Punch (74.1878)

Mat 4, 1878.]

203

PAUCA VERBA.

Robinson {after a long Whist-Bout at the Club). "It's awfully Late,
Brown. What will you say to your Wife ? "

Brown {in a whisper). " Oh, I shan't say much, you know—* Good
Morning, Dear,' or something o' that sort. She'll Say the Rest ! 11"

Was it indeed she ? Was this strange, weird, pale, sallow, and shrunken
figure, with jaws as hollow as the heart that had heen wearing a mask in
these marble halls—was this creature, with short stubbly hair, this toothless
hag, the voluptuous Cleopatra-like Circe, the sensuous sorceress, who had
enthralled him, and made him the lost fiend he was ?

In the glare of the light, her soft antelope eyes only saw the pale bronze
face, and the merciless menace of the dark, gleaming, veiled, passionless glance
of him, whose love had been Hanwellian in its insanity, and whose revenge
would be as pitiless as the boot-rack of the Inquisition, or the torture of the
Italian Grinders on organs more sensitive than their own barbarous inventions.

"I triumph! " shrieked the Bohemienne, Tipiti Witcheeta, who stood at
her side, with fragrant unguents, and a perfect wealth and glory of forged,
false, golden hair. " Tumi Tupmum!" she screamed, in her low Tzlang
dialect. " Tumi Tupmum ! Tumi tupi tellyer !"

Regula Baddun was paralysed. She could not utter a cry, she could not
faint; her colour had gone. Ah, if she could have dyed, there and then !

Epicurean as she was, she could have called out in her dread, but that a
choking sensation was at her throat, and Regula Baddun sank back trembling,
shivering, shrinking, shrieking in terror, and shuddering, as though from the
fury of this whirlwind of dust which she herself had been the first to raise. In
his great agony of fooled, cheated, double-villain-dyed passion, he felt that his
brutal thirst for vengeance must burst forth in one ereat unrestrained, uncurbed,
overpowering riot, of mad, cankerous, pitiless, unflinching hate I

"Faithless, toothless, truthless traitress I " he cried. And the old crone
chuckled in horrid remorseless glee.

Then his laugh rang out in terrible mirth. He cared no more now for
figure, form, or buckles, nor for all the restraints he had put upon himself till
this minute. His chest heaved like an Enceladus beneath Eton, as he hurled
the pomata, the bandolinata, the rouge-box, the false eyebrows, the paste-pots
and brushes, through the stained glass window; then into the fire he dashed
the powder, which went off with a puff, shaking the walls to the foundation.
With resistless, relentless force, he tore her false hair to shreds, broke her
enamelled brushes, shivered into a thousand atoms the diamond tooth-combs
which she had used for her false teeth, and then, with unabated fury, he
leapt at her with the bound of a Spring chicken.

" I . . . dye ! " she shrieked.

" You do—and you shall! " he cried with his horrid,
demoniac laughter; while the Gipsy, from behind the
bed-curtains, yelled aloud, in her low Tzlang dialect,
" literard ! Stiaint gotno phrenz ! "

Escaping for a moment from Stbapmore, she threw
open wide the window. A crushed and shapeless, but
still a living, breathing, flopping mass, she fell against
the sill—half out, half within. He had not come unpre-
pared for this attempt. Seizing a cudgel, and holding
it in both arms, crossways, he rapped the side of the win-
dow sharply, sang a few bars of a wild, vindictive air,
repeated the three blows on the window-sill, as though
sharpening the weapon for vengeance, and then aimed,
with it, at her head. Adroitly, and with the cunning of a
serpent, she foiled him each time he tried to hit her,
so quickly moving her head, that the stick descended
with a heavy thud on the window-sill. Then Strap-
more paused for a second in his work, and in a harsh,
rauque, cruel voice, cried, "You thought to make me
rue ! You shall rue, too, oh rue too too ! rue too too ! ! "
And once more the stick descended, and once more she
avoided the blow. A crowd had gathered in front: he
waited for the blow of his revenge to fall in the sight of
the assembled multitude. Suddenly, a man below gave
the alarm by beating a drum, and blowing on some reed-
pipes.

Then with one last look at that helpless, nerveless
form, Stbapmore, for disguise, turned into the next
street, and fled. He was hotly pursued. His bulk and
weight told against him. His agile slimness had gone.
On! On!

Into a house, up the stairs, on to the roof, thence he
would seek safety in flight. "Alas!" he murmured
hoarsely, " I cannot fly."

" Like a bird," whispered a low voice in his ear. It
was Tipiti Witcheeta, the Gipsy. " Come ! "

He followed her, quite like an ordinary being, a3 a
man follows another who goes first, for he was broken in
heart and spirit. She took him to their caravan in a
fair. The Proprietor was in mourning for the rectnt loss
of the Fat Man, Danielo Lamberto Secondo. When
he saw Stbapmobe, he said, " With a little more feeding,
and no exercise, he '11 do."

Then the once brilliant, light-hearted, trim Strap-
more accepted the terms ; and when the Proprietor had
closed with this offer, he opened with a new programme.

Tipiti Witcheeta made him sign a paper, bequeathing
all he had to the Loo-Loo, her daughter. He did it with-
out a pang, for he knew that the end was near, and that
his Order was barred against him for ever.

It mattered little to Strapmore when the Proprietor
informed him that not even his Order could be admitted,
the business being so good. He had no wish to see any-
one again.

(To be continued.)

JUSTICE TO SCOTLAND.

Canny Punch,

A correct appreciation of the Scottish character
is evinced by an English morning paper in the statement
following anent:—

"The late Sir W. Stirling-Maxwell.—Ia addition to
the provisions made in the English settlement, we understand
that Sir William Stirling-Maxwell has, by his Scotch dis-
position, bequeathed £100 to each of his six executors."

Then follows a list of handsome legacies, which the
testator also left "by his Scotch disposition," to rela-
tions and. dependants. It used to be considered unco
facetious to describe the Scotch disposition as peculiarly
parsimonious. But the better joke is the true one, like
the above, which, on the contrary, implies generosity to
be the special characteristic of the Scotch disposition.

I am, Sir, your constant subscriber,
Aberdeen. Andrew Auldjo.

P.S.—I enclose my card, in order that you may be
enabled to forward me remuneration.

Motto eor the Tamworth Electors {according to
Mr. Hanbury).—Beer and for Beer.