Punch (99.1890)

U PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. [August 2, 1890.

MRS. HIGHFLYER'S DANCE. 2 A.M.

1 afl ! it 'g all very well for the footmen,—and it 'a all very well for the gals,—but it's precious 'ard on us

Coachmen and the tore Mothers ! "

" OUR TURN NOW ! "

Or, Mr. Bull and the Wandering Minstrels.

Mr. Bull. Confound these Wandering Min-
strels ! Oh, the bore of them !
Only just settled with yon tow-hair'd
fellow [of them,

Turning the corner, and behold two more
Prepared to grind and tootle, blow and
bellow,

Until I tip them in a liberal fashion.
Upon my word, their noise is something
shocking;
Enough to put a person in a passion.
Menaces slighting and remonstrance
mocking,

They stand and twangle, tootle, grind,

and gurgle
Their horrible cacophony. Find it funny,
Ye grinners ? Might as well my mansion

burgle,

As "row " me forcibly out of my money.
The Teuton tootler, being tipped, is
"sloping," [cent.
Patting his pocket with a smile compla-
The Gallic blower, for like treatment
hoping, [adjacent.
Grins at the Portuguese who grinds
What a charivari.' Oh, I must stop it!

I say, you rascal with the hurdy-gurdy,
More than enough of that vile shindy ;
drop it! [Yjrdi,
And you, my brazen, blatant, would-be
Hush that confounded horn, er so and
blow it [tumble
At—Jericho. My walls you will not
By windy shindy, and you ought to know it.

Horn-Player. Bah! ze old hombogs! He
sail growl and grumble
But he vill pay ven it come to ze pinches ;
I know him, ze cantankerous vieux
chappie.

Ze German yonder, vy he take ze inches,
And get ze Hel-igoland! Now he quite
happy.

I do ze same. Pom ! Pom ! Zat blast
vos thunder! [features.
How he do tear his hair and tvist his

He svear, but he vill yat you call " knock
under."

Mr. Ball. I say, you Portugee, smallest of
creatures, [hook it!

And noisiest for your size, shut up, and
Hurdy-gurdy. Gr-r-r-r! Or-r-r-r! Zey
say zat ze old fool is skveezable,
Melting in his own heat. Py gar, he look it.

Ze Teuton yonder find zat he vas teaseable
Oat of ze "tip," ze bigpour-boire. He got
him, [too P

He go, he grin! Sail I not take ze hint
I get him too—J go. But I no let him
Drive me away, as be did Serpa Pinto.
Gr-r-r-r.' Gr-r-r-r! I see zat he no like
ze grinding. [money;

Soo mooch ze bettare! He sail give mooch
Ze pour-boire, someveres, he sail soon be
finding,

If I keep on. Zeese Eenglish are so funny.
Tulio. Ze money for ze Minstrels! Kvick!
So sail you
Get rid of us. Like to ze artful gloser
In Mistare Seyjioub's sketch, ve " know ze
value

Of peace and kvietness." Pay us, ve go,
Sir! {.Left tootling.

IN THE KNOW.

{By Mr. Punch's Own Prophet.)

Am I going to Goodwood ? I answer that
question by another. Is it likely that a
race-meeting of any pretensions can possibly
do without one whom even his enemies
acknowledge to be the only accurate and
high-minded sporting writer in the world '<
Those who care (and I devoutly hope that
Mr. J., whose brains equal those of a newly-
born tadpole, will not be amongst the number)
ean see me at any moment on pronouncing
the password, "mealy-mouth," in my old
place, close to the space devoted to Royalty.
Yes, I Bhall be there. In the meantime, I
propose to treat of the horses as only I can
treat of them. I have nothing to say against
Pioneer, except that the name promises very
well for one who means to lead the way.
Nous verrons, as Bacine said, on a celebrated
occasion. As for The Imp, I cannot too
strongly lay it down that only blue devils
are bad for the digestion, and Galloping
Queen may gallop farther than or not so far
as Miss Ethel. A miss must be better than
a mile to win. If Theophilus were Formid-
able, or if Imogene possessed a Grecian Bend,
it might be necessary to sound Reveille in
Rotten Row, which would certainly be a
Marvel. Not being a roadster, I sometimes
like The Field.

The above information ought to be suffi-
cient to guide anybody whose brains are cal-
culated to fill an egg-cup. All others may
go to Earlswood, where they will probably
meet Mr. J.