DOI Heft:
May 5, 1877
DOI Seite / Zitierlink: https://doi.org/10.11588/diglit.17730#0207
204 PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHAfflVABL [May 5, 1877.
meanders. Good name for a Tartar love-story,
Hero and 3Iceander—of course all about me-and-
her.
2 "30.—Met a sign-post going the other way.
We 've taken the wrong road again. Getting
nearer China; most provoking. "Where are we
now? The Pig, as a native, ought to know.
* * * * Have just put the letters of the Alphabet
before Pig, hoping he would spell out the name of
the locality, and give us further information
about our road to Khiva. Pig either obstinate,
stupid, or still in a sulky jealous pet about Horse.
All he would do was, first to spell out—" S-H-E
L-O-V-E-S Y-O-U," and then to grunt at the
Sleigh-driver, as if under the impression that he
was going through the ordinary performance, and
answering my question, " Who is the handsomest
man here ? "—when he ought, by right, to select a
visitor. Pig no use. Sleigh-driver doesn't know
country. He says, "0 overfed and much-caressed
Son of distinguished Parents,"—this means me—
" there is a shebeenski nigh at hand, kept by a
brother of mine. Let us go thither, and inquire
our way." Refused.
Saturday.—Crossed the Oxus. This [is the fifth
time in three days that we've crossed the Oxus.
Either the river winds (I don't mean breezes, but
winds with a long poetic " i ") considerably, or we
are travelling in a circle. Perhaps we are ; if so,
it's the fault of the Circus Horse, who, having
been accustomed to sroing round and round, can't
go straight. Met a Kirghiz-man. A Kirghiz-man
is a sort of travelling, butcher, who sells kirghizzes
{i.e. Tartaric for carcases). Meat is cheap out here,
and, if exported by a Company, might run the
American market in London hard. Asked the
Kirghiz - man in to dinner, and begged him to
bring his own food with him. He did so. Excel-
lent dinner. Treated him to hot ivickski and
water, strong. It brought tears into his eyes.
We were all much affected. More hot ivickski,
with less water. More tears. Gave a thimbleful
to the Pig. When the Kirghiz-man saw the Pig
seated at our humble board, he could stand it no
longer, but raising his glass in the air, cried,
" Ould Oireland for iver! " and tossed it off at a
gulp. After this we entered freely into conversa-
tion. He informed me that he had been brought
up as an Irishman, but had not seen his country
for many years. More ivickski. More tears. He
sang a sporting song, composed by himself,
about—
" 'Tis on the Oxus
We hunt the foxus."
But I forget the rest, except that it had a chorus
that sounded like "Shandygaff mavourneen!"
and was, I think, in praise of that excellent
compound. About 10 p.m. we sat down to a hand
at whist. The party consisted of the Pig (as
Dummy and my partner), the Sleigh-man (who
doesn't know the game well) and the Chevalier
O'Leery (as he likes to be called in private life)
being partners. Pig and self played all we knew.
Half-a-rouble points, and two roubles on the rub.
Self and Partner won first rub ; also second ; also
third. More ivickski. Chevalier proposed fresh
arrangement of partners. Acceded to his request.
As we were changing our seats, the Chevalier
swore he heard the Pig whispering to me in
passing. I denied it, and asserted the impossi-
bility of such an occurrence. The Chevalier asked
me if I'd never heard of a " Pig's Whisper." I
replied, "Never! Is it a song r"' (N.B.—If it
isn't, good idea for a song, " The Pig's Whisper "
—with accompaniment for the piggolo.) Chevalier
very angry. More ivickski. Sleigh-driver and
self won next rub. Chevalier violent. Row. We
threatened to expose him to the Russian autho-
rities, at the next Polisstashunski, as an Irish spy,
if he didn't pay up all he owed. The Chevalier,
overcome _ by the force of our arguments (the
Sleigh-driver is just six feet, and powerful in
proportion), handed over the coin. We parted—
at least he "parted"—and we rode on quickly in
the direction of Khiva. N.B.—Crossed the Oxus
for the sixth time.
Sunday.—Halt of the Caravan. Passed the morning in reading the Pig and the
Sleigh-driver a series of touching discourses: first, on the sin of cheating at cards •
secondly, on the danger of being found out; thirdly, on fidelity to employers;
fourthly, on gratitude to benefactors. After lunchski, taught the Pig some Sunday
games with the Alphabet, teaching him the answers to such questions as " Where was
Moses when the candle went out ? " " Who took in the first sporting paper ? " and
other queries from the Catechism. I fear that the Sleigh-man has no fixed principles.
He likes hearing a bell ring, and has a Sunday hat, but they don't convey to his mind
any distinct notion of what time of day it is. He has never heard of either a Pew-
opener or a Beadle. Could you not send out some portraits of celebrated Pew-openers
and Beadles ? And get up a subscription for my Sleigh-driver's conversion. He'd
like it, and so should I.
Sunday over.—On to Khiva. Met a Post with letters. Couldn't read the letters.
I think we are on the right road now.
Monday, 11 a.m.—Crossed the Oxus for the seventh time. That's the worst of a
Circus Horse. And as the Donkey wouldn't go, we were compelled to leave him behind.
If I could only find my compass, I might keep the horse straight. Snow thick. My
new Frigimometer (especially invented for this climate, and patented, of course) marks
the temperature at '000075° below Double Zero. This is cold ! Somebodv comine.
*
Nothing is more important for the Public at home, whether intending individually,
or collectively, to ride to Khiva, than to understand the country. In case of our being
drawn into a war, let me give this hint to the Government : The Frontier is better for
seeing than the back-tier. It is easily defended, and without any expense to speak
of. Send me out a few good Policemen of the A Division who know their business,
I '11 go out as a Special, and undertake to clear the place of any Russians. India is safe
for the present, but Khiva ought to be our Bow Street, and myself the Sitting Magistrate.
From riding so much—and, mind, a donkey is quite another sort of animal to a
horse (let me tell the Public, who rightly admire Captain- Burnaby, that it isn't every
cross-country man who has a good seat on a donkey)—I have an excellent seat; and,
therefore, as the Easterns know this, they would receive me as a Sitting Magistrate
where they would look with contempt on an unknown individual, however great his
other qualifications might bo. Here, riding on a donkey is a compliment to the
Natives. Here follows my map, which, if rough, is at least drawn by an honest
hand, and will prove invaluable : —
1. First turnpike.—2. Sign-post—names on it almost illegible.—3. Snow country. Capital
opportunity for a ballet.—4. Cross roads—a real puzzler.—5. "Winter Palace of the Great
Mogul.—6. Short cut to Khiva—not mentioned in the ordinary guide-books.— 7- Fields,
where " Trespassers will be Prosecuted."'—8. Circussia, where the trained steeds for Circusses
are.—9, 10. Good road; well adapted for troops.—11. Very fair Temperance Hotel. Recom-
mended by the Faculty.—12. Mountainous Passes. {Passes only admit two to Upper
Circles.) Ravines. (7J«-vines where GUATE-shot might be useful. Jeu de mot, registered.)
—13. Snow-covered deceptive volcano. {Mentioned by the Latin Poet, " Arma virumque
vol-cano.")—14. Frozen Lake. Good effect with a lime-light. Excellent place for a Skating
Club. Easily crossed by Troops, if supplied with my new (patented) rink skates.—
a, b, c, d, e,f. Boarding-houses on the borders. Most important strategical position. Great
chance for a big Hotel and a Theatre. Put Police at the doors, and don't allow any Russian
to come in without an Order. No one admitted after 7'30 p.m. No fees.—15. My shortest,
quickest, and cheapest way back to London, via Monaco and Paris.
Question by Sir Henry Hawkins. — " Am I not a Judge and a Brother ? "
meanders. Good name for a Tartar love-story,
Hero and 3Iceander—of course all about me-and-
her.
2 "30.—Met a sign-post going the other way.
We 've taken the wrong road again. Getting
nearer China; most provoking. "Where are we
now? The Pig, as a native, ought to know.
* * * * Have just put the letters of the Alphabet
before Pig, hoping he would spell out the name of
the locality, and give us further information
about our road to Khiva. Pig either obstinate,
stupid, or still in a sulky jealous pet about Horse.
All he would do was, first to spell out—" S-H-E
L-O-V-E-S Y-O-U," and then to grunt at the
Sleigh-driver, as if under the impression that he
was going through the ordinary performance, and
answering my question, " Who is the handsomest
man here ? "—when he ought, by right, to select a
visitor. Pig no use. Sleigh-driver doesn't know
country. He says, "0 overfed and much-caressed
Son of distinguished Parents,"—this means me—
" there is a shebeenski nigh at hand, kept by a
brother of mine. Let us go thither, and inquire
our way." Refused.
Saturday.—Crossed the Oxus. This [is the fifth
time in three days that we've crossed the Oxus.
Either the river winds (I don't mean breezes, but
winds with a long poetic " i ") considerably, or we
are travelling in a circle. Perhaps we are ; if so,
it's the fault of the Circus Horse, who, having
been accustomed to sroing round and round, can't
go straight. Met a Kirghiz-man. A Kirghiz-man
is a sort of travelling, butcher, who sells kirghizzes
{i.e. Tartaric for carcases). Meat is cheap out here,
and, if exported by a Company, might run the
American market in London hard. Asked the
Kirghiz - man in to dinner, and begged him to
bring his own food with him. He did so. Excel-
lent dinner. Treated him to hot ivickski and
water, strong. It brought tears into his eyes.
We were all much affected. More hot ivickski,
with less water. More tears. Gave a thimbleful
to the Pig. When the Kirghiz-man saw the Pig
seated at our humble board, he could stand it no
longer, but raising his glass in the air, cried,
" Ould Oireland for iver! " and tossed it off at a
gulp. After this we entered freely into conversa-
tion. He informed me that he had been brought
up as an Irishman, but had not seen his country
for many years. More ivickski. More tears. He
sang a sporting song, composed by himself,
about—
" 'Tis on the Oxus
We hunt the foxus."
But I forget the rest, except that it had a chorus
that sounded like "Shandygaff mavourneen!"
and was, I think, in praise of that excellent
compound. About 10 p.m. we sat down to a hand
at whist. The party consisted of the Pig (as
Dummy and my partner), the Sleigh-man (who
doesn't know the game well) and the Chevalier
O'Leery (as he likes to be called in private life)
being partners. Pig and self played all we knew.
Half-a-rouble points, and two roubles on the rub.
Self and Partner won first rub ; also second ; also
third. More ivickski. Chevalier proposed fresh
arrangement of partners. Acceded to his request.
As we were changing our seats, the Chevalier
swore he heard the Pig whispering to me in
passing. I denied it, and asserted the impossi-
bility of such an occurrence. The Chevalier asked
me if I'd never heard of a " Pig's Whisper." I
replied, "Never! Is it a song r"' (N.B.—If it
isn't, good idea for a song, " The Pig's Whisper "
—with accompaniment for the piggolo.) Chevalier
very angry. More ivickski. Sleigh-driver and
self won next rub. Chevalier violent. Row. We
threatened to expose him to the Russian autho-
rities, at the next Polisstashunski, as an Irish spy,
if he didn't pay up all he owed. The Chevalier,
overcome _ by the force of our arguments (the
Sleigh-driver is just six feet, and powerful in
proportion), handed over the coin. We parted—
at least he "parted"—and we rode on quickly in
the direction of Khiva. N.B.—Crossed the Oxus
for the sixth time.
Sunday.—Halt of the Caravan. Passed the morning in reading the Pig and the
Sleigh-driver a series of touching discourses: first, on the sin of cheating at cards •
secondly, on the danger of being found out; thirdly, on fidelity to employers;
fourthly, on gratitude to benefactors. After lunchski, taught the Pig some Sunday
games with the Alphabet, teaching him the answers to such questions as " Where was
Moses when the candle went out ? " " Who took in the first sporting paper ? " and
other queries from the Catechism. I fear that the Sleigh-man has no fixed principles.
He likes hearing a bell ring, and has a Sunday hat, but they don't convey to his mind
any distinct notion of what time of day it is. He has never heard of either a Pew-
opener or a Beadle. Could you not send out some portraits of celebrated Pew-openers
and Beadles ? And get up a subscription for my Sleigh-driver's conversion. He'd
like it, and so should I.
Sunday over.—On to Khiva. Met a Post with letters. Couldn't read the letters.
I think we are on the right road now.
Monday, 11 a.m.—Crossed the Oxus for the seventh time. That's the worst of a
Circus Horse. And as the Donkey wouldn't go, we were compelled to leave him behind.
If I could only find my compass, I might keep the horse straight. Snow thick. My
new Frigimometer (especially invented for this climate, and patented, of course) marks
the temperature at '000075° below Double Zero. This is cold ! Somebodv comine.
*
Nothing is more important for the Public at home, whether intending individually,
or collectively, to ride to Khiva, than to understand the country. In case of our being
drawn into a war, let me give this hint to the Government : The Frontier is better for
seeing than the back-tier. It is easily defended, and without any expense to speak
of. Send me out a few good Policemen of the A Division who know their business,
I '11 go out as a Special, and undertake to clear the place of any Russians. India is safe
for the present, but Khiva ought to be our Bow Street, and myself the Sitting Magistrate.
From riding so much—and, mind, a donkey is quite another sort of animal to a
horse (let me tell the Public, who rightly admire Captain- Burnaby, that it isn't every
cross-country man who has a good seat on a donkey)—I have an excellent seat; and,
therefore, as the Easterns know this, they would receive me as a Sitting Magistrate
where they would look with contempt on an unknown individual, however great his
other qualifications might bo. Here, riding on a donkey is a compliment to the
Natives. Here follows my map, which, if rough, is at least drawn by an honest
hand, and will prove invaluable : —
1. First turnpike.—2. Sign-post—names on it almost illegible.—3. Snow country. Capital
opportunity for a ballet.—4. Cross roads—a real puzzler.—5. "Winter Palace of the Great
Mogul.—6. Short cut to Khiva—not mentioned in the ordinary guide-books.— 7- Fields,
where " Trespassers will be Prosecuted."'—8. Circussia, where the trained steeds for Circusses
are.—9, 10. Good road; well adapted for troops.—11. Very fair Temperance Hotel. Recom-
mended by the Faculty.—12. Mountainous Passes. {Passes only admit two to Upper
Circles.) Ravines. (7J«-vines where GUATE-shot might be useful. Jeu de mot, registered.)
—13. Snow-covered deceptive volcano. {Mentioned by the Latin Poet, " Arma virumque
vol-cano.")—14. Frozen Lake. Good effect with a lime-light. Excellent place for a Skating
Club. Easily crossed by Troops, if supplied with my new (patented) rink skates.—
a, b, c, d, e,f. Boarding-houses on the borders. Most important strategical position. Great
chance for a big Hotel and a Theatre. Put Police at the doors, and don't allow any Russian
to come in without an Order. No one admitted after 7'30 p.m. No fees.—15. My shortest,
quickest, and cheapest way back to London, via Monaco and Paris.
Question by Sir Henry Hawkins. — " Am I not a Judge and a Brother ? "