Punch (81.1881)

September 10, 1881.] PUNCH, OE THE LONDON CHARIVARI. 109

"WALTON'S COMPLETE BUNGLER.

" Confound it !—and the Fish eising so nicely ! "

PAEALUNE.

a poe-tic ee.a.gatent.

[A. new moonshade, called a Paralune, has been introduced to
preserve Ladies' complexions from trie alleged injurious effects
of moonlight.]

Then I looked round for Sukey, and missed her;

But back she came bounding right soon ;
And I said, " What's the matter, sweet Sister ? "

She pointed at once to the moon,

To the silvery sheeny full moon.
"Hang it, Sukey," I cried, "you're a twister!

What's that ? To explain were a boon."

She replied, "Paralune ! Paralune !

'lis the moonshade, the new Paralune."

Then she said, " She's a danger, is Dian,

A satellite Ladies mistrust,
To the skin she is terribly try in',

And makes one's complexion like dust.

Red, freckled, or dingy as dust—
Nay, tanned like the tawny-maned Lion."

" What nonsense ! " cried I, in disgust.

Sukey sobbed, " You 're unjust, you 're unjust!

And carry a moonshade I must I"

Then I melted, and tried to look pleasant,

And tempted her out 'neath the moon,
Explained the full disc and the crescent,

Each scoriae rock and lagoon ;

And her moonshade she dropped very soon ;
But next morning her nose was rubeseent,

Her temper was much out of tune ;

And she wailed, " Paralune ! Paralune !

'Tis the fault of my lost Paralune ! "

Telegram from the Lazy Minstrel, on the same subject as
our other Poet has chosen s —

Oh, how pleasant 'tis to spoon,

Shaded by a Paralune !

Hang September ! Wish 'twere June,

That would rhyme to Paralune.

Also wish I knew a tune

For a song on Paralune.*

* He is evidently becoming a Paralunatio.—En.

SCIENTIFIC SOUCHET.

(A feio more Notes from Our Deluged Ark-ccologist.)

Tuesday.—Result of getting drenched on journey down, and
hunting for hotel in thunderstorm on arrival yesterday, is that I
can't move a joint this morning. Pain still pouring everywhere in
cataracts. Ask Waiter whether it's always like this at Malvern?
Says it is " mostly," and that two inches and a half at a time " ain't
nothing round the 'ills" ! Tell him I had always heard Malvern
was the driest place in England. Stares. Says with mournful
surprise that he had " never'eared that before;" but that "the
Doctor " will be with me presently. Why the. Doctor f Find I 've
got into an "Establishment" by mistake. Never mind. Glad of
it. Doctor can give me a pick-me-up, and I shall be all ready
for a regular go in at the antiquities to-morrow. Doctor clean
and melancholy. Looks at me, and shaking my hand, says, I'm
a "curable case," and that "the pack" will do wonders for me. Adds,
almost with a smile, "in six months you won't know yourself."
Explain I want to be quite all right to-morrow morning. Give him
his fee. Pockets it sadly, and says if I can't stay in a "pack " for
six months, I had better take a glass of stiff brandy-and-water.
Order up a bottle. Capital brandy. Still pelting. Let it. Think
the brandy is really doing me good. Excellent light reading,
Danvers s Prehistoric Substructures. Funny set of beggars those
ancient Britons. To sleep, fancy I'm walking about in a suit of
woad, talking to the Doctor in two feet and a half of rain-water.

Wednesday.—Still pelting. Cold svmptoms better, but tendency
to headache. Brandy clearly indicated. Try it. Feel better at once.
Look at programme. Nothing in it. Half-a-dozen Abbeys, Manor-
House of Fourteenth Century, Somebody or Something's " remains"
on the top of somewhere, and " place where Margaret of Anjou took
shelter." Evidently she had enough of the "Hills," but couldn't
get an umbrella. Excellent hint. Buy one for myself at York,
Decline to join several invalid antiquarians in a pleasure-van, to
look at " remains," with a hot bottle or two and plenty of blankets
before I start. Fly to station. Porters wet through, and still in low

spirits. Try to cheer them up by alluding to "the Hills the flesh
is heir to." They don't smile. Facetiously ask Book-stall man
whether he isn't afraid of leaving shilling razors about. Sighs
heavily, and says, " He wishes he wos." Off, getting up particulars
of Roman York in a sixpenny history, with my feet freezing.

Thursday.—Drenched last night again. Never mind,—brandy
will soon set that all right. Busy still getting up materials. Queer
sort of name, Eboracum. Wonder how it got into York, from '' Ewer-
wyk." Perhaps after dinner (N.B.— Suggest that to Association.)
Much interested in "indulgence cup" of Archbishop Scropk,
"bearing a promise of forty days' indulgence to those who drunk
from it. Wonder whether there was a regular dead set at it by
pious but convivial Danes. Want awfully to see the "Plotting
Parlour," and Ghost of a Monkey visible between ten and
four daily (at least, I think so) in Clifford's Tower. But feel
chilly. Better stick steadily to brandy-and-water. Have it a little
stiffer. Do, and feel I'd better cure the thing at once. Excellent
brandy. Wish I'd got a French novel. Bother Clifford's Tower
and Archbishop Scrope. Don't believe in 'em. Who does ? Who
comes to York to see Archbishop Scrope—I'd liket' know? Never
mind, here's his health. Then Charles the First ? Go-long with
you. Call him an antiquity ? Not bit of it. Real antiquity of
York is Dick Turpin—Brown Bess and Shyhck—no, I mean Isaac
of York and Be-becca-my■-Neighbour—see Scott's lot. York 'am.
Ther'y'are ! York cheese—ther'y're again. Look't Shakspeare !
"'Las poor Yor'ckl " That's goo'. Tell that Sir John Lurbock
t'morrow. No, I won't. Tell 'im—t'night. Wonder whether—
there's billiard table in th'ouse. Th'ris! that's-all-righ'. Play Sir
John Turpin—that's t'shay—Sir John Lubbock, best out three—
bottle stiff-brandy-water. Why not throw in 'dulgence cup ? Will.
British 'Schoschation great'st humbug in world. Write Times—
suggest Brandy-water'Soschashun. That's th'idea. Here's Dick
Lub'cks joir good health. Thatsh goo'. All-ri'-goo'-nigh'!

******

Saturday.—Up to town again, after a very interesting week, and
finished my article, "Our Ancient Landmarks and their Influences
on Modern Culture," in time for press.

vol. lxxxi.