Punch, or the London Charivari, Volume 107, September 15, 1894Various
General
Punch, or the London Charivari, Volume 107, September 15, 1894
Various
English wit and humor -- Periodicals
It was a happy thought of the respected Editor of this paper (if I may
be permitted so to say) to commission me to undertake a thorough
inspection of the guns at the Admiralty Pier, Dover. Since war has
broken out between China and Japan there is no saying what may happen
next, and it seems to me that a plain statement of our preparedness will
have a reassuring effect. So without further preface I will relate my
adventures, taking care, however, to give no information that can be
serviceable to the enemy.
[Illustration]
I am a bit of a soldier myself but frankly confess that I was not nearly
so much of a warrior as my companion. We had a pass for two, and it was
understood that nothing should be done through indiscretion that might
endanger the safety of the country. So if my description is not what the
dramatic critics of the nearly newest school term "convincing," the
omission is accounted for. We two, braving the rain the wind and the
spray, put in an appearance at the end of the Admiralty Pier. There was
a sort of boat-house on our right, which seemingly contained clothing
for those who intended to do the guns.
"You had better put on canvas, Sir," said the custodian; "the engineers
are about, and it is rather dirty down below."
My companion was soon suited with a pair of overalls and a jumper. I
would have been fitted as speedily if the date of the adornment had been
anticipated by twenty years or so. As it was, my weight rather
interfered with the measurement. From the size of the canvas clothing in
stock, I am afraid our army must be a skinny one. Be this as it may, I
had to wear "36," when "44" would have been nearer the mark. The result
was that I walked with difficulty, and found I could not cough. So I was
rather glad that there was no chance of meeting the fairer sex, as I was
quite sure that I was not looking my best. And I say this although I was
tied together with bits of rope, and _did_ wear an old jockey cap.
"We will go and see the powder magazine first," said our guide,
flourishing what seemed to me to be a cheap kind of teapot, with a light
at the end of it. "It is so many feet below the level of the sea at low
water."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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