DOI Heft:
September 4, 1880
DOI Seite / Zitierlink:https://doi.org/10.11588/diglit.17764#0108
100
PUNCH, OB, THE LONDON UHABiVABl.
[September 4, 1880.
mid-day on Friday, a continuous cantankerous scrimmage of twenty-
one hours, relieved only by Labouc sere’s cynical drollery, and
Sullivan’s “palpable supper” of plum-buns. A reductio ad
absnrdum of “Nights and Suppers with the Q-o ds ” ! The com-
batants, after compromising the credit of the House, and their own
reputation for common sense, compromised also the matter at issue
(which nobody seemed very clearly to understand), and the House
adjourned at ten minutes to one, to re-assemble at two. Then, passing
from Buns to Bunnies, it read the Ground-dame Bill a Third Time,
amidst quite a little shower of classical quotations, and despite, the
fervent denunciations of Jeremiah-NEWDEGate, the dread vaticina-
tions of Cassandra-CnAPUN, and the tart taunts of Thersites-EiCHO.
The latter terrified the House by swearing, with truly tragic inten-
sity, that “ he would rather have his tongue cut out than”—be as
other Members are—even as that renegade Harcoctrt ! The thought
of a tongueless Elcho staggers the alertest fancy, and causes the
keenest intellect to lose its hold of the Categorical Imperative.
Elcho without his tongue ! As easy to imagine Echo herself, having
lost her voice from cold, engaged, like the fair Juliana of poetic
fame, in sucking Ipecacuanha lozenges !
, Then, wearied, by wrangle and long dead-lock
(The fashion, alas! in this long-winded latter day)
The House adjourned about fire o’clock,
To meet again on Saturday !!!
[And Punch is left lamenting
THE BEADLE!
THE LATEST CHRONICLE OF SMALL-BEERJESTER.
ANTHONY DOLLOP.
CHAPTER XIII.
A Rum Shrubbery.
N a small ro
near the hall,
apart from the
dining-room
where Mrs.
Dowbie was
occupied with
her numerous
guests, and far
away even from
the secluded
corner where
the Bishop was
sitting discus
sing old port
and telling
side-splitters in
an under-tone
to his inferior
clergy, Mr.
Mattix _ had
been assisting
his solitary
meditations
with copious
draughts of
the spirituous
liquor of An-
cient Thomas.
His mathematical mind was occupied with a pro-
position which within the next half-hour he was
determined to make to Morleena. He tried to
screw himself up to consort pitch; hut on leaving the room to
follow Morleena, his head came in sudden contact with the sharp
floor, when it struck him that the screwing operation had not been
completely successful, and that there was still a screw loose some-
where—the somewhere being apparently in the region of the knees.
“ Screwed! ” he murmured to himself as he rose from the ground.
“ Screwed, but not sufficiently tight.” And he stammered over the
.five-syllable word as if his tongue were in a knot.
But MoRLEENA.was in view, and, with the influence of the Ancient
Thomas still on him, he assumed a cordial manner as, guiding him-
self by the hedge, he followed her into the shrubbery, and approached
her cautiously.
“ Tchk I ” he said, playfully.
Morleena was startled. She was not aware of having been
pursued.
“ I beg you will leave’me alone,” said she, in a freezing tone.
But a gentleman in whose veins the fire of the Ancient Thomas
still burns, is not so easily frozen.
“ I want to have—li’le”—(he meant “little,” hut emotion pro-
bably choked his utterance)—“ li’le con’sash’n with you,” murmured
Mr. Mattix, tenderly.
“As little as possible,” answered Morleena, seeing no way of
escape, as the man blocked up the narrow path, and extended his
arms so As to clutch both sides of the shrubbery.
The time for letting out his great secret had arrived. How should
he let it out to the best advantage ? It was not like a fly, or a news-
paper, to be let out by the hour. No. It must he done now, or
never; and, on the whole, he preferred now. To fall was, he saw,
inevitable; and to go on his knees would be at once easier, safer,
and .more effective. He knew he was already saying unutterable
things with his eyes, winking and leering, while his face was
wreathed in smiles.
“ Do not arshk mer to leave yer, Morleena,” he whispered, with
the impassioned look of a half-converted satyr—“ Listen, my onion
—I mean my own one ! ” Bat the latter was a stronger expression
than the other, and Morleena drew back. She saw how he was
now, and she could not dissemble an expression of the deepest
disgust.
There are some moments in life when both men and women feel
themselves imperatively called on to make a face; in which not to
do so is a struggle against a very natural revulsion, or is calculated
to excite a disagreeable suspicion. There are people of both sexes
who never make faces even after the most nauseous and blackest of
black draughts; but such are generally dull, close, unimpassioned
spirits, evil-doers, bad livers.
He wished to give her his arm, but Morleena refused it, observing
that she had a very good one of her own.
, “ So you have,” replied Mattix, leering at her more rapturously
than ever—“ so you have : it’s a boo’ful arm. You ’ve got wingsh,
too—I mean two wingsh—like angel—an’ mush speak t’yer.”
“I don’t know what you can have to say to me,” she replied,
steadying her eyeballs previous to knocking him down with one of
them like a nine-pin.
“ Don’tsh yer?” he asked, kneeling on one knee, and steadying
himself with his hands on the other. “ Don’tsh yer ? Lisht, lisht,
0 lisht! ”
“ I must go,” exclaimed Morleena, interrupting him.
“No—don’t go, shweetesht!” he continued, stretching out his
hands towards her. “Don’t go! Don’t be unchrish’un an’ un-
kind!” Then, as unable to pass him as though he were a bad
shilling, she turned on her heel, and walked away.
He followed her for some distance on his knees, and then suddenly
plunging forward, he grasped her hand, exclaiming,
“ 0 boo’ful creeshur I Boo’ful creeshur ! I love yer to subshtrac-
shun! ” And with considerable cleverness he suddenly contrived
to pass his arm round her waist.
But Morleena was too quick for him.
“Waist not, want not! ” she cried, and dealt him such a terrible
smack with that little hand of hers, which had had some previous
practice on the devoted head of John Bounce, and, as my readers
know, had sent that eminent reformer flying.
“ You’re an abominable, horrid, hypocritical man ! ” she screamed
in her just wrath; “and it would serve you right if I told your
bishop of you, it would! You’re a fulsome, fawning, canting,
abominable, odious, nasty, spirituous man! But I’ve a brother-in-
law to protect me ; and—ah!—would you ? ” she suddenly broke
off, as the undaunted Mattix, whose passions the box on the ear had
only still further inflamed, tried to imprint a burning kiss on her
glowing cheek, and, without more ado, she gave him one on the left,
another on the right, followed closely by two more sounding thuds
on the side of his head, that sent him through the bushes and down
the slope into the deep muddy ditch below, and there leaving him,
she walked away triumphantly, only anxious to wash her hands of
the contagion as soon as possible.
Mr. Mattix, for whom I confess I have no more love than has
Morleena, and not a whit more pity, overcome by the excitement
and the unwonted exercise, and weakened by the fast evaporating
fumes of the Ancient Thomas, lay nnconscious until he fell into a
deep, sweet, refreshing sleep. And so for the present we will leave
him in the ditch, out of which he was for a long time most unwilling
to come; hut when he did come out, it is almost needless to add that
he came out uncommonly strong.
And now it is to be feared that every well-bred reader of these
pages will lay down the book in disgust. What! This a heroine
worthy of sympathy ? She is a hoyden, not a lady; a romp, a
coquette, a muscular unchristian woman, a young virago, a bold bad
thing, a minx, a hussy, a tartar, a Helen Macgregor, a Catherine
of Russia, a Queen Bess, a Lucrezia Borgia, a rum ’un, a Tom-boy,
a tigress, a lioness, a gymnast, an Amazon—in fact, a bad lot.
Well, jierhaps she cannot be altogether defended; and though I
am responsible t.o a certain extent, yet I must candidly own that her
PUNCH, OB, THE LONDON UHABiVABl.
[September 4, 1880.
mid-day on Friday, a continuous cantankerous scrimmage of twenty-
one hours, relieved only by Labouc sere’s cynical drollery, and
Sullivan’s “palpable supper” of plum-buns. A reductio ad
absnrdum of “Nights and Suppers with the Q-o ds ” ! The com-
batants, after compromising the credit of the House, and their own
reputation for common sense, compromised also the matter at issue
(which nobody seemed very clearly to understand), and the House
adjourned at ten minutes to one, to re-assemble at two. Then, passing
from Buns to Bunnies, it read the Ground-dame Bill a Third Time,
amidst quite a little shower of classical quotations, and despite, the
fervent denunciations of Jeremiah-NEWDEGate, the dread vaticina-
tions of Cassandra-CnAPUN, and the tart taunts of Thersites-EiCHO.
The latter terrified the House by swearing, with truly tragic inten-
sity, that “ he would rather have his tongue cut out than”—be as
other Members are—even as that renegade Harcoctrt ! The thought
of a tongueless Elcho staggers the alertest fancy, and causes the
keenest intellect to lose its hold of the Categorical Imperative.
Elcho without his tongue ! As easy to imagine Echo herself, having
lost her voice from cold, engaged, like the fair Juliana of poetic
fame, in sucking Ipecacuanha lozenges !
, Then, wearied, by wrangle and long dead-lock
(The fashion, alas! in this long-winded latter day)
The House adjourned about fire o’clock,
To meet again on Saturday !!!
[And Punch is left lamenting
THE BEADLE!
THE LATEST CHRONICLE OF SMALL-BEERJESTER.
ANTHONY DOLLOP.
CHAPTER XIII.
A Rum Shrubbery.
N a small ro
near the hall,
apart from the
dining-room
where Mrs.
Dowbie was
occupied with
her numerous
guests, and far
away even from
the secluded
corner where
the Bishop was
sitting discus
sing old port
and telling
side-splitters in
an under-tone
to his inferior
clergy, Mr.
Mattix _ had
been assisting
his solitary
meditations
with copious
draughts of
the spirituous
liquor of An-
cient Thomas.
His mathematical mind was occupied with a pro-
position which within the next half-hour he was
determined to make to Morleena. He tried to
screw himself up to consort pitch; hut on leaving the room to
follow Morleena, his head came in sudden contact with the sharp
floor, when it struck him that the screwing operation had not been
completely successful, and that there was still a screw loose some-
where—the somewhere being apparently in the region of the knees.
“ Screwed! ” he murmured to himself as he rose from the ground.
“ Screwed, but not sufficiently tight.” And he stammered over the
.five-syllable word as if his tongue were in a knot.
But MoRLEENA.was in view, and, with the influence of the Ancient
Thomas still on him, he assumed a cordial manner as, guiding him-
self by the hedge, he followed her into the shrubbery, and approached
her cautiously.
“ Tchk I ” he said, playfully.
Morleena was startled. She was not aware of having been
pursued.
“ I beg you will leave’me alone,” said she, in a freezing tone.
But a gentleman in whose veins the fire of the Ancient Thomas
still burns, is not so easily frozen.
“ I want to have—li’le”—(he meant “little,” hut emotion pro-
bably choked his utterance)—“ li’le con’sash’n with you,” murmured
Mr. Mattix, tenderly.
“As little as possible,” answered Morleena, seeing no way of
escape, as the man blocked up the narrow path, and extended his
arms so As to clutch both sides of the shrubbery.
The time for letting out his great secret had arrived. How should
he let it out to the best advantage ? It was not like a fly, or a news-
paper, to be let out by the hour. No. It must he done now, or
never; and, on the whole, he preferred now. To fall was, he saw,
inevitable; and to go on his knees would be at once easier, safer,
and .more effective. He knew he was already saying unutterable
things with his eyes, winking and leering, while his face was
wreathed in smiles.
“ Do not arshk mer to leave yer, Morleena,” he whispered, with
the impassioned look of a half-converted satyr—“ Listen, my onion
—I mean my own one ! ” Bat the latter was a stronger expression
than the other, and Morleena drew back. She saw how he was
now, and she could not dissemble an expression of the deepest
disgust.
There are some moments in life when both men and women feel
themselves imperatively called on to make a face; in which not to
do so is a struggle against a very natural revulsion, or is calculated
to excite a disagreeable suspicion. There are people of both sexes
who never make faces even after the most nauseous and blackest of
black draughts; but such are generally dull, close, unimpassioned
spirits, evil-doers, bad livers.
He wished to give her his arm, but Morleena refused it, observing
that she had a very good one of her own.
, “ So you have,” replied Mattix, leering at her more rapturously
than ever—“ so you have : it’s a boo’ful arm. You ’ve got wingsh,
too—I mean two wingsh—like angel—an’ mush speak t’yer.”
“I don’t know what you can have to say to me,” she replied,
steadying her eyeballs previous to knocking him down with one of
them like a nine-pin.
“ Don’tsh yer?” he asked, kneeling on one knee, and steadying
himself with his hands on the other. “ Don’tsh yer ? Lisht, lisht,
0 lisht! ”
“ I must go,” exclaimed Morleena, interrupting him.
“No—don’t go, shweetesht!” he continued, stretching out his
hands towards her. “Don’t go! Don’t be unchrish’un an’ un-
kind!” Then, as unable to pass him as though he were a bad
shilling, she turned on her heel, and walked away.
He followed her for some distance on his knees, and then suddenly
plunging forward, he grasped her hand, exclaiming,
“ 0 boo’ful creeshur I Boo’ful creeshur ! I love yer to subshtrac-
shun! ” And with considerable cleverness he suddenly contrived
to pass his arm round her waist.
But Morleena was too quick for him.
“Waist not, want not! ” she cried, and dealt him such a terrible
smack with that little hand of hers, which had had some previous
practice on the devoted head of John Bounce, and, as my readers
know, had sent that eminent reformer flying.
“ You’re an abominable, horrid, hypocritical man ! ” she screamed
in her just wrath; “and it would serve you right if I told your
bishop of you, it would! You’re a fulsome, fawning, canting,
abominable, odious, nasty, spirituous man! But I’ve a brother-in-
law to protect me ; and—ah!—would you ? ” she suddenly broke
off, as the undaunted Mattix, whose passions the box on the ear had
only still further inflamed, tried to imprint a burning kiss on her
glowing cheek, and, without more ado, she gave him one on the left,
another on the right, followed closely by two more sounding thuds
on the side of his head, that sent him through the bushes and down
the slope into the deep muddy ditch below, and there leaving him,
she walked away triumphantly, only anxious to wash her hands of
the contagion as soon as possible.
Mr. Mattix, for whom I confess I have no more love than has
Morleena, and not a whit more pity, overcome by the excitement
and the unwonted exercise, and weakened by the fast evaporating
fumes of the Ancient Thomas, lay nnconscious until he fell into a
deep, sweet, refreshing sleep. And so for the present we will leave
him in the ditch, out of which he was for a long time most unwilling
to come; hut when he did come out, it is almost needless to add that
he came out uncommonly strong.
And now it is to be feared that every well-bred reader of these
pages will lay down the book in disgust. What! This a heroine
worthy of sympathy ? She is a hoyden, not a lady; a romp, a
coquette, a muscular unchristian woman, a young virago, a bold bad
thing, a minx, a hussy, a tartar, a Helen Macgregor, a Catherine
of Russia, a Queen Bess, a Lucrezia Borgia, a rum ’un, a Tom-boy,
a tigress, a lioness, a gymnast, an Amazon—in fact, a bad lot.
Well, jierhaps she cannot be altogether defended; and though I
am responsible t.o a certain extent, yet I must candidly own that her