Punch (73.1877)

131

PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. Member 29, 1877.

''NO MISTAKE THIS TIME."

Arrived at iast ; but nothing so very terrible, after all.

Everybody suddenly remembers tbat he knows a dog that can do something. Even
Buddermer commences a story about a valuable retriever which was given him
some years ago. It interests nobody. He appeals to his wife for corroboration. She
looks up for an instant, and says, " That horrid thing ! I '11 never have another in
the house ! It's all very well for people who understand dogs, but you don't."

After this, Buddermer refreshes himself, but is prudently silent.

"Ah," says Caltop, "you should see Mrs. George Bigg's retrievers. George
Bigg," he explains to everyone, "used to drive in the Park last season. You must
have seen her." This to everyone, beginning with Boodels, who at once "thinks
he remembers her; " then to Buddermer, who appears to be trying to recal all the
people he has ever seen in the Park, in order to single out the lady in question.

" She used to drive four ponies," says Milburd.

" Yes," returns Caltop. " They were the Earl of Ssortland's. One of those
ponies—Jessie, the black one—was no bigger than a Newfoundland, and one day
when a boy fell in the Serpentine, she went for that boy, collared him, and brought
him out.

" They wanted to 6top Georgey Bigg's wife
from coming into the Park followed by all these
animals," continues Caltop; "for he had a
couple of goats, and three fallow deer besides
the ponies. The police were inclined to be rather
rough on Georget, but he got six to four the
best of 'em, and then bet Boss Green—you know
Boss Green ? "—this to Milburd, who nods as-
sent, and we all wonder who Boss Green is, but
don't like to inquire—"a couple of ponies that
he'd take the whole menagerie right through to
the Magazine, when all the four-in-hands were
out."

"And did he?" I ask, vaguely, for I am not
certain whether my inquiry applies to Boss Green,
Geobge Biggs, or Lord Shortland, or perhaps
somebody else whose name I've missed.

"Did he?" exclaims Caltop, as if utterly
astonished at the ignorance displayed by my ques-
tion. " I should rather say he did. They wanted
to stop him. One Bobby tried it on, but Georget
—our Jabgy, as we call him—tipped the peeler a
sparkler (he'd have made it warm for Mj*
Bobby if he hadn't taken it), and then he went,
full split, right up the drive, with all the aniwuVe*
careering after him, a regular buster, before you
could say knife. The Duke couldn't start his
team; it gave him fits! It was real jam to see
little Norris, who was out for the first time, in
a horrid state about his four greys. Georgey did
the trick. They said he hedged the bet, but any-
how he copped Boss Green's fifty quid."

" Rather rough on the Boss," I venture, with a
mild attempt at suiting my conversation to my
company.

"Oh, the Boss I" exclaims Caltop, "he's a
regular mug."

Everyone appears amused, and no one likes to
ask what on earth Caltop means. At this moment
the Poet remarks that there's a fine moon, and
opens the window to look at it. Mrs. Buddermer
asks her husband to give her the slightest drop of
sherry-and-water. This causes the Butler to be
summoned to fetch the sherry; when he appears,
Pogmore complains of the cold in consequence of
the window having been opened. Milburd agrees
that it is cold, and Caltop remembers that he '11
probably have a chilly walk home. Buddermer
casually mentions " hot grog " as the best preven-
tive. Boodels, as host, asks if Caltop would
like some hot grog before he starts, as, if so, the
Butler can make a first-rate brew. Caltop at
first refuses, then alters his mind, and saying,
"I really must go immediately after that," he.
to use his own expression, "goes for that grog.
Milburd admits that he, too, is " Nuts on grog."
I notice that whenever Caltop, or Milburd, likes
anything, they are either " nuts on it," or it is
"real jam" to them. Odd! Pogmore observes
"That he doesn't mind if he does just take a
drop of hot grog." Whereupon Buddermer be-
gins to think that it wouldn't do him any harm,
which evokes a look of surprise, and a warning,
from his "Wife, who, however, consents, after a
very, brief argument, to assist him with a mere
sip. Boodels hasn't taken hot grog for years,
he says, and now they mention it, he rather feels
inclined for it than otherwise. The only one who
has any doubts at all on the advisability of hot
grog is the Poet, who returns from the window
(which we all insist on being shut at once) looking
as if the moon had had some effect on his com-
plexion.

" Have some grog," Caltop suggests to him,
with an aside wink to us ; "just to show there's
no ilhfeeling."

As the ill-feeling, to judge by the Poet's face,
is confined entirely to himself, and has regard to
no one else, the administration of the hot grog is
questionable. Mumlet accepts and subsides into
his arm-chair. The conversation re-commences
on general topics, by which I mean, that, with
the exception of Mumley, who is remarkably
silent, we are all talking, more or less, at once.
The Butler re-appears with double the quantity
of hot grog that was ordered. This probably