Punch (63.1872)

October 26, 1872.]

PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.

167

HAPPY THOUGHTS.

ll the Brilliant fireworks,
which the programme had
so magnificently promised
us, turn out to consist of
a few coloured fires, three
or four rockets, something
else in the Catherine-wheel
line by way of a finish, and,
I think, two extra gas-jets
in the gardens.

The balloon of which
such anticipations had been
formed—Milbued, indeed,
frightening his wife by in-
forming her that he was
intending to try what a
terrific ascent was like,—
the balloon I myself dis-
cover, hanging like a crino-
line outside a shop, on a
hook in a side wall. It is
simply a toy fire-balloon of
tissue paper, with the usual
tow on a bit of wire under-
neath to be steeped in spirits of wine and ignited, that's all.

At the Mompisons1 table.—Kovfe^n is talking to Agatha : Cap-
tain Heehaew to Bektha. I am, I feel, as the fifth person at a
rubber.

Happy Thought.— Ready to cut in.

The difficulty is to know when to cut in. I don't like to join the
conversation without being invited. I should have thought that
Beetha would have put aside the Prussian officer and have ex-
claimed, " 0, I'm so glad you've come," and have motioned me to a
chair hy her side. But she doesn't. I don't exactly see my way.
The last time I sat by Bektha I was full of conversation, in much
the same tone as that which this Captain Thingummy is employing.
Sometimes I notice them both glancing furtively at me, and smiling.
What at ? It flashes across me that they are laughing at my
costume. Hang it, why? Let me consider. As I can't join in
their conversation, I may as well occupy my time in considering.

Happy Thought.—Think it out.

Thinking it out.—It has been a warm day, but begins now, in the
evening, to be a trifle chilly. I feel this when it is too late. My
present suit is, it suddenly occurs to me, rather out of character
with even an alfresco evening gathering like the present. It is a
remarkably light attire, of one pattern up and down, and all round,
which seemed to be the very thing, when the stuff first caught my
eye at the tailor's, and I was struck by the

Happy Thought.—Order an entire suit of it.

It seemed to me also the Very Thing (this sort of pattern generally
does seem " the very thing " if you stroll into your tailor's on a
bright day in early summer) for the sea-side. And so it was, that
is, for any sea-side where there was nobody except myself and my
Aunt; and, now I come to think of it (and I can't help coming to
think of it in these Gardens, on account of its startling contrast to the
surrounding dark-coloured frock-coats), I've only worn it in soli-
tude—never in company.

It was Milbued, after I'd been finding fault with his shabby hat,
who said, " My dear fellow, the best of this place is, that you can
wear anything." It was Milbued to whom I showed this suit, and
who expressed unbounded admiration of it, advising me to put it on
by all means, as it was the Very Thing (he too thought it was
" the very thing.") for Aix. Up to a certain point I feel it is the very
thing ; that is, if I could only show myself like a flash of lightning
in the street, for a second or two, and then disappear. I feel that
five minutes of me, in this dress, is too much for anyone. I want (if
it were possible) to be seen like a vision, like, in fact, something
lightly immaterial, and not as a light material, and then pass away,
not to be forgotten, but to dwell in the memory of mankind—
always, I mean, as associated with this costume.

Happy Thought.—Like some bright dream.

When my Aunt saw me in it this afternoon she didn't make any
remark, but then she'd seen it before at the sea-side. If she con-
sidered it ridiculous, why didn't she say so ? Milbued had said he
liked it, and in fact was going to order a lot of suits like it on his
return to England. I agreed with him, my good taste being flat-
tered by his approval; but it now occurs to me that—and if so, it's
Milbued all over—he meant it for a joke, in return for what I'd
said about bis hat.

I don't know whether " thinking it out" has made me nervously
sensitive, but everyone seems to shun me. Mes. Mompisow, even
old Mes. Mohpison, when I came up to her at first, turned away from
me, to talk to my Aunt, as soon as she could ; Kopfen, who expressed
himself so delighted to see me, hasn't spoken to me again, and as

for the Prussian Officer, with Beetha, his manner has been, from
the commencement, simply intolerable. Upon my word, I'd much
rather that they'd all cry out at once, " Look here ! We don't
like your dress ! " than snub me in this way without telling me the
reason. To come out in a light suit is not a crime, but—confound
Milbued !—it's treated as though it were. I would retire, but that
to quit the field now, is to yield the ground to the Prussian officer.
No ; I won't stir.

Suddenly Kopeen remembers an engagement: so does his friend.
They make some arrangements for meeting again to-morrow, and
rise to bow extravagantly, salute jerkily, and then they walk off
with the air of conquerors, irresistible among the fair sex. We are
in the land of duels, and I feel that if I could only be certain of
running the Prussian officer through the third breast-button of his
uniform, or of putting a bullet into the same place, I would'invite
him to meet me over the border in Holland, and leave him quiver-
ing on a daisy. The air of Germany makes me bloodthirsty. 1
don't feel like this in England. No. Evidently it's seeing so many
swords and uniforms all over the place, not to mention the Students
of the Polytechnic here, most of whom swagger about exhibiting
hideously scarred faces, the consequences of constantly recurring
hand-to-hand encounters with swords.

Happy Thought.—Cross over to Beetha. Preserve a cold de-
meanour.

She asks me why I didn't come and speak to her before, as she
was so bored by having to talk German to Captain Hebmajjn.
"He's a very handsome man," observes Miss Agatha. Beetha
admits, not, as I think, warmly (or is this to deceive me ?), that he is
rather good-looking. I treat the question superciliously. I say
that I didn't notice him particularly. I can't repress my bitterness,
I wish 1 could, but it will come out, and I say, with asperity, " I
don't like these Prussian officers."

I feel that I've played my cards in the worst possible style. The
Ladies are quite astonished at my dislike, as they have found them
(the officers) so very agreeable, and really far more intelligent and
amusing than any English officers.

Happy Thought.—I see a way to escape the effects of my hasty
expression. I sacrifice the English officers, and say, "0, English!
I wasn't thinking of them.'"

" Well," says Miss Beetha, " I like them very much, too. A
garrison town is very good fun."

This conversation is out of my line. It depreciates me as a
Civilian. There's a smack of frivolity about her manner now that
I don't like. It is not what I had expected. Agatha joins the
conversation which is being carried on by Mrs. Mompison and my
Aunt, and is all about Rowena, on the one part, and neuralgia and
galvanism on the other.

Happy Thought. — Opportunity. Seize it. Say, in low tone
(same tone as Prussian Captain—hang him!), "Do you remember
the last time we met at Boodels' ? "

"I thought you had forgotten all about that," Miss Beetha
returns, not in a very low tone, but looking up and laughing.

Laughing! It is at this supreme moment that I should like to
rise from my seat and be six feet high, with a long cloak, a pale
face, black moustache, and long black hair. I should like to thrill
her through and through with my piercing glance. I should like to
say, "Miss (or Beetha) you have trifled with a heart! " and then
somehow vanish, for to walk away, or even stride away, after this,
would be commonplace. Then I should like her to lead a life of
regret.

All this, however, I keep to myself, and simply return, with
meaning, and in a tone just a trifle lower (beating the Prussian
officer by three bass notes), " No, I have not forgotten."

She does not reply to this, and somehow, though I feel that I am
meaning a great deal, I can't find anything fresh to talk about, and
this subject really does seem exhausted. There is a slight pause.
I then ask, " Are you staying long here ; "

Happy Thought.—To relieve this of being a commonplace by
throwing expression into it.

She doesn't know. Hopes it will be some time, as she enjoys it.
I do not, and say so.

I try a return of tenderness, to see if this will touch a sympa-
thising chord. I say, " I heard you were here, and I've been anx-
iously expecting to see you since our arrival. I am so glad to meet
you again." She replies, leaning back in her chair (not forward or
bending her head, as she had been doing with the Prussian Captain
—hang him!), " Yes, we have been here about a month or so al-
ready." Presently she says, smiling, "Don't you find your dress
rather cold?" At last! I knew it! I am boring them. She
doesn't like me—in this Suit. She evidently wishes me to go away.

" I suppose, Miss Beetha," I say, sarcastically, "you prefer a
uniform."

"I think." she returns, quietly, "that it is very becoming."
Which clearly means that mine isn't.

I observe, carelessly, as though the subject were really beneath
consideration, " Dress here is of very little importance." I should