Punch: Punch (39.1860)

October 6, I860.] PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI,

137

A REAL. WORKING MEN’S RIFLE CORPS.

Perhaps they won’t per-
sewere! ” was the reflection
of the footman when he
heard his bell rung vigo-
rously a second and third
time; and did not think it
worth his while to trouble
himself to answer it.
“Perhaps they won’t per-
sewere ! ” may have like-
wise been the thought of
certain friends across the
Channel, when they heard
how energetically our Rifle
Movement was first started,
and what vigorous vitality
was evinced in its quick
progress. If this were so,
however, we apprehend that
our good friends have been
sadly disappointed. The
ardour of our Riflemen has
not been “ too hot to hold,”
as the common saying goes;
and the wet which they
have marched through has
entirely failed to damp it.
Ardent spirits as they are,
the members of our Rifle
Corps will bear a lot of
water before they are much
weakened by it. Their
patriotic fire is not easy to
be quenched, and we may
now regard them as com-
pletely above proof, with
so many watery trials has
their strength been weekly
tested.

If patience is a virtue, so is perseverance; and of both of these good qualities
our Volunteers have clearly shown themselves possessed. Some Corps have
erhaps displayed them more than others; and a laudable example of what may
e achieved in the pursuit of Rifle practice under no slight difficulties is afforded

to posterity by the members of the Deptford Company,
of whose good work their captain,—Montgomerie by
name, has let us know this much:—

“ Having received from a friendly neighbour ground for ball practice,
and spoilt bricks enough for a wall, thoy set to work to erect their
own butt; and in seven evenings, working with a will, and every
member of every rank, tho chaplaiu not excepted, taking his turn
at digging and wheeling, they erected a wall sixty-four feet long, ten
feet high, and six feet thick at the base, with an embankment
behind it.”

This Deptford Corps, we learn, was set on foot for
“ working men.” Assuredly its members, in erecting their
own butts, have not belied their name, and they have
thereby made it one which they may well feel proud of.
We think if other corps were to follow in their footsteps,
there would be small harm, and probably great benefit.
There is nothing infra dig. in handling a spade, and in
erecting their own butts there is nothing to cause Riflemen
to make butts of themselves for outsiders to laugh at.
However high may be their standing in society, they need
not fear that doing useful handiwork will lower it; and as
for any jokes that may be cracked at their expense, the
cracking of their rifles will be quite enough to drown them.
Indeed, seeing what expense their butt-making has saved
them, they can well afford to run the risk of being laughed at.

But there is little chance of ridicule for such good pluck
and perseverance as that by which the Deptford corps have
won our thanks and kudos. We say our “thanks,” for
every one who lends his aid to strengthen our national
defences, deserves the thanks of every one who wants to
be defended by them. As the father of a family, in their
name we therefore thank the Deptford Volunteers for the
practice ground which they so pluckily have made; and
we hope next year at Wimbledon they will show us that
their practice has made them pretty perfect.

The Head of his Race.

At the boat-races at Ottawa, before the Prince or
Wales, the great race was won by an Indian, who shot
far a-head of all his competitors. This gives a flat con-
tradiction to the assertion, that the Indians as a race are
fast going out. However, in the present instance, it was no
great wonder that the Indian proved the winner, for as his
canoe was made of birch, it was pretty sure to flog all others.

CRINOLINE AND CIVILISATION.

“ Oh, Mr. Punch! I am so enchanted! What do you think that
darling Prince oe Wales has discovered? At least it wasn’t he
exactly, but the Times Correspondent; only of course you know if the
Prince hadn’t gone there, the Correspondent would not either, and so
the discovery might never have been made, or at any rate not so soon,
and, if it had, perhaps the Times might not have had its Correspondent
there, and then of course the public would have heard nothing about
it. But I’m keeping you, poor man! from the account of the discovery.
Here it is then, word for word as it was printed in the paper, I got my
little sister Julia to copy it, for Miss Smith (she’s our governess)
was gone to see her Aunt, at least she says it’s her Aunt, but I say it’s
her Cousin, because I know that he’s at home now, and he’s got Oh !
such nice hair, and such a lovely large moustache, at least so Miss
Smith tells me, and so you see I had to hear the children say their
lessons ; and Julia, Oh! she was such a naughty child, she would insist
on saying ‘cat’ spelt 'dog? and in declaring that twice twelve was
a hundred and twenty-four ! and in protesting that New York was a
lake in Mesopotamia! And so for punishment I made her copy out
this extract, and you needn’t be afraid to print it from her writing,
because I read it over afterwards and made the spelling right, and put
the proper stops. You know the Correspondent is describing the
Royal tour through Upper Canada, and between two villages called
Almonte and Arapsin—they have the queerest names for places in
America!—he says:—

“ The track was partly through the forest, over what is called a corduroy road, a
Colonial synonyme for no road at all, a kind of track whore the natural inequalities
of the ground arc developed to their utmost by a profuse intermixture of pine logs.
The route at this part lay through a perfectly wild country. Only a log cabin broke
the monotony of the forest here and there, with a group of ragged brown girls and
boys clustered on pine logs to cheer the Prince. The despotism of fashion, howew,
has penetrated into the remotest recesses of these backwoods, for however ragged
may be the female members of a Settler’s family, I never saw any who did not wear
the most monstrous wooden hoops under their petticoats.”

" There, Mr. Punch\ Now, what do you say to that, Sir? Wide
petticoats are worn in the backwoods of America! Isn’t that an inte-
resting discovery to make! And how glad I am to think the Prince—

dear darling fellow, how I should like to waltz with him—should be
the man to make it! One feels really almost reconciled to losing him so
long, when one hears of what intelligence his absence is productive.
How charming it is to think that wherever women go, Crinoline goes
with them; and that no matter what a nuisance and a trouble it must
be to them, they will persist in wearing it despite of every obstacle.
Of course it must be a great bother to walk in a wide petticoat in
places like the backwoods, at least if they ’re at all like what my fancy
paints them. Why, even in Keio Gardens there are walks which are
so narrow one can scarcely squeeze one’s hoops through them, and I’m
sure in Richmond Park there are heaps and heaps of places where one
finds one’s Crinoline immensely inconvenient. As for Burnham Beeches,
really there are walks there which are quite impassable if one goes in a
wide dress. The last picnic that I went to, I got so entangled, I do
believe indeed that I should never have got out if Cousin Charley, who
was with me, hadn’t had a penknife, and so by main force extricated me.
He said I was as difficult to clear as the Great Pastern, and I’m sure
it took him such a time to cut me out, that Mamma grew really anxious
and would insist on sending off that horrid Mr. Quizzington to see
what had become of me !

“ Well, if Crinoline is so inconvenient in England, what must it be
in places like the forests of America! and how brave it is in girls to
go through the bore of wearing it! Much as you hate Crinoline I’m
sure you must admire the heroism—or should I call it heroism ?—of
those who make such martyrs of themselves by using it. And surely
you will cease, Sir, from your horrible attacks on it, now you are con-
vinced, as I’m sure you ought to be, that they are futile to arrest its
world-pervading course, and that wherever we may trace the advance
of civilisation, there will the march of Crinoline infallibly be manifest.

“ I remain, Sir, in the fashion,

“ Yours defiantly as ever,

“ Amelia Angelica Angelina Agnes Anne.”

“ P.S. Does Judy wear Crinoline? I’ll bet a pair of gloves she
does !

“ P.S. My size is six-and-a-quarter. Please leave them under cover,
at your office, and I’ll call for them.”

Vol. 39.

5—2