Punch: Punch (101.1891)

September 26, 1891.] PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI,

149

trap again. Bon voyage! Au revoir! And as passing out of
the lodge-gate we get a last glimpse of the party waving adieux to
us from the upper terrace, Daebinet flourishes his hat, and sings out
at the top of his yoice, "We're leaving thee in sorrow, Annie,"
which is more or less appropriate, perhaps ; and then, as the last flutter
of a pocket-handkerchief is seen, he finishes with '' And blass the
Prince of Waeles ! ! " After which he subsides, occasionally break-
ing the silence to sigh aloud, " O Maman !'" and thenceforth, for
the greater part of the journey to Paris, he slumbers in a more or
less jumpy manner.

At the Grand Hotel, Paris.— 1 Aha! " cries M. le Baron Bltjm,—
always in full Blum at the Grand Hotel,—"At last! arrived!" as
if he had expected us for several weeks past,—" How are you?_ I
have your rooms ready for vou! " He must have seen us driving
into the courtyard, and settled our numbers there and then, not a
minute ago. It's a great thing for weary travellers to be welcomed
on arrival. Is o matter if they 're forgotten again the next moment,
and not thought of again until the hour of their departure. It is the
welcome that is everything; it implies so much, and may mean so
little. But, at the Grand, Paris, Avis aux Messieurs les voyageurs,
" When in doubt, consult Blum ! " We enjoy a good but expen-
sive dinner at the Maison Doree. For myself, I prefer the simple
fare at half the price to be found chez Noel, or at some other quiet
and moderate restaurants that I could name. Next morning a brief
but welcome breakfast at Amiens, a tranquil crossing, and we are
bidding each other adieu at the Victoria Station. Music to the
situation, "Home once more." Good-bye to my excellent ami
Daebinet, who stays a few hours in London, and then is off to
Eussia, Eevpt, Iceland, Australia.

' 'Da Karascho ! All r-r-right! "

And so ends a pleasant holiday trip to the Champagne Country, or
real "Poppy-Land."

STORICULES.

Y.—A Born Aristocrat.

Whenever I forgot to put the matches in my pocket on leaving
the chambers, I used to buy a box from a boy who stood at the street
corner, where the 'busses stop. He was a small boy, somewhat
ragged and occasionally a good deal splashed with mud. He was

bright and energetic,
and he did a very
fair trade. There
was an air of com-
plete independence
about him, which
one does not often
find in match-boys.
His method of re-
commending his
wares was consider-
ably above the
average of the peri-
patetic vendor ; it
suggested a large
emporium, plate
glass, mahogany
counters, and gor-
geous assistants
with fair hair parted
in the middle :

"Nowoff'rin! A
unooshally lawge
box of wax vestas
for one penny. Shop
early and shop often.
Foosees, Sir ? Yessir.
Part o' a bankrupt's
stock."

This was smart of him. By differing a little from the usual
match-boy manner, he attracted more attention, and grins, and
coppers.

One morning I had climbed up to the top of the 'bus and taken my
seat, when I saw that the boy had followed me.

"( No use," I said • 1 don't want any this morning."
" AYell, I ain't sellin' none this mornin', Sir. I'm goin' a ride on
this 'eie 'buss. My wife's got the carridge hout in the Park ; so I'm
druv to takin' busses—same as you, Sir." He took the seat next to
mine, and added seriously, "I expecks as you ain't likely to be
buyin' no more matches from me."
"Why, William?"
My name is Reggerneld, Sir. Yer see, I'm movin' inter other
remises, as yer might say. I've give up my stand at yon corner."
e jerked his thumb in the direction of it,
"What's that for?"

E

"Oh—well—nothin'. Some of 'em think I'm a fool for doin' it,
The fac' was—I couldn't quite git on with my comp'ny there ? "
"What do you mean ? "

"I mean that other boy what come last Toosday, and started
sellin' pipers at my corner. You don't know 'oo 'e is, p'r'aps, nor
'oo I am." I did not know, and I was very willing to get the story
out of Reginald.

" Well, I come o' pretty mod'rately 'spectable folks, I do ; and I
ain't goin' to chum up with no thieves' sons an' as like as not thieves
theirselves. No thankyer. Them Board Schools is a deal too mixed.
Thet's 'ow I come to know about thet boy. 'Is father 'ad a barrer,
thet were what 'is father did for a livelihood, an' 'is mother were up
afore the beaks for poppin' shirts what she'd took in to wash. Well,
I ain't one to brag, but my father were a 'air-dresser's assistant in
Pimlico. Pretty well up, too, 'e was. The way 'e'd shive yer were
sutthin' to see. Shivin' ? Yer couldn't call it shivin' ; it were
gen'us, thet's what it were. Speccilation rooined 'im. 'E stawted
a small plice of 'is own, and bust. Then 'e took to the turf, and bust
agin. Then Mother begun di'ess-mikin' and there weren't no dress-
mikin'to be'ad; so that bust. We was unfortnit, Heve'rythin'as
we touched bust, But we never run no barrers, an' we never was
up afore no beaks, and if there weren't such a thund'rin' lot of us, I
shouldn't be doin' this now. Anywye, I respecs myself. So I'm
goin' to start a new pitch an' chawnce it."

I inquired where the new pitch was to be.

" I'm swoppin' with another boy (Eddeds 'is nime is) up fur end
o' this street. 'E ain't so perticler as I am. Clerks lives there
mostly, an' the biz ain't so good as it was in my old plice. Them
clerks wears top-'ats, an' consequently they daren't smoke pipes.
They cawn't afford to smoke cigars, and cigarettes is off'rin' eyep'ny
oicesto a stawvin' man. So they don't smoke at all, an' don't want
no matches. An' I don't blime 'em, mind yer. Pussonally, I chews
—but if I smoked a pipe I wouldn't do it with one o' them 'ats on.
'Cos why ? 'Cos I believes in a bit o' style. Not that I'm stuck-up
as yer might say, but I don't see no sense in lettin' myself down.
If 1 'd liked I could 'amade it so 'ot fur thetnewspiper boy that 'e'd
'ave 'ad to go. I could 'a mopped up the puddles with 'im if I'd
wanted. But I wouldn't, I wouldn't conterminate myself by so
much as 'avin' a word with 'im. I'd sooner leave—even if I lose
money on it. My father were one for style too, afore 'is shop bust,
Thet's 'ow it is, yer see. Some goes up, and some goes down. We've
come down, but I draws the line somewheer fur all thet—sure's my
name's Reggerneld. An' what do you think ?"

I told him that I was rather inclined to think that he was an idiot,
and tried to show him why he was an idiot. But he would not be
eonvinced. Class prejudice was strong within 'im.

"Look 'ere," he said, "you may think I'm young to be a'visin' o'
you, Sir. But jest mark my words—you cawn' be too keerful what
comp'ny yer gits fn.milyer with. I gits off 'ere. All - right,
kinducter, yer needn't stop."

MORE EXCITEMENT IN PARIS.

[" A valuable porcelain vase having been stolen from
Versailles Palace, a band of English tourists who were
visiting the place have been searched by the police; but
nothing was found upon them, and they have been liberated."
—St. James's Gazette, Sept. 17.]

flU

Portrait of English Tourist searched
in Paris on suspicion of having a The Porcelain Vase
valuable Porcelain Vase concealed in question,

about his person. ! eh ?

Holiday
Fare
in

Cornwall.

A Roll on
the billow,
A Loaf by
the shore,
A Fig for
fashion,
And Cream
galore!

" What's

in a
Name ?"

Mr. Aegcs-
tin Daly
says, " I have
never found,
as Chatter-
ton did, that
Shakspeare
spelt Ruin."
perhaps he
has been more
inclined to
think that
Shakspeare
spelt Resan,