Squire. "Isn't that the Mare, Coper, you hoped to make three figures of as a Lady's Hack!"
Local Dealer. "Yes, Sir, this is her, worse luck! She'll have to go for a 'Cabber' now—unless I boil her down for Bicycle Oil!"
LA GÉOGRAPHIE DE LONDRES.
À Monsieur Punch.
Monsieur,—Je viens d'arriver—but hold! I go to write in english, which I know enough well. I am come to London to this Congress of Geographs. I cross the Sleeve—la Manche, how say you? Ah la douleureuse traversée, the dolorous traversy! In fine, the train arrives at a station. I seek, I regard, I read the soap, the mustard, the other réclames—how say you?—but not the name of the station. Then a cry, "Londonbridg!" Ah, it is the station of London! Sapristi, how she is little this station! La gare de Londres no more great than a station of banlieue, near to Paris. Eh well, I descend immediately. I seek my baggages, I go to find a fiacre, a "ansom." Then in English I say to the coacher, "George Street, Number Forty." "Olraïttseu," say he. What is this that this is that that? I comprehend not. But all of same I mount in carriage and we part.
Soon we arrive. Hold! This is a street of commerce; there is there but offices. And not of number forty.
"Nottir, maounsiah?" say the coacher. Ah, I comprehend! "No," say I, "not here." "Minnoriss," say he. "How?" say I; but we are in road. Hold! Again a street of commerce—but of the most villain. I anger myself. I cry, "Coacher, I have said you George Street." "Olraïtt, maounsiah," say he, "this is George Street." "Not here," I respond. "Is there two George Streets?" Then he swear, he laugh; he ask that he may be blown; he say more, that I comprehend not. In fine, he say, "Taoua Ill." Again a George Street. But here some warehouses only. Then the coacher say, "Shoditch," and we go. Again a George Street! Still more small! Again one time I anger myself. I ask to him, "Where go you?" He say, "Which George Street is it?" I say, "George Street, London." Then he laugh again, and he swear; and he say, "Ollaouai." Again a George Street! Tiens, c'est embêtant! But it is but a street of commerce, and very little. "Islingtonn," say he. What! again a George Street? Sapristi! Quelle ville! If they love the name of George, these English! But, no, still a poor little street. "Blakfraïahs," say the coacher. We traverse some streets, some streets, without end! In fine, see there number forty. But it is a little shop. Mille tonnerres! Pas encore! "Youstonn Road," say he. Again some streets, some streets, without end! And again a street of commerce. And again the number forty is a shop! Sacré nom d'une pipe! "Lissn Grov," say he. Again some kilomètres to traverse. What! Again a George Street? How many of them is there, of these George Streets? And again, as you say in english, "No go." But all of same we go, for the coacher say "Manshestasquaiah." I shut myself the eyes, and I repose myself.
Ah, that values better! In fine, a better street. And see, there number forty! What joy! In fine, I arrive. How it is fatiguing, this course in London, long of three hours or more! I descend. I demand my friend. What? He live not here? He is gone? A la bonne heure! "One more," say the coacher. "What," I cry, "again a George Street?" "Yess, maounsiah, Annovasquaiah." Then this one is not the house of my friend, this one is not the George Street that I seek! Que le diable enlève——
But we continue, we arrive, in fine, it is here. All exhausted I descend. How much pays one the course in London? In Paris it is 1·50. Ah! in London it must be one shilling and half. This one has been a long course; I go to give a good pourboire, one shilling. I offer to the cabman two shillings and half. Then he cry, he swear, he descend, he wish to fight me. I say, "It is not enough? How much?" He say, "Tenbobb." What is this that this is that that? In fine, my friends come from the house, they explain that that wishes to say, "Ten shillings," they say he has reason, and I pay him. It costs dear the cab of London. But it is equal to me, for now I go to pronounce a discourse before the Geographical Congress on the George Streets of London. He will be of the most interestings, of the most curious. I beg you, Mister Punch, to make me the honour of to come to hear him, and to agree the assurance of my sentiments the most distinguished.