THE PACE THAT KILLS.

(Further Correspondence.)

SIR, I can hardly find language in which to convey to you the tremendous impression made on me by a journey recently made in one of these newly instituted "Racing" trains to the North. The sense of hurry was overwhelming. From the moment in which I was hustled out of breath, by mistake, with a first-class ticket into the corner of a third-class compartment, to that of arriving at Edinburgh an hour and seventeen minutes late, I never enjoyed a single interval of repose. Imagine the ceaseless whirl through stations, the masters of which were watching the train tear by with a dazed

stare. As we swept past Grantham refreshments were flung at us from the platform. We reached York at a tremendous rush. Seven invalid old gentlemen were trodden under foot in their efforts to get into the train.

It seems we had beaten the record by five-and-thirty minutes, which led me to believe that I should be able to partake at leisure of the excellent dinner of soup, fish, two entrées, joint, salad, pickles, and bread-and-cheese, provided for the passengers in the refreshmentroom. Imagine my surprise, therefore, on being told that, if I wanted to dine, I must do it in three minutes and a half; and as "beating the record," as the waiter smilingly observed, order of the day," I got through as much of it as I possibly could in

64

was the

that limited time. So great, though, was the scurry, that I found myself again en route, without having had an opportunity of paying him. And now our troubles began. At Thirsk, after struggling heavily against the north-east wind, our engine broke down. This was replaced, but our pace did not mend, and a few miles before Berwick we came to a dead stop. Inquiry confirmed my worst fears. It seemed that the strain had proved too much for them, and that the guard and driver had both gone off their heads simultaneously, and had to be removed to a neighbouring lunatic asylum. Owing to these contretemps, we reached our destination somewhat behind time, but found the officials nothing daunted, but full of enthusiasm, they having just heard that the rival Company's express had only just got in with both its driving-wheels off. They are therefore confident that to-morrow will again find the Company "beating the record." How long they will continue to do so is a problem that puzzles your much-impressed and over-wrought contributor,

A STITCH IN TIME.

SIR,-It is all very well to cry up the magnificent performance of running 200 miles without a break, but I would caution any intending traveller to see that he does not attempt the feat in a compartment with three escaped lunatics. This was my experience yesterday. The train had hardly moved out of the station before I discovered the dangerous character of my companions. In a few minutes they were all at my throat. The struggle was a long and desperate one, but I am fortunately a bit of an athlete, and by the time we had passed Grantham I had secured two effectively in the umbrella and luggage nets, and had fixed the third with the point of a walking-stick underneath the opposite seat. The last hour passed with these three maniacs glaring at me was, however, not pleasant travelling, and I have certainly no wish to repeat the experiment. Yours, &c.,

NOTHING IF NOT CIRCUMSPECT.

The following letter, which comes fittingly as a conclusion to the above Correspondence, has just reached Mr. Punch as he was going to press; and, as it seems to him to announce a very wise decision on the matter, he has much pleasure in subjoining it :

SIR,-After three weeks' testing of the racing and other qualities of our respective engines, by which we flatter ourselves they have both, in turns, shown that they have been able, when put to it, to "beat the record," we have determined, by mutual agreement, on and after the 31st inst., to return to our normal ways, and observe, as nearly as we can, the hours of departure and arrival of our trains as fixed in the advertised Time-tables of our respective Companies. The fact is, keeping up, "the pace that kills" necessitates the heaping a great deal of coal on-an expensive process, that, as figures will readily show, must soon come to a full stop. Our motto is, therefore, pro tem., "Requiescamus in pace," which means that,

for the future, we are going to rest and be thankful with a good, but moderate pace. As long as the "Scotchman" can fly from London to Edinburgh in something like eight hours, we fancy the public will have no occasion to quarrel with

Your obedient Servants,

says I.

"Is that a thing to rouse a Frank's surprise?"

A boy straight up from Clare is the chap to raise your hair,
And-rhetorically-black your Party eyes.

What Mossoo would call "vacarme" for all Paddies hath a charm,
So bad language fairly flew about the place.
"Judas!" aloud to cry, and each other give the lie,
Were among the pleasant features of the case.
Chorus.-You may talk, &c.

Oh, boys, there was the fun, you should see it ere 'twas done,
All courtesies one by one did disappear;

When the CONYBEARES and TANNERS put an end to all good manners,
The talk sometimes was horrible to hear.

The insult and the oath,-well, there's law agin them both,
But for unwritten codes we need not care.
Fellows find it will not do to talk much at Philaloo,
Unless they've got a curse or two to spare.

Chorus.-You may talk, &c.

the papers soon ye'll trace that our Party Spouting Place Is closed for alterations and repairs."

Chorus.-You may talk, &c.

If Billingsgate you'd try, or give Bargees the go-by,
Or make yourself a blayguard, just for fun,
You've just one thing to do get a seat at Philaloo,
And your mother soon won't own you for her son.
Sure the endless Party shine is a prisint moighty fine,
But what it will be you may well suppose.

For imagine, don't ye see, what a Philaloo there 'll be,
When the prisint Ayes change places with the Noes!
Chorus.-You may talk, &c.
ENCORE VERSE.

Well, I'm glad to find it's true ye 're ashamed of Philaloo,

And the conduct of the Mimbers that

ye

send.

May the Session that is past of such Sessions prove the last,
Or Parlyment itself perhaps may end.
'Tis not only Irish there who abuse, and rave, and swear,
The Saxon does his share, ye 'll find that thrue.
If to "justice" he'll consint, and not ax us for the Rint,
Shure we'll all behave like doves at Philaloo !
Chorus.-You may talk, &c.

FOOT-NOTE AT COVENT GARDEN.-Mr. CROWE is an energetic conductor. Head, hand, and foot are at work, quicker, quicker! Here, indeed, as on an elderly beauty's face, "The CROWE's foot marks the advance of time."

there will be no exception

The Nervous Tourist. Did you, though?

SCENE-A Ducal Castle. Party of Tourists discovered waiting in the Entrance Hall. Enter the Head Butler, an imposing person with sandy hair and pale blue prominent eyes.

The H. B. (with condescension). If you'll 'ave the goodness to wait a little, I shall be able to go round with you myself. [Departs with mysterious solemnity, leaving the Party

whelmed.

[Regards the H. B. with intense admiration for his judgment and resolution.

A Comic Tourist. I wish someone 'ud offer me nine thousand pounds for the vawses on my mantelpiece. I wouldn't 'aggle over it.

The H. B. (ignoring him). The picture in the panel above the chimley-piece is a paregoric subject representing "Apoller, Mercry, and the Fine Arts complimenting the first Duke of Ammercloth on the completion of the new Private Chapel. By 'OGARTH. In the corner. Old woman heatin' a nerring. By Torchlight.

A Tourist (who thinks it is time he made a remark). Let me see -wasn't he one of the Dutch School? Tautschlyt. Torschylt. I seem to know the name.

The H. B. (tolerantly). No, no, Sir-you didn't foller what I said. It wasn't the name of the artis-it's what the old woman is heatin' the 'erring by, in a cellar. The cellar and the 'erring is considered masterpieces.

A Young Lady. What a very curious method of cooking fish, isn't it? [The Party move on. H. B. This is His Grace's own Study. His Grace sees his tenants at that table.

A Matron (who yields to none in reverence for the aristocracy to her daughters). Doesn't everything look stately, dears? I wonder where they keep all the hats and umbrellas.

A Wife (to her Husband). Now, for goodness' sake, CHARLES, don't [The Party converse in whispers; a Tourist in a Flannel Shirt taps a man in armour familiarly on the stomach, causing him to emit a hollow ring. The rest look at him reproachfully. He returns their gaze with defiance, but edges away from the armed figure as the Butler returns.

try to be funny here-remember where you are!

The H. B. Now please, if you'll follow me, and keep together. (Tourists straggle after him, each in deadly fear of catching his eye; the Man in the Flannel Shirt hums the Marseillaise" under his breath.) The Banqueting 'All. The Fam'ly takes all their meals 'ere when at Blaisenings. (Party repeat this to one another in hushed voices.), The tapestry along the walls is Gobling.

Charles (frivolously). Ha, very bad example for the family!
The H. B. Did you speak, Sir?

Charles (turning red in the face). Only to my wife.

Tourist (with a turn for Architecture and a desire to air his information). Er-this portion of the building is-ah-Early Decorated, is it not?

The H. B. (severely). No, Sir. Decorated quite lately, by a London Firm.

[The Architectural Tourist falls to the rear; the others conceive a poor opinion of him.

A Tourist (nerving himself to ask a question). Will there be many dining here this evening?

The H. B. (with a lofty candour). Well, no-we 'aven't many staying with us at present. I should say we shouldn't set down more than twenty or so to-night-or thirty, at most.

A Tourist with a Twang. Air your Company a Stag-party? The H. B. (pityingly). There's no deer-forests in this part of the country.

The Tourist with a Twang (clapping him on the shoulder and laughing). I see you don't understand our National Colloquialisms. The H. B. I don't understand any Colloqualisms bein' took with Me. (He moves away with dignity.) This (opening door) is the Hamber Droring Room.

[A door on the opposite side is seen to shut precipitately as the Party enter.

The Reverential Matron. GWENDOLEN-come over here a minute. (Whispers.) She was sitting in this very chair-do you see? I wonder if it could have been the Duchess! There's the mark left in her book-if I only dared. (Reading title.) The Mystery of a Bathing Machine. We'll get it at the bookstall as we go back.

The H. B. (coming to a stand and fixing his eye on a Nervous Tourist, who opens his mouth feebly). The pair of Vawses on the Consols was brought over by the Grandfather of the present Duke of Ammercloth, and are valued at hover five thousand pounds apiece. We 'ave been hoffered nine thousand five 'undred for the pair-and refused.

[The Man in the Flannel Shirt groans “'Ow long?" to himself in bitter indignation at the unequal distribution of wealth.

VOL. XCV.

lord, the Duke, I believe? A Tourist (anxious to propitiate the Butler). An excellent land

The H. B. (coldly). We 'ave not 'eard of any complaints on the merly the Harmry. When we 'ave a large 'ouse party, they someestate. (Leads the way to the Gallery.) The Hoak Gallery-fortimes comes up 'ere after dinner, and 'as games.

[Expressions of pleased surprise-always excepting the Man in the Flannel Shirt, who mutters something about "dancing on volcanoes."

A Tourist (with a thirst for information). What sort of games? The H. B. (with dignity). That I can't tell you percisely, bein' no part of my dooties to participate. (Halting before a picture.) Portrait of 'ENERY HALGERNON, Second Marquis of SEASPRINGS, beyeaded on Tower 'Ill by Sir PETER LELY.

Charles the Incorrigible. Do you mean that Sir PETER took his head off?

The H. B. (solemnly). He took his Lordship off full length, Sir, as you can see by looking. (To the Reverential Matron, whose demeanour has not escaped him.) If you like to stop be'ind, and let the rest go on a bit, I can show you something that's not generally open to the Public. (Mysteriously.) It's the room where all his Grace's boots are kep'. He has over a nundred pair of them.

K

[The Matron rejoins the rest in a state of solemn ecstasy, and can hardly refrain from betraying how highly she has been privileged. The Party return to the Hall.

A Tourist (a diligent student of the Society paragraphs in a Sunday paper-to Butler). Is Lady FLORILINE at home just now? The H. B. Her Ladyship is away visiting at present, Sir. Expected back Saturday week, Sir.

The Society T. (as if he felt this as a personal disappointment). Not till Saturday week ?-really-ah! (The rest regard him with increased respect, and listen attentively.) I suppose it's quite true that the match with Lord GEORGE GINGHAM is broken off. Going to marry Lady SUSAN SUNSHADE, isn't he? I was very sorry when I heard of it (feelingly).

The H. B. Was you hintimate with 'is Lordship, Sir?

The S. T. (with a modest reserve). Oh, I've stayed with him, you know, and that sort of thing.

[He has at a Swiss Hotel, when Lord GEORGE took him for a Tout, but what of that?

The H. B. Then I should certingly recommend you to inquire of Lord GEORGE in pusson, Sir. That's his Lordship coming up the terrace now. [The S. T. collapses atterly. Ermyntrude (coming up to her Mother). Oh, Mamma, what do you think? We looked in at a window as we passed, and we saw them all having afternoon tea. And the Duchess was actually eating buttered toast. She didn't see us for ever so long-we had such a good view!

[Scene closes in upon the majority of the Party, anxiously discussing in undertones the propriety or otherwise of offering any, and what, fee to the Butler, who stands apart in a brown study, with a distinct effort to mitigate the severity of his expression. As far as the Man in the Flannel Shirt is concerned, the problem "solvitur ambulando."

Madame La République loquitur :

MON Dieu! He's up again, though with much splutter.
It seemed that his submergence was so utter!
But to the surface struggles he once more.
Pouf-f-f! No, I cannot say that he looks dignified:
But by his frog-like sprawl one thing is signified,-
That" P'tit bonhomme-BOULANGER-vit encore!"

There seemed an end to his thrasonic clowning.
But it appears that he is proof 'gainst drowning,
Like well, to specify were too invidious.
Pinked by the "Usher," plunged into the flood
Of Ridicule that's like a bath of mud,

Here he is once again, alive though hideous!
Que faire? I feel that I should relish greatly
To "bonnet" him as I did PLON-PLON lately.
'Twould simplify my task if he would sink;

But one can't drown a cork that just bobs under
And then pops up. What will France say, I wonder?
And what, I wonder more, will BISMARCK think?
What is he? What's his aim? Which is his Party?
Is he a sort of Brummagem BUONAPARTE ?
A squeezable and clayey mask of CÆSAR?
Who pulls the wires of this pert popinjay?
Am I indeed to be upset one day

By this preposterous, spray-spluttering sneezer?

I feel he is my foe. A foe pour rire?

Or one fou furieux more whom I've to fear?
Our geese betray the Capitol, not save.
My fools are my undoing. Despot sane
Were better than a CLEON cracked and vain.
So you, my master, "popping up again,"
Spluttering, but with his head above the wave?

COLWELL-HATCHNEY MUSICAL FESTIVAL. (Contributed by a Sufferer from the Music of the Present and the Future, at present residing at the Colwell-Hatchney Musical Academy.) To commence at common time, four in a bar. There will be sixteen in the American bar.

Opening Chorus accompanied by the

LIGHTEST GUITAR IN THE MUSICAL WORLD, weighing only two pounds ten. The Second Part of the Festival will be in harmony with the First, and taken at the same time. Conductor, Mr. SAMMY TONE.

(By kind permission of the London General Omnibus Company.) At the word of command, "Full inside! All right!" the Concert will go on with

"I know a Bank."... LOTHBURY, E.C.

After which an instructive Lecture on

TAKING DOWN SWELL SHUTTERS,

and opening the Shop for the day, will be given by
The Leading Assistant Boy

in the establishment of Messrs. NARROWOOD & Co. (successors to BROADWOOD).

Duet in Scale Armour by Little FRESH HEGNER and B. OFFMAN"Oh, would I were a Fish!"

To be followed by a Squintette entitled, "Eyes right! So you are!" After which there will be

ATHLETIC MUSICAL EXERCISES,
Including Sliding Scales on the Zither by Unknown Members of the
Accidental Club. N.B.-A Surgeon with musical instruments in
attendance. No danger.

RUNNING UP-AND-DOWN-THE-PIANO RACE.
Five-Year-Olds only entered
after weighing in the Chromatic Scale.

FLAT RACE over two Grand Pianos. To be won hand over hand.

66

CHORUS "Fingers were made before Tuning-Forks." After which a Practical Lecture on How to Score a Treble for the Orchestra," by Signor RUBBERINI, assisted by Three Dummies. Swimming Contest from C. to. C. in puris naturalibus. AIR-" See me Dance the Poker," composed about the time of ALFRED the Grate. After which

THE GRAND MUSICAL TOURNAMENT-THE PITCH BATTLE. By the entire strength of the Company, with Pitch-forks. To be followed by the Hailstone Chorus, with real Hailstones, and a Grand finale of ORGANIC REMAINS.

The Chair will be taken by the first person present, singular number, and the Vice will be represented by A VIRTUOSO.

Admission by Playing Cards only. When in doubt play Penny Trump. No False Notes changed.

Tea and Shrimps will be served (if the Shrimps like it) in the Antea Room.

Overtures will be made to everybody inclined to assist in the charitable object. There will be a collection of umbrellas and walkingsticks at the doors, which will be given to the Universal Lemon Aid Society. Hon. Sec., Mr. SQUASH. Address, Monday Ginger-Pop Concerts.

After the Concert the entire Chorus, Principals of all the Academies, and the Audience will join in the Irrational Anthem from HANWELL'S ORATORIO.

After which a March Past, three shies a penny, SARAH SARTY, fireworks (which may be procured at the doors by those who have neglected to bring them in their pockets), grand free distribution of everybody's umbrellas, and procession round the ruins. Sic transit gloria mundi! Pop goes the Weasel! (Signed) BY ANYONE.

N.B.-Order not admitted after the first row.

"THE RACE ACROSS THE ATLANTIC" (contributed by Master Tommy, at home for the holidays).-Why, the American, to be sure!