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JANUARY 8, 1870.]

PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.

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MORE HAPPY THOUGHTS.

T THE RAILWAY STATION, ANTWERP, en route for Aix.- and don't speak like les vrais Parisiens. (When in Paris I can look

AT L, en 4ital.fow that Belgium and Germany have spoilt my accent

My ear not having, become accustomed to rapidly-spoken French satisfactory.)
(by-the-way, I wonder how a Frenchman ever masters the names of
our stations as called out by the porters!) I am unable to grasp the
exact sum demanded of me for my ticket.

Happy Thought.-Put down a Napoleon, and see what change comes

out of it.

Clerk doesn't take it, but says something more rapidly in French.
Happy Thought.-Say bien, and put down another Napoleon.

I am not able to count the change, owing to being pushed away by an excited person behind, and led off, at once, by an intelligent porter to get my luggage weighed, for which I have to pay almost as much as for myself.

I suddenly come upon DYNGWELL in a smoking carriage. We are the only two-the Captain and myself-out of our original party, going to Aix. He informs me that CHILVERN received some money this morning from London. End of CHILVERN.

We cross the frontier, and suddenly hear nothing but German. Very start if one went from Kent to Sussex (from Tunbridge Wells to strange this at first. DYNGWELL thinks it would be a rum sort of a Bridges Station. DYNGWELL, I note, has more in him than meets Brighton, for instance) and didn't understand the language at Three the eye.

Aix at last. When you get there it is called Aachen. DYNGWELL explains this happily; he says a Frenchman expects to find Londres, and it turns out to be London.

First Observation in Note-Book.-Strasse means street. Mem. Will Happy Thought.-Then there's a Theater here. learn German while here. We descend the broad Theater-Strasse.

Examination of Baggage.-Questions in German: answer in dumb show, like a pantomime. We have too much luggage for one trap, so Captain goes on alone. He calls his coachman a Cockalorum, and the man touches his hat. I feel somehow desolate: wish I hadn't come. the rash, and my mother-in-law at Brighton. Wish I'd gone with Everything looks dreary. I think of FRIDOLINE, and the baby with I make a point of asking the guard at every station, whether we them. But as I have come all this way to find out whether I've got change here. Nothing like being certain. DYNGWELL wants to know latent rheumatic gout anywhere about me or not, I am determined to how long we wait at Liège. I advise him (knowing his peculiar go through the ordeal, whatever it may be. I am put into a flyFrench) to ask the Guard. The result is that the Captain addresses such a machine! Three miles an hour, and an unwashed coachman him thus: "Hi, Old Cockalorum, do we stop the waggon here, eh?" in a glazed hat. Destination, L'Hotel du Grand Monarque. Sounds well. Cockalorum returns some answer, and DYNGWELL asks me what he said. I interpret it as, "We hardly stop here five minutes." The result is, in point of fact, that we don't go on again for nearly half an hour. After ten minutes DYNGWELL decides upon going to the buffet. He immediately asks for bitter beer loudly, and gets it at once. I can't make up my mind whether it's more Continental to take coffee and a cigarette, or vin ordinaire and some roast chicken. I have decided upon the former, and am trying to attract a garçon, when DYNGWELL says, "time's up: the bulgine's on again." Bulgine with him means "Engine;" but I somehow fancy that he imagines it to be French. I remark that everyone (with the exception of such Cockalorums as the Guard, who rather stands on the dignity of his uniform, I imagine) understands the Captain's English, while they don't seem to get on very well with my French. DYNGWELL notices this too.

Happy Thought.-To explain it to him thus, that these are Belgians,

VOL. LVIII.

B

We pass a large hotel-we pass a colonnade. More hotels-plenty of people about: nearly all, apparently, English.

Second Observation. That at the first glance Aix has a highly respectable appearance, but not gay.

The Hotel at last: courtyard as usual-very fine place. Like a courtyard. I descend: a bell rings-sort of alarm of visitors. More bells. Two porters, an under-waiter, a head-waiter (evidently, though more like a Low-Church Curate in an open waistcoat), and in the distance on the stairs two chambermaids come out to receive me. Foresee donations to all these when I leave.

Happy Thought.-Commence in French (French carries you everywhere) Je désire une chambre au seconde, et—

Immediate Reply of the Low-Church Curate.-"Yes, Sir, if you'll step up this way, I will show you." Very annoying. If you want to speak another language than your own, merely for practice, they won't let you.

The Head-Waiter insists upon my taking rooms on the first instead of the second floor, as the season is just ending, and it will be all the same. He leaves me, and enter the Chambermaid. She smiles, and addresses me in her own native tongue-German. She is asking me, 1, imagine, from her thumping the bed and then putting a question, whether 1 am going to bed now. Good gracious, it's only five o'clock.

Happy Thought-Nein.

This I fancy sounds rough, so I soften it off with Merci. She is now putting another question, this time with a jug in her hand. Evidently, will I have some water. I distinguish the word wasser.

Happy Thought.-Yah-adding with a smile, "s'il vous plaît." Another question from her. Wasser again, but this time she mentions Hicewasser. Iced-Water? Nein, on no account, merci, thank you. But I should like some-some-(I want to say warm water for my hands). Why isn't there one universal language, say, English?

Happiest Thought.-To say Warm Wasser. She is intelligent, p'raps she's heard Englishmen try this before, for she replies laughing goodnaturedly (as if I had said something not quite proper, but which she would look over as only attributable to my ignorance of the language) "Varm-vasser."

Happy Thought.-"Oui, I mean yes, Yah, Varm-vasser." leaves me.

She

Note.-It's a great thing to have the command of a language. Within half an hour of my arrival I have mastered three words. Strasse is street, Wasser is water, Warm is warm; and I establish one rule, that "w" is pronounced like “v.".

I recollect, when travelling a long time ago, that Yahzo means a good deal. Try it presently, and watch the result.

After unpacking, go out and examine the town. Although I've never been here in my life, I seem to have seen it all before, somewhere. Excellent shops: large restaurant. No out-of-door seats and tables. Those who are not English are in uniform, at least so it seems at first. Men in uniform are wheeling barrows, men in uniform are driving carts, men in uniform are saluting superior uniforms with epaulettes. To the English eye the town appears to be garrisoned by our postmen. Becoming accustomed to them, you gradually pick out the officers. Everybody is smoking, except the ladies, of course. The

toilettes here are not remarkable.

In the Theater-Strasse an enormous building is guarded by a very small sentry. Think the building is a bank, or a post-office. He (the small sentry) carries a big gun in a slouching way, and occasionally stops to look at nothing in particular, with one hand in his pocket. Servant-maids walk about like the Parisian grisettes in clean-looking caps, generally carrying a basket, and an umbrella. Umbrellas are popular. I meet a large sprinkling of the clerical element in chimney-pot hats with narrow brims. The Don Basilio type is not here. Sisters of Charity (also with baskets and umbrellas) in plenty, all looking particularly cheerful and happy. In the window of a bookseller's shop I see a Manual of Conversation in Four Languages.

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I write it down. Head-Waiter smiles, "Ab," he says, "I know it well." I am flattered. "Indeed?" I return, thinking of DYNGWELL. It's rather nice of DYNGWELL if he has done this; I really did not imagine he had such an appreciation of literature. "Yes," the Head-Waiter continues, with his peculiar accent, "I remember him well in London, in 'Olborn. Name well known. I am glad to see you here, Sir."

I don't live in Holborn, and I never had any association with the place. Is it possible that my intention of publishing has got about, and that even this waiter-No, it can't be. He goes on to explain. I find that he has mistaken the spelling, and has confounded me (confound him) with a Large Cheap Tailor's Establishment. Annoying, but lucky I discover it in time."

A Dove in Duck's Plumage.

THE Continental papers call the hoax_asserting that France had proposed a general disarmament of the European Powers, the "disarmament canard." Should not canard be colombe?

THE BEST NOTE PAPER.-Bank of England.

CHRISTMAS KEEPING AND CHRISTMAS
BREAKING.

"The whole of Tuesday was occupied at the different Police Courts in investigating the usual drunk and disorderly' charges arising out of Christmas and Boxing-Day festivities."-Newspaper paragraph, kept stereotyped. "CHRISTMAS Comes but once a year," So by all means let us be jolly, Over turkey and beef and plum-pudding, Mince-pies, mistletoe, and holly, Poor relations and family dinners,

"

And schoolboys' holiday folly.

Let's indulge our children with Pantomimes-
Till common sense destroy them-
Christmas sweetmeats and Christmas sentiment,-
In the hope that neither may cloy them :
Christmas bills, and Christmas boxes,
Let's endure, if we can't enjoy them.

But oh, Pater and Mater Familias-
Above all, P. and M. of "the masses,"-
Whom to flatter sky-high Southwark candidates vie,--
Not "working," but "lower" classes!

Say, why at this season your boasted reason
Into swinish un-reason passes?

In the name of Modern Enlightenment,
Franchise, and Education,

Oh, broad-spread base of the pyramid,
Oh, brawn and thews of the nation,
Why, on Tuesday after Boxing-Day,
This flood of intoxication?

Can it be that the Slough of Despond

Not narrowed, but broader and broader lies,
Where the angel that lives with the brute in us,
On the wrong side the brute's border lies,
That last Tuesday's English Police Courts
Were gorged with "Drunk and disorderlies "
Shall Punch smooth down the working-men
With the soft-soap of hustings' hypocrisy?
Shall he hail them as the ideal

Of Pure and Progressive Democracy?
The best model and example

For a "Bloated Aristocracy"? No-he positively can't do it,

In the face of the facts about him : With their Christmas carols still ringing In Police charge-sheets to flout him; If he did, they'd be the first,

They know they would, to scout him.

We ought all to be ashamed of ourselves,
High and low, and gentle and simple :
While the face of our civilisation

Is foul with grog-blossom and pimple,
And our Christmas cheer is a curse and a leer,
Instead of a prayer and a dimple.

OUR GROWING METROPOLIS.

”:

MEN who live in London are often heard complaining of the labour that they have to bear when paying country visits. What is called County Society" is in very many cases so scattered and remote, that one must drive a dozen miles or so to meet a dozen people, and the chance is, after all, that one has a dismal dinner. But in London even something of the same kind is experienced, and we easily may prophesy, by looking at this estimate, how much in half a century the nuisance will increase :

"It is assumed that in thirty-nine years hence nearly fifty square miles of now open country about the Metropolis will be covered with houses for the accommodation of the then population."

Besides the trouble and annoyance of visiting one's friends when they choose to live in suburbs about fifty miles away from one, there is the added nuisance foreshadowed by this estimate that in a few years hence no Londoner can dream of taking country exercise, or of getting air to breathe which will be anything like fresh. At present there are walks within a reasonable distance, through fields and lanes which are not blackened yet by smoke. But in a score or so of years one will have to travel a score or so of miles before one will be able to look at a green hedge. Houses, houses every where will be then the rule, and not a spot to walk on except the noisy streets.

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CRAMMING AT HOME AND AT SCHOOL. MR. PUNCH,

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THE Christmas Holidays may be described, not untruly, as a season of cramming. The season of cramming it cannot so truly be called, because there are other seasons of cramming. The school-days each half," are seasons of cramming equally with the Christmas Holidays. Only, whereas the latter constitute a season of cramming for the stomach, the former are seasons in which the mind is wont to be crammed.

The effects of cramming the stomach, Sir, are bad enough; but the stomach, Mr. Punch, can, in a measure, take care of itself. It can put in force an Alien Act, provided by Nature for the expulsion of matters which affect it in the relation of hostile foreign bodies. But the mind is unable to deal with undigested and indigestible facts as the stomach deals with greasy plum-pudding, mince-pies, twelfth-cake, and the rest of all the unwholesome varieties of Christmas fare. It may fail, indeed, to retain them, but it does not, in rejecting them, expel their effects. For you cram the mind through the brain, and in so doing overwork the brain. Pardon me, Sir. Not you. They-the

crammers.

Moreover, the youthful stomach, if not too young, will stand much more cramming, in proportion, than the brain which it recruits with nourishment. A full-grown school-boy will eat more with impunity, for the present at least, than your friend, MR. ALDERMAN, who is overgrown. But the boy's brain is in a less finished state than his stomach; is not yet developed is tender, irritable, unequal to hard work. Accordingly, Mr. Punch, you have seen it stated, on good authority, that " one, at least, of the candidates at the last examination at Woolwich has been prostrated by a brain fever," and that another has died since the examination commenced, his death having been probably "accelerated, if not indirectly caused, by the severe mental strain which he had undergone in cramming up for the numerous subjects it has been thought necessary for candidates to get up.' For a sprained ankle or strained muscles there are opodeldoc and arnica, Sir; but what liniment or lotion can you or any other Physician prescribe for a mental strain? Blue-pill and black reviver, and so forth, may remedy the effects of a surfeit; but "what rhubarb, senna, or what" similar "drug" (as a reader of SHAKSPEARE would say to a nice audience) will cure brain fever brought on by repletion of the mind?

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By the way, SHAKSPEARE was never crammed. MILTON was never crammed. BACON, NEWTON, DAVY, FARADAY, were never crammed. You were never crammed, Sir. What great poet or philosopher have we that has been crammed? Are we likely to have one when everybody shall have been crammed? And is it not credible that some of the greatest men the world has ever known, would have been plucked if they had had to pass a competitive examination? Then, Mr. Punch, the world would have known still less of its greatest men than the little which, as you know, it knows now.

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THE RAILWAY BLOCKHEAD

SYSTEM.

UNDER the appropriate heading of "Railway Intelligence," we see it announced that— "The Midland Railway will in future be worked on the block system."

The block system ensures well nigh perfect safety from collisions, and is therefore vastly preferable to the stupid blockhead system which upon most railways has hitherto prevailed. The blockhead system has consisted in cutting down expenses to the very lowest point, and trusting to good fortune for escaping from bad accidents. The signals most in vogue upon the blockhead system have been signal inefficiency and signal want of common sense. Guards and drivers have been overworked, and pointsmen tired to death, and then accidents have happened and heavy damages have been paid. False economy has been the rule upon the blockhead system, and good dividends the exception, if the accounts have not been cooked."

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Montaigne and Ultra-Montane. MONTAIGNE'S Essays have often had the honour of translation, and now Ultra-Montane's essays are about to receive the same honour, by the translation of ARCHBISHOP MANNING to the Cardinalate.

Tell Education-Councillors and Committee-men, Sir, that it may be worth their while to consider whether genius or mediocrity would be likely to gain the greater number of marks by answering the kind of questions proposed by ordinary examiners? Also whether high powers of thought are not absolutely unfavourable to that exertion of the merely acquisitive memory imposed by the cramming system. But I must not cram your attention with philosophy which you need not to be taught; and whereof, especially in the presence of the pantomimes, a little goes a great way with many people who mostly do not think like you, Mr. Punch, and perhaps think even less than your humble correspondent, EARLSWOOD.

P.S. Many Happy New Years.

MORE NEW THEATRES !

OLD fogies often talk of the decline of the drama, and say that nobody cares nowadays to spend an evening at the theatre. But somebody must entertain a different opinion, or we should not find put forward such intelligence as this :

"NEW THEATRES.-In addition to the theatre now building in the Strand, we hear the Coliseum will be opened as an opera, and be connected with the Metropolitan Railway. A theatre and winter-garden will shortly be constructed on the site of Savile House, and we believe that a new theatre is in progress of erection in Sloane Square, to meet the wants dramatic of the playgoers in Belgravia."

music-halls where performers, of some sort, come nightly on the stage. There are over thirty theatres open now in London, and over forty Yet Belgravia "wants" a theatre, at least so we are informed, and Leicester Square another, at least so we may infer that the designer doubtless thinks. Well, the more the merrier-at any rate we will hope so. But as for this place or the other "wanting" a new playhouse, convenient to itself, we fear such multiplication may prove to be vexation, not merely to the managers but the playgoers as well. Centralise your actors, and you get your plays well acted, and your theatres will pay: but if you scatter them about in Brixton and Belgravia, in Kensington and Kennington, in Hampstead and in Houndsditch, your stars will be dispersed, and haply cease to shine, and your taste for things theatrical will daily grow debased.

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THERE will be the usual number of seasons, five-Spring, Summer, Autumn, Winter, and the London; and probably an extra one at the Opera.

Peace will be generally maintained, but there will be engagements in all quarters of the world.

The QUEEN's Speech will contain some queer Queen's English. The Irish Land Question will either be settled or fall to the ground. DR. TEMPLE will turn out the best Bishop they've ever had in the West.

Any theatre having a successful piece, will do well in the long run. The EMPEROR OF THE FRENCH will have a new set of studs and a new set of ministers.

Oysters will be sixpence a piece, and the natives in New Zealand troublesome.

MACAULAY'S New Zealander, MOLIÈRE'S Frenchman who had been talking prose all his life without knowing it, SYDNEY SMITH'S bishop who has yet to be roasted alive in a railway carriage, MRS. GRUNDY, MRS. PARTINGTON, with her mop, the British Lion and Constitution, and other old friends, will be all about again and get into the papers. The camp at Wimbledon will be bigger than ever, the cattle at the Cattle Show fatter than ever, the streets of London dirtier than ever, the Christmas pantomimes more gorgeous than ever, the feminine fashions more wonderful than ever, the Boat Race, the Derby, and the Royal Academy, more crowded than ever, the girls prettier than everand Mr. Punch wittier than ever.

The Vatican and Fleet Street.

SEVERAL Correspondents have written to ask what "The Congregation of the Index," is which they have lately seen mentioned in the papers. There are two, one abroad at Rome, the other at home; the latter consisting of the collection of persons who have the honour to be found in the Index to each of Mr. Punch's Volumes.

THE ENDS OF JUSTICE.-A Cat-o'-Nine-Tails.

THE CORRECTED EDITION OF THE HON. HAMILTON

FISH'S DESPATCHES.

FISH's statement but fishy
Uncle SAM must confess,
If read after leaving

The Clarendon Press.

In claims, dates, facts and figures Set right, without quarter,

Let him own that H. F.

Is a Fish out of Water!

SUPERFLUOUS COMMISSIONS.

WE read that the Fathers of the Council have been called upon to elect four Commissioners to deal with questions of

1st. Dogma.

2nd. Discipline.

3rd. The Regular Orders. 4th. Oriental Rites.

What can the Council want with Commissioners to deal with these questions, seeing that as to

1st. Dogma, there can be no question, inasmuch as there is but one dogma to be insisted upon which includes all others-Infallibility.

2nd. As to Discipline. There can be no question about this, seeing that the discipline required need but be the strictest possible to ensure that no members of the Council claims or exercises a will of his own.

3rd. The Regular Orders. There can be no question about thisso long as the only regular orders for the members of the Council are, to open their ears and shut their eyes, and take what the POPE shall send them.

4th. Oriental Rites.-There can be no question about this, inasmuch as in presence of the POPE, there are, for all other members of the Council, or the Church, no Oriental rights, or Occidental rights either.

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