Punch (103.1892)

December 3, 1892.] PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI, 261

CONVERSATIONAL HINTS FOE, YOUNG SHOOTERS.

The Smoking-Room.
( With which is incorporated " Anecdotes.")
Let us imagine, if you please, that the toils and trampings of the

the little hero of insignificant adventures, and to relate them to the
whole world in every dull detail, regardless of the right of other men
to get an occasional word in edgewise—these are the true marks of
the genuine bore. He must know that you take no interest in him
or his story. Even if you did, his manner of telling it would flatten
you, yet he fascinates you with that glassy stare, that self-conscious

day are over. You are staying at a comfortable country-house with j and self-admiring smirk, and distils his tale into your ears at the

friends whom you like. You have had a good day at your host's
pheasants and his rabbits. Your shooting has been fairly accurate,
not ostentatiously brilliant, but on the whole satisfactory. You have

very moment when you are burning to talk over old College-days
with Chalmers, or to discuss an article in the Field with Shabrack.
I remember once finding myself, by some freak of mocking destiny,

followed out the hints given in my previous Chapters, and are con- : in a house in wbich two bores had established fortified camps. On
sequently looked upon as a pleasant fellow, with plenty to say for i the first night, we all became so dazed with intolerable dulness, that

himself. After tea, in the
drawing-room, you have
had an hour or two for the
writing of letters, which
you have of course not
written, for the reading of
the morning papers from
London which you have
skimmed with a faint inte-
rest, and for the forty or
eighty or one hundred and
twenty winks in an arm-
chair in front of the fire,
which are by no means the
least pleasant and com-
forting incident in the day's
programme. You have
dressed for dinner in good
time; you have tied your
white tie successfully "in
once;" you have taken in
a charming girl (Rose
Larking, let us say) to
dinner. The dinner itself
has been good, the drawing-
room interlude after dinner
has been pleasantly varied
with music, and the ladies
have, with the tact for
which they are sometimes
distinguished, retired early
to bed-rooms, where it is
believed they spend hours
in the combing of their
beautiful hair, and the
interchange of gossip. You
are in high spirits. You
think, indeed you are sure
(and again, on thinking it
well over, not quite so sure),
that the adorable Rose
looked kindly upon you as
she said good-night, and
allowed her pretty little
hand to linger in your own
while you assured her that
to-morrow you would get
for her the pinion-feather
of a woodcock, or die in the
attempt. You are now
arrayed in your smoking-
coat (the black with the
red silk-facings), and your
velvet slippers with your
initials worked in gold —
a birthday present from
your sister. All the rest
are, _ each_ after his own
fashion, similarly attired,

and the whole male party ' " "

is gathered together in the smoking-room. There you sit and smoke
and chat until the witching hour of night, when everybody yawns
and grave men, as well as gay, go up to their beds.

Now, since you are an unassuming youngster, and anxious to learn,
you ask me probably, how you are to bear yourself in this important
assembly, what you are to speak about, and how ? The chief thing,
I answer, is not to be a bore. It is so easy not to be a bore if only
you give a little thought to it._ Nobody wants to be a bore. I cannot
imagine any man consciously incurring the execration of his fellow-
men. And yet there exist innumerable bores scattered through the
length and breadth of our happy country, and carrying on their
dismal business with an almost malignant persistency. Longwinded-
ness, pomposity, the exaggeration of petty trivialities, the irresistible
desire to magnify one's own wretched little achievements, to pose as

QUITE UNPARDONABLE.

Assistant (in his most insinuating manner). "In yotjk case, Madam, I should

certainly consider FAST colours most suitable." RESULT !

our powers of resistance
faded away to the vanish-
ing < point. Both bores
sallied out from their ram-
parts, laid our little pos-
sessions waste, and led,
each his tale of captives
back with him, gagged,
bound, and incapable of
struggle.

So next day, when the accus-
tomed train
Of things grew round our sense
again,

we agreed together, those
of us, I mean, who had suf-
fered on the previous night,
that something must be
done. What it was to be
we could not at first decide.
We should have preferred
'' something lingering, with
boiling oil in it," but at last
we decided on the brilliant
suggestion of Shabrack,
who was of the party, that
we should endeavour by
some means or other to
bring the two bores, as it
were, face to face in a kind
of boring-competition in
the smoking-room that very
night, to engage them in
warfare against one ano-
ther and ourselves to sit
by and watch them mu-
tually extinguishing ono
another ; a result that, we
were certain, could not fail
to be brought about, owing
to the deadly nature of the
weapons with which each
was provided. Both the
bores, I may observe, shot
execrably during the day.
In the evening, after a
short preliminary skirmish,
from which Shabrack the
hussar extricated us with
but little loss, that which
we desired came to pass.
It was a terrible spectacle.
In a moment both these
magnificent animals, their
bristles erect, and all their
tusks flashing fiercely in
the lamp-light, were locked
inthedeath-grapple. Every
detail of the memorable
struggle is indelibly burnt
into my brain. Even at this distance of time, I can remember
how we all looked on, silent, awestruck, fascinated, as the dreadful
fight proceeded to its inevitable close. For the benefit of others, let
me attempt to describe it in the appropriate language of the Ring.

Great Fight Between the Kentish Peoser and the
Hampshire Dullard.

Round I.—Both men advanced, confident, but cautious. After
sparring for an opening, the Proser landed lightly on the jaw
with,—"When the Duke of Dashburx did me the honour to ask
me to his Grace's noble deer-forest." He ducked to avoid the
return, but the Hampshire Champion would not be denied, and
placed two heavy fish-stories fair in the bread-basket. The Proser
swung round a vicious right-hander anecdote about a stag shot