DOI Heft:
March 2, 1889
DOI Seite / Zitierlink: https://doi.org/10.11588/diglit.17687#0107
March 2, 1889.]
PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.
97
Nobody did it.
THE DIARY OF A NOBODY.
January 21.-—I am very much concerned at Lupin having started
a pony-trap. I said, “Lupin, are you justified in this outrageous
extravagance?” Lupin replied, “Well, one must get to the City
somehow. I’ve only hired it, and
can give it up any time I like.” I
repeated my question, “Are you
justified in this extravagance ? ” He
replied, “ Look here, Guv.; excuse
my saying so, but you ’re a hit out
of date. It does not pay nowadays,
fiddling about over small things. I
don’t mean anything personal,
Guv’nor. My boss says, if I take his
tip, and stick to big things, I can make
big money!” I said I thought the
very idea of speculation most horri-
fying. Lupin said, “ It is not specu-
lation—it’s a dead cert.” I advised
him, at all events, not to continue the
pony and cart; but he replied, ‘11
made £200 in one day; now suppose
I only make £200 in a month, or put
it at £100 a month, which is ridiculously low—why, that is £1250 a
year. What’s a few pounds a week for a trap ? ” I did not pursue
the subject further, beyond saying that I should feel glad when
the Autumn came, and Lupin would be of age, and responsible for
his own debts. He answered, ‘ ‘ My dear Guv., I promise you faith-
fully that I will never speculate with what I have not got—I shall
only go on Job Cleanand’s tips, and as he is in the ‘know,’ it is
pretty safe sailing.” I felt somewhat relieved. Gowing called in
the evening, and to my surprise, informed me that, as he had made
£10 by one of Lupin’s tips, he intended asking us and the Cummings
round next Saturday. Carrie and I said we should be delighted.
January 22.—I don’t generally lose my temper with servants, but
I had to speak to Sarah rather sharply about a careless habit she has
recently contracted of shaking the table-cloth after removing the
breakfast things in a manner which causes all the crumbs to fall on
the carpet, eventually to be trodden in. Sarah answered very
rudely, “Oh, you are always complaining.” I replied, “Indeed,
I am not. I spoke to you last week about walking all over the
drawing-room carpet with a piece of yellow soap on the heel of your
boot.” She said, “ And you ’re always grumbling about your break-
fast.” I said, “No, I am not, but I feel perfectly justified in com-
plaining that I never can get a hard-boiled egg. The moment I
crack the shell it spurts all over the plate, and I have spoken to you
at least fifty times about it.” She began to cry and make a scene,
but fortunately my ’bus came by, so I had a good excuse for leaving
her. Go wing left a message in the evening that we were not to
forget next Saturday, Carrie amusingly said, “Ashe has never
asked any friends before, we are not likely to forget it.”
January 23.—I asked Lupin to try and change the hard brushes he
recently made me a present of, for some softer ones, as my hair-
dresser tells me I ought not to brush my hair too much just now.
January 24.—The new chimney-glass came home for the back
drawing-room. Carrie arranged some fans very prettily on the
top and on each side. It is an immense improvement to the room.
January 25.—We had just finished our tea, when who should
come in but Cummings, who has not been here for over three weeks.
I noticed he looked anything but well, so I said, “ Well, Cummings,
how are you ? You look a little blue.” He replied, “ Yes ; and I
feel blue, too.” I said, “Why, what’s the matter?” He said,
‘ ‘ Oh, nothing, except that I have been on my back for a couple of
weeks; that’s all. At one time my doctor nearly gave me up,
yet not a soul has come near me. No one has even taken the trouble
to inquire whether I was alive or dead.” I said, ‘ ‘ This is the first I have
heard of it. I have passed your house several nights, and presumed
you had company, as the rooms were so brilliantly lighted.” Cum-
mings replied, “ No. The only company I have had was my wife,
the doctor, and the landlady ; the last-named having turned out a
perfect trump. I wonder you did not see it in the paper. I know it
was mentioned in the Bicycle NewsI thought to cheer him up,
and said,—“Well, you are all right now ? ” He replied,—“ That’s
not the question. The question is, whether an illness does not
enable you to discover who are your true friends.” I said such an
observation was unworthy of him. To make matters worse, in came
Gowing, who gave Cummings a violent slap on the back, and said,
“Holloh! Have you seen a Ghost? You looked scared to death,
like Irving in Macbeth.” I said, “Gently, Gowing—the poor
fellow has been very ill.” Gowing roared with laughter, and said,
“Yes, and you look it too,” Cummings quietly said, “Yes, and I
feel it too—not that I suppose you care.” An awkward silence fol-
lowed, Gowing said, “Never mind, Cummings. You and the
Missis come round to my place to-morrow, and it will cheer you up
a bit, for we ’ll open a bottle of wine.”
January 26. An extraordinary thing happened. Carrie and I
went round to Gowing’s, as arranged, at half-past seven. We
knocked and rang several times without getting an answer. At last
the latch was drawn and the door opened a little way, the chain still
being up. A man in shirt-sleeves put his head through and said,
“Who is it? What do you want?” I said, “Mr. Gowing. He
is expecting us.” The man said (as well as I could hear, owing to
the yapping of a little doe-), “I don’t think he is. Mr. Gowing is
not at home.” I said, “ He will be in directly.” At this moment
Cummings and his wife arrived. Cummings was very lame and
leaning on a stick, but got up the steps and asked what the matter
was. The man said, “Mr. Gowing said nothing about expecting
anyone. All he said was he had just received an invitation to
Croydon, and he should not be back till Monday evening. He took
his bag with him.” I was too indignant to say anything. Cummings
looked white with rage, and as he descended the steps, and struck his
stick violently on the ground and said, “ Scoundrel! ”
A WEATHER WAIL.
“ I wonder whether, bless your eyes,
Can any man be weather-wise! ”—Songs ef a Sangarorum.
\ it !
What is the use of forecasts and
barometers ?
Silly the study of air and of sea.
Useless are weather-cocks, warn-
ings, thermometers,
Storm-drums and signals mean
nothing to me!
Hopeless the conning of clouds and
hygrometers,
No one can tell what the weather
will be!
Captious the climate, 1
think you’ll agree,
No one can tell what the
weather will be !
Weather-wise prophets, precise
and emphatical,
Heed not their prating at night
or at morn!
Do not take notice of twinges
rheumatical,
Treat all eatarrhical symptoms
with scorn;
Disregard dartings in regions he-
patical.
Mind not the shoot of your
favourite corn!
Thoughtless the Clerk of
the Weather is he—-
No one can tell what the
weather will be !
Lured by the sunshine, so bright
and magnetical,
How you will grieve if your
Gamp you’ve forgot!
If in fur garments you ’re peripa-
tetical,
Doubtless you’ll find that the
day will be hot:
Should you wear clothes that are
thin and assthetical,
Then the Nor’Easter will blow
—will it not ? [as she,
Coy as a woman, and fickle
No one can tell what the
weather will be !
The Water-Companies’ Yiew.—An eye to the Main Chance.
VOL. XCVI.
K
PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.
97
Nobody did it.
THE DIARY OF A NOBODY.
January 21.-—I am very much concerned at Lupin having started
a pony-trap. I said, “Lupin, are you justified in this outrageous
extravagance?” Lupin replied, “Well, one must get to the City
somehow. I’ve only hired it, and
can give it up any time I like.” I
repeated my question, “Are you
justified in this extravagance ? ” He
replied, “ Look here, Guv.; excuse
my saying so, but you ’re a hit out
of date. It does not pay nowadays,
fiddling about over small things. I
don’t mean anything personal,
Guv’nor. My boss says, if I take his
tip, and stick to big things, I can make
big money!” I said I thought the
very idea of speculation most horri-
fying. Lupin said, “ It is not specu-
lation—it’s a dead cert.” I advised
him, at all events, not to continue the
pony and cart; but he replied, ‘11
made £200 in one day; now suppose
I only make £200 in a month, or put
it at £100 a month, which is ridiculously low—why, that is £1250 a
year. What’s a few pounds a week for a trap ? ” I did not pursue
the subject further, beyond saying that I should feel glad when
the Autumn came, and Lupin would be of age, and responsible for
his own debts. He answered, ‘ ‘ My dear Guv., I promise you faith-
fully that I will never speculate with what I have not got—I shall
only go on Job Cleanand’s tips, and as he is in the ‘know,’ it is
pretty safe sailing.” I felt somewhat relieved. Gowing called in
the evening, and to my surprise, informed me that, as he had made
£10 by one of Lupin’s tips, he intended asking us and the Cummings
round next Saturday. Carrie and I said we should be delighted.
January 22.—I don’t generally lose my temper with servants, but
I had to speak to Sarah rather sharply about a careless habit she has
recently contracted of shaking the table-cloth after removing the
breakfast things in a manner which causes all the crumbs to fall on
the carpet, eventually to be trodden in. Sarah answered very
rudely, “Oh, you are always complaining.” I replied, “Indeed,
I am not. I spoke to you last week about walking all over the
drawing-room carpet with a piece of yellow soap on the heel of your
boot.” She said, “ And you ’re always grumbling about your break-
fast.” I said, “No, I am not, but I feel perfectly justified in com-
plaining that I never can get a hard-boiled egg. The moment I
crack the shell it spurts all over the plate, and I have spoken to you
at least fifty times about it.” She began to cry and make a scene,
but fortunately my ’bus came by, so I had a good excuse for leaving
her. Go wing left a message in the evening that we were not to
forget next Saturday, Carrie amusingly said, “Ashe has never
asked any friends before, we are not likely to forget it.”
January 23.—I asked Lupin to try and change the hard brushes he
recently made me a present of, for some softer ones, as my hair-
dresser tells me I ought not to brush my hair too much just now.
January 24.—The new chimney-glass came home for the back
drawing-room. Carrie arranged some fans very prettily on the
top and on each side. It is an immense improvement to the room.
January 25.—We had just finished our tea, when who should
come in but Cummings, who has not been here for over three weeks.
I noticed he looked anything but well, so I said, “ Well, Cummings,
how are you ? You look a little blue.” He replied, “ Yes ; and I
feel blue, too.” I said, “Why, what’s the matter?” He said,
‘ ‘ Oh, nothing, except that I have been on my back for a couple of
weeks; that’s all. At one time my doctor nearly gave me up,
yet not a soul has come near me. No one has even taken the trouble
to inquire whether I was alive or dead.” I said, ‘ ‘ This is the first I have
heard of it. I have passed your house several nights, and presumed
you had company, as the rooms were so brilliantly lighted.” Cum-
mings replied, “ No. The only company I have had was my wife,
the doctor, and the landlady ; the last-named having turned out a
perfect trump. I wonder you did not see it in the paper. I know it
was mentioned in the Bicycle NewsI thought to cheer him up,
and said,—“Well, you are all right now ? ” He replied,—“ That’s
not the question. The question is, whether an illness does not
enable you to discover who are your true friends.” I said such an
observation was unworthy of him. To make matters worse, in came
Gowing, who gave Cummings a violent slap on the back, and said,
“Holloh! Have you seen a Ghost? You looked scared to death,
like Irving in Macbeth.” I said, “Gently, Gowing—the poor
fellow has been very ill.” Gowing roared with laughter, and said,
“Yes, and you look it too,” Cummings quietly said, “Yes, and I
feel it too—not that I suppose you care.” An awkward silence fol-
lowed, Gowing said, “Never mind, Cummings. You and the
Missis come round to my place to-morrow, and it will cheer you up
a bit, for we ’ll open a bottle of wine.”
January 26. An extraordinary thing happened. Carrie and I
went round to Gowing’s, as arranged, at half-past seven. We
knocked and rang several times without getting an answer. At last
the latch was drawn and the door opened a little way, the chain still
being up. A man in shirt-sleeves put his head through and said,
“Who is it? What do you want?” I said, “Mr. Gowing. He
is expecting us.” The man said (as well as I could hear, owing to
the yapping of a little doe-), “I don’t think he is. Mr. Gowing is
not at home.” I said, “ He will be in directly.” At this moment
Cummings and his wife arrived. Cummings was very lame and
leaning on a stick, but got up the steps and asked what the matter
was. The man said, “Mr. Gowing said nothing about expecting
anyone. All he said was he had just received an invitation to
Croydon, and he should not be back till Monday evening. He took
his bag with him.” I was too indignant to say anything. Cummings
looked white with rage, and as he descended the steps, and struck his
stick violently on the ground and said, “ Scoundrel! ”
A WEATHER WAIL.
“ I wonder whether, bless your eyes,
Can any man be weather-wise! ”—Songs ef a Sangarorum.
\ it !
What is the use of forecasts and
barometers ?
Silly the study of air and of sea.
Useless are weather-cocks, warn-
ings, thermometers,
Storm-drums and signals mean
nothing to me!
Hopeless the conning of clouds and
hygrometers,
No one can tell what the weather
will be!
Captious the climate, 1
think you’ll agree,
No one can tell what the
weather will be !
Weather-wise prophets, precise
and emphatical,
Heed not their prating at night
or at morn!
Do not take notice of twinges
rheumatical,
Treat all eatarrhical symptoms
with scorn;
Disregard dartings in regions he-
patical.
Mind not the shoot of your
favourite corn!
Thoughtless the Clerk of
the Weather is he—-
No one can tell what the
weather will be !
Lured by the sunshine, so bright
and magnetical,
How you will grieve if your
Gamp you’ve forgot!
If in fur garments you ’re peripa-
tetical,
Doubtless you’ll find that the
day will be hot:
Should you wear clothes that are
thin and assthetical,
Then the Nor’Easter will blow
—will it not ? [as she,
Coy as a woman, and fickle
No one can tell what the
weather will be !
The Water-Companies’ Yiew.—An eye to the Main Chance.
VOL. XCVI.
K