Punch (61.1871)

34

PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.

[July 29, 1871.

MY HEALTH.

till in the Carriage.—Quite
full. We are all set-
tling- down, and making
ourselves gradually less
disagreeable to one an-
other. Every one has
brought into the carriage
a bag, a great coat, a rug,
and an umbrella, each per-
son apparently under the
impression that the same
original idea would occur
to no other passenger ex-
cept himself. A gentle-
man in the next seat
presently asks me, "How
Bath races went off this
year ?

He has not led up to
this inquiry, and I feel
somewhat taken aback. I
reply that " I do not know,
as I have not been there
this year," which, with-
out committing, me to
anything, leads him to
suppose that my absence
from this Spring Meeting
(if it is a Spring Meeting)
is a solitary exception to
my general practice.
He has evidently made
up his mind that I am a sporting character, and have got infor-
mation on various " events," which I am slily keeping to myself,
as his next question, with an apology for his own ignorance, as he
has not been long in England, is, "whether I don't think that
Scavenger 's safe for the Two Thousand ? "

Note. Sporting amusements are part of «ur national character.
Every Englishman is born a Sailor and a Sportsman. Of course,
if he doesn't keep it up after being born with these advantages, that's
his fault. Odd that it should never have struck me till now !

Mem. One really ought to read sporting papers once a week: it
wouldn't take more than a quarter of an hour to get up the names
of a few leading horses. Some men are equally ready on all subjects:
these are men who do not waste their club subscriptions.

Mem. Next to being rich, the best thing is to have the credit for
being so. Ergo, the next best thing to knowing all about every-
thing is to look as if you knew it. To say, at once, " Sir, I do not
know," or, " Sir, I am utterly and totally ignorant of the subject
you have started," would (Johnsonianly) put an end to all such
casual conversation as might beguile a journey.

I reply, with some hesitation, that " I do not feel quite certain as
to what Scavenger may do; " which is strictly true, as I 've never
even heard the animal's name before. I believe my answer will cost
this gentleman some anxious consideration, and perhaps bring about
an entire change in the betting.

He apologises again for having been absent in India for some
time, and I smile, as much as to say, " 0, don't mention it!" and
then he asks me who are considered the best " boys to put up " now ?
A searching question. Luckily, I've heard the phrase 4' boy to put
up" before, or might have thought he alluded (having been
absent in India for some time) to the obsolete climbing boys.
I've an idea that the other passengers are furtively listening.
I feel that, as an Englishman, I ought to know the names
of the jockeys, and particularly as 1 have not the excuse to
offer of having been out of England for a long time. I cautiously

reply, " Well--" and consider. A name suddenly occurs to me, as

if by inspiration. I come out with it,—I say that " I suppose
Gmmstone's not a bad one."

I have scarcely uttered this opinion before I feel I've made a false
step. Firstly, it occurs to me that Grimstone is not a jockey, but
a prizefighter ; secondly, that I don't think he's a prizefighter, but
a cricketer; thirdly, that, if so, he's an amateur cricketer; and,
fourthly, that _ he's an eminent Chancery barrister. I wait an
instant, expecting my neighbour, or some one in the carriage, to say,
"Grimstone! Who's Grimstone? What did he ride? When
did he ride?" &c, &c. In which case I should give up Griji-
stone, and suppose that I was thinking of somebody else.

My sporting inquirer appears impressed by my reply, and merely
observes, " Ah ! " then, after looking at nothing in particular out
of the left window, and after turning his attention to something of
equal importance out of the right window, he evidently determines

upon not " asking this witness (myself) any further questions," and
gradually subsides into a newspaper.

Dyspeptic Symptoms consequent upon the early dinner enormity.—
Indigestion from now to Exeter. Drowsiness. After Exeter, dark-
ness. Near the Sea. Rain. Passengers have dropped out one by
one. Sense of loneliness.

Thoughts in the Dark.—Note in pocket-book, with the idea of
" writing to the Times" on the subject.

{a). Why are there no lights in the carriages between Exeter and
Torquay ?

(&). To find out if there isn't an Act of Parliament compelling
Railway Companies to put lights in carriages. Mem. Does this Act
only apply to ships ? If so, suggest to some one (find an M.P., and
suggest it to him) to bring in a Bill for the purpose.

By the Way. First find your M.P., and then might suggest
plenty of Bills and Measures. With a view to My Health, I wonder
how a Parliamentary Life would suit me ? Think it over. If my
Doctor says it's just the thing, I might go in for somewhere.
Where ? As what ? How much ? If much, would My Aunt advance
the money ? She might for the honour of the family. Might give
her an I. 0. IT., payable on my becoming a Cabinet Minister. One
never knows what may eventuate. These are Thoughts in the Dark.
Good title for a Religious Tract. Might suggest it to Rev. J. C.
Rtle. Hear he makes thousands by a Tract of only four pages.
Nothing easier than to write a Tract, or any number of Tracts. Feel
I could do it. Why not ? If I was a Clergyman, I might. Why
not write as a Clergvman, say, " Thoughts in the Dark, by the Rev.
J. A. B. H. L. K." Might add (to puzzle the Public) " & Co."
New Tract (Fifty Thousandth, this Day), by Rev. J. A. B. H. L. K.
& Co. Or really start a Tract Company (Limited).

This money (out of the tracts) would defray election expenses.
Some one told me once that he was travelling in a train (as I am
now), and happened to say to a casual acquaintance (but I am all
alone now in the dark) that he intended going in for Parliament.
Whereupon the Casual Acquaintance said, " Are you, by Jingo !"
or words to that effect; adding, "Then you're the man forme."
Will you come back to (I forget where), and stand for the County (or
Borough, I don't remember which) ? " My friend said, " Yes, cer-
tainly," but expressing at the same time a wish to go home and get
another pair of trousers (I think it was), as he had not intended
being away more than a day when he started. The Casual Acquaint-
ance wouldn't let him do it, but jumped out at the next station, took
my friend with him, telegraphed back to somewhere, where he'd
come from, to say, " Found a man to stand for the place : will be
amongst you {i.e., the Electors) in an hour." And a telegram to
agent, "Issue Address at once." By the time that they reached
the town the Addresses were out, and my friend told me that he was
received by Deputations at the station, cheered all over the place,
carried in triumph to his hotel, presided at a public dinner,
addressed crowds from the balcony, wore colours, presented colours,
was serenaded at night, went to church next day with a band
playing, and listened to an election sermon, with an appropriate
election hymn afterwards ; that, being short of stature, he had con-
sented to stand upon three hassocks in his pew, in order to show
himself to the people; that, in order to secure the votes of the
Churchmen, he went to service three times that day in three
different places, never closed his eyes once through any of the ser-
mons, and stood on four hassocks in the evening because of the
gaslight being bad, and never once took his eyes off his book; that
henceforth, not only was he the Popular Candidate (as his Casual
Acquaintance informed him), but the only Candidate, until the very
last day but one, when a meeting was held in which he was
denounced as an adventurer by all partiesj and some one whose
name had never been mentioned, suddenly issued an address ; and
that, upon this, his Casual Acquaintance took him aside, and
advised bim that the best course he could pursue would be to retire
at once, before the Mob became very violent, in which case he (my
friend) might be held legally responsible for the damage done to the
Hotel, and perhaps for the destruction of half of the public buildings
in the town; that, hearing this, my friend went off by the very
next train, disguised as a bricklayer, but was recognised by the
roughs, hooted at, and pelted before he got to the station, into which
he was dragged by the police. That, before he was allowed to go,
he was obliged to pay his hotel bill of about five hundred pounds,
besides drawing cheques for printing, treating, and a tailor's ana
haberdasher's bill for several entire new suits (shirts and ties in
election colours, and trousers with election stripes down the sides)
made in a hurry, in consequence of having come off without his
portmanteau, and which were of no sort of use to him after-
wards ; and that, finally, he read of the new Candidate's unop-
posed return, but never again fell in with his Casual Acquaintance,
nor heard a word about him, except from one man, who told
him, confidentially, that the less he saw of him the better. That his
family (my friend's family) had him (my friend) watched by a detec-
tive, and once his relations clubbed together to pay a mad doctor to
visit him. All this occurs to me in the dark, between Exeter and