Chapter 2

_First Girl,_ That was ELIZA all over. If GEORGE had been sensible, he'd have broken it off then and there--but no, he wouldn't hear a word against her, not at that time--it was the button-hook opened _his_ eyes!

_[The other passengers strive to dissemble a frantic desire to know how and why this delicate operation was performed._ Second Girl (mysteriously)_. And enough too! But what put GEORGE off most was her keeping that bag so quiet.

_[The general imagination is once more stirred to its depths by this mysterious allusion._

_First Girl._ Yes, he did feel that, I know, he used to come and go on about it to me by the hour together. "I shouldn't have minded so much," he told me over and over again, with the tears standing in his eyes,--"if it hadn't been that the bottles was all silver-mounted!"

_Second Girl._ Silver-mounted? I never heard of _that_ before--no wonder he felt hurt!

_First Girl (impressively)._ Silver tops to everyone of them--and that girl to turn round as she did, and her with an Uncle in the oil and colour line, too--it nearly broke GEORGE'S 'art!

_Second Girl_. He's such a one to take on about things--but, as I said to him, "GEORGE," I says, "You must remember it might have been worse. Suppose you'd been married to that girl, and _then_ found out about ALF and the Jubilee sixpence--how would _that_ have been?"

_First Girl (unconsciously acting as the mouth-piece of the other passengers)._ And what did he say to _that?_

_Second Girl._ Oh, nothing--there was nothing he _could_ say, but I could see he was struck. She behaved very mean to the last--she wouldn't send back the German concertina.

_First Girl._ You don't say so! Well, I wouldn't have thought that of her, bad as she is.

_Second Girl._ No, she stuck to it that it wasn't like a regular present, being got through a grocer, and as she couldn't send him back the tea, being drunk,--but did you hear how she treated EMMA over the crinoline 'at she got for her?

_First Girl (to the immense relief of the rest)._ No, what was that?

_Second Girl._ Well, I had it from EMMA her own self. ELIZA wrote up to her and says, in a postscript like,--Why, this is Tottenham Court Road, I get out here. Good-bye, dear, I must tell you the rest another day.

_[Gets out, leaving the tantalised audience inconsolable, and longing for courage to question her companion as to the precise details of_ ELIZA'S _heartless behaviour to_ GEORGE. _The companion, however, relapses into a stony reserve. Enter a_ Chatty Old Gentleman _who has no secrets from anybody, and of course selects as the first recipient of his confidence the one person who hates to be talked to in an omnibus._

_The Chatty O.G._ I've just been having a talk with the policeman at the corner there--what do you think I said to him?

_His Opposite Neighbour._ I--I really don't know.

_The C.O.G._ Well, I told him he was a rich man compared to me. He said, "I only get thirty shillings a week, Sir." "Ah," I said, "but look at your expenses, compared to mine. What would _you_ do if you had to spend eight hundred a year on your children's education? I spend that--every penny of it, Sir.

_His Opp. N. (utterly uninterested)._ Do you indeed?--dear me!

_C.O.G._ Not that I grudge it--a good education is a fortune in itself, and as I've always told my boys, they must make the best of it, for it's all they'll get. They're good enough lads, but I've had a deal of trouble with them one way and another--a _deal_ of trouble. _(Pauses for some expression of sympathy--which does not come--and he continues:)_ There are my two eldest sons--what must they do but fall in love with the same lady--the same lady. Sir! _(No one seems to care much for these domestic revelations--possibly because they are too obviously addressed to the general ear.)_ And, to make matters worse, she was a married woman--_(his principal hearer looks another way uneasily)_--the wife of a godson of mine, which made it all the more awkward, y'know. (His Opposite Neighbour _giving no sign, the_ C. O. G. _tries one Passenger after another.)_ Well, I went to him--(here he fixes an old Lady, who immediately passes up coppers out of her glove to the_ Conductor)--went to him, and said--_(addressing a smartly dressed young Lady with a parcel, who giggles)_--I said, "You're a man of the world--so am I. Don't you take any notice," I told him--_(this to a callow young man, who blushes)_--"they're a Couple of young fools," I said, "but you tell your dear wife from me not to mind those boys of mine--they'll soon get tired of it if they're only let alone." And so they would have, long ago, it's my belief, if they'd met with no encouragement--but what can _I_ do--it's a heavy trial to a father, you know. Then there's my third son--he must needs go and marry--_(to a Lady at his side with a reticule, who gasps faintly)_--some young woman who dances at a Music-hall--nice daughter-in-law that for a man in my position, eh? I've forbidden him the house of course, and told his mother not to have any communication with him--but I know, Sir,--_(violently, to a Man on his other side, who coughs in much embarrassment)_--I _know_ she meets him once a week under the eagle in Orme Square, and _I_ can't stop her! Then I'm worried about my daughters--one of 'em gave me no peace till I let her have some painting lessons--of course, I naturally thought the drawing-master would be an elderly man--whereas, as things turned out,--

_A Quiet Man in a Corner._ I 'ope you told all this to the Policeman, Sir?

_The C.O.G. (flaming unexpectedly)._ No, Sir, I did _not_. I am not in the habit--whatever _you_ may be--of discussing my private affairs with strangers. I consider your remark highly impertinent, Sir.

[_Fumes in silence for the rest of the journey.

The Young Lady with the Parcel (to her friend--for the sake of vindicating her gentility)._ Oh, my dear, I do feel so funny, carrying a great brown-paper parcel, in a bus, too! Anyone would take me for a shop-girl!

_A Grim Old Lady opposite._ And I only hope, my dear, you'll never be taken for anyone less respectable.

[_Collapse of_ Genteel Y. L.

_The Conductor_. Benk, benk! _(he means "Bank")_ 'Oborn, benk! 'Igher up there, BILL, can't you?

_A Dingy Man smoking, in a Van._ Want to block up the ole o' the road, eh? That's right!

_The Conductor (roused to personality)._ Go 'ome, Dirty DICK! syme old soign, I see,--"Monkey an' Pipe!" _(To Coachman of smart brougham which is pressing rather closely behind.)_ I say, old man, don't you race after my bus like this--you'll only tire your 'orse. _[The Coachman affects not to have heard._

_The Conductor (addressing the brougham horse, whose head is almost through the door of the omnibus)._ 'Ere, '_ang_ it all!--step insoide, if yer want to!

_[Brougham falls to rear_--_triumph of_ Conductor _as Scene closes_.

* * * * *

IN THE KNOW.

_(By Mr. Punch's Own Prophet.)_

Readers of this journal will be surprised to learn that I am penning these lines from Blancheville, which as everybody, except the chief of the chowder-heads, knows is the most important town of one of the principal departments of France. Nothing but an overwhelming sense of what is due to myself, to my readers, and to my country, would have dragged me from the Metropolis at this season of the year. But a distinction was offered to me, a distinction so unique and so dazzling that I felt that it would not be fair to my fellow countrymen, of all ages, and of every party, if I failed to take advantage of it, and thus to present to the envious world the proud spectacle of an Englishman honoured by the great French nation. I will narrate the matter as briefly as is consistent with my respect for accuracy, and with my contempt for the tapioca-brained nincompoops who snarl, and chatter, and cackle at me in the organ of Mr. J. Last Friday I received this telegram:--

_Blancheville, Friday._

The inhabitants of Blancheville, in public meeting assembled, felicitate you on stupendous success of all your prophecies. Desiring to honour you in the name of France, the mother of glorious heroes, and the eldest daughter of Liberty, they have awarded to you the Montyon prize for virtue, and have selected you as _Rosier en perpétuité de Blancheville_, a new post never before held by a man. Presentation on Sunday. Come at once.

_(Signed)_

CARAMEL, _Maire de Blancheville._

I started that evening. In the course of the following day I reached Blancheville. The people, in their holiday attire, were gathered in thousands at the railway station. M. CARAMEL, accompanied by the _Préfet_ and the _Sous-Préfet,_ all in their tricolor sashes, was the first to greet me. Saluting me on both cheeks, he called upon the world to witness that this was indeed a great day for Blancheville. My escort, under the command of General Count CROUTAUPOT, then formed up. I mounted the gilded Car of Victory, specially provided for the celebration, and, amidst the plaudits of the assembled millions, I was drawn by a specially-selected band of _Enfants de la Patrie_ (a sort of body-guard, composed entirely of the French aristocracy) to the palace, which had been prepared for my reception. At the banquet, in the Town Hall, the healths of the QUEEN and of M. CARNOT were followed by a lengthy speech, in English, from my brother CARAMEL (we have sworn fraternity), in which he declared that the centuries looked down and redazed in this joice, and that it was a delight for him to carry a toast to the illustrious visitor who had deigned to come to Blancheville. On the following day the ceremony took place. I transcribe and translate from _Le Petit Colporteur de Blancheville_, the chief local journal, an account of what took place.

"On this day, so great and glorious for our France, it is not possible to refrain from tears of joy and satisfaction. We have made him _Rosier en perpétuité de Blancheville_, him the proudest and most sympathetic writer who has dazzled Europe since the great and illustrious PLUMEAU" (a local author of repute) "departed from us. The history of this day must be written. Let us essay to do it as it should be done. In the early morning twelve selected maidens, robed in muslin and lilies, sang the _Tocsin de la Patrie_ outside the Palace where our guest reposed. Soon afterwards he himself appeared in flowing white garments, and showered blessings upon their heads. He descended. He entered the four-in-hand-teams which the _Maire_ had, as a compliment to England, made up with a _char-à-banc_ of the neighbourhood. Thus he was drawn to the Market Place, where some of our bravest veterans fired in his honour a thundering salute. The beautiful and admirable Madame CARAMEL then advanced to him with a wreath of roses in her hand. She crowned him with it, saying, 'Wear this for Blancheville. Nobly hast thou earned it.' With difficulty the illustrious author preserved his calm. A tear sparkled in his eye. He bent low, and in a voice choked with emotion, thanked the citizens of our town. Then mounting on a milk-white steed, and surrounded by the young men of the district, he received from the _Préfet_ the Prix Montyon for virtue."

The rest is too flattering. I am hastening home. The QUEEN has been graciously pleased to permit me to wear the Prix Montyon at Court. Can a man want more? Yours, in all humility,

LE ROSIER DE BLANCHEVILLE.

* * * * *

A PUFF AT WHITEHALL.

_(A piece of extravagance faintly suggestive of a Scene from "The Critic.")_

Lord GEORGE PUFF _and_ Sir JOHN BULL _discovered attending a rehearsal of the Naval Estimates._

_Lord George._ And now I pray your particular attention, Sir JOHN, as this is the best thing in my play--it is a spectacular effect called the Summer Manoeuvres.

_Sir John._ And no doubt costly, Lord GEORGE?

_Lord George._ You are right, Sir JOHN, as you will have an opportunity of finding out--hereafter. But to the argument. It is supposed that the British Fleet is at war with, indeed, the British Fleet.

_Sir John._ A very clever idea.

_Lord George._ I flatter myself it is, and novel too. It is true that occasionally the ships comprising the British Fleet have run into one another in the past just as if they had been at war, but then they were avowedly at peace, and now they are undoubtedly the reverse. Do you take my meaning?

_Sir John._ Well, not clearly. How do you show that the British Fleet is at war with the British Fleet?

_Lord George._ Ah, there comes in my art, and I think you will confess I have a very pretty wit. You see I divide the British Fleet into two parts--one part represents the enemy and the other part represents itself like the House of Commons, a most representative body. That is clear, I hope?

_Sir John._ Certainly--one is the British Fleet, and the other is not the British Fleet. But is there no bond of union?

_Lord George._ Most assuredly there is--you pay for both. But, pardon me, I beg you will not further interrupt me. So, now that we have the two Fleets face to face, or, I should say, bow to starn, we proceed exactly as if there were a real quarrel between them. We spend money on coal, we spend money on pay, we spend money on ammunition. Nay, by my life, we spend money on everything--just as we should do if war were really declared! That's simple enough.

_Sir John._ I confess your plan _does_ seem simple.

_Lord George._ And there is more behind. We are not satisfied with merely spending money--we learn a lesson as well. Come, you must confess _that_ surprises you?

_Sir John._ Well, I admit that generally, where there is any spending of money, it is _I_ who learn the lesson.

_Lord George._ Good--distinctly good! But let us be serious. Well, when we are carrying on a war by every means in our power, we fancy that one Fleet is chasing the other. They both have equal speed, and we give one Fleet twenty-four hours' start of the other, and will you believe me that, although the first follows the second as fast as may be from the beginning to the end of the manoeuvring, they never see one another! On my life--never! They never see the British Fleet, because it's not in sight!

_Sir John_. But could you not have learned all this without so great an expenditure of money?

_Lord George._ Well, no, Sir JOHN--not at the Admiralty!

_Sir John._ And how do you end the farce?

_Lord George._ In the usual fashion, Sir JOHN _(ignites blue fire)_--in smoke!

_[The characters are lost in the fog customary to the occasion. Curtain._

* * * * *

* * * * *

"SHADOWED!"

Shadowed! Ay, even in the holiday season, The Statesman, in his hard-earned hour of ease, Is haunted by forebodings, and with reason. What is that spectre the tired slumberer sees? The foul familiar lineaments affright him; Its pose of menace and its pointing hand To caution urge, to providence invite him, To foil this scourge of the Distressful Land.

Who does _not_ fear to speak of Forty-Seven, When that same Shadow darkened all the isle? Is _it_ abroad once more? Avert it, Heaven! On Order's lips it chills the dawning smile; Awakener of hushed fears and hatreds dying, Blighter of more than Nature's genial growth, Herald of hungering lips, of children crying, To hold thee imminent all hearts are loth.

Vain holiday nepenthe, sport's unbending, The Statesman's burdened brain may not forget. His cares are ceaseless and his toils unending, Memories embarrass and forebodings fret. The gun, the golf-club, and the rod avail not In his tired heart to make full holiday; E'en amidst pastime he must watch, and fail not, Approaching ills, the shadows on the way.

Shadowed! And not by common gloom, poor Minister! The passing shades that chequer every course. This spectral presence is as stern and sinister As _atra cura_ on the rider's horse. Before, the vision of the helpless peasant! Behind, the famine phantom black and grim! How should the holiday-hour, to all so pleasant, Bring gladness true or genuine rest to him?

Wake! There is need for provident prevision, For watchful eye, and for most wary hand. In mellow Autumn's interlude Elysian The old grim Shadow strikes across the land. May Heaven arrest its course, avert its terror, And keep the Statesman who this foe must fight From careless blindness and from blundering error, Such as of old lent aid to the Black Blight.

* * * * *

"JACK SHEPPARD REVERSED."

This is the title of an amusing article in last week's _Saturday Review_. It is not the story of JACK SHEPPARD once more done into rhyme. The title so happily selected is thoroughly justified by the doings of an eccentric and original burglar, who, broke _into_ a prison! This certainly was JACK SHEPPARD reversed with a vengeance! The hero of the escapade is said to be a tinted native of Barbadoes--his portrait should be published as a companion to the "penny plain" of his prototype as "twopence coloured."

* * * * *

CARDINAL MANNING'S PRECEDENCE.

It does not need heraldic lore The Cardinal's place to find. Of course he'll always come before The ones who are behind.

* * * * *

THE PHAGOCYTE.

_(The Story of a Blood Feud.)_

[A microscopist has found an organism called the Phagocyte in the blood, which pursues and devours the Bacilli.]

Strange the tale that Science tells. Here are some devouring cells: Ever watchful night and day, They the vile Bacillus slay; Wot we well he fears the bite Of the guardian Phagocyte.

Hour by hour the fight goes on, Till the silent battle's won; Vainly do Bacilli shirk When their deadly foe's at work; Every microbe faints with fright At the fearsome Phagocyte.

Should the Phagocyte not keep Faithful ward, but go to sleep; Then Bacillus, in high glee, Works his will on you and me; Danger would be ours to-night, But for that same Phagocyte.

Such a tale of Science seems Like the offspring of wild dreams; Fiction surely, in good sooth, Can invent no tale like truth. Stranger story none could write Than this of the Phagocyte.

The Astronomer descries Worlds on worlds beyond our eyes; 'Neath the microscope weird things Erst unseen whirl round in rings; Hence it is that we indite Stanzas to the Phagocyte.

* * * * *

* * * * *

* * * * *

MR. PUNCH'S SWIM ROUND THE WORLD.

_(From his own Prophetic Log-book.)_

_Herne Bay._--The weather being extremely favourable, I jumped off the end of the new pier, and, getting the benefit of the flood tide, passed the Nore and inspected Southend. Swimming quite easily, assisted by one or two short rests.

_Margate._--Beached this popular seaside place a few hours later. Swam out of sight of the sands to rid myself of a view of the excursion riff-raff thereon congregated. Sea completely smooth, but cold. Took a nip of ----'s English Cognac.

_Ramsgate._--Very pleased to find myself abreast of the Royal Crescent, which seemed delightful. Cape Grisnez still bearing N.E. by E. Munched one of ----'s excellent Birchrod Biscuits.

_Dover._--Just had a good long rest in front of Clarence Lawn, which glistened in the sunlight. Greatly refreshed after a drink of ----'s Essence of Gravy beef.

_Calais._--A shower of rain came on at this point. However, one of ----'s excellent umbrellas kept my head dry, and, being easy to hold, did not prevent me from swimming and writing up my log.

_Gibraltar._--I felt very fatigued going through the Bay of Biscay, but recovered much of my strength off the fortress by sucking one of ----'s capital Kill-cough Lozenges.

_Malta._--I have now been in the water six days and three nights continuously, and yet am nearly as fresh as when I started. I attribute this marvellous fact to my practice of sipping ----'s Essence of Coffeetine.

_Aden._--Water extremely hot, but am still confident of success. Went to sleep for an hour in the Red Sea, smoking one of ----'s Anti-alligator cigarettes, which are a real preventive against crocodile annoyance.

_Madras._--Am continuing my side-stroke but somewhat languidly. I half regretted that I was unable to go on shore to see the Indian curiosities. Much refreshed after partaking of the contents of ----'s Patent Luncheon Basket.

_Singapore._--Have now been continually in the water for six weeks. Regret that my log should be so "scrappy," but my time just now is very much occupied by other things. Tired, but confident of success. During the last fortnight have fed with great relish upon ----'s _Purée de foies gras._ It is not only cheap, but excellent.

_New Hebrides._--Am now within measurable distance of the end of my journey. Quite accustomed to the water. However, greatly fatigued, and very pleased to eat some of ----'s Alimentary Condiment.

_Pitcairn Island._--Glad to be again in these latitudes. My strokes are now very feeble. I should have to give in were it not for ----'s Medicated Mutton Broth, which seems to be most nourishing.

_Cape Town._--In a fainting condition. Scarcely able to hold this pen. Became better after eating ----'s Digestible Plum Puddings, sold in tin canisters at 1s. 10d. per pound.

_Rio Janeiro._--Terribly hot and exhausted. I have now been three months continuously in the water, which is certainly a long time. Much amused with a toy called ----'s Mechanical Rabbit.

_Cape Verde Islands._--Almost unconscious from fatigue. However, I can swim more easily after I have drunk a glass or two of ----'s Cabbage Rose Temperance Non-Intoxicating Sherry. It is a most admirable beverage.

_Madeira._--I move with the greatest difficulty, and fear I must be sinking. I obtain great strength from an occasional sip of ----'s "Beef-fibre" (title registered) which seems to me worth twice its weight in gold.

_Dublin._--Have now been in the water continuously for nearly half a year. Too feeble to look at Dublin. I am evidently sinking, and can only keep off a relapse by eating ----'s Patent Vegetable Substitute for Roast Pork.

_Herne Bay._--Returned dead--quite dead! Restored to life by inhaling ----'s Vitality Producer.

N.B.--The above blanks will be filled up with real names. For particulars apply at 85, Fleet Street Advertisement Department.

* * * * *

A BLACK BUSINESS.

As stated in the _Daily Telegraph_ of Thursday last, the Russian Censor stamped out _Mr. Punch's_ Cartoon, "From Nile to Neva," and obliterated the verses. The _St. James's Gazette_ suggested that the Cartoon was thus reproduced in Whistlerian fashion. It certainly is a study in black, without any relief whatever. A Black business indeed! Who shall correct the Censor Incensed? Even _Mr. Punch_ himself would be chary about visiting Petersburg, lest he should be "bound in Russia,"--and sent to Siberia.

* * * * *

* * * * *

WHAT THE TAME RABBIT SAID TO THE GRAND OLD GARDENER.

_(Some way after "Alice in Wonderland.")_