DOI Heft:
October 15, 1892
DOI Seite / Zitierlink: https://doi.org/10.11588/diglit.17694#0183
178
PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. [October 15, 1892.
LADY GAY'S SELECTIONS.
Deae Me. Punch, Mount Street, Grosvenor Square.
OUE BOOKING-OFFICE.
Not the least interesting figure in the circle of The Racing Life
Nothing hut a keen sense of duty, coupled with the posses- of Lord George Bentinck, which Messrs. Blackwood produce in a
sion of the smartest thing in waterproof overcoats ever seen, would i handsome volume, is that of John Kent, who, under the editorship
have tempted me to go racing last week; but the claims of Hurst | of Mr. Frank Lawley, tells the story. Kent was trainer to Lord
Park were not to be denied, and my reward was, assisting at i Geoege during the period when, to quote the characteristic Disraelian
perhaps the most successful meeting ever held there—(the backers phrase, his Lordship became "Lord Paramount of the Turf." It is
" went down " to a man, and so_ did the excellent lunch—so what j forty-four years since Lord Geoege was found lying dead on his face
more could you want ?)—and, in addition, being told by at least j in the water-meadows near Welbeck Abbey. Yet Kent remembers
twenty people, the name of the winner of the Cesarewitch !—they j all about him—his six feet of height, his long black frock-coat, his
all named different horses, so that one is almost certain to be able to j velvet waistcoat, his gold chain, and his " costly cream-ooloured satin
say next week, in that annoying tone of voice people adopt after a ; scarf of great length, knotted under his chin, with a gold pin stuck
successful prophecy—(this does not apply to Just Prophets, who are in it." These scarves cost twenty shillings a-piece, and it was one of
notoriously modest in success)—
" There ! I told you it was a cer-
tainty for Whiteface ' — couldn't
lose!—of course you backed it,
after what I told you!" —which of
course was the very reason why you
hadn't backed it; however—as he
may really be able to tell you some-
thing on a future occasion, you put
on a ghastly smile, and say—"Oh,
yes—I had a trifle on—but my
money was on Blackfoot before you
told me—but it got me out I"—
and it does "get you out" too, for
nothing is more annoying than to
be told you 4' ought to have won a
good stake! "
However, with regard to the
great race next week, I am fortu-
nately able to set aside all "infor-
mation received," because I have
had a dream !—not one of the ordi-
nary lobster-salad kind of racing-
dreams one reads about—(naturally
J should not have an inferior
kind, having ordered in a stock of
the best selected," one to be taken
every night at bed-time)—in which
the dreamer only sees one horse—
but a most complicated affair, from
which it will be an easy task for
anyone skilled in dream-lore to
extract the winner!
Well—I had been rather upset
during the day, so to quiet my nerves,
on reaching home, I took, before
going to bed, just a little Golden Drop
of Brandy as an Lnsuranee against
restlessness — went to sleep, and
dreamt that my friends Lady Vil-
likins and Madame d1 Albany, with
their maid Helen Ware, were
attacked on their way from Lllsley
to Weymouth, by some Dare Devil
of a Circassian, whose horse's hoofs
rang in a Metallic manner on the
road! They were rescued in the
pass of Ben Avon by the gallant
Burnaby, who after a long Rig-
marole, squared their captor, Roy
Neil, with a Hanover Jack, and
acted as their Pilot to safe quarters at Versailles! There!—that
was my dream — and I think it points most conclusively to the
winner; and, anyone unable to pick the right one, need only
back them all, and there you are!—or at least you may be.
If they don't care to do this, they can avail themselves of my
verse selection—which I did not dream—and which, therefore, is
quite as reliable. yourS) deyotedly) lady gay.
Cesaeewitch Selection.
Oh, Weymouth is a pleasant
place,
An I bathing tents are handy;
A CONTENTED MIND.
He. " A—the fact is, I don't caee foe Populaeity. I only
wish my Books to be admired by those whose Admiration
is really worth having 1" She. "And who are they?"
He. "Those who admire my Books I"
When coming out, if white your
face,
Why, take a nip of Brandy.
P.S.—This advice is not intended for confirmed Topers.
" Sue le Tapis.' —If the new Carpet Knight, Sir Blondel
Maple—which is our troubadourish way of spelling it—be excep-
tionally successful on the Turf, isn't he just the man to " make his
'pile' and cut it" ?
Lord Geoege's fancies never to
wear one a second time. When he
died whole drawersful of them
were found, and honest John Kent
purchased half-a-dozen from his
Lordship's valet, who seems to have
kept his eye on them. Did he ever
wear them on Sundays ? My Ba-
ronite who has been reading the
book trows not. J ohn Kent knows
his place better than that, and when
he goes the way that masters and
servants tread together, the scarves
will doubtless be found tucked
away in his chest of drawers. My
Baronite is not able to take the same
lofty view of the defunct nobleman
who played at politics and worked
at racing as does his faithful old
servitor. Lord Geoege seems to
have been, as the cabman observed
of the late John Foestee, " a
harbitery gent," kind to those who
faithfully serve him (as one is kind
to a useful hound), but relentless to
any who offended him or crossed
his path. Moreover, whilst, as his
biographer devoutly says, he puri-
fied the turf, he was not, upon
occasion, above fighting blacklegs
with their own weapons. The book
gives clear glimpses of men and
times which, less than half a cen-
tury dead, will never live again.
It pleasantly testifies that, though
no man may be a hero to his valet,
Lord Geoege Bentinck remains
one in the eyes of his trainer.
The Baron not having read a
three-volume n«vel for some con-
siderable time, may safely affirm,
instead of taking his oath, that
Mrs. Oliphant's The Cuckoo in the
Nest is one of the best he has
come across for quite two months.
It opens well, and if it drops a bit
about the middle, there are all sorts
of, surprises yet in store for the
reader, who, the Baron assures him
or her, will be rewarded for his,
or her, perseverance.
The Baron begs to recommend the latest volume of the Whitefriars
Library, ealled King Zub, by W. H. Pollock. Zub is a wise poodle,
and the waggish tale of the dog gives the name to the collection. The
Fleeting Show is quite on a par with The Green Lady in a former col-
lection by the same author, and such other stories as Sir Jocelyn's
Cap and A Phantom Fish will delight those who, like the Baron,
love the mixture as before of the weird and the humorous. In the
Phantom Fish there is much local dialect, and The Baron coming
across the expression, " a proper bender," is inclined to ask if this
is not Zummerzetsheer for, and only applicable to, a running hare ?
The Baron remembers the expression well; though 'tis years since
he heard it, and owns to being uncertain as to whether it is
not Devonian or Cornish, '.'hat he heard it applied to a hare
apparent he is prepared to make oath and say; but he is not in
the least prepared to assert that it is not generally applied as
an expression of admiration for adroitness m avoiding pursuit.
" Be that as it may, givo me King Zub and the other stories, a
good fire, a glass of spiritual comfort, a cosy chair, and a soothing
pipe, and I am prepared to spend a pleasant evening," says
The Baeon de Book-Woems.
WM0
PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. [October 15, 1892.
LADY GAY'S SELECTIONS.
Deae Me. Punch, Mount Street, Grosvenor Square.
OUE BOOKING-OFFICE.
Not the least interesting figure in the circle of The Racing Life
Nothing hut a keen sense of duty, coupled with the posses- of Lord George Bentinck, which Messrs. Blackwood produce in a
sion of the smartest thing in waterproof overcoats ever seen, would i handsome volume, is that of John Kent, who, under the editorship
have tempted me to go racing last week; but the claims of Hurst | of Mr. Frank Lawley, tells the story. Kent was trainer to Lord
Park were not to be denied, and my reward was, assisting at i Geoege during the period when, to quote the characteristic Disraelian
perhaps the most successful meeting ever held there—(the backers phrase, his Lordship became "Lord Paramount of the Turf." It is
" went down " to a man, and so_ did the excellent lunch—so what j forty-four years since Lord Geoege was found lying dead on his face
more could you want ?)—and, in addition, being told by at least j in the water-meadows near Welbeck Abbey. Yet Kent remembers
twenty people, the name of the winner of the Cesarewitch !—they j all about him—his six feet of height, his long black frock-coat, his
all named different horses, so that one is almost certain to be able to j velvet waistcoat, his gold chain, and his " costly cream-ooloured satin
say next week, in that annoying tone of voice people adopt after a ; scarf of great length, knotted under his chin, with a gold pin stuck
successful prophecy—(this does not apply to Just Prophets, who are in it." These scarves cost twenty shillings a-piece, and it was one of
notoriously modest in success)—
" There ! I told you it was a cer-
tainty for Whiteface ' — couldn't
lose!—of course you backed it,
after what I told you!" —which of
course was the very reason why you
hadn't backed it; however—as he
may really be able to tell you some-
thing on a future occasion, you put
on a ghastly smile, and say—"Oh,
yes—I had a trifle on—but my
money was on Blackfoot before you
told me—but it got me out I"—
and it does "get you out" too, for
nothing is more annoying than to
be told you 4' ought to have won a
good stake! "
However, with regard to the
great race next week, I am fortu-
nately able to set aside all "infor-
mation received," because I have
had a dream !—not one of the ordi-
nary lobster-salad kind of racing-
dreams one reads about—(naturally
J should not have an inferior
kind, having ordered in a stock of
the best selected," one to be taken
every night at bed-time)—in which
the dreamer only sees one horse—
but a most complicated affair, from
which it will be an easy task for
anyone skilled in dream-lore to
extract the winner!
Well—I had been rather upset
during the day, so to quiet my nerves,
on reaching home, I took, before
going to bed, just a little Golden Drop
of Brandy as an Lnsuranee against
restlessness — went to sleep, and
dreamt that my friends Lady Vil-
likins and Madame d1 Albany, with
their maid Helen Ware, were
attacked on their way from Lllsley
to Weymouth, by some Dare Devil
of a Circassian, whose horse's hoofs
rang in a Metallic manner on the
road! They were rescued in the
pass of Ben Avon by the gallant
Burnaby, who after a long Rig-
marole, squared their captor, Roy
Neil, with a Hanover Jack, and
acted as their Pilot to safe quarters at Versailles! There!—that
was my dream — and I think it points most conclusively to the
winner; and, anyone unable to pick the right one, need only
back them all, and there you are!—or at least you may be.
If they don't care to do this, they can avail themselves of my
verse selection—which I did not dream—and which, therefore, is
quite as reliable. yourS) deyotedly) lady gay.
Cesaeewitch Selection.
Oh, Weymouth is a pleasant
place,
An I bathing tents are handy;
A CONTENTED MIND.
He. " A—the fact is, I don't caee foe Populaeity. I only
wish my Books to be admired by those whose Admiration
is really worth having 1" She. "And who are they?"
He. "Those who admire my Books I"
When coming out, if white your
face,
Why, take a nip of Brandy.
P.S.—This advice is not intended for confirmed Topers.
" Sue le Tapis.' —If the new Carpet Knight, Sir Blondel
Maple—which is our troubadourish way of spelling it—be excep-
tionally successful on the Turf, isn't he just the man to " make his
'pile' and cut it" ?
Lord Geoege's fancies never to
wear one a second time. When he
died whole drawersful of them
were found, and honest John Kent
purchased half-a-dozen from his
Lordship's valet, who seems to have
kept his eye on them. Did he ever
wear them on Sundays ? My Ba-
ronite who has been reading the
book trows not. J ohn Kent knows
his place better than that, and when
he goes the way that masters and
servants tread together, the scarves
will doubtless be found tucked
away in his chest of drawers. My
Baronite is not able to take the same
lofty view of the defunct nobleman
who played at politics and worked
at racing as does his faithful old
servitor. Lord Geoege seems to
have been, as the cabman observed
of the late John Foestee, " a
harbitery gent," kind to those who
faithfully serve him (as one is kind
to a useful hound), but relentless to
any who offended him or crossed
his path. Moreover, whilst, as his
biographer devoutly says, he puri-
fied the turf, he was not, upon
occasion, above fighting blacklegs
with their own weapons. The book
gives clear glimpses of men and
times which, less than half a cen-
tury dead, will never live again.
It pleasantly testifies that, though
no man may be a hero to his valet,
Lord Geoege Bentinck remains
one in the eyes of his trainer.
The Baron not having read a
three-volume n«vel for some con-
siderable time, may safely affirm,
instead of taking his oath, that
Mrs. Oliphant's The Cuckoo in the
Nest is one of the best he has
come across for quite two months.
It opens well, and if it drops a bit
about the middle, there are all sorts
of, surprises yet in store for the
reader, who, the Baron assures him
or her, will be rewarded for his,
or her, perseverance.
The Baron begs to recommend the latest volume of the Whitefriars
Library, ealled King Zub, by W. H. Pollock. Zub is a wise poodle,
and the waggish tale of the dog gives the name to the collection. The
Fleeting Show is quite on a par with The Green Lady in a former col-
lection by the same author, and such other stories as Sir Jocelyn's
Cap and A Phantom Fish will delight those who, like the Baron,
love the mixture as before of the weird and the humorous. In the
Phantom Fish there is much local dialect, and The Baron coming
across the expression, " a proper bender," is inclined to ask if this
is not Zummerzetsheer for, and only applicable to, a running hare ?
The Baron remembers the expression well; though 'tis years since
he heard it, and owns to being uncertain as to whether it is
not Devonian or Cornish, '.'hat he heard it applied to a hare
apparent he is prepared to make oath and say; but he is not in
the least prepared to assert that it is not generally applied as
an expression of admiration for adroitness m avoiding pursuit.
" Be that as it may, givo me King Zub and the other stories, a
good fire, a glass of spiritual comfort, a cosy chair, and a soothing
pipe, and I am prepared to spend a pleasant evening," says
The Baeon de Book-Woems.
WM0