Punch: Punch (100.1891)

June 13, 1891.]

281

" BEROOFEN!"

"Well," quoth the Baron he Book-Wobms, as he sat down to
dinner on a Friday, a week ago, "I must say I have never, never
been better in my life! Why, dear me, it is quite a year Bince 1
was ill! "

" Beroofen ! " exclaimed an Italian Countess of dazzling beauty,
at the same time rapping the table with one of the bejewelled forks
which form part of the Baron's second-best dinner-service.

" Why ' Beroofen' ? " aBked the Baron.

"It is a spell against the consequences of boasting," the lady
explained. " My mother was a bit of a magician."

"And you, my dear Countess, are bewitching. Your health!"

And, pledging her, the Baron drank off a bumper of Pommery '80

tres sec, and laughed joyously at the notion of his rapping the table

-all "table-rapping" being a past superstition, or supperstition

when not at dinner,—and murmuring, " Beroofen ! " And so he

didn't do it. " Beroofen " never passed his lips: the champagne did;

but not " Beroofen."

* * * * * *

"Ugh!—I feel so shivery-and-livery. Ugh!—so chilly. Here!
Send for Dr. Robson Roostem Pasha !" cried the Baron, clapping

his hands, and a thousand
ebon slaves bounded off to
execute his commands.
Had they not done so,
they themselves might
have suffered the fate in-
tended for the commands,
and have themselves been

rapidly executed.

# # * #

" You've got 'em,"
quoth Dr. Robson Roostem
Pasha.

"Not ' again' ! " cried
the Baron, surprised, never
having had 'em before.

" No : the phenomena"
said the Eminent Medico.

"Have I?" murmured
the Baron, and sank down
into his uneasy chair. It
was an awful thing to have
the Phenomena. It might
have been the measles in
Greek. Anything but
that! Anything but that!
But Dr. Roostem explained
f^^^^ar^^^^^^ wis '"''phenomena" is not

Greek for measles, though
perhaps Phenomenon might be Greek for "one measle;" but this
would be singular, very singular.

"I must tap you," continued the friend-in-need. " No—no—
don't be alarmed. When I say ' tap,' I mean sound you."

Then he began the woodpecking business. In the character of
Dr. Woodpecker he tapped at the hollow oak chest, sounded the
Baron's heart of oak, pronounced him true to the core, whacked him,
smacked him, insisted upon his calling out " Ninety-nine," in various
tones, so that it sounded like a duet to the old words, without much

of the tune—

Baron will exclaim with Hamlet, "Speak! I'll go no further!"

Yet, 'tis marvellous clever and entertaining withal.

**»»**

Perhaps there will be a vacation after this attack of Miss

Influenza on the unfortunate Baron. Alas ! for the present, it is La

Donna Influenza who is " One of Our Conquerors ! "

#**»»*

This morning, after a fortnight of it, the Baron was about to
announce that he was better, but at the outset he paused, corrected
himself, and, tapping the breakfast-table with his fork, he exclaimed,
"Beroofen."'

Moral.—Be quite sure you 're out of the wood, though maybe
you were never in it, and even then don't congratulate yourself.
" Mumm " '8 the word (so's "Pommery " also by the way, not for-
getting " Greno," all sueh being excellent Fizzic for the Epidemic), as
to your state of health, and don't forget the charm-" Beroofen ! "

" I'm ninety-nine,
1 'm ninety-nine ! "

the remainder of which the Baron had never heard, even in his
earliest childhood.

So it was a quarter of an hour of inspiration, musical and poetic ;
and, at its expiration, Dr. Mare Tablet, as the Baron declared
he must henceforth be called, announced that there was nothing for
it but to make the Baron a close prisoner in his own castle, where he
would have to live up to the mark, as if he were to be shown, a few
months hence, at a prize cattle-show, among other Barons of Beef.

" Champagne Charley is your name, so is Turtle soup, so is succu
lent food, and plenty of it. Generally provision the fortress, and
withstand the assaults of the enemy. If a bacillus creeps in through
a loophole, knock him on the head with the best champagne at hand,
and, if you're not worse in a day or two, you '11 be better in a week I
Au revoir ! " Exit Dr. Mabk Tablet.

******

And so the Baron remained within, and sent for his books, anc
above all One of Our Conquerors, by "The Geo. M.," who is the
Cabltle of Novelists. The first volume was missing. In a few days
it had returned. The first chapters, however, seemed still wan-
dering. But the Baron was better, and could follow them slowly,
though not without effort, wondering whither he was being led. When
he arrives at Chapter TIL, unless the novelist ceases to meander, the

SUMMER!

{Sketched, in metrical spasms, by a Sufferer therefrom.)

Cramped cricket, Eaves dropping,

Arctic squall; _ Red noses ;

Drenched wicket,

Soaked ball;
Park a puddle.
Row a slough;

Damp days,

Chill nights ;
Morning haze,

Evening blights;
Grey skies,

Sodden earth;
Butterflies

Weak at birth;
Gloom over,

Grime under;
Soaked clover,

Hail, thunder;
Wind, wet,

Squelch, squash ;
Gingham yet,

Mackintosh ;
Lawn 8 afloat,
Paths dirt;
Top-coat,

Flannel shirt;
Lilacs drenched,

Laburnums p>allid;
Spirits quenched,
Souls squalid;
Tennis "off,"
Icy breeze;
Croak, cough,
Wheeze, sneeze;

Muck, muddle,

Slush, snow;
Hay-fever

(No hay!)
Spoilt beaver,

Shoes asplay ;
Lilies flopping,

Washed-out roses

Pools, splashes,

Spouts, spirts ;
Swollen sashes.

Gutters, squirts ;
Limp curls,

Splashed hose;
Pretty girls,

Damp shows ;
Piled grates,

Cold shivers;
Aching pates,

Sluggish livers;
Morn cruel,

Eve a biter;
Hot gruel,

Sweet nitre ;
Voice a creaky

Cracked cadenza,
Face "peaky,"
Influenza!!!
Gloom growing,

Glum, glummer
Noses [and nothing
else) blow -
ing,—
That'« Summer !

OPERATIC NOTES.

We'be quite the gay Frenchmen now at the Italian Opera : Faust
in French, Manon in French. Borneo et Juliette in French, Le
Prophete in French ; American singers, and Dutch singers—for if Mr.
Van Dtck isn't as much a Double Dutchman as Vandebdecken or
any other Van, except Piceeobd & Co.'s, then am I myself a Dutch
native—and, by the way, I'm always equal to a dozen of 'em any
time during the right and proper season. Not for many a long day
and night has there been a better show at Covent Garden. Miss
Eames, the Brothers De Reszee, Van Dsce, Melba ; the two
Ravogli girls, specially Giulia, as tuneful contralto; Matjbel, the
cultured artist; Sibtl Sandebson, the simple child of Nature:
Agnes Janson, with more sauce Hollandaise ; marvellous Mbavina
for the French Queen, "with a song;" and, above all, Madame
Albani, in tip-top voice, acting and singing better than ever.

Tuesday.— June 2 was a Diamond Night in front. HR.H.'s
present: Diamond Queens and Princesses of Society all on view.
Dbtjbiolantj8, in his glory, beams on everyone.

Wednesday.—State Ball counter-attraction to Opera. Won't do to
go in rumpled silks and satins, and drooping feathers, like hens after
the rain, to a Court Ball. So Opera suffers ; those present trying to
look as if they had been invited to State Ball, but didn't care about
going, or couldn't go, on account of recent family affliction. How-
ever, as dbtjbiolanu8 is reported to have appeared in full fig at
State Ball, he couldn't expect others less interested in the perform-
ance than himself to cut the Court and come to the Opera. To-night,
M. Plancon as Mephistopheles, a thinner demon than Brother
Ned de Reszke, but un bon diable tout de meme.

Friday Night.—Notable for excellent performance of Rigoleti'i, or
The Little Duke and The Big Duck respectively personified by
Signor Ravellt and Giulia Ravogli. Three "R"s in such a
combination. Qoite " _R's Poetica." Beg pardon.

"Tag" on the week,—if our friends in front are pleased as they
appear to be, then Dbubiolantjs and Council—not the County, but
the Covent Garden Council—are satisfied. Curtain.