Punch (59.1870)

September 3, 1870.]

PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.

101

THE BOOMPJE PAPERS.

sistible desire to dance it. 1 feel at the same time a shyness which
whispers " Don't." I feel immediately afterwards a voice which says
"This is pride, false pride. Dance! Boompje, dance!" Think to
myself that, I should like to try it alone in a side-room first. Of course
to ask for this accommodation is out of the question.

I look around. Yes, there is Miss Millar near her mother. She is
not dancing. " Come desperation lend thy furious hold." Faint heart
never danced fair Mazurka.

Eroggey would a-dancing go, whether Miss Millar's mother
wouldn't or no.

Ail these quotations, adapted, oddly enough flit through my mind as
I come up and say, " May I have the, &c. &c," mumble, mumble.

She declines. I rush on my fate and exert pressure. She declines
again, feebly. I become impassioned, nay, determined, as the chance
of dancing becomes fainter and fainter. She accepts. [N.B. I must
possess a wonderful dramatic power, facially, as it was my last look at
her made her change her mind, and accept me. Must now use more
facial expression, and look supremely happy.] She astonishes me by
iuforming me that she can't dance the Mazurka very well, and hopes
1 won't be very angry with her.

I reply, encouragingly, that, " she will soon pick it up." I add that
it isn't very difficult; and I sincerely hope it, isn't.

We commence picking it up together. Mv sword joins the dance.
I beg pardon. Must hook it up. Do so. Commence again. Sword
too heavy. The start is a difficulty. Two steps totally unconnected
with any known dance whatever, and a bump from a couple coming
round. Apology from me. Stare from them. Two steps more.
Another bump from somebody turning, apparently, the wrong way.

at the evening party fcontinued)—a plunge—the mazurka.

ecioedly not. A uniform is some-
thing to be respected, like the British
flag. (Boomp-je!) Let them find
our, what I am. (Begin to wish 1 was
in bed.)

Gooch disappears. Bund is with
people I don't know. Maullie has
been introduced to some Dutch
artists, and everyone else is dancing,
talking, or walking.

1 fix myself by a door, and begin
to indulge in bitter thoughts of the
world at large. What an ass 1 was
(1 think to myself) to be persuaded to
come in uniform. It's my con-
founded good-nature. Dear me !—
two ladies from England, »hom I've
met before.

Miss Howker, quite the belle of
t he ball, and Miss Millar with her
mother.

Miss Howker quite surprised to
see me here. She is talking to a

Irench gentleman with a red nband sljght apoiogy from me. Anathema 1 fancy from them. A couple

and an order m his button-hole; she goes, on talking after she has ; starfs bebind tbeir starting puts mystarting out. I frown on them,

said she is so surprised. Can t enter into their conversation, as 1 don t and orjserve to my partner, that it is astonishing people can't keep out,

know what it s about. All1 can do is tc.smile on them, patromsingiy. of the wav in a" ball-room. She says, "Yes, some people are so

The distinguished foreigner is evidently puzzled; so is she 1 stupid.» £ agree witll ber. i propose going to another part, of the

smile agam; f.dont know why but rather as it to say, Isri t this ; room and comraeDCmg again. We go there. It is certainly clearer

funny, isn t this just like me t lhat is if she views my uniform m , until we commeriCe our 8tep9> wben everybody seems suddenly to arrive

that light i on the spot. I determine to start and go the whole Boompje, or perish

1 feel that many eyes are upon me and eye-glasses too. Ihe general in fue attempt- We take tw0 steps witb what feet, r don>t know i

opinion (1 a so feel this irom little things I hear said m various , feel a sort of gairamc tremor, from my boots upwards. Then one
quarters) is that i am an eccentric Englishman connected with the Fost | foot wLU stick doWDj wbi]e tbe other comes up out of timCi We
Office," and that the uniform is common enough in London. Une do something which is intended for a hop, and turns out a jump. We
French lady explains to a German that 1 am an alderman. Muntley, stragg]e together, with clasped hands, somehow, as if we were trying the
who has been taking champagne, insists upon addressing me as My strength of our wrists, and we manage to turn round in a sort of un-
Lord Mayor, and bowing obsequiously. I beg him not to play the ; easy jig> like ecstalic orgaQ ngure8, and then I come down with a
fool. He leaves me. I hope he won t go and spread it about that decided stamp 0Q somebody's train.

I'm the Lord Mayor. A sharp crisp sounding tear. I apologise with one leg in the air,

There is an undoubted Englishman m the corner with large whiskers bayi h|ted it to do the bop Apoiogy scarcely acknowledged. I hear
and. moustache eyeing me indignantly. 1 return his look with indig- ni1imbled words like "gauche" "stupid," "doesn't know how to
nation. We shall have words, belore, as Gooch would say, lean dance " and so forth

wi?k W*?ye'"J{ 1 don'fc, take,ca™- L. , . , T , ! Miss Millar thinks we'd better stop. I think so too, but I won't.

I tell Miss Howker about, the Contingent, which 1 am bound to say, {Boomp ;e !} No we >n. bave anot,her turn round. We try : and come
she does not believe, and I add that I am going to Aldershot to join j sharpiv backwards on Gooch and his partner. They are laughing,
the Rifles for drill. (Boomp-je !) Lt me\ j know it- should have done this turn well but for that. As

Gooch coming Up at this moment, says, Do you all the good m itis j finish myDext attempt at, a hop and a slide by kicking Miss
the world, old fellow; fine you down a bit/ Millar. We stop. I beg a hundred thousand pardons, a million.

I smile at Gooch pityingly, to give Miss Howker the idea that I Good gracious. I didn't mean—heavens-

only tolerate him, and that 1 don t want fining down. Ihe Mazurka « u doesa>r, niatter—it was an accident," she replies, and asks to be
strikes up. Shall I (not knowing the Mazurka except by having taken to her Mamma. I protest against this. While I am protesting
sera it) risk it with Miss Howker, and so cut out, boocH, or not r- e are ^mped ,,nree times in dlfferent directions, and are finally

If I do, it will probably terminate amicable relations forever between cann01ied into the crowd; wbere we do more struggling and tumbling,
Miss Howker and myself. But still. . . . Boomp-je ! . . . les. i being finally landed near a sort of mantel-piece, on which we both lean,
might boompje through it. ■ exhausted

„ £00cth ^ys' tthen 1 h!iIP, ^ & tb«7ords on tbe ^ n,y tongue j- ap0|()gise agaill for kicking her. Quite an accident, I say ; of
" May I Miss Howker? and Miss Howker consults her card, and ' CQ* ^ d[dn.f> e l on| took her out to kick her_ « Won>t

finding she has at least six names down tor this one dance, settles the gbe jla^e any refresbment "
difficulty by accepting Gooch . No, she'11 go to her mother, please.

I spile disdainfully as they leave me, iaughmg. At what are „hey : j fgd what ghe ,n to ner mother of me_
laughing ? At whom ? Muntley, passing me at, this moment, with a ; j \^ fler Dack_ ghe bows distantly, and I know that henceforth
French lady on his arm bows, and says, / espere que vous etes \ mountaius separate me from Miss Millar.

heureux, mi lord Maire. I frown. I hate such tomfoolery. Will speak | -j- retire gradu.ally, and join a convivial party (Matjllie among the

number) in the supper-room.

to him alone, seriously

There are some moments when, if I looked in the glass, I should
expect to see myself pale and haggard, with dark dank hair hanging
about anyhow. I do look into the glass and I see—but no matter.
" Time writes no wrinkle on thy something brow," as the poet says of
the sea : and as he did say it of the sea, he might as well have written
" winkle " instead of " wrinkle " a notion that I shall put forward in
my earliest collection of Boompje Poems.

I watch the Mazurka. A great man has said, we can always learn
something from somebody. Which means, we can always learn any-
thing from anybody. Now here are a lot of anybodies and somebodies
teaching me, unconsciously, the Mazurka.

It seems to me, observing this, that you must go a little back like a
wave on the shingle (Poetical Boompje) with a view to coming well
forward again like (also) a wave (same one) on the shingle. That you
then hop—or jump—and then slide. Watching the different couples, 1
can't make out whether you hop first, or slide first. I feel an irre-

" Dancing, old boy ? " asks Matjllie.
"No," I reply, carelessly; "at least only just one turn. Too
crowded."

We sup, and return to the hotel, where we discuss our next move.

" Sweet Remembrancer."

" Mere boys are sent to the War." Happy English lads, be thankful
that the only Campaign you are allowed to share is Elecampane—and
moral—Don't eat too much of lhat.

a thought on the twelfth.

Just now some people are thinking of the Teutons, others of the
Gauls, and a third and not inconsiderable number of the—Moors.

Vol. 59.