DOI issue:
September 10, 1887
DOI Page / Citation link:https://doi.org/10.11588/diglit.17658#0126
120
PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHAEIVAEI.
[September 10, 1887.
sat smiling', glad for once and away to be out of his customary hot
corner. However, all passed off peacefully"and'no bones were broken.
Thursday.—House yery thin during Question Time, and attendance
of Ministerialists during the entire sitting very scanty, considering
the programme. Then there was an incident. Incident came about
this way. Dillon had been seen during hour allowed for Minister-
baiting reading the huge print of an enormous green placard.
First impression he had grown short-sighted, and required larger
type; second, that he meant mischief. Second impression right
one. So to raise the question of the proclamation of the Ennis
County Clare Meeting he asked permission to move adjournment
of debate. Speaker put it, were there requisite number of Members
present ready to sanction a regular first-class, A 1, whack-where-
you-will, go-as-you-please, Irish row? Speaker used more Par-
liamentary language than this, but that was about his meaning.
Sixty Members sprang to their feet to testify their desire not to
quarrel, but to uphold constitutional privileges in the most peaceable
manner in the world. And then the row began.
Dillon had first shot. Meeting/was to be of the most peaceful
character. All that the boys wanted to do was to remind one another
of their inalienable right to denounce the wanton and overbearing
conduct of the _ Government. _ They would say this in the most
illigant manner imaginable, without giving offence to anybody. He
was going to speak to the boys himself, and so was Mr. William
O'Brifn, and so was Mr. Philip Stanhope. Sure, now, what harm
could there be, especially as the meeting was not to be held in a part
of the country that wanted pacifying ? And because some rack-rent-
ing landlords, wild with fury, and shaking in their shoes with
apprehension, asked for it to be proclaimed, it was to be! Could
this be tolerated ? No! He would be off that very evening to brave
the bayonet, the buckshot, the battle and the breeze!
Balfoub mildly remonstrating. Ennis, County Clare, best possible
place in the world; but meeting might cause peasantry to lose the
Arcadian innocence for which they are at present distinguished.
Murmurs from Home-Rulers, and, later on, "outrage" by Phil
Stanhope, who actually had the audacity to speak of Chief Secretary
as a "whimsical and lackadaisical gentleman." The Speaker
sprang to his feet, and sharply rebuked the outrager. Only fancy !
Calling Arthur Baleour's manner whimsical! and lackadaisical!
So monstrous! So blood-curdling ! so untrue!
The usual gentlemen who patronise the "divarsion" having had
their full share of the fun, the debate was brought to a conclusion.
Then the gentlemen turned their attention to the remaining Irish
Estimates, and enjoyed themselves until the next morning.
Friday and Saturday.— Sittings at this time of the year get so
mixed, that they take two days to give a single date. Committee of
the House as before; Irish Estimates as before ; '' illigant divar-
sion" as before. And so, half asleep, the remains of what, a few
months ago, had been a self-respecting House of Commons con-
tinued its dreary Session.
Total for the Week.—Irish Business carried on in Irish manner,
and Chamberlain booked for Canada.
SOME NOTES AT STARMOUTH.
An outcast once more! I exchange the blessing invoked on the
perfidious Plappee for curse of equal calibre. On—on—like the
"Wandering Jew. or the Pilgrim of Love.
No rest but the hotel for me! Starmouth
landladies beginning to enter into the
humour of the thing—they appear now
with a broad grin, repeated on faces of
accepted lodgers at windows. They
evidently do not consider me a sound
investment. Meet other homeless ones,
searching — we scowl at one another
jealously.
Evening is getting on—which is more
Sound Investment. than I am Sinking into a state of
maudlin self-pity. My poor Drama—
and all the things I ordered to be sent in to Plapper's ! He, or his
lodger, will read by my lamp, bathe in my bath, feed on my jam—
while I . . . but I cannot trust myself to think of it—or Starmouth
may lose one of its leading opticians ? .... Later—saved! It still
seems incredible to me—but I have rooms at last! At Mrs. Surge's
—a widow lady, who, as she tells me herself, has not been in a hurry
to put up her card, as she likes "to pick her lodgers." And she
has picked Me—me, the Blighted, the scorned of Starmouth! No
sea-view—but plenty of horsehair. Sunflowers and mignonette in
long iront garden; bow- window, and regiment of geraniums drawn
up in pots on little table. Go back, and recover luggage.
Return to Mrs. Surge's roof, not without nervous apprehensions-
she may repent, or I might find the house a smoking ruin. Can't
get over an idea that the Pates are pursuing me. However, they
seem to be taking a rest just now. I am free at last to study Star-
mouth. Hitherto I have had eyes for nothing but little cards with
"Apartments " on them.
No doubt about Starmouth being full. Streets crowded. Most of
the young men promenading in flannels and cricket "blazers," of
startling brilliancy. Children, young girls, and stout matrons in
striped linen yachting-caps. (When y^ou are elderly, and at all
stout, you do not appear to advantage in this form of head-dress.)
Chars-d-bancs, flys, tricycles, goat-chaises. Always thought Star-
mouth was a picturesque fishing-village, with windmills, wooden
huts, and drying-nets along beach. It isn't.
Still, of course, the change from all London associations, the
absolute quiet must have tendency to refresh the fagged brain.
(Always rather a gratifying reflection somehow, to think one has a
fagged brain.) I observe they are doing Our Boys at the theatre.
At the Aquarium are the Bueeon Bro-
thers with their celebrated Acrobatic Ass
"from all the London Music-Halls."
Switchback Bail way, too, on the beach,
and automatic machines about every five
yards. Plenty of life here.
I am becoming gradually aware that
Starmouth, though full, is not exactly
fashionable. I infer this, partly from the
fact that already I instinctively turn
round to look curiously at the speaker,
when I hear a duly aspirated "h," d la
mode d'Islington, partly from the preva- J.s-ltnked-on.
lence and popularity of the whelk-stalls on the Esplanade. Really
good society, even in its laxeBt mood, would scarcely support quite
so many.
On the Pier. Military Band. View of Beach from sea vory
beautiful at night, fairy-like effect of continuous line of light from
whelk-stalls. Yet one would hesitate to put a touch of description
like that into a novel—curious the prudery of fiction, your realistic
French author would describe contents of all the little saucers. That
is Art, and I shall see if I can work it in to my drama somehow.
Leave Pier. Back to Esplanade. Crowd round young man singing
to concertina a ditty about a certain Jemima who though " so fond of
her beer, was always a Mug."
Sentimental Song, to harp, at next corner. About a Stowaway,
with golden curls, and "dear baby lips," and "sweet little eyes,"
how a cruel Mate found him in the hold, and was so touched that he
kissed him on the forehead for speaking the " tree-youth," and the
^m.^./,, jgr crew wept. Most pathetic — Singer
(W#£ ,P^vlW himself compelled to retire to public-
''\;'y 'Is^KpT house at conclusion.
Bed. Dream my Nautical Drama
accepted by Mr. Irving — a waking
dream, too!
Sunday.—Breakfast. My landlady
evidently person of strict propriety.
My two boiled eggs come in dressed in
little red-worsted petticoats. It never
Holloway. occurred to me before that a bare egg
was calculated to call up a blush—but
really they make me feel almost shy now—they do look so coy, so
modest in their simple attire. Possibly, though, Starmouth eggs
are not very strong, and require artificial warmth.
Bells. Stream of people, looking good, in tall hats and best
things, going inland—unregenerate stream, in tweeds, making for
sands. Salvation Army, with fervent but tactless drum. Sunday
not a day for Nautical Drama. Beach. "Will I take a tract?"
Hate being rude, so accept..... I have gone a hundred yards,
and I have fourteen tracts—almost enough to start distributing on
my own account.
Evening.—Sacred Music. That is, I go to pier when Military
Band is playing. Band certainly broad in its views—I find them
performing an unmistakable polka.
There are sacred dances, I know, in
Oratorios—but surely not polkas ? As
they follow it up with Faust, and the
Jeunesse Doree Valse, I realise that
I am on the secular, or Trafalgar
Pier—it is Waterloo Pier that has the
Sacred Band.
Crush tremendous; all the art, chi-
valry, and beauty of Holloway and
Mile End pass in dazzling procession
before me. " Shouldn't you laugh if My Lend,
this old pier was to come down, eh?
There's a tidy lot on it." observes a Blazer to a Yachting Cap. I
should 'ang on to you if it did," responds the Cap, tenderly—" we'd
all gow down together! "
The pier is certainly crowded—is it strong? Don't like the idea
of going down with my Drama unwritten. Shall retire—good night's
rest, and then start fresh with Drama in morning.
KOXICE.—Rejected Giininunications or Contributions, whether MS., Printed Matter, Drawings, or Pictures of any description, will
in no case be returned, not even whea accompanied by a Stamped and Addressed Envelope, Cover, or Wrapper. To this rul»
there will be no exception.
PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHAEIVAEI.
[September 10, 1887.
sat smiling', glad for once and away to be out of his customary hot
corner. However, all passed off peacefully"and'no bones were broken.
Thursday.—House yery thin during Question Time, and attendance
of Ministerialists during the entire sitting very scanty, considering
the programme. Then there was an incident. Incident came about
this way. Dillon had been seen during hour allowed for Minister-
baiting reading the huge print of an enormous green placard.
First impression he had grown short-sighted, and required larger
type; second, that he meant mischief. Second impression right
one. So to raise the question of the proclamation of the Ennis
County Clare Meeting he asked permission to move adjournment
of debate. Speaker put it, were there requisite number of Members
present ready to sanction a regular first-class, A 1, whack-where-
you-will, go-as-you-please, Irish row? Speaker used more Par-
liamentary language than this, but that was about his meaning.
Sixty Members sprang to their feet to testify their desire not to
quarrel, but to uphold constitutional privileges in the most peaceable
manner in the world. And then the row began.
Dillon had first shot. Meeting/was to be of the most peaceful
character. All that the boys wanted to do was to remind one another
of their inalienable right to denounce the wanton and overbearing
conduct of the _ Government. _ They would say this in the most
illigant manner imaginable, without giving offence to anybody. He
was going to speak to the boys himself, and so was Mr. William
O'Brifn, and so was Mr. Philip Stanhope. Sure, now, what harm
could there be, especially as the meeting was not to be held in a part
of the country that wanted pacifying ? And because some rack-rent-
ing landlords, wild with fury, and shaking in their shoes with
apprehension, asked for it to be proclaimed, it was to be! Could
this be tolerated ? No! He would be off that very evening to brave
the bayonet, the buckshot, the battle and the breeze!
Balfoub mildly remonstrating. Ennis, County Clare, best possible
place in the world; but meeting might cause peasantry to lose the
Arcadian innocence for which they are at present distinguished.
Murmurs from Home-Rulers, and, later on, "outrage" by Phil
Stanhope, who actually had the audacity to speak of Chief Secretary
as a "whimsical and lackadaisical gentleman." The Speaker
sprang to his feet, and sharply rebuked the outrager. Only fancy !
Calling Arthur Baleour's manner whimsical! and lackadaisical!
So monstrous! So blood-curdling ! so untrue!
The usual gentlemen who patronise the "divarsion" having had
their full share of the fun, the debate was brought to a conclusion.
Then the gentlemen turned their attention to the remaining Irish
Estimates, and enjoyed themselves until the next morning.
Friday and Saturday.— Sittings at this time of the year get so
mixed, that they take two days to give a single date. Committee of
the House as before; Irish Estimates as before ; '' illigant divar-
sion" as before. And so, half asleep, the remains of what, a few
months ago, had been a self-respecting House of Commons con-
tinued its dreary Session.
Total for the Week.—Irish Business carried on in Irish manner,
and Chamberlain booked for Canada.
SOME NOTES AT STARMOUTH.
An outcast once more! I exchange the blessing invoked on the
perfidious Plappee for curse of equal calibre. On—on—like the
"Wandering Jew. or the Pilgrim of Love.
No rest but the hotel for me! Starmouth
landladies beginning to enter into the
humour of the thing—they appear now
with a broad grin, repeated on faces of
accepted lodgers at windows. They
evidently do not consider me a sound
investment. Meet other homeless ones,
searching — we scowl at one another
jealously.
Evening is getting on—which is more
Sound Investment. than I am Sinking into a state of
maudlin self-pity. My poor Drama—
and all the things I ordered to be sent in to Plapper's ! He, or his
lodger, will read by my lamp, bathe in my bath, feed on my jam—
while I . . . but I cannot trust myself to think of it—or Starmouth
may lose one of its leading opticians ? .... Later—saved! It still
seems incredible to me—but I have rooms at last! At Mrs. Surge's
—a widow lady, who, as she tells me herself, has not been in a hurry
to put up her card, as she likes "to pick her lodgers." And she
has picked Me—me, the Blighted, the scorned of Starmouth! No
sea-view—but plenty of horsehair. Sunflowers and mignonette in
long iront garden; bow- window, and regiment of geraniums drawn
up in pots on little table. Go back, and recover luggage.
Return to Mrs. Surge's roof, not without nervous apprehensions-
she may repent, or I might find the house a smoking ruin. Can't
get over an idea that the Pates are pursuing me. However, they
seem to be taking a rest just now. I am free at last to study Star-
mouth. Hitherto I have had eyes for nothing but little cards with
"Apartments " on them.
No doubt about Starmouth being full. Streets crowded. Most of
the young men promenading in flannels and cricket "blazers," of
startling brilliancy. Children, young girls, and stout matrons in
striped linen yachting-caps. (When y^ou are elderly, and at all
stout, you do not appear to advantage in this form of head-dress.)
Chars-d-bancs, flys, tricycles, goat-chaises. Always thought Star-
mouth was a picturesque fishing-village, with windmills, wooden
huts, and drying-nets along beach. It isn't.
Still, of course, the change from all London associations, the
absolute quiet must have tendency to refresh the fagged brain.
(Always rather a gratifying reflection somehow, to think one has a
fagged brain.) I observe they are doing Our Boys at the theatre.
At the Aquarium are the Bueeon Bro-
thers with their celebrated Acrobatic Ass
"from all the London Music-Halls."
Switchback Bail way, too, on the beach,
and automatic machines about every five
yards. Plenty of life here.
I am becoming gradually aware that
Starmouth, though full, is not exactly
fashionable. I infer this, partly from the
fact that already I instinctively turn
round to look curiously at the speaker,
when I hear a duly aspirated "h," d la
mode d'Islington, partly from the preva- J.s-ltnked-on.
lence and popularity of the whelk-stalls on the Esplanade. Really
good society, even in its laxeBt mood, would scarcely support quite
so many.
On the Pier. Military Band. View of Beach from sea vory
beautiful at night, fairy-like effect of continuous line of light from
whelk-stalls. Yet one would hesitate to put a touch of description
like that into a novel—curious the prudery of fiction, your realistic
French author would describe contents of all the little saucers. That
is Art, and I shall see if I can work it in to my drama somehow.
Leave Pier. Back to Esplanade. Crowd round young man singing
to concertina a ditty about a certain Jemima who though " so fond of
her beer, was always a Mug."
Sentimental Song, to harp, at next corner. About a Stowaway,
with golden curls, and "dear baby lips," and "sweet little eyes,"
how a cruel Mate found him in the hold, and was so touched that he
kissed him on the forehead for speaking the " tree-youth," and the
^m.^./,, jgr crew wept. Most pathetic — Singer
(W#£ ,P^vlW himself compelled to retire to public-
''\;'y 'Is^KpT house at conclusion.
Bed. Dream my Nautical Drama
accepted by Mr. Irving — a waking
dream, too!
Sunday.—Breakfast. My landlady
evidently person of strict propriety.
My two boiled eggs come in dressed in
little red-worsted petticoats. It never
Holloway. occurred to me before that a bare egg
was calculated to call up a blush—but
really they make me feel almost shy now—they do look so coy, so
modest in their simple attire. Possibly, though, Starmouth eggs
are not very strong, and require artificial warmth.
Bells. Stream of people, looking good, in tall hats and best
things, going inland—unregenerate stream, in tweeds, making for
sands. Salvation Army, with fervent but tactless drum. Sunday
not a day for Nautical Drama. Beach. "Will I take a tract?"
Hate being rude, so accept..... I have gone a hundred yards,
and I have fourteen tracts—almost enough to start distributing on
my own account.
Evening.—Sacred Music. That is, I go to pier when Military
Band is playing. Band certainly broad in its views—I find them
performing an unmistakable polka.
There are sacred dances, I know, in
Oratorios—but surely not polkas ? As
they follow it up with Faust, and the
Jeunesse Doree Valse, I realise that
I am on the secular, or Trafalgar
Pier—it is Waterloo Pier that has the
Sacred Band.
Crush tremendous; all the art, chi-
valry, and beauty of Holloway and
Mile End pass in dazzling procession
before me. " Shouldn't you laugh if My Lend,
this old pier was to come down, eh?
There's a tidy lot on it." observes a Blazer to a Yachting Cap. I
should 'ang on to you if it did," responds the Cap, tenderly—" we'd
all gow down together! "
The pier is certainly crowded—is it strong? Don't like the idea
of going down with my Drama unwritten. Shall retire—good night's
rest, and then start fresh with Drama in morning.
KOXICE.—Rejected Giininunications or Contributions, whether MS., Printed Matter, Drawings, or Pictures of any description, will
in no case be returned, not even whea accompanied by a Stamped and Addressed Envelope, Cover, or Wrapper. To this rul»
there will be no exception.