Punch (72.1877)

I May 5, 1877.]

PUNCH, OE THE LONDON CHARIVARI.

203

DIARY OF MY RIDE TO KHIVA.

{Continued by Private Wire* as before.)

-.=.----z^r- v ext Day— Up all night with

-J=s^r~ , \i IJ , Pig, teaching him something

^—= :==i^;gEgiiizzEa^^ ^ / new. Maskeltneand Cooe;e

and would pay high for the
5^ entertainment. Piggy nearly
;_ ■ as good as Psycho, only not
=| _v so dependable. The advan-
| tage of my Pig over Psycho

•7_*~* is that no machinery is
2~ required. This is a hint to
Messrs. M. and C. But I
won't say another word if—
Need I add a condition to
men of such business-like
habits as Messes. M. and C.
If I know the secret of
Psycho, what am I ivorth f
I am sure that my friends,
„ M. and C, at a distance,
,3 will, after this intimation,
at once add their honoured
and valuable names to the
list of subscribers by whose
assistance I am to be kept
out here, When I return,

"^jfl^Ejf // § ii l|\ W^v^^^i^^^^^^iift ^ shall, with my Pig, my

fljaOTKsllr / I J Jj ^RV^S^S^^^^^^ llw Horse, my merry Tartar

ss^/ m H m ll I^M^^^^^^^^Smjr Mechanical Piano, and perhaps a Fair Circassian or two (some-
M i^JS jl m |I |^I^^^H^^otIt thing like the lady with long hair on Mrs. Allen's wall advertisement—•
H> «JBf&-J[ IML Jma^m^^^^m^^^r /lr on^ muca more so), have such a Show for the Egyptian Hall as will
fRP*^!^ astonish all London. My Entertainment will be announced as " My Ride

*'"* .....( *W$H MaBSrm^ fMu to Khiva, illustrated with a Pig I a Piano ! ! a Panorama!!!" Note.—

^\\\^SiL-' MW^Mjf^^^i ^SjMg Crossed a river to-day. The Oxus, I believe.

S^flp^ MiB*&TT fc| "Njffly Same Afternoon.—The Donkey is an ass. He won't stir a step. For-

S ~r^^^L_ !^fe_^s^T^*w,<' _^Ty' tunately, my horse has thrown the Yodki-man who returned him to-day

ff, /T^^T^x^SlS^^ -T^KWr W^ a n0*-e' sayin» that, as he couldn't ride, and as he should probably be

t .1 ^ y?%»^BPSr ^"NfRr sued me ^or elgbteenpence an hour (as he infallibly would have been

/ ^S=^/f^>S^ v\ l^/yP^ *or my own sa^e> an(l that of my friend the Livery-stable keeper in town),

\L v\ \ * "' he thought he had better return him with thankski (i.e. Tartar expression

''Njj -*j^' ' of gratitude). The horse will be of the greatest use to me. Note.—Crossed

another river, or the same. The Oxus, I fancy.
- \ ht , ^ v . Same Night.—-I am in luck! A discovery! I had just finished practising

the Pig at ecarte (he won four games out of five to-night, so I shall begin to
teach him something else, because my Sleigh-driver and his Boy always back
the Pig now, and I lost more than a rouble and a half—odd !), when, accidentally, I whistled the favourite movement from the Overture
to the Cheval de Bronze. In a second, my steed had broken from its moorings, and was cantering round and round in exact time to the
tune. Struck with the coincidence, I put on the steam, and went presto—so did the animal,—prestissimo—so did the animal; while the
Pig sat up on his tail, which doubled under him, and grinned from ear to ear (just as you've seen the mouth of the boar's head at
Christmas time with an apple, or a lemon, in it), and the Sleigh-driver and Boy applauded violently. Prestissimo-issirho—"again he
urges on his wild career; and as I repeated this most happily applicable line to myself, a thought—a happy thought—if I may be
permitted to use the expression—struck me. " Am I not in the very region of the Scenes of the Circle ? Am I not in the country of
Mazeppa f " Then the idea formulated itself into poetry, and, like an inspired Vates of old, I exclaimed—

" 'Tis the spot for bold Mazeppa,

There the Steppes, and here the Stepper ! "

And then I stopped ; inspiration had reached its limits, and why should I force inspiration by suggesting to inspiration that the next
line ought to end with " Pepper," and that " Leper " wouldn't be a bad termination for line four ? Ah! if poets only knew when to
halt, how many halting lines should we be annually spared ! Why pump at a dry well ? Why bring up the muddy water ? Why not,
in fact, leave the Pierian well alone? "0 Inspiration!" as the Poet has feelingly sung—• 0 Inspiration I what crimes have not
been committed in thy name!" But to go into the subject of what crimes have not been committed, would be to wander away
from my present fixed intention, which is to write a Diary of my Bide to Khiva, and not a disquisition on Inspiration, the Divine
Afflatus, and burning the bellows.

Next Day.—Crossed the Oxus again. Slept well. Up early. Horse out. Whistled Overture, and then tried fresh music on
Mechanical Piano, while the Pig turned the handle. Another of his increasingly numerous accomplishments. Horse up to a great
deal more_ than was ever suspected in the philosophy of my noble friend the Livery-Stable Keeper, or I shoirldn't have got him for
one-and-sixpence an hour. I find that he (the Horse) has been accustomed to sup with the Clown; that he can fire off a pistol;
that he can dance a waltz, a polka, and march in quick or slow time. I aimed at him with my umbrella (or somebody's which
came with me from England), and he fell down, pretending (with much spontaneous humour) to be dead. We try to lift him. "No
good pulling at a dead horse," I exclaimed (this will be part of my dialogue for my Entertainment—registered already), and then, after
asking him to get up to see his mother, then to have his dinner, and other facetious suggestions, I cried out, " Here's a Policeman
coming! " whereupon he jumped up on to his all-fours, pulled himself together, the Pig turned the handle of the Mechanical Piano,
which at once struck up the Bronze Horse, prestissimo et fortissimo, and away went the gallant steed round and round, with me clicking
the whip, and singing "Hi! hi! Hoopla ! tchk! " while the Sleigh-driver and the Boy applauded to the echo. Fortune is before us.

Midday.—Pig sulky, in consequence of Horse's success. What jealousy there always is among artistes ! Now the difficulties of an
entrepreneur commence. I wish we could get to Khiva. Note— River again. Crossed the Oxus for the fourth time. How it

* We hope soon to be able to say something definite about this " Private "Wire;" the question being, is he a soldier or a telegraphic communicator?
We have our doubts—but who hasn't ?—Ed.