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M. BOUDIN IN ENGLAND.

No. IX.

And you, my brave Jack Tar, you will not desert me. Everything I possess je lègue à ma mère; take notice of that. Sapristi, how the wind blow, but courage, mon vieux, "AHA, so this is Southampton "-it was BOUDIN who spoke, and vogue la galère. I think I like the waves; they are and he pronounced it Sussungton, with the accent on the splendid. Pouf! what a monster that one was. Come, first and third syllables,-"This is that devil of Southampton why are you so silent? Sing me-for it is the moment of of which I hear so much. Come, my fine fellow, let us moments-sing me one of your British songs of the sea. embark and reach the yacht Petronel. I care not for the What was that one I hear mademoiselle your sister sing to earth any more; I despise him; I who speak to you, I will us last week? Something about perhaps dance a hornpipe. I will be Jack Tar, my friend, like you other English, who are all Jack Tars from your birth. Oh, but the sea is not calm at all. You have deceive me."

By this time we were on the little motor-launch which was to convey us to the Petronel, and in a few minutes more we were on board that noble ship and had been welcomed by our host, the rightest and tightest and most genial buccaneer who ever sailed the British seas in luxury and a 400-ton yacht. Shortly afterwards we sat down to lunch, and in the meantime the anchor was weighed and away we steamed towards Cherbourg, where we were to anchor for the night. After lunch we went up on the bridge. BOUDIN's get-up, I must admit, was faultless: his blue serge suit, his yachtingcap with a white sun-cover, his white shoes with india-rubber soles everything about him, in fact, was le dernier eri in nautical costume, and he was as proud as a child of his appearance. There was no doubt about it, however: the sea was rough and the Petronel soon began to pitch and toss in the most approved style. Still we were all Britons, except BOUDIN, and, whatever we feared, we were not going to show our apprehensions-not just yet, at any rate. We were a party of five, and we were all sitting very comfortably in deck chairs and smoking various forms of tobacco, BOUDIN having ventured on a very big cigar.

"Are you a good sailor, BOUDIN?" said I.

"Ah, as to that, I know not," he replied, "I have served my one year as a soldier, and as I do not want to serve any more at all I suppose that I am not a good soldier; but I have not been in the inscription maritime, so I have not given my proofs as a sailor, but I will learn-not so well as you English, of course, for you are born for a life on the sea, but as well as I can I will learn what a sailor must know."

"I don't mean that kind of thing, BOUDIN. I mean are you ever sea-sick?"

"Ah, my poor friend "-(when a Frenchman is filled with pity for himself he always calls you his poor friend)—“ Ah, my poor friend, do not speak of it. I did survive from Calais to Dover when I begin my visit in England, but that is my only voyage on the sea. I fear, yes, I fear very much I shall be sea-sick, for I am a Frenchman, and the Latin races are no good for the sea. It is only the Anglo-Saxon who is always a jolly fellow when the waves are like mountains," and he blew out a great cloud of cigar smoke which seemed to be particularly strong and offensive. "Oh, but never mind," he continued, "you will be kind to your little BOUDIN. When he agonises with the mal de mer you will help him to make his testament, and you will sing 'Rule Britannia' to him till he render his last sigh."

When we jolly sailor-boys are scudding up aloft,
And the landlubbers lying down below, below, below,
And the landlubbers lying down below.

That was the song. Ah, you will not sing him. You get
up. You are offended with BOUDIN. He have put his foot
in, perhaps. N'importe, it is a glorious life on the sea, and
I furiously envy to be a sailor like you English. Ah, you
are going. No, I rest: it is the sea I love-

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When I came on deck again as we were entering Cherbourg harbour, I found BOUDIN as fresh and rosy as when we started. described him as "a verra nice gentleman, but a wee wild in He had made friends with the captain, a Scotchman, who his talk." I quite agree.

ESTHETIC MORALS.

[Vide an article in Harper's Magazine on "Esthetics of the Sky."] Ir is all very well for a poet to tell

Of the lessons that lurk in the skies,

And to bid you cry halt and regard the blue vault
With a pair of poetical eyes:

In the country one may with propriety stray,
With one's gaze fixed intent on a cloud,

And watch its shape change-but it's apt to seem strange
If one does the same thing in a crowd.

I am told it's correct, would you catch the effect
Of a sky as it ought to be caught,

To be bent till your feet and your head nearly meet,
And to gaze through your legs lost in thought.
In a green Surrey lane or on Salisbury Plain
There is no one to laugh at your fad;

But to play such a prank at St. Paul's or the Bank
Would undoubtedly stamp you as mad.

Common people would think you were given to drink,
And the cabbies would scarce understand

That the thought in your heart was devotion to art
If they saw you stuck fast in the Strand;
The busmen would laugh and deride you with chaff,
And, instead of respecting your soul,
They would catch you a whack in the small of your back
With the end of the omnibus pole.

The New Veil.

(Overheard in the Church porch last Sunday.) Old Man (after watching the Squire's daughter in one of the new veils). Lor', to think of her having been hiving bees on

At this point two members of our party, who had thrown away their cigarettes some minutes ago, and had become a Sunday! very pensive and silent, said they thought they would go below and see about unpacking their things. Our deckparty was thus reduced to three our host, BOUDIN and myself.

"Those poor fellows," said BOUDIN, meditatively. "Why have they so yellow an air? But perhaps they go below. because they do not wish to triumph over BoUDIN when he succumb. For if I succumb I succumb here. I stay here in full air, for if I go below I cannot learn to be a sailor.

ABSOLUTELY UNIQUE.-The advertisement of Madame PATTI'S concert at the Albert Hall was headed "The only PATTI Concert." Quite true: so she is "The Only PATTI."

LOST, June 9.-Half Persian Cat, &c.-Morning Post. Which half is still at home, the half that sings, or the better half?

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MR. PUNCH'S SYMPOSIA.
XVII.-PROFESSOR METCHNIKOFF AND
PERPETUAL YOUTH.

SCENE-The Summit of Coniston Old
Man.

PRESENT:

Franz Vecsey (in the Chair).
Mr. Joseph Chamberlain, M.P.
Mr. Austen Chamberlain, M.P.
Mr. William Younger, M.P.
Mr. Winston Churchill, M.P.
Señor Manuel Garcia.
Dr. Deighton.

Mr. Swinburne.

Several Harmsworths.

Vecsey. It is Professor METCHNIKOFF'S recent lecture on old age and its cure that has brought us together. As you are doubtless aware, old age is merely a disease, like tennis elbow or anything else, and all that is needed to remove it is the discovery of an elixir vitæ. We are met to debate whether a graceful old age is preferable to perpetual youth. Glancing round I see several perpetual youths in our midst.

Mr. Joseph Chamberlain. Very prettily put.

Mr. Swinburne. A delicate and discerning compliment.

Vecsey. Some of us are indeed very young. Shall we get older or not?

Several Harmsworths. Never. To grow old is a confession of failure.

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GOOD ADVICE.

Bridget. "WHY, MASTER TOMMY, WHAT EVER IS THE MATTER?"
Tommy. "I'VE HURT MY H-HAND IN THE H-HOT WATER."
Bridget. "SHURE, THIN, IT SERVES YOU RIGHT.
PUT YOUR HAND IN!"

be the same paper. "Youth at the
helm"-that is our motto.

Mr. Joseph Chamberlain. Mottoes
often get out of date. My motto in
1884 was "Free Trade for England."

Dr. Deighton. Our Chairman is quite right. It is absurd to talk about age Mr. Winston Churchill. All the harm as if it were a matter of years. It is a in the world is done by the old. Youth matter of feeling a man is as old as divines; age merely knows. Youth he feels. No one is old who can walk soars upon intuitions; age crawls among as I did from Land's End to John o' facts. There will never be anything old about me.

Mr. Joseph Chamberlain. Except ham.

Groats.

Mr. Joseph Chamberlain. Years are nothing. Look at me. I am universally acknowledged to be the youngest Member in the House.

Mr. William Younger. I beg the Right Honourable gentleman's pardon, but I am YOUNGER.

YOU SHOULD HAVE FELT THE WATER BEFORE YOU

Vecsey. Are we to try to guess it, or will you enjoy the triumph of supplying the answer?

Señor Garcia. Or shall we change the subject? I remember when I crossed to America in 1825-

Mr. Swinburne. The answer is quite simple-Because it's a sent-in-error 'un. Mr. Austen Chamberlain. Speaking as the Chancellor of the Exchequer I must strongly protest against the anarchical views of Professor METCHNIKOFF. posing he found his elixir vitæ, where would the Death Duties be?

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Mr. Joseph Chamberlain. That would be all right, my son; we could put a tax on living.

Mr. Winston Churchill. Eh? Mr. Joseph Chamberlain. Except ham. Mr. Winston Churchill. I fail to apprehend the point of that remark. Vecsey. I think it is clear from what Mr. Joseph Chamberlain. You will Mr. CHAMBERLAIN has said that the see it soon, when you are a little older. Señor Manuel Garcia. Speaking as menace of perpetual youth is not likely Vecsey. It is, I think, my duty as one whose hundredth birthday is immi- to be serious. A graduated income-tax, Chairman to point out that Professor nent I may say that age is easily kept rising to five shillings in the pound for METCHNIKOFF does not promise a per- at bay. One simply has to teach sing- persons above eighty, will surely prevent petual youthfulness of mind, but of ing. I am explaining the system in my most people from indulging in Professor body. Our minds will grow old, I take Manuel for Centenarians, now in the METCHNIKOFF's insidious drug. it, as heretofore; but our bodies will press. continue young.

Several Harmsworths. That is rather serious. Do you mean that we shall in time become more than twenty-one years of age, just as if Professor METCHNIKOFF had never existed?

Vecsey. Certainly.

Several Harmsworths. We don't like that at all. It is impossible to say what would happen to the Daily Mail if we were to get old.

Mr. Joseph Chamberlain. Do you really think that teaching singing is as effective as a feverish political activity?

Señor Garcia. Certainly.

Mr. Swinburne. "Songs by a Septuagenarian swimmer" has an agreeable assonance, or "Octogenarian Occ. verse."

Señor Garcia. I remember that when I was at school in Madrid in the year of Waterloo

Mr. Joseph Chamberlain. I must look into the matter. I may be in need of a Several Harmsworths. Bother Waterchange of occupation in a few months' loo! History only began eight years time. Since there was a Corn Law ago. Rhymer, why not a Tariff Troubadour ? Mr. Winston Churchill. By George! Mr. Swinburne. Señor GARCIA's age I've just seen what Mr. CHAMBERLAIN reminds me of a riddle which the Great meant when he said that about ham Mr. Austen Chamberlain. It would Panjandrum of Criticism, my friend earlier in our discussion. He meant probably be sold at twopence, after Mr. WATTS-DUNTON, once made up. Why Oldham, my constituency. July 4. is a parcel that has been directed to Several Harmsworths. It would not the wrong house like a very old man?

Mr. Joseph Chamberlain. Bright boy,

that.

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first, on the S. E. & C. lines, laid in pleasant places, how can anyJd one, wishing always to Webbe dans le mouvement (but not too much of it aboard ship), do better than go through our hop country (Vive la danse!) vid Dover to Calais (lunch there, and return), or per Folkestone to Boulogne and back (greater facility here for starting later in the day, if simply to cross to B'long, dine, and back by next boat contents you) for the comparatively small charge of a little over a sovereign to Calais, and about half-a-crown under that amount to Boulogne ? If you have the time, and the needful, go over on Saturday to B'logne, returning Monday early, or Sunday late, should Monday be a working day.

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"Do YOU STOP AT THE CECIL?"

Country Cousin. 'Bus Driver. "Do I STOP AT THE CECIL!-ON TWENTY-EIGHT BOB A WEEK!"

OUT-AND-OUTINGS.

Taking into consideration that you WHAT a lot you may know of the require no luggage, and that the thirdContinong, at a reasonable price if class carriages by boat-train are as only you be an energetic week-ender! | comfortable, if not as luxurious, as the

It was, we believe, Mr. PERCY FITZGERALD who perpetrated an amusing account of his flying Saturday-toMonday visits to the Continent. This experienced voyageur being an early riser and undismayed by perpetual motion, "did" Calais, Ostend, Bruges, Dunkirk -in fact, a whole semi-circuit of interesting places, being absent from London but a few hours, during which time he gathered materials for a series of Travellers' Tales. To Brighton, Eastbourne, and, in earlier spring, to Bournemouth, are all delightful short trips for short purses. But if it is "a quick change" you want, get it in francs at Boulogne or Calais, and return strengthened by week-end trip.

EVIDENTLY a very severe-looking set must be the "Rev. Mr. BENSON's Cowl-ey Fathers." To balance this effect is required a pleasant lot of "Smiley Mothers."

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A MOMENTOUS INTERVIEW.

KAISER WILHELM. "DELIGHTED TO SEE YOU, UNCLE, AT KIEL. AND NOW, AS THERE ARE NEITHER CABINET MINISTERS NOR REPORTERS PRESENT, I THINK I MIGHT PERHAPS MENTION THAT THE SEA IS CALM, AND IT IS SPLENDID WEATHER FOR THE YACHT RACES."

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