DOI Heft:
September 2, 1882
DOI Seite / Zitierlink:https://doi.org/10.11588/diglit.17753#0116
108
[September 2, 1882.
PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.
BY THE SEA-SIDE.
[A Gasp and a Growl from Paterfamilias Fogey.)
In for it here,
Six weeks or more,
Once every year,
(Yah, what a bore !)
Daughters and Wife
Force me to bide ;
Mad to “see life”
By the Sea-Side!
Go out of Town
What if we do ?
Hither comes down
All the world too;
Yanity Fair,
Fashion and Pride,
Seeking fresh air
By the Sea-Side.
Drest up all hands—
Raiment how dear !—
Down on the sands,
Out on the Pier,
Pace to and fro,
See, as at Ryde,
Off how they show
By the Sea-Side!
Fops and fine girls,
Swarm, brisk as bees
Ribbons and curls
Float on the breeze :
Females and Males
Eye and are eyed ;
Ogling prevails.
By the Sea-Side!
Daughters may see
Some fun in that.
Wife, how can she,
Grown old and fat P
Scene I survey
But to deride,
Idle display
By the Sea-Side.
Yiews within reach,
Picturesque scenes,
Rocks on the beach,
Bathing machines,
Shingle and pools,
^Left by the tide,
Youth, far from schools,
By the Sea-Side.
Artists may sketch,
Draw and design,
Pencil, or etch;
Hot in my line
Money, no end,
Whilst I am tied
Here, I must spend,
By the Sea-Side !
FUN IN THE FIELD,
OR, THE GENERAL’S LITTLE JOKE,
(From our Special Correspondent.)
Monday.—Alexandria. Been dodging about for days trying to
find where on earth Sir Garnet’s got to. Longing to he at the
imminent deadly breach—but can’t, for life
of me, find where the imminent deadly breach
is. Anyhow, Sir Garnet not here, that’s
certain. Wonder why Sir G. W. considers
Special Correspondents ‘ ‘ those modern curses
of armies.” But he must be found at all
hazards. So off, to-morrow, to the Soudan.
“ Oh, ’tis Soudan! ” as Shakspeare remarks
somewhere.
Tuesday.—Here I am in the Soudan.
Curious, no troops anywhere about. But
have just heard from Sir Garnet’s own Aide-
de-camp that Sir G. and the 245th High-
landers are to be at Suez to-morrow, without
fail. So I at once order out my special camel, and start for Suez.
Wednesday.—Suez. Provoking ! Sir Garnet not here, and tele-
gram awaiting me from Aide-de-camp, saying “he’s very sorry,
but Sir G. changed his mind at last moment, and is now to be found
at Ismailia, not Suez.”
Thursday.—Ismailia. Hurrah ! Have found Sir Garnet at last.
All the.troops as well. Ironclads, artillery, hundreds of transports
—this is really war ! I am transported. General order issued—
troops to be ready to start to-morrow for Mecca, as Arabi has
escaped to Arabian Desert, and gone there. Order my camel again,
also my Bedouins, and by midnight am well on way towards Mecca.
Escort want to know “if I’m really going to Mecca.” I say,
“ Yes, of course.” They reply that it ’ll take “ three months to get
there ; ” consequently, they all desert me to a man. How provoking!
Nothing for it but to return to Ismailia.
Friday.—Back in Ismailia. Find Sir Garnet still here: also
troops. Nobody gone to Mecca! Why? I at once interview
Brigadier-General on the deceptive nature of the news and general
orders furnished to Special Correspondents. Brigadier-General very
polite. Says unexpected intelligence just been received, that Arabi
has left Mecca and. gone to Tripoli. Says he wouldn’t tell this to
everybody. Kind of Brigadier-General, as, usually, these military
men are a little stiff to' Correspondents. Says, if he were me, he’d.
start for Tripoli at once; Sir Garnet’s sure to follow immediately.
I embark at once for Tripoli, without a moment's hesitation. Camel
no good now. Sell him to a lunatic Sheik, and hire coasting-vessel
to take me to Tripoli. Captain says, “as a friend of Brigadier-
General, he ’ll do it for £50.” I consider this cheap.
A Fortnight Later.—Tripoli. Here I am ! Captain of coasting-
vessel turned out a regular brute—quite a “ fellah ”—took me right
out into Mediterranean, and stopped there fishing! Have been
dreadfully sick. Here I am at last, however. But where’s Sir
Garnet f Where are the troops ? I make inquiries as to latest news.
“ Oh, haven’t I heard P Capture of Cairo by Sir Garnet, and end of
Egyptian War.” And here I am at Tripoli!
HOLIDAY HAUNTS.
By Jingle Junior on the Jaunt.
SCARBOROUGH.
Long way from London—no matter—fast train—soon here—once
here don’t wish to leave—palatial hotels—every luxury—good tables
d'hote—pleasant balls—lively society ! Exhilarating air—good as
champagne without “morning after”—up
early—go to bed late—authorities provide
something better than a broken-down pier,
a circulating library, and a rickety bathing-
machine — authorities disburse large sums
for benefit of visitors—visitors spend lots of
money in town—mutual satisfaction—place
crowded—capital bands—excellent theatri-
cals—varied entertainments—right way to
do it! The Spa—first discovered 1620 —
people been discovering it ever since—some
drink it—more walk on it—lounge on it—
smoke on it—flirt on it—wonderful costumes
in the morning—more wonderful in the
afternoon—most wonderful in the evening! North Sancs—^outh
Sands—fine old Castle well placed—picturesque old town—well-
built modern terraces, squares and streets—pony-chaises—riding-
horses—Lift for lazy ones ! Capital excursions—Oliver’s Mount
— Carnelian Bay — Scalby Mill — Hackness — Wykeham — Filey!
Delightful gardens—secluded seats—hidden nooks—shady bowers—
well-screened corners—Northern Belles—bright eyes—soft nothings
—eloquent sighs—squozen hands—before you know where you are—
ask papa—all up—dangerous very ! Overcome by feelings—can’t
write any more—friend asks me to drink waters—query North
Chalybeate or South Salt Well—wonder which—if in doubt try soda
qualified with brandy—good people scarce—better run no risk !
SOME NEW BOOKS AND NEW EDITIONS.
“ New Arabian Nights. By R. Louis Stevenson.” New Ara-
bian Nights, and new Arabian lights. New lamps for old ones.
Electric lights, perhaps, of a sort—but will they supersede the old
gas?
“ Bimbi. By Ouida.” Bimbi, how pronounced? Bimby ? Or
Bimebye, as the swains in the south-west say, meaning bv-and-by ?
If so, Bimbi might be otherwise entitled Hereafter : a Tale of Other
Times. Perhaps it is a prophecy. At any rate, let us hope that
Bimbi will prove a success, and do credit to Ouida both by-and-by
and now.
“ Flip, Src. By Bret Harte.” Flip was a spirituous compound,
much celebrated once in bacchanalian sea-songs, along with rum, as
a beverage ordinarily on draught amongst able-bodied seamen. By
“ fyc." are probably meant other intoxicating liquors whose con-
sumption is customary on board of men-of-v/ar. Be that as it may,
has the work above-named been rightly imputed to Bret Harte ?
Is it not the composition of another more likely joker ? Should it
not, with due regard to reality, have been announced as “ Flip, tyc.
By Sir Wilfrid Laavson ” ? What other humorist would be so
likely to have a flap at Flip and a fling at 8,-c. ?
Lines picked up on a Fashionable Tennis Lawn.
Far. far from the Town and its turmoil and riot,
Would 1 list to the song-birds and hear the leaves rustle—
But how can I hope for a moment of quiet
Nhen the girls on the Lawn are all racquet and bustle t
Proverbial Paradox. — Poeta nascitur non fit. How so, if
Shakspeare is a Survival of the Fittest ?
[September 2, 1882.
PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.
BY THE SEA-SIDE.
[A Gasp and a Growl from Paterfamilias Fogey.)
In for it here,
Six weeks or more,
Once every year,
(Yah, what a bore !)
Daughters and Wife
Force me to bide ;
Mad to “see life”
By the Sea-Side!
Go out of Town
What if we do ?
Hither comes down
All the world too;
Yanity Fair,
Fashion and Pride,
Seeking fresh air
By the Sea-Side.
Drest up all hands—
Raiment how dear !—
Down on the sands,
Out on the Pier,
Pace to and fro,
See, as at Ryde,
Off how they show
By the Sea-Side!
Fops and fine girls,
Swarm, brisk as bees
Ribbons and curls
Float on the breeze :
Females and Males
Eye and are eyed ;
Ogling prevails.
By the Sea-Side!
Daughters may see
Some fun in that.
Wife, how can she,
Grown old and fat P
Scene I survey
But to deride,
Idle display
By the Sea-Side.
Yiews within reach,
Picturesque scenes,
Rocks on the beach,
Bathing machines,
Shingle and pools,
^Left by the tide,
Youth, far from schools,
By the Sea-Side.
Artists may sketch,
Draw and design,
Pencil, or etch;
Hot in my line
Money, no end,
Whilst I am tied
Here, I must spend,
By the Sea-Side !
FUN IN THE FIELD,
OR, THE GENERAL’S LITTLE JOKE,
(From our Special Correspondent.)
Monday.—Alexandria. Been dodging about for days trying to
find where on earth Sir Garnet’s got to. Longing to he at the
imminent deadly breach—but can’t, for life
of me, find where the imminent deadly breach
is. Anyhow, Sir Garnet not here, that’s
certain. Wonder why Sir G. W. considers
Special Correspondents ‘ ‘ those modern curses
of armies.” But he must be found at all
hazards. So off, to-morrow, to the Soudan.
“ Oh, ’tis Soudan! ” as Shakspeare remarks
somewhere.
Tuesday.—Here I am in the Soudan.
Curious, no troops anywhere about. But
have just heard from Sir Garnet’s own Aide-
de-camp that Sir G. and the 245th High-
landers are to be at Suez to-morrow, without
fail. So I at once order out my special camel, and start for Suez.
Wednesday.—Suez. Provoking ! Sir Garnet not here, and tele-
gram awaiting me from Aide-de-camp, saying “he’s very sorry,
but Sir G. changed his mind at last moment, and is now to be found
at Ismailia, not Suez.”
Thursday.—Ismailia. Hurrah ! Have found Sir Garnet at last.
All the.troops as well. Ironclads, artillery, hundreds of transports
—this is really war ! I am transported. General order issued—
troops to be ready to start to-morrow for Mecca, as Arabi has
escaped to Arabian Desert, and gone there. Order my camel again,
also my Bedouins, and by midnight am well on way towards Mecca.
Escort want to know “if I’m really going to Mecca.” I say,
“ Yes, of course.” They reply that it ’ll take “ three months to get
there ; ” consequently, they all desert me to a man. How provoking!
Nothing for it but to return to Ismailia.
Friday.—Back in Ismailia. Find Sir Garnet still here: also
troops. Nobody gone to Mecca! Why? I at once interview
Brigadier-General on the deceptive nature of the news and general
orders furnished to Special Correspondents. Brigadier-General very
polite. Says unexpected intelligence just been received, that Arabi
has left Mecca and. gone to Tripoli. Says he wouldn’t tell this to
everybody. Kind of Brigadier-General, as, usually, these military
men are a little stiff to' Correspondents. Says, if he were me, he’d.
start for Tripoli at once; Sir Garnet’s sure to follow immediately.
I embark at once for Tripoli, without a moment's hesitation. Camel
no good now. Sell him to a lunatic Sheik, and hire coasting-vessel
to take me to Tripoli. Captain says, “as a friend of Brigadier-
General, he ’ll do it for £50.” I consider this cheap.
A Fortnight Later.—Tripoli. Here I am ! Captain of coasting-
vessel turned out a regular brute—quite a “ fellah ”—took me right
out into Mediterranean, and stopped there fishing! Have been
dreadfully sick. Here I am at last, however. But where’s Sir
Garnet f Where are the troops ? I make inquiries as to latest news.
“ Oh, haven’t I heard P Capture of Cairo by Sir Garnet, and end of
Egyptian War.” And here I am at Tripoli!
HOLIDAY HAUNTS.
By Jingle Junior on the Jaunt.
SCARBOROUGH.
Long way from London—no matter—fast train—soon here—once
here don’t wish to leave—palatial hotels—every luxury—good tables
d'hote—pleasant balls—lively society ! Exhilarating air—good as
champagne without “morning after”—up
early—go to bed late—authorities provide
something better than a broken-down pier,
a circulating library, and a rickety bathing-
machine — authorities disburse large sums
for benefit of visitors—visitors spend lots of
money in town—mutual satisfaction—place
crowded—capital bands—excellent theatri-
cals—varied entertainments—right way to
do it! The Spa—first discovered 1620 —
people been discovering it ever since—some
drink it—more walk on it—lounge on it—
smoke on it—flirt on it—wonderful costumes
in the morning—more wonderful in the
afternoon—most wonderful in the evening! North Sancs—^outh
Sands—fine old Castle well placed—picturesque old town—well-
built modern terraces, squares and streets—pony-chaises—riding-
horses—Lift for lazy ones ! Capital excursions—Oliver’s Mount
— Carnelian Bay — Scalby Mill — Hackness — Wykeham — Filey!
Delightful gardens—secluded seats—hidden nooks—shady bowers—
well-screened corners—Northern Belles—bright eyes—soft nothings
—eloquent sighs—squozen hands—before you know where you are—
ask papa—all up—dangerous very ! Overcome by feelings—can’t
write any more—friend asks me to drink waters—query North
Chalybeate or South Salt Well—wonder which—if in doubt try soda
qualified with brandy—good people scarce—better run no risk !
SOME NEW BOOKS AND NEW EDITIONS.
“ New Arabian Nights. By R. Louis Stevenson.” New Ara-
bian Nights, and new Arabian lights. New lamps for old ones.
Electric lights, perhaps, of a sort—but will they supersede the old
gas?
“ Bimbi. By Ouida.” Bimbi, how pronounced? Bimby ? Or
Bimebye, as the swains in the south-west say, meaning bv-and-by ?
If so, Bimbi might be otherwise entitled Hereafter : a Tale of Other
Times. Perhaps it is a prophecy. At any rate, let us hope that
Bimbi will prove a success, and do credit to Ouida both by-and-by
and now.
“ Flip, Src. By Bret Harte.” Flip was a spirituous compound,
much celebrated once in bacchanalian sea-songs, along with rum, as
a beverage ordinarily on draught amongst able-bodied seamen. By
“ fyc." are probably meant other intoxicating liquors whose con-
sumption is customary on board of men-of-v/ar. Be that as it may,
has the work above-named been rightly imputed to Bret Harte ?
Is it not the composition of another more likely joker ? Should it
not, with due regard to reality, have been announced as “ Flip, tyc.
By Sir Wilfrid Laavson ” ? What other humorist would be so
likely to have a flap at Flip and a fling at 8,-c. ?
Lines picked up on a Fashionable Tennis Lawn.
Far. far from the Town and its turmoil and riot,
Would 1 list to the song-birds and hear the leaves rustle—
But how can I hope for a moment of quiet
Nhen the girls on the Lawn are all racquet and bustle t
Proverbial Paradox. — Poeta nascitur non fit. How so, if
Shakspeare is a Survival of the Fittest ?