Punch, Or The London Charivari | Page 5

he considers his _chef d'oeuvre_ as an imitation of a genuine Cockney tone, to which it bears exactly such resemblance as does a scene of ordinary London life drawn by a French artist. Then he says, seriously--"_Eh bien! allons! C'est fix��_--it is fixed. We meet Victoria, _et alors, par_ London, Chatham & Dover, from Reims _via_ Calais, _tr��s bien,--train d'onze heures pr��cises,--bien entendu. J'y suis. Ihr Diener! Adios! A reverderla! Addio, amico caro!_" Then he utters something which is between a sneeze and a growl, supposed to be a term of endearment in the Russian tongue. Finally he says in English, "Good-bye!"
His hat is on in a jiffy (which I take to be the hundredth part of a second) and he is down the stairs into the hall, and out at the door "like a flying light comedian" with an airy "go" about him, which recalls to my mind the running exits of CHARLES WYNDHAM in one of his lightest comedy-parts. "_Au revoir! Pour Jeudi alors!_" I hear him call this out in the hall; the door bangs as if a firework had exploded and blown my vivacious friend up into the air, and he has gone.
"_Jeudi alors_" arrives, and I am at Victoria for the eleven o'clock Express to the minute, having decided that this is the best, shortest, and cheapest holiday I can take. I've never yet travelled with my excellent French friend DAUBINET. I am to be his guest; all responsibility is taken off my shoulders except that of my ticket and luggage, and to travel without responsibility is in itself a novelty. To have to think of nothing and nobody, not even of oneself! Away! away!
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[Illustration]
POLITESSE.--The following version of our great popular Naval Anthem will be issued, it is hoped, from Whitehall (the French being supplied by the Lords of the Admiralty in conjunction) to all the musical Naval Captains in command at Portsmouth. The graceful nature of the intended compliment cannot escape the thickest-headed land-lubber:--
Dirige, Madame la France, Madame la France dirigera les vagues! Messieurs les Fran?ais ne seront jamais, jamais, jamais, Esclaves!
The effect of the above, when the metre is carefully fitted to the tune (which is a work of time), and sung by a choir (with accent) of a thousand British Blue-jackets, will doubtless be quite electrical.
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NOTE BY A TRAVELLING FELLOW FIRST CLASSIC.--There's no passage in any Classical author, Latin or Greek, so difficult as is the passage between Dover and Calais on a rough day, and yet, strange to say, the translation is comparatively easy.
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A PICTURE ON THE LINE.--Sketch taken at the Equator.
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QUITE A LITTLE NOVELTY.
[Illustration: Professor Ginnifer exhibiting Sims' and Buchanan's Monstrosities.]
DEAR MR. PUNCH,--As Englishmen are so often accused of want of originality, I hope you will let me call your attention to an occasion when it was conclusively proved that at least two of the British race were free from the reproach. The date to which I refer was the 1st of August last, when "a new and original drama," entitled _The Trumpet Call_, was produced at the Royal Adelphi Theatre, and the two exceptions to the general rule then proclaimed were Messrs. GEORGE R. SIMS and ROBERT BUCHANAN, its authors. The plot of this truly new and original piece is simple in the extreme. _Cuthbertson_, a young gentleman, has married his wife in the belief that his Wife No. 1 (of whom he has lost sight), is dead. Having thus ceased to be a widower, Cuthbertson is confronted by Wife No. 1 and deserts Wife No. 2. Assured by the villain of the piece that she is not really married to _Cuthbertson_, Wife No. 2 prepares to marry her informant. The nuptials are about to be celebrated in the Chapel Royal, Savoy, when enter Wife No. 1 who explains that she was a married woman when she met _Cuthbertson_, and therefore, a fair, or rather unfair, bigamist. Upon this Cuthbertson (who is conveniently near in a pew, wearing the unpretentious uniform of the Royal Horse Artillery), rushes into the arms of the lady who has erroneously been numbered Wife No. 2, when she has been in reality Wife No. 1, and all is joy. Now I need scarcely point out to you that nothing like this has ever been seen on the stage before. It is a marvel to me how Messrs. SIMS and BUCHANAN came to think of such clever things.
[Illustration: An Altared Scene.]
But if it had been only the plot that was original, I should not have been so anxious to direct attention to The Trumpet Call. But the incidents and characters are equally novel. For instance, unlike _The Lights o' London_, there is a caravan and a showman. Next, unlike