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    Punch or the London Charivari, Vol. 93, September 3, 1887
    Punch or the London Charivari, Vol. 93, September 3, 1887
    Punch or the London Charivari, Vol. 93, September 3, 1887
    Ebook100 pages49 minutes

    Punch or the London Charivari, Vol. 93, September 3, 1887

    By Various Various and F. C. (Francis Cowley) Burnand

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    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherArchive Classics
    Release dateNov 25, 2013
    Punch or the London Charivari, Vol. 93, September 3, 1887

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      Punch or the London Charivari, Vol. 93, September 3, 1887 - Various Various

      The Project Gutenberg EBook of Punch or the London Charivari, Vol. 93,

      September 3, 1887, by Various

      This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with

      almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or

      re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included

      with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org

      Title: Punch or the London Charivari, Vol. 93, September 3, 1887

      Author: Various

      Release Date: August 12, 2009 [EBook #29679]

      Language: English

      *** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PUNCH ***

      Produced by Lesley Halamek, Malcolm Farmer and the Online

      Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net

      Punch, or the London Charivari

      Volume 93, September 3rd 1887

      edited by Sir Francis Burnand

      SOME NOTES AT STARMOUTH.

      3 p.m.—Arrive at Starmouth—the retired Watering-place at which I propose to write the Nautical Drama that is to render me famous and wealthy. Leave luggage at Station, and go in search of lodgings. Hotel out of the question—table d'hôte quite fatal to inspiration. On the Esplanade, noting likely places with critical eye. Perhaps I am a little fastidious. What I should really like is a little cottage; two bow-windows, clematis on porch, flagstaff, and cannon (if it wouldn't go off) in front. I could achieve immortality in a place like that. Sea-view, of course, indispensable. Must be within sight of the ever-changing ocean, within hearing of the innumerable laughter of the waves—I know what the phrase means, though I shouldn't like to have to explain it, and the waves just now are absolutely roaring.

      Down by the Sea.

      3·15.—Still noting; plenty of time, and Starmouth all before me where to choose. More than a mile of Esplanade, and several brass plates and cards advertising Apartments. Must be cautious—not throw the handkerchief in a hurry. Haven't seen the ideal place yet.

      3·30.—Better make a beginning. Try Blenheim House (all the houses here either bear ducal, naval, or frankly plebeian names, I observe). Ring: startling effect—grey-mouldy old person, with skeleton hands folded on woollen tippet, glides in a ghastly manner down passage. They really ought to put up a warning to people with nerves, as M. Van Beers does at his Salon Parisien. Feel as if I had raised a ghost. Wonder if she waits on lodgers—if so, my dinners will be rather like the banquet Gulliver had at Laputa. Has she rooms to let at once? No? "Oh!" Well out of that!

      3·45.—Warming to my work. Ring at door in Amelia Terrace. Maid appears—nice-looking girl, rather. Have you—I begin—when I see a boy at the ground-floor window. Don't object to boys, as a class, but this particular boy is pallid, with something round his throat, and an indescribable air about him of conscious deadliness, and pride in the unusual terror he inspires, which can only be accounted for by recent Measles. Never under the same roof with that boy! He eyes me balefully, and I stare back, fascinated. Have you, I begin again—(I am full of resource, thank goodness!) a Mrs. Walker—(first appropriate name that occurs to me)—staying here? By a horrible coincidence, they have! She has taken the ground-floor—where that boy is! Awkward—very.... I manage to gasp out, Then will you please mention that I called? and retire before she can ask my name. Presence of mind, again!

      4 p.m.—Still seeking. Not so fastidious as I was. Have given up the cottage, and clematis, and flagstaff. Only place answering that description belongs—or so I inferred, from his language—to a retired sea-captain, whom I disturbed in his nap to inquire whether he let lodgings. As it happened, he didn't. Then (as I very nearly went back and told him) what right had he to sport a brass plate? However, I got some good racy dialogue for the Nautical Drama out of him.

      4·15.—More failures. Starmouth busy digesting, which it does publicly in bow-windows. I must not be so particular. I will do without balconies—even bow-windows—but I cannot, I will not, sit on horsehair furniture.

      4·20.—After all, so long as I get a sea-view, what matters? I can be

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