[Illustration]
Ostend must be a glorious place. From an advertisement which has
appeared in an evening contemporary I gather that "the multitude,
anxious to spend an elegant and fashionable sojourn in the country,
has rendered itself this year at Ostend. It is a long time since such
an opulent clientèle has been united in a seaside resort. At the fall
of day the vast terraces of the fashionable restaurants, situated
along the sea-bank, present a fairy aspect. There is quite a confusion
of dazzling costumes upon which sparkle thousand gems, and all this
handsome cosmopolitan society passes through the saloons of the Kursaal
Club, in which one hears spoken all known languages as at Babel and
Monte Carlo, and of which the attractions are identical to those of
the latter place." This is the first time I have heard of a similarity
to Babel being mentioned as an attraction. But no doubt an opulent
clientèle has peculiar tastes of its own, especially when its dazzling
costumes sparkle with thousand gems.
* * * * *
In a small Belgian town (naturally not Ostend) I once saw the following
notice hung over the door of a washerwoman's establishment:--
Anglish linge tooke here from 1 sou
Shert, cols, soaks, sleep-shert, pokets.
I eet my hatt.
The last sentence puzzled me for a long time. Finally I came to the
conclusion that it was not intended so much to be a statement of actual
fact as an enticement to English people, who would of course take all
their washing to a lady commanding so gay and accurate a knowledge of
an English catch-phrase.
* * * * *
My third example of English as she is spoke is from a notice issued by
an out-of-the-way hotel in Italy, which had changed its management:--
The nobles and noblesses traveller are beg to tell that the direction
of this splendid hotel have bettered himself. And the strangers will
also find high comforting luxuries, hot cold water coffee bath and
all things of perfect establishment and at prices fixed. Table d'hôte
best of Italy France everywere. Onclean linens is quick wash and
every journals is buy for readers. Beds hard or soaft at the taste of
traveller. Soaps everywere plenty. Very cheaper than other hotel. No
mosquits no parrot no rat.
* * * * *
And this (though the connection is not, at first sight, very clear)
brings me to the Vicar of Sparkbrook. Only the other day he was
presiding at a meeting held in aid of the funds of the Christ Church
(Sparkbrook) Day Schools. Alluding to the importance of maintaining
Church Schools, he said (I quote from a Birmingham paper) that "though
he did not want to touch on politics, he must express his thankfulness
that they had a Government in power which was favourable to Church
Schools, and which was pledged to construct, and not to destruct."
The Vicar's feeling for emphasis is admirable. The sentence gains
immeasurably in force by the perversion "destruct." And we ought to be
specially grateful to him for refraining from the other alternative. If
he had said, as it was open for him to say, "which was pledged not to
destroy, but to constroy," the effect would have been terrible.
* * * * *
I was staying at a London hotel a short time ago and had occasion to
write a letter in the public reading-room. Sitting down to one of
the writing-tables and opening the portfolio I found that a previous
occupant had left in it an unfinished letter which, with all necessary
apologies, I here transcribe in full:
MY DARLING HARRY,--I am fading like a flower deprived of
its natural nourishment without you, my darling, my own little
sniperpop----
[Illustration]
Now what, in the name of Dr. SAMUEL JOHNSON, can a "sniperpop"
be?
* * * * *
How shall I name you? Darling, dove,
Partridge (or any other bird)
Are not the names I seek, my love;
I want just one caressing word,
One word which, whether old or new,
Shall prove my depth of love for you.
Without it all my power is gone,
Without my own I feebly fade:
In vain I turn the lexicon,
The word I want is not yet made.
Must I entreat, to ease my pain,
Divine Philology in vain?
Ah, little nowadays it boots
To imitate primeval man;
Our Aryan ancestors had roots
With which to formulate their plan.
They used them all--they had their fun--
And left us not a single one.
Yet, oh my HARRY, something tells
Your own she may, she must succeed--
What's this? Yes, yes, ring out the bells;
From grief's dark thunder-cloud I'm freed.
No longer shall I droop or drop--
_Eureka_, "little Sniperpop."
* * * * *
In the _Newcastle Daily Journal_ I read that "for some time a
certain amount of feeling has existed at Crawcrook on the question
of horse-shoeing." This culminated in a challenge by JOSEPH
DELAFIELD to GEORGE LATHAN, both these gentlemen being
master blacksmiths. A match for £5 was soon made, "each man to shoe the
foot of a draught-horse in the quickest and best style." Here there
must be some mistake, since if each man did the job in the quickest
and best style, the result obviously must be a dead heat. However "the
match commenced on Saturday morning at the shop of LATHAN.
After LATHAN finished his work, which occupied forty-three
minutes, the horse was driven to the shop of DELAFIELD, who
occupied forty-one minutes in the operation. Large crowds were on the
spot to witness the match. Mr. JOHN CHAPMAN of Whittonstall,
the judge, gave his decision in favour of LATHAN."
* * * * *
There is something very sporting and attractive about all this. One man
wins the match, the other can console himself by the reflection that he
had two minutes the better of it on time. There seems to have been no
grumbling, and (although the fact is not stated) I have no doubt the
parties met at an enthusiastic dinner in the evening and toasted the
good old English sport of horse-shoeing. The authorities at Oxford and
Cambridge might do worse than institute a horse-shoeing competition
between teams of undergraduates, who would of course strike blue nails
into blue shoes with blue hammers. A "blazer" would be particularly
appropriate to such a contest.
* * * * *