Punch, or the London Charivari, Volume 103, October 15, 1892 online

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VOL. 103.

October 15, 1892.




DEAR CHARLIE, - The post-mark, no doubt, will surprise you. I'm
still at the "Crown,"
Though I said in my last - wot wos true - I was jest on the mizzle
for town.
'Ad a letter from nunky, old man, with another small cheque. Good
old nunk!
So I'm in for a fortnit' more sulphur and slosh, afore doing a bunk.

Ah! I've worked it, my pippin, I've worked it; gone in for
hexcursions all round,
To Knaresborough, Bolton, and Fountains. You know, dear old pal,
I'll be bound,
As hantiquities isn't my 'obby, and ruins don't fetch me, not much!
I can't see their "beauty," no more than the charms of some dowdy
old Dutch.

A Castle, all chunnicks of stone, or a Habbey, much out of repair,
A skelinton Banquetting 'All, and a bit of a broken-down stair,
May appear most perticular "precious" to them as the picteresk cops;
But give me the sububs and stucco, smart villas, and
spick-and-span shops.

"Up to date" is our _siney quay non_ in these days. _Fang der
sickle_, yer know.
Wich is French for the same, I persoom, and them phrases is now
all the go.
Find 'em sprinkled all over the papers; in politics, fashion, or
If you carnt turn 'em slick round yer tongue, you ain't modern, or
knowing, or smart.

Still a houting to Bolton ain't bad when the _charry-bang's_ well
loaded up
With swell seven-and-sixpence-a-headers. _I_ felt like a tarrier-pup
On the scoop arter six weeks of kennel and drench in the 'ands of
a vet;
I'd got free of the brimstoney flaviour and went it accordin', you

'Ad a day at a village called Birstwith. The most tooralooralest
'Oiler down among 'ills, dontcher know, ancient trees and a jolly
big green.
Reglar old Rip-van-Winkleish spot, sech as CALDECOTT ought to ha'
Though I ain't noways nuts on the pastoral, even Yours Truly wos

Pooty sight and no error, old pal! 'Twos a grand "Aughticultural
So the "Progrum of Sports" told the public. Fruit, flowers, and
live poultry, yer know.
Big markee and a range of old 'en-coops, sports, niggers, a smart
local band,
Cottage gardemn', cheese, roosters, and races! Rum mix, but I gave
it a 'and.

I do like to hencourage the joskins. One thing though, wos
They 'ad a "Refreshment Tent," CHARLIE. 'Oh my! Ginger-ale and
weak tea!
Nothink stronger, old pal, s'elp me bob! Fancy _me_ flopping down
on a form
A-munching plum-putty, and lapping Bohea as wos not even warm!

This 'ere 'Arrygate's short of amusements. There's niggers and
bands on the "Stray"
(Big lumpy old field in a 'ole, wich if properly managed might pay.)
Mysterious Minstrels with masks on, a bleating contralto in black,
With a orful tremoler, my pippin! - yus, these are the pick of the

Bit sick of "_Ta-ra-ra_" and "_Knocked 'em_;" "_Carissimar_" gives
me the 'ump,
For I 'ear it some six times per morning; and then there's a footy
old pump
Blows staggery toons on a post-'orn for full arf a-hour each day,
To muster the mugs for a coach-drive. My heye and a bandbox, it's

At the "Crown" we git up little barnies, to eke out the 'Arrygate
For even the Spa's a bit samesome for six times a week when it's
Though they do go it pooty permiskus with pickter-shows, concerts,
and such;
Yus, I must say they ladles it out fair and free, for a sixpenny

But even yer Fancy Dress Balls, and yer lectures by ANNIE BESANT,
All about Hastral Bodies and Hether, seems not always _quite_ wot
yer want
To wile away time arter dinner. So thanks to that
gent - six-foot-four! -
Who fair cuts the record as Droring-Room M.C. - of course

Then we've conjurors, worblers, phrenologists! One 'ad a go at
_my_ chump.
'E touzled my 'air up tremenjus, and said I'd no hend of a bump
Of somethink he called "Happrybativeness." Feller meant well, I
But I didn't quite relish his smile, nor his rummy remarks on my

When a tall gurl as pooty as paint, and with cheeks like a
blush - rose in bloom,
'As 'er lamps all a-larf on yer face, and a giggle goes round the
whole room,
'Tisn't nice to sit square on a chair, with a feller a-sharpening
'is wit
On your nob, and a rumpling your 'air till it's like a birch-broom
in a fit!

One caper we 'ad, on the lawn, wos a spree and no error, old man.
They call it a "Soap-Bubble Tournyment." Soapsuds, a pipe, and a
Four six - foot posts stuck in the ground with a tape run
around - them's the "props,"
And lawn-tennis ain't in it for larks. Oh, the ladies did larf,
though tip-tops!

Bit sniffy fust off. "Oh!" sez they, "wot a most _hintellectual_
But I noticed that them as sneered most wos most anxious to win,
all the same,
The gent he stands slap in the middle, and tries to blow bubbles
like fun,
Wich his pardner fans over the tape; don't it jest keep the girls
on the run!

Every bubble as crosses the tape afore busting counts one to that
And the pair as counts most wins the prize. They are timed by a
hegg-boiler. There!
It _wos_ all a pantermime, CHARLIE, to see 'ow them gurls scooted
Jest like Japanese jugglers, a-fanning the bubbles, as _would_ 'ug
the ground.

Some gents wos fair frosts at the bizness; one good-'earted trim
little toff
Would blow with the bowl wrong end uppards. His pardner went pink
and flounced off.
He gurgled away like a babe with a pap-bottle, guggle - gug - gug!
And I 'eard 'er a-giving 'im beans as 'e mizzled, much down in the

Owsomever, it ain't for amusements as 'Arrygate lays itself hout;
So, dear boy, it's for doses and douches; and there it scores
freely, no doubt,
Wy, there's thirty-two Springs in the Bog Field - a place like a
graveyard gone wrong -
Besides Starbeck, the Tewit, and others, all narsty, and most on
'em strong.

Since Sir SLINGSBY discovered the first one, now close on three
cent'ries ago,
Wot a lush of mixed mineral muck these 'ere 'Arrygate Springs 'ave
let flow!
Well, ere's bully for Brimstone, my bloater, and 'ooray for
'Arrygate air!
Wich 'as done me most good I don't know, and I'm scorched if I
very much care!

I know 'Arrygate girls cop the biscuit for beauty. They've cheeks
like the rose,
Their skin is jest strorberries and cream; it's the sulphur, dear
boy, I suppose.
As for me, I look yaller as taller alongside 'em CHARLIE, wus luck!
I 'eard one call me saffron-faced sparrer, and jest as I thought
'er fair struck.

I'd nail 'em, in time, I've no doubt, when I once got the 'ang of
their style.
There's a gal at the Montpellier Baths. Scissoree! 'ow I've tried
for a smile,
When she tips me my tannersworth! Shucks! she's as orty and stiff
as yer please.
Primrose Dames isn't in it for snubs with these arrygant

But I reckon my "Douche" is now due. Doctor BLACK's that
pertikler, old man.
These 'Arrygate doctors 'ave progrums - you've got to pan out to
their plan.
Up early, two swigs afore breakfust, and tubs when they tell yer's
the rule.
Well, the feller as flies to a Sawbones, and _don't_ toe the line
is a fool.

Reglar Doctor-Shop, 'Arrygate is; see their photos all over the
Mine is doing me dollups of good; I'm quite peckish, and jest a
bit brown.
I'm making the most of my time, and a-laying in all I can carry.
So 'ere ends this budget of brimstone and baths from your


* * * * *




AIR - "_A Frog he would a-Wooing go_."

A FROGGIE would a-rowing go,
Heigho for Rowing!
To see if Big BULLIE could lick him or no;
With his boating form that's all gammon and spinach.
Heigho for British Rowing!

So off he set with his boating-cap,
Heigho for Rowing!
And swore at Big BULL he would just have a slap!
Which BULL declared was all gammon and spinach!
Heigho for British Rowing!

"Pray, Mr. BULL, will you race with me?"
Heigho for Rowing!
Says BULL, "If you like, but 'tis fiddle-de-dee!
For FROG against BULL is all gammon and spinach."
Heigho for British Rowing!

When they came to Andresy upon the Seine,
Heigho for Rowing!
Big BULL pulled his hardest, but pulled in vain,
For he found his boasts were all gammon and spinach.
Heigho for British Rowing!

For in spite of the brag, and the bounce, and the chaff,
Heigho for Rowing!
The FROG beat the BULL by a length and a half,
With your MOSSOP and JAMES, licked by BOUDIN and CUZIN,
Heigho, says R.C. LEHMANN!

"Pray, Mr. BULL, do you relish the spin?"
Heigho for Rowing!
(Said FROGGIE.) "And were you cocksure you would win,
With your forty-one strokes all sheer gammon and spinach?"
Heigho for British Rowing!

"Humph! Regular take-down!" said Big Mr. BULL -
Heigho for Rowing!
"But, FROGGIE or not, by the lord you can _pull_,
With your much-decried 'hang,' - 'twas all gammon and spinach!
Heigho for British Rowing!"

"Ha! Ha!" cried the FROG, "the old fable, thought true" -
Heigho for Rowing!
"Is out of date now. I'm as big, BULL, as _you_,
As an oarsman, which is _not_ all gammon and spinach!"
Heigho for British Rowing.

So that in the end (for the present), you see,
Heigho for Rowing!
Of the race between Big BULL and Little FROGGIE.
BULL's fame, in a boat, seems all gammon and spinach.
Heigho for British Rowing!

* * * * *

[Illustration: LOOKING AHEAD.

_Miss Golightly_ (_the Friend of the Family, and to whom Sir Percy
(the elder) has proposed_). "OF COURSE I'M AWFULLY OBLIGED, SIR

* * * * *

MR. CHAUNCEY DEPEW, the well-known American lawyer, wonders why on
earth the British Government has not long ago given Home Rule to
Ireland. He encourages Mr. G.'s Ministry to do their best in this
direction, and chaunce-y it. We're always delighted to welcome Mr.
CHAUNCEY DEPEW in England, so let him come over with a Depewtation
to Mr. G. on the subject.

* * * * *

EQUESTRIAN FRUIT. - At the Horticultural Show the Baroness
BURDETT-COUTTS exhibited a "Cob of ADAM's Early Maize." No particulars
are given. Was it 14'1 and a weight-carrier? Being ADAM's, it must be
about the oldest in the world. "Maize" may be a misprint for "Mews."
Next time the Baroness must send a pear.

* * * * *

PROBABLE DEDUCTION. - A pertinacious Salvation Army Captain was
worrying a Scotch farmer, whom he had met in the train, with perpetual
inquiries as to whether "he had been born again of Water and the
Spirit?" At last, MCSANDY replied, "Aweel, I dinna reetly ken how
that may be, but my good old feyther and mither took their toddy
releegiously every nicht, the noo."

* * * * *


_Q._ You have heard of the Ride from Berlin to Vienna, and _vice

_A._ Yes; and of the mishaps that befell many of the competitors.

_Q._ You mean their horses?

_A._ What applies to the one applies to the other.

_Q._ Some of the poor steeds died on the journey?

_A._ I daresay - of course, it was hard work.

_Q._ And you have read that, even when the poor horses were fainting
and refusing food, the riders still went on?

_A._ Of course. The riders had magnificent pluck and nerve.

_Q._ What, to observe the anguish of their chargers without emotion?

_A._ No! The idea! I mean they had pluck and nerve in spite of all
discouragement to push on to the winning-post.

_Q._ And what do you think this breaking down of the horses proved?

_A._ That, after all, the creatures were brutes - only brutes!

_Q._ Does not the suffering of these brutes suggest -

_A._ That the riders were brutes too? - Ah!

[_No further question put, the Answerer having mastered the

* * * * *

IN EXCELSIS. - No better example of the methods employed by
Vivisectionists could be given than was presented at the Church
Congress last week, where in debate on this subject they were all
engaged in cutting up one another. The Bishop of EDINBURGH, denouncing
the morality of the Bishop of MANCHESTER and of Bishop BARRY, was a
rare sight. His Lordship said that the morality of these two Bishops
was "up in a balloon." Well, surely this is morality of the most
elevated description. These Bishops are not "_in partibus_," but _in

* * * * *

IN WATER COLOURS. - The East London Waterworks Company had a very
successful meeting the other day. _Inter alia_ the Chairman said,
that "the Waltham Well is a complete success." _Ergo_ let Well alone.
That from this source they still supplied "36 gallons per head." The
heads must be uncommonly hard to stand all this water on the brain. A
dividend of eight per cent. is, after all, a very pleasant draught.

* * * * *



_On the Car is, among others, an Elderly Gentleman, in a
tall hat, with a quantity of wraps; a Stout Shopkeeper, with
a stouter Wife; a Serious Commercial Traveller, and a couple
of young "Shop-ladies"; a Morose Young Man, who has "got
out of bed the wrong side" that morning, and another, who
has begun his potations rather early, and is in the muzzily
talkative mood. The Car is one of a long string of similar
vehicles, and is proceeding at a rapid rate along one of the
winding roads._

_The Muzzy Man_. Frivolous, am I? Well, we _came_ 'ere to be
frivolous - to a certain extent. Am I out of the way in anything I've
said? Because I woke this morning with a dry month, and I don't mind
saying I've had a little drop o' brandy since.

_His Neighbour_. You might let people find out that for themselves,
_I_ should think!

_The Muzzy M._ No - I like to be honest and straightforward, I do. I
don't want to be out of the _way_, you understand.

_The Shopkeeper's Wife_ (_to her Neighbour_). This is a pretty part
of the road we're on now - but, lor! there's nothing 'ere to come up to
the Isle of Man. Douglas, now - that _is_ a nice place, with all them
Music Halls! And the scenery - why, I'm sure I felt sometimes as if I
_must_ stop, just to _look_ at it!

_The Muzzy Man_. I consider scenery we're coming to most beautiful
I've seen for - for miles around. [_He goes to sleep._

[Illustration: "An elderly Gentleman, in a tall hat, with a quantity
of wraps."]

_The Shopkeeper_ (_to the Elderly G., who is shifting and turning
about uneasily_). Lost anything, Sir?

_The E.G._ No - thank you, no. I was looking to see whether GREEN the
Guide was on the car. (_Shouts of laughter are heard from the car
behind._) Ah, _that's_ GREEN the Guide! I wish he'd come on our
oar - very amusing fellow, Sir - capital company!

_The Morose M._ (_to the Young Lady 'on his Left_) Who's GREEN the

_The Y.L._ Oh, don't you know? He comes with the cars and makes jokes
and all that. I hope he'll come to us.

_The Mor. M._ _I_ don't. I can do that sort of thing for myself if I
want to, I hope. [_With a scowl._

_The Y.L._ Well, there's no harm in _hoping_!

_The Serious Comm. T._ (_to his neighbour - one of the Shop-ladies_).
So you come from Birmingham? Dear me, now. I used to be there very
often on business at one time. Do you know the Rev. Mr. PODGER there?
A good old gentleman, he is. I used to attend his Chapel regular - most
improving discourses he used to give us. I am fond of a good Sermon,
aren't you? &c.

[_He imagines - not altogether correctly - that he is producing
an agreeable impression._

_A Young Man in a Frock-coat, Canvas-shoes, and Cloth-cap._
Scarborough? Yes, I've _been_ there - but I don't care about it much.
You have to _dress_ such a lot there, y' know, and I like to come out
just as I am!

[_The conversation, notwithstanding its brilliancy, is
beginning to flag - when the car is boarded by a stalwart
good-looking man, carrying a banjo, and wearing a leather
shoulder-belt with "GREEN the Guide" in brass letters upon
it; the Elderly Gentleman, and most of the Ladies welcome
him with effusion, while the Younger Men appear to resent
his appearance._

_The Mor. M._ (_sotto voce_). If he's going to play that old
instrument of torture, I shall _howl_, that's all!

_Green the Guide_ (_in a deep baritone voice_). Well, Ladies
and Gentlemen, I congratulate you upon having a fine day for our
excursion. My glass went up three feet this morning.

_The Morose Man_ (_aggressively_). Was there whiskey inside it?

_Green the Guide_. No, Sir, it would have gone down suddenly if there
had been. (_The_ Elderly G. _asks for a song_.) I shall be delighted
to entertain you to the best of my ability. What would you like to

_The Mor. M._ None of your songs - give us an imitation - of a deaf and
dumb man.

_Green the G._ (_with perfect good-humour_). I shall be happy to do
the deaf man, Sir, - if you'll help me by doing the dumb. (_The_ Mor.
M. _begins to feel that he had better leave_ GREEN the Guide _alone._)
Well, Ladies and Gentlemen, I'll sing you a good old-fashioned
hunting-song, and I'll ask you to join me in the Chorus.

[_He sings "We'll all go out hunting to-day!"_

_The Mor. M._ (_after the First Verse_). The beggar don't sing so
badly. I will say _that_ for him! (_After the Third._) Capital voice
he has! Rattling good Chorus, too! "Join the glad throng that goes
laughing along, and we'll all go a-hunting to-day!" (_At the end._)
Bravo! encore! encore!

[_His good-humour is suddenly and miraculously restored._

_Green the G._ (_in a tone of instruction_). You will notice that the
thistle is very abundant just here, Ladies and Gentlemen. The reason
of _that_, is that some years ago a vessel was wrecked on this part of
the coast which was sailing from Scotland with a cargo of thistledown.
(_Outcry of incredulity_.) If you don't believe me, ask the Coachman.

_The Coachman_ (_stolidly_). It's a fact, Gentlemen, I assure you.

_G. the G._ The soil of Jersey is remarkably productive; if you plant
a sixpence, it will come up a shilling in no time. The cabbages on
this island grow to an extraordinary height, frequently attaining
twenty feet - (_outcry_) - yes, if you measure up one side, and down the
other. (_They pass a couple of sheep on a slope._) The finest flock
of sheep in the island. The dark one is not black, only a little
sunburnt. The house you see on that hill over there was formerly slept
in by CHARLES THE SECOND. He left a pair of slippers behind him - which
have since grown into top-boots. There you see the only windmill in
this part of the island - there _used_ to be three, but it was found
there was not enough wind for them all. From here you have a clear
view of the coast of France; and, when the wind is blowing in this
direction, you have an excellent opportunity of acquiring the French
accent in all its purity. (_This string of somewhat hoary chestnuts
meets with a success beyond their intrinsic merits, the_ Morose Man
_being as much entertained as anybody._) On your right is an inland
lake of fresh water -

_The Muzzy Man_ (_waking up with sudden interest_). Can you drink it
with perfect impunity?

_G. the G._ Depends how far you are accustomed to it as a beverage,
Sir. (_The car stops at an hotel._) We stop here two hours, Ladies and
Gentlemen, to enable you to lunch, and examine the caves afterwards.
You can leave anything you like on the cars except five-pound
notes - and they _might_ get blown away!


_The Shopkeeper's Wife_ (_to her Husband_). Ah, TOM, it's just as
well you stayed behind - you'd never have got through those caves! You
wouldn't believe I could ha' done it unless you'd seen me - clambering
down iron ladders, and jumping on to rocks, and squeezing through
tunnels, and then up a cliff like the side of a house. I do _wish_ you
could ha' seen me, TOM!

_Tom_ (_philosophically_). Ah, well, I was very comfortable where I
was, settin' in the hotel room there, smoking my pipe. GREEN the Guide
gave us, "_Rocked in the Cradle of the Deep_," in first-rate style - he
is a _singer_, and no mistake!

_His Wife_. Lor, I wish I'd known he was going to sing - I'd ha' stayed
too! But here he is, waiting by the road for us - I do hope he's going
to sing again!

_Green the G._ (_mounting the car_). I fear I am an unwelcome visitor.

_The Eld. G._ (_graciously_). It would be the first time in your life
then, GREEN!

_G. the G._ Well, the fact is, I come to levy a little contribution on
behalf of myself and the Coachman. Times are hard, Gentlemen, and both
of us have large families to support. If you don't believe me, ask
the Coachman. (_The Elderly G. explains that his wrappings prevent
him from getting at his purse just then, while the others contribute
with more or less readiness and liberality_.) Many thanks. Ladies and
Gentlemen, on behalf of myself and the Coachman, and to express my
sense of your generosity, I will sing you the great Jersey National
Song, composed by myself, before leaving. (_He sings a ditty with the
following spirited Chorus_): -

There the streets are paved with granite. So neat and clean
And lots of pretty, witty girls, are always to be seen!
With the brave old Mi-litia, Our foes to defy!
And there they grow the Cabba-ges - Ten feet high!
(_All together, Gentlemen, please_!) Yes, there they grow the
Cabbages, there they grow the Cabbages, there they grow
the Cabbages - Ten feet high!

Thank you, Gentlemen, I've sung that song a number of times, and I
never remember hearing the chorus better sung. If you don't believe
me, ask the Coachman.

_Coachman._ _I've_ never 'eard it better sung, Ladies and Gentlemen,
I assure you.

[_GREEN the Guide descends in a blaze of popularity, and the
"Royal Blue" rolls on in excellent spirits._

* * * * *


_Monday_. - Read Mr. CHAMBERLAIN's remarks on abstinence from bodily
exercise. Sold my bicycle, and gave away all my rackets, bats, &c.
Resolved to follow the latest system. Shall doubtless, by these means,
reach Mr. C.'s high position as a statesman and orator. Went out
in a Bath-chair. Five minutes after starting, man said he was not
accustomed to drag so heavy an invalid, and must rest a little. Tried
a speech - my maiden one - on the Disadvantages of Bodily Exercise. He
listened respectfully, and, when at last I had finished, said he quite
agreed with me, and that the fare was seven shillings.

_Tuesday_. - Have decided that exercise in a Bath-chair is quite
superfluous. Resolved to take exercise, for the future, in a hammock,
just outside the garden-door. Must practise speech-making to the
gardener. Good idea - Orchids. Asked him what he thought about the new
Orchid. Miserable fool answered, "Awkud, zur? Dunno waht thaht be."
I said that was "awkud," and had to laugh at the highly original
side-splitter myself, as he never saw it.

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Online LibraryVariousPunch, or the London Charivari, Volume 103, October 15, 1892 → online text (page 1 of 3)