Title: Mr. Punch's Railway Book
Illustrator: Phil May
Editor: J. A. Hammerton
Illustrator: Reginald Cleaver
George Du Maurier
Charles Keene
John Leech
Bernard Partridge
L. Raven-Hill
Edward Tennyson Reed
John Tenniel
Release date: January 21, 2011 [eBook #35027]
Language: English
Other information and formats: www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/35027
Credits: Produced by Neville Allen, Chris Curnow and the Online
Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This
file was produced from images generously made available
by The Internet Archive)
Only a few years before Mr. Punch began his long and brilliant career had passenger trains and a regular system of railway travelling come into existence. In his early days it was still very much of a novelty to undertake a journey of any length by train; a delightful uncertainty prevailed not only as to the arrival at a given destination, but equally as to getting away from a starting-place. Naturally, the pens and pencils of his clever contributors were then frequently in use to illustrate the humours of railway travel, and even down to the present time Mr. Punch has not failed to find in the railway and its associations "a source of innocent merriment."
It must be admitted that some thirty years ago the pages of Punch literally teemed with biting satires on the management of our railways, and the fact that his whole-hearted denunciations of the inefficient service, the carelessness which resulted in frequent accidents, the excessive charges, the inadequate accommodation, could have been allowed to pass without numerous actions for libel, is proof of the enormous advantages which the present generation enjoys in this great matter of comfortable, rapid and inexpensive transit. Where Mr. Punch in his wrath, as voicing the opinion of the public, was wont to ridicule and condemn the railways and all associated therewith, we to-day are as ready, and with equal reason, to raise our voice in praise. But ridicule is ever a stronger impulse to wit than is appreciation, and in these later days when we are all alive to the abounding merits of our railway system Mr. Punch has had less to say about it. If we were to cull from his pages written in the days of his wrath we might be held guilty of presenting a gross travesty of the conditions now obtaining. Thus it is that in one or two cases only have we retained passages from his earlier chronicles, such as "Rules for the Rail" and "The Third-Class Traveller's Petition," which have some historical value as reminders that the railway comfort of the present day presents a remarkable contrast to the not very distant past.
To-day every member of the community may be regarded as a railway traveller, so large a part does the railway play in modern life; and it will be admitted that, with all our improvements, the element of humour has not been eliminated from our comings and goings by train. We trust it never may. Here, then, is a compilation of the "best things," literary and pictorial, that have appeared in Mr. Punch's pages on the subject, and with his cheery presence as our guard, let us set forth upon our excursion into the Realm of Fun!
Turning Business into Pleasure.—Take a traveller pressed for time, and induce him to enter a train supposed to be in correspondence with another train belonging to another line, and by which other train the traveller proposes to proceed to his destination. As the first train arrives at the junction, start off the second train en route for Town. The dismay of the traveller when he finds his journey interrupted will be, to say the least, most mirth-moving.
The Panic-stricken Passengers.—Allow an express train to arrive at the station of a rival company two hours behind its time. The travellers will, of course, be anxious to learn the cause of the delay, and will (again of course) receive no sort of information on the subject from the servants of the rival company. Should there be any nervous ladies in the train, the fun will become fast and furious.
A Lark in the Dark.—Start a train ten minutes late, and gradually lose time until it arrives in the middle of a long tunnel, and then stop the engine. Stay where you are for half an hour, whistling and letting off steam every now and then, to increase the excitement. Should it be known in the train that an express is due on the line of rails already occupied by the carriages, the humour of the situation will be greatly improved. Before playing this joke, it will be as well to lock the carriage-doors, and to carefully sever the cord of communication existing (on some lines) between the passengers and the guard.
A Comical Meal.—On a long journey promise that the train shall stop at a stated station ten minutes for refreshments. Lose time in the customary manner, and allow the train to arrive at the stated station half an hour late. Permit the passengers to descend and to enter the refreshment-rooms. The moment they are served, drive them back hurriedly into the carriages with the threat that if they are not immediately seated in their places they will be left behind. When the passengers are once more in their compartments, the carriage-doors should be securely locked, and the train can then remain waiting beside the platform for three-quarters of an hour.
The Strange Companions.—Invite ladies and gentlemen to travel in a first-class carriage. When the compartment is a third full, over-fill it with "merry" excursionists holding third-class tickets. The contrast between the "merriment" of the excursionists and the disgust of the ladies and gentlemen will be found a source of never-ending amusement.
A Wholesome Joke (added by Mr. Punch and suggested to the Passengers).—Whenever you find yourselves subjected to the "fun" of the railway officials, write to the newspapers and obtain a summons against the directors of the company which you believe to be in fault. Verb. sap.
"Half third return to Brixton, please."
"Half! What's your age?"
"I'm thirteen at home; but I'm only nine and a half on railways."
Friend (to minor rail official at provincial station) "'Ullo Cocky, where 'ave you been all this time?"
Minor R.O. (with dignity). "Oh I had to go up on duty for the Naval Review at Spit'ead, I 'ad."
Friend (impressed). "Ah! Fine sight I expect it wur?"
Minor R.O. "Well, I can't say as I saw much of it. I war taking the tickets at Vaux'all!"
Poor Jones is convinced that his worst fears are at last realised, and he is left alone with a dangerous lunatic!! (It was only little Wobbles running anxiously over the points of his coming speech to the electors of Plumpwell-on-Tyme!!)
Scene—A third-class carriage. Time—Three hours before the next station. Dramatis Personæ—Jones and Robinson.
"It's the last!—and it's a Tändstickor. It'll only strike on the box!"
"Strike it on the box, then;—but for Heaven's sake, be careful!"
"Yes; but, like a fool, I've just pitched the box out of window!"
Passenger (in second class). "I think I've got into the wrong carriage."
Ticket Inspector (sternly). "The difference must be paid!"
Passenger (triumphantly). "Oh, just so! Then I'll trouble you for three shillings—I've a first-class ticket!"
Old Lady. "Now, porter, you're quite sure you've put all my luggage in?—the big portmantle and——"
Porter. "All right, mum."
Old Lady. "And you're certain I've not left anything behind——"
Porter. "No, mum, not even a copper!"
John Bull (of the World in general). "There is nothing to be alarmed at. Surely your American trains go much faster than this?"
Jonathan (from the West in particular). "Why, yaas. But 'tain't that. I'm afeard it'll run off your darned little island!"
Impatient Traveller. "Er—how long will the next train be, portah?"
Porter. "Heaw long? Weel, sir ah dunno heaw ah con saay to hauf an inch. Happen there'll be fower or five co-aches an' a engine or soa."
"Are there no more trains this evening on the up line, porter?"
"No, mum."
"And no more trains on the down line?"
"No, mum."
"Is there no special train?"
"No, mum."
"Nor an excursion train?"
"No, mum. The gates are to for the rest of the evening."
"You're quite sure?"
"Yes, mum."
"Then come, Amelia. We can cross the line!"
Old Maid. "Is this a smoking compartment, young man?"
Obliging Passenger. "No, mum. 'Igher up!"
You may boast your great improvements,
Your inventions and your "movements,"
For those who stay at home, and those who travel;
But arrangements for the latter
Are so complex, that the matter
Makes them dotty as a hatter
To unravel.
There was once an ancient lady
Whom we knew as Miss O'Grady,
Who was asked to spend the autumn down at Trew.
So in fear and trepidation
She sought out her destination,
And betook her to the station—
Waterloo.
She took her little ticket
And she did not fail to stick it
With half-a-dozen coppers in her glove.
Another moment found her
With a plenty to astound her—
For she'd notice-boards all round her,
And above!
So she studied every number
On those sign-posts that encumber
All the station; and she learned them one by one;
But she found the indication
Of the platforms of the station
Not much use as information
When she'd done.
In her shocking state of fluster
Little courage could she muster,
Yet of porters she accosted one or two;
But, too shy to claim attention,
And too full of apprehension,
She could get no one to mention
"Which for Trew."
So she trudged through every station—
"North," "South," "Main,"—in quick rotation,
And then she gave a trial to the "Loop";
Like some hapless new Pandora
She sat down a-gasping for a
Little hope to live on—or a
Plate o' soup.
* * * * *
'Mid the bustle and the hissing
An old maiden lady's "Missing"—
In some corner of the complicated maze;
And round about she's gliding
In unwilling, hideous hiding,
On the platform, loop, or siding,
In a craze.
And still they cannot find her,
For she leaves no trace behind her
At Vauxhall, Clapham Junction, Waterloo;
But she passes like a comet
With the myst'ry of Mahomet—
Her course unknown—and from it
Not a clue!
Porter. "Now, then, Bill! are you off?"
Cab Ruffian. "No; what sort of fare is it?"
Porter. "Single gent, with small bag."
Ruffian. "Oh, he won't do! Can't yer find us a old lady and two little gals with lots o' boxes? I'm good for a pint!"
"Them's the only dogs as come by this train, sir. The guard says as 'ow there was three sportin' dogs, as 'ad ate their label off, wot's gone on by the Scotch Express."
Rather 'Cute.—Small but Sharp Passenger. "Look here! You didn't give me the right change just now!"
Clerk. "Too late, sir! You should have spoken when you took your ticket!"
Passenger. "Should I? Well, it's of no consequence to me; but you gave me half-a-sovereign too much! Ta-ta!" [Exit.
Stoker. "Wery sorry to disturb yer at supper, ladies, but could yer oblige me with a scuttle o' coals for our engine, as we've run short of 'em this journey?"
"No smoking allowed." Of course, but I am going to enjoy my cigar in silence.
"Want the window closed." Very sorry, but I can't find a cathedral.
"Find my journal a nuisance." Dear me! was under the impression it was a newspaper.
"Allow you to pass." Afraid only the Secretary can manage that for you; he alone has power to issue free tickets.
"Do I mind the draught?" Not when I am attending to the chessman.
"Do I know the station?" Of the people on the platform? Probably lower middle class.
"Is this right for Windsor?" Yes, if it's not left for somewhere else.
"Are we allowed five minutes for lunch?" Think not; but you can have sandwiches at the counter.
"Isn't this first-class?" Quite excellent—first-rate—couldn't be better!
"I want to go second." Then you had better follow me.
"I am third." Indeed! And who were first and second.
"I think this must be London." Very likely, if it is, it mustn't be anywhere else.
Passenger. "What's the matter, guard?"
Guard (with presence of mind). "Oh, nothing particular, sir. We've only run into an excursion train!"
Passenger. "But, good gracious! there's a train just behind us, isn't there?"
Guard. "Yes, sir! But a boy has gone down the line with a signal; and it's very likely they'll see it!"
| The party that never says, "Thank you!" | The party that always says, "Thank you!" |
Pity the sorrows of a third-class man,
Whose trembling limbs with snow are whitened o'er,
Who for his fare has paid you all he can:
Cover him in, and let him freeze no more!
This dripping hat my roofless pen bespeaks,
So does the puddle reaching to my knees;
Behold my pinch'd red nose—my shrivell'd cheeks:
You should not have such carriages as these.
In vain I stamp to warm my aching feet,
I only paddle in a pool of slush;
My stiffen'd hands in vain I blow and beat;
Tears from my eyes congealing as they gush.
Keen blows the wind; the sleet comes pelting down,
And here I'm standing in the open air!
Long is my dreary journey up to Town,
That is, alive, if ever I get there.
Oh! from the weather, when it snows and rains,
You might as well, at least, defend the poor;
It would not cost you much, with all your gains:
Cover us in, and luck attend your store.
No wonder Miss Lavinia Stitchwort thought the people very rude at the station when she went for her "water-proof" (which she had lost on the railway some time before). She found out when she got home she had not removed the "unclaimed property" label!
Nervous Party. "The train seems to be travelling at a fearful pace, ma'am."
Elderly Female. "Yus, ain't it? My Bill's a-drivin' of the ingin, an' 'e can make 'er go when 'e's got a drop o drink in 'im!"
The Origin of Railways.—The first idea of railways is of very ancient date, for we hear of the Great Norman line immediately after the Conquest.
Railway News.—There is an old lady who says, that she always likes to travel by a trunk line, because then she feels confidence about the safety of her luggage.
A reminiscence of Whitsun Holidays in Ancient Egypt. From an old-time tabl(e)ature
Railway Reform.—Compartments to be reserved for ladies over and under a certain age.
As there will invariably be compartments for those who smoke, so also for those who snuff. The former will be labelled as usual "for Smokers," the latter "for Snuffers." The last-mentioned will be tried as far as Hampton Wick.
The "Sleeping Cars" will be divided into "Snorers" and "Non-Snorers." Tickets will be issued subject to these regulations.
It is important to the Shareholders to know that on and after the abolition of the Second Class, the motto of the Company will be "No Returns."
A Plutocrat.—Swell. "'Dyou oblige me—ah—by shutting your window?—ah——"
Second Passenger (politely). "Really, sir, if you will not press it, as yours is shut, the air is so warm I would rather keep this open. You seem to take great care of yourself, sir——"
Swell. "Care of myself! Should wather think so. So would you, my dear fel-lah, if you'd six thousand a ye-ar!!"
On Southern lines the trains which crawl
Deliberately to and fro
Make life a burden; of them all
This is the slowest of the slow.
Impatiently condemned to bear
What is indeed an awful bore,
I've seemed to be imprisoned there
The angry passengers complain;
Of new electric cabs they talk.
They sit and swear at such a train,
And ask, "Shall we get out and walk?"
It's true the time seems extra long
When spent in such a wretched way,
My calculation may be wrong—
Three hours, say.
The other day I had to come
By this slow train, but facing me
Was no old buffer, dull and dumb;
I chatted with my vis-à-vis.
A pretty smile, a pretty dress,
Gay spirits no fatigue could crush;
With her it was a quick express,
Three minutes' rush.
For once I sadly left the train,
For once the time too quickly passed.
I still could angrily complain,
Why travel so absurdly fast?
At lightning speed that special went
(I'd paid the ordinary fare),
Now looking back it seems we spent
Three seconds there.
Facetious Individual (from carriage window). "Change 'ere, 'ave we? Then kindly oblige me with a sardine-opener!"
Wednesbury Station.—First Collier. "Trains leave for Birmingham, 10.23 a.m., 6.23 p.m."
Second Collier. "What's p.m.?"
First Do. "A penny a mile, to be sure."
Second Do. "Then, what's a.m.?"
First Do. "Why, that must be a a'penny a mile."
Excursionist. "I say—'ere! This water's full o'crumbs!"
Aquarius. "That ain't crumbs! That's only the sawdust off the hice!"
'Traction Engines.—Too many Girls of the Period.
Truck-Trains.—Most marriage processions at St. George's, Hanover Square.
Continuous Brakes.—The results of lodging house attendance.
Changing Lines.—What we often see after the honeymoon.
Shunted on to a Siding.—Paterfamilias when Baby appears.
A party who is quite in favour of light railways for town and country.
The Gushington girls have just arrived by rail, and are inhaling the odours of an average London terminus.
Miss Milly Gushington. "Wait a bit, uncle." (Sniff.) "Oh, isn't it lovely, Hilly? Doesn't it just smell of the season?"
Miss Hilly Gushington. "Don't speak about it—only sniff!"
A is the affable guard whom you square:
B is the Bradshaw which leads you to swear:
C is the corner you fight to obtain:
D is the draught of which others complain:
E are the enemies made for the day:
F is the frown that you wear all the way:
G is the guilt that you feel going third:
H is the humbug by which you're deterred:
I is the insult you'll get down the line:
J is the junction where you'll try to dine:
K is the kettle of tea three weeks old:
L are the lemon drops better unsold:
M is the maiden who says there's no meat:
N is the nothing you thus get to eat:
O is the oath that you use—and do right:
P is the paper to which you don't write:
Q are the qualms to directors unknown:
R is the row which you'll find all your own:
S is the smash that is "nobody's fault:"
T is the truth, that will come to a halt:
U is the pointsman—who's up the whole night:
V is the verdict that says it's "all right."
W stands for wheels flying off curves:
X for express that half shatters your nerves:
Y for the yoke from your neck that you fling,
and Z for your zest as you cut the whole thing!
Constable (to nervous passenger, arrived by the Ramsgate train). "I've got yer"—("Ger-acious Heavens!" thinks little Skeery with a thrill of horror. "Takes me for somebody that's 'wanted'!")—"a cab, sir."]
Country Cousin, bound for Bayswater, to ticket clerk, with scrupulous politeness. If you please, I want a first-class ticket to Bayswater.
Ticket Clerk (abruptly). No first-class here. Go to the next booking-place.
[Country Cousin retires rebuffed, and finds his way to next booking-place.
Country Cousin. If you please, I want a first-class ticket to Bayswater.
Ticket Clerk (explosively). Single or return? Look sharp! You're not the only person in London!
Country Cousin (humbly). Single, please.
[The ticket and change are slapped down unceremoniously, and Country Cousin is shoved on from behind by an impatient City man. Rushes precipitately down brass-bound steps, and presents his ticket to be snipped.
Snipper (inspecting ticket). Queen's Road, Bayswater? Wrong side! Go up the stairs, and turn to the right. Look sharp! There's a train just coming in!
[Country Cousin, with a deepened sense of humiliation and bewilderment, hurries upstairs, turns to the right, and reaches entrance to platform just in time to have gate slammed in his face. The train being gone, gate is re-opened, and the necessary snipping performed on his ticket.
Country Cousin (to Snipper, politely). If you please—will the next train take me to Queen's Road, Bayswater?
Saturnine Official. Can't tell you till the train comes.
[Country Cousin paces the platform in moody silence, and wishes he had taken a cab. Enter train, rushing madly along.
Stentorian voice (without stops). Earl's Court North End and Hammersmith train first and second-class forward third behind!
[Country Cousin makes his way towards a carriage, but finds it full. Tries another with the same result, and is frantically endeavouring to open the door of a third-class compartment in which there is one vacant seat next a fat woman with a baby, when train moves on.
Indignant Official. Stand away there! Stand away, will you! (Drags back Country Cousin.) That ain't your train! What do you want a-tryin to get in there for?
[Country Cousin, in deeper humiliation, re-arranges dress, disturbed by recent struggle and resumes his agitated march.
Enter another train more madly than the first.
Stentorian voice. High Street Kensington Notting Hill Gate and Bayswater train main line train!
Country Cousin (to Haughty Official, in an agony of entreaty). Is this train for Queen's Road, Bayswater?
Haughty Official. Yes, Queen's Road. Look sharp! She'll be off in a minute.
[Country Cousin scrambles through the crowd to a carriage; drops his umbrella; stoops to pick it up and on rising finds train three parts through the tunnel. Exit Country Cousin in a rage, to get a cab, having lost twenty minutes, the price of his unused ticket, his self-respect, and that of everybody he has come in contact with in the Metropolitan District Railway Station.