Punch: Punch (101.1891)

August 15, 1891.]

But the cheek on it, Charlie ! A Stone-broke ! I should like to
give him wot for,

Only Damstjbl the Dosser's a dab orf of whom t'ain't so easy to score.

But it's time that this bunkum was
bunnicked, bin fur too much on it
of late—

Us on 'Opetns's 'Ouse-boat, I tell yer,
cared nix for the ink - spiller's
" slate."

I mean doin' them Broads later on, for
free fishing and shooting, that's hat.

If I don't give them dash'd Norfolk t^^^^^i1 1 off," and vanishes. Look up something else. " Liver and bacon.

Dumplings a doing, I '11 'eat my / f^A'M^' Sot had it for years! Used to like it. On reappearance of the

old'at. W^S^:^rW^ planetary waiter, give my order. He nods and vanishes. W ait

t, i • . i i n , c %AMlmM Iff! patient 1 v. Rather annoyed thai my nearest neighbour has used mv

Roora quiet, and rest, and refinement ? |M | part of the table for a dish containing broad beans. Glare at him.

On, let em go home and. eat coke. WvOmf-Jm Xo result. Planetary waiter has passed me twice—stop him angrily

These fussy old footlers whose air stands ft- .fflfc*^ the third time. He is less busy now-he pauses. He thrusts bill of

on hend at a row-de-dow joke,
The song of the skylark sounds pooty,
but''skylarking" song's better fun,
And you carn't do the rooral to-rights
on a tract and a tuppenny bun.

As to colour, and kick-up, and sing-
song, our party was fair to the front;

But we wosn't alone ; lots of toppers, in
'Ouse-Boat, or four-oar, or punt,

Wos a doin' the rorty and rosy as lively
as 'Opkins's lot,

Ah ! the swells sling it out pooty thick ;
they ain't stashed by no ink-spiller's
rot.

Bright blazers, and twingle-twang ban-
joes, and bottles of Bass, my dear
boy,

Lots of dashing, and splashing, and "mashing" are things every
man must enjoy,

And the petticoats 'ain't fur behind 'em, you bet. While top-ropes
I can carry,

It ain't soap-hoard slop about " Quiet" will put the clear kibosh on

'Arry.

me to the Museum for eighteen-pence. Very angry and refuse.
He is hailed by someone else, and is off to pick up his new fare.
On consideration it seems to me that my anger has led to
nothing. Nothing—just what I wanted, but not exactly at the right
moment.

Rather hungry. Enter a restaurant. Crowded with gentlemen
wearing hats—who seem to be on intimate terms with the waiters.
Get a bill of fare which is thrust into my hands by an attendant
loaded with dishes. Let me see—what shall I have ? "Lamb's head
and peas." Have never tried this dish. Might be good. "Waiter
(who seems to be revolving, like the planetary system, in an orbit)
reaches me, and I shout what I want. He replies, " Sorry, Sir, just

HGW TO SPEND A HOLIDAY ON SCIENTIFIC PRINCIPLES.

{A Page from the Diary of an Enthusiast in search of Rest.)

[" It is a good rule of practice to devote one portion of a short vacation to
the serious and necessary business of doing nothing, and doing it very

thoroughly too."—Letter to the Times.] like home.' Or shall T go

At last my time for rest has arrived. Musn't be idle, though. | to my Club? Yes. Get there
Dr. Mortimer Granville says it would be most injurious to my
health. Must hunt up precedents for leisure leading to no results.
Let me see—why not try the British Museum ? Sure to find some-
thing useful there—and useless, which will be more appropriate.

Take an omnibus. See one in the distance. Hail it. Conductor
takes no notice! Shout and hurry after it. Try to attract attention
of the driver. Failure. Capital commencement to my labours.
Had my run for nothing !

Victory! _ Stopped one partially occupied. Kb room outside.
Enter interior. Six passengers on one seat. Five on the other.
The half dozen regard me with contemptuous indifference. The five
make no room. Explain that I want a seat. Remark received in
silence. Sit down on knee of small boy. Mother (next him)
expostulates—angrily. Chorus of indignant beholders. Conductor
is impertinent. Ask for his number, he asks for my fare. Pay him.
While this is going on, young woman has entered omnibus,
and taken vacant seat. Conductor counts places, says there
is no room. Can't carry me. Won't give back fare—has torn off
ticket. Says I must get out. Say I will report him. Impudent
again. Getting out drop ticket. Incident subsequently (to my later
satisfaction) leads to nothing!

W on't have anything more to do with the omnibuses. Enter
hansom—old man (the driver) smiles civilly when I say "British
Museum." Now, I must seriously rest. Go to sleep. Slumber until
awakened by a jolt. Look out. Find myself near the river.
Strikes me that the Thames is not close to the Museum. Appeal to
cabman through the hole in the roof. Difficulty in attracting his
attention. Stop him at last. Ask him why he did not take me
to the Museum. He smiles and says he didn't hear me—he
is deaf! Very angry. He expostulates, civilly. He saw I was
asleep and didn't wish to disturb me! He has been driving up and
down the Thames Embankment for the last three hours—charge
seven and sixpence. Don't see my way out of the difficulty, except
by payment. He thanks me, and suggests that he shall now drive

fare before me, and asks me "what 1 would please to want,
Explode and shout in tones of thunder, " Liver and bacon!" He
disappears, and comes back a few minutes later, saying, "Very
sorry, but when I first ordered it, liver and bacon teas on—now it's
off. Will I have a chop?" Reply angrily, "No." Same answer
to "Steak," "Duck and green peas," " A cut off the beef joint," and
"Irish stew." Waiter asks (with forced civility), "What will I
have!" I return, as I leave the restaurant, "Nothing!" On
regaining the street (although hungry) I am pleased to think that I
am still obeying Dr. Mortimer Granville's directions!

No use trying cab or omnibus. Both failures. Why not walk ?
Good way of wasting time, so begin to go northward, and in due
course get to Bloomsbury. Enter Museum. Umbrella seized.
Approach Reading Room. Civil attendant informs me that the
Library is closed—taking stock, or something! Then I have come all
this way for nothing! Angry, but inwardly contented. Doing
nothing "very thoroughly! "

Turn back. Why not go
to a theatre ? Certainly. Go
to four in succession, and
find them all closed! Well,
good way of wasting time.
Shall I visit one of the
Exhibitions ? Chelsea or
Earl's Court ? After con-
sideration, come to the con-
clusion that this would be
worse than doing nothing.
Must draw the line some-
wdiere!

After all, there is no place

Find it is being repaired,
and that the members are
taken in somewhere else.
Hate new scenes and new
faces. Return to my first
idea, and make for my pri-
vate address ; but feel that
it may be rather dull, as
my wufe and the children
are at the seaside. Still,
somebody can get me a little

supper. At least, I hope so. Find my latch-key is of no use, on
account of the chain being up. Ring angrily, when a charwoman in
a bonnet appears, and explains that the servants, not expecting me
home so early, have gone to the play, having locked up the larder.
Charwoman agrees wdth me that it is disgraceful—especially the
locking up of the larder.

However, it can't be helped. Make up my mind to go to bed, and
get fast asleep, thoroughly tired out with the labours of a day spent
in doing absolutely nothing! Hope (in my dreams) that Dr. Morti-
mer Granville wdll be satisfied!

"Our Children's Ears."

Whether they'll be as long as those of Midas,
Or stand out salient from either side as
A close-cropped Arry's, at right angles set
To his fiat jowl, we cannot settle, yet;
But in one thing, at least, a score they '11 chalk—
They will not hear the stuff their fathers talk !

Definition.—"La haute Cuisine"—the kitchen on the top flat
of a ten-storey'd mansion.