Punch (93.1887)

September 17, 1887.]

PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.

121

OUB IGNOBLE SELVES.

{Lament by a Reader of "Letters to the Papers.")

On! "bless us and save us! Like men' to
behave us
We Britons once held it our glory';
NowParty bids fair to befool and enslave us.

We 're lost between Liberal and Tory !
Some quidnunc inditeth a letter to Glad-
stone,

The style of it, " Stand and deliver! »
Its speech may be rude, and its tone quite
a cad's tone,
Its logic may make a man shiver.
Au contraire it may be most lucid and
modest,

In taste and in pertinence equal
(Though such a conduction would be of the
oddest),

But what, anyhow, is the sequel?
Ead papers all cry, "We've once'more
before us
An instance of folly inrushing."
Whilst all the Conservative Journals in chorus

Declare " it is perfectly crushing! "
"Little Pedlington's" snubbed by the Liberal Press,

And urged such fool tricks to abandon.
Cry Tories, "I guess the Old Man's in a mess,

He hasn't a leg left to stand on! "
Oh ! save us and bless us! The shirt of old Nessus,

Was not such a snare to the hero,
As poisonous faction. Crass fools we confess us,

With sense and with spirit at zero.
If thus we comport us like blind sprawling kittens,

Or pitiful partisan poodles,
'Twill prove Party makes e'en of freeminded Britons,
A race of incontinent noodles!

TO TEAPOT BAY AND BACK."

Lohtjonees who like but are weary of the attractions of Eastend-
on-Mud, and want a change, can scarcely do better than spend
twenty-four hours in that rising watering-place Teapot Bay. I say
advisedly "rising," because the operation has been going on for more
than forty years. In these very pages a description of the "juvenile
town," appeared nearly half a century ago. Then it was said that
the place was " so infantine that many
of the houses were not out of their
scaffold-poles, whilst others had not yet
cut their windows," and the place has
been growing ever since — but very
gradually. The "ground plan of the
High Street" of those days would still
be useful as a guide, although it is
only fair to say that several of the
fields then occupied by cabbages are
now to some extent covered with
Uieap and Picturesque Eoots empty villas labelled "To Let." In
for Tourists, the past the High Street was inter-

sected by roads described as "a street, half houses, half potatoes,"
a street apparently doing a good stroke of business," "a street,
°ut no houses," "a street indigent, but houseless," "a street
wiich appears to have been nipped in the kitchens," "a street
thickly populated with three inhabitants,and last but not least, " a
street in such a flourishing condition that it has started a boarding-
house and seminary." The present condition of Teapot Bay is much
JP-e same—the roads running between two lines of cellars (contribu-
tions to houses that have yet to be built) are numerous and testify to
£°.°d intentions never fulfilled. There is thesame meaningless tower
^th a small illuminated clock at the top of it, and if the pier is not
<luite so long as it was thirty or forty years ago, it still seems to be
occupying the same site.

, -Ihe means of getting to Teapot Bay is by railway. Although no
q\°'q.bt numbered amongst the cheap and picturesque routes for tou-
^lsts, the place is apparently considered by the authorities as more
°r less of a joke. Margate, Ramsgate, Westgate and Broadstairs,
S,re taken au serieux, and have trains which keep their time; but
i eapot Bay, seemingly, is looked upon as a legitimate excuse for
lighter. If two trains are fixed to start at 12, and 12'30,* the
a?tiVe °'clook train will leave at 12/30, and the 12-30 at 1. The
S t '"es endeavour to have a train in hand at the end of the day,
■pjd I fancy are generally successful in carrying out their intentions.
5ut between London and Teapot Bay there are many slippery car-
ies, which stop at various Junctions, and refuse to go any further

in the., required direction. When this" happens, the weary traveller
has to descend, cross a platform, and try another line. If he is a
man of determination, and is not easily disheartened, nine times out
of ten he ultimately reaches Teapot Bay, where his arrival causes
more astonishment than gratification.

When I got to this " rising watering-place " the other day, I found
an omnibus in waiting, ready to carry me to the town, which is
some little distance from the station. We travelled by circular
tour, which included a trot through many of the fields of my boy-
hood, now, alas! potatoeless, and covered with weeds! In one of
these fields I noticed a canvas booth,
three or four Hags, and a group of
about twenty spectators, inspecting a
gentleman in a scarlet coat, mounted
on rather a large-boned horse.

" They still have a country-fair
here ? " I suggested to the person who
had collected my sixpence.

"That isn't a fair, Sir—them's the
Paces," was the reply.

"Not very well attended, I fear?"
I observed.

" Better than they was last year- , A Clrcular Tom'-
why the whole town has gone to see them this time."

A little later we reached the principal inn of the place, which was
described in a local Handbook as "an old-established hotel, but
comfortable." Rather, to my annoyance (as I was anxious to preserve
my incognito), I was received by the landlord with respectful cor-
diality. " Glad you have honoured us, Sir—proud of your presence."

I made a sign to him not to betray me, and asked for my room.

" Well, Sir, we must put you into the Rotunda."

Again by a gesture inviting silence as to my identity, I mounted a
flight of stairs, and found myself in a room that once, I think, must
have been entirely arbourMuch of the arbour still remained, but a
large slice had been partitioned off affording space for a chimney-
piece, two chairs, a washstand and a bed. By opening a window which
reached to the ground, I found myself on a balcony covered in with
creepers, and beneath which was a gas-lamp labelled " Hotel Tap."
In front of me was a field with the foundation (Ion g since completed) for
some houses at the end of it. On my left another field in the same
state of passive preparation, and on my right a side view of the
Ocean. It was growing dark, so after an " old-fashioned but com-
fortable " dinner, I went out for a stroll.

"Pleased you should honour us," said the landlord, as he opened
the door to allow me to pass. Again to my annoyance, as it was
vexatious to be thus identified in this out-of-the-way place as one of
the celebrities of the hour.

The visitors and other inhabitants of Teapot Bay had returned
from the Races, and were walking on the pier listening to the band.
The gentlemen were in flannels, the ladies decorated with yards of
white ribbon. The band was more select than numerous. Its con-
ductor beat time with his left hand, while with his right he played
the " air " of the tune at the moment attracting his attention upon an
elaborate instrument that looked like a cross between a clarionet and
an old-fashioned brass serpent. There was not much drumming,
because the drummer spent nearly all his ample leisure on more or
less successful efforts to vend pro- ^
grammes. The band was in a gusty mv
alcove at one end of the pier, a small HJ«
room covered with placards of a Wizard
who, after making the acquaintance of
"The Crowned Heads of Europe," was
to perform there "to-night," was at ,
the other. Having soon exhausted the
pleasure derivable from listening to the
band, I sought out the wizard.

"Oh, he ain't going to do it again
until next Saturday," was the answer „ y , , „

of a little girl who had charge of a UP •

turnstile, when I asked for a ticket. But you can see him then."

I retired. As all the shops (possibly a couple of dozen) were closed,
I returned to my hotel—really a very comfortable one. In the
morning I thought I would have a sea-bath. There were a few
machines, which were manipulated with ropes and windlasses. There
was an elderly man in charge, who informed me that he could not
lower one of these vehicles until his mate returned.

" Gone to breakfast?" I suggested.

" Breakfast—no one here has time for breakfast! " was the reply

When I left, the landlord again murmured his thanks for the
honour I had done him by patronising his hotel. Still anxious to
preserve my incognito, in bidding him adieu I begged him not to allow
my name to appear m the Visitors' List.

" You may be sure I won't Sir," said he with a bow as he opened
the door, and a tip-mviting 'boots" put my portmanteau on the
omnibus starting for the station,—" as I don't know it!"

On the whole I prefer Eastend-on-Mud to Teapot Bay!

vol. xciii, m