Mr. Punch's After-Dinner Stories by J. A. Hammerton and John Leech (top 100 novels TXT) 📗
- Author: J. A. Hammerton and John Leech
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In all, £89 8s.—(This is one of the few restaurants where a charge is made for the addition.)
"Make out the bill," said I, "in francs, and send it to the executors of Mademoiselle Faustine."
II.Monsieur Victor de Train-de-Luxe is in many respects a delightful person. In other ways he is not. For instance, because he was, accidentally, the cause of my backing a winner at Ascot (simply by means of ordinary stable information), he had the bad taste to suggest that I should stand him a dinner.
I said, "Certainly, my dear Comte" (Comte being the courtesy title I invariably give to foreigners from whom I have the hope of borrowing money).
"Where shall it be?"
"There is only one place where one can dine," I said.
"Of course—the Bon Marché," he replied.[Pg 74]
"No," I answered. "No, mon ami. If you wish to eat a really characteristic English dinner, come to the Vegetarian Restaurant in Edgware Road. Come along. Come, now!"
"But it's only six o'clock. I am not hungry."
"All the better," I replied. And I also pointed out to him that the best way to see London is outside an omnibus. So we started.
Arrived at the restaurant, I was enthusiastically received by the courteous cashier, who presented me with a previous bill, which, I noticed, had not been receipted. I said I thought it rather rude to present a gentleman with a bill which they hadn't taken the trouble to receipt.
We sat down.
"I'm glad," I said to Victor, "that I didn't know this dinner was coming off to-day. If I had had notice, I might have ordered it beforehand; and a dinner, to be perfection, should be eaten, if possible, on the day it is cooked. At least, that's what I always think. I may be wrong."[Pg 76]
Monsieur de Train-de-Luxe smiled, said I was a farceur, and I ordered our dinner.
First, some turnip turtle soup, then, ortolans of spinach and mashed potatoes, followed by a canvas-backed duck made of Indian corn, and last, not least, plum-pudding. As all will agree, this makes a very delicious and seasonable repast. Long dinners have quite gone out of fashion. And this was washed down with a sparkling bottle of orange champagne, '97.
My friend Victor, who is rather a gourmet, was so struck with the first mouthful of soup, that he said it was quite enough, observing, he had never tasted anything like it.
Pleased with this praise, I asked his opinion of the ortolans. He said that their aroma dispensed with the necessity for their consumption. He was evidently surprised.
When the bill was presented by the courteous "chucker-out," we found that most unluckily neither of us had any money.
I append the bill.
Dinners (for two), 1s. 9d. Champagne, 3d. Total, 2s.[Pg 78]
To this I ought really to add:—
Cab (for three) to Marylebone Police Court, 1s. 6d. (The constable refused to walk without us.)
Loss to reputation by report of proceedings, 8d.
Professor Guzzleton (to Fair Chatterbox). Are you aware that our host has a French cook?
Fair Chatterbox. So I hear!
Professor Guzzleton. And that that French cook is the best in London?
Fair Chatterbox. So I believe!
Professor Guzzleton. Then don't you think we had better defer all further conversation till we meet again in the drawing-room?
"My uncle, the admiral," said Mrs. Ramsbotham, "is very old fashioned, and always goes to sleep every day after dinner with his banana on his head."
[Pg 79]Toast-master (to chairman of public dinner). "Would you like to propose your toast now, my lord, or should we let 'em enjoy themselves a bit longer?"
[Pg 80]Infelicitous Misquotations.—Hostess. "You've eaten hardly anything, Mr. Simpkins!"
Mr. S. "My dear lady, I've dined 'wisely, but not too well!'"
[Pg 81]Hired Waiter (handing the liqueurs). "Please, sir, don't make me laugh—I shall spill 'em all!"
[Pg 82]"I said Welsh radish, not horse rabbit!"
[Pg 83]Our Robert (on duty in the provinces, offering dish to neglected spinster). "Little duck!"
[In such a tone of voice, that, at the risk of the sage and—— she accepts!
[Pg 84]Host. "I say, my boy, shall we join ladies in drawing-room?"
Guest. "I sh'inksho."
Host. "Can you say, 'The scenery's truly rural 'bout here?'"
Guest. "Sc-scenery tooralooral."
Host. "All right, come along!"
[Pg 85]He knew the Cuisine.—Hungry Diner (scanning the menu). "Look here, waiter, I'm starving. I think I'll have a little of everything!"
Waiter. "Yessir. (Bawls off.) 'Ash one!"
[Pg 86]"When the wine is in, the wit is out;"
Only to dolts the adage reaches.
No wise man could for a moment doubt
The value of after-dinner speeches.
Punch can remember the time when Peel,
Whose wisdom still the country teaches,
After steak and port, his nine o'clock meal,
Made the best of after-dinner speeches.
When the Ministers come to the Mansion House,
(The King of London their presence beseeches,)
No guest who has any touch of nous
Will be weary of after-dinner speeches.
When the Royal Academy blooms in May,
With its pretty girls and their cheeks like peaches
Who won't, on the opening Saturday,
Listen to after-dinner speeches?
When there's ought that's generous to be done,
A greeting to pay that no soul impeaches,
A dinner's the best thing under the sun,
And its gold coin the after-dinner speeches.
And as to the House, which often suffers
From talk that to dreariest platitude reaches,
It does not often allow its duffers
To make long after-dinner speeches.
[Pg 94]Enter Street Boy, and, with suppressed ecstasy. "Oh, please, there's your cat and kittens having such a game with the things in the winder!"
At the Cric-Crac RestaurantCustomer (looking at bill). Here, waiter, there's surely some mistake in this total.
Waiter (politely). Zehn thousand pardons, sir! Mit my usual carelessness I have added in ze date and vorgot to charge you for ze butter.
[Pg 95] An Oversight!Swell. Waiter! This—ah—chop's vewy dwy!
Waiter. 'Ndeed, sir? Perhaps if you were to order something to drink with it, sir——
Host. "Fish is very expensive, just now, I can tell you. This salmon cost me two and sixpence a pound!"
Guest (no business of his). "Ah, it's very good, I think I'll take another eighteen penn'orth!"
[Pg 96]The Major. "Don't you like liqueurs, Mrs. Jinks?"
Mrs. Jinks. "Yes; but they make one so unreserved!"
[Pg 97]Farmer (proposing landlord's health). "An' if a' squiears 'ud dew as our squiear dew, there wudna be so many on 'em as dew as they dew dew!"
[Pg 98]No Excuse for not Believing.—"Then you don't believe in phrenology?" "No, rather not. I once gave one of those fellows a sovereign to read my head, and, after feeling it a long time, all he said was, that I had no idea of the value of money."
[Pg 99]Things one would rather have put Differently.—Mr. Bumblepup. "I must apologise for coming in ordinary evening dress." Hostess. "Well, you really have the advantage of us. We're all looking more foolish than usual, and you're not."
[Pg 100]Mr. Boreham (in the thick of a long and pointless story). "Well, as I was saying, I happened to be in the City the other day, and, as I was walking down Cheapside, whom should I meet but my old friend, Stodgeley, whom I haven't seen for fifteen years. Well, what do you think he did? He stopped dead when he saw me, slapped me on the shoulder, and said, 'Surely this must be my dear old friend, Boreham?'" She (with difficulty keeping awake). "Yes?—and was it?"
[Pg 101]Hostess (to friend who has been brought in to take pot-luck). "I'm afraid, Mr. Simpson, we've only got a very poor dinner to offer you."
Mr. Simpson. "My dear Mrs. Jones, I beg you not to apologise! I assure you I think it quite desirable to underfeed occasionally!"
[Pg 102] THE DINNER CHAIRMAN'S VADE MECUM (Compiled for the use of Orators during the Month of May Mouthings)Question. You are accustomed to take the chair at a public dinner?
Answer. Yes. Or, to speak by the card, a dinner for the rest of the company.
Q. Why, do you not partake of the good cheer before you with the rest of your convives?
A. Certainly not. I have to speak later on—a consideration which entirely destroys my appetite.
Q. Is there anything new to be said in the loyal toasts?
A. No; and therefore it is better to return to the simplest form, which is sure to be received with heartfelt enthusiasm.
[Pg 104]Q. What can be said about the united service?
A. That it is absolutely delightful to expend millions in the furtherance of their interests.
Q. And can anything interesting be put in about the Houses of Parliament?
A. Not much. Sneers at the Lords are no longer popular, and the Lower House is too respectable to be anything but a dull subject.
Q. What about the toast of the evening?
A. That must be left to the secretary, who will furnish the chairman with the necessary facts, which may be mixed with original remarks, two-thirds humorous to one-third pathetic.
Q. How are the visitors to be treated?
A. With fulsome eulogy or comic depreciation inspired by the pages of that excellent manual, Who's Who. Particular attention can be paid to the entries under "Recreations" in that admirable work, for appropriate chaff.
Q. And in what terms does a chairman respond to the toast of his own health?
A. In a few muttered words addressed to an audience composed of a gentleman fast asleep, the toast-master, and the waiters.
[Pg 103]Social Agonies.—"I say, old chap, it's short notice, but do come and dine this next Thursday!" "Can't, dear old man. I'm engaged three deep for the night!" "Oh, sorry! I've got the Duke and Duchess of Runnymede, and Lord Savory!" "Oh,"—(seeing it in quite a different light)—"next Thursday, did you say? I thought you said Thursday week. Oh, yes, I shall be delighted!"
[Their Graces and Lord S. never turned up, after all!]
[Pg 105]"Lor' bless yer, sir, that's all right, sir! That ain't a fly, sir!—that's a bit of dirt!"
[Pg
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