DOI Heft:
January 30, 1892
DOI Seite / Zitierlink: https://doi.org/10.11588/diglit.17693#0062
52 PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHAKIVARI. [January 30, 1892.
PRESERVED VENICE.
(Specially Imported for the London Market.)
A SATURDAY NIGHT SCENE AT OLYMPIA.
In the Promenade.
A Pessimistic Matron (the usual beady and bugle-y female, who
takes all her pleasure as a penance). Well, they may call it
" Venice," but J don't see no difference from what it was when the
Barnuin Show was 'ere—except—(regretfully)—that then they 'ad
the Freaks o' Nature, and Jumbo's skelinton!
Her Husband (an Optimist—less from conviction than contradic-
tion). There you go, Mama, finding fault the minute you've put
The Opt. Husb. "Well, look 'ere, we've come out to enjoy ourselves
—what d'ye say to having a ride in one, eh ?
_ The P. 31. You won't ketch me trusting myself in one o' them
tituppy things, so don't you deceive yourself !
The Opt. Husb. Oh, it'son'y two foot o' warm water if you do
tip over. Come on! (Hailing Gondolier, who has just landed his
cargo.) 'Ere, 'ow much '11 you take the lot of us for, hey ?
Gondolier (gesticulating). Teekits ! you tek teekits—la—you vait!
Jem. He means we've got to go to the orfi.ee and take tickets and
stand in a cue, d'yer see?
The P. 31. Me go and form a cue down there and get squeeged
like at the Adelphi Pit, all to set in a rickety gondoaler! I can
see all I want to see without messing about in one o' them things !
your nose inside! We i , The Others. Well, I
ain't in Venice yet. It's «A dunno as it's worth the
up at the top o' them steps. ~ * extry sixpence, come to
The P. 31. Up all them t *S # think of it. (They pass
stairs? Well, I'ope it'11 on, contentedly.)
be worth seeing when we fMW^t l^~~~~~^ Jem. We 're on the
do get there, that's all! fmJSlif^ 'r "- Jlm$h&'^ Rialto Bridge now, Lizzie,
An Attendant (as she /"-'iA » ^paBapP^^^, ^'^^^^^MSuBKL. d'ye see? The one in
arrives at the top). Not y1^ / . .^«8K^OTl ' '^^^^S^^^Sk^ \ '£ ■' ffm^utt^f^m^ Sztakspeare, you know,
this door, Ma'am — next n ifh ^^^^^^^^^^.c^^^^W^^^^^^P '"''>:< ' }'w^^iS^^\ Lizzie. That 's the one
entrance for Modern / C ¥; 'w?*- • Wi^B^^^aJfeJ '^^H v —'m^W^k^nmr^1 they call the "Bridge o'
Venice. . ^W^&MKm^V S^*<IHr. JiWWKBK Sighs," ain't it? (Hazily.)
The Opt. Hush. You Vw^V ? VA 'J|w' %mlmSJ^M **Wm Is that because there's
needn't go all the way MmL i M^'^KmBmOU^^ iWL shops on it?
down again, when the WfTA' ' xt^mm ^SB\M\m^mBBhf^^ 'Tern. I dessay. Shops
steps join like that! Mf -or else suicides.
The P. 31. I'm not m\- .MmK^J Lizzie (more hazily than
going to walk sideways— f/l Ml l'w'V^SjM lr •' '< WimlfMKmM^m^^ ever). Ah, the same as the
I'm not a crab, Joe, jlf '^MffflM Monument. (They walk
whatever you may think. jiuiMwS on with a sense of mental
(Joe assents, with reser- {'. '"■ enlargement.)
rations). Now wherever ' 1 '■ ^K^MEm^^^^^^m^^^^^^^^^^l^iImm.W^^^^B^Sssi^^m^^^^^iA Mrs. Lavender Salt.
have those other two got \[ '•}..W ^'s wonderfully like the
to ? 'urrying off that way! ,'; '■' muw?^ real thing, Lavender,
Oh, there they are. 'Ere, A^Mm^i^^sl^^^^^^Mwwil1 IWiWmm^^^^^^^^BmlfflM^^^^^} isn't it? Of course they
Lizzie and Jem, keep along .4^1111^^^ can't quite get the true
o' me and Father, do, or ,' j«§pPfflj|s|a^ ''•^^w^^^^^S^^^^^M^v^^^^^t^~~ Venetian atmosphere !
we shan't see half of Mr.L. S. Well, Mimosa,
those' tali ''fellows' look ^^^| ■ r'^^^I^I^^^^^^^^^^^^^^TO^^^^^^^^^K^l 80 horribly unromantic !
smart with the red feathers $Bfj 1 ^' v r —~ ' ^U^' ^ATE:n)EI1' couhln't
What'do they Sli them? /JB ;! ||1 MSMi^^^^^H^^B I ll/Bwiplllldda^anT go atout?°lt
J em (a young man, who Ifamm •• % W\W^UmS^^:: '^Mff^^^iw^- ^Wi^WWrnf " wou^ De 80 lovely to be
thinks for himself,. Well, N Wfflj \ I I T Fffflii] 111 one aoa'n» an<* fancy
"^>^SS ^-'^"--iBr^^ ''^^i ^ 1^ ^^^^ '''^^^ ' between barriers^
look, with all those queer | ^'^^^^^^^^^ ^ suppressed amuse-
Jew. Bound to be, with ' -nV^^flpflpff^Pf'"- shoulder to her husband,
all the money they've spent ^ygyj^p^* as she imagines). I'd no
on it. I daresay they've idea we should have to go
idle-ised it a bit, though. " Pm sure 1 'm 'ighly flattered, Mum, but I'm already suited.' through all this ! Must
The P. 31. Where are all these kinals they talk so much about ? '
J don't see none !
Jem (as a break in the crowd reveals a narrow olive-green
channel). Why, what d 'ye call that, Ma ?
The P. M. That a kinal! Why, you don't mean to tell me any
barge'ud-
The Opt. Husb. Go on!—you didn't suppose you'd find the
Paddmgton Canal in these parts, did you ? This is 'big enough for
all they want. (A gondola goes by lurchily, crowded with pot-hatted
passengers, smoking pipes, and wearing the uncomfortable smile of
children enjoying their first elephant-ride.) That's one o' these 'ere
gondoalers—it's a rum-looking; concern, ain't it ? But I suppose you
get used to 'em—(philosophically)—-like everything else !
The P. M. It gives me the creeps to look at 'em. Talk about
earses!
we really herd in with all these people? Can't we two manage to
get a gondola all to ourselves ?
A Voice (not Lavender's—in her ear). I'm sure I'm 'ighly
flattered. Mum, but I'm already suited; yn't I, Dtsy ?
[Dysy corroborates his statement with unnecessary emphasis.
A Sturdy Democrat (in front, over his shoulder). Pity yer didn't
send word you was coming, Mum, and then they'd lia' kep' the place
clear of us common people for yer ! [Mrs. L. S. is sorry she spoke.
In the Gondola.—Mr. and Mrs. L. S. are seated in the back seat,
supported on one side by the Humorous 'Arry. and his Fiancee,
ana on the other by a pale, bloated youth, with a particularly
rank cigar, and the Sturdy Democrat, whose two small boys
occupy the seat in front.
The St. Bern, (with malice aforethought). If you two lads ain't
PRESERVED VENICE.
(Specially Imported for the London Market.)
A SATURDAY NIGHT SCENE AT OLYMPIA.
In the Promenade.
A Pessimistic Matron (the usual beady and bugle-y female, who
takes all her pleasure as a penance). Well, they may call it
" Venice," but J don't see no difference from what it was when the
Barnuin Show was 'ere—except—(regretfully)—that then they 'ad
the Freaks o' Nature, and Jumbo's skelinton!
Her Husband (an Optimist—less from conviction than contradic-
tion). There you go, Mama, finding fault the minute you've put
The Opt. Husb. "Well, look 'ere, we've come out to enjoy ourselves
—what d'ye say to having a ride in one, eh ?
_ The P. 31. You won't ketch me trusting myself in one o' them
tituppy things, so don't you deceive yourself !
The Opt. Husb. Oh, it'son'y two foot o' warm water if you do
tip over. Come on! (Hailing Gondolier, who has just landed his
cargo.) 'Ere, 'ow much '11 you take the lot of us for, hey ?
Gondolier (gesticulating). Teekits ! you tek teekits—la—you vait!
Jem. He means we've got to go to the orfi.ee and take tickets and
stand in a cue, d'yer see?
The P. 31. Me go and form a cue down there and get squeeged
like at the Adelphi Pit, all to set in a rickety gondoaler! I can
see all I want to see without messing about in one o' them things !
your nose inside! We i , The Others. Well, I
ain't in Venice yet. It's «A dunno as it's worth the
up at the top o' them steps. ~ * extry sixpence, come to
The P. 31. Up all them t *S # think of it. (They pass
stairs? Well, I'ope it'11 on, contentedly.)
be worth seeing when we fMW^t l^~~~~~^ Jem. We 're on the
do get there, that's all! fmJSlif^ 'r "- Jlm$h&'^ Rialto Bridge now, Lizzie,
An Attendant (as she /"-'iA » ^paBapP^^^, ^'^^^^^MSuBKL. d'ye see? The one in
arrives at the top). Not y1^ / . .^«8K^OTl ' '^^^^S^^^Sk^ \ '£ ■' ffm^utt^f^m^ Sztakspeare, you know,
this door, Ma'am — next n ifh ^^^^^^^^^^.c^^^^W^^^^^^P '"''>:< ' }'w^^iS^^\ Lizzie. That 's the one
entrance for Modern / C ¥; 'w?*- • Wi^B^^^aJfeJ '^^H v —'m^W^k^nmr^1 they call the "Bridge o'
Venice. . ^W^&MKm^V S^*<IHr. JiWWKBK Sighs," ain't it? (Hazily.)
The Opt. Hush. You Vw^V ? VA 'J|w' %mlmSJ^M **Wm Is that because there's
needn't go all the way MmL i M^'^KmBmOU^^ iWL shops on it?
down again, when the WfTA' ' xt^mm ^SB\M\m^mBBhf^^ 'Tern. I dessay. Shops
steps join like that! Mf -or else suicides.
The P. 31. I'm not m\- .MmK^J Lizzie (more hazily than
going to walk sideways— f/l Ml l'w'V^SjM lr •' '< WimlfMKmM^m^^ ever). Ah, the same as the
I'm not a crab, Joe, jlf '^MffflM Monument. (They walk
whatever you may think. jiuiMwS on with a sense of mental
(Joe assents, with reser- {'. '"■ enlargement.)
rations). Now wherever ' 1 '■ ^K^MEm^^^^^^m^^^^^^^^^^l^iImm.W^^^^B^Sssi^^m^^^^^iA Mrs. Lavender Salt.
have those other two got \[ '•}..W ^'s wonderfully like the
to ? 'urrying off that way! ,'; '■' muw?^ real thing, Lavender,
Oh, there they are. 'Ere, A^Mm^i^^sl^^^^^^Mwwil1 IWiWmm^^^^^^^^BmlfflM^^^^^} isn't it? Of course they
Lizzie and Jem, keep along .4^1111^^^ can't quite get the true
o' me and Father, do, or ,' j«§pPfflj|s|a^ ''•^^w^^^^^S^^^^^M^v^^^^^t^~~ Venetian atmosphere !
we shan't see half of Mr.L. S. Well, Mimosa,
those' tali ''fellows' look ^^^| ■ r'^^^I^I^^^^^^^^^^^^^^TO^^^^^^^^^K^l 80 horribly unromantic !
smart with the red feathers $Bfj 1 ^' v r —~ ' ^U^' ^ATE:n)EI1' couhln't
What'do they Sli them? /JB ;! ||1 MSMi^^^^^H^^B I ll/Bwiplllldda^anT go atout?°lt
J em (a young man, who Ifamm •• % W\W^UmS^^:: '^Mff^^^iw^- ^Wi^WWrnf " wou^ De 80 lovely to be
thinks for himself,. Well, N Wfflj \ I I T Fffflii] 111 one aoa'n» an<* fancy
"^>^SS ^-'^"--iBr^^ ''^^i ^ 1^ ^^^^ '''^^^ ' between barriers^
look, with all those queer | ^'^^^^^^^^^ ^ suppressed amuse-
Jew. Bound to be, with ' -nV^^flpflpff^Pf'"- shoulder to her husband,
all the money they've spent ^ygyj^p^* as she imagines). I'd no
on it. I daresay they've idea we should have to go
idle-ised it a bit, though. " Pm sure 1 'm 'ighly flattered, Mum, but I'm already suited.' through all this ! Must
The P. 31. Where are all these kinals they talk so much about ? '
J don't see none !
Jem (as a break in the crowd reveals a narrow olive-green
channel). Why, what d 'ye call that, Ma ?
The P. M. That a kinal! Why, you don't mean to tell me any
barge'ud-
The Opt. Husb. Go on!—you didn't suppose you'd find the
Paddmgton Canal in these parts, did you ? This is 'big enough for
all they want. (A gondola goes by lurchily, crowded with pot-hatted
passengers, smoking pipes, and wearing the uncomfortable smile of
children enjoying their first elephant-ride.) That's one o' these 'ere
gondoalers—it's a rum-looking; concern, ain't it ? But I suppose you
get used to 'em—(philosophically)—-like everything else !
The P. M. It gives me the creeps to look at 'em. Talk about
earses!
we really herd in with all these people? Can't we two manage to
get a gondola all to ourselves ?
A Voice (not Lavender's—in her ear). I'm sure I'm 'ighly
flattered. Mum, but I'm already suited; yn't I, Dtsy ?
[Dysy corroborates his statement with unnecessary emphasis.
A Sturdy Democrat (in front, over his shoulder). Pity yer didn't
send word you was coming, Mum, and then they'd lia' kep' the place
clear of us common people for yer ! [Mrs. L. S. is sorry she spoke.
In the Gondola.—Mr. and Mrs. L. S. are seated in the back seat,
supported on one side by the Humorous 'Arry. and his Fiancee,
ana on the other by a pale, bloated youth, with a particularly
rank cigar, and the Sturdy Democrat, whose two small boys
occupy the seat in front.
The St. Bern, (with malice aforethought). If you two lads ain't