Punch (51.1866)

26

PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.


[July 21, L606.

EVENINGS FROM HOME.

At the Adelphi. In the Stalls.

Young Man (wishing to he considered “about town” and glad to nod
and be nodded to as often as possible). How do ? {To Musical Friend.)

Musical Amateur {nodding to a Military Fatron of the drama). How
do ? Come to see Helen, eh ?

Military Fatron {who has always seen everything in Paris). Ya-as.
{Nods to Young Man, who returns it with a pleased smile, and then looks
round defiantly at the audience? I saw it when it was done in Paris.

Musical Amateur {acknowledging his superiority). Oh, ah ! {Apologises
for himself.1) I didn’t. {Makes a further apology.) It was going on at
the time, when I was there, hut somehow or other—I—er—{Loses
himself, and refers to his bill.)

Young Man {wishing to join in the conversation says to Military Patron,
feebly). Was it good in Paris ?

Military Patron {staring through his lorgnettes at Private Box). Eh?
{Young Man repeats his question, diffidently.) Oh, yes! capital. Schneider
always excellent.

Young Man [rashly). Oh, always. {The only knowledge of any Schneider
at all that he has is of Rip Van Winkle’s dog ; but this he keeps to him-
self. Plunges in further for the sake of his reputation?) There’s such a
“go” about French actors. {He’s o?ice seen a provincial company at
Boulogne, when he was there for three days.)

Military Patron. Yes ; but Schneider is inimitable.

Young Man {making his last rash step). Yes, we haven’t got anything
like him here.

Military Patron {astonished). Him ? Wliom ?

Young Man {intuitivelyfeeling that he’s made a mess of it, somehow).
Why, whatshisname, Schneider.

Military Patron {scornfully). Why, my dear fellow, she’s a woman.

Young Man (getting very hot and uncomfortable). A woman! . . . .
{desperately) Oh ! The Schneider I meant was a man.

Military Patron {pursuing his enemy to his trenches). Never heard of
him ! Where did he play ?

Young Man {getting out of Ms trenches, and running away altogether).
I don’t exactly recollect. I don’t think I should know the name if you
told me : it’s so long ago.

The Curtain rises. We welcome Old Paul as the venerable CalchaA,
pretty, piquante Miss Furtado as Helen, and cleverest, most graceful
Mns. Mellon as Paris.

Musical Amateur {to a friend sitting between him and Military Patron).
I suppose you know the music of this ? {Dialogue going on on the stage.
Friend says “No,” and listens.) Now, you’ll hear a pretty thing.
{Hums the first air before Miss Furtado commences, just to give his
friend an idea of it?)

Quiet Friend {not wishing to be rude). Ah, yes ! {Smiles and nods?)
H-sssh!

Musical Amateur {after a time). The tune which was most popular in
Paris was—{hums the tune which was most popular in Paris. Friend in-
wardly determines to change his stall for the Second Act.)

Military Patron. Aw! Entr’acte {depreciatively), it’s not the same
thing as ’twas in Paris. [N.B. He would have said this even if the
English version had been twenty twenty times better done than the
French.]

Quiet Friend. Schneider and Dupuis are exceptions even in Paris.

Military Patron {not exactly understanding him). Ya-as. {Pause;
during which he deliberates on nothing, and gives his decision.) Ya-as.

Quiet Friend. Well, Toole’s Meneldus is immensely funny : Menelaus
in the original was nothing.

Military Patron {admitting it, helplessly). Well, ya-as. {Recollecting
his young friend’s discomfiture?) You ’ve seen it in Paris ? Eh ?

Quiet Friend {more quietly than ever). Yes, I have : several times.
Have you ?

Military Patron {frightened). Ya-as; partly. {Confused? Not ex-
actly all of it: came in after dinner, you know. Ya-as ; greater part
of it. {Collapses. Joy of Young Friend, who has overheard the con-
versation. )

Quiet Friend. It is the fashion with some people, who stop in Paris
for one week, perhaps, in the year, and who can’t follow the rapid dia-
logue of the plays they nightly rush to see, to disparage English acting,
of which they know, probably, very little, as compared with French
acting, of which they know jus. nothing at all. Then they take credit
to themselves for “ a pretty good acquaintance with the language,”
and being “accustomed to French theatres,” whereas the idiots can
scarcely speak two words of the language, and are utterly stranded
without constant reference to a phrase-book.

Military Patron {forgetting himself). Oui. C’est vrai. {And then
they all attend to Act II.)

THE VISION OE THE WORKHOUSE BEADLE.

PoRK-chops for supper I esteem;

But arter which it warn’t no dream !

A man must sleep as well as sup
To dream a dream—but I was hup !

What makes my hair stand up on end F
My woice stick in my jaws F
Memory—memory ! Attend,

And you shall know the cause.

I seed him—yes, I seed him plain !

’Twas at the corner of a lane :

Upon my life ’tis true !

Though all was dark as pitch that night,

I seed him—in his own blue light—

As plain as I sees you !

The Westry ad been werry ot,

And I had gone and ad my pot,

But sober as a Judge need be,

A smokin of my yard of clay,

A walking home—there—in my way—

There—right afore me—there stood he ,

He that to name his name I fears.

For talk about im he appears !

I know’d im by his glarin eyes,

His orns, his oofs, his wings, in size
As might be of a normus bat,

His colour black as this ere at;

Ay, this ere at—without the lace—

The orrid grin of that ere face !

His mouth just like a grate red -ot,

Which fangs like iron spikes he’d got,

I know’d him by his crooked nails,

And by his ide all over scales.

His arrer-pinted tail—his prong.

—I see a flash of fire—I hear
The sound of, as it were, a gong
And boh, he did appear !

The sight so scared me I sprung back.

And bumped agin a post, right smack !

And with the shock I broke my pipe.

He come—I bobbed—he missed Ins gripe
Down on my marrowbones I prayed
In hagony for Mercy’s aid.

He wanished in a flash of flame.

And then a glorious hangel came,

And said, “ Here’s Mercy at your call,

Though you don’t merit none at all.

This mornin, at the Workus door,

You druv my Sister from the Poor.”

Says I, “ I won’t do so no more.”

“ No; mind you don’t,” said she.

“ For if agin you ever do,

Next time as Somevun comes for you,

Expect no help from me.”

A CHEER FOR CLAN HALPIN.

Omens follow those who note them. And “ we defy augury.”
These are things to say when unfavourable omens occur, and unwise
persons allude to them. But when a grand enterprise is preceded by
a gallant deed on the part of one of the undertakers, it may be per-
mitted, in a spirit of the most intense and Lord-Stanleyite coolness, to
say that the probabilities of sucoess seem increased when the work is
seen to be in the hands of brave and daring men. We wish all good
fortune to the monster vessel now engaged in laying the Atlantic
Telegraph. We cannot help feeling that, in the above sense, a good
omen has occurred, in the gallant deed of which Lieutenant Halpin
is perhaps the only man in the country who thinks lightly. We read
that a sailor, charged with a difficult duty aloft, lost his head, and
would have been dashed to pieces, but for Lieutenant Halpin, who
rushed to the rescue, climbed the rope, supported the fainting man,
and held on, over the yawning abyss in which the gigantic machinery
was working, until help was afforded. No noble thing that a true
British sailor does can much surprise his countrymen; but it, is fitting
that Lieutenant Halpin and all.the rest of the world should be told
that when Paterfamilias read this story at the breakfast table, an
electric current of enthusiasm set in for the great ship, and all on
board, who will, we think, be proud to be called the Clan Halpin.




“Party Ties.”—White Chokers.