"!" exclaimed Miss NELLY EATON, suddenly, with her quivering nostril.
"?" I asked with my right eyebrow, rousing myself from a fit of
abstraction.
She pointed at a young man who had just strolled past our seats in the
Row without noticing her. He was dressed in the height of fashion, and
was accompanied by a lady in very smart attire.
"..." explained NELLY, with her mouth tightly shut.
[Illustration: "Taught him to smoke."]
I looked at her, and gathered by a swift process of intuition that she
had _made_ that boy, and taught him to drink and smoke--of course, in
moderation; had got his hair cut, and had rescued him from an
adventuress. From her he had learnt not to go to Monday Pops, nor to
carry things about in brown paper--in fact, he owed everything to
her.... And now----!
"§" I visibly commented, not knowing for the moment how else to express
myself. In fact I was getting just a trifle out of my depth. However, I
gazed again at her.... Yes, she had deeply eloquent blue eyes, fringed
with dark eyelashes, that voiced forth every emotion! Stay, I am afraid
that in my admiration my speechless remarks had wandered from the topic
of our mute discussion.
"[+]" interjected her pitying but impatient glance, telling me that my
devotion was useless.
I looked very miserable. It is generally understood that I am the most
miserable of men since Miss EATON'S engagement to an American
millionaire.
[Here I am sorry to say that our dialogue becomes somewhat elliptical,
owing to the difficulty of finding enough unappropriated printers'
symbols to represent our different shades of silence. However, with
luck, I may be able to scrape together a few more, and come to some sort
of conclusion.]
Let me see--where were we?... Oh, on the subject of the boy and his
companion, who, it seems, were engaged.
"* * *" resumed NELLY, in a look which spoke three volumes. I divined at
once that she had thrown him over, that there had been an awful scene,
and his mother had written a horrid letter, that he had come back and
abjectly apologised, that he said she had destroyed his faith in women
(the usual thing), that he went on sending letters for a whole year: in
fact, that it made her quite uncomfortable.... Really, NELLY can give
points to LORD BURLEIGH'S nod!
"?" inquired my right eye, meaning, had she not been in love with him a
little bit?
Miss NELLY prodded the path with her parasol.
"¿" I asked again, referring to a different person, and, I am afraid,
squinting.
Miss NELLY looked for the fraction of an instant in my direction.
"¿¿" I repeated.
[Illustration]
Miss NELLY looked straight in front of her. There was her _fiancé_, the
American millionaire!
"----! ----!" That is, I smilingly withdrew.
* * * * *
SATISFACTORY REPORTS AS TO THE AMEER.--It was not an illness,
it was "A mere indisposition."
* * * * *
[Illustration: PREHISTORIC PEEPS.
THE ANNUAL FOOTBALL MATCH BETWEEN THE OLD RED SANDSTONE ROVERS AND THE
PLIOCENE WANDERERS WAS IMMENSELY AND DESERVEDLY POPULAR!!]
* * * * *
"HYMEN HYMENÆE!" (_À propos of a Public Favourite_).--_Mr. Punch_ wishes
health and happiness to the bride of Sir WILLIAM GREGORY, known to us
all, during a long and honourable theatrical career in the very first
line of Dramatic Art, as Mrs. STIRLING the incomparable, always of
sterling worth in any piece wherein she took a part. She was always at
her best. Latterly she has been chiefly associated with the _Nurse_ in
_Romeo and Juliet_, and no better representative of the character could
ever have been seen on any stage. Her recent marriage has in it somewhat
of a Shaksperian association, for were not the _Nurse_ and _Gregory_
both together in the same establishment, yclept the noble House of
Capulet? And what more natural that these two should come together, and
"the _Nurse_ to _Juliet_" should become the "wife to _Gregory_"?
* * * * *
"STOPPING" THE WAY IN THE COLONIES.--Where British Colonists are first
in the field, be the field where it may, it is unwise to allow any
non-Britishers to get as far as a semi-colony, but at once they should
be made to come to a full-stop. As it is, Great Britain looks on in a
state of _com(m)a_, only to wake up with a note of exclamation, but not
of admiration, when it is too late to put a note of interrogation.
* * * * *
[Illustration: COMPREHENSIVE.
"WHAT'S _VOLAPUK_, DOCTOR SCHMITZ?"
"IT IS ZE UNIFERSAL LANGVAGE!"
"AND WHO SPEAKS IT?"
"NOPOTTY!"]
* * * * *
"CITY IMPROVEMENTS."--The City isn't likely to lose any chance of a dig
at the L. C. C. Last week, at a meeting of City Commissioners of Sewers
at Guildhall, Alderman GREEN,--not so verdant by any means as the name
would seem to imply,--protested against the great delay on the part of
the L. C. C. in regard to the improvements in Upper Thames Street. So
the London County Council is sitting considering "_dum defluit
ANNUS_"--representing the "_amnis ævi_"--and while Upper Thames Street
is, _pace_ the ever Green Alderman, in a state of stagnation as far as
"improvements" are concerned.
* * * * *
A DROUTH-AND-MOUTH-DISEASE.--A curious disease, originating, it is said,
in the East, has lately baffled medical men. It is called "beriberi."
Introduce another "e" into the first and third syllable, and the name
might serve for that thirsty kind of feverish state with which no
Anti-closing-of-the-public-at-any-time-Society is able to cope.
* * * * *
"PREMATUER?"--Per the _Leadenhall Press_, Mr. TUER is bringing out a
real old Horn-book, that is, a _facsimile_ of the ancient Horn-book. For
years have we longed to see the genuine article. It will be in
Hornamental cover, of course. "_Succès au livre de la corne!_"
* * * * *
"THE AUTOCRAT."