Punch (99.1890)

September 13, 1890.] PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.

131

collapse of corner men."

{As understood by Our Christy Minstrel Artist in Black and While.)
[Mr.-was a prominent operator on the Market, in connection with an attempted great " Cotton Corner." .... The Corner ended in a collapse.]

OUR BOOKING-OFFICE.

In consequence of the taking in or taking out of Nobodies' luggage,
the train had been considerably delayed, and this delay had been
protracted by the thirsty condition of the panting and enfeebled
engine. Stopping to_ water the horses in the olden days took much
less time, I should imagine, than stopping to supply the engine
with water in our own day. Be this as it may, the stoppages had
already been considerable, and the Baron was ruminating on the
best method of passing his valuable time for the next two hours,
when it occurred to him that in his bag he had been carrying about
for some time past three books, in the hope that there might occur
some opportunity, of which the Baron could avail himself, to peruse
these works, and remark upon them for the benefit of the select
reading public. He took up the first, read a few sketches of Our
Churchwardens, but failing to appreciate the subject, returned it to
the bag, and went in for Monsignor. Perhaps the weak state fof
health ir^ which our engine found itself, had not been improved by
the additional weight imposed on it, owing to having to carry Mon-
signor. " Uncommonly heavy," said the Baron, when he arrived
at the hundredth page; "I will keep it in reserve for my lighter
and gayer moments, when timely repression may be necessary."
So saying, he restored this to the same receptacle, and made another
dip in the lucky bag. This time he brought to the surface The Case
of George Candlemas, by Geobge Sims. Very nearly giving it up
was the Baron, on account of its title, so suggestive of the usual vein
of shilling shockers, and very glad is he that he did not do so, as
for the next hour and a quarter not only was the Baron really
interested, but highly amused, and it would have done the heart of
Geobge Sims, of Horrible London and other emotional tales, good to
have seen the Baron chuckling over this capital short story, which
is as ingenious as it is genuinely droll. It belongs to the same genus
as the Danvers Jewels, though, in this latter, the idea of the character
of the narrator is more humorously conceived than is Mr. Sims's
Baronet who acts as an amateur detective. The Baron highly
recommends this story, as he also does a short tale in Blackwood, for
this month, entitled, A Physiologists Wife, by A. Conan Doyle.

The Baron's attention has been turned to five little volumes of
Love Tales, English, Irish, Scotch, American, and German. They
form a companion set to Weird Tales, published also by Paieeson
& Co., and a pocketable size, most useful for travellers.

A propos of Travellers, why does not some English firm bring out
a series of Guide-books, of the size, and written in the style of the
Guides Conty, which, for travelling in France, are far and away the
best Guide-books I know. The Guides Joanne are of course good,
steady, trustworthy Guides, but they don't attract the traveller's
attention to out-of-the-way places, and to the " things to do," in the
same pleasant way as do the writers in the Guides Conty. Where

to go, when to go, how to go, how to make the most of a short visit,
what to ask for, what to look for, what to take, and what to avoid,
these are details for which the Guides Conty go in. They might be
better, perhaps, in the way of maps, but this is a fault of all Guides.
Wishing, when at Havre, to visit Merville-sur-Mer, and the cele-
brated Corneville, with whose cloches we are all acquainted, in vain
I searched the ordinary maps, and at last found quite a microscopi-
cal place, and without the " Sur Mer," as there wasn't room for it in
a map of either the Guide Joanne or Conty, I forget which. Why
it seems to be generally ignored I don't know, but in this respect it
is a fellow-sufferer with Westgate-on-Sea, whose name is on no
sign-post that ever I've seen in the Island of Thanet, though it may
by this time figure on some recent maps. The village of " Garlinge,"
which is on the inland side of the L. C. & D. line, is to be found on
every direction-post and on every map, and the fashionable West-
gate is, so to speak, nowhere. Baeon be Book-Wobms.

P.S.—Just attempted to read Eudyabd Kipling's On Greenhow
Hill, in this month's Macmillan. No doubt very clever, and will be
greatly admired by Kiplingites, but, for me, time is too valuable
and life too short to study and appreciate it. I can't even read it:
dommage, but I cin't.

In this month's number of The Cabinet Portrait Gallery (Cassell
& Co.) there is one of the best photographs of John Mobley I ever
remember to have seen. Not easy to take :_this one is by Downey.
No mistaking a photo by Downey, and this one of John Moeley,
the Nineteenth Century St. Just, has a thoroughly downy look
about the face. Those of Lady Dudley and Sir Fbedebick Leighton
are not up to the Downey standard, specially Lady Dudley's.

In the Fortnightly Mr. Fbank Habbis has induced Mr. W. S.
Lilly to give us some personal reminiscences ' of Cardinal Newman,
together with some letters of the Cardinal's to him. Interesting, but too
brief. Oddly enough, d propos of " Reminiscences," there is in this
same Number a very amusing article by J; M. Babbie on the manu-
facturing of reminiscences. Very droll idea. "Read it," says the
Baron.

In the Contemporary Mr. Wilfbid Meynell gives an interesting
Memoir of the great Cardinal and his contemporaries, and Mr. Kud-
yaed Kipling writes a tale entitled The Enlightenment of Mr.
Padgett, M.P.—of which more when I've read it. * * * I have read
it. It isn't a story, so I was disappointed, and about as interesting
to a story-seeker as The National Congress, of which it treats, to
the majority of the Indian natives. But the dialogue is instructive
and amusing, and will enlighten many Padgetts. jj db b>.^v,

" Un Pettitt-Habeis Compliment."—Augustus Dbubiolanus
and his colleague in the authorship of the new piece at the National
Theatre are to be congratulated. As might have been anticipated
from the title, "there is money in it."