DOI Heft:
October 8, 1887
DOI Seite / Zitierlink:https://doi.org/10.11588/diglit.17658#0174
16S
PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.
[October 8, 1887.
SOME NOTES AT STARMOUTH.
I must say they take rather a matter of course view here of my
engagement. No one would suppose from their manner that there
was anything at all unusual in a match hetween a Government
official and a confectioner's assistant! Louise's Aunt, indeed,
(whether sincerely, or from motives of policy, I hardly know,) does
not conceal her regret that a certain Robert Ponking had not'' spoken
out" while he had the opportunity.
Ponking is a rising salesman in the
trimming department of some uphol-
stering business, and doing, I under-
stand, extremely well. Still, I do
flatter myself — hut one can't say
■i_!j3a these things, unfortunately!
An encounter — which, hut for
Louise's exquisite common sense,
might have been awkward—has just
taken place. ¥e met Ponking on
the Pier. It struck me that the
A Cutter making for the Peer Aunt's surprise was a little overdone,
but he was evidently unprepared for
me. Louise perfectly composed, however ; introduced me as " her
intended " (a trifle bourgeois this, perhaps, but it is difficult to know
what to say—I felt it myself.) Ponking allowed her to see he was
fearfully cut up, and I am afraid she is reproaching herself a little,
poor girl!
"We have met him again; he has reached the saturnine and
Byronic stage; Louise remonstrated with him for smoking so many
cigars, which she was sure were bad for him [his cigars are bad for
everybody else at all events!) and he replied gloomily that there was
no one to care now what he did, and oversmoking was as pleasant a
way of leaving the world as most. I can see this is depressing
Louise'; she is not nearly so bright when alone with me as she used
to be— she does not even take much interest in my Drama ! I do my
best to comfort her by declaring that Pocking is only "posing," and
has not the remotest idea of dying for love ; but that only seems to
irritate her—she has such a tender little heart.
As we are constantly meeting him about, I appeal to him privately
to brighten up a little. He is much affected, says I must make some
allowance for his position, and implores me not to forbid him Louise's
society altogether. He will make an effort to be gayer in the future,
he promises me, the mask shall only be dropped in private. After
all, he is Ale's friend, and an especial favourite of the Aunt's. If
he does not recognise the propriety of going, I can't send him away
—we must see something of him. I should be sorry for him myself
—if only he were not such an underbred beast!
There is certainly a decided alteration in Ponking ; he now affects
the most rollicking high spirits —
though why he should find it neces-
sary to dissemble his grief by playing
the fool all over the sands is more
than I can understand. But he grinds
piano-organs, and goes round with the
tambourine ; receives penny galvanic
shocks, and howls until he collects a
crowd; has "larks" with the love-
birds which pick out fortunes, and
chaffs all the Professors of Phrenology,
choosing, as the head-quarters of ,
his exploits, any place wnere Louise "V™ county
and I happen to be, to whom he *
returns, with roars of laughter, to tell us his "latest." Then
he plays practical jokes on me, chalking things on my back, and
putting sand down my neck. It is all very well for him to plead
that he does these things "to hide an aching heart,"—but if he hides
it in this way, he won't be able to find it again—that's all! I
can see, too, it disgusts Louise, who bites her lips a good deal,
although, she says, it is " quite a treat to see how Mr. Ponking is
enjoying himself." I am afraid, for all that, that she thinks me a
little too serious. Perhaps I am—I must prove to her that it is
possible to rollick with refinement. But, somehow, I can never make
her laugh as Ponking does.
I very seldom have a quiet hour with her now; her brother has
persuaded her that she ought " to see more of what's going on," and
' do as others do." Her wishes, are, of course, paramount with me—
although I cannot see the enjoyment of going to the open-air Music-
Hail quite so often, nor did I come here to play "penny nap," on the
sands all the afternoon. If, too, Louise must speculate, she might
"go nap" with more judgment, and I do strongly object to the
ostentatious generosity with which Ponking throws away his best
cards, rather than rob her of a trick—it is in the worst taste, and yet
I fear she is touched by it. In the evening several of us promenade
the town arm in arm; Ponking has a banjo and Ale an accordion.
It is unpleasant to be warned by a policeman not to make so much
noise over the " Sot/, oh, what Joy," ditty, and I don't know why
he singled me out—I was only humming the confounded thing!
They generally come in and have supper with me, which Mrs. Surge
complains bitterly about; she says the gentlemen stay so late, and
are so noisy, and her room smells of
smoke so next day. I am aware of
that, because I have to sit in it. I
don't like Ponking at any time, but,
if possible, he is rather more detest-
able in his sentimental moods, which
generally come upon him after supper,
when he informs me that the 'alo has
departed from his life, and begs me,
in broken accents, to allow Louise to
visit his tomb occasionally. If he
were only there !
" Uneven is the course To-day Louise appeared, for the
Ihkeitnotr'-Sha/cspeare. fo^ tim6) in a gtriped yaolltmg-cap.
I merely hinted, very gently, that, as she had never been on board
a yacht in her life, and the cap did not even suit her, I pre-
ferred her ordinary style of head-dress, when she grew angry at
once. Everybody, she informed me, was not of my opinion—
Mr. Ponking had complimented her particularly—hang Ponking !
I find myself constantly greeting and being greeted by Blazers.
I am sure I don't know how I have come to be acquainted with so
many—they all ask me "How is myself," and, in answer to my
polite, but scarcely warm, inquiries after their health, reply that
they are "ter-rific"—which they are.' Ponking was asked by
Louise the other afternoon whether he was "ready for his tea;" and
answered briefly, but emphatically, "Wait till I get 'old of it!"
Louise remarked afterwards that he was " so quick." I doubt
very much whether she would say as much of me. I am as fond
of her as ever—in some respects, fonder—but I cannot help noticing
these things—I cannot help seeing that Starmouth is not doing her
any good.
_ Afternoon : on the Sands.—Louise and Ale have been scooping a
pit. When it is dug, she says coquettishly that there is just room
for me. I decline, a little curtly perhaps—but I really am surprised
at Louise—such extremely bad style! Her Aunt, who is eating
plums hard-by, says "some people seem to think themselves too
grand for anything." I can hear Ale whispering that Louise would
not have to ask " poor old Ponk " twice.
Louise says, pouting, that she shall not ask me again. I can see
I have hurt her feelings. After all, it is possible to be too particular
—there is no harm in it—countless couples around us are making
themselves at least equally conspicuous. Somehow I never can be as
firm with Louise as I am with most people .... I ought to be
comfortable, with her head resting upon my shoulder and my arm
encircling her waist (she insists on this)—but, as a matter of fact, I
catch myself remarking how very much
Louise has caught the sun of late.
And she has developed quite a twang
within the last few days!
Ponking has just come up; he has
arranged with a photographer to take
us all, just as we are, in a group. As
Ponking and Alf consider it humorous
to be taken in the act of making hor-
rible grimaces, we promptly become
objects of general interest. I should
not like to be seen by any of the fellows
at the office just now. Coming with a Hush!
We are all posed—and a nice picture we shall make!—when, on
the outskirts of the crowd, I see a slender stately figure, which does
not seem quite to belong to Starmouth.
There is actually a sort of resemblance—but that is absurd ! She
notices the crowd, and as she pauses with a half-indifferent curiosity,
I see her full face .... It is almost too terrible to be true—but I
am under no delusion,—it is Ethel Derinq !
" Quite steady all, for one moment, please," says the photographer.
If I could only bury my head in the sand like an ostrich,—but that
would excite remark, I suppose, and, besides, there is no time I
Theatrical Noes to Queries.
Mrs. John Wood is not engaged with a sequel to East Lynne, but
with John Clatton.
Akthue Cecil was not a favourite of Queen Elizabeth ; and she
never received him at the Court in his life.
Wilson Barrett does not always make a speech after an earth-
quake.
And lastly it is not true that Mrs. James Brown-Potter was
Louise begs me to go, to see that Ale does not get into trouble— instructed in her art by Mrs. Siddons, Mrs. Jordan, Miss Ellen
which may be necessary enough, but who will see that I get into none ? I Teret, Mme. Saeah Beenhaedt, and Miss Minnie Palmer.
(j-^ KOTICE.—Rejected Communications or Contributions, whether MS., Printed Matter, Drawings, or Pictures of any description, will
in no case be returned, not even when accompanied by a Stamped and Addressed Envelope, Cover, or Wrapper. To this rule
there will be no exception.
PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.
[October 8, 1887.
SOME NOTES AT STARMOUTH.
I must say they take rather a matter of course view here of my
engagement. No one would suppose from their manner that there
was anything at all unusual in a match hetween a Government
official and a confectioner's assistant! Louise's Aunt, indeed,
(whether sincerely, or from motives of policy, I hardly know,) does
not conceal her regret that a certain Robert Ponking had not'' spoken
out" while he had the opportunity.
Ponking is a rising salesman in the
trimming department of some uphol-
stering business, and doing, I under-
stand, extremely well. Still, I do
flatter myself — hut one can't say
■i_!j3a these things, unfortunately!
An encounter — which, hut for
Louise's exquisite common sense,
might have been awkward—has just
taken place. ¥e met Ponking on
the Pier. It struck me that the
A Cutter making for the Peer Aunt's surprise was a little overdone,
but he was evidently unprepared for
me. Louise perfectly composed, however ; introduced me as " her
intended " (a trifle bourgeois this, perhaps, but it is difficult to know
what to say—I felt it myself.) Ponking allowed her to see he was
fearfully cut up, and I am afraid she is reproaching herself a little,
poor girl!
"We have met him again; he has reached the saturnine and
Byronic stage; Louise remonstrated with him for smoking so many
cigars, which she was sure were bad for him [his cigars are bad for
everybody else at all events!) and he replied gloomily that there was
no one to care now what he did, and oversmoking was as pleasant a
way of leaving the world as most. I can see this is depressing
Louise'; she is not nearly so bright when alone with me as she used
to be— she does not even take much interest in my Drama ! I do my
best to comfort her by declaring that Pocking is only "posing," and
has not the remotest idea of dying for love ; but that only seems to
irritate her—she has such a tender little heart.
As we are constantly meeting him about, I appeal to him privately
to brighten up a little. He is much affected, says I must make some
allowance for his position, and implores me not to forbid him Louise's
society altogether. He will make an effort to be gayer in the future,
he promises me, the mask shall only be dropped in private. After
all, he is Ale's friend, and an especial favourite of the Aunt's. If
he does not recognise the propriety of going, I can't send him away
—we must see something of him. I should be sorry for him myself
—if only he were not such an underbred beast!
There is certainly a decided alteration in Ponking ; he now affects
the most rollicking high spirits —
though why he should find it neces-
sary to dissemble his grief by playing
the fool all over the sands is more
than I can understand. But he grinds
piano-organs, and goes round with the
tambourine ; receives penny galvanic
shocks, and howls until he collects a
crowd; has "larks" with the love-
birds which pick out fortunes, and
chaffs all the Professors of Phrenology,
choosing, as the head-quarters of ,
his exploits, any place wnere Louise "V™ county
and I happen to be, to whom he *
returns, with roars of laughter, to tell us his "latest." Then
he plays practical jokes on me, chalking things on my back, and
putting sand down my neck. It is all very well for him to plead
that he does these things "to hide an aching heart,"—but if he hides
it in this way, he won't be able to find it again—that's all! I
can see, too, it disgusts Louise, who bites her lips a good deal,
although, she says, it is " quite a treat to see how Mr. Ponking is
enjoying himself." I am afraid, for all that, that she thinks me a
little too serious. Perhaps I am—I must prove to her that it is
possible to rollick with refinement. But, somehow, I can never make
her laugh as Ponking does.
I very seldom have a quiet hour with her now; her brother has
persuaded her that she ought " to see more of what's going on," and
' do as others do." Her wishes, are, of course, paramount with me—
although I cannot see the enjoyment of going to the open-air Music-
Hail quite so often, nor did I come here to play "penny nap," on the
sands all the afternoon. If, too, Louise must speculate, she might
"go nap" with more judgment, and I do strongly object to the
ostentatious generosity with which Ponking throws away his best
cards, rather than rob her of a trick—it is in the worst taste, and yet
I fear she is touched by it. In the evening several of us promenade
the town arm in arm; Ponking has a banjo and Ale an accordion.
It is unpleasant to be warned by a policeman not to make so much
noise over the " Sot/, oh, what Joy," ditty, and I don't know why
he singled me out—I was only humming the confounded thing!
They generally come in and have supper with me, which Mrs. Surge
complains bitterly about; she says the gentlemen stay so late, and
are so noisy, and her room smells of
smoke so next day. I am aware of
that, because I have to sit in it. I
don't like Ponking at any time, but,
if possible, he is rather more detest-
able in his sentimental moods, which
generally come upon him after supper,
when he informs me that the 'alo has
departed from his life, and begs me,
in broken accents, to allow Louise to
visit his tomb occasionally. If he
were only there !
" Uneven is the course To-day Louise appeared, for the
Ihkeitnotr'-Sha/cspeare. fo^ tim6) in a gtriped yaolltmg-cap.
I merely hinted, very gently, that, as she had never been on board
a yacht in her life, and the cap did not even suit her, I pre-
ferred her ordinary style of head-dress, when she grew angry at
once. Everybody, she informed me, was not of my opinion—
Mr. Ponking had complimented her particularly—hang Ponking !
I find myself constantly greeting and being greeted by Blazers.
I am sure I don't know how I have come to be acquainted with so
many—they all ask me "How is myself," and, in answer to my
polite, but scarcely warm, inquiries after their health, reply that
they are "ter-rific"—which they are.' Ponking was asked by
Louise the other afternoon whether he was "ready for his tea;" and
answered briefly, but emphatically, "Wait till I get 'old of it!"
Louise remarked afterwards that he was " so quick." I doubt
very much whether she would say as much of me. I am as fond
of her as ever—in some respects, fonder—but I cannot help noticing
these things—I cannot help seeing that Starmouth is not doing her
any good.
_ Afternoon : on the Sands.—Louise and Ale have been scooping a
pit. When it is dug, she says coquettishly that there is just room
for me. I decline, a little curtly perhaps—but I really am surprised
at Louise—such extremely bad style! Her Aunt, who is eating
plums hard-by, says "some people seem to think themselves too
grand for anything." I can hear Ale whispering that Louise would
not have to ask " poor old Ponk " twice.
Louise says, pouting, that she shall not ask me again. I can see
I have hurt her feelings. After all, it is possible to be too particular
—there is no harm in it—countless couples around us are making
themselves at least equally conspicuous. Somehow I never can be as
firm with Louise as I am with most people .... I ought to be
comfortable, with her head resting upon my shoulder and my arm
encircling her waist (she insists on this)—but, as a matter of fact, I
catch myself remarking how very much
Louise has caught the sun of late.
And she has developed quite a twang
within the last few days!
Ponking has just come up; he has
arranged with a photographer to take
us all, just as we are, in a group. As
Ponking and Alf consider it humorous
to be taken in the act of making hor-
rible grimaces, we promptly become
objects of general interest. I should
not like to be seen by any of the fellows
at the office just now. Coming with a Hush!
We are all posed—and a nice picture we shall make!—when, on
the outskirts of the crowd, I see a slender stately figure, which does
not seem quite to belong to Starmouth.
There is actually a sort of resemblance—but that is absurd ! She
notices the crowd, and as she pauses with a half-indifferent curiosity,
I see her full face .... It is almost too terrible to be true—but I
am under no delusion,—it is Ethel Derinq !
" Quite steady all, for one moment, please," says the photographer.
If I could only bury my head in the sand like an ostrich,—but that
would excite remark, I suppose, and, besides, there is no time I
Theatrical Noes to Queries.
Mrs. John Wood is not engaged with a sequel to East Lynne, but
with John Clatton.
Akthue Cecil was not a favourite of Queen Elizabeth ; and she
never received him at the Court in his life.
Wilson Barrett does not always make a speech after an earth-
quake.
And lastly it is not true that Mrs. James Brown-Potter was
Louise begs me to go, to see that Ale does not get into trouble— instructed in her art by Mrs. Siddons, Mrs. Jordan, Miss Ellen
which may be necessary enough, but who will see that I get into none ? I Teret, Mme. Saeah Beenhaedt, and Miss Minnie Palmer.
(j-^ KOTICE.—Rejected Communications or Contributions, whether MS., Printed Matter, Drawings, or Pictures of any description, will
in no case be returned, not even when accompanied by a Stamped and Addressed Envelope, Cover, or Wrapper. To this rule
there will be no exception.