Punch: Punch (101.1891)

54 PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. [August 1 1891.

SPEECHES TO BE LIVED DOWN-IF POSSIBLE!

Sympathetic Lady Guest. "Don't be unhappy about the Rain, dear Mrs. Bounderson—it will soon be over, and youb
Garden will be lovelier than ever !"

Little Mrs. Goldmore Bounderson (who is giving her first Garden Party). "Yes; but I'm afraid it will keep my most desirable
Guests from coming ! "

ON THE BRIDGE !

(A Much Modernised Version oj " The Vision^qf Mirzah.")

On the second day of the week, commonly called Saint Monday
(which according to the Customs of my Forefathers, I always keep as
Holiday), after having washed myself, and offered up my Morning-
Devotions at the shrine of Nicotine, I turned over the pages of
Bradshaw, with a view to passing the rest of the day in some more
or less Rural Retirement.

As I was here confusing myself with the multitudinous Com-
plexities of this recondite Tome, I fell into a profound Contemplation
of the Vanity of human Holiday-making ; and, passing from one
puzzling page to another, Surely, said I, Man is but a Muddler and
Life a Maze!

" Right you are ! " sounded a mysterious voice in my ear.

The Sound of the voice was exceeding Sweet, and wrought into a
variety of inilections. It put me in mind of those heavenly Airs
that are played from the tops of closely-packed wheeled Vehicles,
from many-keyed Concertinas upon Bank-Holidays. My Heart
melted away in Secret Raptures. By which signs I—who had read
my Spectator at the Free Library—knew well that I was in the
company of a Genius ! It is only Genii who drop upon one suddenly
and unannounced, with a more or less pertinent commentary upon
one's Inner Thoughts, in this fashion. I felt at once that I was in
for the true Addisonian Oriental Apologue in all its hybrid incon-
gruity.

I drew near with that Reverence which is due to a Superior—if
nondescript -Nature; and as niv Heart was entirely subdued by
the captivating Voice I had heard, I fell down at his Feet and wept.
I could hardly have explained why, but 'tis the sort of thing one
always does in an Eastern Apologue. The Genius smiled upon me
with a Look of Compassion and Affabilitv that familiarised him
to my Imagination, at once dispelled all the Fears and Apprehensions
with which I approached him, and turned off my Tearfulness "at
the main," as Samuel Weller said, concerning the Mulberry One.

He lifted me from the ground, and, taking me by the hand,
" Mirzah, " said he, "I have heard thee in thy Soliloquies ; follow
me!"

Now, my name is not Mirzah, but Matthew. Yet, after all, it
did not much matter, and I felt it would be in questionable taste to
correct a Genius.

He then led me to the highest Pinnacle of a Rock, and, placing
me on the Top of it, "Cast thy Eyes yonder," said he, "and
tell me what thou seest." "I see," said I, " a huge Valley, and a
prodigious Roadway running through it." "The Valley that thou
seest," said he, " is the Vale of Travel, and the Roadway that thou
beholdest is part of the great Railway System." "What is the
Reason," said I, "that the Roadway I see rises out of a thick Mist
at one End, and again loses itself in a thick Mist at the other ? "
"Monopoly and Muddle freely engender Mists," responded the
Genius. Examine now," said he, "the Roadway that is bounded
with Darkness at both ends, and tell me what thou discoverest in
it." "I see a Bridge," said I, "standing in the midst of the
Roadway." " Consider it attentively," said he.

Upon a more leisurely Survey of it—a Survey which, meseemed, it
would have been well had Others made with similar Attentiveness—
I found that the Arch thereof looked shaky and insecure ; moreover,
that a Great and Irregular-shaped Cleft or Crack ran, after the
fashion of a Lightning-flash in a Painted Sea-scape, athwart the
structure thereof from Keystone to Coping. As I was regarding this j
unpleasing Portent, the Genius told me that this Bridge was at hrst
of sound and scientific construction, but that the flight of Years,
Wear and Tear, vehement Molecular Vibration, and, above all,
Negligent Supervision, had resulted in its present Ruinous Condition.

" But tell me further," said he, " what thou discoverest on it."

"I see," said I, "if my eyes and the dark Mists and Shadows
deceive me not, a Figure couched upon the Parapet of the centre
Arch thereof." As I looked more attentively, I saw that this tigure
was of a Spectral appearance, and Bony withal; albeit, its contours
were to some extent hidden by its clinging cerement-like garments,
and the equally clinging and charnel-like shades surrounding it.