Punch: Punch (101.1891)

48

PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.

[July 25, 1891.

tion at the Bar. Engineer Prim rushed wildly in, gesticulating towards
the astonished Chair, and disappeared. A body of workmen appearing
mysteriously from depths beneath House, tumultuously crossed the
doorway, and also vanished. Presently news came that flood of
water was raging down staircase; gradually truth got at; a large
water-main had burst in Upper Committee Corridor; cracked at
startling sound of outburst upon Alpheus Cleophas's re-appearance.

" This is all very well," said Plunket. "Iam myself no enthu-
siastic admirer of Morton's Parliamentary eloquence. Still, as
First Commissioner of Works, I feel this thing must be discouraged.
Must draw the line somewhere. Can't have our water-mains bursting
with vicarious indignation because Morton would speak eight times
in Committee of Supply." Business done.—Committee of Supply.

Friday.—In Lords to-night, Stanley of Alderley, L. C. C,
gave fresh advertisement to Caldeeon's picture, " St. Elizabeth of
Hungary" Not a pleasant subject, from any point of view, artistic
or moral. Everybody but well-meaning people like Stanley of
Alderley, glad to drop it. He brings it forward at this late day ;
tries to make the Markiss responsible for whole business. The
Markiss protests that Stanley has had the advantage of him;
hasn't even seen the picture. "The only idea I have been able to
form of it," he said to delighted House, " is derived from a picture
in Punch, in which Z.eo is showing her back to the Members of the
County Council." Lords don't often indulge in hearty laughter ;
this too much for them, and Stanley of Alderley temporarily
extinguished, amid almost uproarious mirth.

Business done.—Supply in Commons.

HIT AND MISS.

[At Bisley, Miss Leale, of Guernsey, has shot with considerable success.
Miss Leale, though only nineteen years old, is a shooting member of the
National Ride Association, and has won several prizes at the meetings of
the Guernsey Ride Association.]

The Whirligig of Time ! Its latest turn see
In this phenomenon who hails from Guernsey.
We've often met, at pic-nics or at dances,
Young ladies who were good at shooting—glances!
And glances that, alas ! have often filled us
With tender feelings, if they have not killed us.
We've met fair maidens, who have found it pleasant
To tramp the moors for grouse, or shoot at pheasant;
Of some indeed who've had a go at grisly ;
But never—until now—of one at Bisley.
Yet there she is, and whilst her sisters, sitting
At home, may spend their leisure time in knitting,
She sits and shoots, nor does she very far get
From where she aims, the centre of the target.
Take off your hats to her as now we name her,—
Miss leale, of Guernsey ! Gladly we acclaim her
For Womankind (triumphant in the Schools) high
Renown henceforth will look for in the bull's-eye,
And, tired of tennis, having quite with thimble done,
Will strive for laurels at the Modern Wimbledon!

" I will do it for you in a line," I said, sharply. " Your father
lost his temper, and tried bullying the bull (no joke), and you
winked at the animal. He knew you, and stood still. The bull
went for your father—you for the bull. Drive on ! "

" Let me tell you then, how I prepared myself for the Ring by
practising on a dummy bull.—I had no difficulty in sticking pins
into it—it was quite calm. Then I tried the same game on a sheep,
and got knocked down for my pains! One of my monkey tricks!
Then 1 got acquainted with some Irish bulls, and letting them off
on my friends got several thumps on the head."

" 'No," I interrupted him, sternly, " get on with your story."

" Well, at length I met Jean at the beginning of May."

" Make it first of April," I said, severely.

"He was the Toreador out of Carmen, to put it shortly," he con
turned, not deigning to notice my interruption—" and he introduced
me to the bull-fight. Of course I had to pay my footing (a very un-
certain one) in duros, or hard cash. Then every morning I ate a chuto
(a sort of small cabbage) at my dinner—then they tried me as a capa,
to test (so they said) my capability. The chief patron was the Duke
of Medicina, who in early youth had been a doctor—hence his title
—and I shall never forget his first greeting."

"Your story! " I interrupted, sternly, finding that the old man
was once more becoming tedious.

" I returned," replied the dotard, with a senile chuckle, " that he
was wrong. His answer was beyond my meaning—he muttered
something about 'mutton and capa sauce.' I was engaged," con-
tinued the dotard, with a feeble grin, "as a capa for seventy
years certain, with an annual benefit once in four years, with a salary
of forty-two thousand a year—which in those days seemed to me to
be a small fortune."

" They are wretchedly paid in Spain," I observed.

" They are," he acquiesced. " I was paid a week in advance, and
have lived upon the proceeds ever since. And now my life was
indeed a merry one. I was free of the Ring. Now I played the
cornet in the Brassos Banderillos, and my performance pleased the
aficionados (or advertising agents) so well, that niy name was known
throughout the Peninsula."

" Well," once more I interrupted, " I suppose you met a Spanish
beauty, fell in love with her, and was cut out by a party of the name
of Jean ? "

'' However do you think of such clever things ? " asked the old man,
in a tone of extreme astonishment. " But you are right. I placed
Clemencla one day in the pal co (or part reserved for friends), and
the bull tossed me. Ah, she trampled upon me—treated me like a
mat. But I loved hey and adored myself. Hence I was called a

'Mat-Adorer.' I
repeat, the bull
tossed me, and
I did not come
down heads."
"Go on."
"I was ill,
and neglected,
but soon re-
covered suffi-
ciently to kill
sixty - six bulls

MONTI THE MATADOR.

(Originally intended for the F-rtn-ghtly R-v-w.)
Yes, I'm better, and the .Doctor tells me I've escaped once I ^J^^^S^ SgsSs^&fes^//, ing ?"

Surely you

ire exaggerat-

more. That Doctor hates you—I know it. He has saved me—to f>iWj^''\^fev5^^^ \ 7^v'-V^i^^^m "You are

tell you the story—The story I have been trying to tell to- some j ri ^PaBK^K>$^^^\ *"* -* lllw perfectly right,'*

one for thirty years." :::

I was talking to Old Monti, whose full name was Monti pi
Pieta—as a pledge of his respectability. He; was a descendant of
the Pornbrocheros del Treballos d'Oro. He was subsequently-called
Monkey—as a tribute to his character.

" I should like you to tell me," I said, " for you must know that
for vears I have seen the snows on the Lagartigo, and the moonlight
on the-"

"Stop!" he cried—"you are going to begin padding. That will
do for a magazine, not for me ! " and he snapped his fingers at me.

But I was not to be put off. He was weak—a cripple—and I gave
him the choice of listening to a personally-conducted tour in the
South of Spain, or relating his adventures.

" I will have my revenge! " he muttered. "You shall hear my
life from the beginning. You must know, then, that sixty years
ago I was bora, and-"

"Yes," I returned, interrupting him—"of poor parents. Your
father was coarse, your mother pious. You learned all you could
about bulls, which you kept from your father, and you were ultimately
engaged as a bull-fighter-——~" . ' ■ •.

"Stop, stop!" he cried. " If . you -cutv.out about a dozen pages
of my biography, at least let me explain how I saved my father'.
You must know--" ........ ....... ....

c answered,

They made an Idol of me." T^Kr 1bl.l^h-

• 1 killed sixty -

five — the sixty-sixth was only mortally wounded. And now the

people made an idol of me. I was absolutely worshipped "—

" Come to the point," I said, in a tone that showed I was not to be

trifled with.

" ISTo that was the fate of Juan. At the end of a game of toros
(which is Spanish for marbles) he said to me (in^excellent Spanish),
1 Monti, me bhoy, philaloo ! ye will shtay by me ? ' ' That will I—as
shure as me name is Ttm—T should say monti,' I responded, in choice
Castilian. The bull came up, I looked him in the eye, raised my
shillalo (a short Spanish club), and, crying 'Whist!' he cut for
partners. Juan wTas cut a deal."

" That bull was a ripper," I murmured.

"Bedad he was that, Sorr," returned the dotard, whose Spanish
became more and more Castilian every moment. " Clejienica died
the next morning. But I am remorseful—that I did not kill her
myself. And now I have had my revenge! I have told ye the

story ! I know you—your name's H-a-r-"-

He gave a gasp and died.
■ ButJ too had-my revenge, I sent the tale I had just board to the
F-rtn-ghtly R-v-w. M. F. H.

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