Punch: Punch (60.1871)

PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. [April 8, 1871.

THE "ROUND OF THE STUDIOS."

Male Dilettante, No. 1 (malein g a telescope of his hand). "What I Like so much is that—ee—that-"

Ditto No. 2 (with his nose almost touching the canvass). " I know what you Mean—that broad—ee-"

Female Dilettante, No. 1 (waving her hand gently from, right to left). "Precisely. That sort of—ee—of—er--of—ee--"

Ditto No. 2. "Just so. That general sort of—ee—of—ee--"

Ditto No. 3. "0 yes—quite too Lovely—that particular kind of—ee—of—ee-■" [And so forth.

" good things for sending you to sleep." I count up to a hundred,
and am more wide awake than ever. I try a hundred backwards,
and feel quite ready to dress (if they'd only call me now) and go
out for a walk. About 2*30 I begin to wander in my mind, then for
a short time I am wakeful, then drowsy. I am saying to myself
" Now I'm going to sleep," when the Dove in next room commences
cooing. I count his cooing. He coos seven times and stops. Thank
goodness. He recommences as I am beginning to doze. I count
ten coos. I strike a light and look at my watch. 3'30 ! ! and My
Health absolutely requires a great deal of sleep. The wind subsides.
So does the Dove. I begin to wonder if ... to arrange what I '11
do to-morrow—I will —let me see—I '11—first.....

Knock at door. Hot water. Ah, yes. 7*30, Sir. Quite so. All
right. Feeble. To sleep again.

Diary of Next Day. Aunt the embodiment of the soul of punc-
tuality at breakfast. I have to apologise. Storm : new bed : Dove
—no, on second thoughts, I won't say anything about the Dove.
Delicate ground—it's a pet. Love me, love my Dove. It is trying
work for the nerves, living with my Aunt. She starts at the least
thing.

If I come into the room at all quietly, she jumps up, exclaiming,
"Ah ! I do wish you would knock, or cough before you come in."

I'm now always knocking and coughing. I knock first, look in,
and then cough. This will become a habit, if I go on with it very
long. Then, if I get tired of a book, and drop off to sleep, and the
book falls, up jumps my Aunt and presses her hand to her heart, as
if I'd shot her.

She will have the coalscuttle outside the room, so that my carrying
a scuttlefull to put on the fire is a feat not unlike Blondin's walking
on the tight-rope. It's most difficult to carry it without spilling a
coal, specially while my Aunt is saying, "Do take care," and I
know that the fall of one lump will make her give such a jump as
will be fatal to my steadiness.

If I come upon her suddenly at a turn of the stairs, she clutches
j the bannisters, she is so startled. I can't, as it were, accustom her
to my appearance. I am the Skeleton popping out of the cupboard,
the Ghost on the staircase, the Cuckoo in the clock, the Jack in
the box, anything, in fact, sudden in its movement, and startling—■
that is, as regards my Aunt. I propose, in a satirical mood (of which
I afterwards repent, but I ivas worried) that I should be perpetually
playing a trumpet, or have a bell round my neck like Charlie, the
little dog.

For me to come in by the window from the garden simply kills
her. I never saw anybody so frightened in my life. I explain that
I really did not know she was there. Doddridge, calming her, says,
" 0, Master George, you ought to be more considerate."

An Artist Out of Place.

The Morning Post announces that:—

"It has been intimated to a well-known artist that it is contrary to rules
that he should use the lobby of the House of Commons for the purpose of
sketching Members."

Nobody, one would think, could need to be informed that the
lobby of the House of Commons is not a drawing-room, although a
well-known artist appears to have been using it as a studio.

flippancy.

Any lady who speaks slightingly of Ministers of religion is not a
lady. We were much displeased with Miss Shallow (the Justice's
daughter), the other evening. Kef erring to the Purchas decision,
which pronounces the white dress to be the only legitimate garb of
the Clergy, the misguided young person said that she should hence-
! forth always call the Parsons the Surplice Population.