Punch: Punch (57.1869)

10G

PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.

[September 18, 18G9.

MORE HAPPY THOUGHTS.

O answer from Popgood and Groolly. Arrange to
go Lome at once and return.
5 IIappy Thought.—Plying visit will enable me to
protract my holiday; because 1 can explain that I must
return to—

1. Call on Popgood and Groolly.

2. Make arrangements for publishing, if necessary.

3. Sit for my portrait to What's-his-Name.

Happy Thought.—Have it eneraved as a frontispiece to Typ. Bevel.,
with a little slip in book, " *** Directions to Binder : Portrait to face
title-page."

4. Bound to go to Jersey. Ought to go.

5. Bound to go to Milan. Ditto.

6. And to go to Austria, and call on Count De Bootjack.

If my wife says I am too much away, that's absurd, when it's busi-
ness. Then it's absolutely necessary for my literary work.

Happy Thought.—To put down on paper Literary work in order.

Have read somewhere of orderly habits of literary men (Disraeli's
Curiosities, I think). Good plan, and divide the week and the days.

First, What work ? Typical Developments. This will probably run to
twenty vols. Notes for these (as did the author of Civilisation, History
of). It is said that portmanteaux full of notes were lost. Good plan
that, portmanteau for notes for travelling.

Second, Book of Repartees, alphabetically arranged. These require
perpetual refining and polishing.

his palfrey at the gate of Westminster Hall, observed to George
D'Arcy-"

Now what did Sovme Jenyns observe to George D'Arcy ?

*#* Anyone knowing what So.vme Jenyns said will kindly forward
the same to the Editor of the Commencements, Sfc.

As an example of Endings: "There's a capital Irish story ending
with ' Bedad, Docther, "'tis the same thing entirely.' How does this
begin ? "

"'His nose,' answered the wit. Erskine smiled at the witticism,
but never forgave the satire." How does this commence ?

I would give a trifle to remember one or two things I've said also,
but I dare say they '11 come in in time. A friend of Rawltnson's told me
the other day about somebody on a tight-rope, and I made a reply
which set everyone roaring ; there were only 11.vwlt.nson, Cazell, and
self. I couldn't write it down at the time, and two hours after I
couldn't recall it.

I ask Bawlinson ; he doesn't remember. I ask Cazell, he doesn't.
Cazell says he'll think of it, and he's got a capital thing for me
for Typ. Bevel. Will he tell it me when I return ? He '11 be away.
He's going to Busted's, in Hertfordshire to-morrow.

My Cottage is near the road, will he stop the night, and over a pipe
he could tell me all about it. He accepts.

Cazell has his luggage ready, so we start. I complain of luggage.
" I '11 tell you what you ought to do," says Cazell.

N.B. I subsequently discover that this is Cazell's peculiarity; he
is always telling people " What they ought to do." He is great ib
" dodges," and apparently there is not a single subject he is not well
up in. Most useful fellow, Cazell.

As to luggage, he says, "You ought to get one of Spanker and
Tickett's bags. Those are the men: only six guineas. Put every-
thing in 'em for a fortnight."

Happy Thought.—To say, knowingly, "That depends what you want."

Capital for repartee-book that. Put it down. I should have said it
was unanswerable if Cazell (he is a sharp fellow, Cazell) hadn't
immediately replied, "Yes; but if you take one of these bags, you
won't want anything."

Happy Thought.—Put Cazell's answer down instead of mine.
Better.

" Have you got one ? " I ask.

"No, he has not. He divides things into two lots, one for each
week. It is nearly as good."

Happy Thought.—To say, " Yes, of course," being uninterested.
I don't know what he means, and hate uninteresting explanations.

We talk about literature: chiefly Typical Beaelopments. I ask his
opinion of Popgood and Groolly. He says, "1 tell you what you
ought to have done : gone to Laxon and Ztnskin."

1 say if Popgood and Groolly fail, I Tl go to Laxon.

Happy Thought.—Wish I'd gone to Laxon.

I think Cazell (I put this note down later as an opinion) is calcu-
lated to render one dissatisfied.

" Where do you go for your hats ? " asks Cazell.

I tell him. He smiles pityingly, and shakes his head. "Why not? "
I ask.

He tells me where I ought to go to for hats.

It appears that I go to all the wrong places for gloves, shoes, boots,,
coats, shirts—everything. All the people are furnishing me with those
things who oughtn't to.

I apologise for them generally, and say, " Well, they suit me very
well."

Happy Thought.—When Cazell gets out at our Station and sees
my boy in livery (as a tiger) and my pony-trap, he won't go on givin

Third, Everybody's Country Booh. This will be a capital Shilling acivice as if 1 was nobody at all, and knew nothing about that sort of

volume, with a picture outside (my portrait again, in colours would do)
containing a quantity of valuable information on country subjects,
when I have collected it.

Fourth, Humorous Tales and Stories. I began to make a large
collection of these; that is, it would have been large only I kept
forgetting to carry about the special pocket-book with me, except at
first, so that I've only got six down. It is so difficult to recollect a
good story when you come home late at night and write it down. I've
got some commenced in the manuscript, but on looking at them I fancy
I must have fallen asleep over them. 1 have since tried to finish them.

Happy Thought.—Might publish a weekly paper of Commencements
and Endings, as a sort of Notes and Queries, and invite the public to
correspond and fill up.

Very good idea this. Will try it on friends first: try it everywhere.
The plan on paper is this—

A Comme?icemcnl.—"As Brtjmmel was one day coming out of a shop
in St. Martin's Court, an urchin who had been eagerly eyeing the
Beau, asked him for a penny. The Beau refused, telling the ragged
youngster in words less polite than forcible that he would see him at
Jericho before he would bestow upon him a stiver. The Urchin-"

Now what did the Urchin say ?

Again. " Soame Jenyns, seeing the Lord Chancellor mount

thing.

At my Station.—"Come," I say, heartily, "here's the trap waiting.
I shall be glad to get home for dinner."

" My servant here ? " I ask the Station Master, with a Iord-of-the-
manorish air.

Station Master hasn't seen him, and goes off to give some directions
to a sub-official. This apparent neglect will not impress Cazell. The
trap is not there.

lsay, " Confound that fellow James !" (Explain that James is my
groom.) The fellow James is four feet high, aged fifteen.
Happy Thought.—Better walk.

" Tell you what you ought to do," says Cazell, " you ought to have a
communication between the Station and your house, so that you could
tell 'em when you come down, and so forth."

I say it would be convenient, but how could it be done ?

He says, " Easily; write to the Manager. Represent the case
here, and to the London Superintendent, and it's done."

We meet James and the pony-trap. He is doing a full gallop, and,
on seeing us, pretends the pony has run away. Young vagabond !
Most angry at the present state of his livery, he looks so_ dirty and
disreputable (specially about the gloves, and tie), that I wish I could
pass him off as somebody else's boy.