No, I have not a card, Nor can I pay you, guard-- Truly my lot is hard, This is the reason, Now I recall to mind Changing my clothes, I find I left them all behind,-- Money, cards, 'season.'"

MOTTO FOR THE SOUTH-EASTERN COMPANY'S REFRESHMENT ROOMS.--"O Swallow, Swallow, flying, flying south!"

[Ill.u.s.tration: AN INQUIRING MIND

"Is this _our_ train, aunty?"

"No, dear."

"Whose train is it?"]

[Ill.u.s.tration: ["An 'Imperial Railway Administration' is now a part of Chinese bureaucracy."--_Daily Paper._]

If China is to have railways, of course the dragon must enter into the design of the locomotives, &c., as above.]

[Ill.u.s.tration: MASHONALAND RAILWAY

["Sir Charles Metcalfe, the engineer, is now busy at Umtali arranging for the station at that place."--_Daily Telegraph._]

Umtali station in the near future. The Boo-Boola express just due.]

[Ill.u.s.tration: THE FLYING SCOTCHMAN]

AT A RAILWAY STATION

Never the time and the train And the station all together!

My watch--set "fast" in vain!

Slow cab--and foggy weather!

I have missed the express again.

It was all the porter's fault, not mine, But his mind is narrow, his brain is bleak, His slowness and red tape combine To make him take about a week To label my bag--and he dared to speak, When I bade him hurry, bad words, in fine!

O epithet all incarnadine, Leave, leave the lips of the working-man!

It is simply past All bounds--aghast My indignation scarce hold I can.

My watch may have helped to thus mislead, My cab by the fog have been stayed indeed; But still, however these things may be, Out there on the platform wrangle we-- Oh, hot and strong slang I and he, --I and he!

[Ill.u.s.tration: SYMPATHY

_Pa.s.senger (in a whisper, behind his paper, to Wilkins, who had been "catching it" from the elder lady)._ "Mother-'n-law?"

_Wilkins (in still fainter whisper)._ "Ye'"

_Pa.s.senger._ "'Got just such 'nother!"

[_They console together at the next buffet._]

THE ROUGH'S RAILWAY GUIDE

[Ill.u.s.tration]

The ready rough may always regard a third-cla.s.s carriage, or indeed, any carriage he can make his way into with or without a ticket, on the Underground Railway as a sort of travelling Alsatia, where brutal blackguardism finds "sanctuary."

The one duty of a guard--as of a watch--is to "keep time." He is not expected to keep anything else, except tips. For instance he is not bound to keep his temper, or to keep on the look out for roughs.

No one has a legal right to get into a carriage which is full, but then a third-cla.s.s carriage never is full so long as one more brawny brute can violently force his way into it.

When bent upon enjoying the exceptional privileges and immunities reserved for blackguardism by the Underground Gallios, it is only necessary for a few hulking ruffians, big of course, and half drunk by preference, to thrust themselves violently in some compartment containing no less than twice its legal complement. In doing this they will, of course, rudely trample the toes of weak women, and insolently dislodge the hats of inoffensive men; thus paving the way pleasantly for future operations.

Having squeezed themselves in somehow, they can then further indulge in the lesser amenities of travel by puffing rank tobacco smoke in the faces of their fellow-pa.s.sengers, expectorating at large with not too nice a reference to direction, and indulging in howling, chaff, and horse-play of the most offensive character.

The addition of blasphemy, especially if there should be women and children present, may probably provoke a mild remonstrance from some one, and then the rough's opportunity has arrived at last.

To particularise the rough's rules for dealing with such an objector and his sympathisers--if any--would be as tedious as superfluous; but the combined arts of the low pugilist, the intoxicated wife-beater, and the Lancashire "purler," may be called into play, with much enjoyment and perfect safety, until the object of his wrath is beaten into unconsciousness or kicked into convulsions. On reaching a station, the frightened pa.s.sengers may perhaps dare to appeal to the guard! That autocratic official will of course, with much angry hustling and holloaing, declare that _he_ can't stop to interfere, _his_ business being, not to stay actual violence or prevent possible homicide, but to "keep time," and the ruffianly scoundrels go off shouting and singing "_Rule Britannia_" and telling their pals "what a bloomin' lark they've had in the Hunderground."

[Ill.u.s.tration: _Ticket Clerk._ "Where for, ma'am?"

_Old Lady._ "There! Lawk a mercy if I haven't forgot. Oh! mister, please run over a few of the willages on this railway, will yer?"

[_Bell rings--Old Lady is swept away._]

[Ill.u.s.tration: YE RAILWAY STATION DURING YE HOLIDAY TIME IN YE ROMAN PERIOD

(From a rare old frieze (not) in ye British Museum)]

[Ill.u.s.tration: "WAR'S ALARMS"

_Timorous Old Lady (in a twitter)._ "Are those cannon b.a.l.l.s, station-master?"

_Station-Master (compa.s.sionately)._ "Oh no, mu'm, they're only Dutch cheeses, 'm', come by the Rotterdam boat last night--that's all, mu'm!"]