Punch, or the London Charivari, Vol. 159, July 28th, 1920 eBook

This eBook from the Gutenberg Project consists of approximately 51 pages of information about Punch, or the London Charivari, Vol. 159, July 28th, 1920.

Punch, or the London Charivari, Vol. 159, July 28th, 1920 eBook

This eBook from the Gutenberg Project consists of approximately 51 pages of information about Punch, or the London Charivari, Vol. 159, July 28th, 1920.

Presumably this refers to the Cornish St. Ives, and to show how serious the problem will be for quite large families I need only refer my readers to the well-known poetical riddle which is generally supposed to refer to the Cornish St. Ives too.  It will be seen at once that in the case of a septuagamist going to or returning from St. Ives with his family the cost will be vastly greater, even if no special luggage rates are leviable for the carriage of excess cats.

Fortunately there is a much nearer St. Ives in Huntingdonshire, and if I was going to St. Ives at all, with or without encumbrances, I should certainly choose that one.  As a matter of fact the Huntingdonshire St. Ives is a very pleasant place indeed, with a lot of red-and-yellow cattle standing about, if one may take the authority of the County Card Game in these matters.  It is almost as pleasant as Luton, where there is a fellow in a blue smock with side-whiskers and a reaping-hook, and Leicester, which consists solely of a windmill and a house where RICHARD III. slept on the night before the Battle of Bosworth Field.  Not a word about RAMSAY MACDONALD.

But we are not talking about RAMSAY MACDONALD and the County Card Game; we are talking about Sir ERIC GEDDES and his railway fares, and talking pretty sharply too.  What is to be done about this monstrous imposition?  And how are we going to show the Government that you cannot play about with ozone as you can with margarine and coal?  If only all passengers were prepared to act in concert it would be easy enough to bring Sir ERIC to his knees.  The best and simplest plan would be for everybody to ask at the booking-office for a half-fare, stating boldly that his or her age was exactly eleven years and eleven months.  It might not sound very convincing, of course, even if you had a red-and-black cricket-cap on the back of your head and covered your beard or what not with one hand; but a constant succession of people all demanding the same thing would most certainly cause the booking-clerk to give way.  It might occur to him besides that, since so many people insisted on giving their wrong ages for the pleasure of fighting in war-time, they had a perfect right to do the same for the pleasure of travelling in peace-time; and in the case of the women his reputation for gallantry would be imperilled if he had the impudence to doubt their word.

But would everybody be prepared to take up this strong and reasonable line?  I doubt it, and we must turn to the consideration of other economical devices.

One plan which I do not honestly recommend is travelling under the seats of the railway compartment, like Paul Bultitude in Vice Versa.  I say this partly because the accommodation under the seats is not all that it ought to be, and even where there is no heating apparatus a tight fit for large families, and partly because you have to face the possibility that your tickets may be demanded on the platform

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Punch, or the London Charivari, Vol. 159, July 28th, 1920 from Project Gutenberg. Public domain.