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    Punch, or the London Charivari, Volume 102, June 11, 1892
    Punch, or the London Charivari, Volume 102, June 11, 1892
    Punch, or the London Charivari, Volume 102, June 11, 1892
    Ebook93 pages45 minutes

    Punch, or the London Charivari, Volume 102, June 11, 1892

    By Various Various

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    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherArchive Classics
    Release dateNov 27, 2013
    Punch, or the London Charivari, Volume 102, June 11, 1892

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      Book preview

      Punch, or the London Charivari, Volume 102, June 11, 1892 - Various Various

      The Project Gutenberg eBook, Punch, or the London Charivari, Vol. 102, June 11, 1892, by Various, Edited by F. C. Burnand

      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.net

      Title: Punch, or the London Charivari, Vol. 102, June 11, 1892

      Author: Various

      Release Date: January 16, 2005 [eBook #14707]

      Language: English

      Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1

      ***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI, VOL. 102, JUNE 11, 1892***

      E-text prepared by Malcolm Farmer, William Flis,

      and the Project Gutenberg Online Distributed Proofreading Team

      PUNCH,

      OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.

      Vol. 102.

      June 11, 1892.

      A DAY AT ANTWERP.

      (By the Vacuus Viator.)

      In the Place Verte.—The traveller, according to Bædeker, should at once direct his steps to the Cathedral. Not going to be bullied by Bædeker! Shall assert my independence by directing steps somewhere else first. Carillon tinkling fitfully up in tower. Like an elderly ghost with failing memory, trying to play every tune she ever knew all at once on a cracked, old spinnet. Fancy I detect fragment of "The Heavens are Telling, tripped up by the Old Hundredth, and falling over Haydn's Surprise." Ghost tries back, and just as she seems about to arrive at something definite—suddenly gives it up as hopeless. To Church of St. Paulus, to see the Calvary. Small but highly intelligent Belgian Boy, who speaks English, insists on volunteering services. (Why aren't our street-boys taught French and German in Board Schools?—make all the difference to foreigners in London.) Boy takes me up avenue of heroic-sized scriptural statues, introduces me to Moïse, Dahvit mit de 'arp, and others. Kind of him—but I wish he would go. Offer him twopence. Boy declines with indignation. Young Belgium evidently high-minded and sensitive. He informs me that, in a certain church he refers to as Sin Yack, there are RUBENS' peecture—moch fine, and plainly proposes to conduct me thither. Mustn't hurt his feelings again—so accept. Boy clumps on ahead, down alleys, and through back-streets, and round corners, looking round severely at intervals to see that I am not giving him the slip. Nice friendly little fellow—but despotic. Don't seem to be much nearer; Sin Yack evidently a saint of retiring disposition.... At last. Boy points him out triumphantly. Thank him, with apologies for taking him so much out of his way. Boy demands two francs. Hint, as delicately as possible, that I consider this estimate of the value of his time and society somewhat high. Boy peremptory. Give him fifty centimes. Boy abusive; follows me with uncomplimentary remarks. I can not go about Antwerp all day with a hostile boy harassing my rear like this! So undignified. However, shall find sanctuary with Sin Yack. Every door closed. Boy at a distance—chuckling, I am afraid. Shall walk on—not hurrying, but briskly. Boy gone at last—thank goodness!—with Parthian yelp of Rosbif!

      Rosbif!

      In the Cathedral.—Being shown round by Sacristan, in company with two respectable young Britons. You shee dot oltarbiece, gentlemens, says Sacristan, paint by RUBENS, in seexteen day, for seexteen hondert florin. Whereupon both Britons make a kind of cluck with their tongues. Dat vos von hondert florin efery day he vas paint, explains the Sacristan. Britons do this division sum in their heads, check it as correct, and evidently feel increased respect for RUBENS as capable-for an artist—of driving a good bargain. RUBENS baint him ven he vas seexteen, which younger Briton considers "very creditable to him, too!" They inspect the High Altar, with more clucks, and inform one another, with the air of Protestants who are above prejudice, that it's a marvellous piece o' work,

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