Punch, or The London Charivari | Page 9

"Rule Britannia! Blass the Prince of WAILES! O Maman!" and before I have lit my after-dinner cigar, he has made himself quite comfortable, lying at full length, and is fast asleep. So am I soon. When I awake, it is night; pitch-dark, and very cold. We are stopping at some station. A stout Frenchman enters our carriage; not that there is anything remarkable about his stoutness, as it seems to me that the majority of middle-class and middle-aged Frenchmen, and Frenchwomen, too, are all, more or less, of considerable corpulence.
[Illustration]
The new arrival recognises DAUBINET, and salutes him. DAUBINET warmly acknowledges the recognition, and in a few moments they are engaged in an animated conversation, one commencing his reply before the other has finished his question, neither permitting the other to complete a sentence, whether interrogatory or declaratory; so that, during the greater part of their conversation,--which lasts till, thank goodness, the stranger has to get out, which he does at the next station, and disappears in the darkness,--I can only pick up a word or half a sentence here and there, and, in a general way, wonder why they become so earnest and emphatic about the most ordinary topics. For an English listener, however, it is an excellent lesson in colloquial French; only I cannot help wishing that they would take the "_tempo_" just a little slower, and that their tone were not necessarily up to concert pitch, in order to keep itself well above the running accompaniment of railway-wheels, which seems to fit all modes of counting from two to sixteen in a bar. At last the train stops, the dialogue becomes jerky, our companion salutes us politely, wishes us "_bon voyage_" and descends.
After his departure, I ask DAUBINET, "Who is your friend?" as I should like to know the reason of DAUBINET not having introduced us. His reply at once resolves all my doubts and difficulties on the subject; it is simply, "Heaven knows! He is a nice fellow. I have met him _quelque part. Ah! v'là!_" He rushes to the window. "Hi! hi! Guard! Conducteur!" The Conducteur appears, and informs us that we descend at the next station, and, after that, in another five minutes we shall be at Reims.
And so we are. Reims at last! Not brilliant is Reims on this dark night. There are several omnibuses and other vehicles waiting to take the very few passengers who alight from the train, and who, it appears, as a rule, prefer to walk. Having no baggage beyond a few bags and a small portmanteau which travel with us in our compartment, and which the porter can wheel on a truck, or indeed carry if he chooses, we are soon in the 'bus, and rattling over the stones to the Hotel.
* * * * *
[Illustration: "NEB'LAR (HIC) 'POTHESIS."
Elderly Gentleman (_overcome by gravitation_). "'ORRIGHT, INSPECTRUM. BEEN READING SPEESH--PRES'DENT BRI'SH-SOSHIASHLEM. SHPLENDID SPEESH! I'M IN 'UNIQUE POSISHN 'F (HIC) ABSOLUTE IMM'BILITY IN MIDSHT OF WHIRLING 'N DRIFTING SUNS, 'N SYSHTEMS 'F SUNS.' GOOD OLD HUGGINS!!"]
* * * * *
ODE TO A BAROMETER.
(_BY A TROUBLED TAPSTER._)
I tap you early, tap you late, In vain! We get--whatever you may state-- Much rain. The Woodpecker of which fools sing Ne'er tapped Half so persistently. Since Spring I've rapped Your fair false dial day by day, And yet The end--whatever you may say Is wet! 'Twas wet in June, and in July Wet too; In August it is wetter. Why, Trust _you_? Barometer, you false old chap, You bore! I'm no Woodpecker, and I'll tap No more!
* * * * *
"NOTHING IN THE PAPERS!"
_OR, VOLUNTARY CONTRIBUTIONS UN-GRATEFULLY RECEIVED._
SCENE--_A Railway Compartment. BROWN and SMITH _looking up from their Daily Papers._
Brown. Now that Parliament stands prorogued, I suppose there is nothing to read?
Smith. Nothing. Except this article upon Australia. Tells one all about Capital and Labour in that part of the world. Most interesting. Wonder how they found room for it! Have you seen it?
Brown. Well, no. Fact is I have been reading about Argentina. Very exhaustive article this, and on a matter of serious moment. I hold some shares as a trustee. Seems that they will all come right in the end. Would you like to see it?
Smith. When I have time to read it. But, to tell the truth, it takes me a good hour to get through the City Intelligence. And the racing, too, that always interests me; but I don't think it is so exciting as the Stock Exchange.
Brown. No more do I. By the way, is there anything good in the correspondence line in your paper?
Smith. The usual sensational recess subjects. Some of the letters are too good for the general public; they must have been written in the office.
Brown. I daresay. And perhaps these sketches of places away from Town are