DOI issue:
August 6, 1887
DOI Page / Citation link:https://doi.org/10.11588/diglit.17658#0056
50
PUNCH, OR THE LONDON
CHARIVARI. [AuarsT 6, 1887.
ILLUSTRATIONS TO THE POETS.
" A Ctcle of Cathay."
Lochsley Hall.
SOME MORE OFFICIAL JILLS.
(Whom Mr. Punch, with his characteristic sense of justice and fair-play, is proud to
recognise as no less representative than his earlier types — although he could wish
he had the pleasure of encountering them a little more frequently.)
Scene—A large Branch Post Office. The weather is oppressively warm, and
the Public slightly irritable in consequence. Behind the counter are three
Young Ladies, of distinctly engaging appearance, whom we will call Miss
Goodchild, Miss Meekin, and Miss Mannekly, respectively. As the
Curtain rises, Miss Goodchiid is laboriously explaining to an old lady with
defective hearing the relative advantages of a Postal and a Post Office Order.
The Old Lady. Just say it over again, so that a body can hear ye. Tou
ynung Misses ought to be taught to speak out. 'stead o' mumbling the way you do.
Why can't ye give me a Postal Order for five-and-fourpence, and a'done with
it, eh?
Miss Goodchild [endeavouring to speak distinctly). A Post Office Order will
be what you require. See, you just fill in that form, and then I '11 make it out—
it'b quite simple.
Old Lady. Yes, I dessay, anything to save yourselves a little trouble!
You're all alike, you Post-Ofnce young women. As if I couldn't send five-and-
fourpence to my boy down at Toadley in the 'Ole, without filling.up a parcel o'
nons-nse!
Person behind [with a talent for grim irony of a heavy order). Can you
inform me whether there are any arrangements for providing luncheon for the
Public- because, as it appears I am to spend the entire day here——
Miss Goodchild [sweetly']. I'm so very sorry to keep you waiting, Sir. As
soon as ever I have attended to this lady !-■
Old Lady. If you call it attending—which I don't myself. There's your form.
Miss Goodchild. Oh, but you haven't told me whom you want .the order made
out to!
Old Lady. I dul—J told you it was my son. If you hadn't been wool-
gathering, you'd ha heard me. I'm sure J speak plain enough !
Miss Goodchild [laughing good-humoured/y). Oh, yes, you speak very plainly
—but I want the name in full, plea«e, to put in the instructions.
The Person with the Irony. "When you have quite concluded your little
conversation-
Miss Goodchild [as she fills in the order). Now, Sir, what can I do for you ?
The Person with the Irony. "Well, I should be glad to
be informed what you mean by requiring me to take out
a licence for a dog that died of distemper a fortnight
after I had him—and I had a warranty with him too'.
Miss Goodchild. Oh, but that isn't my department, you
see. You must go-(gives him elaborate instructions as
to the place he is to apply to.)
The Person. Ah, if you had had the oommon courtesy
to tell me all that before, I should not have wasted my
time like this 1 [ Exit in wrath.
A Feeble Lady [to Miss Meekin). Oh, I just thought
as I was passing by—may I put my umbrella here—and
these parcels p thank you. I daresay you can tell me.
Does the Mail for New Heligoland touoh at Port Sandune ?
They go every other Friday, don't they ? or is it changed
to alternate Tuesdays now P and will there be anyone on
board who would look after a box of Japanese rats if I
sent them ?—they '11 want feeding, or something I
suppose.
[Miss Meekin disentangles these inquiries, and
answers them categorically to the best of her
knowledge, information and belief.
Feeble Lady [disappointed). Oh, I quite thought you
would know all about it! Then you wouldn't send th«
rats, you think ?
Miss. Meekin. No, I don't think I should send the
rats, without someone in charge.
Feeble Lady. Oh, well, but I call it very unsatis-
factory—did I put my umbrella down in this corner, or
not ? Oh, [slightly annoyed) you have it . . . there must
be another parcel, do see if you haven't put it away by
mistake! No P Then it will be all right about the rats ?
[Fxit vaguely.
A Conversational Man [to Miss Mannerly). Warm,
isn't it ?
Miss Mannerly. Very warm. "What can I do for you ?
Conv. Man. Wait a bit. Give a man time to get his
breath . . . pbew! [In an injured tone.) Why, the
mercury in this office of yours must be over eighty at
least!
Miss Mannerly. I daresay . . . you wanted-?
Conv. Man. Daresay! Haven't you got a thermometer
—you can easily look for yourself!
Miss M. I'm afraid there isn't one. If you will tell
me what you came for P
Conv. Man. Ah, you wouldn't be in such a hurry if I
was a nice-looking young chap ! You'd be ready enough
to talk all day then—I know what you young ladies are
like !
Miss M. Perhaps we are not all alike—and I really
have no time to talk to anybody.
[ Turns away and weighs a parcel for somebody else.
Conv. M. So that's the way you treat a civil remark,
is it! I tell you what it is—you young women want
taking down; a little showing np will do you good!
Perhaps you haven't seen Punch lately? Well, you
look out—I could give Punch some wrinkles if I liked!
Ah, I thought that would make a change in you 1 What
do I want ? Well, 'pon my soul I forget what I came in
for. I '11 look in when you're in a better temper.
[Exit with the consciousness of having scored,
A Testy Mt.n[toMiss Meekin). Lookhere, thisissimply
scandalous! I've brought it to show you. My little
girl in the country sent home some silkworms to her
sister in a light paper-box. They were marked " fragile,
with care"—and this is how they arrived! (Thrusts a
crushed packet, unpleasantly stained, upon Miss Meexin's
notice.) That's your stamping, that is!
Miss Meekin. I'm sure I'm very sorry.
Testy M. Sorry! What's the use of that ? The
silkworms are dead! dead through culpable negligence
on the part of someone in this t-fnee—and if you 'II give
me a sheet of paper, I'll let the Postmaster-General
know what I think of you here. (Miss Meekin supplies
him with paper and an envelope ; he dashes down a
strong-worded screed with a gold pencil-case.) There,
you 'II hear more of that—I '11 bring these silkworms
home to somebody, if I have to do it through Parliament!
good-day to you.
Miss Meekin (as he is opening the door). Sir, one
moment!
Testy Man. No, I '11 listen to no apologies—disgraceful,
disgraceful!
Miss Meekin [a little roused). I wasn't going to
apologise—only to tell you you've left your penoil-case
on the counter.
PUNCH, OR THE LONDON
CHARIVARI. [AuarsT 6, 1887.
ILLUSTRATIONS TO THE POETS.
" A Ctcle of Cathay."
Lochsley Hall.
SOME MORE OFFICIAL JILLS.
(Whom Mr. Punch, with his characteristic sense of justice and fair-play, is proud to
recognise as no less representative than his earlier types — although he could wish
he had the pleasure of encountering them a little more frequently.)
Scene—A large Branch Post Office. The weather is oppressively warm, and
the Public slightly irritable in consequence. Behind the counter are three
Young Ladies, of distinctly engaging appearance, whom we will call Miss
Goodchild, Miss Meekin, and Miss Mannekly, respectively. As the
Curtain rises, Miss Goodchiid is laboriously explaining to an old lady with
defective hearing the relative advantages of a Postal and a Post Office Order.
The Old Lady. Just say it over again, so that a body can hear ye. Tou
ynung Misses ought to be taught to speak out. 'stead o' mumbling the way you do.
Why can't ye give me a Postal Order for five-and-fourpence, and a'done with
it, eh?
Miss Goodchild [endeavouring to speak distinctly). A Post Office Order will
be what you require. See, you just fill in that form, and then I '11 make it out—
it'b quite simple.
Old Lady. Yes, I dessay, anything to save yourselves a little trouble!
You're all alike, you Post-Ofnce young women. As if I couldn't send five-and-
fourpence to my boy down at Toadley in the 'Ole, without filling.up a parcel o'
nons-nse!
Person behind [with a talent for grim irony of a heavy order). Can you
inform me whether there are any arrangements for providing luncheon for the
Public- because, as it appears I am to spend the entire day here——
Miss Goodchild [sweetly']. I'm so very sorry to keep you waiting, Sir. As
soon as ever I have attended to this lady !-■
Old Lady. If you call it attending—which I don't myself. There's your form.
Miss Goodchild. Oh, but you haven't told me whom you want .the order made
out to!
Old Lady. I dul—J told you it was my son. If you hadn't been wool-
gathering, you'd ha heard me. I'm sure J speak plain enough !
Miss Goodchild [laughing good-humoured/y). Oh, yes, you speak very plainly
—but I want the name in full, plea«e, to put in the instructions.
The Person with the Irony. "When you have quite concluded your little
conversation-
Miss Goodchild [as she fills in the order). Now, Sir, what can I do for you ?
The Person with the Irony. "Well, I should be glad to
be informed what you mean by requiring me to take out
a licence for a dog that died of distemper a fortnight
after I had him—and I had a warranty with him too'.
Miss Goodchild. Oh, but that isn't my department, you
see. You must go-(gives him elaborate instructions as
to the place he is to apply to.)
The Person. Ah, if you had had the oommon courtesy
to tell me all that before, I should not have wasted my
time like this 1 [ Exit in wrath.
A Feeble Lady [to Miss Meekin). Oh, I just thought
as I was passing by—may I put my umbrella here—and
these parcels p thank you. I daresay you can tell me.
Does the Mail for New Heligoland touoh at Port Sandune ?
They go every other Friday, don't they ? or is it changed
to alternate Tuesdays now P and will there be anyone on
board who would look after a box of Japanese rats if I
sent them ?—they '11 want feeding, or something I
suppose.
[Miss Meekin disentangles these inquiries, and
answers them categorically to the best of her
knowledge, information and belief.
Feeble Lady [disappointed). Oh, I quite thought you
would know all about it! Then you wouldn't send th«
rats, you think ?
Miss. Meekin. No, I don't think I should send the
rats, without someone in charge.
Feeble Lady. Oh, well, but I call it very unsatis-
factory—did I put my umbrella down in this corner, or
not ? Oh, [slightly annoyed) you have it . . . there must
be another parcel, do see if you haven't put it away by
mistake! No P Then it will be all right about the rats ?
[Fxit vaguely.
A Conversational Man [to Miss Mannerly). Warm,
isn't it ?
Miss Mannerly. Very warm. "What can I do for you ?
Conv. Man. Wait a bit. Give a man time to get his
breath . . . pbew! [In an injured tone.) Why, the
mercury in this office of yours must be over eighty at
least!
Miss Mannerly. I daresay . . . you wanted-?
Conv. Man. Daresay! Haven't you got a thermometer
—you can easily look for yourself!
Miss M. I'm afraid there isn't one. If you will tell
me what you came for P
Conv. Man. Ah, you wouldn't be in such a hurry if I
was a nice-looking young chap ! You'd be ready enough
to talk all day then—I know what you young ladies are
like !
Miss M. Perhaps we are not all alike—and I really
have no time to talk to anybody.
[ Turns away and weighs a parcel for somebody else.
Conv. M. So that's the way you treat a civil remark,
is it! I tell you what it is—you young women want
taking down; a little showing np will do you good!
Perhaps you haven't seen Punch lately? Well, you
look out—I could give Punch some wrinkles if I liked!
Ah, I thought that would make a change in you 1 What
do I want ? Well, 'pon my soul I forget what I came in
for. I '11 look in when you're in a better temper.
[Exit with the consciousness of having scored,
A Testy Mt.n[toMiss Meekin). Lookhere, thisissimply
scandalous! I've brought it to show you. My little
girl in the country sent home some silkworms to her
sister in a light paper-box. They were marked " fragile,
with care"—and this is how they arrived! (Thrusts a
crushed packet, unpleasantly stained, upon Miss Meexin's
notice.) That's your stamping, that is!
Miss Meekin. I'm sure I'm very sorry.
Testy M. Sorry! What's the use of that ? The
silkworms are dead! dead through culpable negligence
on the part of someone in this t-fnee—and if you 'II give
me a sheet of paper, I'll let the Postmaster-General
know what I think of you here. (Miss Meekin supplies
him with paper and an envelope ; he dashes down a
strong-worded screed with a gold pencil-case.) There,
you 'II hear more of that—I '11 bring these silkworms
home to somebody, if I have to do it through Parliament!
good-day to you.
Miss Meekin (as he is opening the door). Sir, one
moment!
Testy Man. No, I '11 listen to no apologies—disgraceful,
disgraceful!
Miss Meekin [a little roused). I wasn't going to
apologise—only to tell you you've left your penoil-case
on the counter.