Chapter II: Part 2

I passes over that woyage, and my many blunders in trying to make myself hunderstood by the hignerent natives, and at once goes in to describe what was of coarse most hintresting to me, namely, the dinners. I dined wun day at the Shing-Cully Otel, which is a fust-class consern. I was told as all the Swells dined at the top of the house; so hup stairs I went, and sat myself down at a large tabel, with about 30 Chineese Gents, all drest in their riduklus kostoom of Jackets and pettycotes. They all stared at me as if I was sumthink werry strange, tho' drest in my ushal full hevening dress, with white choker. We only had 1 Maynoo for all of us, and had to chuse our Dishes, so I chose Birds'-nest Soup, Sharks' fins, as they hadn't got no Turbot, lots of frute, and Roast Puppy! We began with frute; but, before we ate any, we all took wine with one another! The Birds'-nest Soup must have been werry carefooly strained, for there wasn't not no twigs nor bits of straw, het setterer, in it. The Sharks' fins wasn't at all bad, but, as we wasn't allowd no knives or forks, but only 2 chop-sticks, as they calls 'em, I had sum difficulty in heating it. They then brort me some stewed sumthink, which was that oily that I didn't heat much of it. I ardly xpecs to be bleeved when I says that we had no tabel-cloth or tabel-napkins, but we each had a peace of common brown paper at the side of our plates, with which we all wiped our messy chop-sticks, and our oily mouths. The dux was werry good, so I had about harf a one. The Puppy Dog looked much like a Sucking Pig, but even the strong hunion sauce didn't hide the parfume enuff for me to be able to taste it. The wine wasn't anythink werry grand, but, what it wanted in flavior, it made up in strength, and many a eye began for to twinkle afore the dinner was over; and, judging from what I saw then, and at other times, I should think about the most commical hobjeck on earth is a drunken Chinyman. I was arterwards told that the propper place to get dogs and cats for dinner was in Jack-Poo-Kow. The idear of calling such horrid filth Kow, made me suspishus, so I found the place out, and, who should I see oppersite the winder where the dead dogs and cats is hung up to dry, but your own dog TOBY! a barking at 'em with such hindignashun that I werrily bleeves that one word of incurragement from me wood have made him rush into the _restaurant_, and ewen praps attack the Hed Waiter! However, I perswaded him to leave the horrid place, and go home with me; but, on our way, we came to another of them, where a black cat was hanging up, when in TOBY rushed, and, siezing it in his mouth, brort it out to me, and tore it lim from lim! Out came the Master, and 2 of his Waiters, and, little knowing who I was, seized me, and dragged me into the shop, and demanded 100 sents, or four shillings, for the black cat's body, and tuppence for its pair of eyes, which, it seems, are considerd a speshal lukshury? TOBY, insted of looking ashamed of hisself for his shamefool conduck, trotted by my side, barking away, and looking as prowd as a Lord Mare's Coachman, till I lost him in the crowd.

I called one day by appintment upon a sillibrated Mandereen with 3 tales, who must therefore have bin a heminent swell. He was not a tome, but the servents showed me into a room where a most bewtifool Chineese Lady was a-lying on a Sofhy, with such darling little tootsy putsys as I never seed afore, and which I shood think wood suttenly prewent her from ever warking like a Cristian Lady. She wore all her bewtifool hare brushed off her bewtifool face as if she wanted it all to grow backards. I warked boldly up to her and sed, "Mandareeny tomy tomy?" to which she replied, "Ching-Ching-Changy-Wangy!" Not quite undustanding a word she said, I was about to take my leave by saying, "Bowy! Wowy!" when she got off the Sofhy and hobbling along to the door, placed herself against it, and patting my estonished cheeks said, "Oh, how nicey picey!" I was that estonished that I thort I shood have fainted, and ewen TOBY, who I had took with me, stared at her with both his eyes, speshally when she put up her fan, when presently the door was forced open from the howtside, and who shood henter but the three-taled Mandareen hisself!

He looked fust at the bewtifool Lady, and then at me, and then, harf droring his grate big sword, and sounding the Gong most wierlently, in rushed about 1/2 a dozen servents, and after some most angry words of Chineese gibberish from their master, they all siezed me and dragged me to another room, where they took off both my boots and my stockings and laying me down on the flore, tho I had all my best clothes onn, they beat both my souls and my eels with sticks till I skreamed for mersy!

They then left me. I was that hurt both in my feet and my feelinx that I didn't kno what on airth to do. When presently in came one of them quite quietly and said in a whisper: "I spikes ze Inglesh, pore feller! and if you have sum munny I can get you what you calls a sub-sty-tooty for the rest of your punnishment." "How much will it be?" says I. "About 10,000 Cash?" says he. "10,000 Cash!" says I. "It's only 2 pound ten of your munny," says he. So, feeling as I shood suttenly die if I had to go through the same tortur again, I gave him the munny, and sure enuff he soon returned with a pore seedy-looking Chinaman who took my place, and my new friend took me out of the house by the back-door, and off I set and got home without hinterrupshun!

As soon as my feet got well I went to a werry sillybrated Phizzygonomist, I thinks they calls 'em, to have my fortun told. He werry kindly sed that my large mouth and chin, and my furm nose, and my large neck, was all most faverable sines; but added, as he was sorry to have to say, that as my eyes was not long ones, and had no large pewpils, I must most suttenly have a grate natteral taste for picking and stealing! Whether sich a rewelation was worth fifteen sents, or 7-1/2_d._, I must leave you, Sir, to determine; all I can say is, that I thort it dear at the munny.

I bort wun day a most bewtifool Chineese rapper, and I used offen to go and sit on the steps leading to wun of their little tempels, with my air werry nicely drest by a air-dresser, and there, with TOBY by my side, I used to sit and receeve the respecfool atenshuns of the estonished parsers-by.

One of the prinsiple emusements of the hupper nobillerty is the flying of most bewtifool kites! I have heard of the same thing being dun in the great City of London, but I never seed it. I bleeves in both cases the kites is made of paper. Everybody smokes in China, Men and Women and Boys and Gals. Sum of the men has baccy-pipes so long that they uses them as Warking-Sticks!

I was rayther surprised to find as they warships the Griffin, jest such a wun as we has on the top of Tempel Bar, but which our peepel, as you kno, don't warship, not by no means. But the Chineese in their dense hignerence calls it a Draggon!

In short, Sir, I arives at the conclushun that the Chineese is about the rummest lot of peeple in the hole world, and anyboddy as wants plenty of fun had better cum here at wunce, but not stay long, and don't heat dogs or cats, or wisit Mandereen's Wives.

* * *

"Thank you, very much," said _Mr. Punch_, when ROBERT had finished speaking, "but I am afraid I can stay with you no longer. I wish to pay a flying visit to the Colonies. But first I must show Mr. STANLEY that, great Discoverer though he may be, I can yet over-explore him!" Then, accompanied by his faithful TOBY, he wished that they should be in Central Africa. Urged by his companion, in this instance, he took some copious notes. He preserved them, and they are thus able to be embodied in this veracious chronicle.

* * * * *

MR. PUNCH AND TOBY IN CENTRAL AFRICA.

Struggle through the jungle; hardships beginning. Black-legs, engaged owing to strike amongst _Dokkas_, or native porters, fast dwindling, owing to energetic picketing with poisoned arrows from behind trees by small brown dwarfs. Pursued one, and after boxing his ears severely, dismissed him with threat of telling his mother. Jungle almost impassable. All heavier baggage sent on to Central Africa by Parcels Delivery. After four days' wandering, the Lady Guide, who had been represented as "thoroughly conversant with the district," began to cry and said she had lost the path. Dismissed her on the spot, paying her return fare, though under no _legal_ obligation to do so. Really _too_ ridiculous to attempt to conduct a party through the Dark Continent with nothing but an ordnance map of Epping Forest! Long and fruitless search for track; fortunately, just as despair reached climax, met a _Koppah_ (or native policeman) and asked him--turned out to be only just round the corner.

On the main road again; Passed a native caravan of nomad _Djipsis_. Bought a hearth-brush and door-mat. At mid-day, took the sun with portable camera. Sun moved and spoilt negative. Made some observations.

Reached native village--N'yutoihigama. Much struck by native method of ascending palms for cocoa-nuts, carrying letters, wrestling, &c. Visited King MAHBUL of Pigzinklovaland. Much interested by efforts of King with his three favourite wives, all under influence of _Pombé_ or palm-beer, to roll into royal kraal.

On again; progress obstructed by the _Nekkids_ of Nuffintowara, who seemed bent on giving battle. Sent messenger to King with present of shirt-studs, after which allowed to pass unharmed. Further on, stopped by band of _Grimi-Grubbas_, who evidently meant being nasty. Called to them pleasantly in native tongue, "_Cheke-bobo-nangu-yanzi-toorali_?" (Good-morning, have you used Scours' Soap?) Found they hadn't, and presented them with a packet, also with brushes and other articles of the toilette, of which they were in great need.

Came to open space near N'yumarkiti. Saw some _Darckorsis_ running in and out of brushwood in highly suspicious manner. Found on inquiry that they were only "out for an airing" not "on the job." Much relieved. Conference with King M'rora of the Wezijiji tribe; trumpets sounded as soon as he was done.

Discovered large river of colour of strong green tea. Named it the Sir Wilfrid Lawson. Entered territory of the Rumboozi people. Their king, MOPZANBRUMZI, offering his services as guide. MOPSANBRUMZI most cordial, but much too drunk to be of any material assistance. Once powerful intellect now, alas! degraded. Made a long speech in the Ikkupi dialect--quite unintelligible. MOPZANBRUMZI presented with a small tin of Royal Mail Red Paint, with which, when the expedition left, he was proceeding to decorate the vicinity.

On the lagoon. An adventure befell TOBY, which, but for prompt action, might have had fatal termination; TOBY mistook open mouth of hippopotamus for drain, and rushed down in search of rat. Hippopotamus closed mouth, with expression intimating plainly that "No contributions can be returned unless accompanied by stamps and directed wrapper." TOBY'S barking inside fainter. At length remembered having brought Report of Parnell Commission for private reading. Read Report to Hippopotamus slowly, until symptoms of weariness observable in huge pachyderm. Read on, and hippopotamus yawned; whereupon whistled to TOBY, who ran up, not much the worse, except that frill had lost every vestige of colour.

Engaged native interpreter, as no conversation manuals published for countries in this district. Excellent fellow--clean, strictly honest, total abstainer; only one blemish--not discovered till later--a bit of a cannibal when he got the chance. Sent him on to announce our arrival to the Dilli-dillis, but found none in the neighbourhood when we came up--only some things which he _said_ were fossils. Made no comment, but resolved to send them to Professor HUXLEY, and see what _his_ opinion is.

Among the Bong Booshis; despatched Cannibal Interpreter to report; he returned, wiping his mouth, and announcing that they were "most agreeable, excellent, good people."

Could not understand why they all hid underground at our approach, and why the King so persistently sent word that he was not at home. Told Interpreter that, in our opinion, he was a little deficient in tact. Sent him to treat with a native chief, called PHATTI, and had the mortification this time of surprising him _in the act_; no denial possible--he had his mouth full at the time! Told him that, if this occurred _again_, we should be exceedingly annoyed. Cannibal Interpreter penitent; lent him tract, _Why I Became a Vegetarian_, over which he shed tears.

Came to the M'yusikauli District. King LESSI came to meet us, and offered _Mr. Punch_ a free pass over his domains. In the evening a grand performance, partly in our honour, partly to celebrate recent triumph over the G'yudi-g'yudis, who, under their chief MAKDOOGALLA, had been waging war against the M'yusi-kaulis on the pretext that they were assuming an offensive demeanour. Heard afterwards that both sides claimed victory, but truce declared for a year. Performance magnificent--but much too long. Native dances by _Ikika_ girls in pairs. _T'seriokomiks_ and _T'songandanzas_ also gave curious exhibitions of their powers. _Hackiribats_ and _Kunjeras_ (or native magicians) performed. A wild, weird, lurid scene, strange and fascinating--but a trifle slow.

In Ugoweh; met some Gitalongdo girls, but could not succeed in persuading them to enter into conversation.

On the River; saw _Krûs_ practising in long canoes, and got out of their way. Descended cataracts; shot several rapids, and sent them home to be stuffed.

Came to Desert, and hired camel to go across on, (N.B. These animals are styled "Back-tryin"--which they _are_.) Only eighteen-pence an hour, which would have been reasonable enough, but quite impossible to sit out more than nine-penn'orth. Decided to take an ostrich for remainder of journey. Softer to sit. Ostrich a failure; ran for five hours in a circle, at express speed, and then suddenly turned shy, and buried its head in sand, without the slightest notice; foolish habit for any bird to acquire. Determined to try a quagga--quagga tried _me_, and very soon found me wanting, A quagga is a brute to buck! After all, came back to my old wooden mount--spot better than stripes, any day.

In the Jungle again. Discovered Colony of Highly-educated Anthropoid Apes. Lent them some copies of _Punch_, which are indispensable to all African travellers. Apes delighted--one large gorilla quite hysterical with laughter. Much gratified--till discovery that it was the _advertisements_ which amused them most. Sense of humour of apes much exaggerated.

Reached the Kit'ldrumma District. Natives hostile at first; war-drums sounded incessantly. Fortunately fond of music, so easily pacified them by playing selection from "_Tannhäuser_," arranged for drum and panpipes by LISZT. TOBY taking violent fancy to a "_Spottiduff_," or native dog, _Spottiduff_ vanishing mysteriously shortly before dinner; find this animal considered a great dainty in this locality. TOBY inconsolable.

Among the Ustingis. Received with great ceremony by their king--CHESIPARA. Palm wine (corked) handed round in liqueur glasses. Dinner beastly. CHESIPARA saying repeatedly that he "made no stranger of me"--he _will_, though, for the future. Exchange of presents. Gave CHESIPARA a silver-mounted dressing case (bankrupt stock--a bargain), a handsome coloured supplement, _Muzzer's Darling_ (given away with Christmas Number of _Timon_), a microscope (object-lens missing--but he'll never miss it), a plated fish-slice, and a pair of nut-crackers. CHESIPARA, after a good deal of parade, presented me with a bunch of very indifferent bananas, and a brass collar, belonging to one of his wives, whom he had had killed on purpose! Told him, with much emotion, that I should never forget it.

Reached the Centre of Africa; found that luggage had _not_ been forwarded after all! Had to borrow a clean shirt from Kollamangel chief, promised to return it on arrival at Coast. Difficulty with TIPPOO-TIP of the Blackmaïlas, who refused to allow _Mr. Punch_ to pass without tribute. Pacified him with palm butter and reached coast without further incident.

* * *

After leaving TIPPOO-TIP, he continued his journey through the Colonies. Now he was taking tiffin in Calcutta, and a few minutes later found everyone asleep at Montreal. Christmas seemed to him to be being kept in Melbourne in the most sultry weather, and New Year's Day in Cape Colony was observed as a Midsummer festival. He had a general impression of constant change and constant improvement. The spirit of the mighty English Race seemed to be falling upon the world like a ray of glorious sunshine. This ray of light was continually increasing and beating back the darkness. And, as the Sage travelled through the air, he found everywhere content. It mattered not who the natives might be, they had but one flag, the Union Jack, one sovereign, the Empress-Queen VICTORIA!

"Rule BRITANNIA!" cried _Mr. Punch_, enthusiastically. "But for all that, I wish I could have a few minutes to myself."

In a moment, he found himself seated amidst the eternal snows of the North Pole.

"Well, this is an ice place!" shivered the Sage. There was a roar of mighty laughter from the Aurora Borealis. It was the first time that the ancient jest had been uttered in those latitudes. The Sage blushed at his adoption of the venerable "JOE MILLER," and wished himself back in Europe--in civilisation.

He found himself in Venice. Steam gondolas were travelling along the Grand Canal, and Cockneys were cutting their names on the sacred stones of the Church of St. Mark.

"It is becoming very English," murmured the Sage. "I suppose the next move will be to organise pigeon-shooting matches in front of the Café Florian, after turning the Doge's Palace into an illuminated Palace of Varieties."

_Mr. Punch_ was disgusted, and began to think longingly of home.

"I have made a pretty fair round of the world, but I suppose I ought to do a little more in Europe--after all, it has the first claim upon my consideration. Let me consider--I think I should like to see a Greek robber in Athens."

In a moment the Sage found himself in an Athenian hotel, with the proprietor bowing obsequiously before him.

"Not very classical," he murmured. "I wonder what it was like in the days when the dead languages were alive, if not kicking. How I should like to see Athens in the time of HELEN the fairest of the fair in everything--save in her conduct to MENELAUS!"

Before he had time for further thought, he found himself in the far past, and thus had an opportunity of comparing the old with the new.

"Very pretty, but, on my word, comfort was a secondary consideration. But I have neglected Spain. I wish to see the loveliest view in good old WELLINGTON'S Peninsula."

_Mr. Punch_ had expected to be carried into one of the courts of the Alhambra, but, in lieu of this, he found himself gazing at a lady, beautiful beyond compare. For a moment he was so lost in admiration, that he almost forgot himself, and was about to kiss her. Remembering, however, that he was a married man, and that his better half might object to the very natural, but (under the circumstances) highly improper transaction, he paused, and changed his kiss into a beaming smile. He was a little _chagrined_, however, to notice that the beautiful creature was so intent upon watching some distant attraction, that she had no eyes for him, nor, in fact, for anyone else.

"What can she be looking at?" he murmured. "How lovely she is with her heightened colour, her parted lips, her soul beaming through her lustrous dark eyes!"

Then he uttered an exclamation of disgust when he found that the lady was giving her entire attention to a bull-fight!

"I think I have had enough of this! We may have something of the same sort in our courts during a trial for murder; but, as a rule, _our_ female blood-hungerers are either podgy matrons of sixty, or skinny old maids, of no (admitted) age at all! So give me England--dear old England!" He was set down at the Cannon Street Railway Station, and, collecting his luggage (which had followed by _Grande Vitesse_), he called a cab, and drove to Fleet Street.

And once more he was back in the ancestral halls, which had been decorated for the occasion with holly, and its white-berried companion. So, while TOBY played "_Home, Sweet Home!_" _Mr. Punch_ kissed BRITANNIA under the Mistletoe, and wished her and the whole world, in a Wassail-bowl,

A MERRY CHRISTMAS, AND A HAPPY NEW YEAR!

* * * * *

A HAGGARD ANNUAL.

(_Specially written by Walker Weird, to usher in the Year 1890_)

UNREDD, the writer, and SPOYLPAPEROS, the sketcher, were in the presence of a weird figure, that grotesquely genuflected before them.

"Fear not, my sons," explained the WEIRD, cutting a sad caper; "fear not. _He-who-must-be-obeyed_ has need of ye. And, as _He_ has need, ye must be well-bred," as we say in the yeast.

"And you are?--"

"The Ghost of a Joke!" murmured the extinct witticism, sadly; "and my name is SILLIBILLI." And then a strange thing happened.

All of a sudden the Writer and the Sketcher found themselves thrust into the presence of _He-who-must-be-obeyed_. After pushing down his two captives, SILLIBILLI himself fell upon his hands and knees, like a pig journeying to market. The men of the pen and pencil looked about them, and for miles could see nothing but prostrate forms. In front of them was a heavy white drapery, seemingly hiding a figure. At length the curtain began to move, and suddenly, from above its folds, appeared a most beautiful red nose--never had they seen such a long and curved nose. Then came a voice, sweet and soft, and yet full of power, reminding those present of something between a murmuring brook and a thunderbolt.

"Strangers!" said the voice, in English, but much purer and more classical English than the Arriarris talk, "Strangers, When is the portal to a saloon not the portal to a saloon? Tell me that, O Strangers!"

"When it is an Egyptian potsherd," stealthily whispered SILLIBILLI.

"Begone, thou white headed old fool!" cried _He-who-must-be-obeyed_, angrily. "It is not the answer; and, if it were, who art thou to thus reply? Begone, thou feeble cry of a donkey long defunct!" The voice rose in its anger clear and cold, and the Writer and the Sketcher fancied they could see two gleaming eyes above the drapery.

SILLIBILLI beat his stupid old head thrice on the ground, and crawled out of the apartment as he had crawled into it.

"Neither of ye know," continued the Lord of the beautiful red nose. "Then begone, and search for that joke--trace it to its source--to its saucy source."

There was a pause, and then a strange thing happened. A mighty shout of laughter rose from the very depths, and seemed to fill the entire universe. _He_ seemed pleased, and gracefully inclined his nose as if acknowledging a compliment. Then he continued, less sternly,

"Away to the land of the Joks, and the Judimows--the Quipps and the Kranx. Away, to find a way!"

Once again came the roar of mighty laughter. From far, far away it came with a dreadful muttering noise, that grew and grew to a crash and a roar, which combined in itself all that is terrible and yet splendid in the possibilities of sound. Then it passed away, and disappeared in a murmured guffaw.

Then UNREDD and SPOYLPAPEROS, feeling sure of the presence of two gleaming eyes above the beautiful red nose, turned sharply round and fled.

And they journeyed on and on, through the snow and the ice, until they came to the land of the desert, in which they found themselves (strange to say) in a warmer atmosphere than that to which they had grown accustomed in the regions of the North Pole. Then a strange thing happened. They witnessed a fight between an elephant and a cat. The elephant managed to get well on the bank of the river which ran (conveniently) through the desert, in spite of the cat nipping on to one of its legs. Gradually the cat began to swallow the leg, then the body, then the head, until nothing but the trunk of the elephant was left. A strange thing had happened--the elephant had been swallowed by the cat!

"He was evidently going out of town," said UNREDD, airily.

"So I see," replied SPOYLPAPEROS, and he pointed to the trunk. Once more came the dreadful muttering noise that ended in a roar of laughter, and again a shadowy form floated past them--the Ghost of a Joke! And when they looked towards the cat it too had gone, having disappeared (so they subsequently ascertained) with a grin. They then knew the creature's breed--it was a Cheshire cat!

And now they were in front of the Sphinx, who was looking down upon them with a most fiendish and terrifying expression. Surrounding this ancient Egyptian Monument were numberless scrolls (many inscribed "[Greek: Dekl.ned--Thanks]") sent there by a forgotten people. UNREDD picked up one of comparatively modern date. It was a strange scroll, full of hieroglyphics and languages of many races. Here was the ancient Greek--and the more modern Arabic. There was something that seemed to be Russian--there a line that might be antediluvian Irish. All jumbled up together, in seemingly hopeless confusion.

"See," cried UNREDD, excitedly, "I can make out 'When is the door of the neighbour'"--and then he stopped.

"Quite so," replied SPOYLPAPEROS, "but it has no answer. Stay though--what is this? "The duck of the gardener (gardener's duck) puts his head into the pond belonging to the grandmother of the sailor (sailor's grandmother) for the reasons of the diver (diver's reasons.) This is very strange!"

"Indeed, it is," acquiesced UNREDD, and then he cried, on making a farther discovery, "See the Author's name!"

And then they found inscribed on the scroll a word written as follows:--

[Greek: OLLENDORPh].

Perfectly bewildered, they threw the paper away. Then a strange thing happened. All of a sudden, with one accord, they put to the Sphinx the question that _He-who-must-be-obeyed_ had asked them. The mouth of the head seemed to move, and one of the huge eyelids appeared to quiver. Moreover, it made a quaint gesture with the assistance of a palm-tree. Then came a voice, saying, in hieroglyphics--

There was a pause, and then UNREDD, in consultation with his companion, deciphered the meaning.

"You be blowed?" they both shouted, and the Sphinx gravely inclined its head. Then, of a sudden, after jumping from one mountain-top to another mountain-top, clinging to a precipice by their eyebrows, and sliding down a glacier and an avalanche, the two travellers came to the source of nothing, or, to use the local name, the source of the Nihil.

"When is a door not a door?" they asked, impelled as if by some hidden power.

In a moment the most beautiful Joke that ever was known appeared before them. It had the semblance of something they had seen before--lovely beyond compare. A flood of liquid laughter followed, and the Joke bathed in it, dancing about in the merry mixture most joyously. It was a dread and wonderful sight.

They felt that but half their task was accomplished--but only half. Had not _He-who-must-be-obeyed_ ordered them to seek out the solution of the Great Conundrum? That Great Conundrum had lived through the ages. It had been known to the Romans and the Greeks, and had died (for a while) with the Dead Languages. It had been buried in the land of the Assyrians, from whence had come a kindred spirit, the precursor of the Hibernian bull. That bull, which was in the changing seasons to cause roars of mighty merriment echoing into the far ages of the Future from the distant dimples of the Past. So, after their first surprise, they welcomed the gladsome Presence. They watched it as it jumped and leaped in the flood of liquid laughter. They were mad with a nameless delight, and danced round and round in a wild delirium of quaint possibilities! The Joke smiled upon them, and seemed to recognise in them the followers of the Great _Jo-Mill-Ar_, or _One-who-has-caused-the-dullest-dogs to-shake-their-heavy-sides-with-tuneless-laughter_.

Then the Joke grew in comeliness. The Question was only half of its stature--it required the Answer. They felt that the reply would come with the mighty murmur of merriment that the Writer and the Sketcher had already noticed. At length it was upon them. The Answer came!----

"When it is _an egress_."

"Look!--look!--look!" shrieked UNREDD.

_The Joke was growing old before their eyes!_ The wit was shrivelling up! The fun was evaporating! Smaller and smaller it grew, until it was nearly gone.

"I will not die!" came a cry. "Generations yet unborn shall hear me. Many shall think me good--many shall be amused. Oh--h--h!" and the Joke had fallen flat! They knew its real name, then--it was "_Ded an-Gone, the Jest Departed_." And now it was still!

"_In a moment the most beautiful Joke that ever was known appeared before them. It had the semblance of something they had seen before--lovely beyond compare. A flood of liquid laughter followed, and the Joke bathed in it, dancing about in the merry mixture most joyously. It was a dread and wonderful sight._"]

And so were UNREDD and SPOYLPAPEROS. Alas! for their melancholy fate--they had died of laughter! They had their desert!

* * * * *

INCIDENT IN THE INDIAN SPORTING TOUR OF ALIBI PASHA (COLONEL ALIAS ALIBI).

SIR,--You were sending your Correspondents all over the world, and you never did a better thing than when you summoned me to your presence, and said, "Colonel, are you ready?" and I replied, "I am!" If it hadn't been for my uncommon clearness of vision, the party of detectives whom you sent out in search of me would never have discovered me in my rocky lair on the southern coast of Cornwall, to which secluded spot I had for a time retreated, your Colonel _en retraite_, the only time he ever retreated in his life, and then not from foes, but from too many and too kind friends, in order to scheme out at my leisure a new and original plan for tracing the real and only source of the Nile at half the cost of STANLEY'S expedition, with double the profits. "The _Genuine Nile Water Company Limited_," and the "_Nile Sauce for Cheops and Steaks_," will be two of the greatest financial successes of this or any other time.

"Yeo ho, my boys! Yeo ho!" I shouted from the height above to four toiling minions in the cockle-shell of a boat below. My! how glad they were. Odds Colonels and cockle-shells! but, it I hadn't exerted my lungs, they'd have returned disconsolate to you, as you were waiting at the railway station, with your baggage all labelled, and your dog _Toby_ waving adieux to your followers. What a wigging they'd have got! But, seeing me, you smiled as you wert wont to smile, and in two-twos the historic question was asked--"Colonel, are you ready?" (as I have already reminded you), and the equally historic answer had been given, "I am!"

My weapons and my sporting togs are always at hand, packed for travelling at the shortest possible notice. And here let me remark to you that, when you were in the desert, had you been armed with my patent revolving, twenty-times-a-second, double-action repeating rifle, the strange story of the conflict between yourself and the ostrich would have been utterly impossible. Excuse me, Sir, but, as it is, I consider it scarcely within the bounds of probability. I know probability will take big bounds, and I'm a bit of a traveller myself, but your escape uninjured from that wild bird, and the escape also of TOBY, who is not a sporting dog, is one of the strangest tales on record, by the side of which, perhaps, even the daring exploit, which I am now about to narrate as a plain unvarnished tale, may seem a mere ordinary, every-day occurrence. But to proceed.

To India. I promised you my diary of sports and pastimes from the moment of my arrival. Here it is, from the first day to the moment of my posting you the last scrap by special messenger. Now, to commence * * * (_We omit the first six hundred pages._) * * * The next day SWINDLAH KHAN came to my Kabob where I was sitting, wiling away the time by teaching my favourite Cheetah the three-card trick, which the sagacious animal can now perform as easily as if he were the learnedest pig in Europe--(I am bringing him over, to back him for matches of this sort in England--shall probably get up a company to work it--Learned Pig and Cheetah Company (Limited). Capital, £280,000,000--but of this, more anon)--and, after accepting the _puffum_, which is always offered to a visitor filled and lighted, SWINDLAH waited for me to open the conversation.

"SWINDLAH, mebhoy," said I, addressing him familiarly, in his own native language, in which I am a proficient, and shall now give a translation, "What's up?"

"ALIBI PASHA," he replied, bending his head, and looking out of the corner of his eyes--a trick he has when he means mischief--(I know the old rascal by this time)--"Is it on or off?"

For the moment I had forgotten our wager of the previous night. I confess I had imbibed so much _loshun_ that for once and away I was not quite certain whether I was actually sober or not--nor, indeed, did I decide the point until I had argued it out myself, and settled that, if I went to bed in my _bhootahs_ (worn here on the foot, and very much worn under it), I must be more or less inebriated, but that, if I assumed the ordinary _shimmy dinnee_--(do you remember my song on this Indian night-habit, to the tune of "_Bonnie Dundee_"?--it was in the cold weather, when the stinging winter night-fly is about, and I couldn't find the article of apparel anywhere,--

Then haul down my curtains, and call up my men,
And search every cupboard agen and agen.
It has a frilled border as far as the knee--
It's the prettiest thing is my _shimmy dinwee_.

But, as I didn't quote this to SWINDLAH KHAN, I only allude to it here, and you will find it _in extenso_, as they did in the linen-press, further on, during the course of these Memoirs)--and retired to my _dhownee_ (bed), I must be all right. _Dhownee_ v. _Bhootah_, and the first won. Yet next morning it was with difficulty I could exactly recall the term of the wager.

"Yes, SWINDLAH," says I. "It is the Wild Hog Hunt to which you are alluding." He bowed. "Fifty thousand lakhs of rupees," I continued, "which your executors pay to mine in case you come to grief, or mine to yours in case the like happens to me." Again he bowed, and I went on. "And if we both survive, the money is paid to whichever of us two kills the Wild Hog of Ghrûntah." We shook hands over it. I didn't, as a rule, shake hands with SWINDLAH KHAN, who was the veriest old thief in all India, and an abominably cruel tyrant into the bargain.

The fact is, that this Wild Hog, which from time to time ravaged various parts of the country that trembled under the sway of SWINDLAH, was secretly fed, kept alive, and incited to ferocity by the minions of the cunning despot, who, when he wanted a larger loan than usual, or coveted the property of some private person, would privately order this Hog to be starved for a fortnight, and then suddenly let out to run a-muck.

Naturally the poor natives, and the rich ones too for the matter of that, clamoured for protection at the hands of their ruler, who pretended he could see no other way of dealing with the difficulty than by raising a force of sharpshooters, armed with lances and bows and arrows, no guns being permitted, as the noise would disturb the SWINDLAH, who, about this time, invariably feigned to be laid up at home with a bilious headache. His subjects had to subscribe for the support of these sporting warriors, and the money came in from all quarters into SWINDLAH'S treasury for the purpose of killing this formidable scourge. The presence of this Wild Hog obstructed trade, as no Travellers, commercial or otherwise, would run the risk of encountering this dangerous monster. Of course, the Hog was never killed, as to have put an end to its existence would have been analogous to killing the Goose that laid the Golden Eggs. When I came into the country, SWINDLAH did his best to entrap me. I had thirty of the narrowest escapes that ever man experienced. (_Here we omit 1200 pages of this most thrilling narrative._) SWINDLAH had dared me to kill the Wild Hog alone: I had replied, "Yes, but it must be worth my while. So make it a bet, which will slay the beast, you or I, and I'm on. And the entire beast must be brought back as evidence. A leg, or a tusk, or an eye, or a bristle won't do. It must be the whole Hog or none."

As I have said, so 'twas done. The barbarous SWINDLAH had determined on collaring my coin, and taking my life. He had secreted men in the jungles, in the passes, on the mountain-tops, to spear me, arrow me, shoot me,--if they could. What did I care? I had the whole country at my back, for they were ready to rise as one man--(and, as a matter of fact, only one man did rise, and he was beheaded at once by the nearest native policeman, who afterwards apologised handsomely to the family for the mistake),--and take vengeance on the tyrant. But this depended on my success; otherwise, so crushed and craven were even the noblest spirits among them, they dared not move one little finger. Shall I proceed? Yes. I bore a charmed life. The Wild Hog was wilder than ever. Mounted on my good old mare, _Wheezer_, which had carried me over many a stiff country in Old England, and accompanied by my faithful hound, _Yelpa_, I sought out the wild beast in his lair. SWINDLAH himself came by a circuitous route.

Suddenly there was an awful roar--I call it a roar, but it was really the noise of a volcano in action--and the place shook as though in the throes of an earthquake. Above me, on a rock, on the other side of a ravine (eighty feet by fifty) stood the huge monster, hideous, raging, tearing up roots, trees, stocks, stones, anything and everything. In all my life I never saw such a horrid boar! "At him, _Yelpa!_" I cried, giving at the same time my well-known whistle of attack. _Yelpa_ cleared the ravine at a bound. Then followed an awful struggle. SWINDLAH below looked up in delight. "If the dog kills him, it's no bet!" he shouted.

"Come on, and kill him yourself, if you can!" I cried, putting _Wheezer_ at the leap. My brave mare needed no spurs.

At that moment _Yelpa_ missed his footing and fell. In less than the 100th part of a second I had lassoed him round the collar, and saved my gallant and faithful friend; but there was no time for attending to his wounds, as at that instant the Wild Hog, frantic with rage, sprang from the rock straight at me, mouth open and bristles erect. One billionth part of a second of suspense, and the next minute my pig-sticking spear had passed through him, and _Wheezer_, I, and the Hog sank exhausted on the other side of the ravine, just as a shriek broke on my ear, and I was able to see that SWINDLAH'S underbred horse having refused a narrower place lower down, had, in consequence (for this, strange as it may appear, was the first time that braggart SWINDLAH had ever been out riding) pitched SWINDLAH right over his head into the abyss below. I returned home in triumph. Bonfires and rejoicings all night. Torch and Nautch till daybreak. No one thought of looking for SWINDLAH till next morning, when nothing was found of him except his turban. His horse was browsing peacefully within a few yards of the spot where SWINDLAH had disappeared. The money I had fairly won was never paid, but the nobility and gentry subscribed towards a medal, which was struck in commemoration of the event. I send one to you, one to the Vatican, and a third to the British Museum. I need hardly say that after this--(_We omit the remainder, as the work will probably be published in full at some future time_).

* * * * *

1889 1890

A MERRY CHRISTMAS,
AND
A HAPPY NEW YEAR!
]

* * * * *

"Much have I seen and known; cities of men
And manners, climates, councils, governments,
Myself not least, but honour'd of them all."--TENNYSON'S
"_Ulysses_."
]

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Transcriber's Note

^ represents a superscript.

= = represents bold text; _ _ represents italic text.

Calendar, October: | 14| Tu | B. Senlac |

The Battle of Senlac is now more correctly known as the Battle
of Hastings (1066). (See 'Feudal England' by J. H. Round - 1895).

There are some differences in spelling of the same name within
an article, which may have been deliberate, and have
been retained.

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