Punch (99.1890)

August 30, 1890.] PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. 101

I let her have some painting lessons—of course, I naturally thought
the drawing-master would be an elderly man—whereas, as things
turned out,-■

A Quiet Man in a Corner. I 'ope you told all this to the Police-
man, Sir ?

The C. 0. G. {flaming unexpectedly). No, Sir, I did not. I am
not in the habit—whatever you may be—of discussing my private
affairs with strangers. I consider your remark highly impertinent,
Sir. [Fumes in silence for the rest of the journey.

_ The Young Lady with the Parcel (to her friend—for the sake of
vindicating her gentility). Oh, my dear, I do feel so funny, carrying
a great brown-paper parcel, in a bus, too! Anyone would take me
for a shop-girl!

A Grim Old Lady opposite. And I only hope, my dear, you'll
never be taken for anyone less respectable.

[ Collapse of Genteel Y. L.

The Conductor. Benk, benk! [he means "Bank") 'Oborn, benk!
'Igher up there, Bill, can't you ?

A Dingy Man smoking, in a Van. Want to block up the ole o'
the road, eh ? That's right I

The Conductor (roused to personality). Go 'ome, Dirty Dice !
syme old soign, I see,—"Monkey an'Pipe!" (To Coachman of
smart brougham which is pressing rather closely behind.) I say,
old man, don't you race after my bus like this—you'll only tire
your 'orse, [The Coachman affects not to have heard.

The Conductor (addressing the brougham horse, whose head is
almost through the door of the omnibus). 'Ere, 'ang it all!—step
insoide, if yer want to!

[Brougham falls to rear—triumph of Conductor as Scene closes.

IN THE KNOW.

(By Mr. Punch's Own Prophet.)

Readees of this journal will be surprised to learn that I am
penning these lines from Blancheville, which as everybody, except
the chief of the chowder-heads, knows is
the most important town of one of the
principal departments of France. Nothing
but an overwhelming sense of what is due
* to myself, to my readers, and to my coun-
ts- try, would have dragged me from the
3}f Metropolis at this season of the year. But
a distinction was offered to me, a distinc-
tion so unique and so dazzling that I felt
that it would not be fair to my fellow
countrymen, of all ages, and of every
party, if I failed to take advantage of it,
and thus to present to the envious world the proud spectacle of an
Englishman honoured by the great French nation. I will narrate the
matter as briefly as is consistent with my respect for accuracy, and
with my contempt for the tapioca-brained nincompoops who snarl,
and chatter, and cackle at me in the organ of Mr. J. Last Friday I
received this telegram: - Blancheville, Friday.

The inhabitants of Blancheville, in public meeting assembled,
felicitate you on stupendous success of all your prophecies. Desiring
to honour you in the name of France, the mother of glorious heroes,
and the eldest daughter of Liberty, they have awarded to you the
Montyon prize for virtue, and have selected you as Rosier en
perpetuity de Blancheville, a new post never before held by a man.
Presentation on Sunday. Come at once.

(Signed) Caramel, Maire de Blancheville.
I started that evenine In the course of the following day I
reached Blancheville. The people, in their holiday attire, were
gathered in thousands at the railway station. M. Caramel, accom-
panied by the Prefet and the Sous-Prefet, all in their tricolor
sashes, was the first to greet me. Saluting me on both cheeks, he
called upon the world to witness that this was indeed a great day for
Blancheville. My escort, under the command of General Count
Ceoutaupot, then formed up. I mounted the gilded Car of Victory,
speoially provided for the celebration, and, amidst the plaudits of
the assembled millions, I was drawn by a specially-selected band of
Enfants de la Patrie (a sort of body-guard, composed entirely of the
French aristocracy) to the palace, which had been prepared for my
reception. At the banquet, in the Town Hall, the healths of the
Queen and of M. Cabnot were followed by a lengthy speech, in
English, from my brother Caramel (we have sworn fraternity), in
which he declared that the centuries looked down and redazed in this
joice, and that it was a delight for him to carry a toast to the illus-
trious visitor who had deigned to come "to Blancheville. On the
following day the ceremony took place. I transcribe and translate
from Le Petit Colporteur de Blancheville, the chief local journal, an
account of what took place.

" On this day, so great and glorious for our France, it is not
possible to refrain from tears of joy and satisfaction. "We have made

him Rosier en perpStuite de Blancheville, him the proudest and
most sympathetic writer who has dazzled Europe since the great
and illustrious Plume au" (a local author of repute) "departed from
us. The history of this day must be written. Let us essay to do
it as it should be done. In the early morning twelve selected
maidens, robed in muslin and lilies, sang the Tocsin de la Patrie
outside the Palace where our guest reposed. Soon afterwards he
himself appeared in flowing white garments, and showered blessings
upon their heads. He descended. He entered the four-in-hand-
teams which the Maire had, as a compliment to England, made up
with a char-a-banc of the neighbourhood. Thus he was drawn to
the Market Place, where some of our bravest veterans fired in his
honour a thundering salute. The beautiful and admirable Madame
Caeamel then advanced to him with a wreath of roses in her hand.
She crowned him with it, saying, 'Wear this for Blancheville.
Nobly hast thou earned it.' With difficulty the illustrious author
preserved his calm. A tear sparkled in his eye. He bent low, and
in a voice choked with emotion, thanked the citizens of our town.
Then mounting on a milk-white steed, and surrounded by the
young men of the district, he received from the Prefet the Prix
Montyon for virtue."

The rest is too flattering. I am hastening home. The Queen'
has been graciously pleased to permit me to wear the Prix Montyon
at Court. Can a man want more ? Yours, in aU humility,

Le Rosieb de Blancheville.

A PUFF AT WHITEHALL.

(A piece oj extravagance faintly suggestive of a Scene from " The Critic."

Lord Geoege Puit and Sir John Bull discovered attending a
rehearsal of the Naval Estimates.

Lord George. And now I pray your particular attention. Sir John,
as this is the best thing in my play—it is a spectacular effect called
the Summer Manoeuvres.

Sir John. And no doubt costly, Lord Geoege ?

Lord George. You are right, Sir John, as you will have an
opportunity of finding out—hereafter. But to the argument. It is
supposed that the British Fleet is at war with, indeed, the British
Fleet.

Sir John. A very clever idea.

Lord George. I flatter myself it is, and novel too. It is true that
occasionally the ships comprising the British Fleet have run into one
another in the past just as if they had been at war, but then they
were avowedly at peace, and now they are undoubtedly the reverse.
Do you take my meaning ?

Sir John. Well, not clearly. How do you show that the British
Fleet is at war with the British Fleet ?

Lord George. Ah, there comes in my art, and I think you will
confess I have a very pretty wit. You see I divide th<2 British Fleet
into two parts—one part represents the enemy and the other part
represents itself like the House of Commons, a most representative
body. That is clear, I hope P

Sir John. Certainly—one is the British Fleet, and the other is not
the British Fleet. But is there no bond of union P

Lord George. Most assuredly there is—you pay for both. But,
pardon me, I beg you will not further interrupt me. So, now that
we have the two Fleets face to face, or, I should say, bow to starn, we
prooeed exactly as if there were a real quarrel between them. We
spend money on coal, we spend money on pay, we spend money on
ammunition. Nay, by my life, we spend money on everything—just
as we should do if war were really deolared! That's Bimple
enough.

Sir John. I confess your "plan does seem simple.

Lord George. And there is more behind. We are not satisfied
with merely spending money—we learn a lesson as well. Come, you
must eoniess'that surprises you ?

Sir John.'Well, I admit that generally, where there is any
spending of money, it is I who learn the lesson.

Lord George. Good—distinctly good! But let us be serious.
Well, when we are carrying on a war by every means in our power,
we fancy that one Fleet is chasing the other. They both have equal
speed., and we give one Fleet twenty-four hours' Btart of the other,
and will you believe me that. although the first follows the second
as fast as may be from the beginning to the end of the manoeuvring,
they never see one another! On my life—never! They never see
the British Fleet, because it's not in sight!

Sir John. But could you not have learned all this without so great
an expenditure of money ?

Lord George. Well, no, Sir John—not at the Admiralty!

Sir John. And how do you end the farce ?

Lord George. In the usual fashion, Sir John (ignites blue fire)—in
smoke!

[The characters are lost in the fog customary to the occasion.
Curtain.