Punch (103.1892)

September 24, 1892.] PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. 133

'ARRY AT 'ARRYGATE.

Dear Charlie,—Rum mix this 'ere world

is, yer never know wot '11 come next!
Don't emagine I've sent yer a sermon, and

treacle this out as my text;
But really life's turn-ups are twisters. You

lay out for larks, 'ealth, and tin,
"But whenever you think it's "a moral,"

that crock, Unexpected," romps in,

Who'd ha' thought of me jacking up
suddent, and giving the Sawbones a
turn?

"Who'd ha' pictered me 1' Taking the
Waters"? Ah! Charlie, 'twos hodds
on the Urn

With Yours Truly, this time, I essure you.

I fancied as Tot'nam-Court Road
Would be trying its 'and on my tombstone

afore the green corn wos full growed.

Where the Primrose Path leads to, my pip-
pin, I'm cocksure can't 'ave a wus smell.

Like bad eggs, salt, and tenpenny nails biled
in bilge water. Eugh ! Old Pump Well ?

Wy then let well alone, is my motter, or
leastways, it would be, I'm sure,

But for Black—local doctor, a stunner!—
who's got me in 'and for a cure.

In the way of a bath I 'ave met with; but,

bless yer, it passes the time,
And I shan't want a tub for a fortnit when

back in Old Babbylon's grime.

Dull 'ole, this 'ere 'Arrygate, Charlie ! The

only fair fun I can find
Is watching the poor sulphur-swigger 3, a-

gargling and going it blind.
Oh, the sniffs and sour faces, old fellow, the

shudders and shivers, and sighs ;
The white lips a-working like rabbits', the
sheepish blue-funk in their eyes!

Old Pump Room 's a hoctygon building, rum

blend like of chapel and bar,
With a big stained - glass winder one side,

hallygorical subject! So far
As I 'ye yet made it out, it's a hangel a-

stirring up somethink like suds.
"A-troubling the waters," I 'eard from a

party in clerical duds.

I 'm not nuts on baths took too reglar ; but

'Arrygate baths ain't 'arf bad,
When you git a bit used to 'em, Charlie.

I squirmed, though fust off, dear old lad !
They so soused, and so slapped, and so

squirted me. Messing a feller about
Doa't come nicer for calling it massage.
But there, it's O.K. I've no doubt.

They squat you upon a low shelf, with a sort

of a water-can "rose "
At the nape of yer neck, while a feller in
front squirts yer down with a 'ose.

Bad, Charlie ? You bet! 'Twas screw- s^^3^ You arsk' like you do at a lbar' for tke

matics and liver, old Pill-box declared. y£i«Pl\ speeches of lotion you want.

Knocked me slap orf my porch, fair 'eels ^J^PPNh me say ^ou Zlt used to tne Saviour, and

uppards. I tell you I felt a bit scared, W^Wlm T , llke lt •' .Be* lon£ nodds 1 shan't.

And it left me a yailer-skinned skelinton, PfPISlII 1 ve samPled tne lot< m? dear Charlie,

weak, and, wot's wus, stoney-broke. ' (I fpfjmwf) Strong Sulphur and Mild, Cold««d 'Ot;

If it hadn't a bin for my nunkv, your pal M'^W/' Can say ls' jossers who say

might have jest done a croak. lIHS&L ^ am t lastly talk rot'

Uncle Nobbs, a Cat's-butcher at Clapton, ' ^ N^ jfW\M^ You jest fox their faces! They enters, looks

who's bin in luck's way, and sSuck ^ \) ^J^Jffi^ B^cSZ^^^r, brace

Is dead'nuts on Yours Truly. Old josser, and \ . - i Take^r^ok^^™ Stii^ffi
grumpy butt's made his pile. ^ LWm^WM^^ assulin' a sham orto ut^'

Saw me se tin' about m the garden, jest f^S=j If^^W^^M^W And ask, shame-faced like, for their gargle,

like a old saffron-gill d ghost OSI gMj|Ma\ 'as p'r'aps is a'ot sixteen hounce.

A-waitmg for cock-crow to 'ook it, and JH| | f Hm$ w i MWw-MWrMm^^^^k- \

hanxious to 'ear it—a'most. Uf |k /■■^WXW'WWlW^^X When tney ^ it, a-fume in a tumbler, a-

e , lim , . , , , JM fflMXf^^Sl^M^OTf Vi^fiiil smelling like hegg-chests gone wrong,

Sez he, Wy, the boy is a bone-bag! QsdV' MV/Wji™ They squirm, ask the snowy-capped gurl,
W ot's that f Converlescent ? Oh, ^^^SSBk/.MJ, M^^M\ 0^M *"Is this ri-ht • "-" Yes, Sir. Sixteen
fudge. _ ^^r^^m'^W^^'^MM/M^^H'i^^^/ ounce, strong!"

He's a slipping his cable, and drifting out Sez tbe minx with a cold kind o' smile.

sea-wards, if/'m any judge. \pmm^^^l^^m 41 Ah-h—h! ^ercisely!" they smirks,

I was ditto some twenty year back, Bob, and 'Arrygate J il'-WMj^^^-'^^^^^^^j and walks round

fust set me up. f JMMU | \^gXr With this " Yorkshire Stinko" in their

Wot saved the old dog, brother Robert, may probably / ^MtV/i \^ M 'ands—and their 'earts in their mouths

suit the young pup. \ff/M'//£ \ C^9k I'll be bound.

" Carn't afford it? O'course yer carn't, Jenny; but- 'UWIM \ ThenTGulp ! ph Gewillikins Charlie ! it

thanks be to 'orse-flesh—I can_" T^^^A'W^-i=^f/ glves yer tke dltfierums, it do.

Well, he tipped us a fifty-quid crisp 'un—and Roose A ~^=Sf jt^M , Q Bad enough if you 'ave to wolf one, but it

sent me 'ere ; he's my Man! / > z^flf * Lml -L\ ■ ™ fair gives yer beans when 'tistwo. .
Three weeks' "treatment"! Well, threes into fifty / jffa - W Thewictimswaltzround,lookingwhite,wish-
means cutting a bit of a dash; / W=§\ . mg someone would just spill to wet
Good grub, nobby togs, local doctor, baths, waters, and f\ -W^' /' . And-there's 'ardly a glass returned
every think flash. , / 1 "W empty »f but wot shows its 'eel-taps,

He slaps you as though you wos batter, he

kneads you as if you wos dough,
And gives yer wot for on the spine, till you
git in a doose of a glow.

"'Appy 'Arry!" sez you. But way-oh,

Charlie ! 'Arrygate isn't all jam.
Me jolly? Well, mate, if you arsk me,

I carn't 'ardly say as I ham.
To spread myself out with the toppers is

proper, no doubt, bonny boy ;
But—I wish it wos Brighton, or Margit, or

somewheres a chap could enjoy.

Oh, them " Waters," old man ! !! S'elp_ me

never! yer don't kow wot nastyness is
Till you've tried "Sulphur 'ot and strong,"

fasting. The Kissing Gin, taken a-fizz,
Isn't zvus than ditch-water and sherbet; but

Sulphur!!! It's eased my game leg ;
But I go with my heart in my mouth, and

I feel like a blooming bad hegg.

B-r-r-r-r! Beastliness isn't the word,
Charlie. Language seems out of it,
slap.

When I took my fust twelve ounces 'ot, from
a gal with a snowy white cap,

And cheeks like a blush-rose for bloominess—
well, I'm a gent, but, yah-bah!

I jest did a guy at the double, without even
nodding ta-ta!

Then you 're popped in a big iron cage,
where the 'ose plays upon you like
fun;

A lawn, or a house a-fire, Charlie, could

not be more thoroughly done.
Sez I, " I'm insured, dontcher know, mate ;

so don't waste the water, d 'ye 'ear ? "
But he didn't appear to arf twig. He

seemed jest a bit thick in the clear.

Then the bars of yer cage bustes out like a

_ lot of scent fountings a-play—
'Taint oder colong, though, by hodds;

sulphur strong seems the local bokay.
They call this the " Needle Bath," Charlie.

It give me the needle fust off;
'Cos the spray would git into my eyes, and

the squelch made me sputter and cough.

Then they wrop you well up in 'ot towels,
and leave yer five minutes to bake,

And that's the " Aix Douche," as they call
it, I call it the funniest fake

you bet!

This is " Taking the Waters" at 'Arrygate!

Well, I shall soon take my 'ook.
Speshal Scotch, at my favourite pub, from
that sparkling young dona, Nell Cook,
Will do me a treat arter this, mate, and

come most pertikler A 1.
'Ow I long to be back in "The Village,"
dear boy, with its bustle and fun!

Still, the air 'ere's as fresh as they make

it, and gives yer a doose of a peck,
And Dunsing, the Boss at "The Crown,"

does yer proper. I came 'ere a wreck ;
But sulphur, sound sleep, and cool breezes,

prime prog, and good company tells ;
So 'ere's bully for 'Arrygate, Charlie, in

spite of rum baths and bad smells.

That Fifty is nearly played out, and my
slap at the Ebor went wrong—

I'd a Yorkshire tyke's tip, too, old man;
but I'm stoney, though still "going
strong "

(As Lord Arthur remarks in the play), so
no more at "The Crown" I must
tarry,

But if 'Arrygate wants a good word—as to
'ealth—it shall 'ave it from 'Abrv.

vol. cm.