Punch (63.1872)

September 21, 1872.J

PUNCH, OB, THE LONDON CHARIVARI.

FROM OUR OWN CORRESPONDENT

With the Northern Army at Pewsey.

murder op a. resident by the soldiers !
great excitement (n wiltshire !
application to the queen for withdrawal op the troops!

hough I had been
seventy-six hours on
horseback, neither my
horse nor I had tasted
food during the whole
of that time. The poor
animal dropped down
with exhaustion, and
taking off his bridle and
saddle, I made my way
towards some outbuild-
ings of a farm-house.
A large dog rushed out
of his kennel as I was
approaching, and having
pacified him, I undid
his collar, and took
possession of his kennel,
having previously pulled
up a few turnips from
an adjacent field. When
I had finished my frugal
supper of raw turnips,
I turned in and fell
asleep, though I was
occasionally disturbed
by the rightful owner
of my lodging, who
wanted to come in for
shelter from tbe rain
which was falling in
torrents.

Towards daylight I
was aroused by the
tramp of horses. Two
officers, one a General,
the other his aide-de-camp, reined up close to the place where I was lying.

" By Jove, there will be an awful row about this. They killed the old fellow in a wood."
" Who did it ? " asked the aide-de-camp.

" One of the Militia, I believe, ran him through with a bayonet as he was trying to escape."

" Can't we square it somehow," said the youngest of the two, " and get it hushed up ?"

" Impossible," answered the General; " they have got the body at Pewsey, and the
Magistrates are going to meet to-morrow about the matter, and, as many of them are Parsons,
they will make more fuss about it than the others. They meet at ten o'clock at the
Phoenix Hotel."

Tou may imagine that this terrible tale thoroughly awakened me. I was twelve miles
from Pewsey, and the roads, in this part of the world, after rain, are a foot or two deep in
white clay, very like the stuff they clean top-boots with. It was too dreadful to think of—a
murder by soldiers, in a wood, and officers attempting to screen the murderer.

After a deal of trouble, I arranged with a farmer for the loan of a donkey, and started at
six in the morning for Pewsey.

I inquired my way of an old man who was hoeing turnips. The old fellow, who never
looked up, informed me that I was a "main-way" off, and there weren't no regular road,
but if I went along the down for three or vour mile, I should come to Bumper's Meadow,
and if I saw anyone in Bumper's Meadow—" not tbat I ever see anyone in Bumper's Meadow
myself, man or boy, and I don't rightly know if it arn't broke up," my informant said—I
was to ax again.

Following the side of the down on my long-eared steed, I eventually got to the Canal, and
kept the road to Pewsey.

There was immense excitement in the town, and one of the farmers informed me that
the Magistrates were "a sittun at the Veenix"—as he called the imperishable bird—and
were " a writin' to the Queen."

I immediately produced my credentials as Mr. Punch's special reporter, and was in-
formed that if I dared to come near the room the Magistrates would commit me for trial
for contempt of the Bench, and give me hard labour in the meantime.

I picked up what information I could. One old man told me it was as bad a murder as
ever was done, and that if Assheton Smith had been alive, and caught the man who " killed
un, he would have hung he."

In the course of the afternoon I was fortunate enough to come across the Magistrates'
clerk, whom I found to be a very intelligent little man.

" Can I see the body ? " I asked him.

" Impossible," he said, " the Magistrates are going to send it to London."
" What, for medical inspection ? " I asked.

" Ah! I don't know," he said. " The Magistrates are very angry; I have tried to prove to
them the possibility of its being an accident, as the old fellow was frightened and got
between two regiments and someone stabbed him ; but the Magistrates won't hear of it, and
have petitioned the Qtteen for the withdrawal of the Army. The Commander-in-Chief
and the Prince of Waxes offered a hundred guineas each and a public apology on behalf
of tbe Army without avaiL If you will step into my office, you shall see the Petition. I

wish," he added, "they bad taken my
advice, and had padded and brushed the
poor beast, and had the head stuffed, and
thrown him to the hounds, and said no
more about it: but here is the Petition: "

"To Her Most Gracious Majesty Queen
Victoria.

"The humble petition of Her loyal sub-
jects, Magistrates of tbe County of Wilts,
assembled at the Phoenix Hotel at Pewsev.

" Sheweth.

" Tbat tbe British Army have occupied
for some days past, and continue to occupy,
a large district in the county of Wilts.
That some soldier or soldiers have wickedly,
maliciously, and with malice aforethought
stabbed and thereby killed and murdered
in a certain wood in the said county of
Wilts, a fine old dogfox," &c, &c, &e.

Hinc illce lachrymce, Mr. Punch!

MYSTERY AND MEDICINE.

Here is a curiosity of advertising litera-
ture :—

TO CHYMISTS AND DRUGGISTS.—A
Surgeon, being about to retire from ill
health, wishes to dispose of a first-rate Busi-
ness, situate," &c.

Several questions are suggested by read-
ing this announcement, and folks at the
sea-side, who have nothing else to do ex-
cept to try and get an appetite, and when
they have lost it to try and get another,
may find some mental occupation for some
of their spare time in considering the prob-
lems presented to their notice. For in-
stance, what, in the name of iEsculapius,
can this doctor ever mean by advertising
that he is " about to retire from ill
health" ? How a person can do this it is
perplexing to conceive ; and although a
Surgeon may have more control over ill
health than people not of his profession, it
can scarce be in his power at his mere
pleasure to retire from it. If such retire-
ment were effected, one would think it must
be a retirement to that bourne from which
no traveller returns; but this is far too
grave a question for the folks at the sea-
side, who read only for amusement, if
indeed they read at all.

A Word Well Chosen.

"The 'funeral' of Pere Hyacinthe took
place yesterday. You are, perhaps, aware that
it is the custom among Eoman Catholic religious
communities to consider any member that deserts
them as dead, and the ceremony of burying him
is gone through. This was done yesterday at the
Convent of Dominicans, to which M. Hyacinthe
Loyson belonged. A coffin was placed in the
middle of the chapel, and the customary burial
service chanted. It is said the scene was ' most
imposing.' "—Echo.

"Imposing" is a word with two mean-
ings, both of which must have occurred to
many readers of this extraordinary account
of a fictitious funeral.

act and euphemism.

The " Intoxicating Liquors Act," that
was, has got to be called the "Licensing
Act." Its authors and promoters evidently
discovered that they had given it a bad
name. _

Comparisons of Time.—Which goes the
quicker P—a Full Minute, or a Spare
Moment ?