Punch or The London charivari (3.1842)

iii.-the haunts of the r e g f. nt-s I r e et lounger. | " Beang."

As we wish our Physiology to be strictly English, we cannot make j Or the dialogue may go on thus :—
particular mention of the foreigners who saunter along the trottoir " Garsong—donnay moi un petit toss du caffayet un peu de l'eau da
of Regent-street; hut the nearest approach to them is— vie—par beaucoup."

" Oui, monsieur: une d'mie tasse et un p't'cerre."
"Et une papier des nouvelles."
"Plait-il, monsieur?"

(Louder) "Une papier—des nouveautes—comprenay voo ?"
" Oui, monsieur."

The waiter departs, and not exactly understanding that the visitor
means a newspaper, brings him a paper of bonbons.

But when the journal is procured, and the same "garsong" says to
him, " I will take zat paper after you, sare, if you please," he begins
to think that he might just as well have spoken English, and feels as
wo did on our first visit to Boulogne (to which place we ci ossed one day
from Ramsgate to say we had been to France, and on which account
we have affected to call it Bou-Zoyne ever since), when having sum-
moned up courage to plunge into the pastrycook's shop at the corner
of the Rue Neuve Chaussee, and address the young lady therein pre-
siding with " Avez-vous de l'eau de soda S" received as a reply :—
" Oh, yes, sir, plenty of soda-water."

Tiie pleasures of the Regent-street lounger are attained at a very
small outlay of capital. He loves the shop-windows, looking upon
them as gratuitous exhibitions of curious articles, and thinks that
Ackermaun, Fores, Stocken, and other card-case and caricature mer-
chants, deserve a piece of plate from the loungers (if they could only
and, having returned in safety, goes any lengths to gratify his am- afford the subscription) in return for the very cheap amusement
bition of being thought a Frenchman. He inclines to a shady frock- whicli their establishments offer. And we may here observe that the
coat of napless cloth, with a collar of half an inch in depth ; light Taglioni, in spite of its alleged resemblance to a coal-sack fitted up
cloth brodequins, with patent leather tips ; grey pantaloons puckered with buttons and sleeves, is an article of dress which must have been
in at the waist, and fitting as closely to the boots as a coloured stock- 1 invented expressly for these loungers. Thrusting their hands and
ing with the toes cut off; and a fifteeu-franc velvet hat. His hair half their little walking-sticks into the front slanting pockets, up to
wants cutting very badly, and his mustachios join his beard at the their elbows, thev bid defiance to the thieves, and are not driven to the
angles of his mouth—the whole contour of his face somewhat re- trouble of perpetually sounding their coat-tails to see if their hand-
sembling a lion's head, with a capillary knocker thereunto attached, kerchiefs and cigar-cases are safe, whilst they admire the last portrait
"The gentleman who has been to Paris" is addicted to Very's, of Attila, the latest conceit of H.B.'s graphic pencil, the writing-case
because it is an approximation to a French Cafe, and he can read : adorned with the graceful Cerito dancing the Lithuanienne, the litho-
the foreign papers with an air of understanding them. He addresses 1 graphs innumerable of Carlotta Grisi in Giselle, the etching for
the garcon in an Anglo-Gallican dialect, although the man speaks Landseer's next picture of canine perfection, or the mighty steam-
English quite as well as himself: and this is about the average style 1 on [ts fearful course over the wild waters of the Atlantic.

The covered passage through which the overland journey from

THE GENTLFM IN WHO HAS BFFN TO PARIS,

of the dialogue

" Garsong
" Oui, monsieur."
" Esker vooz avez des glass ?"
" Oui, monsieur."
" Quel glass away voo ? "
"Monsieur—voila la carte."

Burlington Gardens to Piccadilly is generally performed, so abounds
in objects of amusement to the lounger, that, in point of cheap happi-
ness, it becomes a perfect Burlington Arcadia. He can pass a whole
afternoon therein, with the additional comfortable feeling of security
from any unexpected shower. First of all he makes a regular inspec-
tion of every article in Delaporte's windows—from Gavarni's Charivari
sketches, whicli have been there as far as the memory of the oldest
lounger can reach, to the droll Diableries, and the "Dames et Seigneurs
de la four du Moyen Age" who rushed into publicity at the first whisper
of the Queen's Fancy Ball. Then he listens to the dulcet notes of an
accordion, which is perpetually playing in this favoured thoroughfare,
whilst he saunters on to the fancy-stationer's, and criticizes the
water-colour albuinified views of Venice and Constantinople, all
neutral tint and burnt sienna ; or falls in love with the impassioned
head of La Esmeralda, and regrets such symmetrical young ladies do
not dance about the streets at the present day ; his attention only
being withdrawn from the beautiful gipsy by two portraits of mortal
angels in very low dresses, one of whom is asleep at one corner of the
window, and the second combing her hair at the other. He peers
into all the artificial flower-shops, to see what hidden divinities are
therein concealed by the bowers of tinted gauze and tinsel; and hav-
ing admired the languishing ladies and very nice gentlemen in the
hairdressers' windows—the latter of whom are beautiful samples of
that highest popular style of handsome vulgarity, the black-hair, red-
cheeks, and white-teeth school—he reads the backs of all the foreign
works imported by Jeffs : and finally loses himself in an earthly para-
dise of painted snuff-boxes, parasols, popular music, and peifumery ;
together with certain articles of ladies' dress, like dolls' pillows in
convulsions, the display of which has always struck us as being a pro-
fane revelation of the arcana pertaining to the toilet of a beauty.
Arriving at the Piccadilly end of the Arcade, he stauds awhile upon
the steps, tapping his boot with his stick, and wondering what can be
the use of the tall blue beadles who are supposed to guard the en-
trance ; until having been hailed successively by the conductors of
every omnibus that has passed, who thinks he is waiting for one of
Ah ! beang ! donuay moi une glass der framboys et une caraffon their vehicles, he turns back again, ami looks at everything ouce
de l'eau froid." more—the saunter receives fresh charms fxOHQ Ifce tirdi r of inspection

" Oui, monsieur; une carafe cTeau fraickcy" • reversed.