Punch: Punch (69.1875)

July 24, 1875.] PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. 33

back way, when we all expected him to knock at the front door ?_ It
amused the foreign attaches immensely. Can't write any more just
now, as I am off to Shoeburyness to see some pretty, but rather ex-
pensive, fireworks. Don't forget "Wimbledon.

Yours ever, G-eoege.

Mr. Punch, who is the"most amiable of men, at once consented to
comply with a request so becomingly expressed, and, without delay,
travelled down to the Camp. At Clapham Junction he was invited
to change carriages, and found that the Railway Companies, with
that forethought for which they are renowned, had prepared a little
preliminary puzzle for the Volunteers, evidently with a view to
testing their knowledge of military tactics. The tunnel underneath
the Station was in the hands of the plasterers; and as all the ordi-
nary directions on the walls had been carefully painted out, it was
a matter of chance if you turned up on a platform "right" for
Brighton, or got into a train warranted to carry you all the way to
Exeter in something less than no time. After an hour spent in a
fruitless search for a conveyance bound for Wimbledon, Mr. Punch
entered a vacant carriage, and soon found himself safely landed at
Putney. The comparative dexterity with which this feat was ac-
complished,, was strongly suggestive of a third-rate conjuring trick
performed by a fourth-
rate conjuror. However,
Mr. Punch did certainly
arrive at Putney, and Put-
ney is, as everyone knows,
but a step from Wimble-
don. Remembering the
beauties of the Cedars, and
the fashions of the Camp,
he begs to add that he
found that step was the
step that divided the Sub-
lime from the Ridiculous.
On his way to the ground
the Great Creature was in-
vited to have his portrait
"done" by a Photogra-
phic Artist, who was " ta-
king off" a gentleman
of melancholy appearance,
" pour encourager les au-
tres." The offer was re-
fused.

Passing the Camp gate,
with its guard of police-
men, Mr. Punch found

himself in the enclosure. He noticed immediately that, in the
majority of cases, the Yolunteers, in pitching their tents, had
neglected to follow the golden rule of camping out, " "When in
doubt (of the weather) dig a trench."

With a deep sigh, Mr. Punch gloomily pursued his way. " In spite
of the camp flags of the Yictoria Rifles, which I see, very appropriately,
contains a skull and crossbones," said the Great Man, " I fear the
Yolunteers will never exactly understand the duties of real soldiers.

Stay, what have we here!"
he added, as a bold yeoman,
in martial array strutted
past, with all the majesty
of a Lord Mayor, and more
than the dignity of a

suburban peacock. "Come,
this is very fair, indeed,"
murmured Mr. Punch, ap-
provingly. " Boots, tunic,
helmet, and pouch-belt.
And now for the side-arms.
Ah! as I feared! That
fatal, that death-dealing
blow—an umbrella!" And
Mr._ Punch felt very much
inclined to weep long and
bitterly. Had he no cause
for sorrow ? Yes, indeed,
indeed he had. On all sides
the same utter disregard
for appearances met his
view. Yolunteers in wide-
awakes of all colours, and
of everydeseription, Yolun-
teers in straw hats, Yolun-
teers in "chimney-pots,"
Yolunteers in caps ! The
same old story—careless-
ness and lack of discipline turning a magnificent force of patriots
into a body of mock marksmen—into an army of sham soldiers!

Walking away from the absurd umbrella-bearer clad in a helmet,
Mr. Punch prepared to enter one of the tents. There were beds
of flowers on either side of the opening, and in one of the beds
stood a board, bearing the inscription " Captain S. Bouquet, 443rd
Loamshire Rifles—the Soldier's Retreat." " Here, I say," mur-
mured the proprietor, languidly, "you mustn't come in until you
have wiped your feet." Mr. Punch left some mud on a cocoa-nut
mat, and entered "The
Soldier's Retreat." The
soldier seemed to have re-
treated very comfortably.
A thick carpet was spread
over the boarded floor.
On the carpet stood mar-
queterie tables, easy chairs,
and a piano. The atmos-
phere was suggestive of
a perfumer's shop; and
the ensemble would have
been invaluable to an
artist drawing (for a perio-
dical circulating in the
kitchen) an illustration
to a story of excessively
high _ life. A sketch of
the interior of the tent
would have done nicely
for a picture representing
"The Boudoir of the
Wicked Duke."

"Rather snug, eh?"
said Captain Bouquet,
"next year I shall have
the canvas papered and
hung with pictures. Can't
do more than that! You
must rough it you know,
when you get to Wim-
bledon."

" Enough of this," cried
Mr. Punch. " I will have
no more ot it," and he
hastened to the happy
shooting fields where small
bore men after firing their
rifles become (if they can
only secure an audience),
big bore men, in their ex-
planation of why they did
not make a "bull," or
wherefore they neglected
to score even an outer.

He was particularly pleased with the new positions. They seemed
to be both easy and effective.

" Must shoot in uniform," said a stout Rifleman, who seemed to
shrink from " trying his size " for certain weighty reasons.

" Yery proper regulation, indeed," commented Mr. Punch; and he
noticed that one of the competitors (evidently a soldier every inch
of him) had complied with this rule by wearing a complete suit of
mufti plus a sword-belt attached to an umbrella.