July 28, 1877.] PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. 33
QUESTIONS FOR TRAVELLERS.
{From London to Paris.)
At the Charing Cross Station.
Was it worth getting up so early to
catch the tidal train ?
Shall I have my luggage re-
gistered to Folkestone or Boulogne ?
Supposing it is rough, won't it be a
mistake to send my things across the
sea when I shall certainly stop at the
Pavilion ?
Supposing it is fine, won t there he a
great deal of trouble in getting my port-
manteau on to the boat if it
is labelled Folkestone ?
Shall I take a single ticket
or a return for a month ?
Shall I get into a smoking-
carriage with a lot of un-
shaven foreigners, or into a
non-smoking-carriage with a
sour-faced and middle-aged
spinster ?
Shall I take my hat-box
and bag with me, and have
the nuisance of carrying
them, or shall I let them go
into the van, with a chance
of their getting woefully
crushed ?
On Board the Boat.
Is it going to be rough ?
Did the trees look as if there was a good deal of wind ?
Isn't this calmness in the harbour deceptive ?
Shall I sit on the bridge, with the chance of being blown away, or
go down below, with the certainty of seeing the unshaven foreigners
in agonies ?
Shall I accept the offer of the sailor to cover my legs with his
waterproof coat ?
Now that the ropes are gone and the boat is off, don't I think it
would have been wiser to have stayed on shore ?
Will it be much worse than this ?
Now that I can't move to get at my pocket, is it possible that I
may have left my reserve fund of bank-notes at home ?
If I did, how am I to pay my first hotel-bill ?
Can this last much longer ?
Why was I such a fool as to brave the possibility of having to
undergo this ?
Ought I to help that lady ?
Have I forfeited all rights to be called a man of good breeding by
refusing to move to help beauty in dire distress ?
When will that useful Official in the gold-banded cap attend to
me ?
Is suicide justifiable under the present circumstances ?
I3 suicide possible in my feeble state ?
Is it really true that we have only left Folkestone Harbour half
an hour ?
Can human nature endure any further torture ?
Are all the treasures of the Continent worth this misery ?
Would it not have been more patriotic to have stayed in England ?
Have I the strength to find my way to the side of the vessel with
a view to drowning myself ?
Would it be very wicked to murder this Official for asking to see
my ticket r
Is it possible that I have lived to see Boulogne Pier ?
Can I crawl on shore ?
At Boulogne.
Is it possible, in my present state of health, to have a row with
the Douanier for insisting upon looking into my hat-box ?
Am I wise to decide to stay at Boulogne a night to recover from
the fatigues of my voyage ?
Which Hotel shall I go to ?
Which shall I choose, mosquitoes or unpleasant odours ?
Shall I dine at the table d'hute ?
Is this menu of greasy dishes particularly pleasant after my
passage r
Shall I talk to my neighbours ?
Why do English girls on the Continent generally have projecting
teeth, corkscrew curls, and dresses made after a fashion much in
vogue about fifteen years ago ?
Why do Englishmen at Boulogne Hotels look so very different
trom Englishmen everywhere else ?
Is my right-hand neighbour a billiard-marker, or an ex-Captain
of (very) Irregulars ?
Is my left-hand neighbour an Italian nobleman in disguise, or a
fraudulent French bagman ?
Why does every table-d'hote have a vulgar old Irishwoman who
will talk of her titled acquaintances ?
Why do the oldest English inhabitants at French watering-places
seem always to be hiding from their creditors ?
Shall I go to the Etablissement to see the beautiful dancing, or to
the theatre to hear the equally beautiful singing ?
What did the landlord mean by telling me that he could give me
" a veritable English bed ?
Why, during the watches of the night, do I so constantly think
of the Howard family in general, and the Norfolk branch in par-
ticular ?
Shall I venture ?
Is it not a pity that " the Direction " neglects to carpet the wet
and sandy floor of the machines ?
Why did not the Inquisition think of a drive into the sea in a
machine as an appropriate torture for criminals convicted of murder-
ing the Pope ?
Considering the bore of walking through the dry sand and the
people on my way back, and the nuisance of finding all my clothes
on the floor, have I enjoyed my bath ?
Does not this excellent lunch in the cafe on the Pier make amends
for all the miseries I have undergone ?
Arrival at Paris.
How have I survived a tedious journey in a carriage full of ladies
and children ?
Why did the Frenchman who got in at Amiens eat garlic before
commencing his travels ?
Shall I go to a " grand " hotel, where I shall be neglected, or to a
family hotel, where I shall be poisoned ?
Will the sun leave any part of me ungrilled, so that I may ask a
few more questions next week P
BETTER LATE THAN EYER.
When Britannia wiped the undeserved blot from the scutcheon
of the brave Dundonald, she could not undo all the wrong he had
suffered, but she certainly meant that the completest reparation that
could be awarded him should be. Above all, whatever of his loss was
measurable by money, she intended should be made up. But Britan-
nia's servants at the Treasury read her orders differently. " Tout est
perdu fors VJionneur" they construed,"Honour we are forced to give
back—but with a loss of everything else." They restored the rank
which should never have been taken away—small thanks to them !—
but the pay which should have gone with it they kept back, like
dirty dogs as they were ; and, worse still, when his grandson,
the other day, asked for the due so long and cruelly withheld
from the heroic grandsire, Britannia's Treasury servants of to-
day upheld the mean injustice of their predecessors of 1833 and
1847, and refused the pay belonging to the rank and honour so
tardily restored.
But there are official acts of meanness of which even the most
economically-disposed House of Commons scorns to take advantage.
This was one of them. The Select Committee appointed—in the
teeth of Government—to look into Lord Dundonald's claims, which
were all he had to bequeath to his descendant, has reported, as a
body of honest gentlemen needs must, that—
" Complete reparation will not have been done to Lord Dundonald
unless the claim for back pay which he bequeathed to his grandson is recog-
nised. Everything connected with his restoration to the Naval Service and to
his rank and honour proceeded upon the principle that, so far as possible, he
should be placed in the same position as if he had never been removed from
the Service. This appears of necessity to imply that the reparation spoken
of in the Treasury Minute is not complete. In the opinion of your Com-
mittee no technical rule should be permitted to stand in the way of such
reparation, the justice of which seems to follow by a natural inference from
the steps which have already been taken."
So, at last, justice will be done all round. The Government will
stand rebuked for an attempt to set up a technical rule in bar of a just
claim ; and the descendant of a hero will reap some benefit, though
late, from his famous forefather's services, for which his country would
have gladly paid, but the reward of which was unjustly withheld by a
Government unworthy alike of such a country and such a Captain.
con. for the commons,
Here's a conundrum for the Nation
That likes its reasons graced with rhyme :
Why's Parnell like Procrastination ?
Because he is the thief of Time.
QUESTIONS FOR TRAVELLERS.
{From London to Paris.)
At the Charing Cross Station.
Was it worth getting up so early to
catch the tidal train ?
Shall I have my luggage re-
gistered to Folkestone or Boulogne ?
Supposing it is rough, won't it be a
mistake to send my things across the
sea when I shall certainly stop at the
Pavilion ?
Supposing it is fine, won t there he a
great deal of trouble in getting my port-
manteau on to the boat if it
is labelled Folkestone ?
Shall I take a single ticket
or a return for a month ?
Shall I get into a smoking-
carriage with a lot of un-
shaven foreigners, or into a
non-smoking-carriage with a
sour-faced and middle-aged
spinster ?
Shall I take my hat-box
and bag with me, and have
the nuisance of carrying
them, or shall I let them go
into the van, with a chance
of their getting woefully
crushed ?
On Board the Boat.
Is it going to be rough ?
Did the trees look as if there was a good deal of wind ?
Isn't this calmness in the harbour deceptive ?
Shall I sit on the bridge, with the chance of being blown away, or
go down below, with the certainty of seeing the unshaven foreigners
in agonies ?
Shall I accept the offer of the sailor to cover my legs with his
waterproof coat ?
Now that the ropes are gone and the boat is off, don't I think it
would have been wiser to have stayed on shore ?
Will it be much worse than this ?
Now that I can't move to get at my pocket, is it possible that I
may have left my reserve fund of bank-notes at home ?
If I did, how am I to pay my first hotel-bill ?
Can this last much longer ?
Why was I such a fool as to brave the possibility of having to
undergo this ?
Ought I to help that lady ?
Have I forfeited all rights to be called a man of good breeding by
refusing to move to help beauty in dire distress ?
When will that useful Official in the gold-banded cap attend to
me ?
Is suicide justifiable under the present circumstances ?
I3 suicide possible in my feeble state ?
Is it really true that we have only left Folkestone Harbour half
an hour ?
Can human nature endure any further torture ?
Are all the treasures of the Continent worth this misery ?
Would it not have been more patriotic to have stayed in England ?
Have I the strength to find my way to the side of the vessel with
a view to drowning myself ?
Would it be very wicked to murder this Official for asking to see
my ticket r
Is it possible that I have lived to see Boulogne Pier ?
Can I crawl on shore ?
At Boulogne.
Is it possible, in my present state of health, to have a row with
the Douanier for insisting upon looking into my hat-box ?
Am I wise to decide to stay at Boulogne a night to recover from
the fatigues of my voyage ?
Which Hotel shall I go to ?
Which shall I choose, mosquitoes or unpleasant odours ?
Shall I dine at the table d'hute ?
Is this menu of greasy dishes particularly pleasant after my
passage r
Shall I talk to my neighbours ?
Why do English girls on the Continent generally have projecting
teeth, corkscrew curls, and dresses made after a fashion much in
vogue about fifteen years ago ?
Why do Englishmen at Boulogne Hotels look so very different
trom Englishmen everywhere else ?
Is my right-hand neighbour a billiard-marker, or an ex-Captain
of (very) Irregulars ?
Is my left-hand neighbour an Italian nobleman in disguise, or a
fraudulent French bagman ?
Why does every table-d'hote have a vulgar old Irishwoman who
will talk of her titled acquaintances ?
Why do the oldest English inhabitants at French watering-places
seem always to be hiding from their creditors ?
Shall I go to the Etablissement to see the beautiful dancing, or to
the theatre to hear the equally beautiful singing ?
What did the landlord mean by telling me that he could give me
" a veritable English bed ?
Why, during the watches of the night, do I so constantly think
of the Howard family in general, and the Norfolk branch in par-
ticular ?
Shall I venture ?
Is it not a pity that " the Direction " neglects to carpet the wet
and sandy floor of the machines ?
Why did not the Inquisition think of a drive into the sea in a
machine as an appropriate torture for criminals convicted of murder-
ing the Pope ?
Considering the bore of walking through the dry sand and the
people on my way back, and the nuisance of finding all my clothes
on the floor, have I enjoyed my bath ?
Does not this excellent lunch in the cafe on the Pier make amends
for all the miseries I have undergone ?
Arrival at Paris.
How have I survived a tedious journey in a carriage full of ladies
and children ?
Why did the Frenchman who got in at Amiens eat garlic before
commencing his travels ?
Shall I go to a " grand " hotel, where I shall be neglected, or to a
family hotel, where I shall be poisoned ?
Will the sun leave any part of me ungrilled, so that I may ask a
few more questions next week P
BETTER LATE THAN EYER.
When Britannia wiped the undeserved blot from the scutcheon
of the brave Dundonald, she could not undo all the wrong he had
suffered, but she certainly meant that the completest reparation that
could be awarded him should be. Above all, whatever of his loss was
measurable by money, she intended should be made up. But Britan-
nia's servants at the Treasury read her orders differently. " Tout est
perdu fors VJionneur" they construed,"Honour we are forced to give
back—but with a loss of everything else." They restored the rank
which should never have been taken away—small thanks to them !—
but the pay which should have gone with it they kept back, like
dirty dogs as they were ; and, worse still, when his grandson,
the other day, asked for the due so long and cruelly withheld
from the heroic grandsire, Britannia's Treasury servants of to-
day upheld the mean injustice of their predecessors of 1833 and
1847, and refused the pay belonging to the rank and honour so
tardily restored.
But there are official acts of meanness of which even the most
economically-disposed House of Commons scorns to take advantage.
This was one of them. The Select Committee appointed—in the
teeth of Government—to look into Lord Dundonald's claims, which
were all he had to bequeath to his descendant, has reported, as a
body of honest gentlemen needs must, that—
" Complete reparation will not have been done to Lord Dundonald
unless the claim for back pay which he bequeathed to his grandson is recog-
nised. Everything connected with his restoration to the Naval Service and to
his rank and honour proceeded upon the principle that, so far as possible, he
should be placed in the same position as if he had never been removed from
the Service. This appears of necessity to imply that the reparation spoken
of in the Treasury Minute is not complete. In the opinion of your Com-
mittee no technical rule should be permitted to stand in the way of such
reparation, the justice of which seems to follow by a natural inference from
the steps which have already been taken."
So, at last, justice will be done all round. The Government will
stand rebuked for an attempt to set up a technical rule in bar of a just
claim ; and the descendant of a hero will reap some benefit, though
late, from his famous forefather's services, for which his country would
have gladly paid, but the reward of which was unjustly withheld by a
Government unworthy alike of such a country and such a Captain.
con. for the commons,
Here's a conundrum for the Nation
That likes its reasons graced with rhyme :
Why's Parnell like Procrastination ?
Because he is the thief of Time.
Werk/Gegenstand/Objekt
Titel
Titel/Objekt
Punch
Weitere Titel/Paralleltitel
Serientitel
Punch
Sachbegriff/Objekttyp
Inschrift/Wasserzeichen
Aufbewahrung/Standort
Aufbewahrungsort/Standort (GND)
Inv. Nr./Signatur
H 634-3 Folio
Objektbeschreibung
Maß-/Formatangaben
Auflage/Druckzustand
Werktitel/Werkverzeichnis
Herstellung/Entstehung
Künstler/Urheber/Hersteller (GND)
Entstehungsdatum
um 1877
Entstehungsdatum (normiert)
1872 - 1882
Entstehungsort (GND)
Auftrag
Publikation
Fund/Ausgrabung
Provenienz
Restaurierung
Sammlung Eingang
Ausstellung
Bearbeitung/Umgestaltung
Thema/Bildinhalt
Thema/Bildinhalt (GND)
Literaturangabe
Rechte am Objekt
Aufnahmen/Reproduktionen
Künstler/Urheber (GND)
Reproduktionstyp
Digitales Bild
Rechtsstatus
Public Domain Mark 1.0
Creditline
Punch, 73.1877, July 28, 1877, S. 33
Beziehungen
Erschließung
Lizenz
CC0 1.0 Public Domain Dedication
Rechteinhaber
Universitätsbibliothek Heidelberg