Punch: Punch (100.1891)

June 20, 1891.] PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. 297

THE MODERN BRIGAND.

{Frag-rnent from the Adventures of a Ransomed Prisoner.)

I must conf esa I was agreeably surprised at the treat-
ment to which I was subjected by my capturers. Instead
of being loaded with chains and confined in a cell beneath
the castle's moat, I was given perfect liberty, and had
quite a pleasant suite of rooms. I should scarcely have
known that I was in durance had not one of the less
refined of the brigands shown me a revolver, and play-
fully informed me that its contents were intended for me
if I attempted to escape. The Chief was absolutely
charming. He treated me in the most courteous manner,
and ended his first interview with me by requesting "the
honour of my company at dinner."

" You need not dress! " he observed, " although I like
to put on a tail-coat myself. But I know that you have
had some difficulty with my people about your luggage,
and so I shall be only too delighted to excuse grande
tenue."

" The demand for 'Buses is immensely stimulated by their presence, and when they are The " difficulty " to which my host referred was the
no longer there, the people who thought them indispensable get on very well indeed without seizing of my portmanteau by the gang of thieves of
them . . . Under the influence of penny fares, Londoners are rapidly forgetting how to
walk."— The Times.

SHORT-LIVED PLEASURE.

Portrait of a Literary Friend, who, living in a Main Thoroughfare,
was an ardent supporter of the 'bus strike, subscribed to its funds,

and hoped it might long continue. He sats he hasn't had such a quiet

Time with his Books for Years. But alas ! since last Sunday he has
not smiled again.

MRS. GINGHAM ON THE GREAT 'BUS QUESTION.

LE PRINCE S'AMUSE.
An Apologetic Idyl.

My life is held to be a round of Pleasures ;
All I can say is, they who thus would rate it,
For life's delights have most peculiar measures :
For though in plainest English they don't state it,
'Tis clear "no recreation" meets their views,
Or why that sneering cry, " Le Prince s''amuse ? "

Or do they think a Prince, without repining,
Foundation-stones unceasingly is laying,
Rewarded with a glut of public dining,
The pangs of hunger ever to be staying,
Is recreation such as he would choose ?
If so—I understand " Le Prince s''amuse /"

But how a world that notes his daily doings,
The everlasting round of weary function,—
The health-returnings, speeches, interviewings.
Can grudge him some relief, without compunction,
Seems quite to me " another pair of shoes ! "
Dyspeptic is that cry," Le Prince s'amuse ! "

Ah I it's all very fine, my good Sir, whosomever you are as writes such,
But of decent poor folk and their needs it is plain as you do not know much.
Which I ain't quite so young as I was, nor as light, nor as smart on my feet,
And you may not know quite what it is to be out late o' night and dead beat,
Out Islington way, arter ten, with a bundle, a child, and a cage,
As canaries is skeery at night, and a seven mile walk, at my age,
All along of no 'Bus to be had, love or money, and cabs that there dear,
And a stitch in my side and short breath, ain't as nice as you fancy,—no fear!
Likeways look at my John every morning, ah ! rain, hail or shine, up to town,
"With no trams running handy, and corns ! As I sez to my friend Mrs. Brown,
Bless the 'Buses, I sez, they 're a boon to poor souls, as must travel at times,
And we can't all keep kerridges neither, was luck ! Penny Fares ain't no crimes,
If you arsk me, as did ought to know. Which my feelings I own it does rouge
To hear big-wigs a-sneering at 'Buses. There may be a bit of a scrouge,
And the smell of damp straw mixed with pep'mint ain't nice to a dalicet nose,
Likeways neat " Oh be Joyful's " a thing as with orange and snuff hardly goes.
But we ain't all rekerky nor rich, we can't all afford sixpence a mile,
And when we are old, late, and tired, or it's wet, we can't think about style.
The 'Bus is the poor body's kerridge, young feller—and as for your talk
About not never missing a lift, or forgetting—dear sakes I—how to walk,
And the nice quiet streets and all that; why it's clear you ain't been a poor clerk
With a precious small'' screw," in wet weather. Ah ! you wouldn't find it no lark
With thin boots and a 'ard 'acking cough, and three mile every day to and thro',
Or a puffy old woman like me, out at Witsuntide wisiting Joe,
(My young son in the greengrocer line); or a governess, peaky and pale,
As has just overslep herself slightly, and can't git by cab or by rail.
" Ugly lumbering wehicles ? " Ah ! and we 're ugly and 'umbering too,
A lot of us poor Penny 'Bus fares, as isn't high-born or true-blue.
But the 'Bus is our help. Wery like some do ride as had. far better walk,
Whether tip-toppy swells or poor shep-girls. But all that is trumpery talk.
What I arsk is, why shouldn'tthe 'Buses be kept a bit reglar, like Cabs,
In the matter of fares and of distances ? Oh, a old woman it crabs
To hear of Perprietors pinching pore fellers as drive or conduck,
While the "Pirates" play up merry mag with the poor helpless fare, as gets
_ stuck

Betwixt Dividend-grinders and Strikers ? It ought to be altered, Jeay.
Whilst they talk of what 'Bus-folk Bhould earn, they forget the pore Publick—
who pay !

which he was the acknowledged head. I suggested that
I might possibly recover some of its contents.

" I am afraid not," returned the Chieftain. " You see
my people are very methodical, and by this time I fear all
the goods will have been sold. The motto of the Club is
' small profits and quick returns.' We find no difficulty
in trading. As we carry on business on the most econo-
mical principles, we can quote prices even cheaper than the
Stores."

And this I found to be the case. Although the brigands
were very civil to me, I was unable to trace any of my
property. However, as my host in the kindest manner
had allowed me to dispense with ceremony, I ventured
to appear at dinner-time in my ordinary tourist's dress.

" I am delighted to see you," said the Chief, speaking
English for the first time, '' as you are now my guest, I
must confess that we are fellow countrymen."

'' Indeed I " I replied, considerably astonished. " If you
are really of British nationality, how is it that I find you
a professional thief ? "

" You are mistaken," returned the Chief. " I merely
belong to a society for the redistribution of capital. You
know we are all balloted for, and I was myself afraid
that 1 might get pilled."

" Indeed! " I exclaimed, in a tone of surprise. " Surely
your accomplishments—for I noticed, on my arrival, that
you were a first- rate hand at lawn tennis, and played the
flute—would have secured your admission ? "

" Well," he returned with a smile, " I fancy they
helped me with the Committee. But unhappily my ante-
cedents were bad—I had made a fortune on the London
Stock Exchange, and my books were scarcely as satis-
factory as our bandit auditors could have desired them
to be. However they took a kindly view of the case,
and allowed me to pass through. But pardon me, I see
your ransom has arrived. I am afraid I must say good
bye. A pleasant journey."

And shaking me warmly by the hand, he helped me
into the conveyance that was to take me back to home
and freedom. I have never seen him since.