Part 1

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Transcriber's note:

Text enclosed by underscores is in italics (_italics_).

[=O] and [=o] represent O and o with macron.

PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI

VOL. 108

FEBRUARY 2, 1895

Edited by Sir Francis Burnand

TALL TALES OF SPORT AND ADVENTURE.

(_By Mr. Punch's own Short Story-teller._)

I.--THE PINK HIPPOPOTAMUS. (CONTINUED.)

On the opposite side of the room, with his brave old back against the wall, stood my dear father, his arms tightly bound to his sides, and a cummerbund tied firmly over that mouth which had never, save in moments of thoughtless, but pardonable anger, spoken any but words of kindness to his son. In front of him was couched a huge man-eating tiger--I recognised his hominivorous propensities at once by the peculiar striping of his left shoulder, an infallible sign to a sportsman's eye--licking his chops in joyous anticipation of the unresisting feast which Providence had thus thrown in his way. I could see the great red tongue darting out now on one side of his mouth, now on the other, while his immense tail lashed the floor in dazzling curves. This spectacle would have been sufficient to shake the nerves of an ordinarily courageous man--but this was not all. On one side of the gigantic cat lay coiled an immense python, of the deadliest kind, and on the other one of the tallest and most powerful elephants I have ever seen was squatting on its haunches, blinking at my poor father with its wicked little eyes. I knew at once what had happened. My father's only weakness was a fondness amounting to mania for conjuring tricks of all kinds. The latest mail had brought us some English papers containing descriptions of the Cabinet Trick of the DAVENPORT Brothers, who were at that time (this may help to fix the date, a point on which I have never cared to trouble myself) astounding all London by their dexterity in untying themselves from ropes lashed securely round them. As soon as he had read the accounts my father determined that he would practise the trick, and for a week past he had spent hours in our little room with coils of rope wound round every part of his body in the effort, which had hitherto proved vain, to release himself. Every day the heroic old fellow, still panting from his intolerable exertions, had murmured "I am all but undone," but never--if the expression may be pardoned--had he been so near his utter undoing as he was at this awful moment. Of course I knew what had happened. The dastardly Chamberlain, whose discomfiture I have already narrated, must have got wind of my father's daily practice, and, taking advantage of his state of bondage, must have introduced into our room its present horrible occupants. The room was not a large one, and the stairs leading to it were steep, and I have never yet been able to explain to myself satisfactorily by what masterpiece of diabolical ingenuity the scoundrel was able to carry out his stratagem.

However, this was no moment for discovering explanations. The situation required instant action. Fortunately, my father's eyes were unbandaged, and for the space of half-an-hour, as it afterwards turned out, he had been able to control his zoological invaders by the mere magnetism of his unwavering glance. One wink, however, was bound to prove fatal, and I saw from the beads of perspiration standing upon the old man's rugged forehead that he must be very near the limit of his power of keeping both eyes open. If a drop of perspiration should happen to roll into one of his eyes there could be, I knew, but one end to the business.

As good luck would have it, the animals had not noticed my entrance. I immediately decided what to do. Addressing my father silently in the deaf and dumb language, of which I am a master, I adjured him to stand firm for another moment or two. I could see from the expression of trustful thankfulness, which stealing over his face, robbed it of every vestige of anxiety, that he had understood my appeal. Then creeping cautiously to a cupboard, I opened it without the slightest noise and found, as I expected, a small coil of rope and a dish of Sallûns, a very tasty kind of native cake. Taking two of these, I tied one to each end of the rope, and threw it deftly so that one cake dropped under the elephant's trunk, while the other, by a stroke of good fortune, fell right into the wide open jaws of the python. The slack, as I intended, alighted gently in a running noose round the tiger's throat. What I anticipated happened. The snake, without troubling itself to discover whence the gift had come, swallowed the Sallûn with which fate had so unexpectedly provided it. In doing so it pulled the dainty at the other end slightly away from the mammoth, who, seeing it moving from him, lost no time in seizing it with his trunk and placing it, as is the wont of these animals, in his mouth. The rope was immediately pulled taut, and began to choke the tiger. His roars were awful but unavailing. Neither elephant nor python would release his hold, and in just seventy-four seconds--I took the time by my stop-watch--the beautiful striped brute was a corpse. This, however, was not all. So hard did the two living beasts struggle in their fearful tug of war that the tiger's head gradually became detached from his body and rolled away to my immoveable father's feet. What would be the result of the contest? The agony of watching was frightful. In my suspense I tried to breathe a prayer, but at the time all I could remember was the fifth proposition of the first book of Euclid, which I repeated twice over without a single mistake. Meanwhile, the two combatants, as the Sallûns went further and further down their throats and into their stomachs, approached closer and closer to one another. At last only a yard, then a foot, then six inches, then an inch separated them, until at last--Great heaven! my hair, even as I write, stands on end with unutterable horror--I saw the python open its enormous jaws to their fullest extent and swallow, yes, literally swallow the trunk, the tusks, and the vast head of the elephant. Slowly the immense pachyderm disappeared. I heard his great bones crack and shiver as inch after inch of him was remorselessly engulfed until, after three minutes and fourteen seconds, all that visibly remained of him was a little tail, which for a space waggled feebly out of the snake's mouth. Then this, too, was still. Another gulp and it was gone, and all was over.

To dispatch the python in its distended condition was the work of a moment. I at once released the old man who had been the delighted spectator of my successful cunning. His joy, as may be imagined, was great, but his pride in his son was even greater than his joy. I exacted from him a promise (which, I regret to say, he broke only a few days afterwards) never again to practise the Cabinet Trick. Then, having rung the bell and ordered my servant to carry away the remains of the three beasts, I proceeded to make my preparations for starting without delay in quest of the Pink Hippopotamus.

(_To be continued._)

* * * * *

A REVISED CODE.

["The Ladies' Football Club have been defeated--we make haste to add by the weather. They are said to have shown of late a disinclination, with which it is easy to sympathise, to practice in the cold, to say nothing of the mud.... A wit has suggested that football matches should be settled "by arbitration."--_Daily Graphic._]

RULES OF THE L. F. C.

1. Only the Association game shall be permitted, with the following modifications.

2. Matches shall under no circumstances be played between the months of September and May.

3. The sides shall consist of any number of young ladies (not "new"), good-looking, and well-dressed, to be captained by a good hostess.

4. These are not to run, walk, or scuffle about with, after, or away from, any ball whatever, nor to tumble about under any pretence, nor to perform any evolution which may be calculated to disarrange their toilet.

5. The play shall be conducted by the umpires, who are to be of the male sex.

6. There shall be eleven umpires on each side.

7. In all cases where possible, the match shall be settled without resorting to brute force, or needless waste of time and breath, by appealing immediately before "kick-off" to the arbitration of the referee.

8. The referee shall be the most intelligent and elderly foreign count whose services are obtainable, or, failing that, the least athletic cabinet minister or archbishop in the neighbourhood.

9. The goals shall consist of two large marquees, in which the respective captains, assisted by the other lady-members, shall preside over afternoon tea and ices.

10. In the event of the ball travelling anywhere near the goals, or in any way endangering the tea-things, the referee shall at once stop all further play.

11. It shall be permissible, and, indeed, recommended, that any, or all, the umpires shall leave the football alone at any stage of the game, and attend to the lady-players, and no umpire shall be ruled "off-side" for so doing.

12. No cry of "hands" or other invidious comment shall be raised when any umpire is caught asking any lady-player for her hand, or else what would be the blessed good of the club's existence?

13. As many "corners" as possible shall be allowed. These are to be in shady parts of the field or in the marquees, and are to be used solely for flirtation.

14. A "free kick" shall be given to any umpire who fools about after the ball, when he ought to be in the marquee.

15. If there be insufficient space, the game may be omitted entirely, and tea given in the nearest and best-laid-out private gardens, where there are shrubberies and summer-houses; or the match may be converted, in the event of doubtful weather, into a dance.

16. No match shall be declared "off" after the banns have been read.

* * * * *

* * * * *

THE INTERESTING INVALID.

_An Alice-in-Wonderlandish Sea-Dream._

["An inquiry into the circumstances under which the cultivation and storage of oysters and other shell-fish around our coast are carried out, which it is stated Mr. BRYCE is about to institute, will serve a useful purpose, especially in the case of 'other shell-fish,'"--_Daily Chronicle._]

'Twas the voice of the Lobster, I heard him declare, "Doctors frighten our Dandos, and that isn't fair. 'Inquiry on Shell-fish'? Oh! blow Mr. BRYCE! You will soon be all right if you take _my_ advice!"

"Well, I hope so, I'm sure," said the Walrus to the Carpenter.

"Or else what is to become of our pleasant little picnics on the sea-shore?" said the Carpenter to the Walrus.

The Walrus and the Carpenter Were hovering round the bed; They wept like anything to see Each Oyster hang his head; "If they go on like this," they cried, "They'll very soon be dead!"

"Drat 'em!" grumbled Nurse Crab. "They've been taking a _drain_ too much, I feel _sewer_."

"You're another, _Mrs. Gamp_," murmured a Native, lifting his head limply from his brown-sand bolster, and dropping it back again with a disconsolate dab.

"If you make bad puns to 'em in their present low state I won't answer for the consequences," said Dr. Lobster, pulling Nurse Crab's shelly apron in professional remonstrance.

Nurse Crab squared her claws like Amazonian elbows, and rolled her protuberant eyes scornfully.

"Feel their pulses," suggested the Carpenter.

"They haven't got any," snapped Dr. Lobster. "Besides my claws are not suited for pulse-feeling."

"Make 'em put their tongues out," hinted the Walrus.

"Tongues?" sneered Dr. Lobster, derisively. "Don't you know that, like CHARLES READE'S nigger, oysters are 'darned anomalies,'--

'Because they have beards without any chin, And get out of bed to be tucked in.'"

"Old riddles are more painful than bad puns," protested the bed-ridden bivalve. "Tucked in, indeed. Well, _I_ shall never get out of bed again, that's one thing," he continued, with a spitefully triumphant look at the Walrus and the Carpenter.

"Oh, _don't_ say that!" said the Carpenter, tearfully.

The Artful Oyster looked at him, But no word more he said; The Artful Oyster winked his eye, And shook his fevered head; As who should say "'Tis not for _you_, I'll leave the oyster-bed."

"_Silence_ in the sick-room, or I'll turn you all out of it," snapped Dr. Lobster, making his claws click like infuriated castanets in the Walrus's ears.

As a duck in a thunderstorm, quite thunder-struck, Each sixpenny bivalve looks "down on his luck." Fancy six bob a dozen! You _ought_ to be nice, You dear little darlings, _most_ dear--at the price! What _have_ you been doing to make yourself sick Like a lot of slum-dwellers? Come, answer me quick!

"'Spect they're shamming," said Nurse Crab, crabbily.

"I'd like to poison the lot of you!" muttered the irascible invalid.

"Just what you've been trying to do, you murderous mossels!" retorted Nurse Crab.

"_Mussels?_ No! Come now! we're not as bad as _they_ are," protested the better-class bivalve, indignantly. "_Mussels_, indeed! Mussels are low things, cheap and nasty shams, sold by costers at a penny a plateful, and eaten by the ravenous rabble with black pepper _and their fingers_! Eugh!" The superior mollusk's soul-shaking, upper-class, high-toned shudder shook it into a sharp attack of syncope, from which it was with difficulty that Dr. Lobster's ministrations rallied it.

"Call yourself a _nurse_?" said the Doctor to Mrs. Crab. "You ought to be ashamed of yourself. How would _you_ like to be compared to a whelk or a winkle? You and your mussels! Consider the gentleman's feelings!"

"I _didn't_ say _mussels_--I said _mossels_," muttered Nurse Crab, sullenly.

"Well, well," quoth the Lobster. "You take my advice, And I fancy we'll do without HUXLEY or BRYCE. Mere mussels or mackerel, lower-class grub, That flounder in baskets, or flop in a tub, At six for a shilling, or tuppence a pound, May go sick if they like, but we _must_ bring _you_ round!"

[_And_ Mr. PUNCH _hopes they will_.

* * * * *

LITTLE MOPSËMAN.

(_The very newest Dramatic Allegory from Norway._)

PERSONS.

ALFRED FRÜYSECK (_Man of Letters_). Mrs. SPRETA FRÜYSECK (_his wife_). Little MOPSËMAN (_their Püdeldachs, six years and nine months old_). MOPSA BROVIK (_a little less than kin to_ ALFRED). Sanitary Engineer BLOCHDRÄHN. The VARMINT-BL[=O]K.

TRANSLATOR'S NOTE.--The word "_bl[=o]k_," like the analogous Norwegian "_gëyser_," implies merely an individual--not necessarily a shady one. Cf. ELEN and CHEVALIER, _passim_.

THE FIRST ACT.

_A richly-upholstered garden-room, full of art-pots and other furniture._ Mrs. SPRETA FRÜYSECK _stands beside the table, unpacking the traditional bag_. _Shortly after_, Miss MOPSA BROVIK _enters by the door; she carries a pink parasol and a rather portly portfolio with a patent lock_.

_Mopsa_ (_as she enters_). Good morning, my dear SPRETA! (_Sees the bag._) Why, you are unpacking a travelling-bag on the drawing-room table! Then ALFRED has actually come home?

[_Takes off her things._]

_Spreta_ (_turns and nods with a teasing smile_). As if you didn't _know!_ When you have never been down in these parts all the time he has been away! (_Unpacking a flannel vest and a respirator._) Yes. He turned up last night, quite unexpectedly.

_Mopsa._ Then it was _that_ that drew me out here! I felt I _must_. My poor dear mother, KAIA,--she that was a Miss FOSLI, you know,--was like that. She always felt _she_ must. It's heredity. Surely you can understand _that?_

_Spreta_ (_takes out a bottle of cough mixture, and closes the bag with a snap_). I am not quite a fool, my dear. But really, when you have such a firm admirer in Mr. BLOCHDRÄHN----!

_Mopsa._ He is such a mere bachelor. I never could feel really attracted to any unmarried man. All that seems to me so utterly unmaidenly. (_Changing the subject._) How _is_ dear ALFRED?

_Spreta._ Dear ALFRED is tired, but perfectly transfigured by his trip. He has never once been away from me all these years. Only think!

_Mopsa._ That would account for it certainly. And I really think he deserved some little outing. (_With an outburst of joy._) Why, I shouldn't wonder if he has positively finished his great big book while he has been away!

_Spreta_ (_with a half smile_). Shouldn't you? _I_ should. But he has not mentioned it--perhaps he was too tired. And he has been trying to teach that miserable Little MOPSËMAN tricks ever since he came back. I never _did_ care about dogs myself, and really ALFRED is so perfectly absurd about him. Oh, here he is.

ALFRED FRÜYSECK _enters, followed by_ Little MOPSËMAN _on his hind legs_. ALFRED _is a weedy, thin-haired man of about thirty-five (or thirty-six) with tinted spectacles and limp side-whiskers_. MOPSËMAN _wears a military tunic and a shako very much over one eye, and is shouldering a small toy musket. He is bandy-legged, with a broad black snout and beautiful intelligent eyes. His tail is drooping and has lost all its hair._

_Alfred_ (_beaming_). Just see what really wonderful progress Little MOPSËMAN has made already with his drill. Why, my dearest MOPSA! (_Goes up and kisses her with marked pleasure._) You have come here the very morning after my return? Fancy _that_.

_Mopsa_ (_gazes fixedly at him_). I couldn't keep away. You are looking quite splendid! And how have you got on with your wonderful large book, ALFRED? I felt so sure it would go so easily when once you had got away from dear SPRETA.

_Alfred_ (_shrugging his shoulders_). It _did_--wonderfully easily. The truth is my thick fat book on _Canine Idiosyncrasy_--h'm--has gone--entirely out of my head. I have been trying thinking for a change. It's easier than writing.

_Spreta._ Yes, ALFRED, I can understand that. And then, when you had never really got farther than the title----!

_Alfred_ (_smiling at her_). No farther than _that_. Somehow, none of the FRÜYSECKS ever _do_. My family is a thing apart. And now I have determined to devote my whole time to Little MOPSËMAN. I am going to foster all the noble germs in him, create a conscious happiness in his mind. (_With enthusiasm._) That is my true vocation.

_Spreta._ You shouldn't have dressed the poor dog up like that. It does make him look so utterly ridiculous!

_Alfred_ (_speaking lower and seriously_). Only in the eyes of the Philistines who couldn't see any pathos in poor Mrs. SOLNESS and her nine dolls. The truly reverent have no sense whatever of the ridiculous. Still, it would certainly be better in future to keep Little MOPSËMAN indoors, because if the dogs in the streets saw him in those clothes--(_clenching his hands_)--and after he has had that unfortunate accident to his tail, too!

_Spreta._ ALFRED, I won't _have_ you bringing up that again! There's someone knocking. Come in.

_The Varmint-Bl[=o]k_ (_enters softly and noiselessly. He is a slouching, sinister figure, in a fur cap and a flowered comforter. He has a large green gingham in one hand, and in the other a bag which writhes unpleasantly_). Humbly beg pardon, your worships, but you don't happen to feel in the humour to see how this little wounded warrior here (_points to_ MOPSËMAN) would polish off the lovely little ratikins, do you?

_Alfred_ (_with suppressed indignation_). We most certainly do _not_. He is intended for higher things. Get out, you have frightened him under the sofa.

_The Varm.-B._ He'll come round right enough.... There, didn't I _tell_ you! See how he sniffs at my legs. It's wonderful what a fancy dawgs _do_ seem to take to me--follow me _anywhere_, they will. (_With a chuckling laugh._) Seems as if they'd _got_ to.

_Spreta._ There is certainly no accounting---- And what becomes of them when they do?

_The Varm.-B._ (_with glittering eyes_). Oh, _they_'re safe enough, the sweet little creatures, lady. I'm very kind to 'em. And if I could only induce you to let your lovely poodlekin tackle a dozen rats, which 'ud be a holiday to a game little sportin' dawg like him---- _Not_ this mornin'? then here's a loving good-day to you all, and thank ye kindly for nothing.

_He backs out cringingly, as_ SPRETA _retires to the verandah, fanning herself elegantly with her pocket-handkerchief_; MOPSËMAN _slips out after him, unnoticed by all_. ALFRED _sees_ MOPSA'S _portfolio_.

_Alfred_ (_to_ MOPSA). And have you positively lugged this thing all the way out here. Wasn't it heavy?

_Mopsa_ (_nods_). It _had_ to be. It contains all the letters written to my poor dear Mother--by Master-builder SOLNESS, you know. My Mother had such a rich, beautiful past. I thought, ALFRED, we might look them through together quietly some evening, when SPRETA is out of the way.

[_Looks attentively at him._]

_Alfred_ (_uneasily, to himself_). Oh, my good gracious! (_Aloud._) It would certainly _have_ to be some evening when---- But on the whole, perhaps, I--I really almost think we had better---- It isn't as if you were _really_ my second cousin!

_Spreta_ (_re-entering from verandah_). Has that horrible person with the rats gone? He has given me almost a kind of turn.

_Alfred._ He is a sort of itinerant Trope, I suppose. Talking of turns, did I tell you that I, too, have experienced a kind of inward revolution away up there among the peaks?... I _have_.

_Spreta._ Oh, heavens! ALFRED, was it the cookery at those high mountain hotels?

_Alfred_ (_soothingly, patting her head_). Not altogether--be very sure of _that_. But it is rather a long story. I should recommend you to sit down. (_They sit down expectantly._) I will try to tell you. (_Gazing straight before him._) When I look back into the vague mists that enshroud my earliest infancy, I seem almost to----

_Spreta_ (_slaps him_). Oh, for goodness' sake, ALFRED, do skip the introduction!

_Alfred_ (_disappointed_). It was the most interesting part! But the long and the short of it is that I have resolved to renounce writing my wonderful work on _Canine Idiosyncracy_! I am going to act it out instead--on Little MOPSËMAN. (_With shining eyes._) I intend to perfect the rich possibilities that lie hidden in that rather unprepossessing poodle. _There!_

_Spreta_ (_holding aloof from him_). And is that _all?_

_Alfred._ H'm, yes, _that_'s all. But you never _did_ properly appreciate poor Little MOPSËMAN!

_Mopsa_ (_pressing his hand_). She never did, ALFRED. But _I_ do. And we will teach him the loveliest new tricks together. (_Fixes her eyes on him._) Just you and I.

_Spreta._ ALFRED, I won't have the dog taught any tomfoolery. You shall not divide yourself up like that. Do you hear?