Blank Reminiscences 



And here should sit, 'neath gay-fringed parasols, 

 Fair creatures with blue eyes and golden curls 

 (Not drenched with scents as foreign ladies are), 

 Smelling of kid gloves and Eau de Cologne. 

 Shiny black-belted youths, in braided caps 

 And braided blue frock-coats, should wait on them, 

 Making substantial laughter and slight jests — 

 Heroes undress from the next garrison, 

 With much-Macassared ringlets auburn-hued. 

 And corkscrew-twirled moustache of brighter red — 

 Arch conquerors of hearts in county towns. 



And the repast now ended — Cornet Phibbs 

 Would bear the camp-stool to yon mossy mound — 

 Would spread the sketch-book, and the tumbler fill 

 (For Cornet Phibbs is quite the ladies' man) ; 

 While sweet Miss Flora Fubbs, with much ado, 

 Seating herself in graceful attitude, 

 And choosing paint-brushes and mixing paints. 

 Declares she always makes a wretched daub 

 When people stand and watch her as she draws. 



But Cornet Phibbs replies — " It is too bad ! 

 'Pon honour, 'tis too bad. Gweat artists like 

 To make a mystewy and monopoly, 

 Hiding the secwets of their art. Now I 

 Thought I should get a winkle watching you. 

 You didn't know I dwew ? — I learnt at school." 



" Perhaps you only learnt to draw your sword." 



" Why, that I can, of course — and also corks — 

 And covers — haw ! — haw ! — haw ! But what I mean, 

 Fortification — haw ! — in Indian ink. 

 That sort of thing — and though I dwaw it mild — 

 Yet that — haw ! — haw ! — that may be called my foiie." 



" Oh fie ! for shame ! where do you think you'll go 

 For making such a heap of foolish puns ? " 



" Why to the Punjaub I should think — haw ! — haw ! 

 That sort of job you know would suit me best." 



We knew we must soon pass Guadalquivir, which would 

 here meet us for the first time since leaving Seville, and 

 probably for the last time in our lives. We expected his 



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