Punch (81.1881)

December 31, 1881.] PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. Hi

MR. PUNCH entered the Cave.
" Take a rock," said iEoLus, his face brightening as the radiant presence of his Visitor lighted up the gusty
recesses of his abode, " take a rock ; do—and make yourself comfortable."
The genial Sage sat down.

" I had been hoping you might look in," continued the aged Custodian, hospitably producing an imperial pint of
bottled Boreas as he spoke; " for, to tell you the truth, though Winds is noisy company, it's dull work up here all by one-
self. There hasn't been one of 'em at home, for ever so long."

His Visitor gave a knowing nod of acquiescence.

" So I should say," he replied, "judging from the amount of blowing and blustering that has been going on outside
pretty well everywhere else of late."

"Been as bad as that, has it?" asked iEoLus, reflectively. "Well, I know they will give themselves airs ; but,
bless you, whatever Lempkiere says about my proper business, what's the good, I should like to know, of my keeping 'em
all boxed up here ? Why, what would you do in a fog without 'em ? Smoke abatement dodges, indeed ! Gammon !—that's
what I call them. Give me a stiff Sou'-Wester."

" An excellent refresher in its way," replied Mb. Punch, approvingly, " saving the presence of the Underwriters, who
have latterly, I fear, been singing, 'Oh, blow the gentle Gales!' to some purpose. But, for the matter of that, reports
from other points of the compass are not much more exhilarating."

"Hum!" rejoined his Host, giving a gloomy look round at the Cavern's mouth; "how about the East?"

" Bad at Wapping, but worse at Constantinople; and, from what I hear, likely to give a severe chill or two to some-
body in the Mediterranean before it has done its biting business. A wind that never brought good to a Britisher yet! Call
that Eastern cuss in, my venerable Custos, as soon as you like; and into your nethermost cupboard with him ! "

Mr. Punch gave a significant wink, and Toby turned his tail contemptuously in the direction of Egypt, in sign of
intelligent approval.

" Well, come, the West's all right, anyhow. You 've nothing against that ? " continued their Classic Interlocutor,
with somewhat diminished confidence.

"Ireland lies West," replied the Sage, curtly.
"Well—South, then?"

" Africa—and that is big enough to hold Kroumirs and Boers; which means plenty of room for a Cyclone. You ask