Punch (95.1888)

December 1, 1888.] PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.

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THE OTHER WAY ABOUT

Irate Passenger (as Train is moving off). "Why the - didn't you put my Luggage in as I told you-

Porier. " E—h, Man ! yeu Baggage es na sic a Fule as yersel. Ye 'he i' the Weang Tkain !"

HOW TO WRITE A CHRISTMAS STORY.

(By One who has Done It.)

The room was full of shadows! Visions of his past life rose
before him! He saw his boyhood, which, as he glanced at the MS.
on his desk, gave such an excellent scope for illustration. Could he
not picture to himself the arrival of the old-fashioned mail-coach in
the Midlands; and had not this been actually done by one of the
artistic staff attached to the periodical for which he was working ?
Was not the proof actually before him ? Did he not see the cheery
coachman, and the red-coated guard ? And beside this picture was
there not lying a weird representation of some dark arches ?

"What does it mean?" he murmured for the third time as he
placed the drawing well under the lamp that was standing on his
writing-table—" what does it mean ? "

He was a desperate man, and he felt that something must be done
with it. It could not be wasted! No, it could not be wasted ! It
had come to him from across the sea—from an artist who had sought
relief from pressing pecuniary embarrassment in the soft air of
Spain. But it had to be introduced—it had to be written in.

" Ah!" he exclaimed at length, "I have it. This is a drawing
of the Adelphi Arches. Mary must dream that therein she meets
the slimy villain of my simple tale, Dr. Uttercadson, he of the
too portly presence and the flowing moustache. The Adelphi Arches
will be just the spot to meet him face to face and denounce him."
And the plodding author continued his weary toil, sending away slip
after slip of paper upwards. And now and again would he glance
at a pile of engravings and smile sadly as one by one he knocked
them off.

(| Come! " he said, speaking to himself—it was a favourite habit,
I am doing famously. I have worked in ' the Wreck off Boulogne
Harbour,' and 'the Grand Stand at Sandown.' For a moment a
duel to the death between two gentlemen in the costume of
Chables the Second perplexed me—I confess it—perplexed me!
But I have surmounted the difficulty by bringing it in under the
title_ of ' the verdict is hotly discussed after the Sal Masque,' and
writing up to it! But I must not pause ! What have we here ? A

Child playing with a White Vulture and the Emperor of Germany
opening in state the Reichstag. Well, I must introduce both subjects
into my weird tale—and what is this?—two men descending in a
balloon at midnight in a forest ? Hem! What shall I do ? Ah, I
have it! I can write up to that block, so that it may bear the appro-
priate label, ' The Lunacy Commissioners visit the grounds of
Colney Hatch by Moonlight unexpectedly.' Still, I must confess
that the subjects of the pictures handed out to me, although varied,
are certainly confusing. I wish my task were done ! "

And again he returned to his pen, ink, and paper. The room grew
darker and darker, and nought was heard save the constant scratching
of the pen and the occasional footsteps of the lad who carried away
the sheets of paper. It grew darker and darker, and gloomier and
gloomier. Suddenly there was the sound of a deep grave voice.

"Pause! Write no more ! "

The Author looked up angrily, and then nearly swooned with
terror; his hair stood on end, and his white lips trembled. There
was a figure in white standing before him! A figure, a gruesome
figure, with bare arms and dishevelled locks.

But the Author was a man of business, and, although every nerve
in his body was quivering with emotion, he confronted the spectre,
and gasped out, " ' Write no more '! Why not ? "

Then came the answer. It sounded like the knell of doom! The
Author knew it was all over, and that his occupation was gone—if
not for ever, for a long, long year !

'1 Why must you write no more ? " said the spectral figure, expla-
natorily; "because we are full up; and because the rest of the space
in the number will be required for advertisements ! "

And trying to read over what he had already written, the Author
fell into a deep, deep slumber !

They're beginning to " manage these things better in France."
Edict of Prefect pi Police banishing sandwichmen and advertising
vans from principal Boulevards, has just been issued. Fancy cos-
tumes for sandwichmen prohibited! We should like to see Mural
Decorative Art taxed heavily, and to put up murderous picture-
posters made an indictable offence.