Colonel Colvile chivalrously takes upon himself responsibility for the title of the volume in which his wife has recorded their joint experience of a trip round the coast of Africa. Round the Black Man's Garden is about as bad a title as a book could have. Happily, Mrs. Colvile's clever travel notes triumphantly carry the weight. The travellers commenced their journey at Suez, visiting places in the Red Sea which voyagers by the P. and O. steamers pass by on the other side. They made their way down the west coast by all the most uncomfortable means of conveyance attainable, culminating in the filanzana, in which instrument of torture they were carried across the hills and through the swamps of Madagascar. Colonel Colvile, just now enjoying himself amid the privations of the journey up country to Uganda, is well known as an indomitable traveller. In Mrs. Colvile he found a worthy companion. On a merry page of the narrative of life in Madagascar, it is incidentally mentioned that the travellers arrive at Malatsy with their luggage soaking after a dip in the river. They dine in a whitewashed hut, with an army of big cockroaches overrunning the walls. Resuming their journey next morning they "entered a dense cloud of singularly malignant little black flies." The half-naked porters were soon streaming with blood, and the passengers' faces were in a similar condition. "Luckily," writes Mrs. Colvile, in her cheery way, "we were soon clear of the infested belt, to move in the course of half-an-hour into a flight of locusts." Mrs. Colvile takes as the motto of her book the proverb, Qui suit son chemin arrive À la fin. My Baronite arrived at the end of Mrs. Colvile's fascinating narrative full of admiration for her courage and good temper. But as long as Piccadilly and Pall Mall are not "up," he will be content with them, and would rather not follow her road. THE CABMAN'S GUIDE TO POLITENESS.—No. I.
THINGS ONE WOULD RATHER HAVE EXPRESSED DIFFERENTLY. THINGS ONE WOULD RATHER HAVE EXPRESSED DIFFERENTLY."Don't go, Canon; I want to introduce you to a Lady who wishes to make your acquaintance." "Oh—er—I'm rather in a hurry; some other day, perhaps—er—er." "It's my Wife, you know." "Oh, that's different. I thought you said a Lady! I shall be charmed!" THE BLACK SHADOW.We're near to the gloomy Guy Faux anniversary, Nigh to the gorging of Lord Mayor's Day, But though 'tis November, there's joy in the Nursery Ruled by Nurse Gladstone out Westminster way. The summer's long troubles are laid on the shelf And "Nana" looks quite like enjoying herself. That bothersome bantling, the big Irish baby, Is tucked up in bed for a long forty winks. (Though its shrill Banshee howl will be heard again, maybe, From waking it, yet, even Nana G. shrinks.) So now for a nice quiet time, if you please, With the brace of most sweet-tempered bairns on her knees. They're English—quite English, and easy to handle, Won't raise horrid noises and anger the House. They're pleasant to see and delightful to dandle, And Nana opines that, with nursery nous, They'll be got "nicely off"—if she makes no mistakes— Before that Hibernian worry awakes. "To market, to market, to buy a fat piggy! (But O, not a poor Irish pig—in a poke!)" So pipes Nana Gladstone so jocund and jiggy She ekes out her Nursery lilt with a joke. "We've done, for a season, with row-de-dow-dow, And there's no 'Bogey Man,' dears, to bother us now!" Nurses, we know, find the "Black Man" most handy To frighten their charges to quiet at times; But now 'tis all "Hush-a-bye, Babes!" "Handy-pandy!" And such soothing carols and quieting rhymes, No need for a "black ugly thing in the garden" To quiet these babes, thinks old Nana from Hawarden! Alas, and alas! Bogey Men are such rum 'uns, And some Ugly Things are "too previous," or worse. How oft the Black Shadow appears without summons, And terrifies not the poor babes, but their Nurse! Nana's not disturbed—yet—by the Irish babe's squall, But—what means that black-boding shade on the wall? The African Bogey! Inopportune, very! It's really a nuisance, it does seem a shame That just as Nurse G. is prepared to make merry With two such sweet bantlings this Spook spoils the game! Uganda! Mashonaland!! Nurse, I'm afraid The Dark Continent casts o'er your babes a Black Shade! THE THREE V'S.(Voice, Vote, and Veto.)
"When wine is in the wit is out" Was once held wisdom past all doubt; But now 'twould seem that every throttle That hath capacity for the bottle, Must have it also for the suffrage. No more need rowdy Rad or rough rage. Throat-suffrage should please everybody Who lets out noise or takes in toddy, By way of a capacious throat Can drink and shout—One Throat, one Vote! From Mr. Cormorant, St. James's Park.—"Thank you, Sir. Mother and child, Master Cormorant and Mrs. Cormorant, are doing uncommonly well. Hope for the best. But permit me, accidents will happen, and I should like to make provision—you understand. How? In my newspaper I see advertised 'Eagle Insurance Co.,' 'Pelican Life Insurance Co.' Why are the Eagle and the Pelican to be benefited, and not the Cormorant—and others? But never mind the others. I speak for myself, and am yours Devouringly, Captain Cormorant." Something in a Name.—Most appropriate official to make a "Budget Statement"—Sir George "Dibbs." A Strike Motto.—"'Tis true, 'tis pitty; and pitty 'tis, 'tis true." |