Punch (85.1883)

IV

PUNCH, OP THE LONDON CHARIVARI.

f Deoem-ber 39 (.883.

“ Libbaty’s a kind o’ thing That don't agree with—interviewers,” interjected his host, pleasantly. “ My good friend
Lowell—his health !—will pardon the adaptation, I’m sure.”

“ But,” continued the pertinacious Yankee, “ if you travelled with me, you could have your own special ‘ Inter-
viewer ’ and Opinion Collector. Vox stellarum—the Voice of the ‘ Siars,’ as Old Moore hath it—can now be transmitted
to the Public through the ‘ Star’s ’ private phonograph, as it were. And just fancy what a dazzling sensation you would
be ! Norman Lockyer’s wonderful sunrises wouldn’t be in it with your auroral avatar ! ”

“ You will not get that particular ‘ rise ’ out of me,” responded Mr. Punch, with decision. “ There ’s a flavour of
Babntjm about the whole business uncongenial to the soul of Punch.”

“ Himself the great original Showman ! ” subjoined Brother Jonathan, slily.

“ And, therefore, not requiring to be ‘run’ by any other ‘Boss,’” added Mr. Punch, quietly. “Toby, another
tumbler! ”

“ Sounds as if he were in the acrobatic line.”—(Toby gave a sly pug-chuckle all to himself.)—“ Would lie come? "
inquired the American, gazing admiringly upon the Dog of Dogs.

“ Toby,” said Mr. Punch, “ is as Cosmopolitan as his Master, and as indisposed to be exploits. Toby loves your
country, as I do. Witty Lowell, and delightful Abbey, and beautiful Mary Anderson share Mr. Punch’s warmest
regards with classic Arnold, and honeyed Coleridge, and weird Irving, and witching Ellen Terry. But I cannot follow
them to the platform or the Stage.”

“ I guess, Siree, you ’re just tarnation particular, the platform has already had a pretty fair show. It has been
brushed by the wing of Pegasus. It has been graced by the sock of Melpomene and the buskin of Thalia. Even the
wig of Themis has disported thereon. I cou-clude that in time it will have trotted out all the Graces, and most of the
Muses, with a good square contingent from the Olympian Upper Circles, But the baton and bells of the modern Mohus
are, it appears, to be-”

“ Conspicuous by their absence. Precisely so,” completed Mr. Punch, politely.

“ Wal,” said the American, rising reluctantly, “ what must be, must be. But our people will be disappointed, you
bet. You ’ll send ’em your love, and—well, no—not a lock of your hair, I suppose,” added Jonathan, airily.

“ I will do more, Sir,” said the affable Sage, beaming effulgently upon his wistful guest. “ I will send them my best
representative, my spirit’s quintessence, my voice of voices, my alter ego. Take it! it will brighten your voyage home ! It
will not disappoint you as the Atlantic did Oscar ! You will find it pleasanter than pop-corns, and more exhilarating than
Hop Bitters. It is more portable than Jumbo, and brighter than a Fashionable Beauty. It will give you more sound
judgments than Coleridge, and more sweetness and light than the Gospel according to Matthew Arnold. It will make your
peace with the insatiable ‘ Platform,’ and save you from the Interviewing Erinnyes. Finally, it will bless you and all men,
without Barnumising them. Take it, and be happy!! ”

And Mr. Punch presented to the delighted American his

iulimt e!