DOI Heft:
January to June, 1852
DOI Seite / Zitierlink: https://doi.org/10.11588/diglit.16609#0099
PUNCH. OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.
91
Awful Contortion of the Face produced by the constant Use of
an Eye-glass.
MRS. BAKER'S PET.
the pet on an excubsion.
Mr. Baker {sotto voce). That infernal dog !
Irritable Elderly Gentleman. Er, you brute, get out!—{makes wild stabs
at him with his umbrella). There, Sir ! (foMfi, Baker)—Do you see that,
Sir ? {pointing to his boots)—all your nasty dirty beast of a dog, Sir.
Mrs. Baker {appealing to Mr. Baker's self-respect). Mr. Baker,
do you mean to take notice of this language. Sir, or not ?
Mr. Baker. It's not us he's abusing, my dear, it's the dog: and I
must say—
Mrs. Baker {contemptuously). Oh ! of course, Jam to be insulted with
impunity ! Of course—Oh, the horrid old man ! He'll kill my dog !
[Irritable Elde rly Gentleman, baffled in his attempts on Scamp's
life by the agility of the Bet, is reduced to shaking his umbrella
at him impotently, and calling him bad names.
Mr. Baker. Stop—I must get the tickets—you see to the luggage.
[Mrs. Baker leaves the luggage to take care of itself, and devotes
her energies to the protection of Scamp from the infuriated Old
Gentleman ; at last she succeeds, and concealing the Bet beneath
her shawl, hurries on to the platform, where she is rejoined by
Mr. Baker.
****** *
Interior of a first-class carriage, with the train in motion. By one of
those strokes of good fortune reserved for pleasure excursionists,
Mr. and Mrs. Baker and the Irritable Elderly Gentle-
man find themselves occupants of the same carriage.
Mr. Baker {aside to Mrs. Baker, confidentially). You see, my dear,
the sort of thing you will always be exposed to, if you travel with that
dog of yours.
Mrs. Baker. Now—Mr. Baker! as if it was I who gave the poor
thing such an affectionate heart—that it must follow the omnibus all
the way from Notting Hill!
Irritable Elderly Gentleman {who is one of those pleasant persons who,
having hit upon a raw, insists on irritating it.) Yes, Sir—there ougrht
to be a law, Sir, that people carrying those nasty dirty dogs about with
them ought to be sent to the treadmill.
Mr. Baker. Once for all—Sir—I tell you—it wasn't my fault if my
wife's dog jumped into the omnibus, and dirtied your boots.
[Scamp's tail suddenly protrudes from under Mrs. Baker's shawl,
wagging violently.
Irritable Elderly Gentleman {perceiving it). There, Sir ! and I suppose
you'll next tell me it's not your fault if your wife brings her infernal
nasty dog into a first-class carriage, Sir?
Mr. Baker {calmly). Certainly I should, Sir; for I'm sure my wife
wouldn't do anything half so rude or silly.
Mrs. Baker {consciously and humbly). Oh, my dear, I had taken him
up, to keep him out of the way of this gentleman, and then the bell
rang, and you hurried me off to the train, and I hadn't time to put
him down, and—
Mr. Baker. You don't mean to say you have got him in here ?
[Scamp announces his presence and his icant of air by a succession
of whines and uneasy movements, and availing himself of
Mrs. Baker's momentary confusion at the discovery, escapes
from her arms, and proceeds to execute a series of gambols over
and about the legs of the Irritable Elderly Gentleman.
Irritable Elderly Gentleman {taking deadly aim at Scamp with his
boots, while he apostrophises Mr. and Mrs. Baker), Er —you brute !
A pretty thing, indeed !—beast ! First-class carriage ! Er !—
Exposed to this sort of thing!—you ought to be ashamed of your-
self, Sir. It's illegal. Confound the nasty animal! Yah—{he launches
Scene 8.—Mr. Baker, having a week's holiday, has gallantly proposed to
Mrs. Baker a pleasure excursion to the Isle of Wight. lie has been
gradually becoming hardened in the matter of the Bet, who is still,
however, generally kept out of his way by Mrs. Baker. Mr. and
Mrs. Baker are proceeding to the Waterloo Station, in the omnibus,
which is inconveniently full.
Irritable and Elderly Gentleman {at the door). Any room, Conductor?
Conductor. Jump in, Sir.
[fl'he misguided Old Gentleman is coaxed on to the step, lugged
into the door, and hustled, hoisted, jostled, thrust, handed, and
precipitated into the uncomfortable cross seat at the extremity
of the 'bus, where Mr. Baker is his neighbour on one side and
Mrs. Baker on the other.
Irritable Elderly Gentleman {to Mr. Baker). Sir, your knees are in
my breechrs pocket.
[In the rattle of the'bus the words are indistinctly heard ; but there
is a general impression that the Elderly Gentleman has
found Mr. Baker's hand in his pocket.
Nervous Female (with baby and basket). Oh, gracious! a pickpocket
in the 'bus ! Stop ! Conductor!
[A general uneasiness is produced by everybody's simultaneous effort
to ^et his or her hand into his or her pocket, to see 'if his or her
money is safe.
Mr. Baker (to Irritable Elderly Gentleman). How dare you, Sir,
charge me with anything of the kind, Sir?
Irritable Elderly Gentleman. I didn't—it's these asses of passengers
—I said " your knee."
[The passengers are not at all sure that Mr. Bake r is what he ought
to b°.; but, as no purse is found missing, the matter drops, and \ a terrible kick at Scamp, which missing him, meets the innocent shin of
Mr. Baker is left to devour his wrath silently. | Mr. Baker).
Irritable Elderly Gentleman (to Mrs. Baker). If you could, conve
niently, take a little of your weight off my shoulders, Ma'am ?
Mr. Baker. Sir ! the lady is as much inconvenienced by the crowding
as you are.
Irritable Elderly Gentleman. I and the lady are the best judges of
that. Sir. Perhaps you'd better let her speak for herself.
Mr. Baker. The lady is my wife, Sir!
Irritable Elderly Gentleman. Is she, Sir ? (Between his teeth.) Can't
say much for your taste, Sir. (Sharply to Mr. Baker.) You're treading
on my boots, Sir !
[N.B.—Bright boots are this generally sore Old Gentleman's sorest
point.
Mrs. baker (to Irritable Elderly Gentleman). I think, Sir, in a
public vehicle, a little mutual accommodation—
Irritable Elderly Gentleman. Well, Ma'am, I've accommodated you
with a pillow all the way, and you might have accommodated me with
a little more room for my legs, Ma'am. But, thank goodness, here we
are !—(the 'buspulls up).
Conductor (opening the door). Wart—loo—stash'n!
[As the door opens, the faithful Scamp—who has followed the 'bus
all the way from Bayswater, through very muddy streets—rushes
in, and effects a passage to his beloved mistress, over the legs and
feet of the passengers, leaving well-defined prints of his paws on
the bright boots of the Irritable Elderly Gentleman.
Mrs. Baker (overjoyed). Scamp, poor fellow !—down, sir—down !
Mr. Baker (howling with pain). What do you mean by that, Sir?
Irritable hlderly Gentleman. It was meant for your infernal dog,
Sir. Serves you right, Sir. I'm glad it hit you.
Mr. Baker. You 're an ill-bred old ruffian, Sir.
Irritable Elderly Gentleman. Pooh, Sir !—(snaps his fingers).
Mrs. Baker (in dread of the imminent collision). Oh, my dear !—oh,
Sir !—Pray—I'm very sorry—
Irritable Elderly Gentleman. Don't talk to me, Ma'am ! It's against
the bye-laws, Ma'am ! You're liable to forty shillings fine. And as sure
as my name's Growley, I'll inform against you, Sir, at the next
station, and have you taken into custody, Sir. And here we are at the
Claremont and Esher Station, Sir. [The train stops.
[The Irritable Elderly Gentleman rushes out in a state of fury,
followed by the equally furious Mr. Baker, the joyous Scamp,
and the agonised and conscience-stricken Mrs. Baker.
Irritable Elderly Gentleman. Hollo—hoy (to Railway Foliceman)—
Catch that dog. I've a complaint—where's the station-master?—
Under the bye-laws—It's a dog—(the Railway Policeman, No. 1, has
caught Scamp.)—Here, I give this man into custody.
[Railway Policeman, No. 2, collars Mr. Baker.
Mr. Baker. I'll have an action against you for false imprisonment,
you old scoundrel—1 will!
Mrs. Baker. Oh dear—oh dear! _ [The bell rings.
Mr. Baker. There's ttie train going off—Here ! we shall lose it.
[Struggles to extricate himself.
91
Awful Contortion of the Face produced by the constant Use of
an Eye-glass.
MRS. BAKER'S PET.
the pet on an excubsion.
Mr. Baker {sotto voce). That infernal dog !
Irritable Elderly Gentleman. Er, you brute, get out!—{makes wild stabs
at him with his umbrella). There, Sir ! (foMfi, Baker)—Do you see that,
Sir ? {pointing to his boots)—all your nasty dirty beast of a dog, Sir.
Mrs. Baker {appealing to Mr. Baker's self-respect). Mr. Baker,
do you mean to take notice of this language. Sir, or not ?
Mr. Baker. It's not us he's abusing, my dear, it's the dog: and I
must say—
Mrs. Baker {contemptuously). Oh ! of course, Jam to be insulted with
impunity ! Of course—Oh, the horrid old man ! He'll kill my dog !
[Irritable Elde rly Gentleman, baffled in his attempts on Scamp's
life by the agility of the Bet, is reduced to shaking his umbrella
at him impotently, and calling him bad names.
Mr. Baker. Stop—I must get the tickets—you see to the luggage.
[Mrs. Baker leaves the luggage to take care of itself, and devotes
her energies to the protection of Scamp from the infuriated Old
Gentleman ; at last she succeeds, and concealing the Bet beneath
her shawl, hurries on to the platform, where she is rejoined by
Mr. Baker.
****** *
Interior of a first-class carriage, with the train in motion. By one of
those strokes of good fortune reserved for pleasure excursionists,
Mr. and Mrs. Baker and the Irritable Elderly Gentle-
man find themselves occupants of the same carriage.
Mr. Baker {aside to Mrs. Baker, confidentially). You see, my dear,
the sort of thing you will always be exposed to, if you travel with that
dog of yours.
Mrs. Baker. Now—Mr. Baker! as if it was I who gave the poor
thing such an affectionate heart—that it must follow the omnibus all
the way from Notting Hill!
Irritable Elderly Gentleman {who is one of those pleasant persons who,
having hit upon a raw, insists on irritating it.) Yes, Sir—there ougrht
to be a law, Sir, that people carrying those nasty dirty dogs about with
them ought to be sent to the treadmill.
Mr. Baker. Once for all—Sir—I tell you—it wasn't my fault if my
wife's dog jumped into the omnibus, and dirtied your boots.
[Scamp's tail suddenly protrudes from under Mrs. Baker's shawl,
wagging violently.
Irritable Elderly Gentleman {perceiving it). There, Sir ! and I suppose
you'll next tell me it's not your fault if your wife brings her infernal
nasty dog into a first-class carriage, Sir?
Mr. Baker {calmly). Certainly I should, Sir; for I'm sure my wife
wouldn't do anything half so rude or silly.
Mrs. Baker {consciously and humbly). Oh, my dear, I had taken him
up, to keep him out of the way of this gentleman, and then the bell
rang, and you hurried me off to the train, and I hadn't time to put
him down, and—
Mr. Baker. You don't mean to say you have got him in here ?
[Scamp announces his presence and his icant of air by a succession
of whines and uneasy movements, and availing himself of
Mrs. Baker's momentary confusion at the discovery, escapes
from her arms, and proceeds to execute a series of gambols over
and about the legs of the Irritable Elderly Gentleman.
Irritable Elderly Gentleman {taking deadly aim at Scamp with his
boots, while he apostrophises Mr. and Mrs. Baker), Er —you brute !
A pretty thing, indeed !—beast ! First-class carriage ! Er !—
Exposed to this sort of thing!—you ought to be ashamed of your-
self, Sir. It's illegal. Confound the nasty animal! Yah—{he launches
Scene 8.—Mr. Baker, having a week's holiday, has gallantly proposed to
Mrs. Baker a pleasure excursion to the Isle of Wight. lie has been
gradually becoming hardened in the matter of the Bet, who is still,
however, generally kept out of his way by Mrs. Baker. Mr. and
Mrs. Baker are proceeding to the Waterloo Station, in the omnibus,
which is inconveniently full.
Irritable and Elderly Gentleman {at the door). Any room, Conductor?
Conductor. Jump in, Sir.
[fl'he misguided Old Gentleman is coaxed on to the step, lugged
into the door, and hustled, hoisted, jostled, thrust, handed, and
precipitated into the uncomfortable cross seat at the extremity
of the 'bus, where Mr. Baker is his neighbour on one side and
Mrs. Baker on the other.
Irritable Elderly Gentleman {to Mr. Baker). Sir, your knees are in
my breechrs pocket.
[In the rattle of the'bus the words are indistinctly heard ; but there
is a general impression that the Elderly Gentleman has
found Mr. Baker's hand in his pocket.
Nervous Female (with baby and basket). Oh, gracious! a pickpocket
in the 'bus ! Stop ! Conductor!
[A general uneasiness is produced by everybody's simultaneous effort
to ^et his or her hand into his or her pocket, to see 'if his or her
money is safe.
Mr. Baker (to Irritable Elderly Gentleman). How dare you, Sir,
charge me with anything of the kind, Sir?
Irritable Elderly Gentleman. I didn't—it's these asses of passengers
—I said " your knee."
[The passengers are not at all sure that Mr. Bake r is what he ought
to b°.; but, as no purse is found missing, the matter drops, and \ a terrible kick at Scamp, which missing him, meets the innocent shin of
Mr. Baker is left to devour his wrath silently. | Mr. Baker).
Irritable Elderly Gentleman (to Mrs. Baker). If you could, conve
niently, take a little of your weight off my shoulders, Ma'am ?
Mr. Baker. Sir ! the lady is as much inconvenienced by the crowding
as you are.
Irritable Elderly Gentleman. I and the lady are the best judges of
that. Sir. Perhaps you'd better let her speak for herself.
Mr. Baker. The lady is my wife, Sir!
Irritable Elderly Gentleman. Is she, Sir ? (Between his teeth.) Can't
say much for your taste, Sir. (Sharply to Mr. Baker.) You're treading
on my boots, Sir !
[N.B.—Bright boots are this generally sore Old Gentleman's sorest
point.
Mrs. baker (to Irritable Elderly Gentleman). I think, Sir, in a
public vehicle, a little mutual accommodation—
Irritable Elderly Gentleman. Well, Ma'am, I've accommodated you
with a pillow all the way, and you might have accommodated me with
a little more room for my legs, Ma'am. But, thank goodness, here we
are !—(the 'buspulls up).
Conductor (opening the door). Wart—loo—stash'n!
[As the door opens, the faithful Scamp—who has followed the 'bus
all the way from Bayswater, through very muddy streets—rushes
in, and effects a passage to his beloved mistress, over the legs and
feet of the passengers, leaving well-defined prints of his paws on
the bright boots of the Irritable Elderly Gentleman.
Mrs. Baker (overjoyed). Scamp, poor fellow !—down, sir—down !
Mr. Baker (howling with pain). What do you mean by that, Sir?
Irritable hlderly Gentleman. It was meant for your infernal dog,
Sir. Serves you right, Sir. I'm glad it hit you.
Mr. Baker. You 're an ill-bred old ruffian, Sir.
Irritable Elderly Gentleman. Pooh, Sir !—(snaps his fingers).
Mrs. Baker (in dread of the imminent collision). Oh, my dear !—oh,
Sir !—Pray—I'm very sorry—
Irritable Elderly Gentleman. Don't talk to me, Ma'am ! It's against
the bye-laws, Ma'am ! You're liable to forty shillings fine. And as sure
as my name's Growley, I'll inform against you, Sir, at the next
station, and have you taken into custody, Sir. And here we are at the
Claremont and Esher Station, Sir. [The train stops.
[The Irritable Elderly Gentleman rushes out in a state of fury,
followed by the equally furious Mr. Baker, the joyous Scamp,
and the agonised and conscience-stricken Mrs. Baker.
Irritable Elderly Gentleman. Hollo—hoy (to Railway Foliceman)—
Catch that dog. I've a complaint—where's the station-master?—
Under the bye-laws—It's a dog—(the Railway Policeman, No. 1, has
caught Scamp.)—Here, I give this man into custody.
[Railway Policeman, No. 2, collars Mr. Baker.
Mr. Baker. I'll have an action against you for false imprisonment,
you old scoundrel—1 will!
Mrs. Baker. Oh dear—oh dear! _ [The bell rings.
Mr. Baker. There's ttie train going off—Here ! we shall lose it.
[Struggles to extricate himself.