ARRIVAL OF THE CHAMPION. HIS RECEPTION. WHAT HE THINKS OF ENGLAND.

It was somewhere towards "the witching hour of noon" that the broad

and splendid artery of commerce, to wit, the Euston Road, became, for

the nonce, a scene of unwonted, and ever-increasing excitement. Old

Plu[1] had promised, as per Admiral FITZROY'S patent hocus-pocusser,

to give us a taste of his quality; and it is unnecessary, in this

connection, to observe that the venerable disciple of Swithin the

Saint was as good as his word. But Britons never never shall be

slaves. England expected every man to do his duty. Forward the Light

Brigade, and so on to where glory and an express train were waiting,

or would be waiting, before you had time to knock a tenpenny nail on

the head twice. The company on the platform comprised the _élite_ of

the sporting world. "Bluff" TOMMY POPPIN, the ever courteous host of

"The Chequers," "BILL" TOOTWON, by his friends yclept the Masher, JAKE

RUMBELO, the middle-weight World's Champion, were all there, wreathed

in silvery smiles, and all on the nod, on the nod, on the nod, as the

poet hath it, though why "hath it" no man can tell, in words that will

last while Old Sol, the shiner, drives his spanking tits along the

azure road. Punctual to the moment the train steamed into the station,

and the giant form of O'FLAHERTY, the "man in a million," leaped out

of the railway carriage, amid the plaudits of all the blue blood of

England's sports. In answer to inquiries the Champion laughingly

said, "he guessed this was a mighty wet country for a dry man," and

proceeded to the refreshment-room, where he "asked a p'leece-man"--oh

no, not at all, but, "Deep as the rolling Zuyder Zee, he drank the

foaming juice of Grapes." Thence a move was made to the palatial

office of the _Sporting Standard_, where the Champion was introduced

to the Staff. Hands all round followed, and a glorious day wound up

with a visit to the theatrical resorts of the latter-day Babylon,

in company with some of the right sort, though these be getting both

fewer and farther between than in the good old days.

[Footnote 1: An agreeable variant for this is Ju. P.]

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Punch, or the London Charivari, Volume 99, July 26, 1890 · 第 36 / 39 题