A dozen Infantry privates saunter leisurely into their places,
half-way across the arena, and await events.
Enter Bridging Battalion, Royal Engineers. They bridge over an
old cloth river. The dozen Infantry men wait until the erection is
completed, and then fire a volley. The Sappers return the compliment.
No one hurt, and the dozen retire to the tower-like gateway in the
background. The Artillery at this point rush in and trot over the
newly-erected bridge. They then fire in the direction of the dozen
heroes, but without any apparent result.
Grand charge of Colonial Cavalry, with and without additional men.
They act as Mounted Infantry. They are fired upon--in a half-hearted
sort of way--by the dozen of Infantry seeking shelter in the gateway.
The fire seems to agree with them.
Enter an Ambulance Corps to pick up one of the colonists who has
obligingly been wounded by the blank cartridges of the dozen Infantry.
Sudden appearance of the strength of the entire company. The gateway
is stormed, and the dozen Infantry men are overpowered. Music on the
band--"_Rule Britannia!_" and the _National Anthem_. Great cheering
while some one waves the Union Jack. End of the performances.
There, my dear _Mr. Punch_, that is what I have sent to the "powers
that are" at Islington. Whether it has been accepted or rejected I do
not know. You will be able to see for yourself when the proper time
arrives.
But then, I can assure you, my sketch is _exactly like the real
thing_. It is not unsuggestive of the Battle of Waterloo, the siege of
Sebastopol, or the taking of Pekin. This is my "special information,
as one present on such occasions," and it is heartily at the service
of the Executive. To be worthy of my title, I would beg you to send
me, say, a fiver, or even a sov, or (if that is too much) a dollar.
I do not ask for the money as a gift, but as a loan. I prefer the
latter to the former, although a long experience has taught me that
gift and loan have much the same meaning.
Yours truly,
A VERY OLD SOLDIER.
* * * * *
INAUDIBLE PROCEEDINGS AT THE HOTEL VICTORIA.--We have had "The
Funny Frenchman" over here, at the Albambra, and now we have "The
Calculating Frenchman," M. JACQUES INAUDI, who, last week, at a
_séance_, exhibited his marvellous powers of addition, multiplication,
subtraction, and division. It is an error to suppose that he was
educated for the French Navy, and has been appointed to a ship, which
he was to have adorned as a "wonderful Figure-head." By the side of
this Figure-head the "Calculating Buoy" would have been quite at sea.
* * * * *
[Illustration: DOWN A PEG.
_Mr. Gifted Hopkins (Minor Poet, Essayist, Critic, Golfer,
Fin-de-Siècle Idol, &c.)._ "OH, MRS. SMART--A--I'VE BEEN THINKING, FOR
THE LAST TWENTY MINUTES, OF SOMETHING TO SAY TO YOU!"
_Mrs. Smart (cheerfully)._ "PLEASE GO ON THINKING, MR. HOPKINS,--AND
I'LL GO ON TALKING TO PROFESSOR BRAYNE IN THE MEANTIME!"]
* * * * *