Produced by Neville Allen, Malcolm Farmer and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. VOLUME 98. JANUARY 25, 1890. * * * * * UNTILED; OR, THE MODERN ASMODEUS. "Tres volontiers," repartit le demon. "Vous aimez les tableaux changeans: je veux vous contenter." _Le Diable Boiteux._ [Illustration] XVII. "'The Humours of the Town!' Archaic phrase, Breathing of BRUMMEL and the dandy days Of curly hats and gaiters! 'Humours' seem rarer now, at least by night, In this strange world of gilt and garish light, And bibulous wits and waiters." So I. The Shadow smiled. "There's food for mirth In every nook of the sun-circling earth That human foot hath trodden. Man, the great mime, must move the Momus vein, Whether he follow fashion or the wain, In ermine or in hodden. "A City of Strange Meetings! Motives strong Why men in well-dressed multitudes should throng, Abundant are and various. Strongest, perhaps, the vague desire _to_ meet; No animal as Man so quick to greet, So aimlessly gregarious. "In Council, Caucus, Causerie, there's an aim Which many know and some might even name; But see yon motley muster, Like shades in Eblis wandering up and down! Types there of every 'Show Class' in the Town Elbow and glide and cluster." I see long rooms, _en suite_, with lofty walls, And _portieres_ sombre as Egyptian palls; I hear the ceaseless scuffle Of many trim-shod feet; the thin sweet sound Of stricken strings which faintly echoes round Those draperied vistas muffle. _Susurrus_ of a hundred voices blent In the bland buzz of cultured chat; intent Set faces mutely watching From cushioned corner or from curtained nook; Hands that about old ears attentive crook, The latest scandal catching. Cold rock-hewn countenances, shaven clean, Hard lips, and eyes alert with strength and spleen; Visages vain and vapid, All wreathed with the conventional bland smile That covers weary scorn or watchful guile, Shift here in sequence rapid. "Why is this well-dressed mob thus mustered here?" I asked my guide. "On every face a sneer Curls--when it is not smirking. Scorn of each other seems the one sole thing In which they sympathise, the asp whose sting Midst flowery talk is lurking." "Friend, mutual mockery, masked as mutual praise, Is a great social bond in these strange days. ROCHEFOUCAULD here might gather Material for new maxims keen and cold. They meet, these _convives_, if the truth be told, For boredom and bland blather. "Royston's Reception,--ah! yes; beastly bore! But must drop in for half an hour, no more. The usual cram,--one knows it. Big pudding with a few peculiar "plums". Everyone kicks, but everybody comes. Don't quite know how he does it!'