Punch (99.1890)

October 11, 1890.] PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. 179

Mr. Tyms hired a Mount with the Staghounds, bdt quickly came to the conclusion that it was a brutal shame to chase

the poor Deer up and down those horrible Banks.

A TALE OF THE TELEPHONE.

{A Story of what may happen some day in George Street, Hanover Square.)

Theee were a few minutes unoccupied before the time appointed
for the ceremony, and so the Pew-opener thought he could not do
better than point out the many excellences of the church to the
Bridegroom.

" You see, Sir," he said, " our pulpit is occupied by the best pos-
sible talent. The Vicar takes the greatest interest in securing every
rising preacher, and thus, Sunday after Sunday, we have the most
startling orations."

The Bridegroom (slightly bored) said that if he had happened to
live in the neighbourhood, he should certainly have taken sittings.

" But living in the neighbourhood is not necessary, Sir," persisted
the Pew-opener. " Let into the sounding-board is a telephone, and
so our Vicar can supply the sermons preached here, hot and hot, to
residents in the London Postal District. Considering the quality of
the discourses, he charges a very low rate. The system has been
largely adopted. As a matter of fact the whole service, and not
only the pulpit, has been laid on to the principal Hotels and Clubs."

Bat further conversation was here cut short by the arrival of the
Bride, who, led by her brother, advanced towards the altar with an
air of confidence that charmed all beholders. This self-possession
was the outcome of the lady being—as her grey moire-antique indi-
cated—a widow. Congratulations passed round amongst the friends
and relatives, and then the bridal party was arranged in front of the
good old Vicar.

" Have you switched us on ? " said he to the Clerk.

" Yes, Sir," was the reply. " "We are now in communication with
all the principal Hotels and Clubs."

" That's right. I am always anxious that my clients shall have
their full money's-worth." And then the Vicar read with much
emphasis the exhortation to the public to declare any "just cause or
impediment" to the marriage. Naturally there was no response,
and an opening hymn was sung by the choir, which, containing some
half-dozen verses, lasted quite a quarter of _ an hour. At its conclu-
sion the Vicar; who had allowed his attention to become distracted,
instead of going on with the service, again read the exhortation.
He once more gave the names of " Harry Smith, bachelor," and
" Amy Jones, widow." I

"If anyone knows any just cause or impediment," he continued.

" Stop; I do! " interrupted a gentleman in a dressing-gown, who
had hurriedly entered the Church. " I heard you about a quarter
of an hour ago, while I was breakfasting at the Shaftesbury Avenue
Hotel, ask the same question, and came here without changing my
coat. Very sorry to interrupt the ceremony, but this lady is my
wife I Well, Amy, how are you ? "

" What, Joey !" exclaimed the (now) ex-Bride, delightedly. " We
are glad to see you! We thought you were dead 1 "

Then the gentleman in the dressing-gown was heartily greeted on
all sides. He seemed to be a very popular personage.

"But where do I come in?" asked Mr. Brown, the ex-Bride-
groom, who had, during this scene, shown signs of embarrassment.

" 0 Joey, I quite forgot to introduce you to Harry," said the
ex-Bride. " You must know one another. I was going to marry
him when you, darling, turned up just in the nick of time, like a
dear good old boy!"

" Delighted to make your acquaintance, Sir, said Mr. Jones,
shaking Mr. Brown warmlv by the hand. "And now I must go
back to finish my breakfast!"

" Yes, with me," said the ex-Bride. " You must sit, darling, in
the seat intended for poor Harry. I know you won't mind, Harry
(or, perhaps, I ought to call you Mr. Brown now ?), as I have so
much to say to dear Joey. And you can have your breakfast at a
side-table—now won't you, just to please me ? You always are so
kind and considerate! "

And, as the wedding-party left the Church, the Clerk hastily
unswitched the electric communication.

" Be quiet, Sir! " he whispered, sternly, to Mr. Brown, who had
been talking to himself. "If our clients heard you, we should be
ruined! We guarantee that our telephonic supply shall be perfectly
free from bad language! "

Prophet and Loss.—Good Mussulmen, so it is said, object to a
play entitled Mahomet being produced in London. The objection
was successful in Paris. _ London Managers (except, perhaps, Sheriff
Druriolanus, who revived Le Prophete this season) will be on the
side of the objectors, as they would rather have to do with a genuine
profit than a fictitious one. Perhaps the non-production of Mahomet
may be a loss to Literature and the Drama.