Punch (67.1874)

November 14, 1874.]

PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.

207

HYMEN IN EXCELSIS.

bronautic Marriage.—A despatch from Cincinnati in the
New York papers says :—A very successful balloon ascent
was made here this afternoon (October 19) by Professor
Donaldson, who was accompanied by a bridal party of six
persons. At the height of about a mile above the earth
the marriage ceremony was performed. The balloon landed safely about three miles from the
place of ascension.—Post.

Aeronaut sings—

I and six more went up in a balloon,

From the town of Cincinnati, the other afternoon.

With a couple of the party to be married in a way
New to the daughters and the sons of clay:

Up shot the balloon to the regions higher
By a long long chalk than the tallest spire.

The bald-headed eagle we bid good-bye,

As we went a soarin’ to our kindred sky,

Up in a balloon, boys, up in a balloon,

A singin’ of “Excelsior!" and shoutin’ to the moon:

Up in a balloon, boys, up in a balloon,

I cal’late it’s jolly to be up in a balloon.

Up, up we was histed by gaseous power,

To the height of a mile above town and tower
There they plit their faith, and their vows they vowed
On the sunlit back of a thunder-cloud.

They was spliced beneath the etarnal stars,

In the presence of Jupiter, Yenus, and Mars.

We recked neither Little nor Great Bear’s growl;

And we laughed as we bid the Dog-Star howl.

Up in a balloon, &c.

The scene was solemn—the rite was short—

There warn’t much ceremony to report.

But the Spheres did ’propriate music play ;

Mendelssohn’s Wedding March, clear as day.

We realised that air, and caught
The everlastin’ tune in thought.

And the songs of the Planets we heer’d afar,

With our innard ears in the nuptial car.

Up in a balloon, &c.

We descended with quite a favourin’ gale,

Happy pair and all, to this earthly vale.

“Is there marriage on high?” some people inquire.
If their’n wasn’t one I’ma falsifier.

That’s a fact eonsarnin’ them there folks;
Though the sceptic may deem it a Yankee hoax,
’Tis as true as that two and two make four ;

Or I wish I may ne’er ascend no more
In an air-balloon—in an air-balloon—

And I don’t care a cent for ne’er a buffoon,

As may caricature me in his cartoon
Of the marriage I witnessed up in a balloon.

CORRESPONDENTS TO THE FRONT!

The present condition of the British Army
having once more engaged the attention of the
newspapers,_ eminently useful letters such as the
following will probably be published during the
course of the next few weeks:—

To the Editor.

Sir,

The Senior Sword and Bomb Club.

My contempt for all writing fellows in
general, and journalists in particular, being, I
flatter myself, well known, the receipt of this
communication will doubtless cause you much
surprise. The fact that I am addressing you is
yet another proof that the Service is rapidly going
to—well, you can supply the rest.

Sir, I consider all this talk about recruiting
utter nonsense—nay, I will go further, and call
it rank rubbish. You may possibly imagine that
you have discovered a double meaning in the
word “rank.” You will be wrong. Had you
served in the regiment I had the honour to com-
mand in 1824, you would know that I never
joke.

Now, Sir, take my word for it, we don’t go the
right way to work to get recruits. People seem to
forget that His Grace Field-Marshal the late Duke
ok Wellington won all his victories with Brown
Bess and the leather collar. Let it he well known
that we have returned to the old institutions (I
hate the word, but I can find no better one for

the expression of my meaning), and men will flock
into the ranks like sheep. Let us go back to
the glorious days of 1815, let us give up the new-
fangled notions now in fashion about ‘ ‘ arms of
precision ” and the rest of it, and all may yet
be well. Above all, let us restore flogging and
the branding-irons—the men like them, for they
give a tone to the system,—and the Service may
still be saved.

Now that I am pen in hand, I could write much
more on this subject, as I have the interests of
my country very deeply at heart. Unfortunately,
I have to break off at this point, as the Club
waiter informs me that he has just secured for me
my favourite table near the fireplace in the Coffee-
room. The soup is served, and should never be
eaten cold. Moreover, I should mortally offend
our Chef if I treated his dishes without that
respect they so eminently deserve.

I am, Sir, yours, &c.,

Sebastian Pipeclay, Major- General.

To the Editor.

Offices of the Benevolent
Dear Sir, Zattibs Association.

Of course we can get recruits if we treat
our soldiers with kindness. Surely there are
several cruelties which might be easily removed,
if the Horse Guards would only be charitable.
For instance, why should uniform be insisted
upon, when civilian clothing is so much more
comfortable? Why make our soldiers carry a
heavy gun which they will never use, when a
light walking-stick would be so far more service-
able ? Why give them rations of coarse mutton