necessary materials to the summit, although assisted by proposed railway. Still, when the line is constructed, we might make the attempt. But from a commercial point of view, I do not believe that the experiment would repay the cost.

_Sequel._--Delighted to find that our scientific expedition has one result. I have consulted the Professor, and we are both of the opinion, that from the summit of the Ironice Mountains it is possible to get a splendid bird's-eye view of India.

* * * * *

* * * * *

FORTE SCUTUM SALUS DUCUM.

In St. SWITHIN's forty days Comes the end of voting-frays; Forty extra then arrays Mr. G.

He had hoped for many more, But he cannot even score Forty-four, that fought he for-- Mr. G.

Fortified with fortitude. Rule your motley multitude, And so earn our gratitude Mr. G.!

Oh majority, you know "Gently does it;" therefore go Quite _piano_, Forty--show Mr. G.

Though his forty is not fat, It is fair at least; so that JOHN shall not be taxed for PAT, Mr. G.

Spare him income tax that grieves, Lest he think that he perceives ALI BABA's Forty ---- Mr. G.!

* * * * *

WALKER!--Mr. TOOLE is going into the country, and Mr. GARDEN is to take his place. This sounds like a seasonable change, as Londoners who cannot get away to a Garden, will now have a GARDEN coming to them.

* * * * *

"NO FEES."

(_IN RE PAYNE_ V. _'ENRY HAUTHOR JONES._)

Alas, poor JONES, how sad your fate! The Law's stern coldness comes to freeze Your burning wish to captivate With words you know will always please-- "No fees!"

When "bang goes saxpence" for a page Of poorest paper, where one sees More puffs than programme, then your rage Seems right. One cries, "At least for these No fees!"

If Dr. BRAMWELL,[1] who they say Cures psychological disease, Had known he would have willed away Your PAYNE, like tooth-ache--he would seize "No fees!"

You've _lost_ the case, and now, "that's flat,"[2] Must pay those eminent Q.C.'s Your Bill of Costs! No Play-bill that! You will not find the Law decrees "No fees."

[Footnote 1: Mentioned in _Times_ Leading Article, Aug. 3.]

[Footnote 2: "That's flat." HENRY (AUTHOR SHAKSPEARE) IV., Part I., Act I., Scene 3.]

* * * * *

A TRIO.--Congratulations to Sir WILLIAM CUSINS, who from his known admiration for WAGNER, is generally known as "Cusins German." He was a "King's Scholar," and KING, whoever he was, must have found him a remarkably apt pupil. He has composed a Comic Opera called _Giddy 'Un_. The next Knight is JOSEPH BARNBY, a name suggestive of pure rustic music. The last of the Knights, Sir WALTER PARRATT, has chosen as his device the ancient legend always associated with the head of the PARRATT family, i.e., "Scratch a Poll." This dates from very ancient times, and was an inscription found in a temple of Apollo.

* * * * *

OMINOUS.--Unfortunate name for a piece is _Cigarette_. So suggestive of "paper," and of "ending in smoke." _Absit omen!_

* * * * *

* * * * *

AIDS TO LARCENY.--(_By an "Outside Croaker."_)--I find that since I started off shopping this morning, I have lost my purse, my handkerchief, the keys of all my boxes and drawers, a silver-mounted scent-bottle, my season-ticket, and a pocket-book containing priceless materials for the plot of a three-volumed novel. This comes of riding on the outside of an omnibus with garden-seats.--Conductor, the gentlemanly person who sat just behind me, and who is now proceeding rather quickly up Chancery Lane, seems to have been unable to resist the temptation afforded by my hanging coat-tails, and has walked off with a few unpaid bills which were in the pockets, under a mistaken impression that they were bank-notes. Would you mind explaining to him his mistake?--Would it be possible for the excellent Directors of the London General Omnibus Company and the London Road Car Company, so to board up the open backs of their otherwise delightful garden-seats as to prevent a ride on the top of an omnibus from being a constant series of (generally unwarranted) suspicions of the people seated in one's rear?

* * * * *

AN AFTERNOON SAIL.

SCENE--_A Landing Stage under Margate Pier. Excursionists discovered embarking in two rival sailing-boats, the "Daisy" and the "Buttercup," whose respective Mates are exchanging repartees._

_Mate of the "Daisy"._ This gangway, Marm--(_to a Stout Lady_)--not _that_ one, if you want to _enjoy_ yourself. That one'll take you aboard the "_Buttercup_," Marm!

[_The Stout Lady patronises the "Daisy."_

_Mate of the "Buttercup."_ You may 'ave _that_ little lot! Don't you go overloadin' that 'ere old tub o' yourn, that's all!

_M. of the D._ No fear o' _you_ bein' crowded, anyhow. Folks ha' got more sense!

_M. of the B._ Why, we can outsail _you_ any day. Spoke you off the Tongue light, we did, close in to ye, we were--and back ten minutes _afore_ ye--come! The "Buttercup"'ll answer any way we put her--a'most _speak_ to us, _she_ will!

_M. of the D._ Ah, it's lucky for you she can't _quite_ speak--you'd 'ear some plain langwidge if she did!

_M. of the B._ _Our_ boat ain't never mis-stayed with us, 't all events; ye can't deny that!

_M. of the D._ We don't go out for sailing, _we_ don't--we go out for _pleasure_! (_As the "Daisy," having received her complement of passengers, puts off._) Tralla! we'll resoom this conversation later on; you won't ha' got off afore we're back, _I_ dessay!

[_The_ Mate of the "Buttercup" _is reduced to profanity._

_ON BOARD THE "DAISY," DURING THE TRIP._

_The Stout Lady._ Very 'an'some they fit these yachts up--garding-seats all across the deck, and all the cushings in red plush. It do give you sech a sense of security!

_A Lugubrious Man._ Oh, we shall be all right, so long as this squall that's coming up don't catch us before we're in again. Else we shall take _our_ tea down at the bottom, along with the lobsters!

_A Chirpy Little Man with a red chin-tuft_ (_to a female acquaintance_). Well, how are _you_ feelin', eh?

_The Acquaintance._ Oh, all right, thenks--so long as I keep still. There's more waves than it looked from the Pier.

_The Chirpy Man._ Waves? These ain't on'y ripples. When we're off the Foreland, now, you _may_ talk!

_The Acq._ If it's worse than it is now, I _shan't_.

_The Chirpy Man._ Why, you ain't afraid o' being queer already? I'm reg'lar enjoyin' it, I am. You don't object to me samplin' a cigar? You enjoy the flavour of a smoke more when you're on the water, yer know.

_First Girl._ I can see our lodgings; and there's Ma out on the balcony--see? Let's wave our handkerchiefs to her.

_Second Girl._ Ma, indeed! Did you _ever_ know Ma stir off the sofa after her dinner? I wouldn't make myself ridiklous waving to somebody else's Ma, if _I_ was you!

_First Girl_ (_unconvinced_). I'm sure it _is_ Ma--it's just her figger.

_Second Girl._ You are such an _obstinate_ girl! If it's Ma, what's become of the verander?

_First Girl_ (_conquered by this unanswerable argument_). I forgot we had a _verander_--it's one of those old cats next door!

_The Stout Lady_ (_to the Captain who is steering_). Shall we be out long, Captain?

_The Captain._ I hope not, Marm, because I'm dining at the tabbly dote at the Cliftonville this evenin', and I've got to be home in time to dress.

[_The passengers regard him with increased respect._

_The Mate_ (_familiarly to the Captain_). Yes, dear; you don't want to die in here, _do_ you? (_explanatorily_) "die in"--_dine_--you'll excuse _me_, but the ocean always makes me feel so facetious. Captain, dear, if you'll pardon a common sailor like myself for making the suggestion, I beg to call upon you for a song. (_The Captain obligingly bellows "The Stormy Nore--The Jolly old Nore," to the general satisfaction_). Ah, they didn't know what a canary-bird you _were_, Captain! Here's a lady asking you to drink at her expense.

[_The Captain is prevailed upon to accept a tumbler of "the usual;" the Stout Lady says "Captin, your 'elth!" and pledges him in a whiskey-and-soda._

_First Female Friend_ (_to Second Do. Do._). That's Mrs. EDLING, all over, puttin' herself so forward! Look at her now, 'anding him up two cigars in a paper-bag. I call it sickenin'!

_Second Do. Do._ I'm not surprised. She's a woman that 'ud do anythink for notoriety. I've always noticed _that_ in her.

_Captain_ (_to Mate_). Ease the brails!

_Mate_ (_frivolously, after obeying_). They're feeling better _now_, darlin'! If no one else'll sing a song, I'll give you "_The Midshipmite_."

_The Stout Lady._ I do like the way those two go on together; it's as good as a play. I shall begin laughin' presently; it takes a deal to set me _off_, but when I once _am_ off, I can't stop myself. (_The Mate sings._) A sweet singer _he_ is, too. Lor! it's like goin' for a sail in a Music-'All!

_The Chirpy Man._ Yes, I'm comin' to set down a bit. Not so much motion _'ere_, yer know. No use trying to smoke in this breeze. No, I was on'y yawning. Makes yer sleepy, this see-saw does. Don't _you_ find it so?

_Mate_ (_to Sailor_). Now, WILLIAM, it's your turn--you're goin' to sing us something?

_William_ (_gruffly_). No, I ain't. But there's a gen'lman 'ere as says he'll recite.

[_After some persuasion, a Mild Young Man is induced to step forward on the foredeck, and recite as follows_:--

_The Mild Young Man_ (_balancing himself with some difficulty_). "Pirate, that's what I _was_, Sir. Talk about Captain KIDD-- His cruellest acts were kindness, compared with the deeds _I_ did! Never a pitying pang felt I for youth, sex, age, or rank-- All who fell into my clutches were doomed to pace a protruded plank! Yet the desperate demon of those days is now a Churchwarden mild, Holding the bag at Collections--and all through a golden-haired child!"

[_Here the_ Mate _suppresses a groan, and is understood to remark that he "knows that golden-haired child;" the_ Stout Lady _sighs, and inwardly reflects that you can never go by appearances; the_ Chirpy Man _becomes solemn and attentive._

_The Ex-Pirate_ (_who meanwhile has sighted an East-Indiaman, and given chase_). "Well, soon as we'd overhauled her, our 'Jolly Roger' we flew, We opened our dummy deadlights, and the guns gleamed grinning through. And, panther-like, we were crouching--"

[_Here he attempts to suit the action to the word; the boat heels over--and the Pirate's crouch becomes a sprawl._

I--I _beg_ your pardon.--(_Picking himself up._)

"Under the Indiaman's side; When--a baby-face from her bulwarks, looked down on us open-eyed: I can see him now--with his fluttering curls, and his cheeks so chubby and round, Which a cherub might have been proud of, in snowiest linen bound! Then--he hailed us, in infant accents, so innocent, fresh, and blithe-- That our nest of human snakes was stirred to a conscience-stricken writhe! (_In soft falsetto, as Child_). Dear Pirates, I _am_ so sorry--I _did_ want to see you so. I'm afraid you'll be disappointed--but you mustn't come _near_, you know! I wish I could ask you on board to tea, for I feel so down in the dumps, But I _can't_ invite you--for, if you came, you'd be certain to catch my Mumps! I've given it all of the passengers, and the Captain, and Mate, and Crew, And it would be a _dreadful_ pity if _you_ were to catch it too!"

[_Pause. The Chirpy Man hides his face._

We looked at each other; our utterance choked by irrepressible lumps, Though we feared neither man nor devil--we all had a _horror_ of Mumps! And, but for this Cherub's candour, ere many mere days had sped--

[_Here the_ Pirate _is stopped by uncontrollable emotion, and his audience, from the Captain downwards, express sympathy._

_The Reciter_ (_huskily, after wiping his eyes_). I'm very sorry--it's foolish, I know, but I always _do_ break down just here. I--I think I can go on now.

"Had sped, Each buccaneer would have kept his bunk, with a bandage about his head!"

[_Here a fresh diversion is effected by_ The Chirpy Man, _who suddenly achieves unpopularity by becoming aggressively ill, and causing a general stampede from his neighbourhood._

_The Reciter_-- "We wouldn't have boarded her, after _that_, for all the treasure on earth, So we sailed away--to the sweet salute of a peal of childish mirth!"

_The Chirpy Man_ (_resuming his seat, much relieved, and almost as chirpy as ever, to his neighbours, confidentially_). I'm all right agen now. It was takin' a glass o' stout on top of black currant pudden _done_ it, yer know!

[_This piece of information is coldly received, which evidently both surprises and pains him; the Pirate brings his experiences to an end by relating how he realised his effects, and retired from business on a modest competence, and the "Daisy" regains the Pier._

* * * * *

"WITH THE HONOURS OF WAR."