Punch (99.1890)

July 19, 1890.] PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. 33

A GRUMBLE FOR THE GRENADIERS.

What is this your Punch hears of you ? Can't you dissipate his
Did the bugle ring out vainly for the British Grenadiers ? [fears ?
Once the regiment was famous for its deeds of derring-do,
And you followed where the flag went when on alien winds it flew.
Has the soldiers' " oath of duty " heen forgotten, that you shirk,
Not the face of foe, we 're certain, hut this kit-inspecting work ?

You have trodden paths of glory (we have'seen your banners fly)
Where the murky smoke of battle gathered thickly o'er the sky ;
Can you thus besmirch the laurels that in other days you won,
By forgetfulness of duties that by soldiers must be done ?
Egad! my gallant lads, your Punch can scarce believe his ears,
When he hears this shocking story of the British Grenadiers!

VOCES POPULI.

AT A DANCE.

The Hostess is receiving her Guests at the head of the staircase ; a

Conscientiously Literal Man presents himself.
Hostess [with a gracious smile, and her eyes directed to the people
immediately behind him). So glad you were able to come—how do
you do f

The Conscientiously Literal Man. Well, if you had asked'me that
question this afternoon, I should have said
1 was in for a severe attack of malarial
fever—I had all the symptoms—but, about
seven o'clock this evening, they suddenly

passed off, and-

[Perceives, to his surprise, that his Hostess's
attention is wandering, and decides to
tell her the rest later in the evening.
Mr. Clumpsole. How do you do. Miss
Thistledown ? Can you give me a dance ?

Miss Thistledown (who has danced with
him before—once). With pleasure—let me
see, the third extra after supper? Don't
forget.

Miss Brushleigh (to Major Erser). Afraid I can't give you any-
thing just now—but if you see me standing about later on, you can
come and ask me again, you know.

Mr. Boldover (glancing eagerly round the room as he enters, and
soliloquising mentally). She ought to be here by this time, if she's
coming—can't see her though—she's certainly not dancing. There's
her sister over there with the mother. She hasn't come, or she'd be
with them. _ Poor-looking lot of girls here to-night—don't think
much of this music—get away as soon as I can, no go about the
thing! . . . Hooray! There she is, after all! Jolly waltz this is
they're playing! How pretty she's looking—how pretty all the
girls are looking! If I can only get her to give me one dance, and
sit out most of it somewhere! I feel as if I could talk to her to-
night. By Jove, I '11 try it!

[ Watches his opportunity, and is cautiously making'', his way
towards his divinity, when he is intercepted.
Mrs. Grappleton. Mr. Boldover, I do believe youwere going to
cut me! (Mr. B. protests and apologises ) Well, I forgive you.
I've been wanting to have another talk with you for ever so long.
I've been thinking so much of what you said that evening about
Browning's relation to Science and the Supernatural. Suppose you
take me downstairs for an ice or something, and we can have it out
comfortably together.

[Dismay of Mr. B., who has entirely forgotten any theories he
may have advanced on the subject, but has no option but to
comply; as he leaves the room with Mrs. Grappleton on Ms
arm, he has a torturing glimpse of Miss Roundaem, appa-
rently absorbed in her partner's conversation.
Mr. Senior Roppe (as he waltzes). Oh, you needn't feel convicted
of extraordinary ignorance, I assure you, Miss Featheehead. Tou
would be surprised if you knew how many really clever persons have
found that simple little problem of nought divided by one too much
for them. Would you have supposed, by the way, that there is a
reservoir in Pennsylvania containing a sufficient number of gallons
to supply all London for eighteen months ? Tou don't quite realise
it, I see. "How many gallons is that?" Well, let me calculate
roughly—taking the population of London at four millions, and the

average daily consumption for each individual at-no, I can't work

it out with sufficient accuracy while I am dancing; suppose we sit
down, and I '11 do it for you on my shirt-cuff—oh, very well; then
I '11 work it out when I get home, and send you the result to-morrow,
if you will allow me.

Mr. Culdersack (who has provided himself beforehand with a set
of topics for conversation—to his partner, as they halt for a moment).
Er—(consults some hieroglyphics on his cuff stealthily)—have you read
Stanley's book yet ?

Miss Tabula Raiser. No, I haven't. Is it interesting P

Mr. Culdersack. I can't say. I've not seen it myself. Shall
we—er— ? [ They take another turn.

Mr. C. I suppose you have—er—been to the (hesitates between the
Academy and the Military Exhibition—decides on latter topic as
fresher)) Military Exhibition ?

Miss T. R. No—not yet. What do you think of it ?

Mr. C. Oh—/haven't been either. Er—do you care to-?

[ They take another turn.

Mr. C. (after third halt). Er—do you take any interest in politics ?

Miss T. R. Not a bit.

Mr. C.(much relieved). No more do I. (Considers that he has
satisfied all mental requirements). Ec—let me take you down-stairs
for an ice. [They go.

Mrs. Grappleton (re-entering with Mr. Boldover, after a dis-
cussion that has outlasted tivo ices and a plate of strawberries). Well,
I thought you would have explained my difficulties better than that
—oh, what a delicious waltz! Doesn't it set you longing to dance ?
Mr. B. (who sees Miss Round arm in the distance, disengaged). Yes,

I really think I must- [Preparing to escape.

Mrs. Grappleton. I'm getting such an old things that really I
oughtn't to—but well, just this once, as my husband isn't here.

[Ms. Boldover resigns himself to necessity once more.
First Chaperon (to 2nd ditto). How sweet it is of your eldest girl to
dance with that absurd Mr. Clumpsole ! It's really too bad of him
to make such an exhibition of her—one can't help smiling at them!

Second Ch. Oh, Ethel never can bear to hurt anyone's feelings—
so different from some girls! By the way, I've not seen your daughter
dancing to-night—men who dance are so scarce nowadays—I suppose
they think they have the right to be a little fastidious.

First Ch. Bella has been out so much this week, that she doesn't
care to dance except with a really first-rate partner. She is not so
easily pleased as your Ethel, I'm afraid.

Second Ch. Ethel is young, you see, and, when one is pressed so
much to dance, one can hardly refuse, can one ? When she has had
as many Seasons as Bella, she will be less energetic, I daresay.

[Me. Boldovee has at last succeeded in approaching Miss
Roundaem, and even in inducing her to sit out a dance icith
him; but, having led her to a convenient alcove, he finds
himself totally unable to give any adequate expression to the
rapture he feels at being by her side.
Mr. B. (determined to lead up to it somehow). I—I was rather
thinking—(Ac meant to say, "devoutly hoping," but, to his own
bitter disgust, it comes out like this)—! should meet you here to-night.
Miss R. Were you ? Why ?

Mr. B. (tvith a sudden dread of going too far just yet). Oh,
(carelessly), you know how one does wonder who will be at a place,
and who won't.
Miss R. No, indeed, I don't.—how does one wonder ?
Mr. B. (with a vague notion of implying a complimentary excep-
tion in her case). Oh, well, generally—(with the fatal tendency of a
shy man to a sweeping statement)—one may be pretty sure of
meeting just the people one least wants to see, you know.
Miss R. And so you thought you would probably meet me. I see.
Mr. B. (overwhelmed with confusion, and not in the least knowing
what he says). No, no, I didn't think that—I hoped you mightn't—

I mean, I was afraid you might-

[Stops short, oppressed by the impossibility of explaining.
Miss R. You are not very complimentary to-night, are you ?
Mr. B. I can't pay compliments—to you—I don't know how it is,
but I never can talk to you as I can to other people !
Miss R. Are you amusing when you are with other people ?
Mr. B. At all events I can find things to say to them.

Enter Another Man.

Another Man (to Miss B.). Oar dance, I think?
Miss. R. (who had intended to get out of it). I was wondering if
you ever meant to come for it. (To Mr. B., as they rise.) Now I
shan't feel I am depriving the other people! (Perceives the speech-
less agony in his expression, and relents.) Well, you can have the
next after this if you care about it—only do try to think of some-
thing in the meantime! (As she goes off.) You will—won't you ?

Mr. B. (to himself). She's given me another chance! If only I
can rise to it. Let me see—what shall I begin with ? J know—
Supper ! She hasn't been down yet.
His Hostess. Oh, Mr. Boldovee, you're not dancing this—do be

food and take someone down to supper—those poor Chaperons are
ying for some food.

[Mr, B. takes down a Matron whose repast is protracted through
three waltzes and a set of Lancers—he comes up to find
Miss Roundaem gone, and the Musicians putting up their
instruments.

Coachman at door (to Linkman, as Mr. B. goes down the steps).
That's the lot, Jim I

[Mr. B. walks home, wishing the Park Gates were not shut, to
as to render the Serpentine inaccessible