Title: Punch, Or The London Charivari, Vol. 99., September 20, 1890
Release Date: May 28, 2004 [EBook #12466]
Character set encoding: ASCII
*** Start of this project gutenberg EBOOK Punch, Vol. 99 ***
Produced by Malcolm Farmer, William Flis, and the
Or the London charivari.
September 20, 1890.
OUT FOR ANOTHER HOLIDAY.
(BY OUR IMPARTIAL AND NOT-TO-BE-BIASSED CRITIC.)
I had been told that Ostend was an excellent place. “Quite a Town of Palaces!” was the enthusiastic description that had reached me. So I determined to leave “Delicious Dover” (as the holiday Leader-writer in the daily papers would call it), and take boat for the Belgian coast. The sea was as calm as a lake, and the sun lazily touched up the noses of those who slumbered on the beach. There is an excellent service of steamers between England and Belgium. This service has but one drawback—a slight one: the vessels have a way with them of perpetrating practical jokes. Only a week or so ago one lively mail-carrier started prematurely, smashing a gangway, and dropping a portmanteau quietly into the ocean. On my return from foreign shores, I passed the same cheerful ship lying in mid-channel as helpless as an infant. However, the accident (something, I fancy, had gone wrong with the engines) appeared to be treated as more amusing than important. Still, perhaps, it would be better were the name of this luckless boat changed to Le Farceur; then travellers would know what to expect. But I must confess that my experiences were perfectly pleasant. The steamer in which I journeyed crossed the Channel in the advertised time, and if I wished to be hypercritical, I would merely hint that the official tariff of the refreshments sold on board is tantalising. When I wanted cutlets, I was told they were “off,” and when I asked for “cold rosbif,” that was “off” too. The garcon (who looked more like a midshipman than a cabin-boy) took ten minutes to discover this fact. And as I had to rely upon him for information, I had to wait even longer before the desired (or rather undesired) intelligence was conveyed to me. I pride myself upon caring nothing about food, but this failure to obtain my heart’s (or thereabouts’) yearning caused me sore annoyance.