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قراءة كتاب Punch, or the London Charivari, Volume 99, October 4, 1890
تنويه: تعرض هنا نبذة من اول ١٠ صفحات فقط من الكتاب الالكتروني، لقراءة الكتاب كاملا اضغط على الزر “اشتر الآن"
Punch, or the London Charivari, Volume 99, October 4, 1890
their note-books, and went home; and all the time I couldn't move, because my arms were stuck tight in a coat two sizes too small for me.
CHAPTER III.
The Slavey managed—
[No, thank you. No more.—ED.]
His Reverence. "DINNER, 7:30. I'LL GIVE YOU A QUARTER OF AN HOUR'S GRACE!"
His Irreverence. "THEN COMMENCE AT 7:30, AND I'LL BE THERE AT 7:45!"
FAVOURITE TOOL OF RAILWAY COMPANIES.—A Screw-Driver!
"C'EST MAGNIFIQUE! MAIS—"
Mr. Bull (Paymaster). "WELL, WHAT DO YOU THINK OF IT?"
Mr. Punch (Umpire-in Chief). "FINE RIDER—FINE HORSE! BUT—AS A CAVALRY SOLDIER—HAS TO LEARN HIS BUSINESS!"
["How then about the British Cavalry of September, 1890? A spectator who has taken part in modern regular war, and has watched the manoeuvres, said one day to me when I accosted him, in an apologetic tone, 'I have hitherto done your Army injustice, I will not do so again; I had no idea how well your officers and your troopers ride,—they are very fine horsemen.' There he stopped; I waited for more, but he had ended; his silence was a crushing criticism, unintentionally too severe, but very true.... I assert, therefore, that at this moment, our Cavalry is inefficient, and not prepared for war."—The Times Military Correspondent.]
Air—"Tally-Ho!" (from the Balliol Song-Book.)
"Of all the recreations with which mortal man is blest"
(Says BALLIOL's Song) "fox-hunting still is pleasantest and best."
A Briton in the saddle is a picture, and our pride,
In scarlet or in uniform at least our lads can ride.
Away, away they go,
With a tally, tally-ho!
With a tally, tally, tally, tally, tally, tally-ho!
But riding, for our Cavalry, is, after all, not all.
To lead the field, to leap a fence, to bravely face a fall,
Are well enough. And first-rate stuff from the hunting-field may come,
But something more is wanted when Bellona beats her drum,
And calls our lads to go,
With a rally, rally-ho! &c.
Good men and rattling horses are not all that England needs;
She wants sound knowledge in the men, and training in the steeds.
Scouting and reconnaissance are not needed for the fox,
Nor "leading in big masses" for the furious final shocks,
When away the troopers go,
With a rally, rally, ho! &c.
But when a squadron charges on the real field of war,
Courage and a good seat alone will not go very far;
Our lads must "know their business," and their officers must "lead,"
Not with cross-country dash alone, but skill and prudent heed,
When away the troopers go,
With a rally, rally, ho! &c.
War's field will test the Cavalry, or clad in blue or red;
In all things they must "thorough" be, as well as thorough-bred.
"Heavy" or "light," they'll have to fight; not such mad, headlong fray,
As marked for fame with pride—and shame—that Balaklava day,
When away our lads did go,
With a rally, rally, ho! &c.
Eh? "Inefficient," Mr. BULL, "and not prepared for war?"
That judgment, if 'tis near the truth, on patriot souls must jar.
And Mr. Punch (Umpire-in-Chief) to JOHN (Paymaster), cries,
"You'll have to test the truth of this before the need arise
For our lads away to go.
With a rally, rally-ho!" &c
And since that Soldier's incomplete for Duty unprepared,
Although he's game to dare the worst that ever Briton dared,
To supplement our trooper's skill in saddle, pluck and dash,
You must have more manoeuvres, JOHN, and—if needs be,—more cash!
Then away away we'll go
With a tally rally-ho!
And never be afraid to face the strongest, fiercest foe.
Journalism in France. Journalism in England.
(A Contrast.)
HAD HE SUCCEEDED!
(A Possible Page in French History that probably will never be written.)
The General-President had been established at the Elysée for some three months, when his aides-de-camp found their labours considerably increased. At all hours of the day and night they were called up to receive persons who desired an interview with their chief and master. As they had received strict orders from His Highness never to appear in anything but full uniform (cloth of gold tunics, silver-tissue trousers, and belts and epaulettes of diamonds) they spent most of their time in changing their costume.
"I am here to see anyone and everyone," said His Highness; "but I look to you, Gentlemen of the Ring, I should say Household, to see that I am disturbed by only those who have the right of entrée. And now, houp-là! You can go."
Thus dismissed, the unfortunate aides-de-camp could but bow, and retire in silence. But, though they gave no utterance to their thoughts, their reflections were of a painful character. They felt what with five reviews a day, to say nothing of what might be termed scenes in the circle (attendances at the Bois, dances at the Hôtel de Ville, and the like), their entire exhaustion was only a question of weeks, or even days.
One morning the General-President, weary of interviews, was about to retire into his salle-à-manger, there to discuss the twenty-five courses of his simple déjeuner à la fourchette, when he was stopped by a person in a garb more remarkable for its eccentricity than its richness. This person wore a coat with tails a yard long, enormous boots, a battered hat, and a red wig. A close observer would have doubted whether his nose was real or artificial. The strangely-garbed intruder bowed grotesquely.
"What do you want with me?" asked the General-President, sharply. "Do you not know I am busy?"
"Not too busy to see me," retorted the unwelcome guest, striking up a lively tune upon a banjo which he had concealed about his person while passing the Palace Guard, but which he now produced. "I pray you step with me a measure."
Thus courteously invited, His Highness could but comply, and for some ten minutes host and guest indulged in a breakdown.
"And now, what do you want with me?" asked the General-President when the dance had been brought to a satisfactory conclusion.
"My reward," was the prompt reply.
"Reward!" echoed His Highness. "Why, my good friend, I have refused a Royal Duke, an Imperial Prince, a Powerful Order, and any number of individuals, who have made a like demand."
"Ah! but they did not do so much