Punch (72.1877)

June 9, 1877.]

PUNCH, OK THE LONDON CHARIVARI.

263

DIARY OF MY RIDE TO KHIVA.

{Forwarded as usual by Private Wire .)*

3 p.m.—They are gaining on us! Their notes since
their awful repast are quite changed. I can
detect in their howls the notes of the various
compositions they have swallowed. Above
all, I hear the highest note (by two wolves
in unison) of the " Suoni la Trornba.'" . . .
I shall write an Opera if I ever get out of
this sleigh alive! . . . It will he Mazeppa.'
and in one Act a panorama of his wild career,
with such orchestration for the wolves as the
world has never heard. Early application
from music-publishers necessary. . . . Cry
from the Boy,in the rumble. . . . "Oh!" It
is a cry" of agony. . . . .al wolf, in advance of the rest, has pome up with him. The Boy, over-
dosed with buns, was asleep as he sat leaning forward with his head on the hood. Like Achilles,
here was one vulnerable point. The wolf saw it! . . .

Halt!— for one instant. Unfair Circassian fainting, Sleigh-driver invisible in his capes. The
boot suddenly opens. Pig out furious; flies.at wolf. Wolf, a young one, astonished at Pig—
never seen a pig before. Deadly encounter. "Wolf floored. Triumph. Dance of everybody in the
snow. Fireworks. Wickski for Pig. Wickski all round. Onward! . . . Wolves eat their com-
panion. . . . Another respite.

Donkey and Horse dead beat. If they stop, we are lost. They are panting, lame, limping!!
Ha.! The private telegraph wire with battery ! Attach it to Horse and Donkey. Wire in! Work
the battery. Send startling messages to both of them. On they go by electricity! Steam sur-
passed !! ! Saved! Saved!-for the "present.

8.—Dinner-time. Still flying onwards. Wolves distanced. Ha! The towers of the old Cathe-
dral of St. Vitus within four miles! !

815.—Horror! Wire broken connecting Horse and Donkey. Donkey drops down dead. On
examination we find that he has been defunct for some hours past, but his muscular power has
been kept in action by the electricity. We leave him for the wolves. On again! On further
examination I ascertain, having been something of a Vet in my time, that the horse also has been
dead some hours, but the electric current is still passing through the wire to him, and so the muscular
action is kept up. This gives the lie to the old Russian proverb about "wo use trying to drive
a dead horse." I am doing so, and we could win a Derby like this. What a subject for a legendary
poem! The Flying Phantom on the Dead Horse! I must send it to Wagner. He would have
preferred it to the Flying Dutchman. (I make this note in my Diary with my hands frozen as
we gallop onward in the moonlight.)

10.—Night. Moon shining. Battery getting weaker and weaker. Horse consequently more and
more feeble. Wolves gaining on us. Now—how about throwing over the children as they did in
the story p The Fair Circassian suggests giving the"Pig to the wolves. I open the boot. The Pig
has^ overheard us. He has the letters of the Alphabet before'him and has spelt out " No, please
donH ! " Touching scene. Reminds me of Arthur and Hubert in the Tower. Arthur (by Learned
Pig)» Hubert (by Myself). This will be a good interlude when the Circus is once started. Would
tell m the season at the Egyptian Hall. Music. "Woodman spare that Pig ! ."' . . . Wolves on
w. • . . The towers of Gladitzova in sight. . . . Electricity stopping. Horse dropping. . . .
Children must be thrown over, or the Unfair Circassian. . . . Begin with Sleigh-driver's Boy. . . .
Sleigh-driver's Boy suggests beginning with Sleigh-driver. . . . The wolves are within two-
hundred yards of us. . . . It must be done. . . . The Sleigh-driver has five capes, a thick fur
coat, and a whip. . . . With the whip he can defend himself, and the wolves will be a long time
before they get through his capes, his boots, and at him. . . . Wolves within one hundred

* Next week we shall have something to say ahout Private "Wire. At present we can only guardedly remark
that we think a Private "Wire is a Wonderful Invention.—Ed.

yards. . . . One wild cry. ... A
struggle. . . . 'Tis done !!!...

* * * *

Gladitzova at last! At the gate
of the town the electric battery
bursts. The faithful Circus Horse
drops. Alas! poor Black Bess!
Thou wert a gay lass 1 Better mare
was never foaled! Ah! what a
chance I've lost in not being able to
play Dick Turpin's Bide to Khiva ! !
Well, well, thou wert eighteenpence
an hour, and the contract was, dis-
tinctly, from London to Khiva. Thy
master will lose his money, for thou,

0 gallant mare, hast broken the con-
tract, and my heart! Quifacit per
alium facit per se, and I do not pay
thine owner, my sweet Black Bess !
Peace to thy manes!—I mean thy
mane, for thou hadst but one.

And the Sleigh-driver! He was
to have reported himself to the
livery stable at Gladitzova—but he
cannot do so now. Poor fellow! I
was to have paid and discharged him
at Khiva, and here we are at Gladit-
zova, only a few miles from our ulti-
mate destination, and he has broken
his agreement through being eaten
by the wolves, and I have therefore
no one to pay. Such is life! I ex-
plained all this to the livery stable-
keeper here, who is in correspondence
with my Sleigh-owner at St.'Peters-
burg. We shall only stop here a
night just to give one performance
with the Learned Pig, the Hairless
Circassian, and Our Boys, for the
benefit 'of the Wanderers' Home.
Then on to Khiva. We expect to be
at Khiva early to-morrow.

My beard and moustache are still
in icicles. On applying hot water
to my face, it caused my head to
swell out suddenly to the size of a
pantomime mask. This will be use-
ful in the Circus entertainment, but

1 can't go out till night time. How-
ever, it's good for business. The hair
of Our Boys is quite white by now.
They are premature old men. Ah
me!, a thing to shudder at, not
to see. On to Khiva. Where's

cheque ?

# * * *

I have just walked round the
ramparts. In the distance I can
see Khiva. It is within a walk. But
I am 'bound to ride—not walk—to
Khiva, and I am a man of my word.

FOR OUR "TWO GENTLEMEN."

THE horse AND HIS OWNER.

{Slightly altered from Shaespeare's.)

Who is Silvio f What is he,
That tips nor touts commend him ?

Flyer both and stayer he,
And luck did Archer send him,

That well-ridden he might be !,

Was he fit as he was fair,
Whence the tipsters' blindness ?

Blair AthoVs son by Silverhair
Might have earned more kindness

Than twelve to one, and backers
rare!

Then to Silvio let us sing,
The Derby field excelling :

And Lord FAXMOTjTH.from the ring
Tribute fair compelling—

To both their Blue Ribbon bring !