Punch (25.1853)

PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI

II

“ THE SOLDIERS DREAM.”

{After T. Camp-bell. By A. Camp-beau.)

THE CAMP

“Hey, Colin ! Dinna ye ken the watter’s for drink, and nae for

BATHIN ? ”

We were wet as the deuce ; for like blazes it poured,

And the sentinels’ throats were the only things dry ;

And under their tents Chobham’s heroes had cowered.

The weary to snore, and the wakeful to sigh.

While dozing that night in my camp-bed so small.

With a Mackintosh over to keep out the rain—

After one glass of grog, cold without—that was all—

I’d a dream, which 1 hope I shall ne’er have again.

Methought from damp Chobham’s mock battle-array,

I had bowled off to London, outside of a hack ;

’Twas the season, and wax-lights illumined the way
To the balls of Belgravia that welcomed me back.

I flew to the dancing-rooms, whirled through so oft
With one sweet little partner, who tendril-like clung,

I saw the grim chaperons, perched up aloft.

And heard the shrill notes Weippert’s orchestra flung.

She was there-—I would “pop ’’—and a guardsman no more,
From my sweet little partner for life ne’er wrouid part.

When sudden I saw—just conceive what a bore—

A civilian—by Jove—laying siege to her heart!

“ Out of sight, out of mind! ” It was not to be borne—

To cut her, challenge him I was rushing away—

When sudden the twang of that vile bugle-horn
Scared my visions, arousing the Camp for the day.

Spirits above Proof.

It seems that Dr. Paul Cullen and the Ultramontanists
have procured the rejection, from the Irish Rational Schools,
of the Archbishop oe Dublin’s Evidences of Christianity.
Hence it may be presumed that the “Evidences” of Arch-
bishop Whately are favourable specimens of Whately’i
logic, and afford some really sensible and satisfactory reason
for believing in the Christian religion.

OUR HONEYMOON.

FRIDAY, MAY 24, 18-.

I am not superstitions—certainly not: but when I woke this morning,
I felt as if something would happen ; though I said nothing to Fred.
With the feeling that came upon me, I wouldn’t have thought of going
to France for worlds. I felt as if a war must break out, or something.

“ I knew it; I was certain of it,” said I, when I ’d half read the letter
from home.

“ In that case,” said Fred, in the most unconcerned way, which he
will call philosophy, whereas I think it downright imprudence—but I
fear dear Mamma’s right; all men are imprudent—“ In that case, we
might have saved postage.”

_ “Now Fred, don’t be frivolous. But I see, there’ll be nothing
right at home till we get fairly back. Everything will be sacrificed.”—

“ Is that your serious belief, my love ? ” said Fred, finishing his
tea; and I nodded very decidedly.—“ Well, then, suppose we pack up
our traps and return to-day. And talking of home, you can’t think,
Lotty, what a present you’ve made me without knowing it.”

“ Have I indeed ? What present, love ? ”—

“ It was in my sleep; but then, it was one of those dreams that
always forerun the reality. Do you know I dreamt that we’d returned
home, and somehow when I tried to sit down in my chair, up 1 jumped
again; and so again and again. Whenever I tried to be quiet and stretch
my legs out at my fireside, I seemed possessed with a legion of imps
that would lift me from my seat and pull me towards the door.”—

“ Hm ! That’s a very ugly dream, Fred,” said I; and I know I
looked thoughtful.

“ Yery: but it’s wonderful how, like a tranquillizing spirit, yon
appeared upon the scene. I thought, my dear, you looked more
beautiful than is possible.”—

“ Frederick !

“ Not but what I’m quite content as it is. You know, my love, it
might have been worse.”—

“Well,” said I, “Mamma needn’t have written to me that my
houeymoon was nearly ended. It seems I’m not likely to forget
that.”

“ And when it was impossible for me to remain in the chair—when

I continued to get up and sit down, and nm here and run there—then,
as I say, yon appeared like a benevolent fairy—bearing across one arm
what seemed to me a rainbow turned to silk ; and in the other hand
carrying a pair of slippers.”

“ Well; and then ? ”—

“And then, with a thought, I had put on the morning-gown;—
for it was that you carried—and placed my feet in the slippers. There
never were more beautiful presents; never richer gifts for a wife to
make her husband. For would you think it. Dotty ? No sooner
had I wrapped the dressing-gown about me, than I became settled in
the sweetest repose in my chair: and the very walls_ of the room
seemed to make the softest music. And then the slippers! ^.Most
wonderful! Would you believe it, Lotty—wherever the slippers
touched, a flower sprang up ; flowers and aromatic herbs ! The very
hearth seemed glowing and odorous with roses and thyme. But then,
you know, it was only a dream, Lotty. There’s no such dressing-
gown—and in this world no such slippersand then—I could see
it—he looked in his odd way at me.

“ I suppose not, Fred,” said I; for I wouldn’t seem to understand
him. “ And then, if such slippers could be found, where’s the
husband’s feet to fit ’em ? ’T would be another story of the glass
slipper.”

“ Who knows when we get home ? But what’s happened F ” and
he pointed to the letter.

“Well, then, the pigeon-house has blown down; and Bnjah’s flown
away; and a strange cat has killed the gold-fish; and, in fact, Fred—
as dear Mamma writes To me ; not, as she says, she’d have^me worry
myself about the matter—in fact the house wants a mistress.”

“ I have no doubt your excellent mother is right,” said Frei> ; “ and
as yon won’t go to France, suppose we make way for The Flitch. Do
you know, Lotty, I’m curious to know it—after all—those slippers
mayn’t be found there.”

“I’ll take care of that,” said I; “but you know, Eked, we can’t go
back yet.”

“Why not?”—

“ Why, you know our houeymoon isn’t quite out; and

“And what of that? We needn’t bum all the moon from home.
What if we put the last fragment on a save-all, and see it out a.t The
Flitch ? ’