(AS FORESEEN BY MR. PUNCH'S SECOND-SIGHTED CLAIRVOYANT.)
_It is the summer of 189-. The scene is a road skirting Victoria Park,
Bethnal Green, which Society's leaders have recently discovered and
appointed as the rendez-vous for the Season, and where it is now the
correct thing for all really smart people to indulge, between certain
prescribed hours, in sports and pastimes that have hitherto been more
characteristic of the masses than the classes. The only permissible
mount now is the donkey, which must be ridden close to the tail, and
referred to as a "moke." A crowd of well-turned-out spectators arrives
from the West End every morning about eleven to watch the brilliant
parade of "Mokestrians" (as the Society journalist will already have
decided to call them). Some drive slowly up and down on coster-barrows,
attended by cockaded and disgusted grooms. About twelve, they break up
into light luncheon parties; after which they play democratic games for
half an hour or so, and drive home on drags._
MR. WOODBY-INNETT (_to the DONKEY PROPRIETOR_). Kept a moke for me? I
told you I should be wantin' one every mornin' now.
The DONKEY PROPRIETOR (_after consulting engagement book_). I've not got
it down on my list, Sir. Very sorry, but the Countess of Cumberback has
just booked the last for the 'ole of this week. Might let you 'ave one
by-and-by, if Sir Hascot Goodwood brings his in punctual, but I can't
promise it.
MR. WOODBY-INN. That's no good; no point in ridin' after the right time.
(_To himself, as he turns away._) Nuisance! Not that I'm so keen about a
moke. Not a patch on a bike!--though it don't do to say so. Only if I'd
known this, I'd have turned up in a tall hat and frock coat; and then I
could have taken a turn on the steam-circus. Wonder if it would be any
sort of form shyin' at cocoa-nuts in tweeds and a straw hat. Must ask
some chap who knows. More puzzlin' what to put on this year than ever!
LADY RANELA HURLINGHAM (_breathlessly to DONKEY PROPRIETOR_). That's
mine, isn't it? Will you please put me up, and _promise_ me you'll keep
close behind and make him run. (_Suppliantly._) You will, _won't_ you?
The DONKEY PROPRIETOR (_with a due sense of his own value_). Well, I
dessay I can come along presently, Lady 'Urlingham, and fetch 'im a
whack or two; jest now I can't, having engaged to come and 'old the
Marshiness of 'Ammercloth on _'er_ moke; but there, you orter be able
to git along well enough by yourself now--_you_ ought!
[Illustration: "Mokestrians."]
CAPTAIN SONBYRNE (_just home on leave from India--to MRS.
CHESHAM-LOWNDES_). Rather an odd sort of idea this--I mean, coming all
the way out here to ride a lot of donkeys, eh?
MRS. CHESHAM-LOWNDES. It used to be rather amusing a month ago, before
they all got used to riding so near the tail; but now they're all so
good at it, don't you know.
CAPT. SONB. I went down to Battersea Park yesterday to see the
bicyclists. Not a soul there, give you my word!
MRS. C.-L. No; there _wouldn't_ be _this_ season. You see, all sorts and
conditions of people began to take it up, and it got too fearfully
common. And now moke-riding has quite cut it out.
CAPT. SONB. But why ride donkeys when you can get gees?
MRS. C.-L. Oh, well, they're democratic, and cheap, and all that, don't
you know. And one really can't be _seen_ on a horse this year--in town,
at least. In the country it don't matter so much.
FIRST MOKESTRIAN (_to second ditto_). Hullo, old chap, so _you_'ve taken
to a moke at last, eh? How are you gettin' on?
SECOND MOKESTRIAN. Pretty well. I can sit on his tail all right now, but
I can't get into the way of keepin' my heels off the ground yet, it's so
beastly difficult.
_Fragments from_ SPECTATORS. That's rather a smart barrow Lady
Barinrayne's drivin' to-day.... Who's the fellow with her, with the
paper feather in his pot-hat? Bad style, _I_ call it.... That's Lord
Freddy Fugleman--best dressed man in London. You'll see everybody
turnin' up in a paper feather in a day or two.... Lot of men seem to be
using a short clay as a cigarette-holder now, don't they?... Yes, Roddie
Rippingill introduced the idea last week, and it seems to have caught
on. [_&c._, _&c._]
_After Luncheon; at the Steam-Circus and other Sports._
_Scraps of Small-talk._ No end sorry, Lady Gwendolen; been tryin' to get
you a scent-squirt everywhere; but they're all gone; such a run on 'em
for Ascot, don't you know.... Thanks; it doesn't matter; only dear Lady
Buckram has just thrown some red ochre down the back of my neck, and
Algy Vere came and shot out a coloured paper thing right in my face, and
I shouldn't like to seem uncivil.... Suppose I shall see you at Lady
Brabazon's "Kiss in the Ring" at Bethnal Green to-morrow afternoon?...
I believe she _did_ send us cards, but we promised to look in at a
friendly lead the Duchess of Dillwater is giving at such a dear little
public she's discovered in Whitechapel, so we may be rather late....
You'll keep a handkerchief-throw for me if you _do_ come on, won't
you?... It will have to be an _extra_, then, I'm afraid.... Are you
goin' to Lord Balmisyde's eight o'clock breakfast to-morrow? _So_ glad;
I hear he's engaged five coffee-stalls, and we're all to stand up and
eat saveloys and trotters and thick bread and butter.... Oh, I wanted to
ask you, my girls have got an invitation to a hoky-poky party the
Vavasours are giving after the moke-ridin' next Thursday, and I'm told
it's quite wrong to eat hoky-poky with a spoon--do you know how that
is?... The only _correct_ way, Caroline, is to lick it out of the glass,
which requires practice before it can be _attempted_ in public. But I
hear there's quite a pleasant boy-professor somewhere in the Mile End
Road who teaches it in a single lesson; he's _very_ moderate; his terms
are only half a guinea, which includes the hoky-poky. I'll send you his
address if I can find it.... Thanks _so_ much; the dear girls _will_ be
so grateful to you.... I _do_ think it's _quite_ too bad of Lady
Geraldine Grabber, she goes and sticks her card on the only decent
wooden horse in the steam-circus and says she's engaged it for the whole
time, though she hardly ever takes a round! And so many girls standing
out who can ride without getting in the _least_ giddy!... Rathah a
boundah, that fellow, if you ask me; I've _seen_ him pullin' a swing
boat in brown boots and ridin'-breeches!... How wonderfully well your
daughter throws the rings, dear Lady Cornelia, I hear she's won three
walking-sticks and five clasp knives.... You're very kind. She is quite
clever at it; but then she's had some private coaching from a gipsy,
don't you know.... What are you going to do with yourself this
afternoon?... Oh, I'm going to the People's Palace to see the finals
played off for the Skittles Championship; bound to be a closish thing;
rather excitin', don't you know.... Ah, Duchess, you've been in form
to-day, I see, five cocoa-nuts! Can I relieve you of some of them?...
Thanks, they _are_ rather tiresome to carry; if you _could_ find my
carriage and tell the footman to keep his eye on them. [_&c._, _&c._]
LADY ROSEHUGH (_to MR. LUKE WALMER, on the way home_). You know I _do_
think it's _such_ a cheering sign of the times, Society getting simpler
in its tastes, and sharing the pleasures of the Dear People, and all
that; it must tend to bring all classes more _together_, don't you know!
MR. LUKE WALMER. Perhaps. Only I was thinking, I don't remember seeing
any of the Dear People _about_.
LADY ROSEHUGH. No; somebody was telling me they had taken to playing
Polo on bicycles in Hyde Park. So extraordinary of them--such a pity
they haven't some higher form of amusement, you know!
[Illustration]