Punch, or the London Charivari, Vol. 108, June 22nd, 1895

I observe, with deep regret, that Professor LLOYD, of Southport, has been fined for trespassing on a railway bridge at Preston. The Professor did not want to stay there. All he wished to do, and all that he actually did, was to dive off into the water below. He is an aquatic Professor, and informed the Bench that he was obliged to do these things to keep up his reputation.

I'll tell you a tale of Professor LLOYD, Who dived off a bridge at Preston-- An act that the magistrates much annoyed, Though he kept both his coat and vest on. They said "You mustn't repeat this joke, Professor, or else you'll rue it." But LLOYD, the Professor, he up and spoke, And said, "I'm obliged to do it. Up on the bridge I stand for awhile, I stand till I fairly shiver. Then down I go--it seems like a mile-- And I plunge in the bubbling river. I hope your worships won't "queer my pitch," For I'm sorry to give you trouble In maintaining a reputation which Is so closely combined with bubble."

I wish I had been in Hawick lately. Ever since I first learnt the rudiments of the English language I have been haunted by a desire to know how a man looked and acted when he "bussed the Standard." They've done that at Hawick "in connection," as I read, "with the celebration of the ancient custom of the Common Riding." Later on "the local slogan '_Teribus_' was sung with great vigour." There is something crushing, scattering, and battle-heralding about the mere sound of that fearful word.

J. B., who describes himself as "A Residenter in Oswald Road," writes to The Scotsman to complain of the flimsy material used in the construction of the lamp-posts near his dwelling. The other day a milk-van ran away--at least, the horse drawing it did. "One would think," says J. B., "the progress of such a small vehicle would have been arrested by coming into collision with one lamp-post, but four posts were destroyed by the van. On examination it is found that the foundation of a street lamp-post only goes three inches into the stone below it. With such a short hold the lamp-post is easily toppled over." Of course it is. To fix lamp-posts so inadequately gives a direct encouragement to milk-vans to run away and attempt their destruction. Let the Lord Provost of Edinburgh look to it.

The Master and the Matron of the workhouse at Stratford-on-Avon have resigned, and the guardians have been "considerably discussing" the appointment of their successors. Eventually it was resolved, not only to reduce the salaries, but also--hear this, ye licensed victuallers!--to cut off the beer-money hitherto paid. What dignity can possibly attach to a workhouse officer who has to pay for his own beer? It is by such insidious attacks as this that the foundations of public confidence are shaken, and the whole fabric of the Constitution is endangered. My mind misgives me when I attempt to forecast the future of Stratford.

At Tetbury there is a lodge of the recently-established Conservative Working Men's Benefit Society. It is called--_absit omen_--the Trouble House Lodge, and quite recently it held a fête and dinner. 'Tis always _fête_-day somewhere in the world. Indeed, the amount of fêtes that take place on any given day in provincial England is astounding. Without frequent fêtes no district can be considered respectable.

In the world that we live in our troubles are great; To add to their number is scarcely the game. Nay, how can these lodgers delight in their fête, With perpetual trouble attached to their name?

At Owens College, Manchester, so I gather from the letter of "An Old Student" in The Manchester Guardian, some of the students are beginning to feel, that "while its teaching of specific subjects is admirable, in fact, unsurpassed, its general education--that education which consists in the development of men--has not yet reached the same level." They therefore wish to develop athletics, and by making the modest subscription of 10_s._ 6_d._ compulsory on all, "to decoy the unathletic man into taking exercise almost without knowing it." At present only 150 out of 800 students pay up. I heartily commend this proposal, though I confess I should like to know what sort of exercise it is that a man can take almost without knowing it. Let the unathletic man be decoyed by all means, but let him thoroughly understand that he is to take exercise, and take it, if possible, with reasonable violence.

MR. N. F. DRUCE, of Cambridge, is, as I write, at the head of the batting averages of this year, and next to him comes the marvellous W. G.

Ye batsmen attend, of my hints make a use, And consider the greatness of GRACE and of DRUCE. If you wish to make hundreds your names, you'll agree Must be monosyllabic and end with c, e.

Cher Monsieur,--Last year I am gone to your races of Ascot. It is beautiful, it is ravishing, but how it is dear! Thousand thunders, how it is dear! I go to the Grand Prix, I pay twenty francs, that is also dear, but it is all, it is finished. Eh well, I desire to see one time your Gold Cup, and I go of good hour by railway. Arrived there I pay one pound, that what you call one sov., and I enter. I suppose I can go by all--_partout_, how say you? Ah, but no! I see by all some affiches "One Pound."

I can to write your language enough well, but I speak with much of difficulty. Therefore I read the affixes without nothing to ask. Thus when I read "One Pound" I go no more far. I walk myself in the charming garden and I see the beautiful misses. Ah how they are adorable! DAUDET has wrong, DAUDET is imbecile, they are adorable. It is not the pain to pay again some pounds for to see to run the horses, when I can to see the misses who walk themselves here, without to pay of more.

But in fine I am fatigued. Also I have great hunger, for it is the hour of the déjeuner. But without doubt one is obliged to pay one pound before to enter the bar. My word, I will not! I shall not pay one sov., and more, for a squashed lemon and a bun of Bath. I go to smoke at place of that, and I walk myself at the shade all near of an arch.

All of a blow all the world lifts himself and comes very quick towards me. I cannot escape, I am carried away by the crowd, I arrive to the arch. I think "_Du courage, AUGUSTE mon cher! Sois calme! S'il y a encore une livre à payer----_" But there is no sov., and I pass. Thousand thunders! What is, then, this noise? Is he a revolution, a riot of Anarchists? Ah, no! It are the bookmakers. The bookmakers in the midst of the ladies! Hold, it is droll! And I pay one sov. to stand with those men there! It is too strong! I go more far, I pass the barrier, I am alone on the grass. I go to left. I see some men, in a cage of iron, who cry also. It is--how say you?--"Tatersal." Then, ah heaven, I arrive at the true Pesage! Not of burgesses, not of villain beasts of bookmakers, not even of "Tatersals." But partout the ladies the most beautiful, the most charming, the most adorable! It is there I go! Even if I pay one sov., two sovs., three sovs., I go!

I essay to enter. The policeman stops me. I say, "One pound?" and I offer to him one sov. He looks all around, and then he says, quite low, "No good, Sir--the inspector's looking." I say, "She is good, that pound there, I assure you of it. Is there two to pay?" And I hold one other. Then the inspector comes and says I bribe the policeman. I say that no. He says that yes. I am furious. I say I pay the entrance. He says, "Get off the course." I refuse. He pushes me. I resist. Other policemen push me. Just heaven, they force me to go! I cannot resist. Then all the people in face cry furiously. They shout "Welshman!" How they are stupid! Can they think that I am a Welshman--me, AUGUSTE? Ah, that it is droll! Then the policemen run, and I run also. I wish not to run, but I am forced. And, in fine, we are at the railway station, and they put me in a train, and I arrive to London at three o'clock. See there all that I have seen of your races of Ascot, and I have paid one sov. It costs very dear.

Sincere friendships, AUGUSTE.