Punch (73.1877)

INOPPORTUNE.

Be Brown (on a Visit in the neighbourhood, thought he'd like to see his friend Bord Wickworth's Collection of Old Masters). " Can I see
the Pictures ?"

Upper Servant. ""Well, I 'ardly think you can—just now. We 'he just a-goin' to 'ave our Luncheon. 'Adn'd you

better look in again by'mby ? ! "

" Again," he says, "this one black note, that represents at the
same time both C sharp and D flat, must he a very imperfect inven-
tion. It is impossible that C sharp and D flat can be the same
sounds."

" Quite," I say; then 1 add, as persuasively as I can, "You'd be
all the better for a little exercise, and come back quite fresh to
work."

No. He won't move. He simply says, " Don't stop for me," and
turns once more to the piano. " 1 say," he calls out as I am quitting
the room, '' you might turn over the libretto while you 're out
walking. And when you come back I don't mind walking with you
as far as the Pond to see how the Trimmer's getting on."

Hang the Trimmer ! Where's the Poet, Hamlin, Mumxey ; per-
haps he'11 come. There he is in the middle of the lawn, not far
from the Pond. He and the Peruvian Goose together, facing one
another at a distance of about six feet, and contemplating each
other in a drowsy stupid fashion, as if they were both waiting for
an inspiration. On coming up towards them, I notice that while
the Poet is regarding the Goose with interest, as though he were
mentally commencing a poem, beginning with, " 0, strange Peru-
vian Goose, whose-, &c." The Goose, on the other hand, is ap-
parently fast asleep. The Poet has mesmerised the Goose, and as
Mumley seems to be unable to remove his eyes off the bird, the
Goose has mesmerised the Poet.

Happy Thought .—The Pond has already suggested The Butler
and the Eel as a ballad. Now the next is The Poet and the Peru-
vian Goose—The collection of poems to be called The Boodels
Ballads.

I rouse Mumley from his lethargy. The Goose opens his eyes
and wobbles his tail. Will the Poet come out for a walk ? There
is, I tell him by way of inducement, a beautiful view from the top
of some hill near here. No. He thanks me ; he will another day,
but just now he is rather anxious about the Trimmer. Why not
come down as far as the Pond (that is, about ten vards), and look at
the Trimmer ? That, he adds, " will be exercise.5' Mllburd comes

in through a gate, flushed and hot. " I '11 go with you. Where ? "
he shouts.

_ "Ah, it's too late now," I say, evasively. "I only wanted a
little exercise."

" If you want exercise, old boy," he shouts, though I 'm quite
close to him, " you go into the field there where the cow is. Ha !
ha ! ha! She's as mad as a hatter, and she '11 give you some exer-
cise. Ha! ha! ha! I should like to see you cutting round the
field, with the old cow after you ! Ha! ha! ha! "

Milburd Junior's jokes are most offensive; and he is always
seeing fun in what might result in some most serious, if not abso-
lutely fatal, accident. Suppose I did go into the field, supposing
the cow were to run at me, and I couldn't get away quickly enough,
would. Milburd ever forgive himself, for, as it were, having dared
me to the encounter ?

"I wonder," cries Milburd, "how the Trimmer's getting on."
And off go Mumley and Milburd to the pond. Where can I go for
exercise ? To the Trimmer ? No, I will not go to the Trimmer. Then
where ? This opens my eyes to the fact that_ the boundaries for
exercise within the Boodels' domain are limited. For example,
when you want to walk in the Kitchen Garden, you are strongly
advised not to, on account of the bees. This is enforced by Boodels
with a story of how the bees (not his, but some bees of his acquaint-
ance) once swarmed on a man in a garden. The man was standing
still (just as the Poet does when he thinks he has an idea), and one
bee came on to his nose. The man, having considerable presence of
mind, didn't attempt to brush it off, as he knew that he would be
stung. The bee remained on the tip of his nose. To this bee came
another, and clung on to the first bee ; then came a third, and clung
on to bee number two : then came a fourth, and so on, until gradu-
ally, within an hour, nearly a thousand bees had swarmed and were
hanging, in a bunch, from his nose. He dared not stir ; he couldn't
speak ; he couldn't be fed; no one could venture to come near him
until the bees had finished swarming, and they often take a couple
of days to finish swarming. Fortunately for him, these bees got it