Punch (70.1876)

June 10, 1876.]

PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.

233

AT THE HORSE-SHOW.

Ethel (to Papa, ivluo has been to Luncheon). " You've not missed much, Papa. There has

ONLY BEEN ONE MAN in THE brook, AND TWO TUMBLES at the HuilDLES ! "

DERBY STAND-POINTS.

It is perhaps needless to remark that Mr. Punch has received an enormous number of
descriptions of last AYednesday's race. From the great mass of such contributions Mr. Punch
has selected two, which he presents to the public, that they may strike an average between
them:—

Sir, June 1, 1876.

Never again! I have now seen the race several times, and on every occasion I have
vowed it should be for the last time. Yet this year, on Wednesday last, I found myself in
a hamsom with Wallis—William Wallis—and a hamper. Never go to the Derby in a
hansom ! In the first place, you have no room for your legs ; in the second place, if you ride
(as we did) four miles behind a van, your cab will become a receptacle for a sufficient amount
of peas to provide soup for the whole British Army; and, thirdly, it is ten to one that your
companion will (as mine did) want to smoke strong cigars the whole way down and back. I
need hardly say that William felt thirsty at an early period of the day, and insisted upon
opening the hamper, when we of course discovered we had no corkscrew. A blow from the
Cabman's whip soon got over this difficulty, though if the incident had taken place anywhere
except in front of my partner's villa at Clapham, I should have been better pleased. The
Press gentlemen, who are paid for it, always rave about the beauties of the road. I have
never seen anything except scrubby hedges, Cockney villas, and an unconscionable amount
of dust. Also the spectacle of several thousand ramshackle vehicles with their more dis-
gusting occupants, is not one to raise the mind to good and noble thoughts.

We got to the Downs, had some lunch, and left the hamper in care of the cabman. I
soon lost my friend, and had to wander about by myself. Good heavens, Sir ! what does a
man go to the Derby for ? If he enjoys having his coat brushed against his will; being
pestered by tawdry women thrusting decayed vegetables in his face that may once have
been roses ; hearing the inanities of minstrels whose natural dirt one would think would
have rendered burnt cork superfluous ; being invited to spot the king or to point out the
little pea; being sworn at for getting in the way of those idiots who are shying at cocoa-
nuts ; being grilled alive by a fiery sun, and narrowly escaping being run over by the
drags of a bloated aristocracy—if, Sir, he enjoys all this, he is fool enough for anything;
and if he doesn't enjoy it, he is ten times bigger fool for not being comfortably at home.
Just before the race, I started to run down the hill. In my haste I dodged under a carriage.
"That's him! Stop thief! hold him tight!" were what I heard; and then next moment
I was seized by two policemen, and accused of having stolen a bracelet! In vain I protested ;
I had been seen to do it; and if it had not been for the arrival of another policeman with
the real offender and the bracelet, it would have gone hard for me. As soon as I was
released I heard a yell, and, on turning round, saw the number "7"!

What! The Race over ! I had not seen it; and Kisber first!

# * * * ^ ^ ^ *

On the drive home I will not dilate. Bill was, as he put it, "on," the Cabman (as
he put it) had " copped the brewer" ; both of them (as / put it) were in a hopeless state of
intoxication. The usual amenities of the road took place. Suffice it to say, that as, at half-

past eight, we drove up Grosvenor Place,
my companions only capable of being used
as illustrations to a lecture on the Ghastly
Results of Intemperance, and I with my
clothes covered with flour, my face a mass
of soot, and my hat bashed in with a cocoa-
nut, I saw on a balcony a lady to whom,
during a sat-out dance on Monday, I had,
in my most blase manner, declared the
Derby only fit for boys. She saw me!
The Cabman asked more than the appointed
fare, and, on my refusal to pay, did, at
Bill's instigation, hit me in the eye.

Sir, in conclusion, the Derby Day is a
humbug! the House of Commons, for ad-
journing, is a humbug! and you, Sir, are
the greatest humbug of all for encouraging
in Cartoon, prose, and verse, an effete and
exploded idiocy.

Yours, &c,
One Who Backed Petrarch.

Beloved Punch, June 1, 1876.

What a days you are having!
Oh the Darby! I drove there in one
"drag" with twelve of my countrymen.
Such larks ! My wife in Hungary. The
school Misses—I could have married them
all by the dozen. The country superb. The
finest horses and carts I ever saw in the
whole of life. Some had four horses, some
one donkey. We sang " Tommie, make
rooms for my Uncle " the whole possible
way there. We had a fine place, and saw
the race noble. When my country's horse
won, I threw my hat (white) in the air, and
never saw it again. After lunch we had
larks. I got a jolly blow on my head from
a man playing Aunt Silly. A SweU threw
lobster-salad over me. I talked to several
grandes dames in carriages, who gave me
champagne. It was not good, but the
English nobles are not so high exclusive as
peoples say. We had great fun back with
squirts and "pea-shooters. I took my coat
off and fought a man, and was knocked
down stunning. Hurrah for the Darby.
I shall always go. Next year, with my
wife—in Hungary of course. I saw twice so
many carriages go home that went down.

You "tipped" the Winner. I drink
your very good healths.

Yours, &c.,
One Who Backed Kiseer.

TO JUNE.

Egad, 'tis a good derivation,

With beauty and power, if not truth,
For the East wind is forced to cessation,

And the year's in its lusty hot youth.
We are gay, and our sons and our daughters

Delight in the calm plenilune,
And wander on Whitsuntide waters
'Mid glory of June.

Comes music from many a villa,
Where they dance on the tree-shaded
grass:

The swan leads his cygnet-flotilla,
And hisses at boats as they pass :

Save Hesperus, twilight is starless
In the light of a fast-growing moon,

As we loiter awhile, not cigarless,
In silence of June.

Let politics, business, annoyance,
Away to the Zephyrs be flung :
Accept the fair season's soft joyance ;
In the breath of the youth-month grow
young.
The call of inflexible Duty

Will break up our holiday soon,
So enjoy, as you laze amid beauty,
This fragment of June.