Punch, Or The London Charivari | Page 9

fading dream? Are
salutations what they seem?
Is BROWN some Altruist in disguise, And JONES an Ibsenite likewise,
That thus they flop and agonise?--
Or are the pair affected fools, Who catch by rote the silly rules Of
third-rate fashionable schools?
* * * * *
COURT COLD!
(_A PAGE FROM THE DIARY OF A CHAPERON._)
They commanded her to rise early. She knew that the day's doings

would be a terrible ordeal, but she came of a bold and sturdy race, and
felt herself equal to any emergency. And so as the morning broke--as
daylight crept through the foggy air--she prepared for the sacrifice. Yes,
sacrifice; for was it not a sacrifice to barter away youth, pride, nay, life
itself! And I had a hand in the matter! Ah, me--but away with vain
regret!
I have been told since that they were hours and hours arranging her
toilette. So long did it take that she was scarcely able to break her fast.
She had, I believe, a cup of tea, and if rumour is to be credited, a couple
of slices of thin bread-and-butter! Well, it is over now, and I can think
of it almost without tears!
I called for her shortly after noon--for the lot had fallen upon me, and I
was destined to attend her to her doom--she was very calm, and even
smiled as I kissed her. She shivered a little as she sank beside me. I
bade her to wrap her shawl more closely around her, and after she had
complied with my command she seemed more at ease.
And now our conveyance had come to a full stop. We were surrounded
by a sea of vulgar, hideous faces, grinning and mocking at us! My
charge clung to me for protection. The laughter and the jeers increased
tenfold. Then I cast her away from me roughly, whereupon followed
yells mixed with savage laughter. She, poor girl, regained her
composure, and gazed at the multitude with the dignity of an outraged
queen. And they laughed the more! Laughed the more!
At length we were set free, and made our way to a large apartment,
where we were divested of our wraps, and left in costumes better
adapted to late June than to early March, or mid-December. We were
then ordered to advance. We were driven from one bitterly cold room
to another, until we knew not whether the blood was circulating in our
veins, or had frozen. We had many fellow-sufferers, and these poor
creatures pushed against us, and fought with us. The great object of
everyone was to get to the end of our journey!
She staggered bravely along, until at last they took away the yards of
satin she carried round her arm, and spread it out behind. Then her

name was uttered, or, rather, mispronounced. She sank on her knees;
and, on regaining her feet, was hustled away, to follow a number of
fellow-victims who had been treated with like indignity.
Once more there was the bitter cold. This time the draughts were met in
that hall, and endured, until the conveyance arrived to move us on--she
to stand for a couple of hours amidst gossiping friends, and I to go to
bed.
But the seeds of death were sown! She never recovered the shock, and
an addition to the inscriptions above the family-vault tells of her early
decease!
And who was this poor girl? A homeless one, wandering the streets of
London? or a political prisoner, on her way to Siberia? Neither! She
was merely a _débutante_, attending her first (and last) Spring
Drawing-room at Buckingham Palace!
* * * * *
NOTE (_by Our Own Noodle_).--Father Buonaparte, at the Olympic,
judging from the account of it in the Times, seems to consist of "a part"
for our WILSON BARRETT, the remainder being skeletonish, or
"boney."
* * * * *
[Illustration: "MATTHEWS AT HOME." (NEW VERSION OF AN
OLD ENTERTAINMENT.)]
* * * * *
RAIKES REX!
Somebody once said that ultimately the Solar System would probably
become a branch of the General Post Office. The present
Postmaster-General is obviously of opinion that that state of things has
already come about.

To rule a realm as limitless as space, With the great G.P.O. as Central
Sun, RAIKES is the man. Of Great Panjandrum race, He's Autocrat and
Oracle in one. The Universe indeed were no great shakes Without
RAIKES Rex for Ruler. Vivat RAIKES!!!
* * * * *
ESSENCE OF PARLIAMENT.
EXTRACTED FROM THE DIARY OF TOBY, M.P.
_House of Commons, Monday, March_ 16.--House of Commons really
looked to-night as if it meant fighting. No lack of matter for quarrel.
Even before public business was reached, Orders bristled with Motions
raising controversial points. Lord CHUNNEL-TANNEL, that man of
peace, was to the