DOI Heft:
December 29, 1883
DOI Seite / Zitierlink:https://doi.org/10.11588/diglit.17755#0316
304 PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.
me with, quiet hope. But my chief piece de resistance was a dish of
tinned rabbit.
As a plate of this deadly entree was placed before each of my five
Uncles, and they began to pronounce it “ excellent,” my heart posi-
tively beat with excitement. For a moment I was almost scien-
tifically interested, like one assisting at some pleasing and novel
experiment.
For I recalled the celebrated luncheon of the. poisoned tarts given
by Benevenuto Marafei, Fourth Duke of Milan, to Hildebrand
the Ninth and the Doge of Venice, and remembered how, when the
latter had taken seventeen in succession, he turned, much to the
astonishment and amusement of the Venerable Pontiff, a pale orange
colour. So I watched my Uncles narrowly.
I had not long to wait. The cheap tinned poison of the American
firm soon showed itself more searching and potent than the price-
less preparations of Tofana.
Yes; there was no mistaking it! One by one my five Uncles turned
slowly to a deep rich emerald green !
My first impulse was to jump on my chair and cheer; but they
had risen to their feet, and were asking for a little water, and by a
great effort I restrained myself. There was a huge tankard on the
sideboard, drawn fresh that very afternoon. It contained fifty-seven
per cent, of organic matter, and was supplied through a freely-furred
leaden pipe from a cistern I had carefully concealed from the Sani-
tary Inspector. I could answer for the quality of that water.
With a cheery “ You ’ll be all right, presently ! ” I forced a good
quart of it laughingly on each of them. As I suspected, it did not
refresh them ; but its effect was marvellous.
At first they seemed stunned. Then the other four reeled blindly
in the direction of my Uncle the Doctor. He had only taken twice
of the rabbit, and appeared to understand them. He broke silence.
“I am afraid, my boy,” he said, sobbing hysterically, “ that you
have treated us too—too handsomely.”
The others nodded assent, and leaned against each other for
support.
“ We are not feeling very well,” he continued, “ and I think, on
the whole, we would rather go to bed.”
“ The heat of the room?” I asked, in a playful offhand manner,
as I rang for their five candles.
] “ The heat of the room ! that is all! ” was the muffled and wheez-
ing reply.
I cut an involuntary caper, for I knew the End was near at last.
In another minute they were creeping slowly and laboriously up
the stairs, to their respective rooms, on all-fours !
Chapter IV.
It was eleven minutes to eleven. So far things had gone well
beyond my wildest hopes. How did matters stand ?
I had said .to myself, “before the beginning of the new year ! ”
True, there were but seventy-one minutes left, yet I felt perfectly
sanguine as to the result. The last state of debility had been reached
with an ease that even at this grim hour pleased and interested me.
But the time had come for the house to do its work ! As I thought
of this, again my spirits rose, and I made my arrangements for the
night.
As a simple precaution against the stifling miasma of the premises,
I had provided myself with a complete diver’s costume. In this I
now arrayed myself. Fitting on tightly the glass-eyed helmet, that
had a moveable india-rubber pipe communicating with the outer air,
for purposes of ventilation, attached to it, 1 sat down in an easy
chair before the flickering fire, and waited the issue of events.
How well I can recall that little interval of expectant repose !
I remember smiling to myself inside my diver’s helmet. I was
thinking of my five aged relatives upstairs, for, with a spontaneous
Christmast-ide irony, I had arranged the nomenclature of their
five rooms according to the insanitary peculiarities they respectively
possessed.
The titles flitted fancifully through my brain. “ The Deadly
Damp Room,” “ The Open Sink Room,” “ The Poisoned Dado Room,”
“ The Gas Escape Room,” “ The Frozen Chill Room.” What a merry
sound they all had in this, the last night of the good old year !
So I smiled, for I was wondering which of the five would be the
first to do its work.
Yet, beyond the occasional upsetting of a wardrobe and a distant
oath or two now and then, there was no sound from upstairs. Some-
j times I thought I heard violent footsteps, as if someone were dancing.
! But they died away. Why was there no movement ? Half-past
eleven struck. I grew anxious.
I could not well leave the room, on account of the limited length
of my protecting india-rubber pipe. To have taken off my helmet
I now would have been to have risked much. I hesitated. Yet the
! bells were already beginning to ring in the New Year. I rose
from my chair, when, to my great relief, I noticed that a figure was
standing in the doorway.
; It had on a Military headgear, some Naval trappings, a dressing-
! gown, and bore, under its right arm, five duly executed wills. I saw,
[December 29, 1883.
at a glance, it was my Legal Uncle, in a state of temporary inter-
mittent delirium.
“.Ha! my boy! ” he said, stumbling towards the table, and mani-
festing no sign of astonishment at my unusual costume. “We have
had a rough time of it upstairs—a very rough time—but had—thank
goodness—time to sign these. We have not forgotten you ! ”
“ Thanks! ” I said, with some feeling, as I took the promising testa-
mentary parcel from his shaking hand. “ Are they really bad ? ”
The bells were ringing merrily on the midnight air. The sound
seemed to soothe him.
“ It’s all over ! ” he said, feebly shaking his head. “ And I have
only about two minutes left myself. I ’ll tell you what it is, my ;
boy ”—his voice sank to a whisper now. “I’m afraid you’ve got
into rather an unhealthy house ! ”,
* ***** *
After the five funerals, the five wills were dulj$opened, with all
formality, in my presence, by my new Solicitor.
“Dear me!” he said, rubbing his eyeglasses. “Your Uncles
appear to have left all their property to an Advertising Company,
who are to expend the whole of it in the Sanitary Improvement of
Deadman’s Terrace.”
I had been listening attentively. I slipped off my chair.
“And the annuity of £6 13s. ?” I asked, anxiously, as he kindly ;
helped me up from the floor.
“ Has been thrown into Chancery by a maternal Second Cousin,
he replied, gently. Then he led me to a cab.
******
Years have sped now, and I often pass through the old neighbour- j
hood. Bright children issue from the doors, buxom housewives
smile on the balconies, and vigorous and hearty fathers of large
families return every evening from the City. Yet there is nothing
to indicate a change—beyond a forest of ventilating shafts that now
tower and twist along the whole line of the familiar stucco facade.
“ The healthiest block of houses in all London,” say all the Agents.
“ Strange, too ! ” they add, rubbing their heads, and recalling faintly
certain insanitary rumours of vanished years.
lres ; “strange,” indeed—but not to him who, like me, recalls,
as he gazes up at No. 13, the weird explanatory light it could throw
on The Secret of Headman s Terrace.
Punch on Potations.
The Hot-Water Cure is our latest of fads,
To cut out all tipples from Champagne to Whiskey.
Well stick, if you like, to the kettle, my lads,
Whose wits are too bright, and whose souls are too frisky.
But Punch has his own common-sense recipe,
A road to right happiness simpler and shorter ;
He’d counsel you, cutting prigs’ fiddlededee,
To keep in good spirits and out of hot water !
“Is Hanging Painful?”—Under this title some letters have j
appeared in the Pall Mall Gazette. It is a difficult question to
answer, as of course, it depends on what is hung. Some sky-highed j
Artists say hanging is very painful to them at the Royal Academy.
We have just received our copy of our Annual Invaluable guide, j
Philosopher and Friend, yclept Kelly's Post-Office Directory. It is ;
a charming pocket companion, and delightful handy book.
me with, quiet hope. But my chief piece de resistance was a dish of
tinned rabbit.
As a plate of this deadly entree was placed before each of my five
Uncles, and they began to pronounce it “ excellent,” my heart posi-
tively beat with excitement. For a moment I was almost scien-
tifically interested, like one assisting at some pleasing and novel
experiment.
For I recalled the celebrated luncheon of the. poisoned tarts given
by Benevenuto Marafei, Fourth Duke of Milan, to Hildebrand
the Ninth and the Doge of Venice, and remembered how, when the
latter had taken seventeen in succession, he turned, much to the
astonishment and amusement of the Venerable Pontiff, a pale orange
colour. So I watched my Uncles narrowly.
I had not long to wait. The cheap tinned poison of the American
firm soon showed itself more searching and potent than the price-
less preparations of Tofana.
Yes; there was no mistaking it! One by one my five Uncles turned
slowly to a deep rich emerald green !
My first impulse was to jump on my chair and cheer; but they
had risen to their feet, and were asking for a little water, and by a
great effort I restrained myself. There was a huge tankard on the
sideboard, drawn fresh that very afternoon. It contained fifty-seven
per cent, of organic matter, and was supplied through a freely-furred
leaden pipe from a cistern I had carefully concealed from the Sani-
tary Inspector. I could answer for the quality of that water.
With a cheery “ You ’ll be all right, presently ! ” I forced a good
quart of it laughingly on each of them. As I suspected, it did not
refresh them ; but its effect was marvellous.
At first they seemed stunned. Then the other four reeled blindly
in the direction of my Uncle the Doctor. He had only taken twice
of the rabbit, and appeared to understand them. He broke silence.
“I am afraid, my boy,” he said, sobbing hysterically, “ that you
have treated us too—too handsomely.”
The others nodded assent, and leaned against each other for
support.
“ We are not feeling very well,” he continued, “ and I think, on
the whole, we would rather go to bed.”
“ The heat of the room?” I asked, in a playful offhand manner,
as I rang for their five candles.
] “ The heat of the room ! that is all! ” was the muffled and wheez-
ing reply.
I cut an involuntary caper, for I knew the End was near at last.
In another minute they were creeping slowly and laboriously up
the stairs, to their respective rooms, on all-fours !
Chapter IV.
It was eleven minutes to eleven. So far things had gone well
beyond my wildest hopes. How did matters stand ?
I had said .to myself, “before the beginning of the new year ! ”
True, there were but seventy-one minutes left, yet I felt perfectly
sanguine as to the result. The last state of debility had been reached
with an ease that even at this grim hour pleased and interested me.
But the time had come for the house to do its work ! As I thought
of this, again my spirits rose, and I made my arrangements for the
night.
As a simple precaution against the stifling miasma of the premises,
I had provided myself with a complete diver’s costume. In this I
now arrayed myself. Fitting on tightly the glass-eyed helmet, that
had a moveable india-rubber pipe communicating with the outer air,
for purposes of ventilation, attached to it, 1 sat down in an easy
chair before the flickering fire, and waited the issue of events.
How well I can recall that little interval of expectant repose !
I remember smiling to myself inside my diver’s helmet. I was
thinking of my five aged relatives upstairs, for, with a spontaneous
Christmast-ide irony, I had arranged the nomenclature of their
five rooms according to the insanitary peculiarities they respectively
possessed.
The titles flitted fancifully through my brain. “ The Deadly
Damp Room,” “ The Open Sink Room,” “ The Poisoned Dado Room,”
“ The Gas Escape Room,” “ The Frozen Chill Room.” What a merry
sound they all had in this, the last night of the good old year !
So I smiled, for I was wondering which of the five would be the
first to do its work.
Yet, beyond the occasional upsetting of a wardrobe and a distant
oath or two now and then, there was no sound from upstairs. Some-
j times I thought I heard violent footsteps, as if someone were dancing.
! But they died away. Why was there no movement ? Half-past
eleven struck. I grew anxious.
I could not well leave the room, on account of the limited length
of my protecting india-rubber pipe. To have taken off my helmet
I now would have been to have risked much. I hesitated. Yet the
! bells were already beginning to ring in the New Year. I rose
from my chair, when, to my great relief, I noticed that a figure was
standing in the doorway.
; It had on a Military headgear, some Naval trappings, a dressing-
! gown, and bore, under its right arm, five duly executed wills. I saw,
[December 29, 1883.
at a glance, it was my Legal Uncle, in a state of temporary inter-
mittent delirium.
“.Ha! my boy! ” he said, stumbling towards the table, and mani-
festing no sign of astonishment at my unusual costume. “We have
had a rough time of it upstairs—a very rough time—but had—thank
goodness—time to sign these. We have not forgotten you ! ”
“ Thanks! ” I said, with some feeling, as I took the promising testa-
mentary parcel from his shaking hand. “ Are they really bad ? ”
The bells were ringing merrily on the midnight air. The sound
seemed to soothe him.
“ It’s all over ! ” he said, feebly shaking his head. “ And I have
only about two minutes left myself. I ’ll tell you what it is, my ;
boy ”—his voice sank to a whisper now. “I’m afraid you’ve got
into rather an unhealthy house ! ”,
* ***** *
After the five funerals, the five wills were dulj$opened, with all
formality, in my presence, by my new Solicitor.
“Dear me!” he said, rubbing his eyeglasses. “Your Uncles
appear to have left all their property to an Advertising Company,
who are to expend the whole of it in the Sanitary Improvement of
Deadman’s Terrace.”
I had been listening attentively. I slipped off my chair.
“And the annuity of £6 13s. ?” I asked, anxiously, as he kindly ;
helped me up from the floor.
“ Has been thrown into Chancery by a maternal Second Cousin,
he replied, gently. Then he led me to a cab.
******
Years have sped now, and I often pass through the old neighbour- j
hood. Bright children issue from the doors, buxom housewives
smile on the balconies, and vigorous and hearty fathers of large
families return every evening from the City. Yet there is nothing
to indicate a change—beyond a forest of ventilating shafts that now
tower and twist along the whole line of the familiar stucco facade.
“ The healthiest block of houses in all London,” say all the Agents.
“ Strange, too ! ” they add, rubbing their heads, and recalling faintly
certain insanitary rumours of vanished years.
lres ; “strange,” indeed—but not to him who, like me, recalls,
as he gazes up at No. 13, the weird explanatory light it could throw
on The Secret of Headman s Terrace.
Punch on Potations.
The Hot-Water Cure is our latest of fads,
To cut out all tipples from Champagne to Whiskey.
Well stick, if you like, to the kettle, my lads,
Whose wits are too bright, and whose souls are too frisky.
But Punch has his own common-sense recipe,
A road to right happiness simpler and shorter ;
He’d counsel you, cutting prigs’ fiddlededee,
To keep in good spirits and out of hot water !
“Is Hanging Painful?”—Under this title some letters have j
appeared in the Pall Mall Gazette. It is a difficult question to
answer, as of course, it depends on what is hung. Some sky-highed j
Artists say hanging is very painful to them at the Royal Academy.
We have just received our copy of our Annual Invaluable guide, j
Philosopher and Friend, yclept Kelly's Post-Office Directory. It is ;
a charming pocket companion, and delightful handy book.