Punch (98.1890)

202

PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHAEIVARI. [April 26, 1890.

HYPNOTIC HIGH FEEDING.

{Being some Brief Diary Notes of a Coming Little Dinner {Neiv Style),
jotted down a few years hence.)

" Yotje dinner is served, Sir '."

It was the Professorial Butler -who made this announcement with
a solemn and significant bow. He had undertaken, for the modest
fee of half-a-crown, to throw my four guests,—an Epicurean Duke,
a couple of noted. Diners-out, and a Gourmand of a high order well
known in Society,—into a profound hypnotic sleep, under the influ-
ence of which, while supplied with a few scraps of food, and slops by
way of drink, they were to believe that they were assisting at a most
recherche repast, provided by a cuisine, and accompanied by choice
vintage wines, both of the first excellence.

I felt a little nervous as we proceeded to the dining-room, but as
the Professor adroitly passed his hand over the head of each as he
descended the stairs, and pointed out to me the dazed and vacant
look that had settled on the features of all of them, I felt
reassured, especially when they fell mechanically into their places,
and began to peruse, with evident
delight, the contents of the Menu,
which ran as follows:—
Soup.

Toast-and-water and Candle-ends.
Fish.

Herrings' Heads and Tails.
Counter Sweepings.
Enteehets.
Kotten Cabbage-stalks.
Enteee.
Odds and Ends of Shoe Leather.
Roast.
Cat's Meat.
Sweet.

Old Jam-pot Scrapings on Musty
Bread.

That they didn't all rise like one
manwith a howl of execration on
reading this was soon explained
when the Professorial Butler set
down a soup-plate before the Epi-
curean Duke and with an'insinua-
ting smile, simply announced it as
Tortue claire. It was clear from
this that they were under the im-
pression that they were partaking
of afirst-class little dinner, andhad
read the Menu at the will of the
Professorial Butler, as he subse-
quently explained to me in Bueh
fashion that the toast-and-water
soup, in which the candle-ends
played the part of green fat, ap-
peared to them in the light of the
finest " clear turtle." "And how
about the Herrings' Heads and
Tails ? " I asked. 1' They take that
for Saumon de Gloucester, sauce

can be no sort of doubt, for fourpence more than covered the cost of
the materials, to which, adding the Professorial Butler's fee of two
shillings and sixpence, brings the whole cost of the entertainment up
to eightpenoe-halfpenny a head. It is true 1 have not heard whether
any of my guests have suffered any ill-effects from partaking of my
hospitality, but I suppose if any of them had died or been seized with
violent symptoms, the fact would have been notified to me. So, on the
whole, I may congratulate myself. I certainly could not afford to enter-
tain largely in any other fashion, but, with the aid of the Professorial
Butler, I am already contemplating giving a series of nice " Little
Dinners," and even on a more extended ssale. Indeed, with the
assistance of Hypnotism, it is possible, at a trifling cost, to Bee one's
friends. And in the general interests of Society, I mean to do it.

FANCY PORTRAIT.

{After reading the Correspondence on Fruit and Birds in the
"Morning Post.")

BULLYING POOR " BULLY.5'
Saxs the Blackbird to the Bullfinch, " It is April; let us up !
We will breakfast on the plum-germs, on the pear-buds we will sup."
Says the Bullfinch to the Blackbird, " We '11 devour them every bit,
And quite ruin the fruit-growers, with some aid from the Tom-tit."

Then these garden Machiavellisset

to work and did not stop
Till the promise of September pre-
maturely plumped each crop.
Ah! the early frost is ruthless,

and the caterpillar's cruel,
But, to spifflicate the plum or give

the gooseberry its gruel,
To confusticate the apple, or to

scrumplicate the pear,
Discombobulate the cherry, make

the grower tear his hair,
And in general play old gooseberry
with the orchard and the garden,
Till the Autumn crop won't fetch
the grumpy farmer " a brass
farden,"

There is nothing half so ogreish as

the Bullfinch and his chums,
Those imps of devastation—as re-
gards our pears and plums.
Poor "Bully," sung by Cowpee

in his pretty plaintive verse,
It is thus thine ancient character

they (let us hope) asperse.
" The gardener's chief enemy,"

so angry scribes declare,
And the cause why ribstone pippins
and prime biggaroons are rare.
Little birds, my pretty " Bully,"

should all diet upon worms,
And grub on grubs, contented, not
on fruit-buds and young germs
Vain yourpretty coat, my "Bully,"

beady eyes, and pleasant pipe,
If you will not give our fruit-crops

half a chance of getting ripe.
Let us hope that they traduce you,

all this angry scribbling host
Of horticultural zealots who abuse
you in the Post.

\\A—

Pierre Le Grand," was the bland reply, a fact which at that moment
the Gourmand endorsed, by smacking his lips and with an ejacula-
tion of "Sublime salmon that! I '11 take a little more," holding out
his plate for a second helping. ■ The Cabbage-stalks figured in their
imagination as Asperges d'ltalie, en branches glacees a la Tour d' Am-
sterdam," while the pennyworth of plain cat's meat, passed more
than muster as " Filet de Bceufen Diplomat, braisee d la Prince de
Pekin." The Shoe-leather and Jam- pot Scrapings brought the Menu
to a triumphant close, with " Ris de Veau pralinee au boucles Men-
schikoff," and " Bombardes Imperials de Peru" respectively.

I confess, when I heard one of the Diners-out asking for Cham-
pagne, and saw his glass filled with Harvey's Sauce and water, with
the announcement that it was Dry Monopole Cuvee Peservee, I f elt
some momentary misgivings, but they were speedily put to flight on
my noticing the evident gusto with which he emptied his glass,
at the same time pronouncing it to be " a very fine wine," which he
assigned to the vintage of '76. I own too I felt a little nervous when
the Professorial Butler, I think not without a sly twinkle in his eye,
gave all the party a liqueur of petroleum for Green Chartreuse, but
they certainly seemed to find it all right, and so my apprehensions
disappeared.

Thus my " Little Dinner" came at length to a conclusion. That
it was an undoubted success, from a financial point of view, there

THE BRIGAND BTJIXFIKTCH. i The Reverend P. 0. Moeeis takes

--—--;-- the field in your defence,

Bat they swear, though pictaresquish, he's devoid of common-sense.
Punch inclineth to the Parson, and he doesn't quite believe
All the statements of the growers and the gardeners who grieve
Over " Bully's " depredations, for he knows that, as a rule,
The birds' foe is a fashionable fribble, or a fool.
From the damsels who despoil them for their bonnets or their cloaks,
To the farmer who exterminates the dickies, and then croaks
O'er the spread of caterpillars and such-like devouring vermin,
They are selfish and shortsighted. So he '11 not in haste determine
The case against poor " Bully," or the Blackbird, or Tom-tit.
Though they put it very strongly, Punch would warn them—Wait
a bit!

Sportive Captain Hawley Smaet takes a ssmewhai new depar-
ture in Without Love or Licence. There is less racing than usual
in this novel, and there is a very ingenious plot, which we are not
going to spoil the pleasure of the reader by divulging. The secret
is well kept, and one is put off the scent till well-nigh the final
chapter. The whole story is bright and dashing, abounding with
graphic sketches of such people as one meets every day. The author
is in the best of spirits—he evidently has a licence for spirits —and
keeps his audience thoroughly amused, from start to finish.