The Project Gutenberg EBook of Punch, Or The London Charivari, Vol. 101,
September 5, 1891, by Various

This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or
re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.net

Title: Punch, Or The London Charivari, Vol. 101, September 5, 1891

Author: Various

Release Date: September 27, 2004 [EBook #13538]

Language: English

Character set encoding: ASCII

*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PUNCH ***

Produced by Malcolm Farmer, William Flis, and the Online Distributed
Proofreading Team.

PUNCH,

OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.

VOL. 101.

September 5, 1891.

SOME CIRCULAR NOTES.

CHAPTER III.

_REIMS--NIGHT--STREETS--ARRIVAL--LION
D'OR--DEPRESSION--LANDLADY--BOOTS--CATHEDRAL--LONELINESS--BED._

It is just ten o'clock. Reims seems to be in bed and fast asleep,
except for the presence in the streets of a very few persons, official
and unofficial, of whom the former are evidently on the alert as to
the movements, slouching and uncertain, of the latter.

We drive under ancient Roman Arch; DAUBINET tells me its history in
a vague kind of way, breaking off suddenly to say that I shall see it
to-morrow, when, so he evidently wishes me to infer, the Roman Arch
will speak for itself. Then we drive past a desolate-looking Museum.
I believe it is a Museum, though DAUBINET's information is a trifle
uncertain on this point.

We pass a theatre, brilliantly illuminated. I see posters on the wall
advertising the performance. A gendarme, in full uniform, as if he
had come out after playing _Sergeant Lupy_ in _Robert Macaire_, is
pensively airing himself under the _facade_, but there is no one else
within sight,--no one; not a _cocher_ with whom _Sergeant Lupy_ can
chat, nor even a _gamin_ to be ordered off; and though, from one point
of view, this exterior desolation may argue well for the business
the theatre is doing, yet, as there is no logical certainty that the
people, who do not appear outside a show, should therefore necessarily
be inside it, the temple of the Drama may, after all, be as empty as
was _Mr. Crummles_' Theatre, when somebody, looking through a hole in
the curtain, announced, in a state of great excitement, the advent of
another boy to the pit.

And now we rattle over the stones joltingly