Punch, or the London Charivari, Vol. 109, August 24, 1895Various
General
Punch, or the London Charivari, Vol. 109, August 24, 1895
Various
English wit and humor -- Periodicals
But they didn't. Having done the exhibition and the admirable museum,
with its wonderful armour and marvellous old masters, I sampled a
music hall. I went to "the Crystal Palace" (vide guide-books), a
magnificent building, that no doubt had been built with the highest
aspirations and had come in the progress of time to the loftiest
tumblings. A portion of this noble institution had been converted into
a place of entertainment. Small stage with miniature scenery, trapeze,
orchestra. Audience almost entirely Dutch, entertainment almost
entirely English. Several British singers. One, a gentleman in evening
dress covered by a long Newmarket overcoat, with a _répertoire_
redolent of Holborn and the Surrey side, sang about "Nine in a row"
who (so I understood him to assert) "rolled down the street" when (if
I am not mistaken) they were rather "rocky about their feet." Then he
had another ditty which referred to his want of value. Was he worth
anything? He appealed to the Dutch audience. Some of them (possibly
friends of the singer) replied in the negative. Then he expressed his
conviction that he ought to be chucked out. The spectators cheered,
and seemed well satisfied with the programme. Whether they were able
to appreciate all the topical allusions is open to doubt, but I am
certain that they were thoroughly enjoying their beer.
I went to the market. An enormous crowd surrounded one booth. The
salesman was singing a song in honour of his wares, which were
composed of pieces of broken iron! So far as I could understand the
manners and customs of the vendors, the golden rule seemed to be
amongst them, "When in doubt take off the door to the outhouse with
the three broken panes of glass, the back parlour chandelier that
lacks a chain, and the disused baby's cradle, and sell 'em all by
auction."
I looked in, of course, at the Cathedral. My guide could not speak
French, but he understood English. He showed me the tombs of several
admirals.
"Where is VAN TROMP?" I asked, taking an interest in the career of
about the only Dutchman whose name I know intimately. Then, to make it
plainer, I added, "Whar is das VAN TROMP?"
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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