DOI Heft:
September 30, 1882
DOI Seite / Zitierlink:https://doi.org/10.11588/diglit.17753#0153
September 30, 1882.]
PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.
145
THE LATEST THING SN ADVERTISING.
A Positive Head for a
Comparative Header.
MRS. R. ON BOULOGNE-SUR-MER.
Mrs. Ramsbothah, who has been staying at Boulogne for a short
time, writes as follows :—
“ Bullown-some-Air is, I am informed, not what it used to be,
though the smells must be pretty much as always, which is not the
scent of rheumatic spices. It’s called
Bullown-some-Air because if the sea-breeze
wasn’t too powerful for the smells, living
would be impossible. Many of the visitors
to the hotels on the Key told me the bed-
rooms were full of musketeers, who came in
when the candle went out, and bit them all
over. Such a sight as one poor gentleman
was! He reminded me of the Spotted
Nobleman at the Agrarian in Westminster.
Then, on the Sunday I was there, a day as
I had always been given to understand the
French were ‘ tray gay,’ there was actually
no music, no band, no concert, and in fact
no amusement whatever at the Establish-
mong day Bangs (so called because there’s a
shooting-gallery next it, where they bang
away all day at so much a head), which might as well have been
closed, as there was no race-game (of which I had heard so much),
no Tom Bowling * * (they wouldn’t get up a Tom Bowling unless there
were nine persons present, which Mr. Hackson says is much the
same as when magistrates meet and there isn’t a sufficient number to
make a jorum), and only one gentleman trying to produce another to
play billiards with him.
“There was a Theatre open. Not being a Samaritan myself,
though as strict as anyone as to my own regular religious diversions at
church, I let Mr. Hackson take myself and Lavlnia to see The Clogs
of Cornwall, which, I think, was the name of the Opera, though, as I
hadn’t a bill, and didn’t understand one quarter of what they were
saying—not but what I was annoyed by Lavvv and Mr. Hackson
always turning round to explain the jokes to me—I confess I did not
see what either Cornwall or Clogs had to do with the story. The
singing and the acting was worse than anything I’d ever met with at
an English seaside Theatre, because a place like Bullown ought to
have a Theatre as good as the one at Brighton. The customs worn
by the Actors were ugly, and when the Lover, who was intended for
a sailor—though his dress wasn’t at all de rigger— said, confiden-
tially, to the audience, alluding to an unfortunately plain young
person who played the part of the Herring, “ She is lovely ! ” there
was a loud laugh, or, as Mr. Hackson, who speaks French perfectly,
called it, a levy de reedo, all over the house, and this emulating from
people who, I always thought, were remarkable for their politeness,
was about the rudest thing I ever heard done to a public character in
a Playhouse.
“ The place was hot, and the seats uncomfortable ; so that after
two Acts, which was more like being in a penitentiary than a
* We fancy Mrs. E. means “ Tombola."
place of recrimination, we left, and went to our hotel, where, there
being nothing more to do than there was anywhere else, Lavinia and
myself retired to rest—that is, such rest as the musketeers would
allow us. She slept in a back cupboard, called a cabinet de Twilight,
because it was so dark and scarcely any veneration, there being no
fireplace, and only such a window, as it was healthier to keep shut than
open : but she had the advantage over me in not being troubled by
any musketeers. There was only one of them in my. room, and when
I heard him singing away like a couple of gnats, I hid under the bed-
clothes, and he couldn’t find me till I came up again for air, like a
fish, and then he bit me on the forehead.
“Next morning we went to breakfast * d la four sheets ’ they call
it, on account of the size of the table-napkins, at the Rest-wrongs
on the pier. The time they kept us ! as there was only one gossoon
to about twenty persons. "The best thing we had there was our own
appetite, which we brought with us.
“ After this there was nothing doing in the place till dinner-time
(called table doat because they ’re so fond of it), and after that there
was a dull concert at the Estdblishmong, and as Mr. Hackson told
us, who went there, a dull dance and poor fireworks at the Artillery
Gardens in the Oat Veal. The ‘ Oat Veal’ is French for the high
part of the town, but, judging from the smells on and about the
Key, I should say that our hotel was situated in quite the highest
part of the town.
“ Less than a week at Bullown was quite enough and too much for
us. If Sunday here were only lively, it would be a nice change
from London, or Dover, or Folkestone, or Ramsgate, as I do not
know a pleasanter and easier way to go than starting by the London,
Chatting and Dover train at 10 A.M. from Victoria or Holborn Via-
duct, arriving at Dover at twelve. Then by one of the comfortablest
boats I was ever in, called the Inflicter or Invigorator, I couldn’t
catch which, but Mr. Hackson told me it was Latin for ‘ Uncon-
quered,’ which takes you, if it’s a fine day and wind and tide
favourable, in an hour and a quarter to Callous (or Kally in French),
and if you are only going on to Bullown, you have your luggage
examined (as if you were a smuggling Brigadier!), and you have
more than an hour for luncb before you start again. The luncheon
at the Kallyous Buff y is excellent, and the buffers, who speak English
with hardly any accident, are most attentive. Then, when you’ve
finished, you start for Bullown by the 2'45 train, and are at vour
hotel by 3'30 or thereabouts, which is what I call doing it uxuriously.
“ But Bullown, as Mr. Hackson said to me, requires some ongter-
prenner, which means ‘ an Undertaker,’ to look after it, as it has
become so deadly-lively. I think this must be a joke of Mr. Hack-
son’s, one of his caramboles, as they call them in French, as what
Bullown wants is waking up. As it is now, Bullown is a second-class
place, and will soon be a third-class one, which, as Mr. Hackson
says. ’Aery and an inferior dummy-mong will have all to themselves.
“Mr. Hackson is going to take us to a new place next week,
before the season is quite over, when I hope to give you some more
news of Yours truly, « ^ jq >>
An Architectural Publisher’s Company.—The Board of Works. 1
PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.
145
THE LATEST THING SN ADVERTISING.
A Positive Head for a
Comparative Header.
MRS. R. ON BOULOGNE-SUR-MER.
Mrs. Ramsbothah, who has been staying at Boulogne for a short
time, writes as follows :—
“ Bullown-some-Air is, I am informed, not what it used to be,
though the smells must be pretty much as always, which is not the
scent of rheumatic spices. It’s called
Bullown-some-Air because if the sea-breeze
wasn’t too powerful for the smells, living
would be impossible. Many of the visitors
to the hotels on the Key told me the bed-
rooms were full of musketeers, who came in
when the candle went out, and bit them all
over. Such a sight as one poor gentleman
was! He reminded me of the Spotted
Nobleman at the Agrarian in Westminster.
Then, on the Sunday I was there, a day as
I had always been given to understand the
French were ‘ tray gay,’ there was actually
no music, no band, no concert, and in fact
no amusement whatever at the Establish-
mong day Bangs (so called because there’s a
shooting-gallery next it, where they bang
away all day at so much a head), which might as well have been
closed, as there was no race-game (of which I had heard so much),
no Tom Bowling * * (they wouldn’t get up a Tom Bowling unless there
were nine persons present, which Mr. Hackson says is much the
same as when magistrates meet and there isn’t a sufficient number to
make a jorum), and only one gentleman trying to produce another to
play billiards with him.
“There was a Theatre open. Not being a Samaritan myself,
though as strict as anyone as to my own regular religious diversions at
church, I let Mr. Hackson take myself and Lavlnia to see The Clogs
of Cornwall, which, I think, was the name of the Opera, though, as I
hadn’t a bill, and didn’t understand one quarter of what they were
saying—not but what I was annoyed by Lavvv and Mr. Hackson
always turning round to explain the jokes to me—I confess I did not
see what either Cornwall or Clogs had to do with the story. The
singing and the acting was worse than anything I’d ever met with at
an English seaside Theatre, because a place like Bullown ought to
have a Theatre as good as the one at Brighton. The customs worn
by the Actors were ugly, and when the Lover, who was intended for
a sailor—though his dress wasn’t at all de rigger— said, confiden-
tially, to the audience, alluding to an unfortunately plain young
person who played the part of the Herring, “ She is lovely ! ” there
was a loud laugh, or, as Mr. Hackson, who speaks French perfectly,
called it, a levy de reedo, all over the house, and this emulating from
people who, I always thought, were remarkable for their politeness,
was about the rudest thing I ever heard done to a public character in
a Playhouse.
“ The place was hot, and the seats uncomfortable ; so that after
two Acts, which was more like being in a penitentiary than a
* We fancy Mrs. E. means “ Tombola."
place of recrimination, we left, and went to our hotel, where, there
being nothing more to do than there was anywhere else, Lavinia and
myself retired to rest—that is, such rest as the musketeers would
allow us. She slept in a back cupboard, called a cabinet de Twilight,
because it was so dark and scarcely any veneration, there being no
fireplace, and only such a window, as it was healthier to keep shut than
open : but she had the advantage over me in not being troubled by
any musketeers. There was only one of them in my. room, and when
I heard him singing away like a couple of gnats, I hid under the bed-
clothes, and he couldn’t find me till I came up again for air, like a
fish, and then he bit me on the forehead.
“Next morning we went to breakfast * d la four sheets ’ they call
it, on account of the size of the table-napkins, at the Rest-wrongs
on the pier. The time they kept us ! as there was only one gossoon
to about twenty persons. "The best thing we had there was our own
appetite, which we brought with us.
“ After this there was nothing doing in the place till dinner-time
(called table doat because they ’re so fond of it), and after that there
was a dull concert at the Estdblishmong, and as Mr. Hackson told
us, who went there, a dull dance and poor fireworks at the Artillery
Gardens in the Oat Veal. The ‘ Oat Veal’ is French for the high
part of the town, but, judging from the smells on and about the
Key, I should say that our hotel was situated in quite the highest
part of the town.
“ Less than a week at Bullown was quite enough and too much for
us. If Sunday here were only lively, it would be a nice change
from London, or Dover, or Folkestone, or Ramsgate, as I do not
know a pleasanter and easier way to go than starting by the London,
Chatting and Dover train at 10 A.M. from Victoria or Holborn Via-
duct, arriving at Dover at twelve. Then by one of the comfortablest
boats I was ever in, called the Inflicter or Invigorator, I couldn’t
catch which, but Mr. Hackson told me it was Latin for ‘ Uncon-
quered,’ which takes you, if it’s a fine day and wind and tide
favourable, in an hour and a quarter to Callous (or Kally in French),
and if you are only going on to Bullown, you have your luggage
examined (as if you were a smuggling Brigadier!), and you have
more than an hour for luncb before you start again. The luncheon
at the Kallyous Buff y is excellent, and the buffers, who speak English
with hardly any accident, are most attentive. Then, when you’ve
finished, you start for Bullown by the 2'45 train, and are at vour
hotel by 3'30 or thereabouts, which is what I call doing it uxuriously.
“ But Bullown, as Mr. Hackson said to me, requires some ongter-
prenner, which means ‘ an Undertaker,’ to look after it, as it has
become so deadly-lively. I think this must be a joke of Mr. Hack-
son’s, one of his caramboles, as they call them in French, as what
Bullown wants is waking up. As it is now, Bullown is a second-class
place, and will soon be a third-class one, which, as Mr. Hackson
says. ’Aery and an inferior dummy-mong will have all to themselves.
“Mr. Hackson is going to take us to a new place next week,
before the season is quite over, when I hope to give you some more
news of Yours truly, « ^ jq >>
An Architectural Publisher’s Company.—The Board of Works. 1