DOI Heft:
July 18, 1874
DOI Seite / Zitierlink:https://doi.org/10.11588/diglit.16939#0032
24
PUNCH, OK, THE LONDON CHAKIVAKI.
[July 18, 1874.
OUR NEW NOYEL.
ONE-AND-THREE!
BY THAT DISTINGUISHED FKENCH NOVELIST,
FICTOR HOGO.
PART THE THIRD -THE LITTLE ’UNS IN.
Book the Second.
II.— Up a Loft.
After a while the three Acrobatic Children took off their wings
and tumbled for practice.
They were accustomed to this for hours at a stretch.
Polly and Pickle-lilly looked like elegant boys, and threw
themselves into attitudes.
Tommy was the Clown.
He said, “’Ere we are
again!” And presently,
“ ’Ow are yer to-morrow ?”
After a little while he ex-
claimed, “See what I’ve
found ! ” They paid no atten-
tion to him. Polly and
Pickle - lilly were engaged
on their own line of business.
Knowing that Tommy was
only practising his ordinary
Clown’s jokes in regular order,
they allowed him to remain
unnoticed.
So he went on, “ ’Ere’s a
Bobby cornin’!” Then,
“ What can I go for to fetch
for to carry for to bring ? ”
After this he went three
times head over heels and
heel's over head. This exercise
being finished, he sat down.
Polly, the eldest and
wisest, reminded her brother
that he had not ended his
performance by putting his
hand to the back of his neck,
as he had been taught, and
making a bow.
Tommy was about to obey
her order, when a Bee flew in
at the window.
Pickle-lilly began at once,
“ ‘ How doth the little busy
Bee’?” _
To which the insect only
replied, “ Buzz, buzz, buzz.”
Strange that this little crea-
ture should have answered in
the same words as the great
English poet has put into the
mouth of his Hamlet. But
Bees sip sweets from every
flower.
The children had seen better days at a Sunday School, and were
able to repeat De. Watts’s hymn. Tommy hit at the insect with a
scrap of paper lying on the ground. It was a portion of an old
playbill. The wings of the Bee were sticky with honey or wax, and
the scrap stuck to its body. Thus he became a bearer of news to
the outer world. Before anything further could be done the Bee
had quitted by the window where he had entered. In this instinct
there was something rational.
Tommy now began to wonder when he should be “ called ” to go
through his dialogue with the Master of the Horse in the ring.
He had been brought up to argue in a circle.
Was it a vicious circle ?
How many are brought up in this way and not recognised as
Clowns.
If you forget anything, Mother will wallop you,” said Polly.
they called her Mother” who had been with them in the wood
ot bodar-an-be.
They cast unquiet glances at one another and murmured “Mother.”
then they danced together in a sudden sense of newly-gained
reedom. Tired with this, they slept. This was their preparation
tor their afternoon performance, for which they awaited the sum-
mons. There was no sign of it within.
Without was a surging infuriated crowd.
HI.—Four Minus Three.
The Woman, who had given up t he Children to the real soldiers
and the Sergeant, had escaped, alone.
When Widdicombe Junior had so skilfully broken up Zangher’s
Cirque at La Tristesse, this Woman had fled.
The Marky Du Crow had secured the services of all the others.
Zangher’s had departed on a provincial tour. Their route was
uncertain.
Gammon’s Cirque had closed for a season. In the present state of
affairs, none knew when it would be re-opened.
Without her Children the Woman was helpless. Also she was
out of an engagement. Had she been present at the terrific battle
between the troupes under the Marky and Gammon, she would have
been in an engagement.
The Marky’s troupe had.been scattered. Only a few remained
with him in the old theatre in the Market-place.
On the other hand, those under Gammon were concentrated.
The Woman knew nothing of this.
All she knew was that she
was alone. That was enough.
Her friend the Yivandiere had
also gone. She no longer had
even the chance of a draught
of her wine at the low price of
one-and-three.
These words she repeated to
herself as she walked onward
wearily, “One-and-three.”
She continued speaking to
herself, ‘ ‘ To those who cannot
take care of number one, to
look after number three is im-
possible. Yet I am looking-
after three. I am one: they
are three.”
Suddenly she perceived a
piece of paper moving, ap-
parently, of its own accord, on
the ground.
She stooped to grasp it, and
a bee flew away, humming.
She read the scrap. It was,
“Theatre Royal, Market
Place, Tristesse.”
It was an inspiration.
She asked a very upright
man to direct her. He said,
“ I know the place.”
“ Well?”
“What?”
“ You will direct me ? ”
“You are not an envelope.”
“Ho. But I want to he
directed.”
“ Wnither ? ”
“ I have said. The theatre,
at La Tristesse.”
“ I know it.”
“ I know you know. Tell
me.”
“Ho.”
“Why not?”
“ Because it is a bad place.”
“ But it is a good theatre.”
“ Ho theatre is good.’’
And he walked on in the opposite direction.
“ Still,” he said, to himself, “ she may be hungry.” He turned
back, and gave her a ticket for soup. It was dated for last year.
Good actions belong to no time.
She took it without looking.
She thought to herself, “ It is an order for the Theayter.
After a while, she stopped at the entrance to what seemed to be a
cellar. She looked down into the darkness.
“ Is there anyone here ? ”
A voice came out of the gloom :
“ Ho.”
It was Billlbarlo.
She put the same question to him.
He replied with another, ‘ ‘ Can you throw a stone r ”
“Yes.”
“ Then you are within a stone’s throw.”
IY.—Demand and Supply.
Katgoot was a man who did what he was told. He said, ‘ ‘ I am
commanded. I do.”
PUNCH, OK, THE LONDON CHAKIVAKI.
[July 18, 1874.
OUR NEW NOYEL.
ONE-AND-THREE!
BY THAT DISTINGUISHED FKENCH NOVELIST,
FICTOR HOGO.
PART THE THIRD -THE LITTLE ’UNS IN.
Book the Second.
II.— Up a Loft.
After a while the three Acrobatic Children took off their wings
and tumbled for practice.
They were accustomed to this for hours at a stretch.
Polly and Pickle-lilly looked like elegant boys, and threw
themselves into attitudes.
Tommy was the Clown.
He said, “’Ere we are
again!” And presently,
“ ’Ow are yer to-morrow ?”
After a little while he ex-
claimed, “See what I’ve
found ! ” They paid no atten-
tion to him. Polly and
Pickle - lilly were engaged
on their own line of business.
Knowing that Tommy was
only practising his ordinary
Clown’s jokes in regular order,
they allowed him to remain
unnoticed.
So he went on, “ ’Ere’s a
Bobby cornin’!” Then,
“ What can I go for to fetch
for to carry for to bring ? ”
After this he went three
times head over heels and
heel's over head. This exercise
being finished, he sat down.
Polly, the eldest and
wisest, reminded her brother
that he had not ended his
performance by putting his
hand to the back of his neck,
as he had been taught, and
making a bow.
Tommy was about to obey
her order, when a Bee flew in
at the window.
Pickle-lilly began at once,
“ ‘ How doth the little busy
Bee’?” _
To which the insect only
replied, “ Buzz, buzz, buzz.”
Strange that this little crea-
ture should have answered in
the same words as the great
English poet has put into the
mouth of his Hamlet. But
Bees sip sweets from every
flower.
The children had seen better days at a Sunday School, and were
able to repeat De. Watts’s hymn. Tommy hit at the insect with a
scrap of paper lying on the ground. It was a portion of an old
playbill. The wings of the Bee were sticky with honey or wax, and
the scrap stuck to its body. Thus he became a bearer of news to
the outer world. Before anything further could be done the Bee
had quitted by the window where he had entered. In this instinct
there was something rational.
Tommy now began to wonder when he should be “ called ” to go
through his dialogue with the Master of the Horse in the ring.
He had been brought up to argue in a circle.
Was it a vicious circle ?
How many are brought up in this way and not recognised as
Clowns.
If you forget anything, Mother will wallop you,” said Polly.
they called her Mother” who had been with them in the wood
ot bodar-an-be.
They cast unquiet glances at one another and murmured “Mother.”
then they danced together in a sudden sense of newly-gained
reedom. Tired with this, they slept. This was their preparation
tor their afternoon performance, for which they awaited the sum-
mons. There was no sign of it within.
Without was a surging infuriated crowd.
HI.—Four Minus Three.
The Woman, who had given up t he Children to the real soldiers
and the Sergeant, had escaped, alone.
When Widdicombe Junior had so skilfully broken up Zangher’s
Cirque at La Tristesse, this Woman had fled.
The Marky Du Crow had secured the services of all the others.
Zangher’s had departed on a provincial tour. Their route was
uncertain.
Gammon’s Cirque had closed for a season. In the present state of
affairs, none knew when it would be re-opened.
Without her Children the Woman was helpless. Also she was
out of an engagement. Had she been present at the terrific battle
between the troupes under the Marky and Gammon, she would have
been in an engagement.
The Marky’s troupe had.been scattered. Only a few remained
with him in the old theatre in the Market-place.
On the other hand, those under Gammon were concentrated.
The Woman knew nothing of this.
All she knew was that she
was alone. That was enough.
Her friend the Yivandiere had
also gone. She no longer had
even the chance of a draught
of her wine at the low price of
one-and-three.
These words she repeated to
herself as she walked onward
wearily, “One-and-three.”
She continued speaking to
herself, ‘ ‘ To those who cannot
take care of number one, to
look after number three is im-
possible. Yet I am looking-
after three. I am one: they
are three.”
Suddenly she perceived a
piece of paper moving, ap-
parently, of its own accord, on
the ground.
She stooped to grasp it, and
a bee flew away, humming.
She read the scrap. It was,
“Theatre Royal, Market
Place, Tristesse.”
It was an inspiration.
She asked a very upright
man to direct her. He said,
“ I know the place.”
“ Well?”
“What?”
“ You will direct me ? ”
“You are not an envelope.”
“Ho. But I want to he
directed.”
“ Wnither ? ”
“ I have said. The theatre,
at La Tristesse.”
“ I know it.”
“ I know you know. Tell
me.”
“Ho.”
“Why not?”
“ Because it is a bad place.”
“ But it is a good theatre.”
“ Ho theatre is good.’’
And he walked on in the opposite direction.
“ Still,” he said, to himself, “ she may be hungry.” He turned
back, and gave her a ticket for soup. It was dated for last year.
Good actions belong to no time.
She took it without looking.
She thought to herself, “ It is an order for the Theayter.
After a while, she stopped at the entrance to what seemed to be a
cellar. She looked down into the darkness.
“ Is there anyone here ? ”
A voice came out of the gloom :
“ Ho.”
It was Billlbarlo.
She put the same question to him.
He replied with another, ‘ ‘ Can you throw a stone r ”
“Yes.”
“ Then you are within a stone’s throw.”
IY.—Demand and Supply.
Katgoot was a man who did what he was told. He said, ‘ ‘ I am
commanded. I do.”