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    Punch or the London Charivari, Vol.107, September 1, 1894
    Punch or the London Charivari, Vol.107, September 1, 1894
    Punch or the London Charivari, Vol.107, September 1, 1894
    Ebook90 pages42 minutes

    Punch or the London Charivari, Vol.107, September 1, 1894

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    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherArchive Classics
    Release dateNov 27, 2013
    Punch or the London Charivari, Vol.107, September 1, 1894

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      Book preview

      Punch or the London Charivari, Vol.107, September 1, 1894 - Archive Classics

      The Project Gutenberg EBook of Punch or the London Charivari, Vol.107,

      September 1, 1894, 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.107,  September 1, 1894

      Author: Various

      Release Date: September 29, 2013 [EBook #43845]

      Language: English

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

      Produced by Punch, or the London Charivari, Wayne Hammond,

      Malcolm Farmer and the Online Distributed Proofreading

      Team at http://www.pgdp.net

      PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.

      VOL. 107.

      September 1, 1894.

      CONTRIBUTIONS THANKFULLY RECEIVED.

      Lardy-Dardy Swell (who is uncertain as to the age of Ingénue he is addressing). You're going to give a Ball. Will you permit me to send you a Bouquet? And is there anything else you would like?

      Ingénue. "O, thanks! The Bouquet would be delightful! and"—(hesitating, then after some consideration)—I'm sure Mamma would like the Ices and Sponge Cakes!

      THE TALE OF TWO TELEGRAMS.

      ANOTHER DOLLY DIALOGUE.

      (By St. Anthony Hope Carter.)

      The redeeming feature of the morning batch of letters was a short note from Lady Mickleham. Her ladyship (and Archie) had come back to town, and the note was to say that I might call, in fact that I was to call, that afternoon. It so happened that I had two engagements, which seemed to make that impossible, but I spent a shilling in telegrams, and at 4.30 (the hour Dolly had named) was duly ringing at the Mickleham town mansion.

      I'm delighted you were able to come, was Dolly's greeting.

      I wasn't able, I said; but I've no doubt that what I said in the two telegrams which brought me here will be put down to your account.

      No one expects truth in a telegram. The Post-Office people themselves wouldn't like it.

      Dolly was certainly looking at her very best. Her dimples (everybody has heard of Dolly's Dimples—or is it Dolly Dimple; but after all it doesn't matter) were as delightful as ever. I was just hesitating as to my next move in the Dialogue, which I badly wanted, for I had promised my editor one by the middle of next week. The choice lay between the dimples and a remark that life was, after all, only one prolonged telegram. Just at that moment I noticed for the first time that we were not alone.

      Now that was distinctly exasperating, and an unwarrantable breach of an implied contract.

      Two's company, I said, in a tone of voice that was meant to indicate something of what I felt.

      So's three, said Dolly, laughing, if the third doesn't count.

      "Quod est demonstrandum."

      Well, it's like this. I observed that you've already published twenty or so 'Dolly Dialogues.' (The dimples at this period were absolutely bewitching, but I controlled myself.) So it occurred to me that it was my turn to earn an honest penny. Allow me to introduce you. Mr. Brown, Mr. Carter—Mr. Carter, Mr. Brown.

      I murmured that any friend of Lady Mickleham's was a friend of mine, whereat Mr. Brown smiled affably and handed me his card, from which I gathered that he was a shorthand writer at some address in Chancery Lane. Then I understood it all. I had

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