DOI issue:
February 12, 1881
DOI Page / Citation link:https://doi.org/10.11588/diglit.17750#0073
February 12, 1881.] PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.
NOTES FROM THE DIARY OF A CITY WAITER.
ove change!? not as a rule I
doesn't ; but I .begins to
think as sumthink might
be done to make our Sun-
days in London just a leetle
more cheerful. Of course
I don't mean nun of your
Continenshal wickedness
as I 've heard spoke of
sumtimes, such as Horse
Racing and Theayters ; no
no, nothink of that dredful
sort; but I sertenly do wish
as our Sundays wasn't quite
so dredful dull as they are.
Now here am I and my two
boys, of course we've no
professhunal engagements
on that day, and what on
airth to do with ourselves
we don't know. If it appens
to be fiae, of course, after
church, we goes for a walk,
but it seems every year that
we has to go further and
further to get into the
country, and, as everybody
knows, about three times
out of four the wether's
somethink howdacious.
Then what are we to do ?
There ain't no Libery open,
or we should go there and
look at sum picter books. There's one great book that I myself am
rayther fond of looking', at called Wanity Fare, that has picturs of
all our Publick men, and makes 'em all look like Ideots, or Lunertics,
or Monkeys, drawn by a Gent of the name of Ape. I 'm not werry
ansum myself, and that book's a grate comfort to me. I wunder
some werry ill-natured feller don't try a simelar book of our beautiful
Ladies, for all the plane women would be sure to buy it.
William is rather fond of Wunderful Historys, such as Gullivefs
Travels, Baron Munchausen, Stanley's Livingstone, and the Rabian
Knights, and some of the things as he reads in them and tells us of
arterwards, are real staggerers. My Missus acshally says as she
don't believe half on 'em ; but then, unfortnitly, her eddicashun
was a good deal niglected.
I shouldn't think myself it could well be considered a kind of
wicked deborchery to go to the British Museum and see all the wun-
derful things there ; but no, it's all shut up, and so is the Nashunal
Gallery with all its beautiful picters. To be sure there's plenty of City
Churches open in the arternoon, but they don't seem much used.
For instance, me and William went into a nice little Church in
Cheapside one Sunday, and there was only one person besides us, and
she was only a old woman. The service was one of the regular old
sort, with the Clerk in a little box all to himself, to say Amen, and
after it was over, he came to me and he said, if we werry much
wished it, the Wicar would preach us a sermon, but there was a
capital precher over the way, and should we mind going there. So
up we got and went out, and didn't trouble the capital precher over
the way.
Well, as we was a going home, who should come dashing along
but the Lord Mare in his Dutiful Carridge with his 2 Footmen, and
the Sheriffs in their butiful Carridge with their footmen, and a
Bishop in his britiful Carridge with his footmen, and the hunder
Sheriffs and lots of Common Councilmen and Churchwardens, all
going off to the Manshun House to Lunch !
" Hullo," says William, " this seems a rum go ! We can't go to
a Libery or a Museum or a Picter Gallery because we 're told it
would make people work on Sunday, but how about the Coachman
and the Footmun, and the Cook and all the rest on 'em at the Man-
shun House Luncheon! Ah," says he, "this is a rum sort of world,
Guvnor, and must take a chap a jolly long time afore he understands
it all."
We took a long walk after this, and being preshus thirsty we
wanted summat to drink, but no Pnblic House was open 'cause it was
agin the law. We met a very respectable Policeman and asked him
what we should do, and he said with a smile, you ought to belong to
a Club, and then you can have anythink you likes, at any time,
that's Club Law; or, says William, you ought to be a Bishop, and
lunch with the Lord Mare.
Bobby was a wery intelligent man, and told us that some of the
Chemists in the neighbourhood made up prescripshuns for thirsty
soles that very few people would know from Brandy and Water, and
all we had to do was to ring the bell and ask 'em to make up Dr.
Walker's prescripshun for preventing of English Collery! As I
don't want to get noboddy into trouble, I says no more, except this,
that where there's a will there's ginerally someboddy over the way.
I was having a chat the other day with a poor forren Waiter who
had bin dismist from a West end house because he wouldn't pay a
lot of fines for the most trifleing things. For instance, fancy fining
a poor Waiter 2s. 6d. for helping hisself to the wing of a foul, and
Is. for agreeing with a Kustomer that the fish wasn't so fresh as the
butter, and 6d. for reading Punch, and 6c/. for larfing at it, and
2s. 6d. for smoking, and this in a land of freedom! He assures me
it's all fax, and; his fines cum to 31s. in a fortnite, and as he
wouldn't pay he was sacked. Well, we was a talkin about Sundays,
and to show what a strange sort of chap he is, he acshually said that
he thort a man showed as much thankfulness and gratitood by
looking appy and injoying hisself, as he does by looking miserable
and being as miserable as he looks, p'raps more, but of course he 's
only a ignorant Frenchman ! Why he once went so far as to say
that Religion ought to make us cheerfuller and appier. Ah, I
minder if he's ever been to Glasgow !
I remember werry well when I was fust married, I was engaged
at the Wite Art at Winser, and many a time have I took my Missus
on my arm and gone and prommenarded on the Slopes on a Sunday
Arternoon, while a fine Milingtery Band played lots of jolly toones
for our emusement.
I also knows I can see plenty of picters, if I goes to Ampton
Court, but Ampton 's a long ways off, and Winser s longer, and I
wants my rashernal emusement here, in London. If it's all wrong,
it must be wrong everywheres. If it's all right, why make it so
difficult to get at ?
I paws for a Reply.
Let the Queen's Bench of Bishops anser if they can.
VALENTINES.
{From Lord Randolph Churchill to Mr. Gladstone.)
With your party I '11 combine,
Take me for your Valentine.
[From an Eminent Finn of Solicitors to " The Serjeant.")
Ok a brief your name we '11 sign,
You shall be our Ballantine.
[From Mr. Val. Pritisep to the Academy Hangers.)
Yotr must hang me on the line,
For I am your Valentine.
OUR BOOKING OFFICE.
The Mysteri/ in Palace Gardens. By Mrs. Riddell. The mys-
tery as a puzzle is a good specimen of a Riddell. We won't give it
up till we've quite finished it. (Bailley & Son.)
3Iiss Coble on the Duties of Women. Miss Cobbe on her hobby.
The object generally is to show that, like the Grey Mare, the Cobbe
is the better horse. (Williams & Norgate.)
The Spirit of the Matterhorn. A Poem by Lord Qiteensberry.
Ought to be the story of a climb, showing how the Spirit-flask was
used in the ascent of the Matterhorn, and what that Spirit was.
(Hurst & Blackett.)
Mrs. Ramsbotham asked her niece to read out a list of books to
her. The latter commenced with The Life of Cicero, by Anthony
Trollope.
" Sissy Roive," repeated Mrs. Ramsbotham. " Oh, one of Trol-
lope's heroines. What else ? "
" Broken lAghts," read out the niece.
" What a title ! " exclaimed Mrs. Ramsbotham. " Might as well
call it How to Keep a Cat on a Farthing a Day." The worthy lady
refused to listen to any explanation.
Our Future Highway. By V. Lovett Cameron. (Macmillan &
Co.) To judge by the title, this should be a book most dangerous to
the morals of our juvenile offenders, who would learn from its pages
how to become Our Future Highwaymen. Oddly enough "Lovett"
was the pseudonym adopted by the celebrated Paul Oltfeord, the
history of whose gallant career has produced many a successful and
unsuccessful imitator.
Incredible Thirsty. By the Author of Unknown Hungary, is not
in the Press.
Mr. George Meredith, will, of■ course, follow up The Tragic
Comedians, with The Comic Tragedians. He has not yet announced
whether the first of the series will be Mr. Irving, or Mr. Toole._
The Power of Sound. (Smith, Elder, & Co.) Sound and sensible.
The present known limit of the power of Sound is when the Tele-
phone Company comes in contact with the Government.
NOTES FROM THE DIARY OF A CITY WAITER.
ove change!? not as a rule I
doesn't ; but I .begins to
think as sumthink might
be done to make our Sun-
days in London just a leetle
more cheerful. Of course
I don't mean nun of your
Continenshal wickedness
as I 've heard spoke of
sumtimes, such as Horse
Racing and Theayters ; no
no, nothink of that dredful
sort; but I sertenly do wish
as our Sundays wasn't quite
so dredful dull as they are.
Now here am I and my two
boys, of course we've no
professhunal engagements
on that day, and what on
airth to do with ourselves
we don't know. If it appens
to be fiae, of course, after
church, we goes for a walk,
but it seems every year that
we has to go further and
further to get into the
country, and, as everybody
knows, about three times
out of four the wether's
somethink howdacious.
Then what are we to do ?
There ain't no Libery open,
or we should go there and
look at sum picter books. There's one great book that I myself am
rayther fond of looking', at called Wanity Fare, that has picturs of
all our Publick men, and makes 'em all look like Ideots, or Lunertics,
or Monkeys, drawn by a Gent of the name of Ape. I 'm not werry
ansum myself, and that book's a grate comfort to me. I wunder
some werry ill-natured feller don't try a simelar book of our beautiful
Ladies, for all the plane women would be sure to buy it.
William is rather fond of Wunderful Historys, such as Gullivefs
Travels, Baron Munchausen, Stanley's Livingstone, and the Rabian
Knights, and some of the things as he reads in them and tells us of
arterwards, are real staggerers. My Missus acshally says as she
don't believe half on 'em ; but then, unfortnitly, her eddicashun
was a good deal niglected.
I shouldn't think myself it could well be considered a kind of
wicked deborchery to go to the British Museum and see all the wun-
derful things there ; but no, it's all shut up, and so is the Nashunal
Gallery with all its beautiful picters. To be sure there's plenty of City
Churches open in the arternoon, but they don't seem much used.
For instance, me and William went into a nice little Church in
Cheapside one Sunday, and there was only one person besides us, and
she was only a old woman. The service was one of the regular old
sort, with the Clerk in a little box all to himself, to say Amen, and
after it was over, he came to me and he said, if we werry much
wished it, the Wicar would preach us a sermon, but there was a
capital precher over the way, and should we mind going there. So
up we got and went out, and didn't trouble the capital precher over
the way.
Well, as we was a going home, who should come dashing along
but the Lord Mare in his Dutiful Carridge with his 2 Footmen, and
the Sheriffs in their butiful Carridge with their footmen, and a
Bishop in his britiful Carridge with his footmen, and the hunder
Sheriffs and lots of Common Councilmen and Churchwardens, all
going off to the Manshun House to Lunch !
" Hullo," says William, " this seems a rum go ! We can't go to
a Libery or a Museum or a Picter Gallery because we 're told it
would make people work on Sunday, but how about the Coachman
and the Footmun, and the Cook and all the rest on 'em at the Man-
shun House Luncheon! Ah," says he, "this is a rum sort of world,
Guvnor, and must take a chap a jolly long time afore he understands
it all."
We took a long walk after this, and being preshus thirsty we
wanted summat to drink, but no Pnblic House was open 'cause it was
agin the law. We met a very respectable Policeman and asked him
what we should do, and he said with a smile, you ought to belong to
a Club, and then you can have anythink you likes, at any time,
that's Club Law; or, says William, you ought to be a Bishop, and
lunch with the Lord Mare.
Bobby was a wery intelligent man, and told us that some of the
Chemists in the neighbourhood made up prescripshuns for thirsty
soles that very few people would know from Brandy and Water, and
all we had to do was to ring the bell and ask 'em to make up Dr.
Walker's prescripshun for preventing of English Collery! As I
don't want to get noboddy into trouble, I says no more, except this,
that where there's a will there's ginerally someboddy over the way.
I was having a chat the other day with a poor forren Waiter who
had bin dismist from a West end house because he wouldn't pay a
lot of fines for the most trifleing things. For instance, fancy fining
a poor Waiter 2s. 6d. for helping hisself to the wing of a foul, and
Is. for agreeing with a Kustomer that the fish wasn't so fresh as the
butter, and 6d. for reading Punch, and 6c/. for larfing at it, and
2s. 6d. for smoking, and this in a land of freedom! He assures me
it's all fax, and; his fines cum to 31s. in a fortnite, and as he
wouldn't pay he was sacked. Well, we was a talkin about Sundays,
and to show what a strange sort of chap he is, he acshually said that
he thort a man showed as much thankfulness and gratitood by
looking appy and injoying hisself, as he does by looking miserable
and being as miserable as he looks, p'raps more, but of course he 's
only a ignorant Frenchman ! Why he once went so far as to say
that Religion ought to make us cheerfuller and appier. Ah, I
minder if he's ever been to Glasgow !
I remember werry well when I was fust married, I was engaged
at the Wite Art at Winser, and many a time have I took my Missus
on my arm and gone and prommenarded on the Slopes on a Sunday
Arternoon, while a fine Milingtery Band played lots of jolly toones
for our emusement.
I also knows I can see plenty of picters, if I goes to Ampton
Court, but Ampton 's a long ways off, and Winser s longer, and I
wants my rashernal emusement here, in London. If it's all wrong,
it must be wrong everywheres. If it's all right, why make it so
difficult to get at ?
I paws for a Reply.
Let the Queen's Bench of Bishops anser if they can.
VALENTINES.
{From Lord Randolph Churchill to Mr. Gladstone.)
With your party I '11 combine,
Take me for your Valentine.
[From an Eminent Finn of Solicitors to " The Serjeant.")
Ok a brief your name we '11 sign,
You shall be our Ballantine.
[From Mr. Val. Pritisep to the Academy Hangers.)
Yotr must hang me on the line,
For I am your Valentine.
OUR BOOKING OFFICE.
The Mysteri/ in Palace Gardens. By Mrs. Riddell. The mys-
tery as a puzzle is a good specimen of a Riddell. We won't give it
up till we've quite finished it. (Bailley & Son.)
3Iiss Coble on the Duties of Women. Miss Cobbe on her hobby.
The object generally is to show that, like the Grey Mare, the Cobbe
is the better horse. (Williams & Norgate.)
The Spirit of the Matterhorn. A Poem by Lord Qiteensberry.
Ought to be the story of a climb, showing how the Spirit-flask was
used in the ascent of the Matterhorn, and what that Spirit was.
(Hurst & Blackett.)
Mrs. Ramsbotham asked her niece to read out a list of books to
her. The latter commenced with The Life of Cicero, by Anthony
Trollope.
" Sissy Roive," repeated Mrs. Ramsbotham. " Oh, one of Trol-
lope's heroines. What else ? "
" Broken lAghts," read out the niece.
" What a title ! " exclaimed Mrs. Ramsbotham. " Might as well
call it How to Keep a Cat on a Farthing a Day." The worthy lady
refused to listen to any explanation.
Our Future Highway. By V. Lovett Cameron. (Macmillan &
Co.) To judge by the title, this should be a book most dangerous to
the morals of our juvenile offenders, who would learn from its pages
how to become Our Future Highwaymen. Oddly enough "Lovett"
was the pseudonym adopted by the celebrated Paul Oltfeord, the
history of whose gallant career has produced many a successful and
unsuccessful imitator.
Incredible Thirsty. By the Author of Unknown Hungary, is not
in the Press.
Mr. George Meredith, will, of■ course, follow up The Tragic
Comedians, with The Comic Tragedians. He has not yet announced
whether the first of the series will be Mr. Irving, or Mr. Toole._
The Power of Sound. (Smith, Elder, & Co.) Sound and sensible.
The present known limit of the power of Sound is when the Tele-
phone Company comes in contact with the Government.