HOME FOR THE HOLIDAYS. HOLIDAYS all over now, and everybody, who is anybody, back again to "So," said I to him, "You didn't enjoy yourself, did you?" "Not a bit," was his reply; whereupon I wished him a very good morning, for I had enjoyed myself in town. Old COVEY, whom I subsequently encountered, began by observing, cheerily, "Very fresh at Brighton. Capital place to stop at: express trains up to Town for business hours: mouthful of air in the morning when you get up, 'nother mouthful of ditto when you get down in the evening." And thus he was running on glibly enough, when I asked him, point blank, if he'd enjoyed his summer's holiday. "Holiday!" he returned, "I haven't had a holiday for years. Can't get away, you know. What with governesses at home, the boys' schooling, and that fellow JOHN's expenses at College, 'pon my word, you know, one must keep on hard at it. I couldn't leave my business, so I said to my wife if we must go, why, better say Brighton; but I can't have you going one way, the family another-JOHN on what he calls a "reading party" (which I won't stand again, and can't afford, besides the money I pay for him at College), and the servants on board-wages. So we went down to Brighton. But I don't call that a holiday, you know." "Then," said I, "You didn't enjoy your summer very much, eh?" "Well, no," he replied, as if he would rather not have made the confession, "I didn't enjoy it very much; no, I didn't-er-" I left him considering the point I had raised. At dinner that day, I have no doubt he was ill-tempered, and went on grumbling at MRS. COVEY about "Brighton," "expenses," ""better have stopped at home," "no one benefited by going," "JOHN extravagant at College," and so forth, until one of his daughters plays the piano, and he goes to sleep in an easy-chair. In the Club I found BODLEY. And where had BODLEY been, eh? Why BODLEY had been to Boulogne. Yes, and why Boulogne ? Because BODLEY always went to Boulogne. And how did BoDLEY like Boulogne this summer? eh? "Spoilt, sir," says BODLEY, "Drunken excursionists supposed to be specimens of Englishmen infested Boulogne. It was so hot you couldn't move out until the evening, and then you didn't care about stirring." Why didn't you go somewhere else? BODLEY replied he knew everywhere else round about; and Paris, out of the season, was worse than London. For my part I suspect BODLEY of impecuniosity. "Besides," said BODLEY, as an afterthought, "I had several visits to pay in England: shooting, and so forth. Always plenty of that." With this he laughed, and nodded, and made as if he was going away, fearing (I know BODLEY) that I should question him concerning these invitations. Pretending that I was bound in the same direction as himself, I took his arm, and inquired pleasantly: "So you've been shooting, eh? Where?" "Well, I always have a general invitation to EDLIN's place every year." (EDLIN's place is in the north, a shooting box; I know it) "and so it's very pleasant; I go when I like." He had no more been shooting than I had, and was now only beating about the bush. "How is EDLIN?" I asked. "Oh," replied BODLEY, "I haven't been down there this time. I've been-I mean-I've-Hi! cab!" It was worth a shilling to get away from me, "I'm sorry I must be off," continued that humbug BODLEY, "but the fact is, I've got a very important engagement, and er-er-" "Good bye, BODLEY," said L, in a melancholy tone, for I was grieved, and could not stop to hear him give a feigned address to the driver. I believe he pretended that he'd made a mistake, gave that cabman sixpence and got out when I'd turned the corner. He hadn't enjoyed himself at all events; and besides, was a disappointed man in regard to invitations. I came across a fellow who'd been out in the Saucy Nautilus, and had sent you his log. He hadn't enjoyed himself, and said so manfully. He thought he might perhaps next year, but that wasn't to my purpose. Before MARSH, a friend of mine in the Temple, went away, he showed me, I recollect, his plans on paper. They, that is he and his bosom friend STYNTER, had mapped out a new route, wouldn't I like to join them, hey? Wasn't it fun? Capital. They gave me a farewell dinner, I remember it as if it was only yesterday, because we dined at a public place, and they had both of 'em forgotten to bring their purses. Unfortunately I hadn't, and I (as their guest, mind you) had to pay the score. Being in high spirits at the prospect of leaving England next morning, they laughed at this proceeding of mine amazingly. I didn't. It turned out too, for I would walk to their lodgings and see the last of them, that in reality they'd only got enough English money to take them beyond the coast, and besides this nothing but circular notes. So they slapped me on the back, jocularly proposed writing me an order on the Bank of the Serpentine, and finally begged to be reminded of their debt when they should return. Of course I said, "Oh, it doesn't matter, never mind," and laughed, but it did matter, and when MARSH told me the other day that he 'd quarrelled with STYNTER at Interlachen, that STYNTER had spoiled everything, that STYNTER wouldn't stick to the programme, that STYNTER would insist upon rushing quickly from place to place, and wouldn't travel comfortably on account of expense, that STYNTER wouldn't drink wine, wouldn't share the bills, and so forth, I say, when I heard this account of their tour, I could not help smilingly supposing that he hadn't enjoyed himself? eh?" "Enjoy myself!" cried MARSH, "I should think not. You can't get on with a fellow like STYNTER. 'Pon my word, I'd rather have stopped at home." And I had stopped at home! Ha! ha! STYNTER gave me a dinner the other day. How he did abuse MARSH! I fancy MARSH was in the right, if either was, because STYNTER only gave me a pint of sherry at dinner, and only proposed wine after dinner on 'condition that I would "manage the bottle all by myself, as he didn't drink anything;" which offer I could not conscientiously accept. SPYER and SPOONLEY visited the coasts of Norfolk and Suffolk. Both say they'll never go there again; and SPOONLEY adds, "Catch him going anywhere with SPYER!" They tell me it was a very expensive trip, and they could have seen more abroad for half the money, Ha! ha ha! I stopped at home! Hooray! I enjoyed myself! I did; and if I didn't as much as I ought to have done, my lot was better than that of these poor fellows. They'll pat me on the back, forsooth, another time, and tell me where they're going, will they? No, they won't. I can refer them to their past summer of Eighteen Sixty-five. However, I must not wander on any longer. But I come to this conclusion: Summer is a delusion; Touring is confusion: The rule of Two (travelling companions) it puzzles you (for the sake of rhyme: and me, too, in reason), and practice (poeticé for arithmetic and money matters generally) drives me mad. Home, Home! sweet, sweet Home! Wherever I wander, I find a lot of places very like Home. HIGH IDEAS OF HIGH ART. EHOLD an example of the language of enthusiasm: "Then, as true BriHonour to whom honour is due. Let us acknowledge what we tons, let us be honest. have taken from our competitors, whilst we strive to surpass them by every legitimate means, and let us invite them to join us in the contemplated meeting-house and club, which should be truly international in its character." This impassioned exhortation is the conclusion of a letter written to the Editor of the Post, by whom do you suppose, reader, and about what? At least, you will probably conclude, by some eminent artist, painter, sculptor, architect, asthetic potter, goldsmith, silversmith, worker in brass or iron, or, peradventure, composer of music. The subject whereon this devotee writes so earnestly you will naturally imagine to be the art of which he is a professor. In painting, sculpture, masonry, ornamental crockery-work, or smithcraft in its highest branches, you will expect to find him some such fanatic, so to speak, as a fanatico per la musica; or perhaps actually a fanatic of the last-named species, nobly, gloriously, music-mad. No, Sir. His glowing appeal terminates with the following mild subscription:"I am, Sir, your obedient Servant, "AN ENGLISH HAIRDRESSER." "Oxford Street, Oct. 28." The art, whose professor writes in the serious and earnest language above copied, is that of clipping, trimming, arranging and frizzling the hair of the human, and especially the female head. The subject of his fervent epistle, dictated by "a sense of international courtesy and English fair-play," is a hairdressers' soirée which had taken place on the previous Thursday evening at the Hanover Square Rooms. That assembly consisted of twelve hairdressers and as many young ladies, each hairdresser appearing with a young lady under his arm. The hairdressers having bowed, and the young ladies curtsied, the latter sat down, and the former proceeded to dress the hair each of each, trying which of them could do it best, to the admiration of the beholders. The "English Hairdresser" writes to deprecate an evidently antiFrench spirit pervading the account given of the formation of the British Hairdressers' Society" which appeared in the Post. He declares, with generous warmth of expression : "Most distinctly do I assert the French artists have been the fathers of the improved taste and skill of the British hairdresser of the present day. Twenty years ago twelve Englishmen could not have been found who could have acquitted themselves as did the heroes of Thursday evening." "Peace to the souls of the heroes!"-in good time, some years hence let us hope; and in the meanwhile may they enjoy the unlimited patronage of the Court and aristocracy, and sell great quantities of oil, bear's grease, marrow, pomatum, Circassian cream, and vegetable extract. The like prosperity befall the "English Hairdresser" who is so solicitous for the due credit, honour, and glory of his French brother artists. And when, at last, Fate's scissors are about to snip the hair that binds him to this block of earth, may he feel himself in a position to utter, mutatis mutandis, the exclamation of the expiring painter, and cry, "We are all going to Heaven, and TRUEFITT is of the party." The respect which the brothers of the brush entertain for their art is paralleled by a corresponding sentiment on the part of the brothers of the hair-brush. Literary men are commonly apt to express a high idea of the dignity of their calling, even if that is only to afford amusement. Perhaps they have taught hairdressers to form a similar estimate of the importance of their profession. THE ADVERTISER'S PARADISE.-Puffin Island. ORDERS FOR MEDICAL OFFICERS! MR. PUNCH, HERE is pretty news for you by telegram from Paris, where cholera has lately, as you are aware, prevailed. It appears that the house surgeons and students at the cholera hospitals have been very assiduous in their attention to the patients in those institutions affected with that malady. Naturally they would be, as young men, desirous of learning their business. Well, Sir, on Monday last week, MARQUIS DE LAVALETTE, Minister of the Interior, accompanied by M. HAUSSMANN, Prefect of the Seine, and M. BOITELLE, Prefect of Police, visited the Hôtel Dieu and the Hospital Beaujon. M. DE LAVALETTE announced that the EMPEROR, "sensibly touched by the indefatigable zeal" with which those industrious cultivators of their profession had devoted their energies in ministration to the cholera patients, "and desiring to recompense the entire body in the persons of two who had particularly distinguished themselves," had named those two, one of them surgeon to the Hôtel Dieu, and the other belonging to the other hospital abovementioned, Chevaliers of the Legion of Honour. And so, Sir: "The Minister of the Interior presented the Cross of the Legion of Honour to M. LEGROS and M. LELION in the cholera wards." We may be pretty sure that HER MAJESTY will not be advised to follow the example thus set by the EMPEROR OF THE FRENCH; but only suppose she were! No doubt the house surgeons and medical students of the London hospitals would prove quite as diligent and as regardless of infection as the body represented by MM. LEGROS and LELION under similar circumstances. Now, Mr. Punch, just fancy the HOME SECRETARY, the LORD MAYOR, and SIR RICHARD MAYNE going, by command of the QUEEN, to Guy's and St. Bartholomew's Hospitals, and there presenting the Victoria Cross to MR. ROBERT SAWYER and MR. BENJAMIN ALLEN! To be sure I have no fear that surgical hardihood will ever receive in this country the recognition which, constituted by the Cross of the Order of Valour, is at present limited to the reward of physical courage. I mean by that, the courage which is shown in picking up live shells, and behaving, under the fire of an Armstrong battery, with the unconcern attributed by the showman to the DUKE OF WELLINGTON, "a valkin' about among the red hot cannon balls." If the infection of cholera should come here from Paris, I trust that of NAPOLEON's example in rewarding surgeons for its treatment won't. How disgusting it would be to have a doctor, who only combats contagion and that sort of thing, although habitually, put on a par with a fellow who has now and then to risk his life in action, as The Tatters and Starvation, Nov., 1865. A COMBATANT. Adventurous Husband. "I'M OFF TO THE CRYSTAL PALACE; AND, BY THE BYE, I SHALL VERY LIKELY GO UP IN MR. GLAISHWELL'S BALLOON. BUT PRAY DON'T BE IN THE LEAST ALARMED! THERE'S NO REAL DANGER!" Affectionate Wife. "How NICE! SHALL YOU BE HOME TO DINNER, LOVE?" Disinterested Mother-in-Law. "CHARMING! BUT TELL ME, RICHARD, WILL IT NOT INVALIDATE YOUR LIFE ASSURANCE?" LORD MARMION-RUSSELL. WHO said the RUSSELL'S head was old, Speaks nought but Rest and Thanks? As pluckily he rears his crest, As sturdily he strikes his best, As when, in youth, at GREY's behest, He charged the Tory ranks : When those now feeble ranks were strong, When PEEL made speeches, much too long, When WETHERELL'S braces broke their trust, You'll see him in the Premier's place Is that the Whigs should rule. And turns to deal the angry flout Like MARMION in Tantallon's towers, Nay, never let an angry lord And if he says JOHN is not peer To any statesman, far or near, He'll catch LORD JOHN's succinct," hear, hear!" Which means-that he has lied. What says Sir Charles Wood ? THE Newspaper understood to represent MR. BRIGHT signifies that it would be a becoming thing to appoint him Secretary for India. Certainly Birmingham supplied the Indians with guns, and now supplies them with gods-good commercial reasons, both, for handing India to the member for Birmingham. And we know none better. DIGNIFIED WORK FOR ILLUSTRIOUS MEN.-MR. GLADSTONE has been making a speech at Edinburgh, in honour of the Bust of PRINCE ALFRED! |