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DECEMBER 29, 1894.] 




Scene — Mr. Punch's Sanctum at " the Season of the Year." Enter Sir Roger de Coverlet and Dr. Syntax. 

• • T7*OU may not recognise me, Mr. Punch ? " quoth the old Knight, with stately modesty. 

X " Not recognise Sir Roger de Coverlet ? " rejoined Mr. Punch, urbanely. " Why, even disguised as a 

Saracen's Head — ha ! ha ! ha ! — I should know those well-loved lineaments." 

11 1 perceive, indeed," said the Knight, with scarcely-veiled complacency, " that you have perused my friend Atticus- 
Addison's ail-too flattering account of me and my several adventures." 

" 1 know my Spectator by heart," replied Mr. Punch. " Nor," added he, turning to the quaint, black-vestured, bob- 

wiggcd flgure at Sir Roger's elbow, " are Dr. Syntax's Tours unfamiliar to my memory. Like yourself, I can say — 

1 Ton well know what my pen can do, I I ride, and write, and sketch, and print, I I prase it here, I verse it there, 
And I employ my pencil too. | And thus create a real mint ; | And picturesque it everywhere. ' " 

" Marvellous man ! * cried Dr. Syntax, lifting his eyebrows until they almost met the downward curve of his tilted wig. 

" Toby," cried Mr. Punch, " call for clean pipes, a roll of the best Virginia, a dish of coffee, wax candles, and the 
Supplement (otherwise my Christmas Number). Tell them, Tobias, to follow with a bowl of steaming punch — my own par- 
ticular merum nectar — and Sir Roger shall see what I have forgotten of his story, his tastes, and the duties of Amphitryon ! " 

In two minutes the Illustrious Trio were " making the centuries meet " under the benignly blending influences of 
Good Tobacco, Sound Tipple, and Cheery Talk. 

" And how fares ' Our Village ' (to quote Miss Mitford) in these revolutionary days ? * queried Dr. Syntax. 

Mr. Punch smiled, and promptly quoted : — 

' And liquor that was brew'd at home 
Among the rest was seen to foam. 
The Doctor drank, the Doctor ate, 
Well pleased to find so fair a treat. 

Then to his pipe he kindly took, 
And, with a condescending look, 
Oall'd on his good Host to relate 
What was the Village's new state.' " 

" Exactly so," cried the pursuer of the picturesque, profoundly flattered by Mr. Punch's prodigious memory. 

" Aye, prithee, Mr. Punch," said the old Knight, seriously, " tell us what means all this new-fangled nonsense of 
Parish Meetings, Village Councils, Hodge pitchforked into power, and Squire and Parson out of it, and I know not what 
revolutionary rubbish and impious absurdity ? " 

" It means, my dear Knight," replied Mr. Punch pleasantly, " that power and responsibility, otherwise the Village 

Vote, are, like a new Iphigenia, to rouse the rustic Oymon into manhood and manners, till he of whom it was said that 

' His corn and cattle were his only care, 
And his supreme delight, a country fair,' 

shall learn to rule not only himself, but his own village. You remember your Dryden, Sir Roger y^ VjC 



[Dbcbmbbr 29, 1894. 

" Humph ! " groaned the Knight, " too well, too well ! 

' A judge erected from a oountry clown ' 
might do well enough in poetry, hut may mean ruin in practice. My misguided and stubborn friend, Sir Andrew 
Frkepobt, should have lived to see this day, and acknowledge the prescience of the testy old Tory he was wont to deride." 

" Tilly-vally, my dear Sir Roger," returned the host, cheerily ; " trouble not thine honest soul with such gruesome 

forebodings. ' The old order changeth, yieldeth place to new.' But 'tis ' lest one good custom should corrupt the world.' 

Ctmon, with a vote, will not capsize the Commonwealth, any more than the British workman hath done, despite the 

prognostications of Bob Lowe and other cocksure clever ones. I '11 see that the ' Good Old Times ' are not banished, save to 

give place to Better New Ones ! The New Village, Dr. Syntax, may not be quite as picturesque — in the old artistically 

dilapidated, damp, dirty, disease-gendering sense — as the old one. As you yourself said — 

* Though 'twill to hunger give relief, 
There 's nothing picturesque in beef. ' 

No, nor are cleanliness, sanitation, education, fair wage, an independent spirit, and the capacity for self-government These 

things, dear Doctor, make the Man, not the Picture, and Man-making is— or should be — the aim of modern statesmanship." 

" Mr. Punch," said Sir Roger de Coverlet earnestly, " my only wish is that Merry England, in going in for the 
New Politics may not lose the old humanities and humours and heartinesses." 

" As described, Sir Roger, in your own words, of which your presence and the festive season, remind me : 

4 1 have often thought that it happens very well that Christmas should fall out in the middle of winter. It is the most dead, un- 
comfortable time of the year, when the poor people would suffer very much from their poverty and cold, if they had not good oheer, warm 
fires, and Christmas gambols to support them.. I love to rejoice their poor hearts at this season, and to see the whole village merry in my 
great hall. I allow a double quantity of malt to my small beer, and set it a-running for twelve days to everyone that calls for it.' " 

(The Spectator, No. 131, Tuesday, July 31, 1711.) 

" Trust me, gentlemen," continued Mr. Punch, " all that was really good — like this — in the Good Old Times you 
know can be preserved in the Better New Times we hope for. Tiiere will be plenty of work for the Sir Rogers, the 
Dr. Syntaxes, for your humane Vicar, Doctor, and your Squire Hearty and Squire Bounty, in the New Village as in the old 
one. We love the old country customs, but our country danoe cannot for ever be to the same old tune — even the loved and 
time-honoured one of * Sir Roger de Coverley * ! " 

"Sir," said the good old Knight, gladly, "you are doubtless right — as you always are — and I shall return to the 
Shades greatly solaced both by your good cheer and your good counsel ! " 

" Sorry to lose your company so soon ! " cried the Fleet Street Amphitryon. " I perceive, Dr. Syntax, that your old 
grey mare, Grizzle, awaits you at the door. ' Vale ! Vale ! * You ride pillion-wise, Sir Roger, I suppose. Well, to 
cheer your journey, brighten the Shades, and reassure ye both as to the safety of the New Village under the guidance of the 
Old Counsellor, take with ye my 

#ite pmitarefc mtfr Sfebeirtjj fltotame ! ! " 

%&m « »■.-/'. xK*Ni 

Digitized by 


July 7, 1894.] 



" Don't make a Noise, or else you 'll wake the Baby 


About the reminiscences of George Augustus Sala there lingers 
a before-the-Flood flavour which abashes my Baronite. In Things 
I hare Seen, and People I have Known, two volumes, published by 
Cassbll, there is nothing merely modern. The only thing G. A. S. 
doesn't appear to have seen was the world in the state of chaos, and 
almost solitary among the people he has not known was Methu- 
selah. That is an illusion due to the art of the writer, for, as a 
matter of fact, his recollections commence in the year 1839, when he 
was a boy at school in Paris, snubbed, fillipped, tweaked, punched, 
and otherwise maltreated, by way of avenging Waterloo in his 
person, and redressing the petty injuries inflicted upon Napoleon at 
St. Helena by Sir Hudson Lowe. Mr. Bala has not only lived long, 
but, like Ulysses, has travelled much, and has had singular good 
fortune in being around when things were stirring. Thus, for 
example, in the year 1840, as he happened to be strolling down the 
Rue de la Pair, he saw a carriage draw up at a jeweller's shop, 
escorted by a troop of shining cuirassiers. In it were two handsomely- 
dressed ladies, " in cottage bonnets, with side-ringlets." There was 
also a Norman peasant- woman, and in her lap reposed a greatly glorified 
baby. One of the ladies was the Duchesse D'Orleans, Consort of 
the Heir Apparent, and the bundle of pink flesh was the Gomte de 
Paris, who seemed at the time to have nothing to do but to grow up 
to man's estate, and take his plaoe among the kings of France. 
Sixteen years later, in the Rue de Rivoli, Mr. Sala saw another 
carriage; more glittering cuirassiers; another little pink face; 
again two little pudgy hands, and a surrounding wave of lace. Baby 
number two was the Prince Imperial, and the scenes culled from 
the flowery field of the preat journalist's memory mark two memor- 
able epochs in French history. A mere list of the people Mr. Sala 
has known, and the things he has seen, form of themselves an entic- 
ing, even an exhilarating chapter. Thackeray and Dickens he 
knew, and worked with, and he throws some fresh light on their 
characters. Soldiers, actors, statesmen, kings, murderers, and 
habitats of debtors' prisons, have all come under his observation, 
and live again in his pages. He is careful to make it clear that this 
u not his autobiography. On that he is still engaged. This work, 
presented as a sort of hors d autre, effectually serves to whet the 

appetite, and makes the world hope he will hurry up with the 
remaining dishes in the rare feast. " So says my Baronite, and the 
Court is with him." 

In reply to a question, which is "not a conundrum," at least 
so says an Inquirer, as to ' why the Baron spells ' sherbet ' with two 
' rV instead of only one," the Baron would remind his interlocutor 
that, firstly, " genius is above all rules " ; that, secondly, the Baron 
would rather err with two " r's" than have anything to do with a 
"bet" when it can possibly be avoided; thirdly, that being of a 

generous disposition, in this hot weather he loves prodigality in 
quids • not ashamed of avowal. Finally, he states that he uncon- 
ditionally withdraws the " r " in the second syllable of " sherbert," 
because m " sherbet " there is no 9 ert to anyone. So here 's to his 
eminent Inquirer's jolly good health, says 

The Bountiful B. de B.-W. 

One of the most pleasing incidents at the opening of the Tower 
Bridge was the introduction by the Lord Chamberlain of the 
Recorder of London to H.R.H. the Prince of Wales. " Our Own 
Special " was not sufficiently near to hear the dialogue that passed 
between them, but he has reasons for believing that Lord Carrington 
observed to H.R.H.. "Sir, I have the honour to present to your notice 
Sir Charles Hall." Not to be outdone in courtesy, the Recorder 
immediately added, "And I, Sir, am delighted to make known to 
your Royal Highness Lord Carrington." Then returned the 
Prince, with his customary gracious kindliness, "I am rejoiced 
to meet two officials of so much distinction; but, do you know, 
—I fancy we have met before I Indeed I am certain that the 
excellent make-up of Sir Charles' wig and the easy carriage of 
the Lord Chamberlain could only have been acquired oy long prac- 
tice on the boards of the Cambridge A.D.C. I congratulate you my 
Lord, and von Mr. Recorder upon the excellent use to which you have 
put the educational advantages that you and I have derived from 
our common Alma Mater." At this point the Tower guns began to 
be fired, and consequently the remainder of the conversation was lost 
in the reverberations of heavy artillery. 


vol, cni. 



[July 7, 1894. 

D i y i L i zLb?U by 


July 7, 1894.] 



Constable {to foreground) regulating Carriages and Pedestrians going North and West, to comrade ditto going East and South). " 'Old 


[Indicates with his left thumb the crush of Loungers who are patiently waiting his leave and help to get across to " The Ladies' Mile" 


(Some Way after Southey's " Battle oj 

"OldKaspar" . . Sir W. V. H-bc-bt. 

It was a summer evening, 

Old Kaspab's work was done ; 
And he before his oottage door 

Was resting in the sun, 
And by him sported on the green 
Brae's little daughter, Witlebine. 

She saw Bull's youngest, Johutttkin, 
Roll something large and round 

Which he beside the village pump 
In playing there had found ; 

He came to ask what he had found 

That was so large, and smooth, and round. 

Old Ka8par took it from the boy, 

And winked a wary eve ; 
And then the old man shook his head, 

And with a natural sigh, 
" This is some Landlord's skull," said he, 
" Who fell in our Great Victory ! 


"This jog of ale, my WnxEBniB, 

Seems rather thin and flat! 
Eh ! ' Budget-Beer,' of the new tap ? 

WatereLand weak at that I 
Humph ! With it, then, I mustn't quarrel. 
It is that sixpence on the barrel I 

" There is some comfort in this skull. 

Hope there '11 be more about ! 
Death has its Duties, may have more, 

As rich folk will find out ; 
For many wealthy men," said he, 
** Were 'hit,' in our Great Victory ! " 


44 Now tell us what 'twas all about," 

Young Jomnmmr he cries ; 
And little Witlebine looks up 

With wonder- waiting eyes ; 
" Now tell us of that Budget war, 
And what they whopped each other for." 

" It was the Rads" old Kaspab cried, 

" That put the Mobs to rout 
But what we whopped each other for 

Some people can't make out. 
But 'twas a long, hard fight," quoth he, 
* * And we 'd a well-earned Victory 1 

" Eaton Hall, Chatsworth, Blenheim, then 

Raised quite a Bitter Cry • 
Dukes said their dwellings they 'd shut up, 

(Though that was all mv eye !) 
They 'd be hard put to it (they said) 
To keep a roof above their head. 


" With protests loud the oountry round 

Was ringing far and wide ; 
Our * Predatory Policy ' 

(As usual) was decried. 

But such things will attend," said he, 
" A Democratic Victory I 

" They said it was a shocking sight 

After the fight was won 
To see rich Landlords quake with f ear— 

And to their lawyers run! 
But things like that, you know, must be 
After a Liberal Victory. 


" Great terror seized on Brother Brora ; 

The brewers all turned green." 
44 That was a very cruel thing ! " 

Said little Witlebinr. 
44 Nay, nay, you naughty girl ! " quoth he ; 
44 It was a- People's Victory 1 

44 And everybody praised the Knight 

Who such a fight did win I " 
44 But what good comes of it— to us ? " 

Quoth little Johnhykin. 
44 Ah ! if you lire, you 'U learn ! " said he ; 
44 But 'twas a Glorious Victory ! 

44 1 don't quite like this Budget-Beer, 

It savours of the pump. 
But— there 's a meaning in that skull 

Will make the Landlords lump, — 
Both Peers and Bungs; ana that? quoth he, 
44 Makes it a fruitful Victory ! " 

A great many young ladies have a literary 
taste just now, and during this warm weather 
are rushing into print. 


[July 7, 1894. 


(A Story in Scenes.) 
Scene I.— Sib Rupert Cuxverin's Study at Wyvern Court. It 
is a rainy Saturday morning in February. Sir Rupert is at his 
writing-table, as Lady Culverin enters with a deprecatory air. 

Lady Culverin. So here you are, Rupert ! Not very busy, are 
yon ? I won't keep yon a moment. (She goes to a window.) Such a 
nuisanoe it's turning out so wet with all these people in the house, 
isn't it P 

Sir Rupert Well. I was thinking that, as there 's nothing doing 
out of doors, I might get a ohanoe to knock off some of these con- 
founded accounts, but— -{resignedly) — if you think I ought to go and 
look after- — 

Lady Culv. No, no, the men are playing billiards, and the women 
are in the Mornin* Room— they 're all right I only wanted to ask 
you about to-nignt Tou know the Lullingtons and the dear 
Bishop and Mrs. Rodney, and 
one or two other people, are 
coming to dinner? Well, who 
ought to take in Rohesll r 

air Rup. (in dismay). Ro- 
hesll ! No idea she was coming 
down this week I 

Lady Culv. Yes, by the 4.45. 
With dear Maisib. Surely you 
knew that? 

Sir Rup. In a sort of way ; 
didn't realise it was so near, 
that's all. 

Lady Cuh. It's some time 
sinoe we had her last. And she 
wanted to come. I didn't think 
you would like me to write and 
put her off. 

Sir Rup. Put her off? Of 
course I shouldn't, Axbinia. 
If my only sister isn't welcome 
at Wyvern at any time— I say, 
at any time— where the deuce 
t* she weloome P 

Lady Culv. I don't know, 
dear Rupert. But— but about 
the table P 

Sir Rup. So long as you don't 
put her near me— that's all I 
care about. 

Lady Culv. I mean— ought I 
to send her in with Lord Lul- 
lington, or the Bishop P 

Sir Rup. Why not let 'em 
toss upP Loser gets her, of 

Lady Culv. Rupert/ As if 
I could suggest such a thing to 
the Bishop! I suppose she'd 
better go in with Lord Lul- 
ungton— he's Lord Lieutenant 
—and then it won't matter if 

she does advocate Disestablish- « t^, • ftftrth MgMttwl vou to 

ment Oh, but I forgot ; she Whai on earth P° 98e88ed y° u to 

thinks the House of Lords ought to be abolished too ! 

Sir Rup. Whoever takes Rohesll in is likely to have a time of it 
Talked poor Cahtzre into his tomb a good ten years before he was 
due there. Always lecturing, and domineering, and laving down 
the law, as long as I can remember her. Can't stand Rohesll— 
never could I 

Lady Culv. I don't think you ought to say so, really, Rupert. 
And I r m sure J get on very well with her— generally. 

Sir Rup. Because you knock under to her. 

Lady Culv. I'm sure I don't, Rupert— at least, no more than 
everybody else. Dear Rohesll is so strong-minded and advanced and 
all that, she takes such an interest in aU the new movements and 
things, that she can't understand contradiction ; she is so democratic 
in her ideas, don't you know. 

Sir Rup. Didn't prevent her marrying Cantire. And a demo- 
cratic Countess— it 's downright unnatural ! 

Lady Culv. She believes it 's her duty to set an example and meet 
the People half way. That reminds me— did I tell you Mr. Clarion 
Blair is coming down this evening, too P— only till Monday, 
EL&V Rup. Clarion Blair ! never heard of him. 

Lady Culv. 1 suppose I forgot Clarion Blair isn't his real 
name though ; it 's only a— an afias. 

Sir Rup. Don't see what any fellow wants with an alias. What is 
his real name P 

Lady Culv. Well, I know it was something ending in " ell," but 
I mislaid his letter. Still, Clarion Blair is the name he writes 
under ; he 's a poet, Rupert, an d qu ite celebrated, so I 'm told. 

Sir Rup. (uneasily). A poet ! What on earth possessed you to ask 
a literary fellow down here t Poetry isn't much in our way ; and a 
poet will be, oonfoundedly ! 

Lady Culv. I really couldn't help it, Rupert. Rohesll insisted 
on my having him to meet her. She likes meeting clever and in- 
teresting people. And this Mr. Blair, it seems, has just written a 
volume of verses whioh are finer than anything that 's been done 
since— well, for ages! 
Sir Rup. What sort of verses P 

Lady Culv. Well, they 're charmingly bound. I've got the book 
in the nouse, somewhere. Rohksia told me to send for it ; but I 
haven't had time to read it yet 
Sir Rup. Shouldn't be surprised if Rohesll hadn't, either. 
Lady Culv. At all events, she 's heard it talked about The young 

man's verses have made quite'a 
sensation ; they 're so dreadfully 
clever, and revolutionary, and 
morbid and pessimistic, and all 
that, so she made me promise to 
ask him down here to meet her! 
Sir Rup. Devilish thoughtful 
of her. 

Lady Cuh. Wasn't it P She 
thought it might be a valuable 
experience for him j he's sprung, 
I believe, from qutte the middle 

Sir Rup. Don't see myself 
why should he be sprung on us. 
Why can't Rohesll ask him to 
her own place? 

Lady Culv. I daresay she 
will, if he turns out to be quite 
presentable. And, of oourse, he 
may, Rupert, for anything we 
can tell. 

Sir Rup. Then vou've never 
seen him yourself I How did 
you manage to ask him here, 

Lady Culv. Oh, I wrote to 
him through his publishers. 
Rohesll says that 's the usual 
way with literary persons one 
doesn't happen to nave met 
And he wrote to say he would 

Sir Rup. So we're to have a 
morbid revolutionary poet stay- 
ing in the house, are we P 
He'll oome down to dinner in a 
flannel shirt and no tie— or else 
a red one— if he don't bring 
5§£^- down a beastly bomb and try 

to blow us all up! You'll find 
you've made a mistake, Al- 

•* • Ute ^ «" *» *~ ' " ™2&S£?&£ E^bht, 

aren't you just a little bit narrow t You forget that nowadays the 
very best houses are proud to entertain Genius— no matter what their 
opinions and appearanoe may be. And besides, we don t know what 
changes may be ooming . Surely it is wise and prudent to conciliate 
the clever young men who might inflame the masses against us. 
Rohesll thinks so ; she says it may be our only ohanoe of stemming 
the rising tide of Revolution, Rupert ! 

Sir Rup. Oh, if Rohesll thinks a revolution can be stemmed by 

asking a few poets down from Saturday to Monday, she might do 

her share of the stemming at all events. 

Lady Culv. But you will be nice to him, Rupert, won't you P 

Sir Rup. I don't know that I 'm in the habit of bein* uncivil to 

any guest of yours in this house, my dear, but I'll be hanged if I 

' " * ; the tide ain't as high as all that But it's 

grovel to him, you know ; 

an infernal nuisance, 'pon my word it is ; you must look after him 
yourself, I can't I don't know what to talk to geniuses about ; % I 've 
forgotten all the 

___^ I ever learnt And if he comes out with any 
of nis Red Republioan'theories in my hearing, why — - 

Lady Cuh. Oh, but he won't, dear. I'm certain he'll be quite 
mild and inoffensive. Look at Shaxspearr— the bust, I mean — and 
he began as a poacher ! t 

Sir Rup. Ah, and this chap would put down the Game Laws if he 
could, I daresay; do away with everything that makes the country 

Jult 7, 1894.] 


living in. Why, if he had his way, 
riA, there wouldn t be 


Lady Culv. I know, dear, I know. And 
yon must make him see all that from your 
point. Look, the weather really seems to be 
clearing' a little. We might all of us get out 
for a drive or something after lunch. I 
would ride, if DeerfooV* all right again; 
he's the only horse I ever feel really safe 
upon, now. 

Sir Rup. Sorry, my dear, but you '11 have 
to drive then. Adams tells me the horse is 
as lame as ever this morning, and he don't 
know what to make of it. He suggested 
having Hoksfall over, but I've no faith in 
the local vets myself, so I wired to town for 
old Spavin. He 's seen Deerfoot before, and 
we could put him up for a night or two. (To 
Tbxdwsll, the butler, who enters with a 
telegram.) Eh, for me P just wait, will you. 
in case there 's an answer. (As he opens it.) 
Ah, this is from Spavin— h'm, nuisance I 
" Regret unable to leave at present, bron- 
chitis, junior partner could attend immedi- 
ately if required.— Spavut." Never knew 
he had a partner. 

Tredw. I did hear, Sir Rupkrt, as Mr. 
Spavin was looking out for one quite recent, 
being hasthmatical, m'lady, and so I suppose 
this is him as the telegram alludes to. 

Sir Rup. Very likely. Well, he's sure to 
be a competent man. We 'd better have him, 
eh, Albinia ? 

Lady Culv. Oh, yes, and he must stay till 
Deerfoot J s better. I'll speak to Pomfret 
about having a room ready in the East 
Wing for him. Tell him to come by the 
4.45 t Rupert. We shall be sending the 
omnibus in to meet that. 

Sir Rup. All right, I 've told him. (Giving 
the form to Tbedwell.) See that that's 
sent off at once* please. (After Tbedwell 
has left.) By the way, Albinia, Rohesia 
may kick up a row if she has to come up in 
the omnibus with a vet, eh ? 

Lady Culv. Goodness, so she might I but 
he needn't go inside. Still, if it goes on 
raining— I 'if tell Thomas to order a fly for 
him at the station, and then there cawt be 
any bother about it. 


No. I.— Bouquet de Babylon; ob, The 

Citizen's Evening Walk. 

Phmuqb I Doctors may talk, but— I 've been 

for a walk, which they swear will keep 

down adiposity. 
And preserve your liver from chill and shiver, 

or growing a shrivelled callosity. 
So I put on my hat— for I am (retting fat I— 

and I 've been for a walk— in the City. 
The result of that walk ? Well my mouth is 

like chalk and my eyes feel all smarting 

and gritty ; 
I 've got a sore throat from the matter afloat 

in the air. It may sound like a fable, 
But I'm game for betting that London is 

getting one large andmalodorousttaofe/.' 

Dear days of McAdah I If only we had 'em, 
with all disadvantages, back again ! 

Oh! to hear the rattle of well-shod cattle 
upon the old granite-laid track again. 

But this wooden pavement, e'en after lave- 
ment is simple enslavement to nastiness, 

For when it is dry 'tis foul dust in your eye, 
and when moist mere malodorous pasti- 

Oh, slip-sloppy Cabby, this Bouquet de Baby- 
lon sums of ammonia horridly, 

And stable-dust flying is terribly trying when 
Phoebus is pouring down torridly ! 

My palate quite hot is, my larynx and glottis 
feel like an Augean Sahara, 


Kitty (reading ajairy tale). " ' Once upon a time thebe war a 
Mabel (interrupting). " I bet it 's a Pbincess I Go on ! " 

I 'm frantic with drouth, and the taste in my 
mouth is a mixed Malebolge and Marah. 

The water-carts come; but they're only a 
hum, for the sun and the wind dry it up 

And then on manure in a powder impure the 
pedestrian's fated to sup again. 

It's worse than a circus. If men from the 
•' Vorkus" were turned on to keep it well 
swept up, 

There might be improvement. But there 's 
no such movement; the dire thorax- 
torture is kept up. 

Manure-desiccation sets up irritation and 

then inflammation will follow, 
Tour tonsils pet red, you 've a pain in vour 

head, ana you find it a labour to swallow. 
And as to your nose !— well, I do not suppose 

for that organ reformers feel pity, 
Or I really can t think every species of stink 

would find such ready home in the City. 
There's nothing more foul than your grim 

Asphalte-ffhoul,— save that dread Tophet 

Valley of Buntan's !— 
And then manhole whiffs ! Or nose- torturing 

sniffs from the shops that sell " Sausage- 

and-onions " ! ! 

What everyone knows is the human proboscis 

this Bouquet de Babylon bothers. 
Surely pavements of wood cannot be very 
good when they lead to such stenches 
and smothers. 
Ah, Sir. and dear Madam, I'm sure old 
McAdam— though scientist prigs may 
prove sceptic- 
Would be welcomed back by the sore- 
throated pack. Mother Earth is the true 
Antiseptic t S 
And so ends my talk on alate evening walk, and 
the woes of this dashed wooden pavement, 

Which worries my nose, sets my thorax in 
• throes, my nostrils stuffs up, till I 'm like 
a pug pup, all snorts, sniffB, and snuffles • 
my temper it mules ; gives me a choked 
lung, and a coppery tongue, a stomach at 
war, and a nasal catarrh ; a cough and a 
sneeze, and a gurgle and wheeze ; a thirst 
ouite immense, and a general sense that 
the bore is intense ; and a perfect con- 
viction, beyond contradiction, that till 
the new brood paved our city with wood, 
and its air made impure with dust-pow- 
dered manure, I never was sure that at 
last I had hit on one poor true-born Briton 
who was for a sore-throated slave meant ! 

(To Mr. James Payris Conundrum.) 
[" Why does a cabman always indignantly re- 
fuse hit proper fare P "—James Pain.] 

Oh well, beoos fare is not fair ! 

Beoos sech lots o' fares is shabby ! 
Beoos yer Briton is a bear, 

Or else a blessed ignerent babby ! 
Beoos bare fare comes bloomin' 'aid, 

And wot is 'ard cannot be ** proper " I 
Beoos we 're worrited by the "Yard," 

The British Female and the " Copper " ! 
Beoos if yer takes wot is guv, 

Yer fare thinks 'e's too freely "parted" ! 
The more you shows yer " brotherly love" 

The more the fare gets 'arder 'carted. 
Beoos if one bob for two mile 

You takes, wivput a botheration, . 
Fare sniffs a diddle in yer smile; 

(That 's wy we puts on hindignatibn ! ) 
Beoos " strike-measure " do not pay. 

In sububs lone, with fare 'swot 's shabby. 
Beoos— well fin'lly. J should say, - 

Beoos Fare 's Fare, and Cabby \ Cabby ! 


[Jult 7, 1894. 

i- r 



FlipbvM {the famous young Art-Critic). "Ullo 1 What 'b this Pencil Sketch I 'ye jtst found on this Easel ? " 

Our Artist: " Oh, it 's by Flumpkin— the Impressionist Fellow all you Young Chaps are so enthusiastic about, you 
know. Clever, ain't it?" 

FlipbuU. "Clever! Why, it's divine! Such freshness, such naivete 1 Such a splendid scorn of mere conventional 
Technique I Such a " 

Our Artist. " Ullo, Old Man ! A thousand pardons 1 That 's the wrong thing you 've got hold of 1 That 's just a 
Scribble by this little Scamp of a Grandson of mine. His first attempt 1 Not very pbomisino, I fear ; but he 's only 


ENGLAND TO FKANCE. — Junb, 1894* 

Aye ! Long live the Republic ! 'Tis the cry ' 
Wrong from as even while the shadow of death 
Sudden projected, makes us eatoh our breath 

In a sharp agony of sympathy. 

Her servants fall, but she — she doth not die ; 
She strideth forward, firm of foot as Fate, 
In calm invincibility elate ; 

The tear that brimmeth, blindeth not her eye, 
So fixed aloft it lowereth not to greet 
The writhing reptile bruised by her unfaltering feet I 

Vive la Republique ! How can we who love 
Fair France's charm, and sorrow at her sorrow* 
Better bear witness, on the bitter morrow 

Of her black grief, than lifting high above 

Even the mourning that all hearts must move, 
That cry, blent of goodwill and gratulation P 
Vive la Republique ! In the whole stricken nation 

Doth not the dumbness of Pretenders prove 
The land's possession by that cleansing fire. 
Which purges patriot love from everylow desire ? 

Bister in sorrow now, as once in arms, 
Of old " fair enemy " on many a field, 
In valiant days but blind, we will not yield 

To any in that sympathy which warms 

All generous hearts, or love of those gay charms 
Nature and Genius gave you as your own 
To wear, inimitable and alone : 

And now the asp-hearted Anarch's mad alarms 
Make monstrous tumult in the midst of peace 
We ory " let brothers band till Cain-like slayers cease ! " 

The slaughtered son you bear from forth the fray, — 
Like some winged Victory, or a Goddess high. 
With steps unshaken, glance that seeks the sky, 

Such as your glorious sculptors shape from day, — 

Was noble, brave, and blameless ; him to slay 
Was the blood-blinded phrenzy of blaok hate. 
Through him the Anarch struok at your high state, 

Fair ohoioe of Franoe, but baffled crawls away. 
Prone at your feet your faithful servant fell, 
But you stride calmly on, unscathed, invulnerable. 

So may it be till Anarchy's stealthy blade 
Falls pointless, shattered, from its palsied grasp, 
And helpless, harmless as a f angless asp 

It slinks from freedom's pathway, foiled, afraid, 

Whilst the Republic, strong and undismayed, 
With robe unsmirohed, its Hem no longer gory, 
Strides proudly on the true high path of glory. 

Take. France, a sister's wreath, before you laid, 
la honour of you, and of vour hero brave. 
Love's garland shall not fade on gallant Carnot's grave ! 

Sir, — I enolose a cutting from the Manchester Guardian, June 25. 
"Yesterday the Darwen police arrested Thomas Beckett, a weaver. 
During a disturbance in a local public-house on Saturday night Bbckbtt 
was kicked under the chin, and died immediately." 
Query when was Thomas Beckett arrested P What became of the 
man who, in the " disturbance," kicked Beckett under the ohinP 
Yours , Snippeb, 

" The New Boy."— Doing wonderfully well. •' Going strong."— 
White Lodge, Richmond. 







Digitized by 


Jolt 7, 1894.] 



Madame Sans- Gene, represented by Madame Rejahs, at the 
Gaiety Theatre, has made a decided hit The plot of the pieoe by 
Messieurs Sardou and Moreau is poor, but it shows what an ex- 
perienced dramatist can do with meagre materials and one strikingly 
food notion. It seems as if the plan of the play was started fromthe 
idea of an interview between the great Napoleon, when Emperor, 
with a washerwoman whose bill for washing and mending he, when 
only a poor lieutenant, had been unable to discharge. This scene is 
the scene par excellence of the piece. It is here that both Madame 
Rejaxe and M. Duqiteswe are at their very best. Besides this, 
and the scene between Napolion, La Heine Caroline, and Madame 
de Bulow, when there is a regular family row admirably acted by 

M. Dttquesne, with the 
tongs, and Miles. Verheuil 
and Suger with their glib 
toneues, there is very little 
in the piece. 

M. Caote, as the ser- 
geant who rises to Mart- 
chal, is very good, as is 
also M. Lrrand, as Fouchi. 
Madame Rejane is a 
thorough comedienne, but 
it is most unlikely (good as 
are historically the stories 
told about this same washer- 
woman elevated to the rank 
of Duchess) that she, in an 
interval of nineteen years 
— »>., between 1792 and 
1811— should not have been 
able to wear her costume 
with, at all events, some 
praoe and dignity, and it 
is most improbable that 
the clever bianchisseuse of 
1792 should, in 1811, have 
found any difficulty in 
managing her Court cos- 
tume without rendering 
herself outrageously 
ridiculous. All this hitch- 
ing up of the dress and 
kicking out of the lop 
"goes" immensely with 
the audience ; and this 
must be the comidienne % s 
excuse for overdoing the 
farcical business of her 
chief scenes, save the best 
of all, which, as I have 
already surmised, was the 
motive of the pieoe, name- 
ly, the scene with the 
Emperor in the Third Act 
Here she is perfect, only 
just assuming so much of 
ner old manner as would 

Madame Bans-Gene " going Nap." 

naturally come to her when chatting with " the little Corporal " over 
old times. 

As to M. Duqttesne as Napoleon premier,— well, middle-aged play- 
goers will call to mind Mr. Benjamin Webster as a far more perfect 
portrait of the great Emperor than is M. Duqttesne, but the latter 
has the advantage in manner, and realises the Emperor's traditional 
eccentric habits in a way which at once appeals to all conversant with 
the story of the eccentricities of the Great Emperor when he chanced 
to be in a very good humour. Perhaps nowadays there are very few 
who read Levee's works, but a dip into Charles O'MaUey, with 
Phiz's spirited illustrations, will give exactly the phase of Napo- 
leon's character that Messrs. Sardou and Moreatt have depicted 
in this piece. 

The play is well mounted, and the acting of all, from the leading 
nrts to the very least, is about as good as it can be. The incidents 
of the drama are not particularly novel, but they are safe, and to 
every Act there is a good dramatic finish. Madame Rejane may 
congratulate herself and " Co. " on a decided success in London. 


I EEELT begins for to think as how as a truly onest Waiter, asknos 
his place, and his warious dooties, and is allers sivil and hobligin, 

Fits more respected and more thort on the holder he gros. Here have 
bin atendinp at the worry best houses both at the West Hend, and 
also at the pride of all Hod Waiters, the onered Manshun Ouse, for 
nearly twenty long ears, and I can trewly say as I allers gets a sivil 
word from everyboddy. And when sumboday was speshally wanted 
the other dayto sho that most himportent Body, the London Press, 
all over the Wunderfool Tower Bridge, so that they coud give a trew 
and correct acount of all its wonders for the newspaper people to read 
and wunder at, who did the clever Chairman seleot to nelp in that 
most himportent hoffioe but me, tho I am only Robest the Citty 
Waiter ! And when the thowsends and tens of thowsends of people 
red the gloing aoounts as filled the Press a day or too arterwards, they 
little thort perhaps of the many risks as the pore Waiter ran to save 
hisself and the reporters from the fallin Grannit, and the blocks of 
mettel, as every now and then fell about us ! 

One of the worry biggest and blackest of the hole lot fell within 
about six foot of where I stood, so jest another six foot mite have 
put a hend to a Waiter who, I fondly hopes, has done his duty like a 
man and a Brother, tho many people did snmtimes larf at him. 

Strange to say, only jest 2 days before my honored wisit to the 
wunderfool Bridge, I was arsked to take a jurney to Boolong, which I 
bleeves is in France, and back again in the same day ! but I aint a 
werry good Sailer so I thort I had better decline it. So Bbown went 
in my place, and worry much he says he injoyed it, tho he didn't git 
home till eleven o Clock at night ! 

I don't think as he's a werry good sailer, so, if he did enjoy it, 
the sea must have bin worry uncommon smooth, and both ways, 
too ! He says it ways a Dutiful new wessell, and called the Marger- 
reet, which, strange to say, was bis Grandmother's name, which may 
acount for its treeting him so smoothly. 

Most of the Gents of the London Press on their wisit to the Big 
Bridge seemed to think most of the opening and shuttin of the 
enormers shutters as they opened and shut all of their own aoord 
to let the big ships go thro, and werry wunderfool they suttenly 
was, but to my poor mind, ewery body as reelly wants to see the 
most butiful part of the hole show shoud have hisself took up in the 
lift to the walk along the top, which is only about 240 feet high, and 
then he can have such a grand view of our butiful river Terns as 
werry few has ewer had sinoe it was fust made. One of the Press 
Genu, seeing me staring at it with wunder and admiration, came up 
to me and sea, ** Why, Mr. Robest, you've most suttenly picked 
out the most lovely view of the lot. I don't know what enormus 
distance we can see, but if you looks just where I 'm a pinting you 
will see the Eristel Pallia, and it don't look more than a mile or two 
away ! " No more it did ! And as for the crowds of ships as we 
ooua see with our naked eyes, I schod have thort they was more than 
ewer entered the River in a month or two, and all round was the 
butiful bills and grand houses, and everythink looking chock full of 
bussel and prosperity, and all quite reddy to make use of the butiful 
Bridge as soon as ever it was opened ! as it was by the nobel Prince 
of Wales on the following Satterday. Robert. 

Mrs. R. was driving lately in a friend's barouche, which seemed 
to swing about a great deaL and made her feel rather uncomfortable. 
m ~ was not surprised at this, however, when she heard the carriage 
on "Sea "springs! 

was on' 


Must it be Margate ? 

Shall it be Dover? 
How hit the target, 

Spend summer in clover ? 
Why not to Filey 

Flit, or to Yarmouth ? 
Will the Welsh rile me 

If I try Barmouth? 
South Coast's entrancing, 

East builds and braces; 
Blue waves are dancing 

At hundreds of places 1 
Soon must I settle, 

Unless I 'm a craven, 
And grasping the nettle 

Decide on a haven. 
Fine hills at Malvern ; 

Harrogate haunts me ; 
Lynmouth is all fern ; 

What is it daunts me ? 

Well, to speak truly, 

There 's no place like London, 
In March or in July, 

When well, or when run down 1 
Train in a twinkling 

Brightonward bears me ; 
If I want sprinkling [me. 

In the face a "chute" stares 
Summer 's delightful 

In Town— nerves feel regal ; 
Cabbies not spiteful 

Offered what's legal 1 
Yes, I'll take holiday 

When it grows chilly ; 
Why at this jolly day 

Flee Piccadilly? 

Is the end vapid? 

Can't help it!— Next 
By "P. L.M. Zapide" 

I reach Nice in no time 1 


Bewarb !— As wood pavement is said to be injurious to throats, 
specially in summer tbne, it would be advisable net to reside in the 
Northern district, As the roads there mtist be all St. John's w-wwi 
pavement. CngfflzecT by KJRJ 



[July 7, 1894. 


Jolt 7, 1894.] 




Domestic Economy. j 

1. WBat are the duties of a I 
oook ? Do these duties differ I 
from those of (a) a housemaid, 
(b) a parlour-maid, and (e) a | 
general servant ? 

2. Can monev he saved hy a 
deposit account at the stores P | 
If so, compare the store prioes 
with the charges made at a 
West End shop for beef, i 
mutton, potatoes, muslin, and 
mixed biscuits ? 

3. If a dinner (with wine) for 
four costs £6 10*. at a club, 
how much should a dinner for 
eight (four males and four 
females) cost at home ? 

4. What do vou know of the 
School for Cookery? 

5. Give briefly the best way 
of living on £500 a year on the 
basis that your husband is a 
clerk in a Government office, 
and your family consists of a 
daughter, aged fourteen, and 
a son rising seven. 

a 1. Give a short account of the 
life of any one of the follow- 
ing eminent wives who were a 
comfort to their husbands— 
Catherine Pa RR,Queen Ma by. 
and Henrietta Maria, Con- 
sort of Charles the First. 

2. Point out the mistakes of 
Marie Antoinette in special 
regard to the career of Louis 
the Sixteenth. 

3. Give some of the reasons 
why Queen Elizabeth pre- 
ferred celibacy to marriage, 
and prove that those reasons 



" What ! you did this, and you never told mi before ! How care- 
less of you, Mary ! " 
"Well, Ma'am, I thought ft didn't much matter, as the Arms 


4. Give a short account of 
the married life of David Cop- 
perfield, and criticise the 
manages of his first and his 
second wife. 


1. What are the duties of a 
wife and a matron ? 

2. Supposing your husband 
to have come home weary from 
a hard day's work, should you 
read him your latest novel, or 
see that he gets his supper ? 

3. Inyouropinionwhichisof 
greater importance, your gown, 
or your knowledge of Greek ? 

4. Write an essay upon the 
respective merits of being 
known as the wife of your 
mate, or your poorer-half 
being called "Mrs. So-and- 
So's husband." 


(An Unpublished Letter to a 
Whistetical Wcsleyan, which 
shows the infinite possibilities 
of historic parallels. ) 

Dear Sir, — I am much 
obliged to you for your letter, 
in which you call my attention 
to the widespread practice of 
whist-playing, and in parti- 
cular to the deteriorating effect 
of threepenny points. 

May I remind you of the 
fact, whioh I make no doubt 

Jrou have temporarily over- 
ooked, that John Wesley's 
favourite game was whist? 
like John Wesley^ I play 
whist, and I do not mind con- 
fessing that when I get a good 
hand I am none the worse 
pleased. Believe me, Tours 
faithfully, R-8-b-ry. 


(With Apologies to Miss Loftus for calling her 

The weary worldling of to-day 

Uneasy wanders to and fro 
To find in all things, grave or gay. 

Just nothing that is M worth a blow," 

(Forgive the curious phrase.) although 
It '8 absolutely certain, this— he 

Will praise in phrase* all aglow 
The imitative charms of Cissie. 

The orchestra begins to play, 

The lights are high that once were low. 
Then Cissie comes without delay. 

Her simple dress tied with a bow. 

How kind of Fortune to bestow 
On us this captivating Missie. 

'Twere vain to try to overthrow 
The imitative charms of Cissie. 

Miss Florence St. John's artless way, 
Miss Yohe in her ballad " OA, 

Oh, Honey, Honey ! " or Jane May 
A s Pier rette and Pierrot, 
YvETTE Gutlbert's superb argot, 

Miss Letty Lind in " JEmm*. Kissie," 
Are all invoked to help to show 

The imitative charms of Cissie. 

V Envoi. 

Friend, if you chanoe to find it slow, 
And seek a joyous form of dissi- 

-pation, quickly get to know 
The imitative charms of Cissie. 

44 A Deane should be more reverend," said 
Mr. Willis, Q.C.. in the Bettini case. 

44 Where there's a Will xs a way," re- 
torted Mr. Deane, Q.C. 44 4 If you wfll be 
honest with me, I will be honest with you.' " 
4 4 The whole matter is very dear," interposed 
the learned Judge, severely. " Mr. Bettini- 

Wiixi8 expects from the Deane, chapter " 

44 And verse," interposed Mr. Deane, Q C, 
and straightway broke out melodiously with — 
" 'Tis good to be merry and wise, 

'lis good to be thorough and true, 
If you will be honest with me, 

Then I will be honest with you ! " 
Chorus of everybody. Harmonious proceed- 
ings, and Court adjourned. 


Extracted from the Diary of Tobt, M.P. 

House of Commons, Monday, June 25. — 
Abqttith back on Treasury Bench quite a 
changed man. Anxious air that marked his 
appearanoe through last week disappeared. 
Painful to watch him as he then sat on Bench 
with one eye on the door. Started at rustle of 
paper of amendments. Half rose from his 
seat if a book f ell. 

44 Yes Tobt," he said, when I congratu- 
lated him on the happy accomplishment of 
the event ; 44 it 's not the kind of thing I should 
like to go through every six months. Till 
he 's tried it, no one knows what it is to have a 
steam engine stationed at his front door night 
and day with steam up ready to whisk him 

on* to White Lodge at a moment's notioe." 
Home Skcbetabt managed to keep much 
cooler than the Mayor of Richmond. This 

that functionary. Szlumper is nis name, 
Surrey is his county. As soon as notification 
made of birth of prince, Szlumper took off his 
coat and set to work. First telegraphed to 
happy Duke and Duchess of Teck at White 
Lodge. Then bethought him of happier father ; 
so Duke of York hears from Szlumper who 
4 4 trusts Her Royal Highness and son are doing 
welL" Szlumpbr's appetite growing with 
what it feeds upon, he next approaches Her 
Majesty with 44 loyal and sincere congratula- 
tions." Finally, the Prinoe and Princess of 
Wales at Marlborough House hear from him. 
Szlitmper always signs his name tout court, 
like a peer of the realm. 

44 He 's splendid this Szlumper," said the 
Member for Sark. 4 4 Reminds me of a story I 
heard in America about Judge Hoar. He had 
great dislike to Wendell Phillips. When 
the great orator died they gave him a splendid 
funeral. A friend meeting the judge on morn- 
ing of event said, 4 Aren't you going to the 
funeral?' ft No,'saidHoAR, 4 but I approve it.'" 

It wasn't Szlumper's accouchement. But 
he approves it. 

Still on Budget ; getting near end of first 
part, which deals with death duties. The 
Busy B.'s. seeing the close of opportunity at 
hand, dash about with redoubled vigour. 

Oh ! 'tis Bartlbt and Bowles and Byrne, 
And Byrne and Bartlbt and Bowles. 

Till the throbbing pulses burn, 
And Butcher piles on the ooals. 




[July 7, 1894. 

The Four Busy (Budget) B'g. 

Business done.— Clause XVIII. added to Budget Bill 

Wednesday.— Graxdolph sails to-day in the track of Columbus, 
only going nmoh farther. He will cross Continent and Pacific to 

India and Burma, 
see the frontier 

Tou remember the old Frenoh song written about Graedolph's 
great ancestor ? It was sung as a lullaby to the little son of Lours 
the Sixteenth, and Napoleon never mounted his horse for the 
fight without humming the air, — 

Maklbrook e'en va-t'en guerre — I Ne saia quand reviendra ! 

Mironton, mironton, mirontaine ! Ne sais quand reviendra ! 

Marlbrook e'en va-t'en guerre... | Ne sais quand reviendra ! 

There is a sad last verse to the old ballad. But we all hope to see 
our Grandolph baok again, bringing his sheaves with him in the 
shape of renewed health and strength. Business done. — Budget. 

Thursday.— Don't Keir Hardie confided to House to-night the 
interesting fact that in particular he Don't Keir for the Royal 
Family, and is "indisposed to associate himself" with effort to do 
them special honour. Like old JEccles in Caste, he upbraids the 
baby in the cradle with being a young aristocrat. Yet there are 
limits even to his uncompromising Republicanism. The question 
before House is the presentation to Her Majesty of address of con- 
gratulation on birth of son of Duke and Duchess of Yore. " If I 
had the opportunity of meeting the parents/' says Don't Keir, ** I 
should be pleased to join in the ordinary congratulations of the 
occasion." He did not hesitate, standing in his place in Parliament 
as representative of the electors of 'Am. to add that he " had been 
delighted to learn that the child was a fairly healthy one." Beyond 
that, stern principle would not permit him to pass. 

Note that he felt constrained to modify even this approval of pro- 
ceedings at White Lodge by introduction of the word "fairly." 
Asquith, who knows all about it, seemed for moment inclined to 
resent this aspersion on the perfect soundness of the object of his 
recent attentions; on reflection he let it pass. Saundebson, of 
whom House has seen lamentably little of late, was under less com- 
plete self-restraint When Don't Eeir turned his attention upon 
Prince of Wales, proposing to appraise his value to the nation, 
Saundersox leaped to his feet, and moved that "the hon. Member 
be no longer heard." 

A diffioult moment this. The Motion being made, the Speaker 
must jrat it from the Chair. Many Members, whilst justly angered 
with Don't Keir's grotesque performance, would have felt bound to 
resent what might be construed as attempt to throttle free speech. 
There would have been long and angry debate; a succession of 
scenes; and Don't Keir Hardie would have been triumphantly 
advertised. Happily, though, strictly considered, irregularly, the 
Squire of Malwood interposed ; expressed hope that Motion would 

not be persevered in. Saundbeson perceiving his mistake acquiesced, 
and Don't Keir Hardie went on to final ignominious collapse. When 
in crowded House question put that Address be presented, a solitary 
cry of " No " answered the loud shout " Aye.' f House cleared for 
division ; but when opportunity of taking final step presented itself, it 
turned out that Hardje Didn't Keir to take it. 

44 Now if this were France in the days when the Empire was totter- 
ing to its fall," said Sari, " I should suspect the secret polioe to have 
put up Don't Ketr to play their game in stirring up embers of popu- 
Iaritity of Imperial Family. In England to-day, of course, no neces- 
sity for such manoeuvre. But if by outside influence the popularity 
the Prince of Wales has worked out for himself could be increased, 
Don't Keir Hardie 's the man to do it." 

Scene from " Caate," adapted for representation in the Bottte of Commons. 

Eecles {played by Don't Keir H-rd-e) addresses the Royal Infant. 
" Everybody in the House is sacrificed for you ! And to think that a Work- 
ing Man. a Member of the House of Commons, and one of the Committee of 
the Banded Brothers for the Regeneration of Human Kind, by means of equal 
diffusion of intelligence and equal division of property, should want the prioe 
of half a pint, while you are lying in the lap of luxury ! " &c, &c, &c 

Business done. — Queen congratulated on birth of latest great- 

Friday.— Been muoh struck through week by appearanceof stranger 
in Speaker's Gallery. Every night about quarter of an hour after 
questions over he has come in ; gone out again a little after eight, 
about time Speaker, when in chair, leaves for his chop. Comes back 
punctually in half an hour ; remains till fifteen or twenty minutes 
before progress is reported, and Chairman of Committees makes way 
for Speaker. Something about him familiar, though never before 
that I remember have I seen that stubbly red beard, or those green, 
poggly spectacles. Quite fascinated me. To-night went up and sat 
in gallery behind him. 

At ten minutes past eight, amendment before Committee disposed 
of, the stranger rose ; heard him exclaim under his breath. " Order ! 
Order ! " saw him dutch at imaginary robe, and stride forth with 
stately tread. Truth burst upon me with a flash. 

It teas the Speaker ! 

" Tou 're a dangerous person to have about the premises, Toby," he 
said as we made our way by circuitous route to Speaker's Court. 
" Every day for last fortnight I have written out myself an order for 
the Speaker's Gallery, have passed the doorkeepers unobserved, and 
remained hour after hour unnoticed. Then your eagle eye falls upon 
me and all is lost. Pray don't let the secret go any further. Fact is, 
for weeks and weeks I 've been shut out of my proper place by this 
Budget Bill. Questions last half an hour or an hour. Then House 
goes into Committee, and I 'm shunted save for few moments after 
midnight, when I adjourn the House. Couldn't stand it any longer. 
Might as well be in Kamtohatka, So have had recourse to this in- 
nocent device, and have thoroughly enjoyed my evenings." 

Business done. — Once through Committee on Budget Bill. Pick 
up dropped threads next week. 

July H, 1894.] 




Let others read the " latest news " 

Our daily papers offer, 
Take pleasure in the smart reviews 

And chuckle with the scoffer, 
Enjoy the leaders, or appraise 

The newest " Labour CrisU," 
Or smile to learn that Brighton A's 

Maintain their recent prices. 

I only find such trifles vex, 

I do not seek instruction 
TJpgn the blemishes whioh X. 

Perceives in Y.'s production. 
And stocks may fall like anything, 

They 'U not affect my fate, or 
Compel less cheerfully to sing 

This vacuus viator. 

The reason why I daily make 

My sacrifice of pennies, 
Is merely for a column's sake 

Which scarce, perhaps, for men is, 
And yet it elevates, refines, 

It stirs the noblest passions, 
That article whose moving lines 

Are headed " Latest Fashions." 

What ioy to ascertain in print 

The latest mode in dresses, 
To learn the new artistic tint 

Adopted by Princesses, 
To roam the galleries with her 

Whose eulogies and striotures 
To hats and dress alone refer, 

And never deal with pictures ! 

Let troubles still oppress the State 

With all their usual rigour, 
I>et politicians still debate 

With undiminished vigour, 
Of such the common person reads, 

But give to me the papers 
That chronicle at length the deeds 

Of milliners and drapers ! 


{By a University Extensionist.) 

Deab Mr. Punch,— What a charming little 
theatre that is at Burlington House I I missed 
you at the mutinies there a few days ago. Of 
course you know the Travelling Provincial 
Company of the Universities' Guild for the 
Extension of High-Class ComedvP Well, 
they visited the Metropolis for their coming- 
of-age, and gave the new extravaganza of 
Hodge , B.Sc, or The Vision of Peers and 
the Plowman. This had nothing to do with 
Jupiter . LL.D. t though no fewer than three 
noble Chancellors took a leading part at the 
different performance*. After all it was 
nothing but a dished-up version of the old 
plav of Gentleman Geordie, or The Cultured 
Collier ; only the pitman business is a little 
played out, and the victim of Agricultural 
Eulightment is just now the vogue, thanks to 
the County Councils. 

But what interest, you will say, can this 
weary work have for "the young person" (is 
not that the phrase ?). Why should Ethel 
and I and the other country cousins, who are 
np to have a good time, waste our precious 
moments on University Extension, when they 
might have been given to the galleries, or, 
better still, to the shops ? Dear Mr. Punch, 
you will not betrav my confidence and print 
my real name, will you, if I tell you the 
reason ? I do so in the hope that you will 
use your great and good influence to support 
our claim for State aid in a matter deeply in- 
teresting us girls in the provinces. 
. I have always thought that the most 
important object of University Extension 
has been overlooked. It certainly was the 
other day. I mean this. In the present 
unparalleled depression of the matrimonial 



No. 1.— "Alleged Contempt of Court by an Infant." 

market, what we want is a constant supply 
of nice, eligible young men from the Univer- 
sity ** brought home to our very doors," as 
they say about culture and the people. We 
cannot all live in garrison towns, and what 
are two or three curates among so many? 
Already, as I have seen in one of the maga- 
zines tor young ladies, the cleric oloth is 
being supplanted in romantic fiction by the 
lay lecturer's velveteen. But we must have 
State said, and, if neoesary, create a fresh 
Government Department, for the increase 
and support of this class of men. The pro- 
fession would be very popular; those who 
joined it would keep marrying and moving 
on (I hope I express myself intelligently], 
and there would soon be enough to go round. 

Ethel's papa, who is not very rich, and has 
a large family, told her that people in Borne 
who married, and had three children, got a 
sort of degree for it, and were let off taxes. 
It seems to me that the scheme for State aid 
which 1 suggest is a much more modest one. 

A man that played the title-role in Hodge, 
B.Sc., gave vent to what I considered a very 
stupid sentiment. " Give us," he said, 
" some really useful and sensible instruction, 
not silly lectures about Love and Marriage, 
just to make people laugh I " This only 
shows how dreadfully void of finer feeling is 
your man of Agricultural Enlightenment. 
Why, we once had a delightful course on 
almost the very subjects at whioh he was 
ignorantly pleased to scoff I It was given by 
an interesting-looking young graduate from 
St. Valentiner s, and was called. " Byron and 
Shelley, with dissolving views." I remem- 
ber well the questions set by him for one of 
the weekly papers. Shall I repeat them? 
He had just been lecturing on Don Juan. 

1. Give in alphabetical order the chief at- 
tractions of the Hero of our poem. 

2. Cite parallels to Don Juan among the 
gentleman friends of your acquaintance other 
than Extension Lecturers. 

3. Contrast the character (if any) of Haidee 
with that of {a) The Maid of Athens, 
(6) Queen Mab. 

I took a lot of pains over this paper, and I 
sent the lecturer an anonymous button-hole, 
with a request (in the same handwriting as 
on the answer-paper) that he would wear my 
floral tribute at lecture. He did so, and ex- 
pressed himself as greatly pleased with my 
work. On my exercise (which I have kept) 
he wrote the following observation :— " Ex- 
cellent ; most appreciative and womanly ; I 
thank you; should like to discuss a small 
question with you after class." 

Now we want more, of this spirit among 

Extension Lecturers. True, the one of whom 
I spoke turned out afterwards to have been 
married all the time, and I dd think he should 
have mentioned it on the cover of his syllabus ; 
but the principle holds good just the same. 

So, dear Mr. Punch, on this question of 
State aid. at which I have (as I hope with 
delicacy) hinted above, you trt'tfhelpus, won't 
you? Your devoted, Madge. 

P.S.— Couldn't you lecture to us on some- 
thing nice, and help to raise a fund for our 


Deab Mr. Punch,— There are so many 
lives of the great Napoleon being published 
nowadays that one might fancy the former 
ruler of France must nave been as many- 
careered as a cat. Still, it may be interesting 
to your readers if I give a few particulars of 
the great man that have not yet appeared in 
print, if I except the pages of your own im- 
mortal volumes. 

I had the pleasure of meeting the great 
Napoleon some forty or fifty years ago ; he was 
then in his prime. 

In personal appearance he was not unlike 
the portraits so familiar to the public. In 
spite of his enthusiastic devotion for France, 
he invariably addressed his troops in the 
English language. This is a characteristic 
that seemingly nas escaped the attention of 
all his biographers. 

The numbers and quality of his army have 
been much exaggerated. Although in his 
speeches he was accustomed to boast of the 
strength of his troops, as a matter of fact 
they could be more easily counted by tens than 
hundreds. His artillery was almost a myth, 
and the ammunition was chiefly composed of 
crackers. As for his cavalry, the horte3 were 
showy but unreliable, many of them had white 
spots, and not a few were extremely intelli- 
gent. His favourite charger had been known 
on occasion (when engaged in circus duty) to 
drink a glass of sherry with the down. 

But there is one point I particularly wish 
to set right. Although known by the public 
as Napoleon Buonapabtb. my hero in private 
life was invariably called by his intimates 
41 poor old Gomjebsal." 

Yours respectfully, 
The Amphitheatre Boswell Rkdivivus. 
Within Site ofAstley's. 

P.8.— I saw the latest actor's edition of 
Napoleon the other night at the Gaiety. He 
wasn't " in it " with " Gomebsal,"— but then 
Gomebsal wasoccasionally on horseback ; still, 
there was the uniform and the snuff-box. _._ 

vol. cvn. 



[July 14, 1894. 

Lord Chief Justice 


Lord Russell of Killowen, King Henry the Fifth 

Mr Punch. 


Therefore still bear the Balance, and the Sword : 
And I do wish your Honours may increase I " 

Second Part of King Henry the Fourth, Act., V 

Digitized bv 


July 14, 1894.] 



(A Shakfpeariom " Living Picture " up to date,) 

t^a n;~f T„m*;*A ( I^ BI > Russell of 

Lord Chief Justice . . . [ KlLL0WEN . 

King Henry the Fifth. . Mb. Punch. 

King. You are right, Justice, and you weigh this 
Therefore still bear the balance, and the sword : 
And I do wish your honours may increase ! 

• • • • • 

For which I do commit into your hand 

The unstained sword Coleridge was used to 

With this remembrance, — That you use the same 
With the like bold, iust, and impartial spirit 
As you hare shown before. There is my hand ! 

Second Part of King Henry the Fourth, 
Act V. &. 2 {slightly altered). 

As Harry unto Gasooigne gave t 
So Punch to Russell gladly gives 

That Sword which frights but rogue and slave, 
By which our ordered freedom lives ; 

And gives therewith his hand in token 

Of pleasure more than may be spoken. 

Nought have you " done that misbecame 
Your place, your person," or your power. 

'Tis a right crown of orescent fame, 
Of fitness full befitting dower, 

That you, my Lord, " have foremost hand" 

In dealing justioe round the land. 

If set in quaint Shakspearian guise, 
Not less the motley- wearing Sage 
Gaily presents to serious eyes 

A laving Picture for the Age. 
8o ** take it — earnest wed with sport," • 
From one who, stooping not to court, 
Loves e'en to praise in merry sort ! 

* Tennyson's The Bay Dream. 


Ob, Lunch among the Bowers. 
Air—" Love among the Ruined 

When the early cat erotica! ly smiles 

On the tales, 
I arise and rather accurately fling 

That is handy and adapted to my sense 

Of offence; 
Then I reconstruct my well-avenged head 

On the bed ; 
Bat the hope of sleep deferred is deadly dull, 

Memoranda from the great and golden time 
Of my prime. 

Twenty years ago at Henley-on-the-Thames, 

While the gems 
Of the season simply sparkled into cheers, 

(Little dears!) 
I endeavoured to secure the Ladies' Plate ; 

Though of late 
I have been the painful object of remark 

In a barque; 
But the circuit of my waist was not as yet 

Fifty, nett ; 
And I fancy I was feeling pretty fit ; 

That was it. 

Then I fed on oaten fare and milky slops, 

Steaks and chops ; 
Never, never looked a lobster in the face, 

And the race 
flaw me down to just eleven at the scales, 

Hard as nails ; 
Now I very much prefer to view the hunt 

From a punt, 
Or a houseboat, or an ark, or any sort 

Of support, 
While I minimise the necessary strain 

With champagne. 


Housewife. "Well, if I give yotj somk Beeabpast, you'll have to earn it by 
Chopping some Wood for me." 

Tramp. "I'd like ter 'blige yer, Lady. But, bleshyeb 'art, 'tain't fee the 


At the yearly celebration it 's the rule, 

Hot or cool, 
For a girl with yellow eyes and eager hair 

To be there, 
By a mass of mayonnaise and pigeon-pie ; 

Oh the glory of the battle past recall ! 

After all, 
What with hearts that freely wobble, stitoh 
that stabs. 

And the crabs, 
And the quicken up to forty round the chest — 

Lunch is best ! 

Specially - arranged Mono foe the 
Victoria Steamboat Association's New 
Vessel " The Palm." — " Palma, qua 
meruit, ferat"—(i.e.i Let The Palm carry 
as many as she was constructed to carry, and 
not more). 


Old Loves for New. 
(New Version of an Old Song.) 
Ip 'tis pood to be merry and wise, 

If 'tis good to be honest and true, 
Then 'tis good to keep on with the 
And carefully keep off the New : 
For of honesty, truthfulness, wisdom, and 

The u New Woman" shows a most plentiful 

The German Derby (61,000 marks) was won 
at Hamburg by Baron Munchausen's Snider. 
The Baron has done many wonderful things 
in his lifetime (vide the history of his adven- 
tures), and it was a foregone conclusion that 
if he ran a horse at the Derby he was bound 
not only to win, but to make something more 
than his mark. 



[July 14, 1894, 


(A Story in Scenes.) 
Scene II. — The Morning Room at Wyvern. Lady Rhoda 
Cokayne, Mrs. Brooke-Chatteris, ana Miss Vivien Spel- 
wane are comfortably established near the fireplace. The 
Hon. Bertie Pilliner, Captain Thicknesse, and Archie 
Bearparx have fust drifted in. 
Miss S pelican e. Why, yon donH mean to say yon 've torn your- 
selves away from your beloved billiards already r Quite wonderful ! 

Bertie Pilliner. It's too horrid of yon to leave us to play all by 
3 all got so cross and fractions we 've come in here 
to be petted ! 

ourselves ! We 've all got i 

I 11 take the first that comes. (He reaches for the nearest volume on 
a table close by.) How too delightful! Poetry— which I know you 
a// adore. [He turns over the leaves. 

Lady Rhoda. If you ask me, I simply loathe it. 

Bertie. Ah, but then you never heard me read it, you know. Now, 
here is a choice little bit, stuok right up in a oorner, as if it had been 

misbehaving itself. 

[He reads. 

[He arranges himself at her feet, so as to exhibit a very neat 
pair of silk socks and pumps. 

Captain Thicknesse (to himself). Do hate to see a fellow oome 
down in the mornin' with evenin' shoes on ! 

Archie Bearpark {to Bertie Pilliner). You speak for vourself 
Pilliner. I didn't oome to be petted. ' 

Came to see if Lady Rhoda wouldn't 
come and toboggan down the big 
staircase on a tea-tray. Do! It's 
clinkin' sport ! 

Capt. Thick, (to himself). If there 's 
one thing I canH stand it 's a rowdy 
bullyraggin' ass like Archie ! 

Lady Rhoda. Ta muchly, dear boy, 
but you don't catch me travelUn' 
downstairs on a tea-tray twice— it's 
just a bit too clinkin', donMkyou know ! 

Archie (disappointed). Why, there 's 
a mat at the bottom of the stairs! 
Well, if you won't, let's get up a 
cushion fight, then. Bertie and I 
will choose sides. Pilliner, I '11 toss 
you for first pick up — come out of 
that, do. 

Bertie (lazily). Thanks, I'm muoh 
too comfy where I am. And I don't 
see any point in romping and rump- 
ling one's hair just before lunch. 

Archie. Well, you are slack. And 
there 's a good hour still before lunch. 
Thicknesse, you suggest something, 
there 's a dear old chap. 

Capt. Thick, (after a mental effort). 
Suppose we all go and have another 
look round at the gees— eh, what P 

Bertie. I beg to oppose. Do let's 
show some respect for the privacy of 
the British hunter. Why should I go 
and smack them on their fat baoks, 
and feel every one of their horrid legs 
twice in one morning? I shouldn't 
like a horse coming into my bedroom 
at all hours to smack me on the back. 
I should hate it ! 

Mrs. Brooke- Chatteris. I love them 
—dear things ! But still, it 's so wet. 
and it would mean going up and 
changing our shoes too— perhaps Lady 

Rhoda [Lady Rhoda flatly de- « T *n .« a i „ , . 

dines to stir before lunch. ' I 11 read you a regular rouser called < A Trumpet Blast.' » 

^\Z^M re % ff ^ y)t S^J^ ^ * tos better than loafin' 
about, that s all. (To himself.) I do bar a woman who 's afraid of 
a kttie mud. (He saunters up to Miss Spelwane and absently 
pulls the ear of a Japanese spaniel on her knee.) Poo' little fellow, 
then ! • 

Miss Spelw. Poor little fellow ? 

Disenchantment" it's called 
" My Love has sicklied unto Loath, 

And foul seems all that fair I fancied— 
The lily's sheen a leprous growth, 
The very buttercups are rancid ! " 

Archie. Jove ! The Johnny who wrote that must have been f eelin' 
chippy ! 

Bertie. He gets cheaper than that in the next poem. This is his 
idea of Abasement." [jy 6 reads. 

" With matted head a-dabble in the dust, 
And eyes tear-sealed in a saline crust, 
I lie all loathly in my rags and rust— 
Yet learn that strange delight may lurk in self -disgust." 

- .. . On My lap ! ! ! 

Capt Thick. Oh, it— ah—didn't occur to me that he was on your 
lap. He don't seem to mind that. 
Miss Spelw. No ? How f orbearing of him ! Would you mind not 


always fishin' for 
's precious slow 

afternoon. ~ "' " — ~ w ^rshot this 

[He wanders aimlessly about the room; Archie Bearpark 

t j lookout of window with undisguised boredom. 

Lady Rhoda. I say, if none of you are goin' to be more amusm' 
than this, you may as well go back to your billiards again. 

Bertie. Dear Lady Rhoda, how cruel of you ! You '11 have to let 
mcstey. I U be *£good. Look here, I '11 read aloud to you. lean 
-quite prettily. What shall it be ? you don't care P no more do I. 

Now, do you know, I rather like that 
—it 's so very decadent ! 

Lady Rhoda. I should call it utter 
rot, myself. 

Bertie (blandly). Forgive me, Lady 
Rhoda. "Utterly rotten," if you 
like, but not " utter rot" There's a 
difference, really. Now, I '11 read you 
a quaint little production which has 
dropped down to the bottom of the 
page, in low spirits^ I suppose. * ' Stanza 
written in Depression near Dulwich." 
[He reads. 
" The lark soars up in the air ; The 
toad sits tight in his hole ; 
And I would I were certain whioh of 
the pair Were the truer type of 
my soul!" 

Archie. I should be inclined to back 
the toad, myself. 

Miss Spelw. If you must -read, do 
choose something a little less dismal. 
Aren't there any love songs P 

Bertie. I '11 look. Yes, any amount 
—here 's one. (He reads). "To My 

" Twine, lanken fingers lily-lithe, 

Gleam, slanted eyes all beryl- 

green, [awrithe, 

Pout, blood-red lips that burst 

Then— kiss me, Lady Grisoline ! " 

Miss Spelw. (interested). So that 's 

his type. Does he mention whether 

she did kiss him ? 

Bertie. Probably. Poets are always 
privileged to kiss and tell. I '11 see . . . 
h'm, ha, yes ; he does mention it . . . I 
think I '11 read something else. Here 's 
a classical specimen. [He reads. 

" Uprears the monster now his slob- 
berous head, 
Its filamentous chaps her ankles 
brushing ; 
Her twice- five rosea! toes are cramped in dread. 
Each maidly instep mauven-pink is flushing." 
And so on, don't you know. . . . Now I '11 read you a regular 
rouser called "A Trumpet Blast." Sit tight, everybody! [He reads. 

"Pale Patricians, sunk in self-indulgence, (One for you, dear 
Blink your bleared eyes. (Blink, pretty creatures, blink ! ) 
Behold the Sun- 
-Burst proclaim, in purpurate effulgence, 
Demos dawning, and the Darkness— done ! " 

[General hilarity, amidst which Lady Culverin enters. 
Lady Culverin. So glad you all contrive to keep your spirits up, in 
spite of this dismal weather. What is it that 's amusing you all so 
much, eh, dear Vivien ? 

Miss Spelw. Bertie Pilliner has been reading aloud to us, dear 
Lady Culverin— Me most ridiculous poetry— made us all simply 
shriek. What's the name of itP (Taking the volume out of 
Bertie's hand.) Oh, Andromeda, and other poems. By Clarion 
Lady Culv. (coldly). Bertie Pilliner can turn everything into 

July H, 1894.1 



ridicule, we all know, but probably you are not aware that these 
particular poems are considered quite wonderful by all competent 
judges. Indeed, my sister-in-law 

AU (in consternation). Lady Caxtibb ! Is she the author ? Oh, 
of course, if we 'd had any idea ! 

Lady Culv. I've no reason to believe that Lady Caotibe ever 
composed any poetrv. I was only going to say that she was most 
interested in the author, and as she and my niece Maisie are coming 
to us this evening 

Miss Spelw. Dear Lady Culvehin, the verses are quite, quite 
beautiful ; it was only the way they were read. 

Lady Culv. I am glad to hear you say so, my dear, because I 'm 
also expecting the pleasure of seeing the author here, and you will 
probably be his neighbour to-night. I hope, Beetle, that you will 
remember that this young man is a very distinguished genius ; there 
is no wit that I can discover in making fun of what one doesn't 
happen to understand. [She passes on. 

Bertie (plaintively, after Lady Culvebut has left the room). May 
I trouble somebody to scrape me up ? I 'm pulverised ! But really, 
you know, a real live poet at Wyyern ! I say, Miss Spelwane, how 
will you like to have him dabbling his matted head next to you 
at dinner, eh ? 

Miss Spelw. Perhaps T shall find a matted head more entertaining 
than a smooth one. And if you've quite done with that volume, 
I should like to have a look at it. [She retires with it to her room. 

Archie (to himself). I'm not half sorry this Poet-johnny's 
comin' ; I never caught a Bard in a booby-trap yet. 

Capt. Thick, (to himself). She's ooming— this very evening! 
And I was nearly savin' I must get back to Aldershot ! 

Lady Rhoda. So Lady Cantibb's comin' ; we shall all have to be 
on our' hind legs now ! But Maiste's a dear thing. Do you know 
her. Captain Thicxnesse ! 

Capt. Thick. I— I used to meet Lady Maisie Mull pretty often 
some time ago ; don't know if she '11 remember it, though. 

Lady Rhoda. She'll love meetin' this writin' man— she's so 
fearfully romantic. I heard her say once that she 'd give anythin' 
to be idealised by a great poet— sort of— what's their names— 
Petbabch and Laura business, don't you know. It will be rather 
amusin' to see whether it comes off— won't it ? 

Capt. Thick, (choking). I— ah— no affair of mine, really. (7b 
himself.) I'm not intellectual enough for her, I know that. Suppose 
I shall have to stand by and look on at the Petrarchin'. Well, 
there 's always Aldershot ! 

[The luncheon gong sounds, to the general relief and satis- 


" 100, Not Out." Monday, July 2, 1894. 

Congratulations, Mr. C. B. Fry, 

You neatly wiped the Cantab Light Blue eye, 

And well aeserved the fashionable shout 

Which hailed you for your century, not out. 

For your exploits, what language is too tall? 

At cricket good alike with bat and ball, 

Full baok at football (that's Association), 

At jumping lengthways— well, vou lick creation. 

In Schools no idler when stern duty calls, 

Already having got a First in " Smalls." 

Yes, Oxford surely boasts to-day in you, 

Her most distinguished son, a Triple Blue. 

The Lord's good wioket made a scoring high day, 

But you yourself turned Monday into Fry-day ! 

Anarchist Attempt on a Well-known Bridge.— After several 
failures, the Hampton Court Bridge was shot yesterday evening by 
a young man. supposed to be an Anarchist, whose name and address 
remain a profound secret, as t owing to his having taken his outrigger 
by the hour, and, having paid his shot, there was no excuse for nis 
detention by the assistants in charge of the boats. He had been 
dining freely at a neighbouring hostelrie, the sign of which being 
" The Mitre," suggested to the intelligent detective in charge of the 
case the probability of the wretched youth being a " dfne-a-mitre." 
Furnished with this clue, the police are on his track. Fortunately 
the bridge escaped without injury, and tbis morning it not only 
crossed the river itself without difficulty, but assisted many travel- 
lers to do the same. 

Aspiration.— A youthful rhymist, inspired by the Derby, wishet 
to become a Sporting Poet. " * Poet ' and • Prophet,' " he learnedh 

, wishes 
__ -Jtniedly 
observes, ** meant about the same thing in Homeric times; and, 
indeed, in most prophecies of coming events on the turf 1 have 
generally found more of poetry than of profit." The modest rhymster 
says, that as he can never hope to be first in the field of poetry, " he 
may at least become a second Ossy-un." 


It strikes me forcibly that the Wagnerian idea has influenced all 
recent compositions. Nothing is now done without a *' motive." It 
may be a good motive, or a bad motive, or an inadequate motive, or 
an indifferent motive ; but motive there must be with our most modern 
sohool of composers, who, adopting tie Wagnerian idea, (not in itself 
a purely original one,) and improving on it, attribute less importance 
to the l4 Act" than to the "motive," though by a reflex action the 
scheme of the Aot suggests, organises, and it may be added, orches- 
trates the " motives." VAttaque du Moulin is a practical example 

of this theory. It is| 
not styled an opera; 
but a lyric drama in] 
four acta* It is f gild ded ! 
by M. Louis Gallet 
on Zola's story ; it is 
reduced to plain English 
by Mr* Weathebly; 
the mujie is by Alfred 
B&UNBAtr ; and for the 
stage management, 
whioh has so largely 
conduced to its success, 
Sir Augustus Drurio- 
lakus is responsible. 
It is not what the 
sporting papers term 
tr a merry mill," though 
there isplenty of fight- 
ing. There are some 
songs in it, and there 

are some melodies— 
L Attiiqiu du Moulin (4 poivre) or mm . odies _ which 

may catch on when heard a second or third time ; but they certainly 
do not arrest the attention at a first hearing. The music, I judge 
only from the one representation, seems lacking in those catching-on 
airs which, coupled with the admirable acting of the principals, 
made the fortune, sur le champ } of the Cavalleria Rusticana. But 
a " wind-mill " without any " air " can't be expected to *' go." 

Madame Dklna is forcibly dramatio, true, but not powerful as a 
singer, at least in Covent Garden. Nor is there in the character of this 
Maid of the Mill any such great opportunity whereby to test the power 
of the actress as there is in the part of Santuzza, or of Anita 
in La Navarraise. Madame Delna may be all that enthusiastic re- 
porters have said she is, but she must have a great deal of power in 
reserve, for the display of which this opera does not offer the chance. 
Mons. Bouvet as MerUer, the Miller, who ** created " the part in Paris, 
is good, but his acting is somewhat monotonous. Madame db Nuo- 
vnfA as Franc oise, is a young Lady Macbeth, who gives the dagger 
and does not request that it may be returned to her again when done 
with. M. Bonnard, as the Singing Sentinel, reminding me of 
Gilbert and Sullivan's Sentinel " with a song " in one of the Savoy 
Series, was very good; and Mens. Cosstjla, excellent as the escaping 
prisoner, bore so strong a resemblance to the Director of the Fortunes 
of Covent Garden and Drury Lane, that people looked twice at their 
programmes in order to be quite sure that an apology for the singer 
had not been made, and that the much-talented Sir DRUBiOLAirushad 
not, at the shortest possible notioe, consented to be his "remplacant." 
Mons. Albebs, as the German Captain, ought to be in reoeipc of a 
very large salary, seeing "how wide he opens his mouth" when 
singing. All were good in the best of all possible operatic entertain- 
ments, including the unequalled orchestra conducted by M. Ph. 
Flon, (is this " JPhlon-FLOff " ?) who has taken his turn with Signori 
Bevignani, Maxcinelli, ana Mr. Frederic Cowew, the last- 
mentioned ooming to look after his new Opera of Signa, in whioh 
Madame de Nuovtna was oharming, and Signor Bbnj amino Davieso 
appeared as the Anglo- Italian Tenor. Congratulations to Signor 
Frederico Cowuri. 

Saturday night. Elaine. " If it 's not very lively," observes Sir 
Augustus beforehand, " still it must be remembered that 1 have 
not only at heart the interests— and in pocket the interest— of Covent 
Garden, but also of ' Drear Elaine.* Should it prove a joyous opera 
and attract the people, then I shall consider it as an example of 
* Drawer-Elaine 9 at Covent Garden. But now— hark !— let us not 
trifle with time and tune. Maxclnelli is raising his baton , up goes 
the curtain, and all in to begin. Nous verrons." And the all" 
inoludes the Prince and Princess of Wales and their two unmarried 
daughters, and a very good house indeed. " And how u Elaine t " 
is the question. " Very well, thank vou, and much better than she 
was two years ago," is the reply. Elaine is decidedly thinner. One 
Aot gone, and other judicious cuts have reduced her. The opera is 
consequently lighter. Due weight, however, is given to it by 
Madame Melba and Jean pe Reszke. Druriolanub has followed 
the precedent of " cutting the 'oases." But the " cackle" of geese 
followeth not. On the contrary, the applause is abundant. 



[July H, 1894. 


•a i mm 



1 Oh, thank yotj for youe lovely Music, Herb Blumbntofp ! It 's just what I like, 
with the Conversation without in the least interrupting it 1 

It blends so perfectly 


{In the Hot Boom, St. Stephen's Baths, 

Bath-Man, loquitur: — 
Pouf! 'Tis slow work! Were I a Turk, 
Fancy I'd put it through more expedi- 
tiously ! 
Poor little Bills! Funkiness fills 
All their small souls ! See 'em glancing 
Timid and torrid ! Finding it horrid 
Waiting their turns for. shampooing and 

Parboiled and limp, each, as a shrimp ; 
No great result for my long scurryf ring- 
ing 1! ! 

Faith, I am tired ! Been much admired 

For my long patienoe with Big Billy 
He got it hot ! Worrying lot [Budget. 

Some of these fellows. But Billy will 
trudge it 
Pretty soon, now. Splosh ! ! ! What a row ! 

Billy is bulky, and makes a big splashing. 
Head-first he goes, kicks up his toes, — # 

All that is left after boiling and washing. 

Thanks be he 's through ! What 'U I do 
Next, and which of 'em in waiting seems 
I 'm so restricted ! Little " Evicted," 
Small Irish bhoy, seems I fancy the 
•* Equalisation ? " His perspiration 
Something prodigious, and yet— well— the 
other! — 
Oh! English, Sootoh, Welsh, they all look 
like squelch, 
And the task of selection is truly a bother ! 

Had I free ohoioe,— Ah ! but my voice 
Only oounts one nowadays in selection. 

B ALFOUR'&rCo.— they run'the show : 
Matter I think for most urgent reflection. 

They arrogate questions of date, 
Tney set the time, and the temperafor* too. 

If I insist, well, they 'U resist 
Get their way, too, in the long run,— ah ! 
sure to! 

Nice statey^things ! Wish I had wings ! ^ 

Much rather boss small Bath by the 
Bosphorus ! 
Sixes and sevens now at St. Stephen's ! 

Running it all the year round at a loss — 
for us! 
Look at 'em there, each on his chair, 

Wobbly, perspiring and weary o' waiting ! 
Might have oeen done, every one, 

But for Balf ourian procrasti n ating. 

Rum-looking lot ! Don't they seem hot P 

Little "Evicted," young "Equalisation." 
Quite in a stew. The other two. — 

Well, 'tis complete discumboblification ! 
Must make my onoioe ! Waiting my voice ! 

Gentlemen please — Mr. — ahem ! Oh! 
thunder ! 
They all pop up, prompt as a Krupp. 

Which had 1 better first call in I wonder t 


[Mr. Grant Allen and several other advanced 
politicianahave started a new party, the members 
of which are to be called Isocrats, a title very 
similar to one coined by Coleridge for a society 
which he desired to found on principles of general 
equality.— Daily Paper.] 
Many have heard of Pantisooraoy , 

A compound crude of Coleridge and oant, 
The latest products of Democracy 

Dub themselves Isocrats without the 
'Tis as it should be, is it not, [" pant." 

For what are they but sans-culottes 


At last the sky is actually blue. 

Say not " dull, hazy, cloudy, overcast," 
weather prophets, ' fine " alone is true 
At last. 

At last, as June is finishing, the Row 
Looks bright and gay. The difference is 
vast ; 
The sunlit grass, the rhododendrons g^ow 
At last. 

At last my topper flies not in the gale, 

I gazing on its ruin quite aghast, 
Nor gets all spotted after rain or hail, 
At last. 

At last it rests serenely on my brow, 

As Arm as oolours nailed to any mast ; 
In fact it 's somewhat hot and heavy now, 
At last. 

At last you sport your thinnest frocks, fair 
Sweet Chloe, Phyllis, Pyrbha, inm or 
Now Amaryllis dallies in the shade 
At last. 

At last Ne^tba's hair is undisturbed, 
Not out of curl from damp, nor by the 

In tangles blown. She smiles quite unper- 
turbed At last. 

At last. But soon the rain, the fog, the haze 
May spoil light frocks that now sweep gaily 
For tempora mutantur; such fine days 
Can't last. 

Tbavellino Motto at Holiday Time.— 
" Too many Cooks (tourists) spoil the Con 




5 s 

W £ I— I 







^ s- 

Digitized by 


Digitized by 


Jult H, 1894.] 




Maud (who has had the misfortune to bring her Cousin from Provincial Town into the Row), " But, good gracious 1 


He (in intervals of bumping). "B— b— but it was a B — b — Bicycle!" 



This morn, as now for half a soore of years, 
I comfortably caught the nine-fifteen ; 

At noon we met by chance— as noontide nears 
Such the weeks round our daily chance has 
bjen ; 

Yet shipwrecked brother, newly come to land, 

Could not more fiercely seize me by the hand. 

You ask me how I am, nor let it pass, 
But keep on asking till I tell you how ; 

'Twere rude to bid you not to be an ass, 
Churlish to turn a greeting to a row ; 

But, knowing that my general health is fair, 

Why should you daily ask, why should you 

I sometimes wonder, while my knuckles ache 
With unrequited pressure of jour digits, 

While whispered mysteries of nought you 
And take no notice of my patent fidgets— 

I wonder how a real old friend you 'd flatter, 

And how reveal a really private matter. 

Think but a moment, (if you ever think,) 
Inever knead your knuckles with my thumb, 

I never proffer an untimely drink, 
About my own affairs I m ever dumb, 

Yet I believe, in your impulsive way, 

You think we 're bosom friends from child- 
hood's day. 

Yes, though they brand our Engli-h ways as 

cold, [huge city. 

Meetings like ours make glad the whole 

The magnate, weighty as though shod with 

gold, [writty. 

The lawyer's clerk, precocious, film and 

All have the same convulsive warmth of 

for casual people whom they're always 


Is it perchance self -preservation's law 
That drives good will, drowning in 
Mammon's sea, 

To dutch in frenzy at a man of straw, 
And oheer a heart with the hand's amity, 

That in the way of business would stab it— 

Or is it only an absurd bad habit ? 


Should tropical weather continue* let dusted, 
wooden-pa vemen ted, sore throated, weary Lon- 
doner, take train Sunday Morning 11 a.m. Vic- 
toria, or rather let train take him, right away 
to Dover, where he will at once step on board 
the Calais- Douvres, and get one hour and a 
quarter's worth of ozone into his system. Then 
at 2.15 he will land at Calais, when, free of 
baggage, wraps, and all such-like impedi- 
menta, he wiU walk into the buffet of the 
hotel, and having made bis choice from many 
excellent things there set before him, he will 
proceed to walk into his dfjeuner d la 
fourchette, for which meal he will have 
ample time, seeing that the Calais-Douvre* 
does not start on its return voyage till 3.45. 
After dfy'euner comes ih&fourchette, or " fork 
out," which, if the voyageur be wisely con- 
tent with the ordinaire, will amount to a 
very moderate sum. Then, exclaiming with 
the ancient pirate of bye-gone nautieal melo- 
drama, " Once aboard the lugger and we are 
free," he will saunter, leisurely, with cigar, 
pipe, or cigarette, according to the taste and 
fancy of the smoker, down to the boat. 
There, if he be wise and wary, he will at once 
re-embark, in order to secure a comfortable 
arm-chair in a good position, long before any 
trains bearing hot and dusty travellers from 
Belgium or Paris shall appear. There he oan 
sit, smoking calmly under a cool sunshade, 

placidly watching the shooting of the lug 

iy wonder at tne anxiety 
the passengers. Then, farewell France, wel- 
come back to the shores of Old England, and 
the adventurous Briton will find himself 
landed at Victoria Terminus by 7.15 or it may 
be 7.20, with another ozonised appetite, ready 
for a dinner chez lui, — or chez anybody who '11 
give him one, — and afterwards, sufficiently 
tiredj neither fagged nor weary, he will be 
certain of a good sleep at an early hour, and 
sure to wake in the morning all the better and 
fresher for his outing and his inn-ing. 

[N.B.— Fine weather and gentle breeze 
taken for granted.] 

IV. — Between the Dances. 

Ip I were— Jack, and you were— Jill, 
Our waltz of some few minutes back 
Perchance had been a " frightful thrill "— 
If you were Jill, and I were Jack ! 

If I were Jack (that's— So-and-So), 
Of smiles your face would know no lack ; 
That you were stretched on boredom's rack 
You would not do your best to show, 
If I were Jack. 

If you were Jill (that 'e— Somebody), 
I should not find "the work " up-hill ; 
No treading conversation's mill- 
Floor, musio, theatres— wearily, 
If you were Jill. 

If you were Jill, and I were Jack, 

A Kinder light your eyes would fill, 

And I should not look glum and black > I p 

If I were— Jack, and you were— Jnx ! 



[July 14, 1894. 


44 A delightful book," quoth 
the Baron, "is David Garrick, 
written by my worthy friend, 
Joseph Knight, F.8.A. Let me 
recommend this work as one to be 
plaoed by yonr reading chair, and 
to be taken up, as was Mrs. 
Gamp's bottle, when so disponed, 
and oftentimes will you thus enjoy 
a Knight with Gabbick." One 
of the most humorous among very 
many anecdotes in this book is 
that about Boswell going to the 
Shaxspeabe Fete costumed as a 
Corsioan, within his pocket a poem 
he had written for the occasion, 
and " which," says Mr. Knight 
simply, "he intended to speak, 
but the crowd would not suspend 
its diversions to hear him." That's 
all: but isn't it delightful! Poor 
Bozzt ! ! 

The Baron is more than pleased 
to see once again the deft hand of 
Mr. T. H. 8. Escott at work in 
reviews and magazines. His paper, 
entitled " Edmund Yates, an Ap- 
preciation and a Retrospect, '' is 
most interesting to the Baron, who 
can call to mind the persons he 
mentions in literary and jour- 
nalistic connection with Edmund 
Yates— though the Baron does not 
happen to remember them in this 
particular connection, but as a 
band of brothers quite apart, and 
all of them younger by some years 
than Edmund Yates, who, at the 
time Hood, Pbowse, H. S. Leigh 
and others were commencing, had 
made his name in literature, was 
Charles Dickens's henohman, 
and had been also more or less suc- 
cessful, in combination with a Mr. 
Haerington, as a dramatist. The 
time I speak of is when H. J. 
Byron %T nourished," and when 


Bulkeley Biggs (a charming fellow, but a lad dancer). "I can't 
think what all the glbl8 are coming to i they *ve got no 
Back-bonks ! Five wanted to sit out a Dance with me to- 
night ! " 

44 all the world was young." The 
World itself, of course, not having 
been born or thought of. Looking 
back to those days the Baron 
thinks that Mr. Escott does him- 
self an iniustioe, and that he is 
younger than be thinks he is. Be 
this as it may, he will in any case 
have a stock of pleasant memories 
to draw upon, and now, if his 
health permit, all will look for- 
ward to what he cannot look 
forward to himself, ».*., his re- 
miniscences. 4 J Prosit ! Mr. 
Escott! Your health, happiness, 
and a long life to you, quoth the 

Baron db Book- Worms. 

Hbnlet Noim—Why did the 
onlookers persist in making a 
trouble of a pleasure-bout ? De- 
lightful time, but racing not 

By Eton 
Wag beaten 

Lots of pluck 
But no luck. 

Guy and Vivian Nickalls 
easily to the front in the Diamond 
Challenge Sculls, sixth and seventh 
heat. There was no doubt about 
the heat during Henley week, as 
44 seventh heat" only feebly ex- 
presses the temperature. The 
betting on Guy, in povereigns, 
resulted in a loss of Guinness. 
The inscription which goes with 
the Diamond Sculls is done in 


Examiner. What is said to have 

been the food of the Homeric gods? 

Boy. Nectarines and ammonia. 


What, Ladas lioked and the stout Valkyrie 

How are the hopes of noble champions shrunk ! 

Oh, most unfrabjous day! 
No more oan Rosebeby boast the unbeaten 
4 crack," [back" 

Ne more that yacht will go 4i galumphing 
Prize-winner glad ana gay I 

Punch sympathises with his friend Dun- 

Who nevermore may see return to haven 

That gallant, luckless yacht. 
Pbimbose, dear boy, even the fleet Ladas 
May yield without disgrace to Isinglass, 

But Bullingdon /—that 's hot ! 

Perchance the Nonconformist Conscience now 
May be conciliated ! Anyhow 

The horse may " come again," 
But that proud yacht lies twenty fathom 

deep I 
May Neptune carefully and kindly keep 

That hull beneath his main. 

Sure there is nothing of her but should 

Sea-shapen into something rioh and strange. 

Well, England wilTrejrret 
With a good sportsman by disaster struck, 
And hope he '11 live with a new yaoht— and 
To lick the Yankee yet! 


(Consequent on the Peerage Invading the Banks 
of the Bar.) 

May it please your Lordship, the Dnke, 
my learned and noble junior, will read the 

I will leave it to my noble and learned friend 
the Marquis to examine the next witness. 

I can quite understand your Lordship's 
annoyance, but I oan assure you, my lord, 
that the noble Earl from whom I receive my 
instructions promised that the documents 
should be forthcoming. 

I suppose we may leave the question of 
oosts to De settled by our juniors the illustrious 
Prince and the hereditary Earl Gardener ? 

Really, Duke, I must ask you not to inter- 
rupt me while I am conducting this cross- 

I regret, my Lord, that my young and 
promising junior, who has but reoently been 
called to the Bar, should have made the 
concession, but it is only right to tell your 
Lordship that the nobleman in question— 
the Duke of Hebne Bay— misunderstood his 

I am sorry, my Lord, that absence in 
another part of the building prevented me 
from addressing your Lordship. I trust, 
however, that the inexperience of my nobl e 
and learned friend, the Viscount Totten- 
ham Coubt Road, will not be allowed to 
prejudice my olient's interests. 

As your Lordship pleases ! 


Mamma is a judge of divorces. 

Sister Anne is a learned Q.C., 
Eliza is great upon horses, 

And Doba a thriving M.D. 
Aunt Jane is a popular preacher, 

Aunt Susan a dealer in stocks, 
While Father, the gentlest old creature, 

Attends to the family socks. 

Aunt Polly 'be marvel of knowledge, 

With any amount of degrees, 
She 's Master or head of some college— 

I forget whether Corpus or Caius — 
Aunt Nell is the eminent counsel 

Who pleads at the criminal bar, 
And I feed the canary with groundsel 

For I 'm learning to be a Papa. 

I 'm to marry a girl in the City, 

She allows me a hundred a year 
To dress on, and make myself pretty, 

And keep me in baccy and beer. 
The duties P— Oh. as for the duties, 

You oan possibly guess what they are ; 
And I warrant the boys will be beauties 

That are destined to call me Papa. 

44 Babby, come up!" {Quotation from 
Shakspeare by a 44 geUlebal with a cold id 'is 
'cad. 9 ')— Mr. J. Wolfe Babby was made 44 a 
Companion of the Bath," as a recognition of 
his having done his best for the Thames. 

Jolt 14, 1894.] 



House of Commons, Monday, July 2.—" I am sorry," said Cap* en 
Tommy Bowxes, *'that there is no Chatham, Burke, or Fox alive 
at this moment to resist this project of taxing the Colonies." 

In their unavoidable absence the Cap'en, contrary to his custom, 
offered a few remarks. It had been just as well if he had omitted 
the preliminary one. He really did not mean anything, much leas 
did he desire deliberately to offend his friends Bartlby. Butcher, 
and Byrhb. But t as the poet remarks, Evil is wrought by want of 
thought, and the lnvidiousness of Tommy's remark lost nothing of 
sting because he had not intended to hurt anyone's feelings — exoept, 
of course, those of Squire of Malwood, and that is a legitimate 
occupation. When an enthusiastic female admirer observed to the 
eminent Whistler that he and Velasquez were the two greatest 
artists of times ancient or modern, Jemmy modestly observed, " Why 
drag in Velasquez P " Thus Babtlbt, Butcher, and B ybne turned 
upon Tommy with reproachful glance and murmured, " Why drag 
in Chatham, Burke, and Fox P " 

However, all over now. The midnight bells chiming over sultry 
London proclaim passing of Budget Bui through Committee. Been 
a long hard fight, monotonous in its continuity, occasionally exciting 
in its divisions, continuously illustrative of Englishman's faculty of 
never knowing when he's beaten. Honours rest with Squire of 
Malwood. who throughout has unflinchingly and, in the main, good 
humouredly, borne the brunt of battle. The flesh is weak, 
especially when there is a good deal of it, and the thermometer 
stands at 82° in the shade. The Squire has snapped occasionally, 
Jodm's apologetic figure, upright at opposite side of table, proving 
unfailing, irresistible, incentive. Even worse to bear have been the 
desertion of a few followers and the importunity of many. Had the 
8quire been a weaker man, he would long ago have Drought the 
Closure to bear on obstruction, and there would have followed a 
state of irritation, amid which, if Budget was not wrecked, it would 
have appropriated the whole time of an extended Session. The 
Squire, going on another tack, has worn out obstruction by affecting 
the virtue of urbanity if he had it not. 

It was i particularly liard lines, after getting Clause XXVII. through 
Isst Wednesday with a majority of over half a hundred, to be com- 
pelled to recommit Bill, in order that Clajtct might chortle, and 
Kedmohd rage. Squire advised to resist ; condemned from his own 
side when he yielded. But what happened? At quarter past ten 

to-nipht Bill recommitted in respect of this clause, and on stroke of 
midnight the whole thing was done with. 

" We Liberals," said the Member for Sark, " always know better 
than our leaders. As there are many of us, and as we each take our 
individual view, result somewhat chaotic. Good thing if in com- 
parative leisure of week end we think over how the Budget Bill was 
passed, and what would have happened if we had worried the Squire 
into going one of our diverse ways." 

Business done. — Budget Bill. 

Tuesday. — Enter the apothecary. It was Cap'en Tommy Bowles 
who brought him on. The last person in any one's mind. House in 
Committee on Army Estimates ; Hakbury to the fore. Bound to 
live up to the 534 speeches he made and questions he put last year. 
Tommy then beat him by fourteen, and promises to be equally ahead 
in the current Session. The Cap'en hitherto had peculiar advantage, 
seeing that for many weeks he has been, so to speak, cruising in 
home waters. Having been brought up on legacy tax, teethed on 
death duties, Tommy surprised himself and the House with the 
command he displayed over intricacies of Budget Bill. Hanbury 
then fell behind. Now, with House in Committee on Army Estimates, 
he can show Tommy a clean pair of heels, a spectacle in which that 
eminent and able Marine may or may not take keen personal 

Hanbury began at once raising point of order ; Mellor ruled him 
out like a shot; so went off on another tack. Adventured the 
startlingly novel proposition that " promotion should be by merit." 
Enlarged on the tneme for twenty minutes : sat down only when he 
concluded that audience had fully mastered the proposition, contem- 
plation of which was new to their bewildered mind. 

It was at this stage Tommy towed in the apothecary. He appeared 
on the scene quite as abruptly as Borneo's acquaintance in the streets 
of Mantua:— 

I do remember an apothecary, 
And hereabout he dwells. 

Cap'ex omitted details ; but House gathered that his friend the 
apothecary was, like Borneo's, meagre of looks, worn to the bones by 
sharp misery. This condition engendered by circumstance that he 
had oeen brooding in his needy shop, among the green earthen pots, 
bladders, and musty seeds, remnants of packthread and old cakes of 
roses, upon fact that whilst there are surgeon-majors in the Army, 
there are no apothecary-majors. On behalf !of his absent friend, 
Tommy demanded an explanation from Secretary of State for 

Cawmell-Bannerman with the ruthless disregard of Shaksperian 
traditions that seems to suit the War Office, said " apothecaries are 
an expiring class," a way of putting it that suggested they had been 
dosing themselves. Their place was now filled by non-commissioned 
officers, who were called compounders of medicine. 

What a fall is here. Fancy-Borneo going about the moonlit 
streets of Mantua calling out. " What ho ! Compounder of Medicine." 
This callous remark had such effect on Cap'en Tommy that he laid 
aside his speaking-trumpet, and was heard no more through the live- 
long night. Business done.— Some Votes in Army Estimates. 

Thursday. — Looked in after dinner just now; startled to find 
Hanbury on his legs, with bit of dirty white rag held out in 
both hands towards Treasury Bench. Not many Members present ; 
those on Liberal side vociferously cheering. Cawmell-Banwermai* 
looking in better temper even than usual ; which was strange since 
Committee on Army Estimates been at it since four o'clock, and only 
one vote passed. Woodall, only other occupant of Treasury Bench, 
been shewing how a man may smile and smile, and be a Financial 
Secretary to the War Office. Now the smile broadens till it stretches 
almost full length of Treasury Bench. As Sark says, it justifies 
Rubyard Kipling's bold imagery of Bobs sitting on a bucking 

With a smile round both yer ears, 

Ain't ye Bobs P 

Caubtok just bustled in, holding telegram at arm's length. It is 
the reading of this that has broken the monotony of Committee with 
noise of cheering, and dashed a smile along the Ministerial benches 
like a sudden flash of sunlight. Only for this merry mood, one 
entering the House at this particular moment might fear the worst. 
Hanbury been at it hour after hour since Tuesday, when House got 
into Committee on Navy Estimates. Cawmell-Baknermait, a 
person of imperturbable temper. But there are limits to human 
endurance; now they seem to have been reached. This telegram 
Causton has brought in and handed to War Minister doubtless 
announces that all is ready : a file of soldiers waits on the Terrace ; 
Hahbury will be seized, bound, carried forth, blindfolded, shot; 
and then the Committee will really get to business, and vote Suppl; 

A sad fate for one only moderately middle-aged. Tu Vas vout 
Robert William. Still, cannot withhold the tear of pity as the 
hapless man stands clutching at the extended white flag which 
announces his capitulation, his entreaty for pardon, his promise of 
better conduct in rntnre. Digitized by VJ*JIJ^|H 



[July U, I8M. 

Ask Sabs if he won't say something for 
the doomed man. Sabbt, in language not to 
be here repeated, explains that things are 
not what they seem. Fact is, Hanbuby has 
somewhere obtained (in what manner, Sabx 
hints, may be matter for polioe inquiry) a 
portion of sheeting, the property of £lkb 
Majesty, supplied to soldiers. This he has 
brought down, intending to oonfound Caw- 
hell-Bannebman. Happened to bring: it 
out just at the moment when news arrived 
of a great liberal victory snatched at the 
polls at Atterdiffe. That 's all. 

Business done. — Two votes in Army 

House of Lords, Friday. — Peers not 
habitually given to tears. To-night the 
Mabkiss plunged them (especially Ministers) 
into condition of abject woe. Only said 
that England was the head-quarters of the 
Anarchist operations, the laboratory in 
which all their contrivances were hatched. 
Rosebebt jumped at opportunity with in- 
tuition of Old Parliamentary Hand. En- 
larged upon it with skill of born debater. 
Mabkiss saw his mistake. Hadn't meant 
anything ; only his way of nutting a case. 
But here was Rosebebt pitilessly making 
it clear how the Leader of the Patriot 

ex-Prime Minister and ex-Secretary of State 
for Foreign Affairs, would be made much 
of by the enemy abroad. 

Mabkiss for once so singed by his own 
blazing indiscretion that he did not wait for 
Schohbebo Macdonnell's convenient cor- 
respondent, but forthwith endeavoured to 
explain away his remarks. This led only 
to tears coursing more rapidly down Rose- 
beby's pained face, whilst Spenceb forlornly 
shook his beard as if it were the flag of 
England drooping under the shamed skies, 
and Kimbeblet dolefully dropped his head. 
A pretty scene, admirably staged and acted. 

Business done.— The Mabkiss puts his 
foot in it. 

The Two Sarahs. 

Woman, you romp in with ease! 

If you 're not proud you 're hard to please : 

Men talk to-day on every hand 

Of "the Grand Saba" and " Sabah Gband." 

Irish Jarvey. "Let me dhrivk teb Honour to Duxkkn Hrad." 
English Tourist. "I have sees that, Pat. I west there Two Yeabs 
Irish Jarvey. "Ah, yer Honour, shube they 've added to the Scenery 




Startling fob Heb. — Mrs. R.'s niece read out the heading of a 
paragraph in the Daily Graphic last Thursday, which sounded to 
her attentive aunt like " The New Baby." Mrs. R. was all attention, 
expecting some gratifying intelligence from White Lodge. Imagine 
her astonishment when her niece continued, " An addition to the 

collection of the Zoological Society of London was made last week " 

" What ! ! ! " exclaimed Mrs. R., and her niece continued.) " When 
a gnu was born at the menagerie in Regent's Park." The excellent 
lady was dumb with amazement Then her niece showed her the 
heading which was " A Gnu Baby," with the illustration of the gnu 
baby and the old mother. 

Phosphorescence in Abt. — Said Professor Dewab, in a recent lec- 
ture, " A perfectly clean plate of metal does not phosphoresce, but 
the merest trace of grease -such as is left by the touch of the hand 
—will make it brightly luminous." Take, adds Mr. Punch, byway 
of example, a perfectly clean plate of metal, apply to it the hand of 
a skilled etcher, say of Professor Hgbebt Hebkomeb, R.A., and the 
result will be brigntly luminous, and what is more, it will last, and 
its bright luminosity will increase with age. 

Vive Rosebeby !— The owner of Ladas celebrated the Derby 
triumph with an entertainment to the Epsom Poor of the Union 
Workhouse, all Unionists, of course, which makes the Premier's 
Ladasian horse-pitality still more noble. " This week His Lordship 
entertains the Epsom tradesmen," so it is announced. One of the 
entertainments will be of a novel naval character, and will consist of 
a hornpipe by the celebrated Old Epsom Salts. Afterwards nautical 
song, rt All %n the Downs:' 

Really Sensible.— The Lord Chief Justice of England, Lord 
Russell of Killowen, fand if there is anything in a name isn't this 
*' Justice to Ireland " ? ) will commence bis judicial duties, after the 
swearing is over, to-day, Wednesday. His Lordship has appointed 
Mr. R. J. Block to be his Chief Clerk. Excellent appointment! 
Especially in this summer heat, as when oppressed by the weight of 
his l«gal wig, the Lord Chief will simply take it off and put it on 
the Block. 

She Knows!— Mrs. R. is much pained on hearing that in seme 
parts of the Potteries the favourite song is the well-knovtn one 
containing the lines : — 

The beating of his own wife 

Was all the sound he heard. 

As she shrewdly remarks, this indicates the manner in wniuh the 
cottar in this district is accustomed to spend his Saturday night. 

Oob Toby and his Anxious Fbiends.— Mr. Punch has received 
several letters reminding him that the Duke of Rutland is a Cantab, 
not an Oxonian as stated in our Toby's * * Essence " for June 30. Ton y 
is delighted to hear it. He will remember in future that " Mr. 
Crummies is nSt a Prussian," &c, &c. 

"London Playgbounds."— Drury Lane, Lyceum, Haymarket, 
Toole's, &c., Ac. The respective managers say they prefer to see 
these crammed, and object to all 4t open spaces." 

July 21, 1894.] 




Lr my garden, where the rose 
By the hundred gaily blows, 
And the river freshly flows 

Close to me, 
I can spend the summer day 
In a quite idyllic way ; 
Simply charming, you would 

Could you see. 

I am far from stuffy town, 
Where the soots meander 

And the air seems — being 

Close to me. 
I am far from rushing train ; 
Bradshaw does not Dore my 

Nor, comparatively plain, 

To my punt I can repair, 
If the weather 's fairly fair, 
But one grievance I have there ; 

Close to me, 
As I sit and idly dream, 
Clammy corpses ever seem 
Floating down the placid 

To the sea. 

Though the boats that crowd 

the lock — 
Such an animated block !— 
Bring gay damsels, quite a 
• flock. 

Close to me, 
Yet I heed not tasty togs, 
When, as motionless as logs, 
Float defunct and dismal dogs 
There aussi. 

As in Egvpt at a feast, 
With each party comes at least 
One sad corpse, departed beast, 

Close to me ; 
Till a Canon might go off, 
Till a Dean might swear or scoff, 
Or a Bishop— tip-top toff 

In a see. 

Floating to me from above, 
If it stick, with gentle shove, 
To my neighbour, whom I love, 

Close to me, 
I send on each gruesome guest. 
Should I drag it out to rest 
InmygardenP No, I'm blest I 

Non % mercif 


Fob a modest 
camp-pie. suited to 

dish of 

V«MU|r-£UV. OlUbVU W 081X80X8 

and youth militant, commend 
me," quoth one of the Baron's 
Baromtes, "to Only a 
Drummer - Boy, a maiden 
effort, and unpretentious, like 
j its author, who calls himself 
Abthtjb Amyabd. but is 
; really Captain Abthtjb 
I Dbummeb Haggabd. He has 
the rare advantage, missed by 
most people who write soldier 
novels, oi knowing what he is 
talking about. If there are 
faults ' to pardon in the draw- 
ing's lines,' they are faults of 
technique and not of anatomy." 
"The Court is with you," 
quoth the Babok be B.-W. 


Orlando. "Tibbd, Rosalind?" Rosalind. "Pneumatically.' 

i Hotel Note.— The chef at 
, every Gordon Hotel ought to 
be a "Gordon Bleu." 


(Bisley Edition.) 

Question. What is the ambition of every 
rifleman f 

Answer. To become an expert marksman. 

Q. How is this to be done r 

A. By practice at the regimental butts 
(where such accommodation exists), and ap- 
pearing at Bisley. 

Q. Is the new site of the National Rifle 
Association better than the last P 

A. Certainly, for those who oome to Bisley 
intend to shoot 

Q. But did anyone turn up at Wimbledon 
for any purpose other than marksmanship ? 

A. Tes, for many of those who occupied the 
tents used their marquees merely as a suitable 
resting-place for light refreshments. 

Q. Is there anything of that kind at Bisley ? 

A. Not muoh, as the nearest place of inte- 
rest is a crematorium, and the most beautiful 
grounds in the neighbourhood belong to a 

Q. Then the business of Bisley is shoot- 
ing f 

A. Distinctly. Without the rifle, the place 
would be as melancholy as its companion 
spot, Woking. 

Q. In this place of useful work, what is 
the first object of the marksman ? 

A. To score heavily, if possible; but, at 
any rate, o score. 

Q. Isi necessary to appear in uniform P 

A. That depends upon the regulations 
commanding the prize competitions. 

Q. What is uniform P 

A. As muoh or as little of the dress of a 
sorps that a judge will order a marksman to 

toil. cm. 

Q. If some marksmen were paraded with 
their own corps, how would they look P 

A. They would appear to be a sorry sight. 

Q. Why would they appear to be a sorry 
sight P 

A. Because over a tunic would appear a 
straw hat, and under a pouch-belt fancy 
tweed trousers. 

Q. But surely if the Volunteers are anxious 
to improve themselves they will practise 
44 smartness"? 

A. But they do not want to promote smart- 
ness ; they want to win cups, or the value of 

Q. What is the greatest reward that a 
marksman can obtain P 

A. Some hundreds of pounds. 

Q. And the smallest P 

A. A dozen of somebody's champagne, or 
a box of someone else's soap. 

Q, Under all the circumstances of the case, 
what would be an appropriate rule for Bisley r 

A. Look after the cup- winning, and every- 
thing else will take care of itself. 

Genebal Election Stakes. 
2 to 1 on Rosebery and Ladas (coupled). 
25 to 1 agst Harcourt's Resignation. 
50 to 1 — Nonconformist Conscience. 
70 to 1 — Budget Bill (off— 75 to 1 taken). 
100 to 1 — Ministerial Programme. 

a Fob Places (Next Session Stakes). 
2 to 1 on Asquith for the Leadership. 
12 to 1 agst the Labouohere Peerage. 

New Pbemiebship Selling Stakes. 
12 to 1 on Gladstone Redivivus. 
200 to 1 agst any other. 


(J aques resumes.) 

—All the world's upon the stage, 
And here and there you really get a player : 
The exits rather than the entrances 
Are regulated by the County Council ; 
And one man in a season sees a lot — 
Seven plays a week, including matinSes, 
And several acts in each. And first the infant, 
A vernal blossom of the Garrick Caste, 
Playing the super in his bassinet, 
Ana innocently causing some chagrin 
To Mr. Eccles. Then there 's Archibald, 
New Boy, and nearly father to the man. 
With mourning on his face and kicks behind, 
Returning under strong connubial stress 
Unwillingly to school. And next the lover, 
Sighing like Alexabdeb for fresh fields, 
And plunging wof ally to win a kiss, 
Even to his very eyebrows. Then the soldier, 
Armed with strange maxims ancla carpet-bag, 
Cock-Shaw in military ironies, 
And blowing off the bubbling repartee [stajF, 
With chocolate infhis mouth. And next is Fal- 
In fair round belly with good bolsters lined, 
Full of wide sores, and badly cut about 
By Windsor hussies,— modern instances 
Of the revolting woman. Sixthly, Charley's 

Now ancient as the earth, and shifting still 
The Penley pantaloons for ladies' gear, 
Her fine heroic waist a world too wide 
For the slim corset, and her manly lips, 
Tuned to the treble of a maiden's pipe. 
Grasping a biff cigar. Last scene of all, 
The season' 8 close and mere oblivion ; 
Away to Europe and the provinces ;; 
And London left forlorn without them all, 
Sans- Gene, Santuzza, yea, sans everything. 




[July 21, 1894. 


Digitized hv 

Jult 21, 1894.J 




(And U BA8 been a good time coming. ) 

["The game of mixed chance and skill which the farmer plays each 
year with Nature is still undecided ; but, if the farmer wins, his win- 
nings will be large indeed."— The " Times " on Farming Prospect*.] 

British Farmer, hq. .— 

Bless my old bones !— they 're weary ones, wherefore I takes 

small shame—* 
For the first time for many a year mine looks a winning game ! 
A "bumper" harvest? Blissful thought I For long I've been 

fair stuck, 
But now 1 really hope I see a change in my bad luck. 
True, my opponent is a chap 'tis doosed hard to match. 
I seed a picture once of one a playing 'gainst Old Scratch, 
And oftentimes I feels like that, a-sticking all together, 
Against that demon-dicer whom we know as British Weather I 
What use of ploughs and patience, boys, or skill, and seed, and 

'Gainst frost, and rain, and blighted grain, and all that's foul 

and fickle? 
When the fly is on the turmuts, and the blight is on the barley, 
And meadows show like sodden swamps, a farmer do get 

But now the crops from hay to hops show promising of plenty, 
A-doubling last year's average, plus a extry ten or twenty. 
And straw is good, uncommon so, and barley, wheat ana oats, 

Make a rare show o'er whose rich glow the long-tried farmer 

gloats, Sir! 
Beans ain't so bad, spite o' May frosts ; turnips and swedes look 

topping ; 
Though the frost and fly the mangolds try, and the taters won't 

be whopping. 
Those poor unlucky taters ! If there 's any mischief going, 
They cop their share, and how they '11 fare this year there ain't 

no knowing ; 
And peas is good, and hops is bad, or baddiah. But, by jingo ! 
The sight o' the hay as 1 saw to-day is as good as a glass of 


Pastures and meadows promise prime, well nigh the country over, 
Though them as depend on their clover-crop will hardly be in olover. 
But take 'em all, the big and small, the cereals, roots, and grasses, 
There 's a lump o' cheer for the farmers' hearts, and the farmers' 

wives and lasses ; 
If only him I 'm playing against— well, pYaps I 'd best be civil. — 
If he isn't Jemmy Squarefoot though, he has the luck o' the divil. 
With Lis rain and storm andjsold and hot, and his host of inseot 

horrors, [to-morrers. 

He has the null, and our bright to-days may be spiled by black 
A cove like him with looks so grim, and flies, and suohphilistians, 
Is no fair foe for farmer chaps as is mortial men and Christians. 
Look at him damply glowering there with a eje like a hungry 

vulture ! 


Suggestion for a Rainy Day. Spillikins on a Grand Scale. 


By Our Own Wire. — Dispute broken out between local employer 
of labour— Shoemaker with two apprentices— and his hands. One 
apprentice won't work with t' other. Shoemaker looked out both. 

Later News.— Dispute developing. Amalgamated Association of 
Trade Unions sent fifty thousand men with rifles into town. Also 
park of artillery. Arbitration suggested. 

Special Telegram. — Federated Society of Masters occupying Market 
Place and principal streets with Gatling guns. Expresses itself 
willing to aooept Arbitration in principle. 

, A Bay After. — Conflicts to-day between opposing foroes. Streets 
With his blights at hand, and his floods to oommand, he 's the scourge resemble battle-field. Authorities announceT-" will shortly act with 

of Agriculture. [turning, 

But howBomever, although he's clever, lack's all, and mine seems 
Oh ! for a few more fair fine weeks, not swamped, nor yet too burning, 
When the sun shines sweet on the slanting wheat, with the bees 

through the clover humming. 
And us farmer chaps with a cheery heart will sing " There '« a good 

time coming! 19 

(According to the New School of Teachers. ) 

She believes in nothing but herself, and never accepts her own 
personality seriously. 

She has aspirations after the impossible, and is herself far from 
probable ; she regards her husband as an unnecessary evil, and her 
children as disturbances without compensating advantages. 

She writes more than she reads and seldom scribbles anything. 

She has no feelings, and yet has a yearning after the intense. 

She is the antithesis of her grandmother, and has made further 
development in generations to come quite impossible. 

She thinks without the thoughts of a male, and yet has lost the 
comprehension of a female. 

To sum up, she is hardly up to the standard of a man, and yet has 
sunk several fathoms below tne level of a woman. 

Mem. at Lord's during the Eton and Harrow, Friday, 
July 13. (It rained the better part, which became the worse part % 
of the day.)— Not much use trying to do anything with any " match " 
in the wet. 

vigour." Enrolled ten extra polioemen. Police, including extra ten, 
captured by rioters, and locked up in their own cells. Business — 
except of undertakers— at standstill. 

Latest Developments.— More oonfiiots, deaths, outrages, incen- 
diarism. Central Government telegraphs to Shoemaker to take back 
both apprentices to stop disastrous disorder. No reply. Shoemaker 
and both apprentices been killed in riots. 

Close of the Struggle.— Stock of gunpowder exhausted. Both 
tides inclined to accept compromise. Board of Conciliation formed. 
Survivors of employers and employed shake hands. Town irretriev- 
ably ruined, but peace firmly re-established. 

What I Already !— " I 'm afraid," said Mrs. R., " that the new 
Tower Bridge is in a bad way. I hear it said, of course I do not 
know with what truth, that it has ' bascules.' Now weren't they the 
insects that destroyed the crops one year and gave so many persons 
the influenza ? I think you '11 find I 'm right." 

Epigrammatic Description, by a Billiard Player, of the 
selection of the Chief Minstrel to be the Recipient of a 
Prize at the recent Eisteddfod.—" Spot Bard." 

Accidents in our rottenest Rotten Row.— The sooner the 
cause (i.e. Rotten Row itself) of the numerous complaints is weU 
grounded, the better fer the equestrians. 

National Reflection (suggested by recent Yacht-Race).— It 
is of small use Britannia being Britannia unless she be also Vigilant. 


[July 21, 1894. 


(A Story in Scenes.) 


Scene HI.— Opposite a Railway Bookstall at a London Terminus. 
Twe— Saturday, 4.25 p.m. 

Drysdale (to his friend, Galfbid Undebshell. whom he is 
" seeing off"). Twenty minutes to spare ; time enough to lay in any 
quantity of light literature. 

UndersheU (in a head voice). I fear the merely ephemeral does not 
appeal to me. But I should like to make a little experiment. (To 
the Bookstall Clerk.) A— do you happen to have a copy left of 
Clarion Blair's Andromeda / 

Clerk. Not in stock, Sir. Never 'eard of the book, but daresay 
I could get it for you. Here 's a Detective Story we 're sellin' like 
'ot. cakes— The Man with the Missing Toe — very cleverly written 
story, Sir. 

Und. I merely wished to know —that was all. (Turning with 
resigned disgust to Deysdale.) Just think of it, my dear fellow. At a 
bookstall like this one feels the pulse, 
as it were, of Contemporary Culture ; 
and here my Andromeda, which no 
less an authority than the Daily 
Chronicle hailed as the uprising of a 
new and splendid era in English Song- 
making, a Poetic Renascenoe, my poor 
Andromeda is trampled underfoot by 
— (choking)-— Men with Missing Toes ! 
What a satire on our so-called Progress ! 

Drys. That a purblind public should 
prefer a Shilling Shocker for railway 
reading when for a modest half -guinea 
they might obtain a numbered volume 
of Coming Poetry on hand-made paper ! 
It does seem incredible, — but they do. 
Well, if they can't read Andromeda 
on the journey j they can at least peruse 
a stinger on it in this week's Saturday. 
Seen it ? 

Und. No. I don't vex my soul by 
reading criticisms on my work. I am 
no Keats. They may howl— but they 
will not kill me. By the way, the 
Speaker had a most enthusiastic notioe 
last week. 

Drys. So you saw that then P But 
you 're right not to mind the others. 
When a fellow's contrived to hang 
on to the Chariot of Fame, he can't 
wonder if a few rude and envious 
beggars call out "Whip behind! " ehP 
You don't want to get in yet P Sup- 

>se we take a turn up to the end of 

e platform. [They do. 

James Spubbell. M.R.C.Y.S., enters 
with his friend, Thomas Tanbake, 
of Httbdell and Tans axe, Job and 
Aiding Masters, May fair. 

SpurreU. Yes, it 's lucky for me old 
Spavin being laid up like this— gives 
me a regular little outing, do you see P 
going down to a swell place like this 
Wyvern Court, and being put up there for a p day or two ! 
wonder if they do you very well in the housekeeper* s room. ( To Clerk.) 
Give me a Ptnk ' Un and last week's Dog Fancier's Guide. 

Clerk. We've returned the unsold oopies. Could give you this 
week's ; or there 's The Babbit and Poultry Breeder's Journal. 

Spurr. Oh, rabbits be blowed! (To Tanbake.) I wanted you to 
see that notice they put in of Andromeda and me, with my photo 
and all ; it said she was the best bull-bitch they 'd seen for many a 
day, and fully deserved her first prize. 

Tanrake. She's a rare good bitch, and no mistake. Bat what 
made you call her such an outlandish name P 

Spurr. Well, I was going to call her Sal / but a chap at the 
College thought the other would look more stylish if 1 ever meant to 
exhibit her. Andromeda was one of them Roman goddesses, you know. 

Tanr. Oh, I knew that right enough. Come and have a drink 
before you start— just for luck— not that you want that. 

Spurr. I 'm lucky enough in most things, Tom ; in everything 
except love. I tola you about that girl, you know— Emma— and 
my being as good as engaged to. her, and then, all of a sudden, she 
went off abroad and I've never seen or had a line from her since. 
Can't call that luck, you know. Well, I won't say no to a glass of 
something. [They disappear into the Refreshment Soom. 


" Here *b a detective story we 're sellin' like^ot cakes." 
I shouldn't 

The Countess of Cantebe enters with her daughter, Lady 
Maisie Mull. 
Lady Canttre (to Footman). Get a compartment for us, andltwo 
foot-warmers, and a second-class as near ours as you can for 
Phjxlipson ; then come back here. Stay, I 'd better give you 
Phxllipson's ticket. (The Footman disappears in the crowd.) Now 
we must get something to read on the journey. (To Clerk.) I want a 
book of some sort— no rubbish, mind; something serious and 
improving, and not a work of fiction. 

Clerk. Exactly so, Ma'am. Let me see. Ah, here 's Alone with 
the y Airy Ainoo. How would you like that t 
Lady Cant, (with decision). I should not like it at all. 
Clerk. I quite understand. Well, I can give you Three ' Undred 
Ways of Dressing the Cold Mutton— useful little book for a family, 
redoooea to one and ninepence. 

Lady Cant. Thank you. I think I will wait until I am reduced 
to one and ninepence. 

Clerk. Precisely. What do you say to Seven y Undred Side- 
splitters for Sixpence t 'Ighly yumorous, I assure you. 
Ij«dy Cant. Are these times to split our sides, with so many 
serious social problems pressing for 
solution? You are presumably not 
without intelligence ; do you never 
reflect upon the resiwnsibility you 
incur in assisting to circulate trivial 
and frivolous trash of this sort P 

Clerk (dubiously). WelL I can't 
say as I do, particular, Ma'am. I 'm 
paid to sell the books— I don't select 

Lady Cant. That is no excuse for 
you— you ought to exercise seme dis- 
crimination on your own account, 
instead of pressing people to buy what 
can do them no possible good. You 
can give me a Society Snippets. 

Lady Maisie. Mamma! A penny 
paper that says such rude things about 
the Royal Family I 

Lady Cant. It 's always instructive 
to know what these creatures are say- 
ing about one. my dear, and it 's asto- 
msning how tney manage to find out 
the things they do. Ah. here 's Gba- 
vener ooming back. He's $ot us a 
carriage, and we'd better get in. 
[She and her daughter enter a first- 
class compartment ; Undershell 
and Dbysdale return. 
Drys. (to Un dee shell). Well, I 
don't see now where the insolence 
oomesin. These people have invited 

you to stay with them 

Und. But why P Not because they 
appreciate my work — which they pro- 
bably only half understand— but out 
of mere idle curiosity to see what 
manner of strange beast a Poet may 
be ! And I don't know this Lady 
Culvebin— never met her in my life! 
What the deuce does she mean by 
sending me an invitation P Why 
should these smart women suppose 
that they are entitled to send for a 
Man of Genius, as"if he was their lackey ? Answer me that ! 

Drys. Perhaps the delusion is enoouraged by the fact that Genius 
occasionally condescends to answer the bell. 

Und. (reddening). Do you imagine I am going down to this place 
simply to please them f 

Drys. 1 should think it a doubtful kindness, in your present frame 
of mind ; and, as you are hardly going to please yourself, wouldn't 
it be more dignified, on the whole, not to go at all r 

Und. You never did understand me ! Sometimes I thiok I was 
born to be misunderstood ! But you might do me the justice to 
believe that I am not going- from merely snobbish motives. May 
I not feel that such a recognition as this is a tribute less to my ijoor 
self than to Literature, and that, as such, I have scarcely the right 
to decline it ? 
Drys. Ah, if you put it in that way, I am silenced^ of course. 
Und. Or what if I am going to show these Patricians that— Poet 
of the People as I am— they can neither patronise nor cajole meP 
Drys. Exactly, old chap— what if you are t 
Und. I don't say that I may not have another reason— *— a rather 
romantic one— but you would only sneer if I told you ! I know you 
think me a poor creature whose head has been turned by an un- 
deaerredgaoeeite. Digitized bvViOOg I ^ 

July 21, 1894.] 



r Drys. You 'rejiofrcing to try to piok a quarrel with an old chum, I 
are you P Come, you Know well enough I don't think anything of the I 
sort I 've always said you had the right stuff in you, ana would I 

just why it riles me to see you taking yourself so devilish seriously 
on the strength of a little volume of verse which has been "boomed" 
for all it's worth, and considerably more. Tou 've only got your 
immortality on a snort repairing lease at present, old boy ! 

Und. (wtth bitterness). I am fortunate in possessing such a candid 
friend. But I mustn't keep you here any longer. 

Dry*. Very well. I suppose you 're going first P Consider the 
feelings of the Cuxvbrin footman at the other end ! 

Una. (as he fingers a first-class ticket in his pocket). You have a 
very low view of human nature ! (Here he remarks a remarkably 
pretty face at a second-class window close by.) As it happens, I am 
travelling second. [Meaets in. 

Drys. [at the window). Well, good-bye, old chap. Good luck to 
you at Wyvern, and remember— wear your livery with as good a 
grace as possible. 

Und. 1 do not intend to wear any livery whatever. 
[The owner of the pretty face regards Undershell with interest. 

Spurr. (coming out of the Refreshment Boom). What, second? 
with all my exes, paid ? Not likely ! I 'm going to travel in style 
this journey. No— not a smoker; don't want to create a bad 
impression, you know. This will do for me. 

[He gets into a compartment occupied by Lady Cantire and her 

Tanr. (at the window). There — you're off now. Pleasant 
journey to you, old man. Hope you '11 enjoy yourself at this Wyvern 
Court you 're going to— and I say, don't forget to send me that notice 
of Andromeda when you get back ! 

[ The Countess am? Lady Majsie start slightly ; the tram moves 
out of the station. 


(By our own Nautical Special.) 

Dear Sib,— The captain went on board the gallant Naughty Lass 
with his Wind Lass. A Wind Lass is short for " Wiun'd Lass," i.e. 
a Lass he has won. I think her name is " Poll." The Captain says 
he is always true to her, and nothing will ever induoe him to leave 
his dear Wind Lass ashore when he 's afloat. Noble sentiment, but 
unpractical. The fact is (as whispered) the Wind Lass is jealous of the 
Naughty Lass, and won t let the Captain go alone. When the other 
Captain went on board the rival of the gallant Naughty Lass, the 
Anne Nemone, and " the crafty ones," as they call the sailors " in the 
know," were ready to bet any money on the Anne Nemone. Both 
cutters "out" (hence the name) well away from each other at the 
start, and a fresh breeze coming up (the stale one had been got rid of) 
there was a lot of fore-reaching, until the Captain, who is an old hand 
at this sort of thing, sent round steward with Drandy. * * All hands for 
grog ! " was then the order of the day, and we just managed to clear 
Muddle Point, leaving the home-marked (or " home-made," I forget 
which is the technical term, but I suppose the latter, as she was 
built on the neighbouring premises) boat well to windward. After a 
free reach in this weather down to Boot Shore— where the vessel 
heeled over a bit, but nothing to speak of, as it was soon remedied 
by a cobble that was close at hand— the Naughty Lass lifted her 
head-sails, and away we went for Incog Bay, where nobody knew 
us, or we should have been received with three times three. 

At this moment the Anne Nemone, racing dose to us, let out a 
right good " gybe," which was in execrable taste, I admit, bnt which 
ought not to have called for any retort from the captain's Wind 
Lass, who gave it her hot and strong, and threatened to haul her over 

the ooal-BOuttlers, ^ J A ^ — — ™ ~ " ~ 3 xl ~ — ~~~~ 

no time for op] 

nautical fashion, ._., , „ _ 

Sailors' language is a bit odd ; they don't mean anything, I know — 
it's only professional* still t as reporting the matter to ears polite, 
I scarcely like to set down in full all I heard. At 1 p.m. all nands 
were piped for luncheon, and we had spinnakers cooked in their skins 
(they are a sort of bean), with a rare nautical dish called "Booms 
and Bacon." Fine 1 I did enjoy it ! But then I'man old hand at 
this sort of thing,— luncheon on board, I mean ; for there 's scarcely 
a board, be it sea board or other board, or, in fact, any boarding 
establishment, that I don't know. But " yeo ho ! my boys ! ana 
avast ! " for are we not still racing ? We are ! ! 

We passed The Bottle at 2.30 p.m. What had become of the 
Anne Nemone I don't know, and probably we should never have 
seen hei again had not our captain, who was trying to sigrht the 
port after passing The Bottle, stood on the wronp tack, which ran 
into bis boot and hurt him awfully. He was earned below, and we 
gathered round him as he turned to the Naughty Lass and mur- 


'Arry (to'Arriet). "Oh, I sr! What Seeds them must be to 
grow a Lamp-post 1 " 

mured— but Polly objected that there was nothing to murmur about 
or to grumble at, and that the sooner he stumbled on deck the 
better it would be for the race. So up rose our brave captain, took a 
stiff draught of weather biljre (which is the best preventive of sea- 
sickness), and calling for his first mate, Mr. Jack Yakd Topsail, 
told him to "stand away." which I could quite understand, for Jack 
Yard Topsail is a regular salt, full of tar, rum, 'baccy, and every- 
thing that can make life sweet to him, but not to his immediate neigh- 
bours. So " stand away " and not " stand hy M it wmj, and when we 
got to Squeams Bay the sailors took a short hitch (it in necessary occa- 
sionally — but I cannot say more — lady-readers being present), and we 
went streaking away like a side of bacon on a fine day. 

"Are we winning?" asks Polly, the Wind Lass. " You look 
winning ! " I reply, politely. " By how much ? n she inquires, just 
tucking up her skirts, and showing a trim ankle. The Captain, with 
his glass to his eye, and looking down, answer*, " The fifth of a long 
leg I" I never saw a woman so angry ! 4 ' I haven't ! " she exclaimed ; 
and there would have been a row, and we should never have won, as 
we did splendidly, had not the " First Officer " (just as they name the 
supernumeraries in a play) come un and reminded Prett y P olly that 
she wasn't the only mate the Captain had on board. "Where 's the 
other P " she cried, in a fury. 4l Below ! " answered the First Officer, 
and down went Polly, not to re-appear again until all was over, and 
our victorious binnacle was waving proudly from the fore-top-gallant. 
At the finish we went clean into narbour, without a speck on our 
forecastle, or a stain on our character. I wire you the account of 
this great race, and am (Rule Britannia !) Yours, 

" Eveby Other Inch a Sailor! " 

P. 8.— I am informed that after I left the vessel— in fact it was 
next day— a Burgee was run up at the mast head. I suppose some 
sort of court-martial was held first, and that the Burjrec (poor 
wretch !) was caught red-handed. Still, in these days, this sort of 
proceeding does sound rather tyrannical. High-masted justice, ch ? 
Well, sea-dogs will be sea-dogs. I don't exactly know what a Burgee 
is, but I fancy he is something between a Buccaneer and a Bargee : 
a sort of river-and-sea pirate. But I fear it is a landsman ! ! 
Burgee, masculine (and probably husband) of Burgess ! ! If so, there 
wiuhe a row ! Yours as before the Mast. 



[Jolt 21, 1894. 



Madame la Baronne (who will speak English). "And tell me, Mistress Brown, tour clevarr 'Usband, who 'avr a so beau- 

Our Artist's Wife (who will speak French). ." Oh non, Madame, helas I Seulement, il est pendu cette Ankeb, vous savez 1" 
Madame la Baronne (relapsing into her native language). " Oh— Madams— quells affrsusb Nouvelle ! " 


Or, The Lawbreaker's Last Be/uge. 

Sure stranger irony life never saw 

Than Lawlessness low suppliant to the Law ! 

Guardian of Order soliloquiseth : — 

41 Down with Everything ! " Ah, yes ! 

That 's the sort o* rot you jaw ! 
You 'd be in a tidy mess 

If you 'd downed with rood old Law. 
Funniest job we have to do, 
Is to " save " such scamps as you. 

" Down with Everything ! " Spout on ! 

I, who stand for Law, stand by. 
You may want me ere you 've done. 

Sometnink in that workman* s eye, 
And the clenching of his fist, 
Ought to put you on the twist. 

Think you 're fetching of 'em fine 
With your tommy-rotten patter ? 

Think you 've got 'em in a line. 
Or as near as doesn't matter ? 

Won't you feel in a rare stew 

If they take to downing you t 

Downing is a sort o* game 
Two can play at fore— thanks be ! 

Spin your lead out ! Don't let shame, 
Common sense, or courtesy, 

Pat tbe gag on your red rag: 

Flourish it— like your Red Flag I 

How they waggle, flag and tongue I 
Proud o' that same bit of bunting ? 

See the glances on you fiung P 
Hear the British workman grunting P 

He is none too fond, that chap, 

Of rank rot and the Red Cap! 

Perched upon a noodle's nob, 
Minds me of an organ-monkey !— 

If a workman will not rob. 
You denounce him as a * 4 fiunkey." 

Some of 'em know what that means. 

Mind your eye I They '11 give you beans ! 

Ah ! I thought so. Gone too fur ! 

Set the British Workman booing. 
44 Dirty doq ! ! ! " That riles you, Sir ! 

Better mind what you are doing ! 
Mug goes saffron now, with fear. 
Round you glare ! Yes, Law is here ! 

Show your teeth, shark-like and yellow ! 

You won't frighten them, or me. 
Ah ! there comes the true mob-bellow ! 

That means mischief — as you see. 
Mob^when mettled, goes a squelcher 
For Thief, Anarchist or Welsher. 

41 Help ! Perlioe ! ! " Oh ! that 's your ory ! 

Vm your friend, theD, — at a pinch P 
Funk first taste of Anarchy P 

Law is better than— Judge Lynoh.P 
Rummv this ! For all his jaw 

The lawbreaker flies to Law ! 

Good as a sensation novel 
For to see you crouching there. 

Can't these Red Flag heroes grovel P 
Come, my Trojan, have a care. 

Do not clasp Law's legs that way, 

like Scum Goodman in the play. 

Help P Oh, yes : I'll help you— out !— 
"Stand back there, please! Pass along!" 

Come, get up ! Now don't you doubt 
If your " downing " dodge ain't wrong P 

Anyhow 'tis, you 'U agree, 

Lucky for you— you 've not downed me ! 


[The Jackson-Harm* worth Expedition has started.] 

Punch sleeps. The cheerful Sage has 

That Jackson is about to start 
His sympathies are warmly stirred, 

He hath the Windward? s weal at heait. 
He dreams : That block of dinner ice 

Stirs arctic fancies in his breast. 
He travels Pole- ward in a trice ; 

He joins the Jackson-Habmsworth 

quest. mmm 

• • • • • 

44 All precious things, discovered late 

To those that seek them issae forth."— 
To find her may be Jackson's fate. 

That Sleeping Beauty of the North ! 
She lieth in her icy cave 

As still as sleep, as white as death. 
Her look might stagger the most brave. 

And make the stoutest hold his breath. 

44 The bodies and the bones of those 

That strove in other days to pass," 
Are scattered o'er the spreading snows, 

Are bleached about that sea of glass. 
He gazes on the silent dead : 

44 They perished in their darinff deeds." 
The proverb flashes through his head, 

44 The many fail : the one succeeds." 

• • • • 

Punch wakes: lo! it is but a dream— 

A vision of the Frozen Sea ; 
Yet may be it may hold a gleam 

Of prophecy. So mote it be I 
To Jackson and to Harmsworth too 

He brims a well-earnt bumper. 44 Skoal!" 
Here 's health to them and their brave crew! 

And safe return from well- won goal ! 




Akabchist. "'ELP! 'ELP! PER-LICE ! ! " 


Digitized by 


July 21, 1894.] 




Poet. It's so good of you to see 
me. I merely wished to ask one or 
two questions as to your career. > You 
must have led a most interesting: life. 

Sphinx, You are very inquisitive 
and extremely indiscreet, and I have 
always carefully avoided being inter- 
viewed. However, go on. 

Poet. I believe you can read hiero- 

Sphinx. Oh yes ; I can, fluently. 
But I never do. I assure you they 
are not in the least amusing. 

Poet. No doubt you have talked 
with hippogriff 8 and basilisks f 

Sphinx (modestly). I certainly was 
in rather a smart set at one time. As 
they say, I have "known better days." 

Poet. Did you ever have any con- 
versation with Thoth ? 

Sphinx (loftily). Oh, dear no! 
(Mimicking.) Thoth he wath not con- 
tMdered quite a nice perthon. I would 
not allow nim to be introduced to me. 

Poet. You were very particular ? 

Sphinx. One has to be carefuL 
The world is so censorious. 

Poet. I wonder, would you give 
me the pleasure of singing to me? 
"Adrian's Gilded Barge," for 

Sphinx. You must really excuse 
me. I am not in good Voice. By the 
way, the "Gilded Barge," as you 
call it, was merely a shabby sort of 
pant. It would nave had no effect 
whatever at the Henley Regatta, 

Poet. Dear me! Is it true you 
played golf among the Pyramids ? 

Sphinx (emphatically). Perfectly 
untrue. You see what absurd reports 
get about !. *» 

Poet (softly). They do. What was 
that story about the Tynan ? 

Sphinx. Merely gossip. There was 
nothing in it, I assure you. 

Poet. And Apis? 

Sphinx. Oh, he sent me some 
flowers, and there were paragraphs 
about it — in hieroglyphs — in the 
society papers. That was all. But 
they were contradicted. 

Poet. You knew Ammon very 
well, I believe ? 

Sphinx (frankly). Ammo* and I 
were great pals. I used to see a 
good deal of him. He came in to tea 
very often- he was quite interesting. 
But I have not seen him for a long 
time. He had one fault— he would 
smoke in the drawing-room. And 
though I hope I am not too conven- 
tional, I really could not allow that. 

Poet. How pleased they would all 
be to see you again ! Why do yon 
not go over to Egypt for the winter ? 

Sphinx. The hotels at Cairo are so 
dreadfully expensive. 

Poet. Is it true you went tunny- 
fishing with Antony ? 

Sphinx. One must draw the line 
somewhere! Cleopatra was so cross. 
She was horribly jealous, and not 
nearly so handsome as you might sup- 
pose, though she was photographed 
as a " type of Egyptian Beauty I " 

Poet. I must thank you very much 
for the courteous way in wnioh you 
have replied to my questions. And 
now will you forgive me if I make 
an observation ? In my opinion you 
are not a Sphinx at all. 

Sphinx (indignantly). What am I, 
then ? Poet. A Minx. 


I used to think that if a man 

In any character could score a 
Distinctly leonine success, 

'Twould be as a returned explorer. 

So, when by sixteen tigers tree'd. 
Or when mad elephants were charging, 

I joyed to say—" On this, some day, 
My countrymen will be enlarging." 

And when mosquitoes buzzed and bit 
(For 'tis their pleasing nature to), 

Or fevers floored me, stall this dream 
Helped me to suffer and to da 

I have returned ! Whole dusky tribes [is !— 
I ' ve wiped right out — suoh labour sweet 

And with innumerable chiefs 
Arranged unconscionable treaties. 

What 's the result ? I have become 

A butt for each humanitarian, 
Who call my exploits in the chase 

The work of a " confessed barbarian." 

And, worst of all, my rival, Jones, 
Who 'd any trick that 's low and mean dare, 

Cries—' • Equatorial iungles ! Pish ! 
I don't believe he s ever been there ! " 

jo now I just " explore " Heme Bay, 
With trippers, niggers, nurses, babies : 

I 've tried for fame. I 've gained it, too : 
I share it with the vanished Jabjez ! 

Nor* anb Query. — At Aldershot the 
Queen expressed herself much pleased wirh 
the *' tattoo" all round. " Ignobaxus " 
writes to inquire " if • tattoo-ing ' is done in 
Indian ink or with gunpowder ? " 


(New FachHcal Version.) 

H.R.H. the P s of W 8 sings .— 

When Vigilant, at Gould's command, 

Came over here to sweep the main, 
This was the lay that thrilled the land, 
And Yankee Doodle loved the strain- 
Lick Britannia! the fleet Britannia lick! 
And Johnny Bull may out his stick. 

But Vigilant, less fast than thee, 

Must in her turn before thee fall, 
Britannia, who hast kept the sea, 
The dread and envy of them all. 
Win, Britannia! Britannia rules the 

waves I 
(Though by the narrowest of shaves.) 

Six races in succession show 

The Yankee yacht has met her match ; 
Though she was hailed, not long ago, 
The swiftest clipper of the batch. 
Rule, Britannia! Britannia rule the 

waves ! 
The most appropriate of staves ! 

I'm sorry poor Dunbaven's crack 

So prematurely has gone down ; 
But mine has kept the winning tack, 

And well upheld the isle's renown. 
Rule, Britannia ! &o. 

When Jonathan thy match hath found, 

J9e 'U to our coasts again repair. 
We^ll have another friendly round. 
With manly hearts and all things fair. 
Rule, Britannia ! Britannia rules the 

Six sequent wins Bull's honour saves ! 


Fbom the Orchestra as I was staring 

So wearily down at the hall, 
The programme I held hardly caring 

To turn, I was tired of it all! 
For I knew 'twas a futile endeavour 

With music my trouble to drown, 
And I 'd made up my mind that you never, 

Ah, never, would come back to town! 

When suddenly, there I beheld you 

Yourself— ah, the joyous amaze ! 
I wonder what instinct impelled you 

Your dreamy dark eyes to upraise, 
That for one happy second's communing 

Met mine that nad waited so long— 
And the wail of the violins tuning 

It turned to a jubilant song ! 

'Mid organ-chords sombre and mellow 

There breaks out a ripple of glee, 
And the voice of the violoncello, 

Althea, is pleading for me ! 
The music is beating and surging 

With joy no adagio can drown, 
In ecstasy all things are merging — 

Because you have come back to town ! 

The Cobban Difficulty. — "Japan de- 
clines to withdraw." — (Telegram, Thursday, 
July 12).— "Ah," observed Miss Quoteb. 
who is ever ready, "that reminds me of 
Byeon's line in mazeppa, quite applicable to 
the present situation— 

1 Again he urges on his mild Corca.' " 

New Wobk (by the Chief Druid Hftnstrelat 
the JBistedd/od, dedicated to their Boyal High- 
nesses).— ir How to be Harpy in Wales." 




[July 21, 1894. 









July 21, 1894.] 





House of Lords, Monday. July 9.— Playfaib's leonine coun- 
tenance habitually cheerful. But never saw him looking so pleased 
as when we walked through St Stephen's Chapel on way to Lords just 
now. " From point of view of old House of Commons man the Lords 
are, I admit, a little unresponsive," my Lord said. " The chamber is, 
acoustically and otherwise, the sepulchre of speech. You remember 

the little lecture on 
margarine I delivered 
years ago in the Com- 
mons? Bless me, how 
delighted the House 
was to see the table 
covered with small 
white pots containing' 
samples, with a bottle 
of best Dorset marga- 
rine hooked on to the 
Mace for greater con- 
venience of reference. 
Often I've enchained 
an audience with my 
object lessons. Up to 
present time that mo- 
nologue on margarine 
ranks as most suc- 
cessful. But I '11 beat 
the record to-night. 
See that P" (Here he 
slapped a something 
bulging out from his 
trouser pocket.) 
" Guess what that is Y 
Thought you couldn't. 
It 's oultoh. Enow 

"Not unless it's 
the beginning of know- 
ledge, I said, draw- 
ing a bow, so to speak, 
at a venture. *' Posi- 
tive oultch, compara- 
tive culture, ehf" 

Playfaib stared at 
me vacantly. "Cultch 

Bugged SUtu^theTacaat Niche. iu the ~ ^at^ri^e 

No. I.-« The Mejeety of the Law , » Sft^ftfit- 

House not in condition particularly inspiring for lecturer. 
Benches mostly empty ; Stanley of Alderley completed depletion by 
rambling speech of half an hour's duration, modestly described in 
Orders as * a question." Wanted to know how many lighthouses in 
England and Wales paid Income Tax ; how many were behindhand 
with their rates ; were Death Duties applicable to some of them ; if 
so, which ; and whether the tenants compounded for rates or other- 
wise. These inquiries not without interest, but Stanley not chiefly 
remarkable for concentration of thought or conciseness of phrase. 

At length Playfalb's turn came. A flutter of interest amongst 
Peers as he was observed tugging at something in trousers pocket ; 
hauled out what looked like empty oyster shell. 

"Ah!" said Hebschell, smiling, "I see the lawyers have been 
before us." 

" In moving the Second Reading of the Sea Fisheries (Shell Fish) 
Bill, I propose, if I may be permitted, to give your Lordships 
an object lesson. This particular shell " Playfalb continued, 
holding it up between finger and thumb, " is covered all over with 
^jrojoopio oysters. Oysters in all stages of growth are seen there." 
Well," said the Mabquis op Cababas, " if one had a twenty 

billion '■*-'— '- " " •' ' ..-.-- 


don't ___ _,__ „ „„ ___„__„ __ 

husiness to firing these things down'here, filling House with smell 
of stale seaweed when his oysters are no bigger than a pin's head." 

The Mabquis strode angrily forth. Others followed. Lecture cut 

Business done.— Sea Fisheries (Shell Fish) Bill read a second time, 
Moid unexpectedly depressing circumstances. 

Bouse of Commons, Tuesday.— Squibb of Malwood back after 
a JJJf ■ nusheation. Brings glowing news of the hay crop ; looks, 
uitteed, as if he had been helping to make it ; ruddier than a 
onerry; indescribable but unmistakable country air about him as 

he sit 8 on Treasury Bench with folded arms, listening to the mo- 
notonous ripple of talk renewed on Budget Bill. 

" Rusticus expectat dum defluat anmis," 
says Prince Abthub, looking across at the rustic Squire. 

"At ills 
Labitur et labetur in omne volubilis tevum," 

added Joktm, with approving glance at bench behind, where the 
Busy B.'s swarm after week's rest, humming round amendments 
with increased vigour. 

Almost imperceptible movement of river goes forward. The 
blameless Babtley on his feet, entrancing House with particulars of 
a silver cup, prized heirloom in the humble household in Victoria 
Street, It seems that one of Babtlby's ancestors— he who came over 
with the Conqueror— had brought with him certain blades of buck- 
wheat, which he industriously planted out on the site, then a meadow, 
on which the Army and Navy Stores now flourish. The buckwheat 
grew apace. One day Sing Stephen, passing by on a palfrey, noted 
tne waving green expanse. Enquiring to whom the State was 
indebted for this fair prospect, a courtier informed him that it was 
•' the anoestor of Geobge Chbistopheb Tbout Babtley, Member 
for North Islington in the thirteenth Parliament of Queen Victobia." 

" By our sooth," said the Sing, " he shall have a silver cup." 

One was forthwith requisitioned from the nearest silversmith's, 
and this it is which now adorns the sideboard in the best parlour at 
St. Margaret* 8 House, Victoria Street, S.W. 

These interesting reminiscences of family history Geobge Chris- 
topher Tbout recited to a charmed House in support of proposed 
new Clause, moved by Dick Websteb, exempting from estate duty 
heirlooms under settlement. Squire of Malwood, usually imper- 
vious to argument in favour of alterations in his prized Budget, 
evidently moved. If Babtley had only thought of bringing the cup 
with him, had at this moment produced it from under his cloak, and 
flashed it forth on gaze of House, the Clause would have been added, 
and the oup, Estate-duty free, would have passed on through the ares, 
telling its simple story to successive strata of the Babtley family. 
As it was, Squibb stood firm, and Webstbb' s Clause negatived. 

" Couldn't do it, my dear Websteb," the Squtbe found opportunity 
of saying, as he met disappointed legislator behind Speakeb's 
Chair. * Of course I said tne polite thing about Babtlby's Cup. 
But I wasn't thinking of that. I know very well what you had in 

An Interesting Specimen, 

The Coleridge Caterpillar ! 

mind in bringing in this Clause. The heirlooms you thought of are 
those cups and medals you won for Cambridge when, twenty-nine 
years ago, you met the Oxford Champion in the two-mile race, and 
in the one-mile spin. If we could do something in the Schedules 
specially exempting them I should be glad. Think it over, and see 
me later." 

Websteb wrung the Squibe's hand, and passed on, saying nothing, 
There are moments when speech is superfluous. 'Tis true, the* 
don't often occur in House of Commons ; but here was one. Let 
cherish its memory. 




[July 21, 1894. 

Business done. — Considering- and nega- 
tiving new Glauses to Budget BilL 

Thursday. — All the cheerfulness of to-day 
has brightened Committee-room, where ques- 
tion of issue of Writ, following on appli- 
cation for Chiltern Hundreds t is considered. 
The Squibb under examination for nearly 
two hours and a-half . Difficult to say which 
the more enjoyed it, the witness or the Com- 

" What is the state of a Peer pending issue 
of Writ of Summons P" asked the Squibb, 
suddenly taking to interrogate the Com- 
mittee assembled to question nim. " Is he a 
caterpillar passing through a larva, spinning 
a cocoon of silk until he reaches a condition 
where they toil not neither do they spin P " 

iHere, quite by accident, his glance fell upon 
08BPH, supposed to be sitting upon him in 
judicial capacity.) " There is, he continued 
(and here he f lanced at Prince Abthub. 
smiling at the sly hit dealt at his dear friend 
Job) "an opening for philosophic doubt as 
to the precise oondition of this impounded 
Peer in his intermediary state." 

The House still going about with millstone 
of Budget Bill round its neck, Byrne, 
Butcher, Beach, Bowles and Babtley 
tugging at it, Kenton-Slanbt now and then 
uttering obvious truths with air of super- 
natural wisdom. Gbanb Young Gabdnbb 
(address Board of Agriculture, Whitehall 
Race, S. W.) hands me scrap of paper ; says 
he found it near Squire's seat on Treasury 
Bench ; but it doesn't look like his writing : 

" Two modes there are, Byrne and Butcher, 

Our gratitude to earn : 
If Byrne would only burn up Butcher, 

Or Butcher butcher Byrne ; 
Or both combine — yes, bless their souls — 
To burn and butcher Tommy Bowles ! " 

Business done.— Tory little. 

Friday.— Temple going about much as if 
on Tuesday night he nadgot out of his cab 
in the ordinary fashion. He didn't, you 
know. Taken out in sections through the 
upper window by couple of stalwart police- 
men. This owing to circumstance that Irish 
cab - driver having, after fashion of his 
country, saved a trot for the avenue, dashed 
up against kerbstone and overturned cab. 

44 Gave me a start, of course," Temple 
said, as we brushed nim down. "Not a 
convenient way of getting out of your 
hansom. What I was afraid of was being 
disfigured. Am not a vain man. but don't 
mind telling you, Toby, a scratch or a scar 
on one's face would have been exceedingly 
annoying. But I'm all right, as you see. 
Hone it isn't a portent. A small thing that 
under this Government I should be over- 
turned. What I fear is, that unless we 
keep our eye on them they'll overturn the 

Business done.— "Sot yet done with Budget 

Fashionable Infobmation and Sugges- 
tion.— The Duke and Dnchess of Bedfobd 
having returned from Thorney will go to 
Beds;— a delightful change, that is unless 
they are rose-beds, which are proverbially 
thorny. And 4t the Duchess of Koxbubghe 
goes to Floors." # No Beds here ; only Floors. 
Why not combine the two establishments 
and get them both under one roof ? 



LuciUlus Brown (on hospitable purpose intent). " Abe you Dining anywhrbb to -mob row 
night ? " 

Jones (not liking to absolutely "give himself away"). "Let mb see" — (considers) — "No; 
I *m not Dining anywhere tomorrow." 

Lucullus Brown (seeing through the artifice). " Um 1 Poor chap ! How Hungry you 

will be!" [" Exeunt,— severally." 

44 Nihil tetigit quod non ornavit" as the 
prizefighter said of his right fist, after black- 
ing his opponent's eye ana breaking the bridge 
of his nose. 

44 The Knights of Labour" seem to be 
banded together against ** Days of Work." 


[The Prince of Wales was initiated as a Bard the 
other day at the Carnarvon Eisteddfod.] 

The Minstrel-Prince to his Wales has gone, 
In the ranks of the Bards you 'U find him ; 

His bardic cloak he has girded on. 
And his tame harp slung behind him. 

41 Land of Song ! " said the Royal Bard, 
44 You remarkably rum-spelt land, you, 

One Prinoe at least shall try very hard 

To pronounce you, and understand you." 

The Prince tried hard, but the songs he heard 

Very soon brought his proud soul under, 
With twenty oonsonants packed in a word, 

And no vowels to keep them asunder ! 
So he said to the Druid, 44 A word with you, 

Your jaw must be hard as nails, Sir ; 
Your songs may do for the bold Cymru, 

They've done for the Prinoe of Wales, 


(To Mr. and Mrs. J. M. BarrU on their 
Marriage, July 9, 1894.) 

44 When authors venture on a play, 

They have been known to find them un- 
But Mr. Babbie found the way 

To great success in Walker, London. 
A ready Toole he 'd olose at hand, 

And those who know her merry glanoe '11 
Not find it hard to understand 

How much was due to Maby Ansell. 

Her aoting in the House-boat Scene 

Led Mr. Babbie to discover 
He 'd lost his heart (althongh he 'd been 

Of Lady Nicotine a lover). 
And those who felt sweet Nanny's charm, 

Or who in Thrums delight to tarry, 
Long happy life, quite free from harm, 

Will wish this new-formed firm of Babbie. 

July 28, 1894.] 




By G ##t GE 
Volume I. 

Thm was a school. Small wonder if the boys, doubly sensitive 
under a supercilious head-master of laughter-moving invention, 
poised for a moment on the to and fro of a needless knockabout jig- 
face with chin and mouth all a-pucker for 
the inquisitive contest. The stout are 
candid puff-balls blowing in an open sea 
of purposeless panting, hard to stir into 
an elephantine surging from arm-chairs ; 
and these are for frock-coats, and they 
can wear watch-chains. So these boys 
understood it. Murat here, Murat there, 
Murat everywhere, with Shaldebs 
a-burst at the small end of a trumpet, 
cheeks rounded to the full note of an 
usher's eulogy, like a roar and no mis- 
take, arduous in the moment, throbbing 
beneath a schoolmaster's threadbare waist- 
coat, a heart all dandelions to the piucker, 
yellow on top with white shifts for feather- 
xririge ; or a daisy, transferring petulance 
on a bath-chair wheezing and groaning— 
on the swing for the capture of a fare— or 
shall it be a fair, that too a wheeze per- 
niitted to propriety hoist on a flaxy, 
grinning chub. This was Shalders. 

Lady Charlotte Eglett appeared. 
Hers was the brother, the Lord Obmont 
we know, a general of cavalry not a 
doubt, all sabretache, spurs and plumes, 
dashing away into a Hindoo desert like 
the soldier he is, a born man sword in fist. 
8he wrote, " Come to me. He is said to 
be married." 

He spoke to her. "My father was a 

" He too P " she interposed. 

Their eyes clashed. 

'• You are the tutor for me," she added. 

" For your grandson/' oorrected he. 

It was a bargain. They struck it. She glanced right and left, 
showing the town-bred tutor her hedges at the canter along the 
main road of her scheme. 

M*R*D # TH. 

His admiration of the cavalry-brother rose to a fever-point. Not 
good with the pen, Lady Charlotte opined ; hard to beat at a 
sword-thrust, thought Matey. "Be his pen-holder," put in the 
lady. "I would," said he, smiling again. She split sides, con- 
vulsed in a take-offish murmur y a roll 
here, a roll there, rib-tickling with eyes 
goggling on the forefront of a sentenoe 
all rags, tags, and splutters like a jerry- 
builder gaping at a waste land pegged out 
in plots, foundations on the dig, and auc- 
tioneer prowling hither thither, hammer 
ready for the " gone " which shall spin a 
nobody's land into a somebody's money 
passing over counter or otherwise pocket to 
pocket, full to empty or almost empty, with 
a mowling choke-spark of a batter-foot all 
quills for the bean-feast. So they under- 
stood it. 

Matey then was Lord Ormoht's secre- 
tary. A sad dog his Lordship ; all the 
women on bended knees to his glory. Who 
shall own him? What cares he so it be a 
petticoat P For women go the helter-skelter 
pace ; head-first they plunge or kick like 
barking cuokoos. You can tether them with 
a dab for Sir Francis Jeuwe. He will 
charge a jury to the right-about of a 
crapulous fallow- ball, stiff as Rhadaman- 
thus eyeing the tremblers. But Matey 
had met this one before. Memories came 
pouring. He gazed. Was she, in truth. 
Lord Ormoitt's? The thought spanked 
him in the face. A wife? Possibly. And 
with an aunt— Auutta's aunt. She has a 
nose like a trout skimming a river for 
flies, then rises a minute and you not 
there, always too late with rod and line 
for siort. But there was danger to 
these two, and Lord Ormont was writing his Memoirs. A mad 
splashing of unnecessary ink on the foolscap made for his head, 
never more to wear the plumed cooked hat in a dash of thunder- 
bearing squadrons. 

End of Vol. I. 



(Complied by a Pessimist.) 

Question. Will the Naval Manoeuvres of 
1894 have anv novel features ? 

Answer. Only in the imagination of the 
special correspondents. 

Q. Will there be the customary coloured 

A. Yes, with the usual commanders, 
officers and men. 

Q. Will the lesson that a fleet haviBg speed 
equal to a pursuing fleet, if given a start, will 
escape, be taught to all concerned ? 

A. Yes, to the great admiration of the 
authorities at Somerset House and Whitehall. 

Q. Will it be demonstrated that if a town 
on the coast is left undefended, a hostile iron- 
clad will be able to bombard it at pleasure ? 

A. Yes, to the satisfaction of every scientist 
in the United Kingdom. 

Q. Will it also be made clear to the 
meanest comprehension that if the night is 
sufficiently dark, and search-lights insuffi- 
cient, a fleet will get out of a harbour in spite 
of considerable opposition ? 
• A. Yes, to the great appreciation of the 
world at large, and the British public in par- 

Q. Will there be the customary secrecy 
about self-evident facts and trivial details ? 

A. Yes, to the annoyance of the news- 
paper correspondents, and the indignation of 
editors thirsting for eopy. 

Q. And, lastly, how may the Naval Man- 
oeuvres be appropriately defined ? 

A. As the means of obtaining the minimu m 
of information at the maximum of expense. 

vol. cvn. 


It is my base biographer 

I 've haunted all day long. 
He's writing out my character, 

And every word is wrong. 

With the wrong vices I 'm indued, 

And the wrong virtues too ; 
My motives he has misconstrued 

As only he could do. 

I read the oopy sheet by sheet' 

As it issues from his pen, 
And this, this travesty complete 

Will be my doom from men ! 

I 've wrestled hard with psychio force — 

It is in vain, in vain ! 
His nerves were ever tough and coarse, 

Impervious his brain. 

Ah, could a merely psychio spell 

Ignite an earthly match 1 
Or could a hand impalpable 

Material " copy" snatch ! 

I 'm as incompetent as mist 

The enemy to rack. 
Ah, if a spiritual fist 

An earthly eye could black ! 

A paper-weight it lies below, 

It cannot be dispersed ! 
The publisher will never know 

Who read that oopy first 1 

His gliding pen, for all my hate, 

Has never gone awry ; 
"All rights reserved," they'll calmly 

O'er me. And here am I ! 


(By a Transatlantic Cousin, according to English 

That I shall get puppar to take me and 
mother down in real style. 

That we will wake up sleepy old Europe, 
and show these insolent insulars that we are 
above small potatos. 

That I shall out out the Britisher Misses, 
and make their mummars sit up. 

That I shall take care that luncheon is not 
neglected, and see that all my party, like the 
omnibuses, are full inside. 

That I shall think very small of the races, 
so long as I get my boxes of gloves. 

That I shall do credit to the best society of 
Boston and the seminaries of New York by 
speaking through my nose a mixture of slang 
and nonsense. 

That I shall call his Grace of Canterbury 
•• Archbishop," and any owner of strawberry 
leaves 4 * Duke." 

That I shall wear a gown trimmed with 
diamonds, and have my parasols made of net 
and precious stones. That I shall conceal the 
fact that puppar made his money out of the 
sale of wooden nutmegs and mother's aunt 
was a laundress. 

That I shall flirt with a Dnke at the Races, 
marry him at St. George's, and give up for 
ever the stars and stripes. 

P.S. (by a Transatlantic Cousin, according 
to American ideas). — I shall continue to won- 
der at an English girl's notions of her kins- 
women when there are so many charming 
specimens of refined Columbian gentlewomen 
resettled in the old home of the Anglo-Saxon 



[Jult 28, 1894. 

Jult 28, 1894.] 




JScenk — Hounds on drag of Otter 'which has turned upjmaU tributary stream. 

Miss Di {six feet in her stockings, to deeply -enamoured Curate, five feet three in his, whom she has inveigled out Otter-hunting). ''On, do 
just Pick me up and Carry me across. It 's rather Deep, don't you know 1" [The Bev. Spooner's sensations are somewhat mixed. 


(Modern Parliamentary Version.) 

[Replying to questions concerning the delay in 
filling up the post of Poet Laureate, Sir W. Har- 
coubt said, "This is a delicate question, and, 
amidst conflicting claims, I must shelter myself 
in the decency of the learned language, and I 
would reply, * 2W« nascitur, turn Jit.* .... My 
hon. friend must remember what happened to the 
shepherd Paris when he had to award the apple, 
ana the misfortunes which befel him and his part- 
ners — epretaque injuria forma"] 

Vnpoeitcal Statesman sings : — 

I *M Paris the Shepherd, pro tern., 

And here are the three pseudo-goddesses ! — 
Different, truly, from them 

Who appeared, without veils, skirts, or 
Unto (Enone'8 false swain. 

Well, I 've no (Enone to wig me ; 
But — at the first glance it 's so plain, 

Paris can't give the fruit to— a pigmy. 

Her£P Ah! this must be she ! 

A classico-Cambrian Juno ! 
Propriety's pink all must see : 

But what other claims has she ? Few know ! 
Doll decency's all very fine ; 

She has a fine smack of the chapel ; 
But, dash it, I still must decline 

To give Goddess Grundy the apple ! 

I 'm sure she 's domestic and chaste, 

A virtuous, worthy old body ; 
Bat— that's scarce a goddess's waist, 

Her tone, too, is— well, Eisteddfoddy. 

I fear, if I gave the award 
To this orcellentest of old ladies, 

Apollo might send me— 'twere hard ! — 
To read one of her Epics— in Hades ! 

Then Pallas! Well, Pallas looks proud, 

And I have no doubt might deserve a 
Big crown from a true Primrose crowd : 

But— she runs rather small for Minerva ! 
Men might mistake her for her owl. 

"Her rhymes," say swell Tories, "are 
But still, thouffh the Standard may scowl, 

I can't award Pallas the pippin ! 

And then Aphrodite ! Oh my ! 

In that dress she must feel rather freezy. 
There 's confidence, though, in her eye, 

She is taking it quite Japanesy. 
That musumS smile 's quite a fetch. 

And yet— I acknowledge— between us— 
(They 'fi call me a oold-blooded wretch) 

I can't stand a Japanese Venus ! 

And so " the Hesperian fruit " 

I must really reserve— for the present. 
Tes. Here will call me a brute, 

And Pallas say things most unpleasant, 
Aphrodite— won't she jrive me beans ! 

They all want the pippin— you bet it ! 
To grab it each ** goddess " quite means, 

And oh ! don't they wish they may get it ? 

11 The New Woman" (according to the 
type suggested by the * Revolt of the Daugh- 
ters ') should be known as "The Revolting 


awful sentence that we read, 
news that really seems to stun, 
For Messrs. Mudie have decreed, 
And also Messrs. Smith and Son, 
Henceforth consistently to shun 
The trilogies we value so, 
And that, for thus the tidings run, 
Three- volume novels are to go ! 

Reflect to what it soon must lead, 
This rash reform which you 've begun ; 
How can the novelist succeed 
In packing tragedy and fun 
Within the space of Volume One ? 
Already his returns are low, 
Soon he '11 be utterly undone — 
Three- volume novels are to go ! 

And then for us, who humbly plead 
For long romances deftly spun, 
Will not these stern barbarians heed 
Our concentrated malison f 
Alas, your literary Hun 
Nor sorrow nor remorse can know ; 
He cries in anger, " Simpleton. 
Three- volume novels are to go ! " 

Prince, writers' rights- forgive the pun— 
And readers' too, forbid the blow ; 
Of triple pleasure there '11 be none, 
Three-volume novels are to go ! 

Mbs. R. says she " quite understands ihe 
truth of the ancient proverb which says that 
1 the man who has a family has given sau- 
ages to fortune.' " 

sages 1 

)rtime giti7edbyV^OOglg 



[July 28, 1894. 


(A Story in Semes.) 
Scene IV.— A First- Class Compartment. 
Spurreli (to himself). Formidable old party opposite me in the 
furs! Nioe-looking girl over in the oorner; not a patch on my 
Emma, though ! Wonder why I eatoh 'em sampling me over their 
papers whenever I look up ! Can't be anything wrong with my turn 
out. Why, of course, they heard Tom talk about my eoing down 
to Wyvern Court ; think I'ma visitor there and no end of a nob ! 
Well, what snobs some people are, to be sure ! 

Lady Cantire (to herself). So this is the young poet I made 
Axbdtia ask to meet me. I can't be mistaken, I distinctly heard his 
friend mention Andromeda. H'm, well, it's a comfort to find 

Lady Cant, {with a dignified little shiver). With a temperature as 
glacial as it is in here ! Surely not ! 

Spurr. Well, it is chilly ; been raw all day. (To himself.) She 
don t answer. I haven* t broken the ice. 

[He produces a memorandum book. 

Lady Maisie (to herself). He hasn't said anything very 

yet. So nice of him not to pose ! Oh, he 's got a note-book ; ne 's 
going to compose a poem. How interesting ! 

Spurr. [to himself). Yes, I 'm all right if Voluptuary wins the 
Lincolnshire Handicap ; lucky to get on at the price I cud. When 
will the weights come out for the City and Suburban P Let's see 
whether the Fink 'Un has anything about it. 

[He refers to the" Sporting Times." 

Lady Maisie (to herself). The inspiration's stopped — what a pity ! 
How odd of him to read the Globe ! I thought he was a Democrat ! 

Lady Cant. Maisif, there's qnite a clever little notice in Society 

" He 't going to compose a 

he 's clean ! Have I read his poetry or not P I know I had the 
book, because I distinctly remember telling Maisie she wasn't to read 
it— but— well, that's of no consequence. He looks clever and quite 
resectable— not in the least picturesque— which is fortunate. I was 
bc<ginning to doubt whether it was quite prudent to bring Maisie ; 
but I needn't have worried myself. 

Lady Maisie (to herself). Here, actually in the same carriage ! 

Does he guess who I am P Somehow Well, he certainly is 

different from what I expected. I thought he would thow more 
signs of having thought and suffered ; for he must have suffered to 
write as he does. If Mamma knew I had read his poems ; that I had 
actually written to beg him not to refuse Aunt Albinia's invitation ! 
He never wrote back. Of course I didn't put my address ; but still, 
he could have found out from the Red Book if he 'd cared. I 'm 
rather glad now he didn't care. 

Spurr. (to himself). Old girl seems as if she meant to be sociable ; 
better give her an opening. (Aloud.) Hem ! would you like the 
window down an inch or two ? 

Lady Cant. Not on my account, thank you. 

Spurr. (to himself). Broke the ice, anyway. (Aloud.) Oh, /don't 
want it down, but some people are fond of fresh air. 

poem. How interesting ! " 

Snippets about the dance at Sktmpings last week. I'm sure I 
wonder how they pick up these things ; it quite bears out what I 
was told; says the supper arrangements were " simply disgraceful ; 
no plovers' eggs, and not nearly enough champagne ; and what 
there was, unarinkable ! " So like poor dear Lady Chesepajle; 
never does do things like anybody else. I 'm sure I've given her 
hints enough ! 

Spurr. (to himself with a suppressed grin). Wants to let me see 
she Knows some swells. Now ain't that paltry? 

Lady Cant, (tendering the paper). Would you like to see it, 
Maisie? Just this bit here ; where my linger is. 

Lady Maisie (to her self \ flushing). I saw him smile. What must 
he think of us, with his splendid scorn for rank P (Aloud.) No, 
thank you, Mamma ; such a wretched light to read by ! 

Spurr. (to himself). Chance f or me to cut in ! (Aloud.) Beastly 
light, isn't it ? 'Pon my word, the company ought to provide us 
with a dog and string apiece when we get out ! 

Lady Cant, (bringing a pair of long-handled glasses to bear upon 
him). I happen to hold shares in this line. May I ask teAyyou 
consider a provision of dogs and string at all the stations a necessary 
or desirable expenditure ? 

Digitizod by V jUUv LfcT 

July 28, 1894.] 



Spurr. Oh— er— well, you know t I only meant, bring on blindness 
ana that. Harmless attempt at a joke, that 's all. 

Lady Cant. I see. I scarcely expected that you would oondesoend 
to such weakness. I — ah— think you are going down to stay at 
Wyvern for a few days, are you not P 

Spurr (to himself). I was right. What Tom said did fetch the 
old girl ; no harm in humouring her a bit. (Aloud.) Yes— oh yes, 
they— aw— wanted me to run down when I could. 

Lady Cant. I heard they were expecting you. You will find 
Wyvern a pleasant house — for a short visit. 

Spurr (to himself). She heard ! Oh, she wants to kid me she 
knows the Culverins. Bats! (Aloud.) Shall I, though P I daresay. 

Lady Cant. Lady Culverin is a very sweet woman; a little 
limited, perhaps, not intellectual, or quite what one would call the 
grande dame ; but perhaps that could scarcely be expected. 

Spurr. (vaguely). Oh, of course not— no. (To himself.) If she 
bluffs, so can I ! (Aloud.) It 's funny your turning out to be an 
acquaintance of Lady C.'s, though. 

Lady Cant. You think so P But I should hardly call myself an 

Spurr. (to himself). Old cat's trying to back out of it now ; she 
shan't % though ! (Aloud.) Oh, thon I suppose you know Sir Rupert 
best ? 

Lady Cant. Yes, I certainly know Sir Rupert better. 

Spurr. (to hitnself). Oh, you do, do you ? We '11 see. (Aloud.) 
Nice cheery old chap, Sir Rupert, isn't hep I must tell him I 
travelled down in the same carriage with a particular friend of his. 
( To himself.) That '11 make her sit up ! 

Lady Cant. Oh. then you and my brother Rupert have met already P 

Spurr. (aghast). Your brother! Sir Rupert Culverin your ! 

Excuse me— if I 'd only known, I— I do assure you I never should 
have dreamt of saying ! 

Lady Cant, (aractously). You've said nothing whatever to dis- 
tress yourself about. You couldn't possibly be expected to know 
who I was. Perhaps I had better tell you at once that I am Lady 
Canterb, and this is my daughter x Lady Maisie Mull. (Spurrell 
return s Lady Maisie' s little bow m the deepest confusion.) We are 
poing down to Wyvern too, so I hope we shall very soon become 
Better acquainted. 

Spurr. (to himself overwhelmed). The deuce we shall! I have 
got myself into a hole this time ; I wish I could see my way well out 
of it ! Why on earth couldn't I hold my confounded tongue P I 
shall look an ass when I tell 'em. 

[He sits staring at them in silent embarrassment. 

Scene V. — A Second- Class Compartment. 

Under shell (to himself). Singularly attractive face this girl has ; 
so piquant and so refined ! I can't help fancying she is studying me 
under her eyelashes. She has remarkably bright eyes. Can she 
be interested in me P does she expect me to talk to her P There are 
only slie and I— but no, just now I would rather be alone with my 
thoughts. This Maisie Mull whom I shall meet so soon; what 
is she like, I wonder P I presume she is unmarried. If I may judge 
from her artless little letter, she is young and enthusiastic, and she 
is a passionate admirer of my verse ; she is longing to meet me. I 
suppose some men's vanity would be nattered by a tribute like that. 
I think I must have none ; for it leaves me strangely cold. I did not 
even reply ; it struck me that it would be difficult to do so with- any 
dignity, and she didn't tell me where to write to. . . . After all, 
how do I know that this will not end— like everything else— in dis- 
illusion P Will not such crude girlish adoration pall upon me in 
time P If she were exceptionally lovely : or say, even as charming 
as this fair fellow-passenger of mine — why then, to be sure— but no, 
something warns me that that is not to be. I shall find her plain, 
sandy, freckled ; she will render me ridiculous by her undiscriminat- 
ing gush. . . . Yes, I feel my heart sink more and more at the 
prospect of this visit. Ah me ! [He sighs heavily. 

His Fellow Passenger (to herself). It 's too silly to be sitting here 

like a pair of images, considering that (Aloud.) I hope you 

aren't feeling unwell ? 

Und. Thank you, no. not unwell. I was merely thinking. 

His Fellow P. You don't seem very cheerful over it, I must say. 
I 've no wish to be inquisitive, but perhaps you 're feeling a little 
lowspirited about the place you 're going to ? 

Und. I — I must confess I am rather dreading the prospect. How 
wonderful that you should have guessed it ! 

His Fellow P. Oh, I've been through it myself. I'm just the 
same when I go down to a new place ; feel a sort of sinking, you 
know, as if the people were sure to be disagreeable, and I should never 
get on with them. 

Und. Exactly my own sensations! If I could only be sure of 
finding one kindred spirit, one soul who would help and understand 
me. But I daren't let myself hope even for that ! 

His Fellow P. Well. I wouldnH judge beforehand. The chances 
are there '11 be somebody you can take to. 

Und. (to himself). What sympathy! What bright, cheerful 


"Can tou let me have a Bullet-proof Coat for icy little 
Dog f My next-door Neighbour has threatened to Shoot him 
for Barking ! " 

common sense ! (Aloud.) Do you know, you encourage me more 
than you can possibly imagine ! 

His Fellow P. (retreating). Oh, if you are going to take my re- 
marks like that, I shall be afraid to go on talking to you ! 

Und. (tcith pathos). Don't — donH be afraid to talk to me! If you 
only knew the oomf ort you give ! I have found life very sad, very 
solitary. And true sjinpathy is so rare, so refreshing. I— I fear 
such an appeal from a stranger may seem a little startling ; it is 
true that nitherto we have only exchanged a very few sentences ; 
and yet already I feel that we have something— much— in common. 
You can't be so cruel as to let all intimacy cease here— it is quite 
tantalising enough that it must end so soon. A very few more 
minutes, and this brief episode will be only a memory ; I shall have 
left the little green oasis far behind me, and be facing the dreary 
desert once more— alone ! 

His Fellow P. (laughing). Well, of all the uncomplimentary 
things ! As it happens, though, " the little green oasis " — as you 're 
kind enough to call me — won't be left behind: not if it's aware of 
it ! I think I heard your friend mention Wyvern Court ! Well, 
that's where J'm going. 

Und. (excitedly). You— you are going to Wyvern Court ! Why, 
then, you must be [He checks himself. 

His FeUow P. What were you going to say ; what must I be f 

Und. (to himself). There is no doubt about it ; bright, independ- 
ent girl ; gloves a trifle worn ; travels second-class for economy ; 
it must be Miss Mull herself ; her letter mentioned Lady Culverin 
as her aunt. A poor relation, probably. She doesn't suspect that 

I am I wout reveal myself j ust yet ; better let it dawn upon her 

gradually. (Aloud.) Why, I was only about to say, why then you 
must be going to the same house as I am. How extremely fortunate 
a ooinoidencer 

His Fellow P. We shall see. (To herself) What a funny little 
man ; such a flowery way of talking for a footman. Oh, but I forgot ; 
he said he wasn't going to wear livery. Well, he would look a 
sight in it ! 

Where to send a Young Horse to be well Broken in for 
Riding.— Evidently to the '* Hackney Training Schools." 



[July 28, 1894. 


^ „■%. **•-> 






r?^ r ju 

u - 







-Wf^'-'-Tr •■■■ ■?*' P'jxja /:>.: ; v ••■;:■! v*^-*-": <^v'j <>*£&+ </,:$£ 



>VS» ... 



4 'Yes. It 's hall very well fob 'br Ladyship to go about in a Thing like this I 
End. Hi bam! " 

She hain't known in the West 


["It is impracticable to proceed in the present 
Session with some of the great measures to which 
the Government is pledged, such, for example, as 
that relating to the Church in Wales, the Regis- 
tration Bill, and the Local Veto BilL"— Sir WWxam 

LUtle Local Veto % loquitur .— 


Oh, exactly ! Just what I expected ! 

after such volumes of talk I 
My prospects you told me were brilliant, and 

nere it all end*— in a baulk ! 
0, won't I just work up Sir Wilfrid, and 

won't I just wake Mister Cains P 
But there, yon can't trust anybody, these 

times, that 's exceedingly plain. 
And you too, my own bringer-up, to turn me 

out of house and of home ! 
Oho, yon unnatural parent ! And where shall 

we wanderers roam — 
Poor Taffy, and young (Registration) Bill— 

look at him limping !— and Me ? 
And the other ones tucked up inside, and 

especially that impudent Three, 
The Irish, the Sootoh, and the London boys, 

whom you so favour and pet, 
Are laughing at us from the window. But, 

drat them, their turn may come yet. 
They may have to turn out, after all I Billy 

Budget of oourse is all right, 
For you fought for your favourite che-ild, 

and, by Jingo, it has been a fight ! 
But what have I done to be rounded on? 

Gall yourself boss of the place P 
Why, the Babtleys, and Bowleses, and 

Boltons and Byrnes simply laugh in 

your face 1 
What use to be landlord at all if you can't 

choose your tenants P Oh my ! 
That odious Bung— one more Bl— has the 

laugh of me still! I oould cry- 

But I wonH. I will kick ! I 'm not 

meek, like those other two poor little 

Look, how limp and dejected they $o, though 

against their poor dear little wills I 
But I am not going to be put upon. I '11 

make it awkward all round. 
You won't treat me so any more ; you won't 

•* chuck " me again, I'll be bound. 
And what Compensation have I, for Disturb- 
ance P Eh I what 's that you say P 
"All right ? " — " Reinstatement — next 

year? "— " Pass away, my .dears, please, 

peas away P " — 
Ah! it's all very fine to look pleasant and 

promise fair things— at the door ; 
But that 's regular constable blarney, old boy, 

and vou f ve done it before ! 
Meanwhile we 're Evicted, worse luck ! like 

the poor Irish Tenants whose case 
Those busy B's muster to fight over. Ah ! 


you put on a bold face. 
But we ain't the only Pill Garlics I No ; 

of 'em still left inside 
Will yet join us, out in the cold, as will 

p'raps be a pill to their pride ! 

[Exit with other Bills. 

The Colonel and the Quiveb.— Our own 
Colonel Saundebson. M.P., was never better 
at his best than when, in the debate last 
Thursday night, he said, " If the Bill passes, 
a quiver of norror will run through every 
tenant, &c, &o." Of course the gallant 
Colonel meant "arrow" or "dart/' not 
"quiver." A dart or an arrow will run 
through a person, piercing him in front, and 
reappearing at back. But " quiver " doesn't 
do this sort of thing:. An arrow so transfix- 
ing a body may make it quiver— but this is 
another matter. More power to the quivering 
elbow of the gallant Colonel ! 


When lovely woman stoops to folly, 
You 'U find, according to Dumas, 
One certain cure for melancholy : — 

French law, that damns you in the lettei, 

In spirit change tout cela ; 
They always manage matters better 

These are the lines to play the man on ; 

Take her defenceless, cry " Hold ! " 
And trotting out the nimble cannon, 

Or take for choice the common cartridge ; 

Pop goes le pHit fusil, comme ca ! 

You bag her neatly like a partridge 


" VHomme-Femme "may haunt the bosom 
La France goes trolling " fa ira ! " 
And waives the question with a skittish 

No mutual recriminations, 

No oounterplea, et cetera ; 
One solves too simply these equations 

So runs the play. We saw you foot it 

Featly therein, la belle Sara ! 
You were all there, or, so to put it, 
Toute Id. 

And now you go, and, ifyou'U let us, 

Reluctantly we say " Ta-ta ! " 
Come back again, and don't forget us 

The New Motto {by our won Irishman). 

Off — England expects every man this day to pay 
his own Death Duty, iy VjQOg £C 

Tg fcrj 

8 3 P 




Digitized by 


Digitized by 


July 28, 1894.] 



_n~ *^ 


Scene — Crossing in Rotten Row during the height of the Season. Two Policemen stopping Riders, Little Girl, wheeling p' ram., with 

Baby inside, about to cross. 
Mary Hanne. " Lor', it 's jus' as if wk woe the Quken !" 


I.— Thk Garden op Sloth. 

T the Court of the Earl, by the meet- 
ing of ways, 
Man planted a garden, a garden that 

Days j 
In the thick of the crowd, where they 

tread on your corn, 
It is there that a singular plant has 

been born. 
Hot days of desire and cool nights of 

They are mine when its bud keeps 

ref using: to bust 
0, Whe el of my weal ! I am waiting 
j*PVSL forlorn, 

I am waiting, I say, with a crush on 

my corn. 

In the " Garden of London " where night-lights are spread, 
I watch Living Pictures, as old as the dead ; 
While a Tow-er Gigantic stands gruesome and glum, 
By the shadow of Shows that are certain to come. 
Will they shoot as /shoot on sixpenny slides ? 
Will they want as /want rotatory rides ? 
O, plant of a plant ! I would barter my skin 
For the chance of Ixion his regular spin ! 

By Our Schoolboy. 

Q. (a) Explain tho allusion " Uuorum Pars." (£) Give reference. 

■£• 'Quorum " is a bench of magistrates who must be all Fathers 
of Families, or Pa's. Hence the expression (which is a kind of Latin 
pin) "Quorum Pars." (0) The references are numerous, and all 
highly respectable. 


Ax advertisement appears in a recent number of the Athen&um, 
headed M Devon Volunteer Commemoration." in which '* Drawings 
are invited for a memorial of the fact that the Volunteer Movement 
of 1852 originated in Devonshire." According to the regulations, 
11 Drawings must be accompanied by tenders for carrying out the 
work." Moreover, '' the total cost, including all charges for design- 
ing, carrying out, superintending, and erecting the work, and sur- 
rounding the same with a suitable iron railing, must not exceed 
£200." Now this is really a very fair sum, and to assist one of our 
readers to win the prize, we allot the money in appropriate items. 
Of course we can only give a rough estimate, but it should be near 
enough to suit its purpose. 

Cost of the Devon Volunteer Commemoration Memorial. 
Design (being a sovereign more than the sum 

offered for a second prize) 6 

Stone 10 

Engraving inscription 30 

Gilding the names of the Committee, &c, engaged 

in the work . 50 

Designer's charge for carrying out, superintending 

ana erecting work 4 

Balance (to be used for surrounding memorial 
" with a suitable iron railing") . . . 100 

And now, having shown how the thing may be done, we hope that 
the best man may win. It is pleasant to find Art so greatly 
appreciated in Devonshire — a county which apparently is as rich and 
as generous as its own cream ! 

Post Prandial.— If the geraniums and roses in my Louisa's 
garden could speak, what celebrated dinner-giver would they name ? 
-Loot cull usl Digitized by IjOOgU f 




[Jolt 28, 1894. 


( From the Heart of Midlothian, ) 

[" I must here add, in explicit terms, the few decisive words to which, after all that has happened, I feel a natural reluctance to give utterance. It ia 
»t my intention, at the age I have now reached, to ask re-election (for Midlothian) when the present Parliament shall be dissolved,"— Mr. Gladttmi* 


Farewell Letter to Midlothian.'] 

Farewell to McGladstone, great Chief 

Midlothian remembers when first setting 

The Chieftain she's mourning hisoourse 

here began. 
Launching forth on wild billows his bark 

like a man. 
And stirring all hearts with his eloquent 

voioe. — 
Farewell to McGladstone, the Chief of 

our ohoioe ! 

swift was his galley, and hardy his 

crew, [true. 

Her Captain was skilful, her mariners 
In danger undaunted, unwearied by toil, 
Though the storms might arise, and the 

billows might boil, 
In the wind and the warfare he seemed 

to rejoice. — 
Farewell to McGladstone, the Chief of 

our choice 1 

Blow bland on his parting, thou sweet 

southland gale ! 
Like the sighs of his sailors breathe soft 

on his sail ; 
Be prolonged as regret that his vassals 

must know l 
Be fair as their faith, and sincere as 

their woe : [of voice, 

Be so soft, and so fair, and so friendly 
Wafting homeward McGladstone, the 

Chief of our ohoioe ! 

He was pilot experienced, and trusty, 

and wise, 
To measure the seas, and to study the 

He would hoist all her canvas on Vic- 
tory's tack, 

AlR— " Farewell to Mackenzie." 

Kind Heaven crowd it fuller when waf U 

ing him back 
To his home in far Hawarden, where 

hearts will rejoioe 
To welcome McGladstone, the Chief of 

our ohoioe. 

Midlothian no more ! 'Tis a sorrowful 

And we gaze on the waves, and we 

glance at the sky ; 
We shall long, when clouds darken and 

wild wares overwhelm, 
For his voice through the gale, for his 

hand on the helm. 
Now we shout through the shadows, with 

tears in our voice : 
Farewell to McGladstone, great Chief 

of our ohoioe ! 

Midlothian no more ! Faith, we fancy 

we hear [knew fear, 

The cry of the Chieftain who never 
Stout still through its sadness, " Keep 

up the good fight ! 
Let Midlothian, let Scotland, still stand 

for the Right!" 
The last burden brave of the valorous voioe 
Of dauntless McGladstone, great Chief 

of our ohoioe ! 

Midlothian no more ! In despite, Chief, 

ofall, , a 

The Heart of Midlothian responds to 

your calL 
Its echoes shall live, though no longer 

your form [storm. 

Shall steer us to sunshine, or cheer us in 
Then farewell to the presence, but not 

to the voioe 
Of " Auld Wullie" Gladstone, great 

Chief of our choice ! 


Oh, didn't the grand old Copperation have a grand treat last week 
at Winser ! Her grashus Majesty the Queen asked 'em all down to her 
Dutiful Pallace to hear the soflem Recorder read to her their joyful 
feelings at the birth of her dear little Great Grand Son ! And then, 
to the great joy of all on 'em, Her Majesty read such a delishus 
arnser as amost brort tears to the eyes of some of the young uns of 
the Party, and sent 'em away to the Dutiful Lunahon Room to refresh 
exhorsted natur with a delicate Lunch, and sum exkisit Madeary, such 
as King George the fourth is said to have saved xpressly for 
aimmilar glorius ocasions. 

Don't let it be supposed as I wants people to beleeve as I was 
there ; but I had the hole account given by one as was, and I ain't 
ixagerated it not a bit. 

There is a sextain Body of gents in London as ewidently wonts to 

eiy fust fiddel in the government of our grand old City, but I 
vent heard of their being asked down to Winser Carsel to con- 
gratulate her Most Grayshus Maobsty on the late appy ewent. 
Should they be so I should most suttenly make a pint of seeing 'em 
all start, if it were only out of curiosity to see what sort of State 
Mazerine Gownds they would all wear ! 

I had allmost forgot to menshun that the two Sherryffs, and the 
Chairman of the big Tower Bridge, was all benighted, and came out 
of the presents Chamber smiling like ancient Cherubs. I am told as 
how as the Copperation was so werry much delited with their royal 
wisit to royal Winser, that they has been and passed a werry eimiler 
wote of thanks to the Dook ana Dutchess of Tore, and arsked them 
to receeve 'em jest the same as the Queen did, but they is both werry 
sorry to say, that their Pallis not being near so big as Her Majesty's, 
they hopes as only a small Deppytation of Aldermen and C. C.'s will 

Oh won't there be jest a rush for places, as every one on 'em is 
naterally anxious to show his loyelty on so hinteresting an ocaaion, 
tho of course they oamt expec to have heverything exaoly the same 
as they had at Royel Winser. Robert. 


Tuesday, July 17.— "The opera season will terminate July 30^ 
To-night Verdi's opera of A'ida, " with the dotlets on the i." First 
appearance of Madame Adini, a spacious prima donna who amply 
fills the part. Gtulia Ravogli an excellent Amneris. Opera 
apparently not particularly attractive, or more powerful attractions 

Saturday, 21.— Paaliacci followed by new opera entitled The 
Lady of Longford, though it would have been more polite had the 
PagRacci allowed the Lady to precede them. But Pagliaoci will be 
Pagliaoci. The Lady's Librettists are Sir Druriolanus Poeticus 
and Mr. F. E. Weatherly. The music is by Emu, Bach. The 
Gentlemen of Longford are represented by Messrs. Alvarez and 
Edouard de Rkszke, while the Lady, the big lady, is Emma Eamks 
— " quite the lady "—and the little lady is Evelyn Hughes. This 
new Lady turns out to be our old friend the one-act drama by 
Tom Taylor entitled A Sheep in Wolfs Clothing, set to music, the 
comic characters beinr omitted, and the end made tragic instead of 
happy. The music does not entitle Bach to take a front seat. 
Emma Eames excellent; Fanny Hughes funny; Alvarez good; 
Jean de Rkszke first-rate all-round-head Colonel, but more like a 
Cathedral than a Kirk. Composer and Librettists complimented; 
Mancinelli conducted ; house full. General satisfaction. 

Hard Case of "Evicted Tenants" in Drury 

Lane.— At a 
j of Pro- 

general assembly of the Theatre Royal Drury Lane Company of Pro- 
prietors last Wednesday. Mr. Chttty is reported to have observed tbat 
r * after putting £300,000 into the building without receiving a farthing 
rn, they were now to have their money confiscated by the lav, 


in return, ^^ „*»„-„„ „,— .~ _~ * _______ 

but in such circumstances as one would not have o x P eote iF OD j.5 
nobleman in the Duke of Bedford's position." Ahem! Why* d 
not Sir Druriolantjs arise and. remembering the Barber of Seville, 
sing " Chttty, Chttty, piano! piano!" But naturally the Drury 
Laneites must feel a bit hurt. 
D i g i t i zed by VjOOvil — 

Jult 28, 1894.] 




A Meeting has recently 
taken place at Grosvenor 
House to establish a National 
Trust, the idea being to pre- 
serre plaoes of historic in- 
terest and natural beauty. 
Announoed at the meeting 
that already a beautiful cliff 
had been promised by a lady. 
We understand the following 
promises have also been re- 

The Duke of W-stm-n- 
st-r. — A very handsome 
ground-rent. Intended to 
support and sustain beauti- 
ful cliffs. &c. 

The Duke of D-v-nsh-re. 
— Ch-tsw-rth, which, owing 
to recent legislation, he can 
no longer afford to keep up. 
Intends to take a small cot- 
tage, it is believed, at some 
inexpensive town on the 
East Coast. Several Dis- 
tressed Dukes have also pro- 
mised, on their death, to 
leave their estates to the 

A Lover of Ozone. — A 
particularly bracing breeze. 
To be dedicated to the public 
for ever. 

The London County Coun- 
cil.— The 8haf tesbury Foun- 
tain. The L. C. C., we 
understand, welcomes the 
prospect of handing over to 
the Trust the responsibility 
attaching to this insoluble 

A Hertfordshire Gentle- 
man. — A thoroughly reliable 
right of way. 

Mr. Th-tn-8 B-ch-m.— 
A unique collection of sign- 
boards in situ. These are 
placed in the midst of the 
most lovely natural scenery, 
and in themselves will very 
soon, it is hoped, be of his- 
toric interest. 

Sir Fr-d-r-ck P-U-ck will 
arrange in every case to 
supply a good title. 

Mr. Punch heartily com- 
mends so patriotic a scheme 
to his readers. Any beauti- 
ful cliffs, ground-rents, rights 
of way, &c, sent to him at 
85, Fleet Street will imme- 
diately be forwarded to the 
proper quarter. N.B.— It is 
just possible an exception to 
this rule might be made in 
the case of ground-rents. 


(An Art-Recipe.) 

^«!P «r ncTv*,A f — Vnumi falsa- 

Take a lot of black triangles, 

Some amorphous blobs of red ; 
Just a sprinkle of queer spangles, 

An ill-drawn Medusa head ; 
Some red locks in Gorgon tangles, 

And a scarlet sunshade, spread : 
Take a "portiere" quaint and spotty, 

Take a turn-up nose or two ; 
The loose lips of one ** gone dotty," 

A cheese-cutter chin, askew: 
Pose like that of front-row " Tottie," 

Hat as worn by " Coster Loo " ; 
Take an hour-glass waist, in section, 

Shoulders hunched up camel-wise ; 

Give a look of introspection 

(Or a squint) to two black eyes ; 
Or a glance of quaint dejection, 

Or a glare of wild surprise ; 
Slab and slop them all together 
With a background of sheer 
sludge j 
(Like a slum in foggy weather], 
And this blend of scrawl 

Vend as ART— in highest feather !— 
Dupes in praise will blare and blether. 
Honest Burchelle will cry — 
41 FUDGE!!!" 


A Demi-French Octave. 

( Picked up in a Dressing-room.) 

Mr razor, you 're a true 
That is, you bore me badly ! 
You 're blunt, you gash— de 
tout tnon cceur 
I bless you wildly, madly ! 
Vraiment, c % est vous qu' fat 
en horreur 
Each morn on rising sadly ; 
Were 't not that shaving 's 
In turn I 'd out you gladly ! 

Ik View op Holidays. 
A Hint. — Of course if you're 
on pedestrian tours bent—if 
you're a bicyclist you'll be 
still more bent— you cannot 
do better than, as a pedes- 
trian, get Walker's Maps. 
If you are going to sail, 
or by steam, you are again 

referred to " Walker. 

London." There is a ffood 
idea in these Maps which 
might be still furtner deve- 
loped, and that is not only to 
show the route and the 
manner of making your 
journey, but by arrange- 
ment with the principal 
Steam -boat and Railway 
Companies some sort of 
" itinerary " mijrht be added 
to the Map, with informa- 
tion as to the " means 
whereby," which to the 
toiler m search of a brief 
holiday "by rail, by river, 
or by sea," and perhaps by 
all three, would be most 
useful were it available as 
an almost " instantaneous 
process " of reference. 


Pelt or drizzly, 
Weather— Btsley! 

Financial Problem (the 
effect of reading the Budget 
Debates).— Why is the In- 
oome-Tax so sharply felt ? 
Because, disguise it as you 
may, it 's a case of tin- 

London Knioht by 
Knight. — The Solicitor- 
General Knighted last Wed- 
nesday at Windsor. Will 
Bob (the only name by which 
his many friends know him) 
henceforth be known as " the 
Queen's Shilling"? 


How sweet this road is, fringed by hedge- 
row elm, 
Where peeps in May the hawthorn's 
snowy bud, 
A fairy place that seems TUania's realm ! 
By Jove, what mud ! 

How sweet this turf, as soft as finest 
Such u gazon anglais" we alone can 
Oh hang it, no ! I cannot walk across, 
It '8 soaking wet ! 

How sweet that lake, where gentle eddies 
But all around seems lake, through 
rainfall dim. 
Why want a pond, when on dry (!) land 

We almost swim ? 

How sweet — to get a Hansom home 
And leave this aguish, rheumatic damp ! 
I do not love thee, Itanelagh, in rain, 
Beneath a gamp. 

" Edward, Albert, Christian, George, 

Andrew. Patrick, David, 
Drink life's pleasures with free gorge ! 

From its pains be sav&L ! " 
So said Punch at the White Lodge, 

His old optics glistening. 
Sure such names ill-luck should dodge ; 

Sure such names no babe e 'er bore, 

Patron Saints ! You 've all the four 
To bless the Royal Christening ! 

A Company that ought to "Float, 
" The Cork Company." 




[July 28, 1894. 



House of Commons, Monday, July 16.— The Blameless B. is 
translated into the Breathless Babtley. Of eleven pages of Amend- 
ments to Budget Bill standing for consideration when House met 
to-day, not less than three contributed by this particular B. 
Embodied readjusted scale of graduated taxation. Only objections 
to it presently stated by Sqoibe of Malwood : (1) It would 
necessitate total reconstruction of Bill (2) resulting in loss of 
£643,000 ; (3) whole question had been thoroughly threshed out in 
Committee. To raise it again at eleventh hour seemed too much to 
ask even in connection with Budget Bill. 

Nevertheless Babtley, not yet breathless, moved his multi- 
tudinous Amendment. Kesumed his seat with consciousness of man 
who had done his duty. The Squire would get up to answer him ; 
debate would follow; at least two hours would be pleasantly 
occupied. Instead of Squibb. Attobney-Genebal rose. " Well," 
said Blameless, throwing himself into attitude of attention, 
" let 's hear what he has to say." 

Turned out to be exceedingly little. " Government scale has been 
attacked and defended many times," said Attobney-Genebal. " I 
do not think it necessary to defend it again -but," here he leaned 
on the table with engaging look at the now Breathless Babtley, 
" the hon. gentleman can take a division if he thinks fit." 

Babtley sat and audibly gasped. Jokim gal- 
lantly protested against this treatment of his hon. 
friend; threatened to move adjournment of debate. 
Peince Ajelthub sent for ; arrived almost as breath- 
less as Babtley ; thunder boomed, lightning 
flashed round head of Attobney-Genebal, who is 
always finding himself astonished. " The hon. 
and learned gentleman," said Pbujce Abthub. 
with delightful assumption of anger, " has abused 
the situation. The Opposition have no means of 
compelling him to talk sense, but talk he must." 

Squibe of Malwood, who had fled before pros- 
pect of long speech from Babtley, hastily brought 
back. Don't know where incident would have 
ended had it not been for Kenyon-Slaney. Find- 
ing opening he slipped in. Threw himself into 
easy oratorical attitude ; proposed to consider prin- 
ciple of graduation adopted m BilL Would do so 
under three heads : injustice to the poor, injustice 
to the middle-class, injustice to the rich. 

This too much even for Opposition. With 
groans of despair they rushed into Division Lobby; 
Bartley's scheme negatived by majority of 62. 

Business done, — Budget Bill passed Report 

TVednesday.—&i. John Bbodbick sitting on 
front Opposition Bench through Committee of 
8upply on Army Estimates this afternoon, in- 
vested neighbourhood with unwonted air of fashion. 
Not that there is. as a rule, any lack of style on 
part of Leaders ox Opposition regarded as a body. Only something, 
je ne sais quoi, about Bbodbick that suggested profoundest depths 
of Poole. Couldn't help complimenting him on his turn out. 

" Evidently you spare no expense," 1 said ; " though why even a 
millionaire should wear an. overcoat a day like this seems wicked 
waste of property. Hope you are not growing desperate in anticipa- 
tion of Death Duties ; spending your money recklessly so that Hab- 
coubt may be disappointed when, for taxing purposes, he oomes to 
aggregate your property P " 

My dear boy," said Bbodbick, giving the overcoat a dexterous 
lift by the lappels that added fresh grace to its fit at the back of the 
neck, "you're out of it altogether. This is the thirteen-and- six- 
penny coat supplied to Tommy Atkins in which, — following the 
advice of Dr. Johnson, wasn't it P— I, as I told the House the other 
day, took a walk down Bond Street. The surtout underneath, which 
I will fully display when the House gets a little fuller, cost seventeen- 
and-six net. You will observe it is so made that you pan 
button it across and so save a waistcoat. If you must have a waist- 
coat, we can do it at eight-and-ninepenee. As for trousers, these 
cost me thirteen shillings." (Here he stretched out and fondly 
regarded a manly leg.) ** If I had taken a couple of pair, cut at the 
same time you know, I could have had the two for 25j. I see your 
eyes fixed on the boots. As you say, the shape of the foot may nave 
something to do with it. But apart from that, the article is equal to 
what you pay thirty-five shillings for in Regent Street or Piccadilly. 

ver House in Committee on Army Supply or debate going for- 
n Army matters. It encourages Cawmell - Bannebman, 

you know; helps Woodall in getting his clothing vote; and, I 
believe, is rather liked by Tommy Atkins." 

Business done. — Squibe of Malwood announces programme for 
remainder of Session. A mere nothing. Only, as'PBiNCE Abthub 
says, in view of number of Bills and their contentious character, more 
like what we are accustomed to at beginning of Session, than to have 
dumped down in what should be its last month. 

Thursday.—" Joseph," said the Member for Sabk, dropping into 
one of his tiresome didactic moods, " would do well in any circum- 
stances. Whether in Upper Egypt or Lower, he was sure to come to 
the top of the well, however securely his brethren might have packed 
him in its lowest depths. But, regarding him just now as he criti- 
cised the Squire's arrangements for the Session, I could not help 
thinking what a loss the auction-room has only partially survived 
by his turn into the field of politics. If in early life, or even 
middle age, he had only taken to the rostrum, the shade of the much 
over-rated Robins would have been dimmed in glory. Observe how 
well he looks the part. See with what unconscious effect he produces 
a stumpy piece of lead pencil, and looks round for bids. Listen to 
the clear sharp notes of nis voice. * What shall we say, gentlemen, 
for the Equalisation of Rates Bill ? How many days will you give 
for it ? Name your own time, gentlemen. There is no reserve. Shall 
we say six days P Does the tall, somewhat stout gentleman with a 
white waistcoat, on the Treasury Bench, shake his head ? Very well, 
we will say four days. Going at four days;' and the pencil, 
scratching out six, substitutes four. This may seem very easy 
when it 's done : but it 's art, Toby, even genius. 
If you think it's easy for a man discussing State 
business, suddenly but completely to invest the 
high court of Parliament with the tone and atmo- 
sphere of an auction-room, just reckon up how 
many other men of first rank in public life could 
do it. Not to $o further afield, could Pbince 
Abthub manage it, even after a week's training ? 
Very well ; then don't minimise a successful effort 
because, thanks to the commanding influence of 
native talent, its accomplishment seems easy to a 
particular person." Business done. — BLicks- 
Bbach, oomplaining that Ministers have dropped 
a large number of Bills for lack of time to pass 
them, and asserting .that the time remaining at 
their disposal for passing the poor balance is too 
short, reduces it by three hours, in order that he 
and his friends may lament the fact. 

Friday.— House heard with keen satisfaction 
that Szlumpeb is around again. Not having seen 
in the newspapers any telegrams from him lately, 
there was vague idea that he had succumbed to 
his exertions on occasion of the happy event at 
White Lodge. Perhaps he was a little f atigued t for 
Szlumpeb, in addition to being Mayor of Rich- 
mond, is almost human. No man born of woman 
could with impunity fire off such a succession cf 
telegrams as on that memorable day Szlumpeb 
dealt out to his Sovereign, the Heir Apparent to 
the Throne, the Crowned Heads of Europe, and 
his ducal neighbours at the White Lodge. But on Royal Christen- 
ing day Szlumpeb was around again, with a little Szlumpeb carrying 
a bouquet of flowers to be presented to the Queen, whilst Szlumpeb 
pete, plumped on his knees, welcomed his Sovereign within the gate- 
way of ancient Richmond. 

** A A, ce Szlumpeb ! " said Sabk. ** he delights me more and more. 
He represents, if you think of it, the essence of our English social 
life. He is part of the foundation of the British Constitution, which 
everyone, especially those regarding it from a distance, regards as the 
perfection of good government." Business done. — A dull night 
speechmaking on Irian Evicted Tenants BilL 

" The Young Wales Party." 

OXFORD AND YALE.-(July 16.) 

A vebt good fight ! Come again to us, Tale ! 

We know a true Yank knows not how to spell " fail." 

Hickok and Sheldon can throw and can jump ! 

And e'en in the racing you made our lads pump 

Come again, Yale, come again, and again ; 

Victors or vanquished sucn visits aren't vain. 

One of these days you will probably nick us. 

We don't crow when we lick ; we won't cry when you lick us I 

Rise, Sir! 

" We are informed that the Queen has been pleased to confer the honour 
of a Baronetcy on Dr. John Williams, of Brook Street. Dr. Williams is 
the Physician who attended the Duchess of York."— DaiJy Paper, July 16. 

We congratulate Sir John, who is now a Sur-geon in every sense 
of the word. D dbyVjUiJXil 

August 4, 1894.] 




August 1st. — Deer-shooting 
in Victoria Park commences. 

2nd.— Distribution of 
venison to " Progressive " 
County Councillors and their 
families—especially to Alder- 

# Zrd . — Stalking American 
bison in the Marylebone dis- 
used grave-yard is permitted 
from this day. A staff of 
competent surgeons will be 
outside the palings. 

Uh. — Chamois-coursing in 
Brockwell Park. 

5th. — A few rogue elephants 
having been imported (at con- 
siderable expense to the rates), 
and located in the Regent's 
Park, the Chairman of the 
L. C. C, assisted by the Park- 
keepers, will give an exhibi- 
tion of the method employed 
in snaring them. The ele- 
phants in the Zoological Oar- 
dens will be expected to 

67*.— Bank Holiday.— 
Popular festival mi Hampstead 
Heath. Two herds of red deer 
will be turned on to the Heath 
at different points, and three 
or four specially procured 
man-eating Bengal tigers will 
be let loose at the Flag-staff 
to pursue them. Visitors may 
hunt the deer or the tigers, 
whichever they prefer. Ex- 
press rifles recommended, also 
the use of bullet-proof coats. 
No dynamite to be employed 
against the Users. Ambu- 
lances in the Vale of Health. 

The Council's Band, up 
some of the tallest trees, 
will perform musical selec- 

1th.— Races at Wormwood 
Scrubbs between the Council's 
own ostriches and leading 
cyclist*. A force of the Al 
Division of the Metropolitan 
Police, mounted on some of the 
reindeer from the enclosure at 
Spring Gardens, will be sta- 
tioned round the ground to 
prevent the ostriches es- 
caping into the adjoining 

Sth.— Sale of obtrich feathers 
(dropped in the contests) to 
West-End bonnet-makers at 
Union prices. 

9th. — Grand review of all 
the Council' 8 animals on 
Clapham Common. Procession 
through streets (also at Union 
rate). Banquet on municipal 
venison, tiger chops, elephant 
steaks, and ostrich wings at 
Spring Gardens. Progressive 


Andrew (preparing to divide the orange). " Will you choose the Bio 


George. '"Course I'll choose the Bio half." 

Andrew (with resignation). "Then I'll just have to make 'em even." 

Rather a change — for 
the better. — They (the 
dockers) wouldn't listen to 
Ben Ttllett. They cried 
out to him, "We keep you 
and starve ourselves." Hullo ! 
the revolt of the sheep! are 
they beginning to think that 
their leaders and instigators 
are after all not their best 
friends f "0 Tillett not in 
Gath!" And Little Ben may 
say to himself, "I'll wait 


" A Distant View." 
enchantment " — kindly 

V. - School. 

"Distance lends 

Distance ! 

. Wiping out all troubles and disgraces, 
How we seem to cast, with your assistance, 
All our boyish lines in pleasant places ! 

Greek and Latin, struggles mathematic, 
These were worries leaving slender traoes ; 

Now we tell the boys (we wax emphatic) 
How our lines fell all in pleasant places. 

How we used to draw (immortal Wackford /) 
Euclid's figures, more resembling faces, 

Surreptitiously upon the black-board, 
Crude yet telling lines in pleasant places. 

Pleasant places ! That was no misnomer. 

Impositions ?— little heed scape-graces ; 
Writing out a book or so of Homer, 

Even those were lines in pleasant places ! 

How we scampered o'er the country, leading 
Apoplectic farmers pretty chases, 

Ocer crops, through fenoes all unheeding. 
Stiff cross-country lines in pleasant places. 

Yes, and how— too soon youth's early day 

In* the purling brook which seaward races 
How we used to poach with luscious May-flies, 

Casting furtive lines in pleasant places. 

Then the lickings! How we took them, 
Girlish outcry, though we made grimaces ; 
Only smiled to nnd ourselves next morning 
Somewhat marked with lines in pleasant 

tol. cni. 

Alma Mater, whether young or olden, 
Thanks to you for hosts oi friendly faces, 

Treasured memories, days of boyhood golden. 
lines that fell in none bat pleasant places ! 


[" Mr. Asquith said that he waa informed by 
the Chief Commissioner of the Metropolitan Police 
that undoubtedly numerous accidents were caused 
by bicycles and tricycles, though he was not pre- 
I pared to say from the cause of the machines passing 
on the near instead of the off side of the road. 
Bicycles and tricycles were carriages, and should 
conform to the rules of the road, and the police, as 
far as possible, enforced the law as to riding to the 
common danger." — Daily Graphic, July 25.] 

Round the omnibus, past the van, 
Rushing on with a reckless reel, 
Darts that horrible nuisance, an 

Ardent cyclist resolved that he '11 
Ride past everything he can, 
Heed not woman, or child, or man. 
Beat some record, some ride from Dan 
To Beersheba ; that seems his plan. 
Why does not the Home Office ban 
London fiends of the whirling wheel P 

Let them ride in the country so, 

Dart from Duncansbay Head to Deal, 
Shoot as straight as the flight of crow, 
Sweep as swallow that seeks a meal, 
We don't care how the deuce they go, 
Bat in thoroughfares where we know 
Cyclists, hurrying to and fro, 
Make each peaceable man their foe, 
Riders, wallers alike cry " Whoa ! 
Stop these fiends of the whirling 


Amid the glowing pageant of the year 

There comes too soon th' inevitable shock, 

That token of the season sere, 

To the unthinking fair so cheaply dear, 

Who, like to shipwreck' d seamen, do it hail, 

And cry, " A Sale! a Sale! 

A Sale! a Summer Sale of Surplus Stock!". 

See, how, like busy-humming bees 
Around the ineffable fragrance of the lime, 
Woman, unsparing of the salesman's time, 
Reviews the stock, and chaffers at her ease, 
Nor yet, for all her talking, purchases, 
But takes away, with copper-bulged purse, 
The textile harvest of a quiet eye, 
Great bargains still unbought, and power to 

Or she, her daylong, garrulous labour done, 
Some victory o'er reluctant remnants won, 
Fresh from the trophies of her skill, 
Things that she needed not, nor ever will, 
She takes the well-earned bun ; 
Ambrosial food, Demeter erst design' d 
As the appropriate food of womankind, 
Plain, or with comfits deok'd and spice ; 
Or, daintier, dallies with an ice. 
Nor feels in heart the worse 
Because the haberdashers thus disperse 
Their surplus stock at an astounding sacrifice ! 

Yet Contemplation pauses to review 
The destinies that meet the silkworm's care, 
The fate of fabrics whose materials grew 
In the same fields of cotton or of flax, 
Or waved on fellow-flockmen's fleecy back*, 
And the same mill, loom, case, emporium, 
shelf, did share. 



[August 4, 1894. 

Digitized by 


August 4, 1894.] 




Sornk — Hunters cantering rowtd Show /Hng, 
Voidh on hard-imuihed Grey (havijwJHsl caimvned agnimt old Twtnlysturi), " 'Sovbjs m«, Si a, ^' bug an TO 03 rr. Nothing less 

than a Haystack stops bim I " 


{For Use in IteiUn Row.) 

Question. What part of London do you consider the most dxn- 
gerous for an equestrian V 

Ant&er, That part of the Park known as Rotten Row. 

Q. Why is it so dangerous Y 

A t Because it is overcrowded in the Season! and at all times im- 
perfectly kept. 

Q. what do yon mean hj " imperfectly kept " ? 

A m I mean th'at the soil is not free from bricks and other impedi- 
menta to eotn for table and tafe riding. 

Q. Why do yon go to Rotten Row ? 

A* Becaufc it is the most convenient place in London fur the resi- 
dent! of the West End. 

Q. Bnt would not Battersen Park do as well f 

A. It is farther afield, and at present , so far as the rides are con- 
cern ed, given over to the charms of solitude. 

Q. And is not the Regent's Park also available f.>r equestrians P 

A. To some extent ; but the roads in that rather distant pleafaunce 
are not comparable fur a moment with the ride within view of the 

Q. Would a ride in Kensington Gardens be an advantage F 

A. Yes, to some extent ; still it would scarcely be as convenient 
as the present exercising ground, 

Q. Then you admit that there are (and might he) pleasant rides 
other than Rotten Row ? 

A. Certainly ; but that fact does not dispense with the necessity of 
reform in existing institutions. 

Q* Then you consider the raising of other issues is merely a plan to 
confuse and obliterate the original cent en I ion f 

A* Assuredly ; and it is a policy that has been tried before with 
success to obstructors and failure to the grievance-mongers, 

Q. So as two blacks do not moke one white you and all bejieve that 
Rotten Row should ho carefully inspected and the causes of the recent 
accidents ascertained and remedied r 

A . I do ; and, further, am convinced that such a course would be 
for the benefit of the public in general and riders in Rotten Row in 


'Tis a norrihle tale I f m a-going to narrate ; 
It happened— veil, each vone can fill in the date! 
It *s a heartrending tale of three babbies m tine. 
Whom to spihHicate promptly their foes did incline. 
Yen they vos twite infants they lost their mamma ; 
They vos left all alone in the vorld vith their pa* 
But to vateh u'er bis babbies vos always hi* plan— 

'Cos their daddy he vos sich a keerf ul old man ! 

He took those three kiddies all into his charge. 
And kep them together *o they shouidn 1 * lfc go large," 
Two hung to hi a coat-tails along the hard track, 
And the third one, he clung to his neek pick-a-hack. 
The foes of those kiddies they longed for their bleed, 
And they swore that to carry 'em At shouldn't succeed, 
But to save them poor babbies he hit on a plan — 

'Cos their dadda he vos sich a artful old man I 

Some hoped, from exposure, the kids would ketch cold, 
And that croup cr rheumatics would lay Vm in the mould ; 
11 tit they seemed to survive every babbyish disease, 
Yich their venomous enemies did not uvitc please. 
But, in course, sich hard lines did the laddies no good; 
They got vet in the storm, they got lost in the vood, 
But their dad cried, 41 1 r ll yet save these kids if 1 can ! '* — 

{Chorus} — 
^s their f eyther he vos sich a dogged old man ! 

Foes honed he 'd go out of his depth,— or his mind,— 

Or, cutting his stick, leave his babbies behind, 

Ven they came to the margin of a vide roaring stream. 

And the kids, being frightened, began for to scream. 

But he cries, cheery like. " Stash that hullabulloo ! 

Keep your eye on your father, and he 'U pull you through!!" — 

Yich some thinks he viu do— if any von can— 

'Cos Sir Villyum he is rich a walliant old man ! 



[August 4, 1894. 


(A Story in Scenes.) 


Scene VI.— A First- Class Compartment. 

Lady Maisie (to herself). Poets don't seem to have much self- 
possession. He seems perfectly overoome by hearing my name like 
that. If only he doesn t lose Ms head completely and say something 
about my wretched letter ! 

Spurrell (to himself). I 'd better tell 'em before they find out for 
themselves. (Aloud ; des- 
perately.) My lady, I— I feel 
[ ought to explain at once 
bow 1 come to be going down 
to Wy vera like this. 

[Lady Maisie only just 
suppresses a terrified 

Lady Caniire (benignly 
amused). My good Sir, 
there 's not the slightest 
necessity, I am perfectly 
aware of who you are, and 
everything about you ! 

Spurr. (incredulously). 
But really I don't see how 

your ladyship Why, I 

haven't said a word that 

Lady Cant, (with a solemn 
waggishness). Celebrities 
who mean to preserve their 
incognito shouldn't allow 
their friends to see them off. 
I happened to hear a certain 
Andromeda mentioned, and 
that was quite enough for 

Spurr. (to himself re- 
liered). Sne knows ; seen 
the sketch of me in the Dog 
Fancier, I expect ; goes in 
for breeding bulls herself, 
very likely. Well, that 's a 
load off my mind ! (Aloud.) 
You don't say so, my lady. 
I'd no idea your ladyship 
would have any taste that 
way; most agreeable sur- 
prise to me, I can assure you ! 

Lady Cant. I see no rea- 
son for surprise in the 
matter. I have always 
endeavoured to cultivate my 
taste in all directions; to 
keep in touch with every 
modern development. I 
make it a rule to read and 
see everything. Of course, 
I have no time to give more 
than a rapid glance at most 
things ; but I nope some day 
to be able to have another 
Look at your Andromeda. I 
hear the most glowing ac- 
counts from all the judges. 

Spurr. (to Jumself). She 
knows all the judges ! She 
must be in the fancy ! 
[Aloud.) Any time your 
ladyship likes to name I shall be proud and happy to bring; her 
round for your inspection. 

Lady Cant, (with condescension). If you are kind enough to 
offer me a. copy of Andromeda t I shall be most pleased to possess 

Spurr. (to himself). Sharp old customer, this ; trying to rush me 
for a pup. / never offered her one! (Aloud.) Well, as to that, 
my lady, I 've promised so many already, that really I don't— but 
there —I '11 see what I can do for you. I '11 make a note of it ; you 
mustn't mind having to wait a bit. 

Lady Cant, (raising her eyebrows). I will make an effort to sup- 
port existence in the meantime. 

Lady Maisie (to herself). I couldn't have believed that the man 
who could write such lovely verses should be so— well, not exactly 
a gentleman ! How petty of me to have such thoughts. Perhaps 

44 Searching every pocket but the right one. 

geniuses never are. And as if it mattered ! And I 'm sure he 's very 
natural and simple, and I shall like him when I know him. 

_ [The train slackens. 

Lady Cant. What station is this? Oh, it u Shuntingbridge. 

(To Spurrell, as they get out.) Now. if you '11 kindly take charge of 

these bags, and go ana see whether there 's anything from Wyvern 

to meet us— you will find us here when you come back. 

Scene VII.— O/i the Platform at Shuntingb ridge. 

Lady Cant. Ah, there you are, Phellipson ! Yes, yon can take 
the jewel-case ; and now tou had better go and see after the trunks. 
(Pihllipson hurries back to the luggage-van ; Spurrell returns.) 
, * Well, Mr.— I always forget 

names, so shall call you 
" Andromeda "—have yon 

found The omnibus, is 

it ? Very well, take us to 
it, and we '11 get in. 

[They go outside. 
Undershell (at another 
part of the platform — to 
nimself). Where has Miss 
Mull disappeared to ? Oh, 
there she is, pointing out 
her luggage. What a quan- 
tity she travels with ! Can't 
be such a verv poor relation. 
How graceful and collected 
she is, and how she orders 
the porters about ! I really 
believe I shall enjoy this 
visit. (To a porter.) That's 
mine — the brown one with 
a white star. I want it to 
go to Wyvern Court— Sir 
Rupert Culvebjn's. 

Porter (shouldering it). 
Right, Sir. Follow me, if 
you please. 

[He disappears with it* 
Und. (to himself). I 
mustn't leave Miss Mull 
alone. (Advancing to her.) 
Can I be of any assistance P 
Phillipson. It's all done 
now. But yon might try: 
and find out how we're to 
get to the Court. 
[U^DERsnEU, departs; is re- 
quested to produce his 
ticket, and spends several 
minutes in searching every 
pocket but the right one. 

Scene VITL— The Station 
Yard at Shuntingbridge. 

Lady Cant, (from the 
interior of the Jf^yrern om- 
nibus, testily, to Footman). 
What are we waiting for 
now? Is my maid coming 
with us— or now P 

Footman. There's a fly 
ordered to take her, my lady. 
Lady Cant, (to Spurrell, 
who is standing below). Then 
it 's you who are keeping us I 
Spurr. If your ladyship 
will excuse me, I '11 just go 
and see if they've put out 
my bag. 

Lady Cant, (impatiently). Never mind about your bag. (To 
Footman.) What have you done with this gentleman's luggage P 
Footman. Everything for the Court is on top now, my lady. 

[He opens the door for SPURRELL. 
Lady Cunt, (to Spurrell, who is still irresolute). For goodness' 
sake don't hop about on that step ! Come in, and let us start. 
Lady Maisie. Please get in— there 's plenty of room ! 
Spurr. (to himself). They are chummy, and no mistake ! (Aloud, 
as he gets in.) I do hope it won't be considered any intrusion— my 
coming np along with your ladyships, I mean ! 

Lady Cant, (snappishly). Intrusion! I never heard such non- 
sense ! Did you expect to be asked to- run behind t You reallT 
mustn't be sp ridiculously modest. As if you/ Andromeda hadn't 
procured you the entrie everywhere ! [The omnibus starts. 

Spurr. (to himse\f). Good old Drummy ! No idea I was such a 

August 4, 1894. 




She (engaged to another). "We don't seem to be getting on vert well; something seems to be weighing rs down 1 " 

He (gloomily). "It's that Diamond and Sapphire Ring on your left hand. We should be all right if it weren't 


swell. I'll keep my tail up. Shyness ain't one of my failings. 
(Aloud to an indistinct mass at the further end of the omnibus, which 
is unlighted.) Er— hum— pitch dark night, my lady, don't get much 
idea of the country ! (The mass makes no response.) I was saying, 
my lady, it's too dark to- — (The mass snores peacefully.) Her 
ladyship seems to be taking a snooze on the quiet, my lady. (To 
Lady Maisie.) ( To himself) Not that that 's the word for it ! 

Lady Maisie (distantly). My Mother gets tired rather easily. (To 
herself) IV b really too dreadful; he makes me hot all oyer! If 
he 's going to do this kind of thing at Wyyern ! And I 'm more or 
less responsible for him, too ! I must see if I can't— It will be 
only kind. (Aloud, nervously.) Mr. — Mr. Blair ! 

Spurr. Excuse me, my lady, not Blair— Spurrell. 

Lady Maisie. Of oourse, how stupid of me. I knew it wasn't 
really your name. Mr. Spdrrsll, then, you — you won't mind if I 
give you just one little hint, will you ? 

Sptirr. I shall take it kindly of your ladyship, whatever it is. 

Lady Maisie (more nervously still). It's really such a trifle, but— 
but, in speaking to Mamma or me, it isn't at all necessary to say 
* my lady ' or ' your ladyship.' I— I mean, it sounds rather, well— 
formal, don't you know ! 

Spurr. (to himself). She 's going to be chummy now ! (Aloud.) I 
thought, on a first acquaintance, it was only manners. 

Lady Maisie. Oh— manners ? yes, I— I daresay— but still— but 
still — not at Wyvern, don't you know. If you like, you can call 
Mamma * Lady Cantire,' and me ' Lady Maisie,' and, of oourse, my 

Aunt will be" 4 Lady Culvbrin,' but— but if there are other people 
lying in the house, you needn't call them anything, do you see ? 
Spurr. (to himself). I 'm not likely to have the chance ! (Aloud.) 

i anything, do you see ? 
Lve the chance ! (Aloud . 
Well, if you 're sure they won't mind it, because I 'm not used to 
this sort of thing, so I put myself in your hands,— for, of course, you 
know what brought me down here ? 

Lady Maisie (to herself). He means my foolish letter ! Oh, I 
must put a stop to that at once! (In a hurried undertone.) Yes- 
yes ; I — I think I do. I mean, I do know— but — but please forget 
it— indeed you must ! 

Sptirr. (to himself). Forget I 've come down as a vet P The Cul- 
verins will take care I don t forget that ! (Aloud ^ But, I say, it 's 
all very well ; but how can I ? Why, look here ; I was told I was to 
come' down here on purpose to . 

Lady Maisie (on thorns). 1 know— you needn't tell me! And 
don't speak so loud ! Mamma might hear ! 

Spwrr. (puzzled). What if she did? Why, I thought her la— 
youp Mother knew ! 

Lady Maisie (to herself). He actually thinks I should tell Mamma ! 

i Oh, how dense he is! (Aloud.) Yes— yes— of course she knows — 
but— but you might wake her ! And— and please don't allude to it 
again— to me or— or anyone. (To herself.) That I should have to 
beg him to be silent like this ! But what can I do t Goodness only 
knows what he mightn't say, if I don't warn him ! 

Spurr. (nettled). I don't mind who knows. I'm not ashamed of 
it, Lady Maisie— whatever you may be ! 

Lady Maisie (to herself, exasperated). He dares to imply that I've 
done something to be ashamed of ! (Aloud ; haughtily?) I 'm not 
ashamed— why should I be P Only—oh, can't you really understand 
that— that one may do things which one wouldn't care to be re- 
minded of publicly r I don't wish it— isn't that enough P 

Spurr. (to himself). I see what she's at now— doesn't want it to 
come out that she's travelled down here with a vet! (Aloud, 
stiffly.) A lady's wish is enough for me at any time. If you 're 
sorry tor having gone out of your way to be friendly, why. I 'm not 
the person to take advantage of it. I hope I know now to behave. 

[He takes refuge in offended silence. 

Lady Maisie (to herself ). Why did I say anything at all! I've only 
made things worse— I 've let him see that he has an advantage. 
And he 's certain to use it sooner or later— unless I am civil to him. 
I 've offended him now— and I shall have to make it up with him ! 

Spurr. (to himself). I thought all along she diaVt seem as 
chummy as her mother— but to turn round on me like this ! 

Lady Cant, (waking up). Well, Mr. Andromeda, I should have 
thought you and my daughter might have found some subject in 
common ; but I haven't heard a word from either of you since we 
left the station. 

Lady Maisie (to herself). That 's sotne comfort ! (Aloud.) You 
must have had a nap, Mamma. We— we have been talking. 

Spurr. Oh yes, we have been talking, I can assure you — er— Lady 
Cantire ! 

Lady Cant. Dear me. Well, Maisie, I hope the conversation was 
entertaining P 

Lady Maisie. M-most entertaining, Mamma ! 

Lady Cant. I 'm quite sorry I missed it. ( The omnibus stops.) 
Wyvern at last ! But what a journey it 's been, to be sure ! 

Spurr. (to himself). I should just think it had. I've never 
been so taken up ana put down in all my life ! But it 's over now ; 
and, thank goodness, I 'm not likely to see any more of 'em ! 

[lie gets out with alacrity. 

Mrs. ft. has often had a cup of tea in a storm, but she cannot for 
the life of her see how there can p^s^ibly be a storm in a tea-cup. 



[August 4, 1894. 



Mr. S. " My deae Ladt, I 've Dined ' wisely, but sot too well ! ' " 


[" Russians leve of peace is outweighed by her 
duty to safeguard her vital interests, which would 
seriously suffer were Japan or China to modify the 
present state of things in Corea." ^-Official Russian 
view of the Corean situation, given by "Daily 
Telegraph" Correspondent at St. Petersburg.] 

Bruin, loquitur. 

" Duty to safeguard my interests ?" Quite so ! 
Nice way of putting it. yes, and so moral! 
Yet I love Peace! Pity game-books will 
fight so! 
Disfigures their plumes and their combs' 
healthy "coral." 
Big Coohin-China and Bantam of Jap 
Feel at each other they must have a slap. 

Cock-a-doodle-do-o-o-o ! ! ! 
Humph ! I must keep a sharp eye on the two ! 

Peace, now ! She is such a loveable darling ! 

Goddess I worship in rapt contemplation. 
Spurring and crowing, and snapping and 
Wholly unworthv a bird— or a nation! 
Still there is Duty f I have an idea 
Mine lies in watching this fight in Corea. 

Cock-a-doodle-do-o-o-o ! ! ! 
Bull yonder looks in a bit of a stew ! 

Some say my destiny pointeth due North, 
Ice-caves are all very well— for a winter- 
But Bruin 's fond of adventuring forth ; 
In the " Far East" he feels quite a warm 
Bull doesn't like it at all. But then Bull 
Fancies that no one should feed when he 's full ! 

Cock-a-doodle-do-o-o-o ! ! ! 
I am still hungry, and love chicken-stew ! 

To make the Corea a cock-pit, young Jappy, 
that huge Cochin- 

May suit you, or. even 

But— fighting yon know always makes me 
I feel, like poor Villikins robbed of his 
As if I could swallow a oup of " cold pison." — 
But— still— these antagonists I must keep 
eyes on. 
Cock-a-doodle-do-o-o-o ! ! ! 
Cookfighting is cruel,— but stirring fun, too! 

Duty, dear boys! Ah ! there's nothing like 

Gives one " repose"— like that Blacksmith 

of Longfellow ! * 
Go it, young Jap ! . That last drive was a 

But— your opponent's an awfully Btrong 

Little bit slow at first, sluggish and lum- 

But when he makes a fair start there 's no 


Cock-a-doodle-do-o-o-o ! ! ! 
Sakes ! How his new steel spurs shone as he 


Now, should I stop it, or should I take sides ? 
Bull and the other onlookers seem fidp«t^ » 

Cochin strikes hard, but indulges in ** wides " ; 

Game-oock is game — though a little mite 


Well, whate'er the end be, and whichever 

win, [cut in. 

I think the game 's mine, when I choose to 

Cock-a-doodle-do-o-o-o ! ! ! 
I 'm safe for a dinner— off one of the two ! 

[Left considering and chortling. 


(Dedicated (without permission) to the Pioneer 


Rouse ye, ye women, and flock to your banners ! 

War is declared on the enemy, Man ! 
If we can't teach him to better his manners, 

We '11 copy the creature as close as we can ! 
No longer the heel of the tyrant shall grind us. 

Rouse ye and rally ! !fhe despot defy ! 
And the false craven shall tremble to find us 

Resolved to a woman to do or to die. 

Then hey! for the latchkey, sweet liberty's 
Greet it, ye girls, with'your lustiest cheer ! 
Away with the scissors! Away with the 
thimble ! 
And hey nonny no for the gay Pioneer.! 

Why should we writhe on a clumsy side-saddle 

Designed on a most diabolioal plan F 
Women ! submit ye no longer ! Ride straddle. 

And jump on the corns of your enemy, Man ! 
Storm the iniquitous haunts of his pleasure, 

Leave him to nurse the dear babes when 
they fret, 
Dine at St. James' in luxurious leisure, 

And woo the delights of the sweet cigarette! 

Look to your latchkeys ! The whole situation 

Upon the possession of these will depend. 
Use them, ye women, without hesitation, 

And dine when ye will with a gentleman 
Man '8 a concoction of sin and of knavery — 

Women of India, China, Japan ! 
Rouse ye, and end this inglorious slavery ! 

Down with the tyrant ! Down, down with 
the Man !itized byVjOO^LC 


.£*'** at, 



•f ' * 

Digitized by 


August 4, 1894.] 





(Compiled by our Pet Pessimist.) 

If you imagine that it will 
be fine, and consequently that 
you can don the lightest of 
attire, you may be sure that it 
will be cold and wet, and ab- 
solutely unsuitable to travel- 

If you fancy that you will 
enjoy a delightful visit to some 
intimate friends, you will find 
that you have had your journey 
to a spot "ten miles from any- 
where" for nothing, as your 
intended hosts have gone 
abroad for the season. 

If you believe that you are 
seeing a favourite piece being 
played admirably at a West 
End theatre, you will discover 
that the programme was altered 
four days ago, and that the 
temple of the drama will not 
reopen until the autumn. 

If you arrange to go abroad 
with a friend, you will quarrel 
with your acquaintance on the 
following morning, and dis- 
arrange your plans for a life- 

Lastly, if you dream that 
you have decided to give up 
gadding about on a bank holi- 
day to remain at home, you will 
see: that it is better to follow 
your fancy, and avoid the risk 
of making a mistake by adven- 
turing to strange places and 
pastures new. 


" Wkll, good-bye for the present, Dearest I I hope you *ll be 




{A Surrey Rondel.) 

In sheer delight I sing the 

country s praise. 

The town no longer takes 

me day or nignt. 

'Mid scented roses one should 

loll and laze 

In sheer delight. 

The corn fields unto harvest 
glisten white, 
In pastures lowing kine con- 
tented graze. 
Per train (South-Eastern) now 
to wing his flight 
No lover of the Surrey side 
My own case you suggest? 
Of course you 're right. 
Which pYaps explains why 
I to spend my days 

In Shere delight! 

"SORTK8 Aquatics"; or, 
Maxim for the Maiden h r ad 
Regatta. — After a rattling 
race with Kilby of Staines 
(who was worn to a stand- 
still), and Cohen of Maiden- 
head (who pitched overboard), 
Verity of Weybridge easily 
retained the Upper Thames 
Single Punting Champion- 
ship. Wh^oert'n'ly! What 
says the old Latin saw? 
Magna est Veritas, et pro- 
rabbit! Which (obviously] 
means :— Great is Verity, and 
he shall prevail ! 


By G t## GE M # R # D # TH. 

Volumr II. 

The die was now a-casting. Hurtled though devious windings 
far from ordered realms where the Syntax Queen holds sway, spin- 
ning this way and that like the whipped box-wood beloved of youth 
but deadly to the gout-ridden toes of the home-faring Alderman, 
now sinking to a fall, now impetuously whirled on a devil-dance, 
clamorous as Cocytus, the lost souls filling it to the brink, at last the 
meaning glimmered to the eye— not that wherein dead time hung 
just above the underlids, but the oommon reading eye a-thirst for 
meanings, baffled again and again and drooping a soporific lid slowly, 
nose a-snore, and indolent mind lapped in slamber. They discussed i r . 

44 Am I a Literary Causerie ? " breathed Aminta. 

44 No, but food for such." 

44 And if lam?" she said. 

44 Torgidity masquerading as depth. Was ever cavalry general so 
tortured into symbolism P " 
. ' 4 1 remain," she insisted. 

44 1 go to Paris," was his retort. 

44 My aunt stays with me." 

4 4 Thank Heaven ! " he muttered. 

The design was manifest. Who should mistake it P For a fencer 
plays you the acrobat, a measure he, poised on a plum-box with 
jargon-mouth agape for what shall come to it. Is the man uncon- 
scious P The worse his fate. For the fact is this. All are Mere- 
dithians in dialogue, tarred with one brush abysmally plunged in the 
hot and steaming tank, a general tarred, a tarred tutor, a tarred 
sister, aunt reeking of the tar and General's Doubtful Lady chin- 
deep in the compound, and no distinction. 

Clatter, crash, bang. Helter-skelter comes dashing Lady Char- 
loitb, a forest at her heels dragged in chains for all a neighbour 
may pout and fret and ride to hounds. She switched him a brat-face 
patter-down of an apology tamed to the net-ponds of a busk-madder. 
blue nose vermilion, mannish to the outside, breathing flames and 
scattering apish hop-poles like a parachute blown into space by the 
bellows of a hugger-mugger conformity. **I can mew, ' she said. 
44 Old women can ; it's a way they have. The person you call v . 
but no— I pass it. Was ever such folly in a man r And that man my 
brother Rowslet. But you have seen her you say— a Spaniard— A v. 
ae mi; 8e*orita,w& the rest of the gibberish. What is her colour ?" 

The question flicked him like a hansom's whip, that plucks you 
. out an optic, policeman in helmet looking on, stolid on the mum- 
chance. Out it goes at whip-end and no remedy, blue, green, 
I brown or bloodshot. Glass can imitate or poroelain, and a pretty 
I trade 's a-doing in these, making a man like two light-houses, one 
I fixed as fate, the other revolving like the earth on its axis. 
j 4I Brown," he answered, humbly, 
i 44 Morsfield 's after her," said Lady Charlotte. 
[ " Let him." 

44 But he 's dangerous." , , , v xi_ 

44 1 can trounce such. Did it at school, and can remember the 

A lady came moving onward. She had that in her gait which 
showed command, her bonnet puckered to the front, a fat aunt 
trailing behind. They came steadily. It was Amiwta with her aunt. 
LordORMoNT, his temper ablaze like his manuscript, thirty-four 
pages, neither more nor less, fortifications planned, advice given 
gratis to the loutish neglecting nation, stepped forward. 
44 You must remove her," he declared to Wkyburn. 
44 But the aunt? "questioned Matey. . 

44 She must go too. See to it quickly ! " He fell back, the irre- 
vocable quivering in his eyeball, destiny mocking with careless glee, 
while Morsfield and a bully-captain saw their chances and just 
missed the taking. , 4 A . _ . 

Away they clattered. Matey and Aminta, leaving the Pagnell to 
her passion-breathing Morsfield. 

End of Vol. II. 


Solo and Chorus. 
The Opera time began in May, 
And ended but last Saturc/ay. 
We hope it has been made to i>ay 
Chorus. Augustus Drukio- 

lanus ! 
Solo. Not in the days of Mario 
Was there an Impresario, 
Arranger of scenario x 

Who knew so 44 where he are!" 

-peratical campaign can plan 
With sure success! no better man 
For operatic venture than 
Chorus {in unison). Augustus 
The Opera time, &c. (as above). 

\' m — Maxim for Cyclists.— 44 ZVy-cy< 

August 4, 1894.] 





Non-Golfer (middle-aged, rather stoui, who would like to play, and has been recommended U as healthy and amusing), " Well, I cannot 


Caddie. "Eh, mon, there 's more Swearing used over Golf than any other Game ! D'ye no ca' that Excitement t" 



Houss of Commons, Monday. July 23.— Quite like old times to 
hear Tim Mealy saying a few plain things about landlords ; Prince 
Arthur replying ; Tim growling out occasional contradiction ; whilst 
O'Brien hotly interrupts. To make the reminiscence complete Joseph 
contributes a speech in which he heaps contumely and scorn on 
representatives of Irish nationality. " Tim reminds him how different 
was his attitude, how. varied his voice, at epoch of Kilmainham Treaty. 

Tim has a rough hut effective way of fastening upon a name 
or phrase, and even blatantly reiterating it. Thus, when Old 
Morality, in his kindly manner, once alluded to a visit paid to him 
at a critical time by his "old friend Mr. Walter," Tim leaped 
down upon it. and, characteristically leaving out the customary 
appellation, filled the air with scornful reference to "my old friend 
Walter." To-night, desiring to bring into sharp contrast Joseph's 
present attitude towards Ireland and the landlord party with that 
assumed by him twelve years ago, he insisted upon calling the 
Arrears Bill of 1882 " the Chamberlain Act." It wasn't Joseph's 
personal possession or invention any more than it was the Squire of 
Malwood's. But that way of putting it doubly suited Tim's pur- 
pose. It permitted him, without breach of order, to allude by name 
to the member for West Birmingham ; there 's a good deal in a name 
when the syllables are hissed forth with infinite hate and scorn. 
Also it accentuated the changed position vis-d-vis Ireland to which 
further reflection and honest conviction have brought the prime 
mover in the Kilmainham Treaty. 

Irish . Members, forgetting their own quarrels with Tim as he 
fustigated the common enemy, roared with delight. A broad smile 
lighted up the serried ranks of the Liberals. Prince Arthur wore 
a decorous look of sympathy with his wronged right hon. friend. 
The Duke of Devonshire,— u late the Leader of the Liberal Party," 
— from the Peers' Gallery surveyed the scene with stolid countenance. 
Joseph, orchid-decked, sat in nis corner seat below the gangway, 
staring straight before him as one who saw not neither did ne hear. 

Business aons.—TiM Healy goes on the rampage. Evicted 
Tenants Bill read second time. 

Tuesday, — As has been noted on an earlier occasion, Britannia has 
no bulwarks, no towers along her steep. It is, consequently, the 
more comforting to know that Ellis Ashmead-Bartlbtt (Knight) 
keeps his eye on things abroad as they affect the interests of British 
citizens. The Member for Sarx tells me he has a faded copy of the 
Skibbereen Eagle containing its famous note of warning to Napoleon 
the Third. Was published at time of the irruption of Colonels. 

rioted in the riches of Leestar Square. 

Napoleon the Third did not escape suspicion of fanning this 
flame. Howbeit the Skibbereen Eagle came out one Saturday 
morning with a leading article commencing : " We have our eye on 
Napoleon the Third, Emperor of the French." 

Thus Ellis Ashmead-Bartlett (Knight) digs eagle claws into 
the aerie heights of the Clock Tower, and watches over the interests 
and cares of an Empire on which the sun rarely sets. 

"All the kinder of him," Sarx says, "since they cannot be said 
directly to concern him. In an effort to redress the balance between 
the Old World and the New, United States has lent us Ashmxad. 
The temporary character of the arrangement makes only the more 

serous his concern for the interests of the Empire in which he 

In the peculiar circumstances of the case those able young men, 
Edward Grey and Sydney Buxton, might be a little leas openly 
contemptuous in their treatment of the Patriotic Emigrant. Bard 
to say at which offioe door. Foreign or Colonial, Ashmead bangs his 
head with more distressful result. He takes them in succession, with 
dogged courage that would in anyone else excite admiration. Of the 
two janitors, perhaps Edward Grey's touch is the lightest He 
replies with a solemn gravity that puzzles Ashmead. and keeps him 
brooding till Speaker stays the merry laughter of the House by 
calling on the next question. Buxton is more openly contemptuous, 
more severely sarcastic, and sometimes, when Ashmxad's Brattling, 
of no consequence in the House, might possibly have serous effect 
when cabled to the Transvaal where they think all Members of 
Parliament are responsible men, he smartly raps out. Between the 



[August 4, 1894. 

two the Patriot—made in Brooklyn, plated in Sheffield— has a bad 
time of it. Has long learned how much sharper than a serpent's 
tooth is the tongue of an Under Secretary of State. Business done. 
— Second Reading of Equalisation of London Rates Bill moved. 

Thursday.— Lords took Budget Bill in hand to-night. Mabeiss 
asked for week's interval. This looked like fighting. At least there 
would be a reconnaissance in force led by the Mabeiss. House full ; 
peerless Peeresses looked down from side gallery ; Mabeiss in his 
place: Devonshire in his—not Chatsworth; that going to be shut 
up; out corner seat below gangway; Rosebebt hovering about, 
settled down at length in seat of Leader. Clerk read Orders of the 
Day. ** Finance Bill second reading." " I move the Bill be read a 
second time," said Rosbbebt, politely taking his hat off to lady in 
gallery immediately opposite. Ihen he sat down. 

Here was a pretty $o ! Expected Premier would make brilliant 
speech in support of Bill ; the Mabeiss would reply ; fireworks would 
fizz all round, and, though perhaps Budget Bill might be saved, 
Squibe of Malwood would be pummelled. Rosebebt takes oddest, 
most unparliamentary view of nis duty. The Lords, he said, when 
last week subject was mooted, have nothing to do with Budget Bill, 
unless indeed they are prepared to throw it out. " Will you do 
that?" he asked. "No," paid Mabeiss, looking as if he would 
much rather say "Yes." "Very well then," said Rosebeby, "all 
speeches on the subject must be barren." 

This to the Barons seemed lamentably personal. 

Rosebebt illustrated his point by declining for his own part to 
make a speech. Still there was talk ; barren speeches for three hours ; 
audienoe gradually dwindling: only a few left to witness spectacle of 
Halsbuby's blue blood boiling over with indignation at sacrilegious 
assault on landed aristocracy. 

44 If you want to make your flesh creep," says Sabe, 4< you should 
hear Halsbtjrt, raiting to full height his majestic figure, throwing 
the shadow of his proudly aquiline profile fiercely on the steps of the 
Throne where some minions or the Government oowered, exclaim, 4 My 
Lords, I detect in this Bill a hostile spirit towards the landed aristo- 

41 A Hal8buby ! a Halsbttbt ! " menacingly muttered Fbvebsham 
and some other fiery crusaders. 

For the moment, so deeply was the assembly slirred, a conflict 
between the two Houses seemed imminent. But Black Rod coming 
to take away the Mace the tumult subsided, and Lord Halsbttbt 
went home in a four-wheeler. 

Business done.— Budget read second time in Lords. 

Friday.— Scene in Commons quite changed ; properties remain but 
leading characters altered. After unprecedented run, Budget Bill 
withdrawn ; Irish Evicted Tenants Bill now underlined on bills. 
John Mobley succeeds the Squibe; Irish Members take up the 
buzzing of the no longer Busy B's. 

As for the Squibs, he takes well-earned, though only comparative 
rest ; preparing for congratulatory feast spread for him next Wed- 
nesday. Like good boy whose work is done is now going to have his 

Three Good Boys, who, having done their Work, get their Dinner. 

dinner. Also Rigby and Bob Rbid, who bore with him the heat and 
burden of the day. It's a sort of Parliamentary Millennium. The 
Chakoellob of the Exchequeb sits down with the Attobhey- 
G enseal ; the SoLicrroB-OEirEBAL puts his hand on the cockatrice* s 
den (situate in the neighbourhood of Tommy Bowles) ; and Fbane 
Locewood has drawn them. 
Business done.—* In Committee on Evicted Tenants Bill. 

Mbs. R. observes in a newspaper that a man was summoned for 
11 illegal distress." She is much puzzled at this, as she thought 
England was a free country, where people might be as unhappy as 
they liked I 


ell, my dear Mr. Punch, you, who hear 
everything, will be glad to receive from me 
the particulars of our Annual Farewell Charity 
Fete, given this year at the Grafton Gallery 
for the excellent object of providing the un- 
deserving with pink carnations. It was a 
bazaar, a concert, and a fancy-dress ball, all 
in one ; everyone who is anyone was there, 
and as they were all in costume, nobody could 
tell who was who. It was indeed a very 
brilliant scene. 
I refused to hold a stall, for I had enough 
T>~* v .f - tu~ to do writing out autographs of celebrities 

1 rate Box. ^ ^ ^^dlv), but ft ^ ^^ work| 

and there was an absurd fuss just because I made the trifling mistake 
of signing '• Yours truly, George Meredith" across a photograph of 
Arthur Roberts. What did it matter P I really cannot see that it 
made the slightest difference ; the person had asked for an autograph of 
Meredith and he got it, and a portrait of Roberts into the bargain ! 
so he ought to have been satisfied ; but some people are strangely 
exacting ! There was a great run on the autograph of Sarah Bern- 
hardt and I grew quite tired of signing Yvette, Rosebebt, and 
Cissie Loftus, however, it was all for the charity. I went as a 
Perfect Gentleman, and it was quite a good disguise— hardly anyone 
knew me ! I saw Sir Bruce Skene dressed as a Temperance Lec- 
turer ; Gbingoibe was there as the Enemy of the People with a 
bunch of violets in his button-hole ; the New Boy went as Becket, 
and Ch ablet's Aunt as the Yellow Aster. Tub Gentleman of 
France looked well as The Prisoner of Zenda. I recognised our old 
friend Dobian Gbat in a gorgeous costume of purple and pearls, with 
a crown on his head of crimson roses. He said he had oome as a 
Prose Poem, and he was selling Prose Poem-granates for the good of 
the charity. 

Here are some scraps of conversation I overheard in the crowd :— 

Enemy of the People (to Sir Bruce Skene). Been having a good 
time lately r 

Sir Bruce. Rather ! Tremendous ! I 've been doing nothing but 
backing winners, and, what 's more— (chuckling)— I ' ve at last got 
that astronomer fellow to take my wife and child off my hands. 
Isn't that jolly? 

Enemy of the People. Ah, really ? She is coming to us in the 
autumn, you know. 

Vivien Ahe Modern Eve (to the New Boy). I cannot stay here any 
longer. They never dust the drawing-room, the geraniums are 
planted all wrong, and I do not like the anti-macassars. Will you 
come with me ? 

New Boy. What a lark it would be ! But I 'm afraid I must Btay 
and look after my white mice. You see, Bullock Major 

Lady Belton (after her marriage, to Charley's Aunt, tearfully). 
He doesn't understand me, Aunty. 

Charley's Aunt. Never mind, my dear. Don't cry ! You shall 
oome with me to Brazil ; you 've heard me mention, perhaps, it 's the 
place where the nuts oome from : and we'll get up an amateur per- 
formance of the Pantomime Rehearsal ! 

We had all sorts of amusements. Under a palm, a palmist was 
prophesying long journeys, second marriages, and affairs of the 
heart to the white hand of giggling incredulity. Beautiful 
musicians, in blue uniforms, with gold Hungarian bands round their 
waists, were discoursing the sweetest strain that ever encouraged the 
conversation of the unmusical. A feature of the bazaar, that 
I invented, was a mechanical Sphinx behind a curtain. They asked 
it questions— chiefly, what would win the Leger— and put a penny 
in the slot. There never was any answer, and that was the 
great joke ! 

The whole thing was undoubtedly a wonderful success — and I knew 
it would be. I believed in my Fete, having always been rather a 

And, in the rush of a worldly, frivolous existence, how great a 
pleasure it is to think we should have aided— if ever so little— in 
brightening the lives of the poor young fellows, kept, perhaps, all the 
season through, in or near the hot pavement of Piccadilly, and with 
not so much as a buttercup to remind them of the green fields, the 
golden sunlight, the blue sky of the glorious country. To have 
helped in so noble a cause as ours is a privilege that made us leave 
the bazaar with tears of sympathy in our eyes, feeling better and 

Surer men and women. Long, long; may the button-hole of improvi- 
ence be filled by the wired carnation of judicious charity. 
Believe me, dear Mr. Punch, 

Yours very truly, " Jemima the Pekwoman." 

P.S. — An absurd name they gave me on account of the autograph 
incident. You remember what Jim the Penman" was ? Of course, 
but there *s no chance of my becoming the Pen-" Wipeb" in the 
bosom of a family. Au r*tw/ >igitized b y VjQOQLg 

August 11, 1894.] 




By G ### GE M # R # D # TH. 


And now the climax comes not with tongue-lolling sheep- 
fleece wolves, ears on top remorselessly pricked for slaughter 
of the bleating imitated lamb, here a fang pointing to nether- 
most pit not of stomach bat of Acheron, tail waving in de- 
risien of wool-bearers whom the double-rowed desiring mouth 
soon shall grip, food for mamma-wolf and baby-wolf, papa- 
wolf looking on, licking chaps expectant of what shall remain: 
and up goes the clamour of flocks over the country-side, and 
up goes howling of shepherds shamefully tricked by ^sop- 
fable artifice or doggish dereliction of primary duty; for a 
watch has been set through which the wolf-enemy broke 
paws on the prowl ; and the King feels this, and the Govern- 
ment, a slab-faced juhber-muhber of contending punies. 
party-voters to the front, conscience lagging how far oehind 
no man can tell, and the oountry forgotten, a lout dragging 
his chaw-bacon hobnails like a flask-fed snail housed safely, 
he thinks, in unbreakable shell soon to be broken, and no 
man's fault, while the slow oountry sinks to the enemy, ships 
bursting, guns jammed, and a dull shadow of defeat on a 
war-office drifting to the tide-way of unimagined back-stops 
on a lumpy cricket-field of national interests. But this was a 
climax revealed to the world. The Earl was deaf to it. Lady 
Charlotte dumbed it surprisingly. Change the spelling, put 
a for u and n for b in the dumbed, and you have the way 
Morsfield mouthed it. and Matey swimming with Bbowwy 
full in the Harwich tide ; head under heels up down they go 
in Old Ocean, a glutton of such embraces, lapping softly on a 
pair of white ducks tar-stained that very morning and no 

44 1 have you fast!" cried Matzt. 

u Two and two 's four," said Browny. She slipped. " Are 
four," corrected he, a tutor at all times, boys and girls taken 
in and done for, and no change riven at the turnstiles. 

44 Catch as catch can," was her next word. Plop went a 
wave full in the rosy mouth. " Where 's the catch of this f " 
stuttered the man. 

44 A pun, a pun ! " bellowed the lady. " But not by four- 
in-hand from London." 

She had him there. He smiled a blue scquiescenoe. So 
they landed, and the die was oast, ducks changed, and the 
goose-pair braving it in dry clothes by the kitchen fire. 
There was nothing else to be done : for the answer confessed 
to a dislike of immersions two at a time, and the hair clammy 
with salt like cottage-bacon on a breakfast-table. 

Lord Ormont sat with the jewels seized from the debating, 
unbeaten sister's grasp. 

44 She is at Marlow," he opined. 

44 Was," put in Lady Chablottb. 

The answer blew him for memory. 

4 * Morsfield *s dead," his lordship ventured; " jobbed by a foil 
with button off." 

"And a good job too." 

Lady Chablottb was ever on the crest- wave of the moment's 
humour. He snicked a back-stroke to the limits, shaking the sparse 
hair of repentance to the wind of her jest. But the unabashed one 

"I'll not call on her." 

44 You shall," said he. 

44 Shan't," was her lightning-parry. 

44 You shall." he persisted. 

44 Never. Her head is a water-flower that speaks at ease ia the 
open sea. How eall on a woman with a head like that P " 

The shock struck him fair and square. 

44 We wait," he said, and the conflict dosed with advantage to the 

A footman bore a letter. His step was of the footman order, calves 
stuffed to a longed-for bulbousness, food for donkeys if any such 
should chance : he presented it. 

44 1 wait," he murmured. 

44 Whence and whither comes it ? " 

44 Postmark may tell" 

44 Best open it," said the cavalry general, ever on the dash for open 
country where squadrons may deploy right shoulders up, serre-nles 
in rear, and a hideous clatter of serjeant-majors spread over all. He 
opened it. It was Aminta's letter. She announced a French leave- 
taking. The footman still stood. Lord Okm ont broke the silence. 

44 Go and be " the words quivered into completion, supply tie 

blank who will. 

But her punishment was certain. For it must be thus. Never a 
lad/ left her wedded husband, but she must needs find herself 
weighted with charge of his grand-nephew. Cuckoo-tutor tits in 


(From a Yorkshire Moor.) 

Sportsman (awaiting the morrow t and meeting Keejper as he strolls round). 
"Well, Rodoers. things look fairly hopeful foe To-morrow, eh?" 
Rodger* (strong Tory). "Well, Sir, midli*', pretty midlin\ But, oh 


( With much wisdom.) " Now, might Mr. Gladstone ha* had hansthino 


General's nest, General's wife to bear him company, and lo! the 
General brings a grand-nephew to the supplanter, convinced of 
nobility beyond petty conventions of divoroe-court rigmarole. So the 
world wags wilful to the offshoot, lawn-mowers grating, grass flying, 
and perspiring gardener slow in his shirt-sleeves primed with hope of 
beer that shall line his lean ribs at supper-time, nine o'clock is it, or 
eight— parishes vary, and a wife at home has rules. A year later he 


44 Sir,— Another novel is on hand. Likely you will purchase. 
Readers gape for it. Better than acrostics, they say, fit for fifty 
puzzle-p^es. WhatprioeP .. *»e. MWt».» 

The End. 

(From a Record in the Far East. ) 

Step Ons.— The nation takes to learning the English language. 

Step Two.— Having learned the English language, the nation 
begins to read British newspapers. 

Step Three.— Having mastered the meaning of the leaders, the 
nation start a Parliament. 

Step Four.— Having got a Parliament, the nation establishes school 
boards, railways, stockbrokers, and penny ices. 

Step Five.— Having become fairly civilised, the nation takes up 
art and commerce. , ,, , , , 

Step Six.— Having realised considerable wealth, the nation pur- 
chases any amount of ironclads, heavy ordnance, and ammunition. 

Step Seven.— Having the means within reach, the nation indulges 
in a terrific war. f^ix^s^vr^l 

Step Eight and Last.— Having lost everything, the nation returns 
with a tigh of relief to old-fashioned barbamm. 

vol. cvn. 



[AiGCsr 11, 18'J4 


Digitized by 

August 11, 1894.] 



' \^ \ 


The Emjloyment of Good-looking and Attractive Young Men in clearing the Letter-Boxes undoubtedly results in 

frequent detention of the mails. 


44 Oh East is East, and West is West/ 1 says 

strenuous Rudyard Kipling, 
And what has the West taught to the East, 

save the science of war. and tippling ? 
To ram, and to torpedo, ana to drain Drink's 

poisoned flagons P [plated Dragons ! 

And Civilisation sees her work in — armour - 
The saurians of primeval slime they fought 

with tooth and claw, 
And 8ho-ki's dragon, though possessed of 

wondrous powers of jaw, 
And Miochin's scaly monster, whereat 

Sho-ei's pluok might melt, 
And the dragon speared by stout St. George 

in the bold cartoons of Skelt,— 
These were but simple monsters, like the 

giants slain by Jack, 
But your dragon cased in armour-plate with 

turrets on his back, [and horrid tail 
And a charged torpedo twisted in his huge 
Is a thing to stagger Science, and to make 

poor Peace turn pale ! 

Yes, East is East, and West is West ; but the 

West looks on the East, 
And sees the bold Jap summoning to War's 

wild raven-feast 
The saffron-faced Celestial; and the game 

they 're going to play 
(With a touch of Eastern goriness) in the 

wicked Western way. 
For the yellow-man has borrowed from the 

white-man all that 's bad, r Ironclad. 
yrom shoddy and fire-water, to the costly 
He will not have our Bibles, but he welcomes 

our Big Guns, 
And he blends with the wild savagery of 

Vandals, Goths or Huns, 
The scientific slaughter of the Blood-and- 

Iron Teuton! — 

A sight that Civilisation would right 

willingly be mute on. 
But these armour-plated dragons that infest 

the Yellow Sea 
Are worse than the Norse " Dragons " whose 

black raven flag flew free 
O'er fiord and ocean-furrow in the valorous 

Viking days. 
Heathen Chinee and Pagan Jap have learned 

our Western ways 
Of multitudinous bloodshed ; every slaughter- 
ing appliance, 
Devices of death-dealing skill, and deviltries 

of Science 
Strengthen the stealthy Mongol and the 

sanguinary Turk - 
And Civilisation stands, and stares, and cms, 

11 Is this my work?" 

Mem. by a Muddled One. 

" Poems in Prose " seem all the go. 

They 're bad enough, but worse 
The dreary hotch-potch we all know 

Too sadly ;— prose in verse ! 


There rose two Book-Kings in the Wcbt, 
Two Kings both great and high ; 

And they have sworn a solemn oath 
Good old Three-Vol. shall die. 

They took a pen and wrote him down, 

Piled sins upon his head ; 
And they have sworn a solemn oath 

Good old Three-Vol. is dead. 

But when " the Season " comes once more, 

And folks for fiction call, 
Old Three-Vol. may rise up again, 

And sore surprise them all! 


(A Pindaric Fragment.) 

In the young season's prime 
Yon remnant felt its major portion reft, 
And waited for the surplus time 
Ingloriously left. 

For it no glories of the lawn, 

No whirling in the valse that greets the dawn, 

No record in the fleeting roll of fame 

That gives the wearer's name, 
And tells a waiting world what gown she 

While that which went before 
No cheaply-sober destiny has found 

But graced fair Fashion's ground, 

Where Pleasure, gaily deck'd, 
Within the fancied circle of select, 
Watches the Polo cavalry at war, 
The victim pigeons tumbled in their gore. 
The rival Blues at Lord's, the racing steeds 

On Ascot* 8 piney meads, 
Or where luxuriant Goodwood's massy trees 

Murmur to no common breeze, 
And see afar the glint of England's summer 

Impute no fault, ye proud, nor grandeur 

If frugal Elegance, discreet and fair, 
The aftermath of lavish Fashion reap, 
And, having waited long with nought to 

Get the same goods, though late, and get 

them cheap. t [lock 

Next year the daintiest gowns by lawn and 

May haply be the fruit* of surplus summer 


Pops for the Emancipated Sex.— 4 ' The 
understudy of mankind is woman. 19 




[August 11, 1894. 


(A Story in Scenes.) 


Scene IX.— The Entrance Hall at Wyvern. 

Tredwell (to Lady Cantos). This way, if you please, my lady. 
Her ladyship ii in the Hamher Boudwore. 

Lady Cantire. Wait. (She looks round.) What has beoomeof 

that young Mr. Androm ? (Perceiving Spubbell, who has 

been modestly endeavouring to efface himself. ) Ah, there he is ! 
Now, come along, and be presented to my sister-in-law. She '11 be 
enchanted to know von ! 

Snurrell. But indeed, my lady I— I think I 'd better wait till she 
sends for me. 

Lady Cant. Wait? Fiddlesticks! What! A famous young 
man like you ! Remember Andromeda, and don't make yourself so 
ridiculous ! 

Spurr. (miserably). Well, Lady Cantire, if her ladyship says 
anything, I hope you'll bear me out that it 

Lady Cant. Bear you out? My good 

Cig man, you seem to need somebody to 
you in ! Come, you are nnder My wing. 
I answer for your welcome — so do as you 're 

Spurr. (to himself \ as he follows resignedly). 
It's my belief there '11 be a jolly row when I 
do go in ; but it 's not my fault ! 

Tred. (opening the door of the Amber 
Boudoir). Lady Cantcbe and Lady Maisie 
Mull. [To Spubbell.) What name, if you 
please, Sir ? 

Spurr. (dolefully). You can say " James 
Spubbell'' — you needn't bellow it, you know ! 

Tred. (ignoring this suggestion). Mr. Jakes 

Spurr. (to himself, on the threshold). If I 
don't get the chuck for this, I shall be sur- 
prised, that 's all ! [He enters. 

Scene X.— In a Fly. 

Under shell (to himself). Alone with a love ly 
girl, who has no suspicion, as yet, that I am 
the poet whose songs have thrilled her with 
admiration ! Coula any situation be more 
romantic P I think I must keep up this little 
mystification as long as possible. 

Phillipson (to herself). I wonder who he 
is. Somebody's Man, I suppose. I do be- 
lieve he's struck with me. Well, I've no 
objection. I don't see why I shouldn't forget 
Jim now and then—he 's quite forgotten me ! 
(Aloud.) They might have sent a decent 
carriage for us instead of this ramshackle old 
summerhouse. We shall be hours getting to 
the house at this rate I 

Und. (gallantly). For my part, I care not 
how long we may be. I feel so unspeakably 
content to be where I am. 

Phill. (disdainfully). In this mouldy, lum- 
bering old concern Y You must be rather 
easily oontented. then ! 

Und. (dreamily). It travels only too swiftly. To me it is a veritable 
enchanted oar. drawn by a magic steed. 

Phill. I don't know whether he 's magic—but I 'm sure he's lame. 
And I shouldn't call stuffiness enchantment myself. 

Und. I 'm not prepared to deny the stuffiness. But cannot you 
guess what has transformed this vehicle for me — in spite of its un- 
deniable shortcomings— or must I speak more plainly still ? 

Phill. Well, considering the shortness of our acquaintance, I must 
say you *ve spoken quite plainly enough as it is ! 

Und. I know I must seem unduly expansive, and wanting in 
reserve ; and yet that is not my true disposition. In general, If eel 
an almost fastidious shrinking from strangers 

Phill. (with a little laugh). Really, I shouldn't have thought it ! 

Und. Because, in the present case, I do not— I cannot— feel as if 
we were strangers. Some mysterious instinct led me, almost from 
the first, to associate you with a certain Miss Maisie Mull. 

PhUl. Well, I wonder how you discovered that. Though you 
shouldn't have said " Miss "—Lady Maisie Mull is the name. 

Und. (to himtelf). Lady Maisie Mull ! I attach no meaning to 
titles -and yet nothing but rank could confer such perfect ease and 
distinction. (Aloud.) I should have said Lady Maisir Mull, un- 
doubtedly—forgive ray ignorance But at least I have divined you. 
Does nothing tell you who and what /may be ? 

rush). Oh t go 
don't believe 

Phill. Oh, I think I can give a tolerable guess at what you are. 
Und. You recognise the stamp of the Muse upon me, then ? 
Phill. Well, I shouldn't have taken you for laroom exactly. 
Und. (with some chagrin). You are really too nattering ! 
Phill. Ami? Then it's your turn now. You might say you'd 
| never have taken me for a lady's maid ! 

Und. I might— if I had any desire to make an unnecessary and 
! insulting remark. 

PhiU. Insulting? Why, it's what I am! I'm maid to Lady 
Maisie. I thought your mysterious instinct told you all about it ? 

Und. (to himself— after the first shock). A lady's maid ! Gracious 
Heaven ! What have I been saying— or rather, what haven't I ? 
(Aloud.) To— to be sure it did. Of course, I quite understand that 
(To himself). Oh, confound it all, I wish we were at Wyvern ! 

Phill. And, after all, you've never told me who you are. Who 
are you ? 

Und. (to himself). I must not humiliate this poor girl ! (Aloud.) 
I? Oh— a very insignificant person, I assure you! (To himself.) 
This is an occasion in whioh deception is pardonable — evenjustifi- 
i able! 

Phill. Oh, I knew that. But you let out 
just now you had to do with a Mews. You 
aren't a rough-rider, are you ? 

Und. N — not exactly -not a rot/^A-rider. 

(To himself.) Never on a horse in my life! 

- unless I count my Pegasus. (Aloud.) But 

you are right in supposing I am connected 

with a muse— in one sense. 

Phill. I said so, didn't I ? Don't you think 

m it was rather olever of me to spot you, when 

— you 're not a bit horsey-looking f 

Und. (with elaborate irony). Aooept my 
oompliments on a power of penetration which 
is simply phenomenal ! 

Phill. (giving him a little 
along— it '8 all talk with you - 
you mean a word you say ! 

Und. (to himse{f). She's becoming abso- 
lutely vulgar. (Aloud.) I don't — I don't; 
it '8 a manner I have; you mustn't attach 
any importance to it— none whatever ! 

Phill. What ! Not to all those high-flown 
oompliments ? Do you mean to tell me you 're 
only a gay deceiver, then ? 

Und. (i/i horror). Not a deceiver, no; and 
decidedly not gay. I mean I did mean the 
compliments, of course. (2b himself) I 
mustn't let her suspect anything, or she '11 
pet .talking about it ; it would be too horrible 
if this were to get round to Lady Maisie or 
the Culvebins— so undignified ; and it would 
ruin all my prestige I I 've only to go on 
playing a part for a few minutes, and— maid 
or not— she 's a most engaging girl ! 

\He goes on playing the part, with the 
unexpected result of sending Miss 
Phillipson into fits of uncontrollable 

Scene XL — The Back Entrance at Wyvern. 
The Fly has just set down Phillipson 
and Undebshell. 

Tredwall (receiving Phillipson). Lady 
Maisie' s maid, I presume ? I 'm the butler here— Mr. T bed well. 
Your ladies arrived some time back. I '11 take you to the house- 
keeper, who '11 show you their rooms, and where yours is, and I hope 
vou'll find everything comfortable. (In an undertone \ indicating 
UXDERSHELL, who is awaiting recognition in the doorway.) Do you 
happen to know who it is with you r 

Phillipson (in a whisper). I can't quite make him out he's so 
flighty in his talk. But he says he belongs to some Mews or other. 

Tred. Oh, then /know who hew, 
He * s a partner in a crack " 

I'd better see to him, L „ . ... w , . 

to the Housekeeper's Room, second door to ihe left, down that 
corridor. (Phillipson departs.) Good morning to you, Mr.— ah— 
Mr. ? 

Undershell doming forward). Mr. Undebshell. Lady Cclvebin 
expects me, I believe. 

Tred. Quite correct, Mr. Undebshell, Sir. She do. Leastwise, 
I shouldn't say myself she'd require to see you— well, not before 
to-morrow morning— but you won't mind that, I daresay. 

Und. (choking). Not mind that ! Take me to her at once ! 

Tred. Couldn't take it on myself, Sir, really. There 's no par- 
ticular 'urry. I'll let her ladyship know you're 'are; and if she 
wants you, she 'U send for you ; but, with a party staying in the 

" What name, if you please, Sir 'r " 

tut ne says ne oeinngs to some Mews or otner. 
now who he is. We expect him right enough, 
ack firm of Yets. We 've sent for him special, 
a, if you don't mind finding your own way 


August 11, 1894.] 



'ouse, and others dining with us to-night, it ain't likely as she '11 
have time for you till to-morrow. 

Und. Oh then, whenever her ladyship should find leisure to re- 
oollect my existence, will you have the goodness to inform her that I 
have taken the liberty of returning to town by the next train P 

Tred. Lor! Mr. Undebshell, you aren't so pressed as all that, 
are you P I know my lady wouldn't like you to go without seeing 
you personally ; no more wouldn't Sir Rupert. And 1 understood 
you was ooming down for the Sunday ! 

Und. (furious). So did J— hut not to he treated like this ! 

Tred. {soothingly). Why, you know what ladies are. And you 
couldn't see Beerfoot— not properly, to-night, either. 

Und. I have seen enough of this place already. I intend to go 
hack by the next train, I tell you. 

Tred. But there ain't any next train up to-night— being a loop 
line— not to mention that I 've sent the fly away, and they can't 
spare no one at the stables to drive you in. Come Sir, make the best 
of it. 1 ' ve hod my borders to see that you 're made comfortable, and 
Mrs. Pompret and me will expect the pleasure of your company at 
sapper in the 'ousekeeper's room, 9.30 sharp. I '11 send the Steward's 
Room Boy to show you to your room. 

[He goes, leaving Undebshell speechless. 

Und. (almost foaming). The insolence of these cursed aristocrats ! 
Lady Culverin will see me when she has time, forsooth I I am to be 
entertained in the servants' hall! This is how our upper classes 
honour poetry ! I won't stay a single hour under their infernal 
roof. Ill walk. But where to? And how about my luggage P 

[Phillipson returns. 

PhiU. Mr. Tredwell says you want to go already ! It can't be 
true ! Without even waiting for supper P 

Und. (gloomily). Why should I wait for supper in this house P 

PhiU. Well, I shall be thore ; I don't know if that's any induce- 
ment. [She looks down. 

Und. (to himself). She is a singularly bewitching creature ; and 
I 'm starving. Why shouldn't I stay—if only to shame these Cul- 
verins P It will be an experience— a study in life. I can always go 
afterwards. I will stay. (Aloud.) You little know the sacrifice you 
ask of me, but enough ; 1 give way. We shall meet— (with a gulp) 
— in the housekeeper's room ! 

PhiU. (highly amused). You are a comical little mon. You '11 be 
the death of me if you go on like that ! [She flits away. 

Und. (alone). I reel disposed to be the death of somebody ! On, 
Lady Maisib Mull, to what a bathos have you lured your poet by 
your artless flattery— a banquet with your aunt's butler I 


Crickjlt may be a game, but I can't call it sport, 

For " the odds " at it aren't to be reckoned. 
There the last 's often first ere you come into port, 

While the first is quite frequently second. 
There was Surrey, you see, slap a-top o' the tree, 

While Sussex was bang at the bottom. 
But, thanks to the in-and-out form of the three, 

You never know when you have got 'em ! 
For when I backed Surrey with cheerful content. 
Why Kent walloped Surrey, and Sussex whipped. Kent ! ! ! 


" There are, methinks," quoth the Baron. " two or three novels 
—one certainly I can call to mind — wherein the interior domestic life 
of Jews strict in the observance of their ancient and most touching 
religious rites and ceremonies is more amply, as well as more 
minutely, described than in Mr. Farjeon's Aaron the Jew. which, be 
it my pleasing duty to testify, is one of the best of this prolifio 
author's works ; a simple, touching story, the interest being w* 11 kept 
up, as of course the ** interest" should be when dealing with the true 
history of one who commenced as a pawnbroker." As to the rites above 
mentioned, no special or intimate personal experience is shown to be 
possessed by the author, who could very easily have obtained his 
materials from an interesting work entitled, as I fancy. The Jew at 
Home, which has. the Baron regrets to say, disappeared from its thelf 
in the Baron's Horary. Aaron is lively, is gay, is witty, a " Jew 
<T esprit," and, like Mr. Peter Magnus, he amuses a Fmall circle of 
intimate friends ; but his story, and that of his sweet wife Rachel, as 
related bv Mr. Farjeon, will increase this friendly circle to a very 
considerable extent. The Baron ventures to think that a good deal 
of the dialogue and of the descriptive writing is unnecessary, — but 
Mr. Farjeon likes to give everyone plenty for their money,— and. 
farther, that the story would have gained by the loss of what would 
have reduced the three volumes to two. But altogether, the novel 
is " recommended" by the interested but disinterested 

Baron de Book-Worms. 


Mamma (to Johnny, who has been given a rear with PUls artfully 
concealed in U). "Well, dear, have you finished your Pear?" 
Johnny. " Yes, Mamma, all but the Seeds 1 " 


By a Hard up Journalist. 

[A strange light his appeared on that part of the surface of Mais not 
illuminated by the sun. The Westminster Gazette of August 2 asks the 
question, " Is Mars signalling to us ? "] 

Oh, men of Mars, we thank you, your behaviour 's really kind ! 
(Forgive us if you Ve lately slipped somewhat out of mind !) 
For now the silly season 's set in with all its " rot/' 
Ton onoe more raise the question whether you exist or not. 

No doubt the good old topics will trot out yet again :— 

44 Is Flirting on the Increase ? " " Is Marriage on the Wane ? " 

Big gooseberries as usual with sea-serpents will compete, 

To help the British Press-man his columns to complete I 

But you, my merry Martians, have opportunely planned 
A mud but new sensation for the holidays at hand ; 
Your planet* s " terminator," it seems, is now ablaze— 
'Tis, say the cognoscenti, a signal that you raise ! 

What is it that you 're shewing terrestrial telescopes ? 
Is't pills you 're advertising, or booming patent soap ? 
How on earth can one discover what by this beacon 's meant, 
Whether news of Royal Weddings or Railway Strikes is sent ? 

Alas ! We haven't mastered the transplanetio cede ; 

Your canals are yet a riddle, in vain your fires have glowed ! 

Still, do not let your efforts each August-tide abate— 

You furnish us with " oopy," which maintains the Fourth Estate ! 


Hotel announces 

Visitors to Bournemouth.— The Royal Bath 
11 Private Suites." Is "General Bitttrs" there 

Educational Motto. [For Mr, A eland's use.) — "A place for 



[August 11, 1894. 


Re. " Oh, you 'be feom Ambeica, aee you ? People often say to me, ' Don't you 
DI8UKR Americans?' But I always say 'I bblieve there aee some very nice ones 




["lie (Sir William Harcourt) confessed that 
he was nut enamoured of these exceptional 
measures, and he resorted to them with extreme 
regret. But if he were asked for a justification of 
this motion, he would refer hon. gentlemen to the 
Order Book of the House of Commons."] 

Gunner Habcoubt, loquitur: — 

Exceptional measures I hate, 
I 'd rather not always be battling : 

The good old " Brown Bess" I prefer, I 
To a new (Parliamentary) Gatling. 

To fight in the old-fashioned way. 
Good temperedly. fairly, politely, 

Is more to my mind ; but these fellows, I find, 
Will not let a leader be knightly. 

If Balfour would only fipht fair ; 

And impose that condition on Babtley ; 
If Joe would not ravage and shriek like a 

Did Tommy talk less, and less tartly ; 
Were Goschen less eager for scalps. 

And kept a tight rein upon Hanbuby ; 
Why then 'twere all right; we'd soon get 
through our fight 

And hatred in love's flowing can bury. 

But no, they 're like Soudanese blacks, 

All fury and wild ugly rushes. 
They shriek and they shock, and they hack 
and they hock. 

Till chivalry shudders and blushes. 
And so the machine-gun, I find, 

Is just the one thing will arrest 'em. 
They 've quite lost their head, but a fair rain 
of lead 

Played on them will try 'em and test 'em ! 

Whir-r-r-r! George! how it's mowing 
them down, 
Their Advance - guard,— '* Amendments" 
they dub them! 
They swarm thick and thicker. The handle 
turnB quicker ! 
'Tis dreadful ; but then we must drub them. 
As Coubtnsy so gallantly said, 

'Tis ** deplorable " ; troubles me sorely. 
But if Arthur and Joe won't make terms, 
why. you know, 
They really can't blame me and Mobley I 


II.— The Links of Lovb. 

Mt heart is like a driver-club, 

That heaves the pellet hard and straight, 
That carries every let and rub. 

The whole performance really great ; 
My heart is like a bulger-head, 

That whiffles on the wily tee. — 
Because my love distinctly said 

She 'd halve the round of life with me. 

My heart is also like a oleek, 

Resembling most the mashie sort, 
That spanks the object, so to speak, 

Aoross the sandy bar to port ; 
And hers is like a putting-green* 

The haven where I boast to be, 
For she assures me she is keen 

To halve the round of life with me. 

Some wear their hearts upon their sleeve, 

And others lose 'em on the links ; 
(This play of words is, by your leave, 

Rather original, one thinks ;) 
Therefore my heart is like to some 

Lost ball that nestles on the Ida, 
Because my love has kindly come 

To halve the round of life with me. 

Raise me a bunker, if you can. 

That beetles o'er a deadly ditch, 
Where any but the bogey-man 

Is practically bound to pitch ; 
Plant me beneath a hedge of thorn, 

Or up a figurative tree, 
What matter, when my love has sworn 

To halve the round of life with me ? 


The poets sing of a Golden Age. 

Are we trying to start its fellow ? 
The Yellow Aster is all the rage ; 
The Yellow Races in wsr engage ; 
The Primrose League wild war doth wage, 
And the much-boomed Book in cover and page 

Like the Age itself is— Yellow. 
Well, Yellow 's the tint of Gold-and Brass ! 
Of the Golden Calf —and the Golden Ass ! 
Of the " livery " face and the faded leaf, 
But 'tis tedious, very, beyond belief. 
I own I am little inclined to smile 
On the colour of age, decay, and bile 

And mustard, and Othello ; 
I 'm tired. I own, (if it's very look, 
And I feel compelled to cock a snook 
At the Yellow Primrose, the Yellow Book. 
Though an Age indeed 
That runs to seed 

Is like to run to Yellow ! 


Digitized by 


August 11, 1894.] 




LUUe Girl {of inquiring mind, to Stud Groom, looking at a Mare in f eld un'th Foal). " How old 18 that little Horse ? " 

Stud Groom. " Well, Misst, he '« only Five Days old." 

Little Girl (to her Governess). •• Oh, Nana, did / bun about the Fields when I was Five Days old ? " 


Sunday.— How exhausting is London life! Up late, night and 
morning. Club. See summer number of illustrated paper. Pictures 
of pretty girls, reclining in punts, hammocks, or deck-chairs, doing 
nothing, men helping them. True holiday for jaded Londoner. 
Perhaps better without pretty girls. Even more reposeful. Must 
get right away. Secluded place. No pretty girls. That tiny inn 
Jokes told me about. Miles from everywhere. 

Monday. — At Tiny Inn. Fine afternoon. Feel quite happy. 
With summer clothes, rammer numbers, flannels, straw hat, and 
other suitable things. Seven miles from station. Beautifully clean. 
Perfectly quiet, weather changing. Raining. Landlord says, 
" Soon over." Eggs and bacon for supper. To bed early. 

Tuesday.— Wake at five. Up at six to enjoy morning air. Eggs and 
bacon for breakfast. Still raining. Landlord says, " Very remark- 
able, since in this place it never rains." Somehow the clouds always 
pass over neighbouring village, following the course of the river, 
the ridge of the hills, or something. Have noticed in all country 
places that the clouds always do this, except when Jam there. Im- 
possible to lounge under a tree in this ram. Stop indoors, smoke, 
and read summer numbers. Eggs and bacon for lunch. Rain 
going on steadily. Put on flannels, go out. Drenched. Eggs and 
bacon for dinner. Landlord says they hope to give me some meat to- 
morrow. Butcher calls once a week apparently. Wet evening. 
Somewhat tired of sitting on horsehair sofa with damaged springs. 
Know all the summer numbers by heart. To bed at ten. 

Wednesday.— Wake at four. Toss about till six. Then up. 
Still raining. Breakfast,— eggs and bacon. Landlord savs if I cross 
two fields I shall find the river and a punt. Thanks. Will wait till 
rain stops. He says it is sure to stop soon. Ask him if one can get 
a London paper. Says thev sometimes have one at the stationer's, 
four miles off, but generally only when ordered. Lends me a local 
paper of last week. Reduced to summer numbers agaio. Begin to 
wish there were some pretty girls here, after all. They might enliven 
things. After lunch,— of eggs and bacon,— resolve to go out. Ask I 

landlord where one can go. Don't like to ask " if any girls about 
anywhere ? " Accidentally landlord does happen to mention Farmer 
Muggeredge's daughters. I pretend indifference, but inquire as to 
direction of Muggertdge's farm. Lose my way. Wander helplessly. 
Steady downpour. Return, drenched. Butcher has not been. Eggs 
and bacon for dinner. Smoke, and read advertisements— plenty of 
them — in summer numbers. To bed at nine. 

Thursday. — Wake at three. Toss about till seven. Then break- 
fast—usual dish. Rain not quite so heavy. With fuller directions 
as to road, start hopefully for Muggehidge's farm. Arrive there. 
Heavy rain again. Mfggebidge loafing about. Country people 
always loaf about in rain. They seem to enjoy it. Chat with him. 
He asks me in to have some cider. Accept. Chance of seeing 
charming daughters. They enter ! Now ! . . . Oh ! awful ! . . . 
Cider acid. Obliged to drink it. Hurry back. Lunch. Usual dish. 
Still raininflr. Call in landlord, and ask eagerly about trains to 
London. The next is to-morrow morning, at 8.20. Give way to 
despair. Refuse eggs and bacon for dinner. Bed eight. 

Friday. — Leave in landlord's cart at seven, after usual breakfast. 
Still raining steadily. Gave landlord all those summer numbers to 
amuse future weather-bound visitors with imaginary pictures of 
rural happiness. London once more ! Hurrah! Dinner— not eggs 
and bacon. Theatre. Smoke at club. Avoid Jones. Tell Smith 
I know the sweetest place for country peace and seclusion. He 
writes down the address eagerly. Those summer numbers will amuse 
him. To bed— any time ! 

At the Window.— Judging from the tone of James Payn's delight- 
ful Note- Book this week, one fears that charming and cheery gossiper 
has been "laid up," has been compelled to take his " Notes" from a 
sick-couch at a window— has, in fact, for the time, become a window- 
Payn ! Well, a window is no bad ooign of vantage for an observant 
penman. "The World from a Window " would make an excellent 
nook, and James Patn would be the very man to write it. Let Mr. 
Payn think of it. Mr. Punch's present purpose, however, is to wish 
his pood friend and favourite writer speed v emancipation from the 
bonds of sickness and compulsory window- watching. 
Dig i tized by VJVJOV^K 

August 11, 1894.] 





" Rijbticus." who is dearly 
"Rusncus Expectaits," was 
moved to write to the Chronicle 
on July 31st, to say that, 
though not a rich man, he 
lives in a pretty Surrey village 
within an eigntpenny return 
railway fare of the Citv ; and 
has a fairly large and quiet 
garden, with field. &c. 4< The 
trees are all at their finest," 
he proceeds, ' * the flowers look- 
ing very gay and walking in 
the garden. Capital fun this, 
when flowers actually walk 
about. But no! it's * 4 walk- 
ing in the garden to-day the 
thought came to me/ 1 so it's 
a walking thought, comparable, 
doubtless, to a running com- 
mentary. Anyhow. "Rusn- 
CU8" is moved— by the thought 
of a "tired working-man or 
band of City workers" who 
would find in his garden plea- 
sure on a quiet Saturday after- 
noon — to make an offer. Here 
are his words : — 

"lama bachelor, therefore I 
say, men, you are welcome to my 
very simple hospitality if it is of 
any use to you. I can do with a 
limited number every or any 
Saturday. Any creed or class is 
welcome. All I stipulate for is 
honest souls. Come and smoke 
and talk under the trees snd spend 
a quiet time away from the town. 
I simply condition — no publicity 
or fuss, the giving and acceptance 
of the invitation quietly, honestly, 
brother to brother, would you, 
Sir, forward any letters on to me ? " 

This is of oourse an example 
which will be followed, and 
Mr. Punch has already had 


Junes. " Well, my little Man, what are rou thinking 
London Boy (who has never been out of Whiteehapel before), " I 
it's time tee Mother put ter into Trousers!" 

about ? " 
'm tbi skis' 

the following letter (amongst 
others), which he now prints 
with pleasure. 

Sir,— Owing to the Death 
Duties, I am no longer a rich 
man, but I have a little house 
in Piccadilly, not more than 
a twopenny 'bus ride from 
Charing Cross. It has occurred 
to me that some hungry work- 
ing-man might like to drop in 
to a quiet little dinner some 
night. I am a Duke, there- 
fore I say, comrades in depres- 
sion, you are welcome to my 
roof, if it '8 of any use to you. 
I can dine a hundred or so of 
you any or every night. All I 
stipulate for is that there shall 
be no speaking, for speaking 
bores me horribly. 


Rates, rates, rates, 

Of an exigent L. C. C. ! 
And I 'm glad they can't hear 
the language 
We utter so frequentlee ! 

well for the excellent Chair- 
man [bit ! 
For trying to reduce them a 
well for those Councillors 
wary [meats" sit! 
Who on costly "improve- 

And " demand-notes " still go 

on, [bled ; 

And our pockets are steadily 

But •* (we oft sigh) for a 

tenpenny rate, 

And the sins of a * Board* 

that is dead!" 

Rates, rates, rates ! 

Thanks, men of the L. C. C. ! 
We trust the farthing now 
taken off 

Will never go back to ye ! 

Scene — A Ball Room at the Mansion Home, 

He {resting). Good floor, isn't it ? 

She, Quite. But tell me. have you been attending the Congress ? 

He, Of course ; that is why I received an invitation to-night. 

She, And you found the lectures and all that most interesting P 

He, Yes, very ; and then there were the Opera and the theatres in 
the evening. 

She, But do let us talk about the Congress. Did you not discuss 

He, Discussed it very much indeed. So fortunate too that we 
had the meeting before everybody had left town. 

She, Yes. But did you not inquire into microbes and all that P 

He, Certainly; had a lot of talk about them, and finished them all 
up just in time not to interfere with Goodwood. 

She, And I suppose you found out the way to keep everyone in 
perfect health? 

He, That was the idea, and yet we floored Lords and the Oval. 

She, But oughtn't every town to be in a satisfactory condition ? 

He. Why, yes. But that depends upon the season of the year. Of 
course, some places are deadly dull when nothing 's going on from a 
social point of view. 

She, I mean from a health point of view— oughtn't everything 
nowadays to be simply excellent P 

He, Yes, of oourse. That 's the modern theory. 

She, And yet, according to the papers, London is full of fever and 

He. I daresay ; the Press men generally get their figures right. 

She. But if, theoretically, everything is right, why should most 
things be practically wrong P 

He, You must really ask me another. 

She, But you are strong upon health, are you not P 

He, Very— in the lecture-room. And now, if you are rested, we 
will have another turn. [Exeunt dancing. 



House of Commons, Monday, July 30.— Having settled Budget 
Bill, and, incidentally, brought Chancellor of Exchequer to 
Death's Door by observations on Death Duties, Tommy Bowles has 
time to turn his attention to another social question. Looks as if he 
were going to take the Bicycle Fiend by the scruff of the neck. 
Herein he has opportunity of deepening and enlarging his hold on 
affection and esteem of British public. Bicycle Fiend has increased, 
is increasing, and, at least, ought to be registered. He comes upon 
the hapless rider or pedestrian in quiet country lanes, brushing him 
aside as if the earth were the Fiend's and all the highways thereof. 
Bad enough in the country, where there is room to get out of the 
way. In crowded streets of metropolis, Fiend pounces round unsus- 
pected corners upon elderly gentlemen, scattering streams of peaceful 
passengers at peremptory sound of fearsome belL 

Tommy B. got his eye on him. Not without suspicion that this 
new departure has something to do with old, now closed, campaign 
against the Budget. Tommy warned the Sqtjibe whilst in Com- 
mittee that bis Death Duties would not reap the full harvest antici- 
pated. Every little helps. What with actual concussions and 
sudden frights, Biovole Fiend leads in oourse of financial year to 
considerable succession of propeity changing? on sudden death, with 
concurrent toll paid to Treasury. If the Bicycle Fiend can only be 
placed on same footing as the common carrier, or the harried 
hansom-cab driver, the death-rate would appreciable decrease, and 
with it the flow of legacy and succession duties. Tommy may or 
may not look thus far ahead. No matter, if he only succeeds in 
restraining a nuisanoe that is a disgrace to a civilised community. 

The Member for Babe tells me he has a Short Way with the B. F., 
which makes him to considerable extent indifferent to slower action 
of Home Secretary, who has evidently never had his shins barked 
by this agency. Sabe says when he takes his walks abroad he 
usually carries a stick or umbrella. When, crossing a road, he hears 
the tinkle of the Fiend's bell, insolently and imperatively ordering 



[August 11, 1894. 

him out of the 

. ' ' of fly- 
ing for his life, as is the use of the 

ray on pain of 
being: run over, he, instead of fly- 

ordinary citizen, carelessly throws 
stick or umbrella lance- wise across 
hollow of right or left arm, accord- 
ing as the Fiend approaches from 
one direction or the other. Thus 
armed he leisurely pursues his war. 
If the Fiend continues on the track, 
he will run with face or chest on 
to the point of the umbrella. As 
that would be inconvenient to him, 
he slows up or roes on another 
tack, and when he arrives home 
writes a letter to the Bicycling 
Blister, indignantly denouncing a 
street passenger who wouldn't get 
out of his way. 

Business done. — Vote on Account 
through Committee. 

Tuesday—" Prince Arthur," 
said Bask, looking across at the 
Front Opposition Bench whilst 
Courtney was speaking, " succeeds 
in hiding all traces of storm behind 
a smiling countenance. Joseph, 
on the contrary, more ingenuous, 
less acute in practice of worldly 
wiles, enables one to realise, even 
at this long distance of time, what 
Baulk, the son of Zippor, King of 
Moab, looked like when he stood 
in the high places of Baal, and lis- 
tened to Balaam's remarks on the 
motion for the time-closure to be 
applied to the Children of Israel, 
who had pitched their tents in 
the plains of Moab beyond the 
Jordan at Jericho, and declined to 
budge at the bidding of Balak." 


44 Shan't play," whimper Pbince 
Arthur and Joseph, minpling 
their tears at this fresh evidence 
of tyranny, this last illustration of 
man' 8 inh umani ty to man. 

Strike ordered in Unionist lines. 
Men throw down the pick ; hand in 
the shovel and the hoe ; put on their 
coats; hang about corners of Lobby 
in approved strike fashion. If 
Hahburt and the Blameless Bast- 
let could only be induced to stick 
short clay pipe in side of mouth 
(bowl downwards^ fasten a leather 
strap outside their trousers just 
below the knee, and drink four-half 
out of pewters at bar in the Lobby, 
scene would be complete. 

Strike only partial. Fully one 
half the men refuse to po out; 
stand by the masters, turning deaf 
ear to blandishments and threats 
of pickets outside. Strange thing 
is that, working at half strength, 
output more than doubled. Time- 
closure, with all hands at work, 
proposed to complete Committee 
by eleven o'clock next Tuesday 
night. At ten minutes past six 
this afternoon the whole thing 
through. Not hurried either. 
Thoroughly debated, divided on, 
and Bill, in more than one instance, 

44 Fact is" said the 8quire, 
beaming with chastened delight at 
turn events taken. * 4 we are over- 
manned just as London is over- 
cabbed. Must see if something 

John MorUy "You see it's all right, my little mm. I told you you J^^ "fonT to^reduce numbers 
needn't be frightened of htm. It was only his vapour. We're through v^ r If 11 „- n « . li«m-«, for frpah eleo- 

A«™«^ «f -P*n.1i.m«.4. w the Commons Sow ! Come along, and I'll leave you at the door of t&e ?l^^^S^^Lm^» 
Appearance of Parliamentary I/)rdll » # See how vou get on ther ' e » » tions when vacancies occur. m 

j_„x.-.ii_ . © Business done. — Evicted 

Tenants Bill through Committee. Building Societies Bill far 

Balaam on scene dramatically 

effective. Crowded House worked up to highest pitch of excitement 
by swift encounter, in which John Morley had followed Prince 
Arthur, and Joseph, springing in from behind, had clouted the 
Chief Secretary on the head. The Squire had moved time- 
closure on Evicted Tenants Bill in speech the studied tameness and 
provoking brevity of which had riled Opposition much more than if he 
had belaboured them with Harcourtian phrase. Sage of Queen 
Anne's Gate said a few words, preparatory to packing up for 
holiday ; then Courtney rose from Joseph's tide to continue debate. 
Members, taking it for granted that he, possibly with some reserva- 
tions in favour of Eviction Bill whose second reading he had sup- 
ported, was about to say ditto to Joseph on question of Closure, began 
to move towards door. Arrested by Courtney's solemn tone, and his 
expression of regret, evidently unfeigned, at deplorable condition in 
which the House found itself. **Woe to those through whom 
offences come 1 " cried Courtney in voice which, as he said, was of 
one crying in the wilderness, and seemed for its perfect effect to lack 
only hirsute garb, stave and honey pot. '•Through whom did the 
offence come ? Surely," continued the Prophet, bending shaggy eye- 
brows upon the bench where the Busy B's hive, " the offence lies 
with those Members who, disregarding the true uses, functions, 
duties, and high mission of the House, abuse their powers, intent to 
destroy possibility of the right conduct of public business." 

Not Ministers, then, with the Squire at their head, responsible for the 
deadlock, as Prince Arthur had painted the scene, and as Joseph 
had touched it up with stronger colour. It was the Busy Bees. 
They and " a junta of irresponsible landlords enforcing their will 
upon those who ought to resist them." 

Balaam ! Balaam ! M.P. for Bodmin. Was it for this Joseph 
led thee into the field of Zophini, to the top of Pisgah ? For this did 
PaiKCE Arthur build seven altars, and offer up the Squire of Max- 
wood on every one of them ? Long time since such a scene was 
wrought in the House. Saunderson pished and pshawed, and 
looked anxiously round for Logan. Bartley blushed ; Hanbury 
was hushed ; and a tear trickled down the pale cheek of Tommy 
Bowles— Cap* en no longer, disrated and denounced. 

Business done.— Time-Closure resolution carried. 

Thursday.— Such larks I Yesterday time-closure came into opera- 
tion in connection with Evicted Tenants BUI. Arranged that if 
debate on Clause I. not finished by eleven o'clock to-night, all 
Amendments remaining on paper shall be submitted to vote without 
further debate. Obstruction scotched : wriggles helplessly, like eel 
in muddy depths of river, smitten by the spear. 


Friday.— Back in the mud a pain. Strike operative only when 
Evicted Tenants Bill under consideration. That standing over now 
for Report Stage. Meanwhile take up again Equalisation of Rates 
Bill. Men on strike stream in, tired of " playing." Wonderful 
their eagerness to get to work again, their keen delight in sound of 
their own voices, so strangely intermitted. Bartley, Kimber, 
Fisher, Joeim, and the Woolwich Infant all here again, with 
Webster (of St. Pancras) wobbling all over the place, like a hen 
that has laid an eg* somewhere and can't for the life of her just at 
the minute think where she left it. 

Business done.— Hardly any. As Bartley says, " must make up 
for lost time when yesterday and day before work advanced by leaps 
and bounds." 

Crtptogrammatist Wanted. — After a plain matter-of-fact 
paragraph in the Daily Telegraph, stating that ** Lord Greville 
leaves town to-day for Harrogate 11 (to undergo the ** tonic sul-phur" 
cure, of course, i.e., of water-course), there appeared this mysterious 
announcement, " Lord Rowton leaves London to-day for some 
weeks." Now where is ** some weeks " ? Of course as his Lordship 
has quitted town for " some weeks, 1 ' he evidently prefers " some 
weeks, " wherever it is, to London. And that is all we know at 
present. Strange disappearance. Weird. 

Thb CosTtR Knight.— There are pictures on almost all the 
hoardings, in the suburbs especially, of the celebrated Mr. Albert 
Chevalier. This chevalier "sans peur et sans reproche" is so 
busy a man that in the best sense of the term he may well be con- 
sidered as the type of an honest " Chevalier d? Industrie." 

Query. — "The Lancashire Rubber Company "—is this some- 
thing new in the way of Massage P or is it a Company got up for 
the express purpose of supplying Society with Whist-players ? 

T^ 1 

The Latest Made of Honour at Richmond.— Sir James W. 
Szlumper, Knight. 

August 18, 1894.] 




(A Legend of the Results of the 
School Board.) 

The Committee sat waiting 
patiently for candidates. Al- 
though the papers had been 
full of advertisements describ- 
ing the appointments the 
reclames had had no effect. 
There were certainly a number 
of persons in the waiting-room, 
bat the usher had declared that 
they did not possess the ele- 
mentary qualifications for the 
post that the Committee were 
seeking to till with a suitable 

44 Usher," cried the Chair- 
man at length with some im- 
patience; "I am sure you 
must be wrong. Let us see 
some of the occupants of the 
adioining office." 

The usher bowed with a 
grace that had been acquired 
by several years study in de- 
portment in the Board School, 
and replied that he fancied 
that most of the applicants 
were too highly educated for 
the coveted position. 

44 Too highly educated!" 
exclaimed the representative 
of municipal progress. ** Itis 
impossible to be too highly 
educated! Ton don't know 
what you 're talking about ! " 

44 Pardon me, Sir," returned 
the Usher, with another grace- 
ful inclination of the head, 
44 but would not 4 imperfectly 
acquainted with the subject of 
your discourse' be more 
polished P But, with your 
permission, I will obey you." 

And then the official re- 
turned to usher in an aged man wearing spectacles. The veteran 
immediately fell upon his knees and began to implore the Com- 
mittee to appoint him to the vacant post. 

44 1 can assure you, Gentlemen, that, thanks to the School Board, 
I am a first-rate Latin and Greek scholar. I am intimately 
acquainted with the Hebrew language, and have the greatest pos- 
sible respect for the Union Jack. I know all that can be known 
about mathematics, and can play several musical instruments. I am 
also an accomplished waltzer ; I know the use of the globes, and 
can play the overture to Zatnpa on the musical-glasses. 1 know the 
works of Shakspea&e backwards, and " 

44 Stop, stop ! " interrupted the Chairman. ** Ton may do all this, 
and more ; but have you any knowledge of the modus operandi of 
the labour required of you r " 

44 Alas, no I" returned the applicant; "but if a man of educa- 
tion * 

4 "Remove him, Usher!" cried the Chairman ; and the veteran 
was removed in tears. 

A second, a third, and a fourth made their appearanoe. and disap- 
peared, and none of them would do. They were all singularly 

At length a rough man, who had been lounging down the street, 
walked into the Council-chamber. 

44 What may you want, Sir P " asked the Chairman, indignantly. 

" What 's that to you ? " was the prompt reply. ** I ainH a going 
to tell everyone my business —not me— you bet ! '' 

"Ungrammatioal!" said Committee Man No. One. "Tory pro- 

44 Uncouth and vulgar ! " murmured Committee Man No. Two. 

"Where were you educated P" queried the Chairman. 

* 4 Nowheres in particular. I was brought up in the wilds of 
Canada. There 's not much book learning over there," and the rough 
fellow indulged in a loud hoarse laugh. 

•' Ah ! that accounts for your not having enjoyed the great advan- 
tages of the School Board. Have you seem the circular— have you 
read the details of the proposed appointment P " 

M Me read!" cried the uncouth one; 44 oh, that is a game! 


Old Mayfly {who had dropped his Flask further down stream, and has just 
had it returned to him by Honest Rustic). " Dear me 1 Thank you 1 Thank 
you 1" {Gives him a Shilling.) " Don't know what I should ha* done 
without it I" {Begins to unscrew top.) "May I offer you a " 

Honest Rustic. "Well, thank y\ Sir, but me and my Mate, not 
skein* a Howneb about, we 've ta'en what there were inside." 

Why I can't read nor yet 

44 Better and better," said 
Committee Man No. One. 

44 First rate," murmured 
Committee Man No. Two. 44 I 
think we have at length found 
our ideal." 

Then the usher read the 

14 What! shake the hall 
mat!" cried the candidate. 
44 Why I could do that little 
job on my head!" 

So there being no other 
applicant for the post, the 
backwoods' ignoramus was 
appointed office-sweeper at a 
couple of hundred pounds a 

44 Rather high wages," said 
the Chairman to himself, as 
he went home on the top of 
an omnibus; 44 but what can 
one expect when we educate 
all the children at the cost of 
the rates. Last year there was 
an additional farthing; this 
year we have to pay five 
'shillings, and goodness only 
knows how much it will be 
hereafter ! " 

And as he thought this, the 
Chairman (in the names ot the 
rest of the ratepayers) heartily 
cursed the School Board. 



[A writer in the Lancet draws 
attention to the fact that the re- 
gular hospital nurse's uniform is 
now worn as ordinary ladies* 

There's no doubt my new 
costume is very becoming. I 
like the idea of the cape, and 
the apron is just perfect, while 
the little bonnet suits me to a 
T. Met cousin Feed, who said it was " fetching," and that 44 they 
wanted some of my sort at the hospitals." i said I thought the 
patients had good enough nurses at present : he replied 44 he didn't 
mean the patients— he meant the dootors.'' Of course I oouldn t 
stand the drudgery of a nurse's life ; but that 's no reason why I 
shouldn't appropriate the uniform, is it ? 

Walking down street. Met another nurse— a real one, I suppose. 
She stared, turned red, and then looked horribly offended. I believe 
she must have made some sign to me that I didn't understand. Are 
Nurses Freemasons, I wonder? Quite a secret society, it seems. 
Really that sort of thing oughtn't to be allowed. It makes things 
so awVward for the impost— the imitators, I mean. # 

Just got home after dreadful incident! I was in a Bayswater 
Square, when suddenly a man driving round a corner in a cart got 
upset, and was pitched on to the road close to me. A small crowd 
gathered immediately, and evidently expected me to help. One man 
shouted <4 Hi I Come and bind up his head, Miss I " And his head 
was actually bleeding: ! I couldn't do anything, except feel awfully 
inclined to faint, ana then the mob began to hiss and jeer ! Some- 
body said I must know how to render 44 first aid to the injured," 
and if I didn't oome quick the man would bleed to death. I was so 
frightened I ran away, and the mob ran after me, and I had to take 
shelter in a shop, and ask the shopman to explain to the crowd that 
I was not really a nurse at all. Then they used dreadful expressions, 
and I had to be got out by a back way. I don't think the costume is 
half as becoming as it seemed this morning ; I 'm going to sell it as 
a 44 cast-off garment." Lucky for me it wasn't a torn-off garment I 

Scott on the New Woman. 

{As the Wizard of the North would have written now.) 
New Woman! in our hours of ease 
A smoking rival hard to please, 
Wishing to put Man in the shade, 
Collar his togs and take his trade ; 
When pain and anguish wring the brow, 
A swaggering, 44 spanking " Pipchin thou 1 
_— . D i g i t i zod by VjUUVIL 



[August 18, 1894. 


1 Arf a pound sb Margarine, please ; an' Mother bats will tee put the Cow on 
it, 'c08 8hb 's got company 1 " 


(Adapted f reefy from the Old Bayed Repartee.) 

Middle-aged would-be Mountaineer (loq.). 

Fain would I climb, but,— well, my belt 's too 


Mr. Punch (in reply). 
If your girth grows, Sir, do not climb 

at all! 
Your Alpen-stock put by, ere the world 

And you become an (Alpine) Laughing-stock. 
Though Alps on Alps arise' you stop in bed, 
And let a younger man yon glaciers tread. 
The dangers of steep slides and deep 

Are uot for elderly donkeys, but youug asses. 
The Himalayas woo you still to pant on ? 
Well, treat 'em as you would an arch young 


Think of your legs, the boys, the girls, the 

And do not play the elderly Narcissus. 
To witch the world with noble "Ioemanship" 
Is tempting, yes. but if you chanoe to slip, 
Your bones a fathomless abyss may strew, 
An Alpine death,— and they'll all pine for 

Man after fifty fits Dot the sublime, a 
So stay at home nor seek a foreign climb. 
The plague of guide, and chum, and wife and 

Is Senez who will olimb and didn't oughter. 
Stick to your Alpine Club, but like old foodies. 
Pay, stop at home, and play at whist at 

j Boodles'. 
Decline with the old mania to be bitten, 

I And you will own this tip is diamond- written 
(Like good Queen Bess's repartee on glass), 
And that you 're saved from being an 

| old assl 


VI.— Kbw Gardens. 

In the gardens at Eew 
It were certainly sweet 
To be wand'ring with you, 
Far from city and street ; 
'Twere the one thiDg, dear Nellie, my joy 
and content to complete 

In the gardens at Eew. 

In the gardens at Eew, 
If my way I might take 
By tne water with you. 
Oh ! how merry we 'd make,— 
I am sure you would dote on the dear lit lie 
ducks in the lake 

In the gardens at Eew. 

In the gardens at Eew, 
Having tea a la f raises, 
We would cheerfully stew 
'Neath the fieroe solar rays, 
And in "eloquent silence" you'd meet my 
affectionate gaze 

In the gardens at Eew. 

In the gardens at Eew 
We would sit in the shade 
For an hour or two, 
Without chaperoDe's aid, 
And your head od my shoulder (who knows >) 
might be loviugly laid 

In the gardens at Eew. 

In the gardens at Eew, 
Far away from the crowd, 
Though I 'm longing for you, 
To stern Fate I have bowed : 
For it grieves me, dear Nf.lub, to tell you, 
" No dogs are allowed" 

In the gardens at Eew ! 


[" The Emperor (of China) is still cursed with 
the violent temper of his adolescence, and '* breaks 
things."—" Times" Correspondent at Pekin.] 

Oh ! is this announcement plain truth ? 

Or is it mere genial mockery ? 
And what does this choleric youth 

Of China thus breakers it crockery ? 
It does seem unfitting, you know— 

At least as we Westerners see things — 
That the lord of Souchong and Pekoe 

Should be guilty of smashing up tea-things ! 
Of course, if ne had an idea 

Of breaking the Japanese bondage, 
Or breaking their hold on Eorea,— 

Well, youth is a fiery and food age, 
And old age might fiod an excuse 

For breaking the peace ; but kiud wishes 
Can hardly invent an excuse 

For breaking the plates and the dishes. 
He is youthful, like little Ah Sid, 

It would be very mean to malign a 
Mere bov ; yet a true Chinese kid 

Should not start with the smashing of China ! 

The Cry of the (Literary) Croakers. 

Batbachians may doubt if King Stork or 
Eing Log [controller • 
Be the Frog-pond's most suitable lord ami 
But Grub Street's unfortunate unlauded frog 
Loathes v the rule of the new Eing Log- 


With " brain-fag " cur swift, feverish age is 

And death is oft the mere " fag-end " of life. 

Something like a "Pacxed Meeting." 
—The meeting of the various Arctic Expe- 
ditions in the Polar " 


August 18, 1894.] 






doubt you have seen an account of the examination of Caserio 
Santo dv the President of the Court on the occasion of his trial. 
Could not the idea be naturalised in London by the Metropolitan 
Police Magistrates? I would not, of course, propose to apply the 
method in cases of a serious character, but used in what are known 
as "the night charges," the practice would become very interest- 
ing. To better explain my meaning. I will imagine that a prisoner 
who has been arrested on a charge of being " drunk and incapable" is 
standing in front of his worship. 

Magistrate (with sarcasm). Tou are sober now. 

Prisoner {in the same tone). As a judge. 

Magistrate (indignantly). Judges are always sober. 

Prisoner (with a laugh). How should you know ?— you, who are 
only a magistrate I [Murmurs. 

Magistrate. You insult me ! Bat that will not serve you. Drink 
is.the curse of the country ! 

Prisoner. You have tried it? It has been a curse to you ! 

[Cries of disapproval. 

Magistrate. You are young to bandy words with one old enough 
to be your father ! 

Prisoner. My father I You my father ! What an honour ! 

Magistrate. I do not envy him ! Nor your mother ! 

Prisoner (excitedly). You shall not speak of my mother. My 
mother is sacred. She shall not be referred to in the tainted atmo- 
sphere of a Court of Justice. [Applause. 

Magistrate. This hypocrisy shall not serve ynu. You never loved 
your mother ! [Prolonged sensation. 

Prisoner. Your worship, vou are a liar ! " [Loud cheers. 

Magistrate. This to the Bench from the gutter ! For you know 
you were found drunk and incapable in the gutter. What were you 
doing there P 

Prisoner (tearfully). I was dreaming of my mother, my loved 
mother. [Sympathetic applause. 

Magistrate. You do not deserve to have a mother ! 

[Prolonged sensation. 

Prisoner (scornfully). Only a magistrate could make such a cold- 
blooded observation! [Cheers. 

Magistrate. For all that you are lined five shillings and costs! 
Remove the wretched prisoner! 

[The accused was then removed amidst expressions of sympathy 
from the body of the Court, 
There, Sir, would not that be far better reading than paragraphs 
about gigantic gooseberries and leaders upon the sea serpent? 
Perhaps my suggestion may be adopted in the proper quarter. 
Hoping that this may be the oase, the police case, 
I remain, Yours respectfully, 

The Man js the Reporter's Box. 


(New Version.) 

" Let Art and Commerce. Laws and Learning die, 
But leave us still our Old Nobility ! " 
Without them, in our democratic day, 
Who will the part of princely patriot play P 
Who else will Keep a splendid Family Seat, 
And claim— for its defence— a mighty Fleet P 
Who else will make Bank Holidays a joy 
To wandering workman and to wondering boy ? 
Who else will rear big fortunes upon Rent, 
Or palaces on Unearned Increment ? 
Monopolise art's treasures and life's pleasures, 
And throw out dangerous democratic measures ? 
Who else will keep up England's glorious name ? 
Who else preserve her prestige— and her game ? 
Who else will wear the purple and the ermine, 
And proudly stamp out Socialistic vermin ? 
Who else in one grand field-day, 'midst the Peers, 
Undo the labours of ignoble years P 
Who else in solemn ranks, like three-tailed Turks, 
Defend the power of Privilege aud Perks P 
And 'tis these most magnanimous Mamelukes, 
Our patriot Earls and foe-defying Dukes, 
A traitorous Chancellor would dare to— Tax ! ! ! 
Ah ! where 's the dungeon, and oh ! where 's the 

Noblesse oblige ! But sure the obligation 
Cannot involve that horror, Graduation ! 
Is't not enough to rule, and guide, and bless, 
And soar as shining samples of Success ? 
While with our Nobles England's glory waxes, 
The Proletariat 's proud tc— pay the Taxes ! 



[August 18, 1894. 


(A Story in Scenes.) 


Scene XII.— The Amber Boudoir at Wyvern — immediately 
after Lady Cantibe and her daughter have entered. 

pretty little Lady Maisib's annexed Attn. Can't yon content your- 
self with one viotim P 

Mite Speho. Don 't be so utterly idiotic 1 (To herself.) If Maisib 
imagines she 's to be allowed to monopolise the only man in the room 
worth talking to ! 

Captain Thicknesse (to himself, as he watches Lady Maisie). She is 
lookin' prettier than ever! Forgotten me. Used to be friendly enough 
onoe, though, till her mother warned me off. Seems to have a good 

Lady Cantire (in reply to Lady Culvebiw). Tea? oh yes, my dear, vuvo , uw^u, ku* u <» wviuu muuw «*» v **. ^mo w **»»« - ow ~ 

tything trarm / Pm positively perished — that tedious cold deal to say to that Poet fellow ; saw her oolour up from here the 

journey and the long drive afterwards ! I always tell Rupert he moment he came near ; he's beaun Petrarchin', hanff him ! I 'd cross 

over and speak to her if I could 7 catch her eye. Don* t know, though ; 
what's the use P She wouldn't thank me for interruptin'. She 

would see me far oftener at Wyvern if he would only get the Com- 
pany to bring; the line round close to the Park Gates, but it has no 
effect upon him ! (As Teed well announces Spubeell, who enters 

in trepidation.) Mr. Jakes Spubeell! Who's Mr. P Oh, to 

be sure ; that 's the name of my interesting young poet — Andromeda, Aldershot ! 
you know, my dear ! Go and be pleasant to him, Albinia, he wants Lady Cant, (by the tea-table). Why don't you make that woman 
reassuring. j of yours send you up deoent cakes, my dear P These are cinders. 

Ladyl Culverin (a trifle^ nervous). How do you do, Mr. — ah— I'm afraid you let her have too much of ner own way. _Now, tell me 

likes these olever chape ; don't signify to her if they are bounders, 
I suppose. J'm not intellectual Gad, I wish I 'd gone back to 

Spubeell ? (To herself.) I said he 
ended in " 'ell"! (Aloud.)" So pleased 
to see you ! We think so much of your 
Andromeda here, you know. Quite 
delightful of you to find time to run 

Spurrell (to himself). Why she 's 
chummy, too ! Old Drummy pulls me 
through everything ! (Aloud!) Don't 
name it, my la— hum— Lady Cul- 
vebiw. No trouble at all: only too 
proud to get your summons ! 

Lady Culv. (to herself). He doesn't 
seem very revolutionary ! (Aloud.) 
That 's so sweet of you ; when so many 
must be absolutely fighting to get you ! 

Spurr. Oh, as for that, there is 
rather a run on me just now, but I put 
everything else aside for you^oi course ! 

Lady Culv. (to herse(f). He 's soon 
reassured. (Aloud, unth a touch of 
frost.) I am sure we must consider 
ourselves most fortunate. (Turning 
to the Countess.) You did say cream, 
Rohesia P Sugar, Maisix dearest P 

Spurr. (to himself). I'm all right 
up to now! I suppose I'd better say 
nothing about the horse till they do. 
I feel rather out of it among these 
nobs, though. I '11 try and chum on 
to little Lady Maisix again ; she may 
have got over her temper by this time, 
and she's the only one I know. (He 
approaches her.) Well, Lady Maisib, 
here I am, you see. I 'd really no idea 
your aunt would be so friendly! I 
say, you know, you don't mind speak- 
ing to a fellow, do you P I ' ve no one 
else I can go to— and— and it 's a bit 
strange at first, you know ! 

Lady Maisie [coloured unth mingled 
apprehension, vexation, and pity). If 
I can be of any help to you, Mr. 
Spubeell ! 

Spurr. Well, if you'd only tell me llxg , , 

what I ought to do? "Mykeye! 

Ladu maisie. Surely that's very simple; do nothing; just take 
everything quietly as it comes, and you canH make any mis- 

Spurr. (anxiously). And you don't thiok anybody '11 see anything 
odd in my being here like this P 

Lady Maisie (to herself). I 'm only too afraid they will ! (Aloud.) 
You really must have a little self-confidence. Just remember that 
no one here could produce anything a millionth part as splendid as 
your Andromeda: It's too distressing to see you so appallingly 
humble! (To herself.) There's Captain Thicknesse over there— he 
might come and rescue me ; but he doesn't seem to care to ! 

Spurr. Well, you do put some heart into me, Lady Maisie. I feel 
equal to the lot of 'em now ! 

PiUiner (to Miss Spelwajte). Is that the Poet? Why, bat I say 
—he '8 a fraud ! Where 's his matted head P He 's not a bit ragged, 
or rusty either. And why don't he dabble P Don't seem to know 
what to do with his hands quite, though, does he P 

Miss Spelwane (coldly). He knows how to do some very exquisite 
poetry with one of them, at all events. I 've been reading it, and I 
think it perfectly marvellous ! 

Pill. 1 see what it is, you 're preparing to turn his matted head 
for him? I warn you you'll only waste your sweetness. That 

—who are your party f Vivlbbt Spel- 
wane ! Never nave that girl to meet 
me again, I can't endure her; and 
that affected little ape of a Mr. Pil- 
lineb — h'm! Do I see Captain 
Tmi o kje ssb P Now, I don't object to 
him. Maisib and he used to be great 
friends. . . . Ah, how do you do, Cap- 
tain Thicknesse P Quite pleasant 
finding you here ; such ages since we 
saw anything of you ! Why haven't 
you been near us all this time P . . . 
Oh, I may have been out once or twice 
when you called ; but you might have 
tried again, mightn't you P There. /for- 
give you ; you had better go and see if 
you can make your peace with Maisie ! 
Capt. Thick, (to himself, as he 
obeys). Doosid odd, the Countess oomin* 
round like this. Wish she 'd thought 
of it before. 

Lady Cant, (in a whisper). He's 
always been such a favourite of mine. 
They tell me his uncle, poor dear Lord 
Dundbbhead, is so ill — felt the loss 
of his only son so terribly. Of course 
it will make a great difference— in 
many ways. 

Capt. Thick, (constrainedly to Lady 
Maisie). How do you doP Afraid 
you 've forgotten me. 

Ladu Maisie. Oh no, indeed ! ( Hur- 
riedly?) You— you don't know Mr. 
Spubeell, I think? (Introducing 
them.) Captain Thicknesse. 

Capt. Thick. How are youP Been 
hearin' a lot about you lately. Andro- 
meda, don't you know ; ana that kind 
of thing. 

Spurr. It 's wonderful what a hit she 
seems to have made— not that I 'm sur- 
prised at it, either : I always knew 

Lady Maisie (hastily). Oh, Mr. 
Spubeell, you haven't had any tea! 
Do go and get some before it 's taken 
away. [Spubeell goes. 

Capt. Thick. Been tryin' to get you to notice me ever since you 
came ; but you were so awfully absorbed, you know ! 
Lady Maisie. Was I P So absorbed as ail that ! What with P 
Capt. Thick. Well, it looked like it— with talkin' to your poetical 

Lady Maisie (flushing). He is not my friend in particular ; I— I 
admire hispoetry, of course. 

Capt. Thick, (to himself \. Can't even speak of him without 
a change of oolour. Bad sign that! (Aloud.) You always were 
keen about poetry and literature and that in the old days, weren't 
you P Used to rag me for not readin' enough. Bat I do now. I was 
readin' a book only last week. I '11 tell you the name if you give me 
a minute to think— book everybody 's readin' just now — no end of a 
clever book. [Miss Spelwane rushes across to Lady Maisie. 

Miss Spelw. Maisie, dear, how are youP You look so tired! 
That 's the journey. I suppose. ( Whispering.) Do tell me— is that 
really the author of Andromeda drinking tea close by P You 're a 

freat friend of his. I know. Do be a dear, and introduce him to me ! 
declare the dogs have made friends with him already. Poets have 
such a wonderful attraction for animals, haven't they P 

[Lady Maisie has to bring Spubeell up and introduce him : 
Captain Thicknesse chooses to consider himself dismissed. 

Why, what do you want them for P " 

August 18, 1894. 



Miss Svelte, (with shy adoration). Oh, Mr. Spurrell, I feel as if 
I must talk to you about Andromeda. I did so admire it ! 

Spurr. (to himself). Another of 'em! They seem uncommonly 
sweet on " bulls " in this house ! {Aloud.) Very glad to hear you 
say so t I 'm sure. I 've seen nothing to touch her myself. I don't 

know if you noticed all her points Y 

Miss Spelw. Indeed, I believe none of them were lost upon me ; 
but my poor little praise must seem so worthless and ignorant ! 

Spurr. (indulgently). Oh, I wouldn't say that. I find some ladies 

very knowing about these things. I'm haying a picture done 

of her. 

Miss Spelw. Are you really P How delightful! As a frontispiece:' 

Spurr. Eh Y Oh no—fall length, and sideways— so as to show her 

legs, you know. 

Miss Spelw. Her legs ? Oh, of course— with ** her rosea! toes 
cramped.'' I thought that such a wonderful touch ! 

Spurr. They 're not more cramped than they ought to be ; she 
never turned them in } you know ! 

Miss Spelw. bnysttfied). I didn't mean that. And now tell me— if 
it's not an indiscreet question— when do you expect there'll be 
another edition ? 

Spurr. {to himself). Another addition ! She 's cadging for a pup 
now! (Aloud.) On— er— really — couldn't say. 

Miss Spelw. I 'm sure the first must be disposed of by this time. 
I shall look out for the next so eagerly ! 

Spurr. (to himself). Time I " off " ed it. (Aloud.) Afraid I can't 
say anything definite— and, excuse me leaving you, but I think 
Lady Culvirin is looking my way. 

Miss Spelw. Oh, by all means ! (To herself.) I might as well 
praise a pillar-post ! And after spending quite half an hour reading 
him up, too ! I wonder if Bertie Pilltner was right ; but I shall 
have him all to myself at dinner. 

Lady Cant. And where is Rupert P too busy of course to come 
and say a word ! Well, some day he may understand what a sister 
is— when it 's too late. Ah, here 's our nice unassuming young poet 
coming up to talk to you. Don't repel him. my dear! 

Spurr. (to himself). Better give her tne chance of telling me 
what '8 wrong with the horse, I suppose. (Aloud.) Er— nice old- 
fashioned sort of house this, Lady Culvertn. (To himself.) I'll 
work round to the stabling presently. 

Lady Culr. (coldly). I believe it dates from the Tadors— if that is 
what you mean. 

Lady Cant. My dear Albinia, I quite understand him ; " old- 
fashioned " is exactly the epithet. And I was born and brought up 
here, so perhaps I should know. 

[A footman enters, and comes up to Spurrell mysteriously. 
Footman. Will you let me have your keys, if you please, Sir ? 
Spurr. (in some alarm). My keys ! (Suspiciously.) Why, what do 
you want them for Y 

Lady Cant, (in a whisper). Isn't he deliciously unsophisticated? 
Quite a child of nature! (Aloud.) My dear Mr. Spubrell, he 
wants your keys to unlock your portmanteau and put out your 
things ; you '11 be able to dress for dinner all the quicker. 

Spurr. Do you mean— am I to have the honour of sitting down 
with all of you t 

Lady Culr. (to herself). Oh, my goodness, what tciU Rupert 
sav? (Aloud.) Why, of course, Mr. Spurrell; how can you 

Spurr. (feebly). I— 1 didn't know, that was all. (To Footman). 
Here you are, then. (To himself.) Pat out my things Y he'll find 
nothing to put out except a nightgown, sponge Dag, and a couple of 
brushes ! If I 'd only known I should be let in for this, I 'd have 
brought dress- clothes. But how could I Y I— I wonder if it would be 
any good telling 'em quietly how it is. I shouldn't like 'em to think 
I hadn't got any. (lie looks at Lady Cantire and her sister-in-law, 
who are talking in an undertone.) No, perhaps I'd better let it 
alone. I— I can allude to it in a joky sort of way when I come 


T" Fry of Wadham," illustrious all-round athlete of Oxford, holds that 
Golf is no better than " glorified Croquet"] 

Oh, Fry of Wadham, you 've opened your mouth, 
And " put your foot in it ! " Here in the South, 
Talked to death by wild golfers, we 're likely to cry 
Hooray, to see Link-lovers roasted by Fry. 
Golf-glorification 'b a terrible tax on 
The muscular Cricketing, Footballing Saxon. 
To whom thegame seems just a little bit pokey. 
But Fry of Wadham, Sir, " glorified Croquet r ' ! 
Champion of Champions, you 're going to catch it ! 
Each man loves his sport, swears no other can match it 
Chacun d son gout ! And he 's rather to blame 
Who 's prompt to make game of another man's Game ! 


(By Our Dyspeptic Poet.) 

Whew the doctor's stern decree 
Rings the knell of libertee, 
And dismisses from my sight 
All the dishes that delight ; 
When my temperature i* nigh— 
When to pastry and to pie 
Duty bids me say farewell, 
Then I hail thy fragrant smell! 

When the doctor shakes his head, 
Banning wine or white or red, 
And at all my well-loved joints 
Disapproving finger points ; 

When my poultry too he stops, 
Then, reduced to taking 4 * slops," 
I, for solace and relief. 
Fly to thee, Tea of Beef ! 

But— if simple truth I tell — 
I can brook thee none too well ; 
Thy delights, Bovine Tea, 
Have no special charm for me ! 
Though thou oomest piping hot, 
Oh, believe I love thee not ! 
Weary of thy gentle reign- 
Give me oysters and champagne ! 


Dear Mr. Punch.— Thanks to the action of the Circulating 
Libraries, it seems that the old-fashioned three-volume novel is 
doomed to become a work of the past. Most of the popular writers 
have abandoned it, and now the publishers are beginning to fight 

shy of it. The principal argument, 
I believe, in favour of its retention 
is that it gives a chance to " the 
little read.'' The Circulating Libra- 
ries are called upon to fill boxes 
intended for the edification of sub- 
scribers in the country, and in 
these receptacles of light literature 
I believe the unpopular authors 
-" have their greatest chance. But 
... as a matter of fact, although a 
^" romanoe may be sent to a peruser, 
^ it is not within the scope of civili- 
sation to cause that romanoe to be 
&& read. According to statistics I be- 
s^ lieve about sixty per cent of the 
V JT . second and third rate is only 
^U- sampled by the recipients of the 
s aforesaid boxes. The last couple 
of pages of the third volume are 
^ largely read, whilst the remainder 
"* of the work is saved from the 
labours of the paper-knife. As this is so, would it not be as well to 
give a " common form" finale to serve as a model for novels t>< 
extremis t To make my meaning plainer I will give an example. 

Let me suppose that tne country subscriber has received a novel per 
parcels post called The Deed in Drab. Instead of having to cut some 
nine hundred pages, he finds gummed to the inside of the cover what 

I may call 
The Last Chapter. 

And so amidst the joy bells of the old church and the songs of the 
nightingales, and the pleasant laughter of the little children, Edwin 
and Angelina were married. As they passed under the oaken porch 
the Duke jrave them his blessing. Need it be said they lived happily 
—like a prince and a princess in fairy tale— for ever after ? 

Captain Montmorency Guilt, kicked out of his club and warned off 
the Turf at Newmarket, left England with his ill-gotten gains for 
Cairo. Arrived in Egypt, he disappeared into the Soudan. Those 
of the Arabs who came from the desert declare that there is a white 
ruler in Khartoum. Whether it be he, who knows Y Still, the stories | 
of cruelty brought back by the swarthy traders are not unsuggestive ! 
of the man who brought poor Pauline to her grave and broke the ] 
Bank at Monte Carlo. 

Edward Watts did marry Mart Beetles, and they are now doing 
well at Little Pannington. The village all-sorts shop has grown into a 

II Stores," and those who are in the know say that at a near date it 
will be converted into a " Company, Limited." Be this as it may, 
Edward and Mart drive to ohapel in their own gig. 

And what became of Paul Peterson? Overwhelmed with the 
secret sorrow that could never be shared by another, he went his 
way to the wilds of Australia. And there, under the starlight 
influence of the Southern Cross, and amidst the glorious glaciers of 
the Boomerang Mountains, he tries to forget the terrible and half- 
forgiven details of the " Deed in Drab." 

The End. 

There, Sir, you have the ending of ninety-nine novels out of 
a possible hundred. In the hands of an experienced writer the 
sentences might be so adapted as to meet the requirements of the 
book completing the oentury. 8urely the suggestion is worthy of 
the attention of a Mudie, and the consideration of a W. H. Smith 
Yours faithfully, Multfm in Pabvo. 



[August 18, 1894. 


Mr. "And how old are you, diae Child!" 

Little Miss, •■ I should like to say I 'm eight— but Mamma won't let me ! * 


Am Odb to the Dutch C&iceetebj. 

Aib— ** Ye Mariners of England." 
Ye Gentlemen of Holland 

That guard your native stumps, 
Ye oome to bat on wickets damp, 

And block the ball that bumps. 
The " glorious game" you play amain, 

And may you match the foe ; 
And smite left and right. 

While the balls for " boundaries " go ; 
While your batsmen run 'em fast and long, 

Acd the balls for " boundaries" go ! 

The spirits of your fathers 

Should watch you from the wave ! — 
The brine, it was their field of fame ; 

On turf you 're just as brave. 
As Van Tromp's and Db Rttttxr's did 

Your manly breasts must glow 
As vou smite left and right, 

While the balls for •' boundaries " i 
Vnilst the batsmen 
And the balls for " boundaries ' 


Whilst the batsmen run 'em fast and long, 
And the balls for " boundaries " go ! 

BBiTAiariA loves to encounter 

Her ancient foes—in peace. 
Our march is to the wickets green, 

Our home is at the crease. 
With volleys from her native wood 

She meets the f rieadly foe, 
As they smite left and right, 

And the balls for " boundaries " go ; 
While the batsmen run 'em fast and long, 

And the balls for " boundaries " go ! 


The willows of old England, 
Patch willows shall not spurn ! 

Your team we 'U oheer when they depart, 

We '11 welcome their return ! 
Then, then ye willow- warriors, 

Our song and feast shall flow 
To the fame of your name, 

When to Holland back ye go : 
When the shout " How's that P " is heard 
no more, 

And to Dutchland back ye go ! 


Or, The Wilful Markee. 

[" The Home of Lords, for some reason, always 
assumes special care of Ireland, a fact which may 
account for a few of the curiosities of Irish political 
and domestic economy." — Mr. Punch** Essence of 
Parliament, June 3, 1861.] 

Aie— " Widow Machree." 

Wilful Markee, it ' s loike f h under ye frown, 
Ochone! Wilful Markee ! 

Faith ye'd plase ver proud Parthy by kicking 
me down, 
Ochone! Wilful Markee ! 

How hauphty your air, 

As you kick me down-stair ! 

Faix, I wondber ye dare 
In this oisle of the free ! 

Ooh, ye autocrat churl. 

Me poor head 's in a whirl. 

Ochone! Wilful Markee ! 

Wilful Markee, Oireland's chance is now come, 

Ochone! Wilful Markee ! 
Whin everything smoiles must the Tories 
look glum P 
Ochone! Wilful Markee ! 
Sure the Commons, wid prayers, 
Have sint me upstairs ; 
Who is it that dares 

WM me frrra disagree? 

DonH haughtily pish 

At ould Oireland s last wish ! 

Ochone! Wilful Markee! 

Wilful Markee, whin a Bill enters in. 

Ochone! Wilful Markee ! 
To be kicking it out in this stoyle is a sin. 

Ochone! Wilful Markee ! 
Surely hammer and tongs 
To bad ould days belcn rs ; 
Far betther sing songs 
Full of family glee. 
Oireland's bad bitter cap 
Do not harshly fill up, 

Ochone. Wilful Markee! 

And do ye not know wid yer bearing so 
bould, — 
Ochone! Wilful Markee ! 
How ye 're kaping the poor tinants out in the 
Ochone! Wilful Markee! 
Wid such sins on your head, 
Sure your peace will be fled ; 
Couldyou siape in your bed 
Widout thinking to see 
My ghost or my sprite 
That will wake ye each night 

Groaning Ochone ! Witful Markee ! 

Then take my advice haughty Wilful 
Ochone! Wilful Markee ! 
And loike " Compensation Bill" do not 
trate me ! 
Ochone! Wilful Markee! 
Of stroife we all tire, 
Then why stir the ould fire P 
Sure hope is no liar 

In whisperin' to me, 
Hate's ould ghost will depart 
When you win Oireland's heart ! 
Ochone! Wilful Markee 





igitized by 


Digitized by 


Augubt 18, 1894.] 





{Per favour of Mr. Punch.) 

Mr. Punch. So you 've not been signalling to Mother Earth, after 
all. my noble Warrior ? 

Mars (with a wink). What do you think? Why should I dig 
canals 100 miles wide, and 2,000 miles long, or build bonfires as big 
as Scotland, when I can always communicate what I may have to say 
through you ? 

Because Mars looks spotty or misty, 
Some dreamers, with intellects twisty, 
Imagine, old horse, 
Mars is playing at Morse ! 
All bosh ! You ask Dyson or Christie. 

Mr. Punch. Mr. Maun deb " has you under his special charge," 
hasn't he? 

Mars. Much obliged to Mr. Maunder, I 'm sure ! Wants to take 
my photo, doesn't he ? As if I were a mere politician, a popular 
comedian, or 'Abbibt at the seaside on a Bank Holiday ! 

Mr. Punch. Have you anv Bank Holidays in your planet ? 

Mars. Thank Sol, Mr. Punch, we hare outlived the epoch of 
taking our pleasure in spasms, like your cockney victims of the 
vulgar voluptuary's St. Vitus' s dance ! 

Mr. Punch. Don't be uppish, old man ! 'Tis an ill-bred ajre of 
Kodaks, and Interviews, ana other phases of popular Paul Pryism. 
But you've had your ignominious moments, Mars. If a "snap- 
shot'' could have "been taken at you when held prostrate, chained, 
and captive, at the feet of Otus and Ephialtes, or, still worse, when 
caught with Venus in the iron net of Vulcan : — 

All heaven beholds, imprison'd as they lie, 
And unextinguish'd laughter shakes the sky. 

Mars. Spare me, excellent Punch. Eugh ! Thank heaven 
Olympus knew no Kodaks then, or " the gay Apollo " would yet 
longer have had the laugh of me. 

Mr. Punch. Pardon me for awaking unpleasant memories ! But 
even gods should not be bumptious, especially when, like the Second 
Mrs. Tanqueray, they " have a past." 

Mars. Well, anyhow I 've been able to baffle the camera- wielders 
up to now. My ruddy countenance and "bluish radiance" have 
beaten Greenwich, and even licked the Lick ! As they themselves 
admit, " Mars up to the present has defied cameral detection." 

Mr. Punch. But what about those " bright spots" ? 

Mars. Have you no *' bright spots" even on your dull and foggy 
old planet ? I have often noticed one at 85, Fleet Street. In June 
and December it emits thousands of brilliant sparks of a " bluish 
radiance," too. But I don't jump to the conclusion that you are 

" signalling " to me. Look, the naked eye can see the Punchian 
"projection lumineuse" even from here ! 

Mr. Punch. I do not have to " signal " my messages to " Hellas " 
or "Lockyer's Land" by canals or "ten million arc lights of 
100,000 candle-power apiece." Like the Sun, I am self-luminous, 
and do not. like the finest planets, shine by reflected light. 

Mars. True for you. And from your own intellectual observatory, 
like Teufelsdroeckh " alone with the stars," you ofttimes scan the 
heavens when, as Longfellow says :— 

" the first watch of night is given 

To the red planet Mars." 

[Murmurs musingly* 

Thou beckonest with thy mailed hand, 
And I am strong again. 

The star of the unconquered will 

He rises in my breast. 
Serene, and resolute and still, 

And calm, and self-possessed. 

Mr. Punch. Precisely ! 

And earnest thoughts within me rise 

When I behold afar, 
Suspended in the evening skies 

The shield of that red star. 

A stai of strength ! I see thee stand 
And smile upon my pain ; 

Mars. Ah yes ! that 's all very pretty and poetical, and I 'm muoh 
obliged to Henry Wadsworth and the other bards who have lyric- 
ally glorified me. But Punch, old man, you and I know better ! 
Mother Earth has ever paid, and payeth still, far too muoh worship 
to Mars— the Mars of her own militant f anoy. To tell you the truth, 
Punch t I 'm sick of my old mHier } especially since Science stepped in 
and bedevilled it past bearing with ner big guns, and dynamite- 
bombs, and treacherous torpedoes; weapons more fit for grubby 
Vulcan's subterranean Cyclops than a god, a gentleman and a soldier 
like me. 

Mr. Punch. Hoho ! That 's the way the ( Locktee' b) land lies, eh ? 

Mars. Exactly. I wasn't signalling to vour stupid, conservative, 
bellicose old world, which, like the Bourbons, learns nothing ana 
forgets nothing. Could I write in plain Titanic capitals across a 
thousand square miles of my smoothest surface Mars s Straight Tip 
to Mother Earth, viz. :— 


what effect would it have on any of you, from civilised England, 
with you to enlighten it, to the furious fighting dragons who are 
tearing each other in the eastern seas ? None ! But ii any of your 
quidnuncs really want to know what I would say if I did signal, 
tell them old Mars, grown wiser, has turned ud War ; has nailed 
his raven to a barn-door as a warning ; has made a pet of Peace's 
soft-plumed dove ; and strongly advises the belligerent boobies on 
earth who take his old name in vain, and play his abandoned game 
still, to — go and do likewise J ! ! 
Mr. Punch. By the cestus of Venus, and so I will ! ! ! 



[August 18, 1894. 


(By a Sympathetic, but Super- 
ficial Observer,) 

Oh I the hardest of hearts some 

compassion must feel 
For that modern Ixion, the 

Man on the Wheel ! 
See him scouring the roads on 

his spindly-spoked spider, 
Dust-hid till you scarce tell 

the " bike " from its rider; 
His abdomen shrunken, his 

shoulders up-humped,J 
With the gaping parched lips 

of one awfully pumped. 
Could a camel condemned to 

the treadmill look worse ? 
Sure those lips/ could he close 

them, would shape to a curse 
On his horrible doom ! As I 

Wjaze and stand by, 
ith a pang at my heart, and 
a tear in my eye. 

I think of Ixion, the Wander- 
ing Jew, 

That Cork-legged Dutchman 
—the Flying One, too, 

And other poor victims of piti- 
less speed ; 

And I own, while their cases 
were frightful indeed t 

The Bicyclist's fate is the 
worser by far. 

Poor soul! I! The small "pub," 
and a "pull" at the "bar,** 

Appear your best comfort. 
Imagine the cheer 

Of a slave of the "bike" 
whose sole solace is beer ! 

You can't see the prospect; 
your eyes are cast down 

Like BumrA* |8 Muck-raker ; 
your brows in a frown 

Of purposeless effort are woe- 
fully Knit; 
Of Nature's best charms you 

perceive not a bit., 
The hedge your horizon, the 

long, dusty road 
Is your sole point of eight. 

Wretched victim, what goad 
Of Fate, or sheer folly, thus 

urges you on ? 
Old torments— like poor Io's 

gadfly— are gone, 
And yet, like Orestes, the 

Fury- whipped, you 
Wheel on, as some comet 

wheels on through the blue 
In billion-leagued cycles less 

dreary than is 
The cycle on which round the 

wide world you whiz ! 
Eh? Cutting a record 9 You 

like it? The goose!!! 
A task without pleasure, a toil 

without use ! 
Poor soul! You are worse than 

Ixion, I feel, 
For he was not tied by himself 

to the wheel ! 


• What a stupid Paper this is, Robert 1 Not a word about 
You in it ! " 

The Plaint of the Un- 
willing Peer. 

From my M.P.'s seat I— oh, 
the pity ! — must move. 
I am one of Rank's sorrowful 
For the Commons Fate bids me 
dissemble my love, 
But why did she kick me 
upstairs ? 

On Tick.— The Modern 
Novel is a blend of the Erotic, 
the Neurotic, and the Tommy- 


Antwerp— H you are not tired of Exhibitions. 
Boulogne — if you don't mind the mud of the port. 
Cologne— if you are not particular about the comfort of your nose. 
Dieppe— if you like bathing in the foreign 

Etretat—ii solitude has commanding 

Florence — if you are partial to 100° in the 
Genoa— if you have no objection to mos- 
r/ , qui toe*. 

Wf Heidelberg— \i you are not tired of the 
everlasting castle. 

Interlacken— if the Jungfrau has the 
advantage of novelty. 

Java— if you wish to eat its jelly on the 
Kandahar— ii you are not afraid of Afghan treachery. 
Lyons— if you are fond of riots and emeutes. 
Marseilles— ii you are determined to do the Chateau D'lf . 
Naples— it you are anxious to perform an ante-mortem duty. 
Ouchy— if you like it better than Lausanne. 
Paris— if you have not been there for at least a fortnight. 
Quebec— if you are qualifying for admission to a lunatic asylum. 
Borne— ii you have never had the local fever and want to try it. 
Strasbourg —ii you are hard up for an appropriate destination. 
Turin— if it is the only town you have not seen in Italy. 
Uig—ii you affect the Isle of Skye in a thunder-storm. 
Venice — if you scorn stings and evil odours. 
Wiesbaden — if you can enjoy scenery minus gambling. 
Yokohama— if you are willing to risk assault and battery* 
Zurich— ii you can think of no other place to visit. 

N.B. — The above places are where to go on the keep-moving- 
tourist plan. But when you want to know '* Where to Stat,"— we 
reply, 4l At Home." 

( To be Translated as Required. ) 

Why have you thrown my boxes down with such violence that 
their contents have become distributed on the platform P 

Why is it necessary to strike me on the head with a stick because 
I am taking my proper place at the ticket-office P 

Why have you refused to give me change for a 
sovereign, minus the eighteenpenoe you have the 
right to charge for my fare ? 

Why do you close the door of communication when 
I offer a remonstrance P 

Why can I not obtain redress upon complaint to the 
station-master P 

Why am I ohased off the premises by a private 
policeman when I am anxious to catch the next train ? 

Why is my luggage being placarded with places 
that certainly do not correspond with my desired 
destination P 

Why can I not have my tea cool enough to drink P 
and why I am hurried out of the refreshment-room 
before I can discuss my bread and butter P 

Why must I pav half-a-orown for comestibles valued on the card 
at less than a shilling P 

Why am I forced into a carriage already overcrowded with aged 
females, sickly children, and snarling spaniels ? 

Why can I not have a seat, considering I have paid the full fare, 
and amply tipped the guard P 

Why can I not have a window open, considering that the glass 
stands at ninety in the shade P 

Why can I not smoke, having chosen a smoking carriage P 

Why should I be dictated to by a disagreeable and elderly 
stranger, who snores half the journey, and helps herself to ardent 
spirits in the tunnels P 

Why should I be threatened with imprisonment, and be only 
pardoned by repaying my fare because I have lost my ticket P 

And, lastly (for the present), why have I been carried to Little 
Peddlington-on-the-Ditch when I desired to reach the British Coast 
en route for Paris P 

August 18, 1894.] 




III.— The Rime op the Ancient 

{Being a Record of the 12M.) 

It was an ancient poacher-man, 
Bronzed as a penny-bun ;— 

" By thy beady eye, now tell 
me why, 
Thou offspring of a gun, 

tell me why beneath thy 
Exceeding hoary tuft [chin's 

Precisely half a brace of grouse 
Hangs, admirably stuffed?" 

He blinked his beady eye ; his 

Was singularly clear ; 
And as I listened to his tale 

I could not choose but hear. 

" Hon, ye mun ken I have not 

Been sec a feckless loon ; 
In me behold the wreck of what 

Was onoe The McAhooit. 

Oft have I made a merrie bag 
Across my native heath ; 

Shot o'er my ain ancestral 
Or aiblins underneath. 

Until lang syne, a monie year — 
Ye oouldna weel be born — 

The blessed twalf th of August 
Upon a Sawbath morn. 

Braw were the birds, my gun 
was bra w, 
My bluid was pipin' hot : 

1 thocht it crime to gie 'em 

- Allowance like a yacht. 

Scarce had I bagged but ane 

wee bird, 

There was the de'il to pay : 

It's unco deadly skaith wi f 


To break the Sawbath day. 


Emily Jane. "Yes, I'm always a-sayin' to Father as 'e ouohtee 


The billies wha the nicht before 
Were f ou at my expense, 

They deaved the meenister 
My verra bad offenoe. 

An' a' the Kirk declared the 
Was perfect deevilrie, 
An' hung the bird by this 
Arrangement whilk ye see. 

Twal' month an' mair my 
shame I bear 
Beneath the curse o' noon, 
A paltry wraith of what was 
The Laird o' McAjloox. 

An' aye when fa's the blessed 

Upo' the Sawbath day, 
I bear the bird in this absurd 

An' aggravatin' way." 

The ancient ceased his sorry 
And craved a trifling boon, 
To wet the whistle of what 
was once 
The Laird o* McAbooit. 

Ditto to Mr. Courtney* 
As after jackdaw chatter and 

Gratefully follows Philomel's 

dulcet fluting : 
So, after Hahbubt/s gibes and 

Healy's jeers, 
Couatnbt's oool reason glad- 
dens patriot ears. 
O, si tic omnes ! But though 

his sole voice 
Sound "in the wilderness," 

yet some rejoice 
To hear, 'midst blare of venom- 

ed wrath and vanity, 
The moving tones of brave, 

sound-hearted sanity. 


(By Our Imaginary Interviewer.) 

I found the (Treat man surrounded by plans and models of any 
number of wonderful inventions. Here was a clever scheme for 
spending a week's holiday in. the Mountains of the Moon, there a 
recipe for removing the spots from the 
face of the sun. It would take too long 
to give an inventory of all the marvels. 
Enough to say their name was legion. 

" And so you have discovered the secret 

of aerial navigation P" I asked, after I 

^mm was comfortably seated. 

\i^ ^H 9 ^ e & reat man pm iled. He evidently 

\r -^ J B&r ■ J^.— na< l solved the difficult problem. 

2?-« tSSS&k " " \~ " * 8U PP ose that now you and all will be 

able to do without ships and railways ? I 

presume we shall be independent of cabs 

iJoWliVFfa and omnibuses ? " 


Once more there was a smile. I ..__ 
answered. " Of course," I continued," you will be able to take your 
aerial contrivances to all the countries of the earth ? What is there to 
prevent you from startiog flying-machines from London to Paris, or 
Berlin, or even Timbuctoo Y " Again there was a pleasant smile. 
Evidently my guess was a good one. 

*• You will be able to travel thousands of miles without the assist- 
ance of railsP You will dispense with land and water P All you will 
require will be the atmosphere, and that is always with us— always 
at our service." 

Again my suggestions remained uncontradicted. 

"It is trnly marvellous," I remarked ; 4t truly marvellous 1 And 
you have commenced ? You have been able to float through the air 
for a dozen, a hundred feet P " There was a smile once again. 

" And yet, perhaps, as railways and steamships are still 'firm' on 

the Stock Exchange, it may be just as well to allow our holdings in 
those securities to remain undisturbed P What do you think P It 
is scarcely time to speculate for a fall P " Once more he smiled, and 
as smiling is infectious, I joined him in his merriment. 

[At Clifton, on Aug. 9, in Gloucestershire f\ Middlesex, Dr. W.G.GRACBeom- 
pleted his 1000 runs in first-class matches this summer. The other players 
who share this distinction are Abel, Albert Ward, and Brockwbll.] 

Well hit ! Mr. Punch chalks it up once more — 
Your ten-hundredth run between the " creases" I 
Why, this (at twenty-two yards apiece) is 

Twelve-miles-and-a half for this season's score ! 

But stay ! we 've no business to ** notch " each mile t 
With your outs and draws, and your drives and trick hits, 
You 've only to stand still before the wiokets, 

And straight to the boundary " fours " compile ! 

With Abel, Ward, B bock well, you hold your own, 

As '94 cricket now nears its finish ; 

We '11 hope your four figures will ne'er diminish — 
As " Grand Old Bat " you thall e'er be known ! 

QUEER QUERIES— The Law ahd the Lady.— Can it really 
be true that at a place called Onehunga, in New Zealand, they have 
a lady as Mayor f Surely this is altogether " ultra rires" as well 
as being ultra- virile ! My legal knowledge— which is considerable — 
convinces me that there is a fatal flaw in the so-called election of a 
woman to the chief post in a municipality, even in New Sheland— I 
mean New Zealand. It 's quite settled law that nfemme sole cannot 
be a Corporation ; then how. I should like to know, can she preside 
over a Corporation Y Possibly some legal readers will say if their 
opinion coincides with mine. Babbister (uncalled foe). 



[August 18, 1894. 



House of Lords, Monday Night, August 6.— M amiss expected to 
continue to-night that speech around the Budget he didn't oommenoe 
on second reading of the Bill. Sat mysteriously quiet on that 
occasion. Unexpectedly broke out at following sitting, wanting to 
know what Herschell meant by saying Judicial Committee of Privy 
Council had arrived at conclusion that Lords had no power to amend 
a money bill. " Where 's your report ? " he asked. " Produce it." 

Lord Chancellor didn't happen to have it in his waistcoat pocket 
or secreted in wig. Majlkiss gave notice that he would to-night 
formally move for production of report. Flutter of interest in House. 
Commons flocked in prepared for some fresh " blazing indiscre- 
tion." Found the Markiss sitting on woolsack ohatting with Lord 
Chancellor. Held book between them, as 
young persons about to marry are wont to do 
when attending morning or evening service. 
Vague idea that presently they would rise and 
sing a hymn. Lord Chancellor quite equal 
to it, being a big gun at the Bar Musical So- 
ciety and very fond of the Opera. Nothiog 
however came of it, at least, not in that direc- 
tion. When hour for public business arrived 
Markiss left woolsack carrying the tune book 
with him. His motion for report of Judicial 
Committee stood half way down Orders of the 
Day. When it was reached Markiss said 
nothing. Naturally other peers were silent, 
and whilst commoners accustomed to other 
ways of transacting business were marvelling 1 
as to what had happened, and what would 
follow, House adjourned, practically for a 

44 Well," said Sark for once nonplussed: 
41 certainly if there is a place in the world 
where 'e don't know where 'e are, it's the 
House of Lords. When a peer is expected to 
speak he sits dumb. When arrangements have 
been made for a quiet sitting, the Markiss or 
some other big gun is sure to go off unex- 
pectedly with alarming consequences." 

Business done, — Irish Evicted Tenants Bill 
passed Report Stage in Commons. 

Tuesday. — It is the unexpected that happens 
in the House of Commons. Bef el to-night with 
dramatic suddenness. Third reading of Evicted 
Tenants Bill moved. At eleven o'clock Joseph 
resumed his seat with pleased consciousness of 
having cast some balm, in the shape of vitriol, 
over Irish Question. House crowded ; Devon- 
shire, in depression and dinner dress, looked 
down from Peers' Gallery. Over the clock sat 
Sandhurst, presently to move first reading of 
Bill in House of Lords. Arranged Bill should 
finally leave Commons to-night. Only one 
hour in whioh Prince Arthur might speak, 
and John Morley reply. Joseph having des- 
patched his final arrow at his old friends the 
Irish Members, the shaft being barbed with 
points composing pleasing legend, "Violence, 
Agitation, Dishonesty," Prince Arthur rose, 
with evident intent of showing, as has hap- 

bright things to say ; but what was one speech among so many P 
Perish his speech, rather than the whole arrangements of Parliamen- 
tary week be upset. So gracefully stood aside; Dillon took his 
half hour; John Morlby followed in vigorous fighting form, 
marking fresh step in stesdy improvement as Parliamentary debater ; 
and before midnight all was over. 

Business done. — Evicted Tenants Bill read third time by 199 
votes against 167. 

Wednesday.— M. de Londres— the Hangman, as blunt Britons put 
it — called to-day. House engaged on Committee of Equalisation 
of Rates Bill : seat found for Monsieur under Gallery, where private 
secretaries of ministers and heads of public offices sit when Bills 
affecting their departments are under discussion. 

"Monsieur has something to do with the Home Office, n'est ce 
pas f " I asked Sark. " i/ooked in, I suppose, to help Asquith P" 
44 No," said the Member for Sark. 44 It 's 
not that. He 's heard House intends to sus- 
pend the Standing Orders. Wants to see how 
we go to work. Not above taking a wrinkle 
even from amateurs." 

" Ah," said W. P. Jackson, throwing up his 
hands with gesture of despair. 44 Knew it 
would oome to this under present Government. 
First the guillotine, then the gallows." 
Business done. — Quite a lot. 
Thursday.— Southerners long heard of plea- 
surable hours spent in Committee-room up- 
stairs, where Scotch Members been engaged 
for weeks in Grand Committee on their Local 
Government Bill. Such badinage ! such per- 
siflage! not omitting refreshing influences of 
another kind familiar in Noctes Ambrosiana. 
'Tis said, when conversation flagged quite usual 
thing for J. B. Balfour and Charles Pearson 
to strip off ooats and waistcoats, place two 
umbrellas crosswise on floor, and go through 
sword-dance, Trevelyan in the chair leading 
off colourable imitation of bagpipe accompani- 
ment, in which Committee joined in mad 

Not sure about that. Absolutely no doubt 
that on last day of meeting all the members 
stood on chairs, with one foot on the table, and. 
holding hands, sang 4t Auld Lang Syne." 
Bound to say they seem to have exhausted all 
their hilarity in Committee-room. Parker 
Smith still a good deal to say ; Hozeer not 
uncommunicative ; and Walter M 4 Laren 
fnjoys keen satisfaction of insisting on Division 
that presents smallest minority of the series. 
But, on the whole, House seems filled with what 
Sark tell me Edinburgh, occasionally suffering 
from the visitation, calls 4 * an easterly haar." 

Through the cold, wet, white fog, comes one 
gleam of light. John Morley brings in a Bill 
making further provision with respect to Iri*h 
Congested Districts Board. Speaker puts cus- 
tomary question, 4i Who is prepared to bring in 
this Bill?" 44 Mr. Arthur Balfour and 
myself," responds the Chief Secretary : and 
the House gratefully goes off into a fit of 
44 Lovely in life," exclaims David Plunket, 

pened several times this Session, how the same Thft Macprwror nrnnn , M *n « <n«n th« r»iw»r »_ looking with almost equal affection on his two 
sort of thing may be said with better effect in l e Mac & re *° r P ieS lesrion ! right hon. friends^ 4 / on the Congested .Districts 

quite another way, 

Simultaneously from below gangway uprose the taU figure of John 
Dillon. Opposition roared with despairing indignation. Every- 
thing settled, to last button on the gaiter ; Joseph had had his half- 
hour; Prince Arthur would take his, honourably leaving John 
Morley his thirty minutes. Then Division called ; Bill read third 
time ; sent on to Lords • Commons comfortably home by half-past 
twelve. And here was John Dillon claiming the right to reply to 
attacks and inuendos of the genial Joseph ! 

Tumult rose : Dillon folded his arms and faced it. A bad sign 
that gesture. Remember it in years gone by, when all things were 
topsy-turvey ; when Forster was Chief Secretary, and, next to 
Parnell, the hope of the Irish Members fighting for Home Rule 
was Joseph Chamberlain. 

Dillon in that attitude evidently immoveable ; various suggestions 
offered. Evade the Twelve o'Clock Rule, and sit till all was over : 
adjourn the Debate. Finally agreed that Debate should be adjourned 
till to-morrow— to-morrow, the day on which, at end of last real 
fight of Session, most Members were off on the delayed holiday. 

Out of this dilemma Prince Arthur delivered a grateful House. 
Had prepared his speech through long sitting ; doubtless had many 

Board (Ireland) Bill they are not divided." 

Business done.— Scotch Local Government Bill. 

Friday.— Another 4 4 Nicht wi' Burns." Sadder even than the last. 
But sooner over. By eleven o'clock report stage agreed to. * 4 Shall 
we take third reading now, or would you like a third night with the 
Bill ? " a* ked Trevelyan. 

A shudder ran through the House ; when it was over Bill hurried 
past final stage. Business done.— Winding-up rapidly. 

11 There is nothing new under the sun." 

So said the proverbial preacher. 
But surely 'twas only his fun ! 

A modern and up-to-date teacher 
Would tell him that Humour, and Art, 

And Daughters, and Wives, and Morality, 
All aim to make a fresh start 

In novel (and nauseous) reality : 
And the wail of the Wise Man will be, pretty soon, 

44 There is nothing old under the sun— or the moon ! " 

August 25, 1894.] 




(A Parodic Vote of Thanks to a Town Matron, 
who took a House in the Country.) 

Lady Clara Shebe de Shere, 

Through me you now shall win renown ; 
It nearly broke my country heart 
To oome back to the dusty town. 

In kindliest way, you bade 
me stay 
And nothing better I de- 
But Doty with a great big D 
Called far too loud, and 
I retired. 

Lady Claba Shebe de 
I wonder if you'll like 
your name ! 
Oh ! how you all began to 
And laugh the moment 
that I came. 
Yet would I take more for 
the sake 
Of your dear daughter's 
girlish charms. 
A simple maiden not yet four 
Is good to take up in one's arms. 

Lady Claba Shebe de Shebe, 

8ome newer pupil you must find, 
Who, when you pile his plate sky- high, 

Will meekly say he does not mind. 
You sought to beat my power to eat, 

An empty plate was my reply. 
The cat you left in Grosvenor Square 

Is not more hungry now than I. 

Lady Claba Shebe be Shebe, 

You sometimes took a mother's view, 
And feared lest winsome Dorothy 

Should learn too much from me— or jou. 
Indeed I heard one bitter word 

That scarce were fit for her to hear ; 
Our language had not that repose 

Which rightly fits a Shebe de Shebe. 

Lady Claba Shebe de Shebe. 

The marriage bells rang for the Hall. 
The flags were flying at your door ; 

You spoke of them with curious gall. 
How you decried the pretty bride 

Ana swore her dresses weren't by Wobth, 
And gaily went to church to stare 

At her of far too noble birth. 

Trust me, Claba Shebe de Shebe, 

The man I saw who 's rather bent, 
The grand old gardener at your house 

Prefers the bride of high descent. 
Howe'er that be, it seems to me 

'Tis all important what one eats. 
Milk pudding 's more than caviare, 

And simple food than coloured sweets. 

Claba, Claba Shebe de Shebe, 

If time be heavy on your hands, 
And there are none within your reach 

To play at tennis on your lands, 
Oh ! Fee the tennis court is marked, 

And take care that it doesn't rain, 
Then stay at Shere another month 

And ask me down to stay again. 


My oood Mb. Punch, — I notice that in 
spite of all London being out of town, a 
number of persons have been holding, or pro- 
pose holding, a meeting condemnatory of the 
House of Lords. I fancy, regardless of the 
close of the season, the site chosen has been 
or will be Hyde Park. Perhaps, under these 
circumstances, you, as the representative of 
the nation— equally of the aristocracy and 

the democracy— will allow me a few lines 
space in which to express my sentiments. 

My good Sir. I am considerably past 
middle age, ana yet, man and boy, have 
been in the House of Peers quite half-a- 
dozen years. I cannot say that I was added 
to the number of my colleagues because I 
was an eminent lawyer, or a successful 
general { or a great statesman. I believe 
my claim to the distinction that was con- 
ferred upon me, — now many summers since, 
— was the very considerable services I was 
able to afford that most useful industry the 
paper decoration of what may be aptly 
termed "the wooden walls of London." 
When called upon to select an appropriate 
territorial title, I selected, without hesitation, 
the Barony of Savon de Soapleigh. Savon 
is a word of French extraction, and denotes 
the Norman origin of my illustrious race. 
Not only was I able to assist at the regenera- 
tion of the " great unwashed," but also to do 
considerable service to the grand cause with 
which my party in politics is honourably 
associated. I was able to contribute a very 
large sum to the election nurse, and having 
fought and lost several important consti- 
tuencies, was amply rewarded by the coronet 
that becomes me so well, the more especially 
when displayed upon the panelsof my carriage. 
You will ask me, no doubt (for this is an 
age of questions), what I have done since I 
entered the Upper Chamber? I will reply 
that I have secured a page in Burke, abstained 
from voting, except to oblige the party whips, 
and, before all and above all, pleased my lady 
wife. And yet there are those who would 
wish to abolish the House of Peers ! There 
are those who would do away with our ancient 
nobility! Perish the thought! for in the 
House of Peers I see the reflection of the 
nation* s greatness. 

But you may ask 
me, "Would I do 
anything to improve 
that Chamber?" 
And I would answer. 
"Yes." I would 
say, " Do not in- 
crease its numbers; 
it is already large 

Itis cominonkno w- 
ledge that a gentle- 
man of semi-medi- 
cinal reputation, who 
has been as beneficial, 
or near] y as beneficial. 
to the proprietors of 
^ hoardings as myself, 
wishes to be created 
Viscount Cough of Mixture. Yet another 
of the same class desires to be known to 
generations yet unborn as Lord Tobacco of 
Cigarettes; whilst a third, on account of 
the attention he has paid to the "under- 
standings" (pardon the plaisanterie) of the 
people, is anxious to figure on the roll of 
honour as " Baron de Boots." 

My good Mr. Punch, such an extension 
of the House of Peers merely for the satis- 
faction of the vanity of a number of vulgar 
and puffing men would be a scandal to our 
civilisation. No, my good Sir, our noble 
order is large enough. I am satisfied that 
it should not be extended, and when I am 
satisfied the opinions of every one else are 
(and here I take a simile from an industry 
that has given me my wealth) "merely 
bubbles— bubbles of soap." 

And now I sign myself, not as of old, plain 
Joe Snooks, but Yours very faithfully, 
Savon de Soapleigh. 
P.S.— I am sure my long line of ancestors 
would agree with me. When that long line 
is discovered you shall hear the result. 


The midsummer twilight is dying, 

The golden is turning to gray, 
And my troublesome thoughts are a-flying 

To the days that have vanished away, 
Whenlif ehad no 
crosses for me, 

But Proctors 
and bulldogs 
and dons, 
And I used to 
write sonnets to 
thee, love, 
In the dreamy 
old garden of 

By Jove! What 
a time we just 
had, love, 
That week'you 
were up for 
Commem. ! 
The dances and 
picnics — egad, 
How strange 
to be thinking 
of them ! 
How we laughed at the dusty old doctors, 

And the vice with his gorgeous gold gown, 
And you thought it a shame that the Proctors 
Were constantly sending me down. 

We danced and we dined and we boated, 

Did the lions all quite comme ilfaut, 
And I felt a strange thrill when you voted 

Old Johnnie's the best of the show. 
I remember your eager delight, love, 

With our garden and chapel and nail— 
And oh, for that glorious night, love, 

When we went to the Balliol ball ! 

There is very poor pleasure in dancing 

In a stuffy hot ball-room in June — 
And the Balliol lawn looked entrancing 

In the silvery light of the moon. 
I fancy the thought had occurred, love, 

To somebody else besides me, 
For I managed, with scarcely a word, love, 

To get you to smile and agree. 

We sat on the Balliol lawn, love, 

And the hours flew as fast as you please, 
Till the rosy- tipped fingers of dawn, love, 

Crept over the Trinity trees. 
A stranger might say he had never 

Heard trash in a vapider key ; 
But no conversation has ever 

Been half so delicious to me. 

I seemed to be walking on air, love ; 

And oh, how I auivered when you 
Snipped off a wee lock of your hair, love, 

And said you were fond of me too. 
I clasped it again and again, love, 

To my breast with a passionate vow. 
There ever since it has lam, love, 

And there it is lying just now. 

— But my heart gives a horrible thump, love, 

I find myself gasping for air, 
For my throat is choked up with a lump, 

Which surely should never be there. 
And I sadly bethink me that life, live, 

Won't always run just as we will— 
For you are another man's wife, love, 

And I am a bachelor still 

Common (Gas) Metre. 
Light metres " there are many, 
The lightest of the lot 

,M * rt *Dde 


Is what is called 

vol. cm. 



[August 25, 1894. 


The Old Lady of Threaineedle Street. " Go away I Go away with youb nasty Money ! I can't bo with 

, Digitized 


August 25, 1894.] 




["The Bank Betura shows considerable addi- 
tions to the reserve and the stock of bullion."— 
" Time*," on " Money Market."] 

Riches Old Lady you '11 not meet, 
Than this one, of Threadneedle Street. 
Nicer Old Lady none, nor neater, 
But, like the boy in 8truwwelpeter % 
That whilom chubby, ruddy lad, 
The dear old dame looks sour and sad ; 
Nay, long time hath she seemed dejected, 
And her once fancied fare rejected. 

She screams out—' 1 Take the gold away ! 

Oh, take the nasty stuff away! 

I won't have.any gold to-day." 

This Dame, like Danae of old 

Has long been wooed in showers of gold, 

By Jupiters of high finance ; 

But, sick of that cold sustenance, 

Or surfeited, or cross, or ill, 

The dear Old Lady cries out still— 

II Not any gold for me, I say ! 
Oh, take the nasty stun away ! ! 

I wonH have any more to-day ! ! ! " 

And on my word it is small wonder, 
Fur in her spacious house, and under, 
Of bullion sue hath boundless store, 
And scarcely can find room for more. 
Filled every pocket, purse, safe, coffer. 
And still the crowds crush round and offer 
Their useless, troublesome deposits, 
To cram her cupboards, choke her closets. 
What marvel then that she should say— 
" Oh, take the nasty stuff away ! 
I won't have any more to-day f I " 

The poor Old Lady once felt pride as 

A sort of modern Mrs. Midas ; 

For all she touches turns to gold 

Within her all-embracing hold ; 

Gold solid as the golden leg 

Of opulent Miss Kilmansegge, 

But, like that lady, poor- rich, luckless, 

She values now the yellow muck less, 

Though once scraped up with assiduity, 

Because of its sheer superfluity. 

It blocks her way, it checks the breath of her; 

She dreads lest it should be the death of her. 

With bullion she could build a Babel, 

So screams, as loud as she is able, — 

" Not any more, good friends, I say ! 

For goodness gracious go away ! ! 

I tconH take any more to day f ! ! " 

They beg, they pray, they strive to wheedle 

The Old Lady of the Street Threadneedle. 

The cry is still they come ! they come ! 

Men worth a " million " or a " plum," 

The " goblin," or the " merry monk " ; 

Constantly cninketh, chink-chank-chuuk ! 

In 4t Gladstone " or in canvas bag ; 

But sourly she doth eye the " swag,'' 

Peevishly gathers round her skirt, 

As though the gold were yellow dirt. 

Crying, Oh, get away now, do! 

I 'm really getting sick of you. 

The proffered ' stuff ' I must refuse ; 

I have far more than I can use. 

I 've no more need or wish for money 

Than a surfeited bee for honey. 

Money *s a drug, a nauseous dose. 

At cash the Market cocks its nose. 

'Tis useless as the buried talent, 

Or the half-crown to a poor pal lent ; 

As gilded oats to hungry nag. 

Away with bulging purse and bag ! 

They are a bother and a pest. 

I wul not store, I can't invest. 

With your * old stocking ' be content, 

/can't afford you One per Cent. 

Bullion 's a burden and a bore. 

I cannot do with any more ! 
Not any more for me, I say 
Oh, take the nasty stuff away 
I won't have any gold to-day ! ! ! " 


Brown. "By Gkorge, Jones, that *s a handsome UmbbellaI Where did you get it?" 



(To an Old Tune.) 

Rayleigh now, this raelly strange is 

This New Nitrogen ! 
Air that into water changes 

Seem not new to men, 
(All our atmosphere this summer 

Has been " heavy wet,") 
But sheer fcolid air seems rummer, 

More Munchausenhh yet ! 
New things now are awfully common ; 

And it seems but fair, 
With New Humour. Art, and Woman, 

We should have New Air. 
41 Lazy air," one calls it gaily ; 

Seasonable, very ! 
Will it quiet us. dear Rayleigh, 

Soothe us, make us merry P 

Still the flurry, cool the fever, 

Calm the nervous stress P 
If it be so, you for ever 

Punch will praise and bless. 
Will the New Air set— oh ! grand Sir !— 

Life to a new tune P 
Lead us to a Lotos-Land, Sir, 

Always afternoon P 
One per cent, seems rather little ! 

Can't you make it more P 
When 'tis solid is it brittle ? 

Liquid, does it vour f 
Rayleigh ? No r You don't say so ! 
What lots of funny things you know ! 

The Difference between a bad Gbbman 
Band and a beaten Cbicejst Team.— One 
fails to play in time and the other to " play 
out time." Digitized byVjQiJ^ 



[August 25, 1894. 


(A Story in Scenes.) 


Scene XIII.— The Amber Boudoir. Sir Rupert has just entered. 

Sir Rupert. Ha, Maisle, my dear, glad to see you. Well, Ro- 
hbsia, how are you, eh P You 're looking uncommonly well ! No 
idea you were here ! 

SpurreU (to himself). Sir Rupert! He'll have me out of this 
pretty soon, 1 expect ! 

Lady Cantire {aggrieved). We have been in the house for the best 
part of an hour, Rupert— as you might have discovered .by inquir- 
1 A doubt you preferred your comfort to welcoming a guest 

And I 

ing— but no 

who was merely your sister ! 

Sir Hup. (to himself). Beginning already! (Aloud.) 
sorry— got rather wet riding— had to ohange everything, 
knew Alblnia was here. 

Lady Cant, {magnanimously). Well, we won't begin to quarrel 
the moment we meet • and you are forgetting your other guest. 
(In an undertone.) Mr. Spurrell— the Poet— wrote Andromeda. 
(Aloud.) Mr. Spurrell, come and let me present 
you to my brother. 

Sir Rup. Ah, how d'ye do? (To himself, as he 
shakes hands.) What the deuce am I to say to this 
fellow ? (Aloud.) Glad to see you here, Mr. Spur- 
rell- heard all about you— A naromeda, ehP Hope 
you'll manage to amuse yourself while you 're with 
us : afraid there 's not much you can do now though. 

Spurr. (to himself). Horse in a bad way ; time 
they let me see it. (Aloud.) Well, we must see, 
Sir; I'll do all Jean. 

Sir Rup. You see, the shooting 's done now. 

Spurr. (to himself, professionally piqued). They 
might have waited till I 'd seen the horse Defore they 
shot him ! After calling me in like this ! (Aloud.) 
Oh, I 'm sorry to hear that. Sir Rupert. I wish I 
could have got here earlier, I 'm sure. 

Sir Rup. Wish we'd asked you a month ago, if 
you're fond of shooting. Thought you might look 
down on Sport, perhaps. 

Spurr. (to himself). Sport ? Why, he's talking of 
birds— not the horse! (Aloud.) Me, Sir Rupert? 
Not much ! I 'm as keen on a day's gunning as any 
man, though I don't often get the chance now. 

Sir Rup. (to himself, pleased). Gome, he don't seem 
strong against the Game Laws ! (Aloud.) Thought 
you didn't look as if you sat over your desk all day ! 
There's hunting still, of course. Don't know whether 
you ride P 

Spurr. Rather so, Sir! Why, I was born and 
bred in a sporting county, and as lone as my old 
uncle was alive. I could go down to his farm and get 
a run with the hounds now and again. 

Sir Rup. (delighted). Capital! Well, our next 
meet is on Tuesday— best part of the country ; nearly 
all grass, and nice olean post and rails. You must 
stay over for it. Got a mare that will carry your 
weight perfectly, and I think I can promise you a 
run— eh, what do you say P 

Spurr. (to himself in surprise). He is a chummy 
old cock ! 1 '11 wire old Spavin that I 'm detained on biz ; and I '11 
tell 'em to send my riding-breeches down ! (Aloud.) It 's uncom- 
monly kind of you. Sir, and I think I can manage to stop on a bit. 

Lady Culverin (to herself). Rupert must be out of his senses ! It 's 
bad enough to have him here till Monday! (Aloud.) We mustn't 
forget, Rupert, how valuable Mr. Spurrell' 8 time is ; it would 
be too selfish of us to detain him here a day longer than 

Lady Cant. My dear, Mr. Spurrell has already said he can 
manage it ; so we may all enjoy his society with a clear conscience. 
(Lady Culverin conceals her sentiments with difficulty.) And now, 
Alblnia, if you'll excuse me, I think I'll go to my room and rest 
a little, as I'm rather fatigued, and you have all these tiresome 
people coming to dinner to-night. 

[She rises, and leaves the room ; the other ladies follow her 

Lady Culv. Rupert, I 'm going up now with Rohesia. You 
know where we've put Mr. Spurrell, don't you? The Verney 
Chamber. [She goes out. 

Sir Rup. Take you up now, if you like, Mr. Spurrell— it 's only 
just seven, though. Suppose you don 't take an hour to dress, eh P 

Spurr. Oh dear no, Sir, nothing like it ! (To himself J Won't 
take me two minutes as I am now ! I 'd better tell him— I can say 
my bag hasn't come. I don't believe it Am, and, any way, it *s a good 
excuse. (Aloud.) The— the fact is, Sir Rupert, I'm afraid that 
my luggage has been unfortunately left behind. 

Sir Rup. No luggage, eh P Well, well, it 's of no consequence. 
But I '11 ask about it— I daresay it 's all right. [He goes out. 

Captain Thicknesse (to Spurrell). Sure to have turned up, you 
know— man will have seen to that. Shouldn't altogether object to a 
glass of sherry and bitters before dinner. Don't know how you feel 
— suppose you 've a soul above sherry and bitters, though ? 

Spurr. Not at this moment. But I 'd soon put my soul above a 
sherry and bitters if I got a ehance ! 

Capt. Thick, (after reflection). I say, you know, that's rather 
smart, eh ? (To himself.) Aw'nv clever sort of chap, this, but not 
stuck up—not half a bad sort, if he is a bit of a bounder. (Aloud.) 
Anythin' in the evenin' paper ? Don't *et 'em down here. 

Snurr. Nothing much. I see there's an objection to Monkey- 
tricks for the Grand National. 

Capt. Thick, (interested). No, by Jove ! Hope they won't carry it 
—meant to have something on him. 

Spurr. I wouldn't baok him myself. I know something that's 
safe to win. bar accidents— a dead cert, Sir ! Got the tip straight 
from the stables. You just take my advice, and pile all you can on 
Jumping Joan. 

Capt. Thick, (later, to himself, after a long and highly interesting 
conversation). Tnonderin' olever chap— never knew 
poets were such elever chaps. Mipht t>e a " bookie," 
by Gad! No wonder Maisxe thinks such a lot of 
him ! [He sighs. 

Sir Rup. (returning). Now, Mr. Spurrell, if 
you '11 come upstairs with me, I 'U show you your 
quarters. By the way, I 've made inquiries about 
your luggage, and I think you '11 find it 's all right. 
(As he leads the way up the staircase.) Rather 
awkward for you if you 'd had to oome down to 
dinner just as you are, eh P 

Spurr. (to himself). Oh, lor, my beastly baar has 
come after all ! Now they '11 know I didn't bring a 
dress suit. What an owl I was to tell him ! (Aloud. 
%ebly.) Oh — er — very awkward indeed, Sir Rupert ! 
Sir Rup. (stopping at a bedroom door). Verney 
Chamber— here you are. Ah, my wife forgot to have 
your name put up on the door— better do it now^eh ? 
( He writes it on the card in the door-plate.) There 
— well, hope you '11 find it all comfortable— we dine 
at eight, you know. You 've plenty of time for all 
you 've got to do ! 

Spurr. (to himself). If I only knew what to do ! I 
shall never have the cheek to oome down as I am ! 

[He enters the Verney Chamber dejectedly. 

Scene XIV. — An Upper Corridor in the East Wing. 

Steward's Room Boy (JoTJndershell). This is your 
room, Sir— you '11 find a fire lit and alL 

Afire? Forme! I scarcely 

Tgenoe. You are sure there 's 
You '11 find 

Under shell (scathingly). 
expected such an indulge 
no mistake ? 

Roy. This is the room I was told. Sir. 
candles on the mantelpiece, and matches, 

Und. Every luxury indeed! I am pampered— 
pampered ! 
Boy. Yes, Sir. And I was to say as supper's at 
" I say,, you know, that »• rather ""P** ™ie, but Mrs. Pompret would be 'appy to see 
leLp" T0U in tne P u & 8 Parlour whenever you pleased to 

oome down and set there. 
Und. The Pugs' Parlour ? 

Boy. What we call the 'Ousekeeper's Room, among ourselves. Sir. 
Und. Mrs. Pomfret does me too much honour. And shall I have 
the satisfaction of seeing your intelligent countenance at the festive 
board, my lad P 

Boy (giggling). Lor, Sir, I don't set down to meals along with the 
upper servants, Sir ! 

Und. And I— a mere man of genius— do ! These distinctions must 
strike you as most arbitrary ; but restrain anv natural envy, my 
young friend. I assure you I am not puffed up by this promotion ! 

Boy. No, sir. (To himself, as he goes out.) I believe he's a bit 
dotty, I do. I don't understand a word he 's been talking of ! 

Und. (alone, surveying the surroundings). A cockloft, with a 
painted iron bedstead, a smoky chimney, no bell, and a text over 
the mantelpiece ! Thank Heaven, that fellow Drysdale can't see 
me here ! But I will not sleep in this place, my pride will only just 
bear the strain of staying to supper— no more. And I 'm hanged if I 
go down to the Housekeeper's Room till hunger drives me. It 's not 
eipht yet— how shall I pass the time P Ha, I see they 've favoured me 
with pen and ink. I will invoke the Muse. Indignation should 
make verses, as it did for Juvenal ; and he was never set down to 
sup with slaves ! [Hi writes. 

Scene XV.— The Verney Chamber. 
Spurr. (to himself). My word, what a room ! Carpet all over the 

August 25, 1894.] 



walls, big fourposter, carved ceiling, great fireplace with blazing 
logs, — if this is now they do a vet here, what price the other fellows' 
rooms ? And to think I shall have to do without dinner, just when I 
was getting on with 'em all so swimmingly ! I must. I can't, for 
the credit of the profession— to say nothing of the firm— turn up in a 
monkey jacket and tweed bags, and that's all J've got except a 
nightgown! ... It's all very well for Lady Maisie to say ** Take 
everything as it comes " but if she was in my fix ! . . . And it 
isn't as ifl hadn't got dress things either. If only I 'd brought 'em 

down, I 'd have marched in to dinner as cool as a {he lights a pair 

of candles. ) Hullo ! What 's that on the bed P (He approaches it.) 
Shirt! white tie! socks! coat, waistcoat, trousers — they are dress 
clothes ! . . . And here's a pair of brushes on the table ! I '11 swear 
they 're not mine— there 's a monogram on them — 4 ' U. G." What does 
it all mean ? Why, of course !' regular old trump, Sir Rfpebt. and 
naturally he wants me to do him credit. He saw how it was, ana he 's 
gone ana rigged me out ! In a house like this, they 're ready for 
emergencies— keep all sizes in stock, I daresay. • . . It isn't " U. G." 
on the brushes— it's " 0. U."— " Guest's Use." Well, this is what I 
call doing the thing in style ! Cinderella 's nothing to it ! Only hope 
they 're a decent fit. (Later, as he dresses.) Gome, the shirt 's all 
right ; trousers a trifie short— but they '11 let down ; waistcoat— whew, 
must undo the buckle— hang it, it is undone ! I feel like a hooped 
barrel in it ! Now the coat— easy does it. Well ? it's on ; but I shall 
have to be peeled like a walnut to get it off again. . . . Shoes P ah, 
here they are— pair of pumps. Phew— must have come from the 
Torture Exhibition in Leicester Square: glass slippers nothing to 
'em ! But they '11 have to do at a pinch ; and they do pinch like 
blazes ! Ha, ha, that 's good ! I must tell that to the Captain, (He 
looks at himself in a mirror.) Well, I can't say they're up to mine 
for out and general style ; but they 're passable. And now I '11 to 
down to the Drawing Boom and get on terms with all the smarties I 
[He saunters out with restored complacency. 


The first annual meeting of this society, which, as our readers will 
remember, has been in process of formation for some years past, was 
held yesterday. We cannot congratulate the society on its decision 

to exclude reporters. It 
is true that our represen- 
tative, on seeking admis- 
sion, was informed that 
his presence would be un- 
necessary, as members of 
the society, having for 
some time past done their 
own reviewing, intended 
for the future to report 
themselves. The public, 
however, whose eager in- 
terest in literature is 
sufficiently attested not 
only by the literary page 
of democratic news- 
papers, but by the columns which even reactionary journals devote 
to higher criticism and literary snippets—the public, we say, will 
not brook this absurd plea, and will refuse to accept any out an 
impartial report of a gathering such as was held yesterday. This 
we have obtained, and we now proceed to publish it for the benefit 
of the world. 

The meeting opened with a prayer of two thousand words specially 
written for the occasion by Mr. Richard L- G-lli-njte in collabora- 
tion with Mr. Robert B-ch-n-k. As this is shortly to be published 
in the form of a joint letter to the Daily Chronicle it is only 
necessarv to say at present that it combines vigour of expression 
with delicacy of sentiment and grace of style in the very highest 
degree. By the way, we may mention that the new Prayer-book of 
the Society is to be published by Messrs. E-k-k M-tth-ws and J-hk 
L-xe, at the " Bodley Head," before the end of the year. It will be 
profusely illustrated by Messrs. A-be-t B-abd-l-y and W-lt-k 
o-ck-rt, who have also designed for it a special fancy cover. Only 
three hundred copies will Be issued. To return, however, to the 

After harmony had been restored, Mr. W-lt-k B-s-nt asked leave 
to say a few words. His remarks, in which he was understood to 
advocate the compulsory expropriation of publishers, were at first 
listened to with favour. Happening incautiously to say a word or 
two in praise of a Mr. Dicjobts and a Mr. Thackeray he was groaned 
down after a sturdy struggle. |ir. Dickens and Jjfr. Thackeray 
were not, we understand, present in the room at the time. 

Mr. H-b-bx Ck-ck-hth-rpb rose and denounced the previous 
speaker. Literature, he declared, must be vague. What was the 
use of knowing what you were driving at ? What was the use of 
anyone knowing anything P Personally he didn't mean to know 

more than he could help, and he could assure the meeting that he 
could help a great deal; yes, he could help his fellow-creatures to a 
right understanding of the value of patchwork and jerks. That was 
the religion of humanity. 

Mr. N-bm-n G-le said he wasn't much good speaking, but he 
could do something in the dairy and orchard style, He then gave 
the following example : — 

Enter Celia, robed in white, 

Cblia 'b been a-milking. 
Cblia daily doth indite 
Praises to the Pill-king. 

Celia's flocks and Cklia's herds 

(Only she can teach 'em) 
All produce their cream and curds, 

Helped by Mr. B-ch-m. 

A loud cheer greeted the recital of this charming pastoral, and one 
editor, who is not often a victim to mere sentiment, said it reminded 
him of his happy childhood, when he used to take Dr. Gregory's 
powders after a day spent in the neighbouring farmer's orchard. 

The next speaker was G-oroe Eg-rt-w. All women, she said, 
must be Georges. George Saot and George Eliot were women 
she believed. George Meredith was an exception, but that only 
proved her rule. Women were a miserable lot : it was their own 
fault. Why marry P ("Hear, hear," from Mrs. Moka Caird.) Why 
be born at all P She paused for a reply. 

At this point Mr. W. T. St- ad entered the room and offered to talk 
about " Julia in Chicago," but the meeting broke up in oonfusion, 
without the customary vote of thanks to the Chair. 


(A Serene Ducal Romance of the Future.) 

His Highness was smoking a pipe at the dose of the day in the 
fair realm of Utopia. He hid finished dinner, and was discussing 
his lager beer, which 
had quite taken the 
place of coffee. 

44 Dear me," said 
the Duke, rather 
anxiously, as he no- 
ticed the Premier was 
seating himself in a 
chair in his near 
neighbourhood ; ** I 
am afraid I am in- 

~Not at all, Sir,'' 
replied the Minister, 
graciously. 4 4 On the 
contrary, in the name 
of thepeopleof Utopia, 
I beg to offer you my 
sincere thanks." 

"For what P" que- 
ried the Duke. 

44 For doing your, duty, my liege. Not that that is a novelty, for, 
as a matter of fact,' you are always doing it." 

"lam pleased to near you say so," observed His Highness ; " as I 
was under the impression that I had rather shirked my engagements." 

44 Not at all, Sir— not at all. If you consult your memory, you 
will find you carried out to-day's programme to the letter." 

44 Had I not to lay a foundation stone, or something, this morning P" 

44 Assuredly ; and you touched a cord as you were getting up, and 
immediately the machinery was set in motion, and the stone was duly 
laid. Much better than driving miles to have to stand in a drafty 

44 And had I not to open an exhibition P " 

44 Why, yes. And you opened it in due course. Your equerry repre- 
sented you and ground out your speech from the portable phonograph." 

44 Well, really, that was very ingenious," remarked His Highness. 
44 But was I not missed ?" 

44 You would have been, Sir," returned the Premier, 4< had we not 
had the forethought to send down the lantern that gives you in a 
thousand different attitudes. By revolving the disc rapidly the 
most life-like presentment was offered immediately." 

44 Excellent! and did I do anything else P " 

44 Why your Highness has been hard at work all day attending 
reviews, opening canals, and even presiding at public dinners. 
Thanks to science we can reproduce your person, your speech, your 
very presence at a moment's notice." 

4 Exceedingly clever ! " exclaimed His Hi ghness. 4 4 Ah, how much 
better is the twentieth century than its predecessor ! " t 

And no doubt the sentiment of His Highness will be approved by 
posterity. tJigfii^Sy V^iCT 9 IKL* 



[August 25, 1894. 



Little Bines loves Clara Purkiss, who loves Bio Stanley Jones, who loves himself and nobody else in the World 1 

Which is the most to be fitied of the three ? 


A WaUonian Fragment. 
First Piscator, R-s-b-ry. Second Piscator, H-rc-rt. 

First Piscator. Oh me, look you, master, a fish, a fish ! [Loses it. 

Second Piscator. Aye, marry, Sir, that was a good fish: if I had 
had the luek to handle that rod, 'tis twenty to one he should 
not have broken my line as yon suffered him : I would have held 
him, as you will learn to do hereafter ; for I tell you, scholer, fishing 
is an art, or at least it is an art to catch fish. Verily that is the 
second brave Salmon you have lost in that pool ! 

First Piscator. Oh me. he has broke all • there's half a line and a 
good flie lost. * I have no fortune, and that Peers' Pool is fatal fishing. 

Second Piscator. Marry, brother, so it seemes— to you at least! 
Wei, wel, 'tis as small use crying over lost fish as spilt milk ; the 
sunne hath sunk, the daye draweth anigh its ende ; let us up tackle, 
and away I 

First Piscator. Look also how it begins to rain, and by the clouds 
(if I mistake not) we shal presently have a smoaking ahowre. Truly 
it has been a long, rough day, and but poorish sport. 

Second Piscator. Humph I I am fairly content with my catch, 
and had all been landed that have been hookt— but no matter! 
*' Fishers must not rangle," as the Angler's song hath it. 

First Piscator. Marry, no indeed 
the brave fiaher'a life 
It is the best of any ! 
He who 'd mar it with mere strife 
Sure must be a zany. 
Other men. 
Now and then, 
Hare their wars, 
And their jars ; 
Our rule stil 
Is goodwill 
As we gaily angle. 


We have hooks about our hat, 

We have rod and gaff too ; 

We can cast and we can chat, 

Play our fish and chaff too. 

None do here 

Use to swear, 

Oathes do fray 

Fish away. 

Our rule stil 

Is goodwill. 
Fishers must not rangle. 

Second Piscator. Well sung, brother ! Oh me, but even at our 
peaceful and vertuous pastime, there bee certain contentions and 
obstructive spoil-sports now. These abide not good old Anglers' 
Law, but bob and splash in other people's swims, nay away the fish 
they cannot catch, and desire not that exporter anglers should, do 
muddy the stream and block its course, do net and poach and foul- 

hook in such noisy, conscienceless, unmannerly sort, that even honest 
angling beoometh a bitter labour and aggravation. 

First Piscator. Marry, yes brother ! tne Contemplative Man's Re- 
creation is verily not what it once was. What would the sweet singer, 
Mr. William Basse, say to the busy B's of our day: Dubartas to 
B-rtl-t, or Mr. Thomas Barker, of pleasant report, to Tommy B-wl-sP 
Second Piscator. Or worthy old Cottok to the cooky Macullum 
First Piscator. Or the equally cocky Brummagem Bot P 
Second Piscator. Or Dame Juliana Berners to B-lf-ur P 
First Piscator. Or Sir Humphrey Davt to the haughty autocrat 


Second Piscator. Wel, wel, I hate contention and obstruction and 
all unsportsmanlike devices— when I am fishing. 
First Piscator. And so say I. (Sings.) 

The Peers are full of prejudice, 

As hath too oft been tn'd ; 

High trolollie lollie loe, 

high trolollie lee ! 

Second Piscator. The Commons full of opulence, 
And both are full of pride. 
Then care away 
and fish along with me ! 

First Piscator. Marry, brother, and would that I could always do 
so. But doomed as we often are to angle in different swims, I may 
not always land the big fish that you hook, or even 

Second Piscator. Wel, honest scholer, say no more about it, but 
let us count and weigh our day's catch. By Jove, but that bigge 
one I landed after soe long a fight t and whioh you were so luokie as 
to gaff in that verie snaggy and swirly pool itself e. maketh a right 
brave show on the grassie bank ! And harkye, scholer. 'tis a far finer 
and rarer fish than manie woule suppose at first sight I 

[Chuckleth inwardly. 

First Piscator. You say true, master. And indeed the other fisn. 
though of lesser bigness, bee by no manner of meanes to be sneezed 
at. Marry, Master, 'tis none so poor a day's sport after all— con- 
sidering tne weather and the much obstruction, eh ? 

Second Piscator. May bee not, may bee not ! Stil, I could fain 
wish, honest c " 
lost m Peers' _ 
oould fain desire 





Digitized by 


August 25, 1894.] 




Though, Maud, I respect your ambition, 

I fear, to be brutally plain, 
No proud and exalted position 

"i our stories are likely to gain ; 

And, frankly, I cannot pretend I 
Regard with the smallest delight 

The vile cacoethes scribendi 
Which led you to write. 

Your talk is most charming, I know it, 

You readily fascinate all, 
But yet as a serious poet 
^ Your worth, I 'm afraid, is but small • 
Your features, though well-nigh perfection, 

Of the obstacle hardly dispose 
That vou haven't the faintest conception 

Of now to write prose ! 

You think it would be so delightful 

To see your productions in print ? 
Well, do not consider me spiteful 

For daring discreetly to hint 
That in this too-crowded profession. 

Where prizes are fewer than blanks, 
You '11 find the laconic expression, 

44 Rejected— with thanks." 

And so, since you do me the pleasure 

To ask for my candid advice, 
Allow for your moments of leisure 

Some other pursuit to suffice ; 
And, if vou would really befriend me, 

One wish I will humbly confess, — 
Oh, do not continue to send me 

Those reams of MS. ! 


Ora hostess told us off in pairs, 

I had not caught my partner's name, 
But learned, when half way down the stairs, 

She long had been a Primrose Dame ; 
And, ere the soup was out of sight, 

She 'd found, and left behind, her text on 
A speech, if I remember right, 

Attributed to Mr. Skxtox. 

And I — I sat and gasped awhile, 

And only when we reached the pheasant, 
Assuming my politest smile, 

And with an air distinctly pleasant, 
Attempted firmly to direct 

Her flow of talk to other channels. 
Books — shops — the latest stage-effect — 

The newest ways of painting panels. 

I tried in vain. 4I Ah, yes," she said, 
44 And that reminds me— this Dissent " — 

And thereupon began, instead, 
Discussang Disestablishment ! 

The case was clearly hopeless, so 
I hazarded no more suggestions, 

But merely answered Yes or No 
At random, to her frequent questions. 

Yet, while that gushing torrent ran, 
I made a solemn private vow 

That, though no ardent partisan, 
Those Ministers I '11 vote for nc 

Who '11 introduce a drastic bill 
** To bring about her abolition, 
To banish utterly, or loll 
The modern lady-nolitician ! 



A Pessimistic Tale. 

At Whitstable one summer day, 
An oyster rave his fancy wings ; 

He very indolently lay 
In bed, and thought of many things ; 

Of what his life had been ; of weeks 
All spent in having forty winks — 

You know an oyster never speaks, 
But lies awake in bed, and thinks. 

He thought, with pardonable pride, 
That he had never worked — a plan 

Which showed, it cannot be denied, 
That he was quite a gentleman. 

He lived more calmly in his sea 
Than any Bishop ; never crossed 

In any sort of wishes, he 
Had never loved, and never lost. 

No cruel maid had ever spurned 

His heart, such grief no oyster knows ; 
Nor hatred ever in him burned 
veed Against the rival whom she chose. 

Yet, when considered, all appeared 

Too softly calm, too free from strife ; 
He thought, and, sighing, stroked his 

44 There does not seem much use in life." 

By chance, upon this very day 
A London sparrow, for a minute, 

Was thinking somewhat in this way 
Of life, and what the deuce was in it, 

And how he fluttered up and down, 
Like Berthas, Doras, Trunks, or Y r ankees— 

His nest was far above the town. 
Upon the buildings known as Hankey's. 

He thought, with pardonable pride, 
Unlike a pampered, pay canary, 

He worked— it cannot be denied 
That 44 Labor are est or are" 

He worked with all his might and main, 
Yet now he chirped with some misgiving, 

44 Shoot me if I know what I gain, 
There does not seem much use in living." 

£oon after this the bird and fish 
Were slain by old, relentless foes, 

When death was near, each seemed to wish 
To keep his life — wny, no one knows. 

The bird was knocked upon the head— 
A crack no gluing could repair ; 

The oyster rudely dragged from bed, 
Died from exposure to the air. 

They helped in one great work, at least, 
To make some greedy beings fat ; 

The oyster graced a City feast, 
The bird was eaten by the cat. 

Thus, though they led such different lives, 
One fat from sloth, from work one 

Their end was that for which man strives, 
And mostly ends his days with— dinner ! 


Lady, the best and brightest of the sex, 
Whose smile we value, and whose frown 
we fear ; 
Let me proclaim the miseries that vex 
The numerous throng who all esteem you 

'Tis not that you habitus 11 y appear 
Serenely contemplating the Atl intic 

In raiment which, if fathicmble here, 
Would greatly shock the properly pedantic, 
Make Olasgow green with rage, and Mrs. 
Qrtjkdy frantic ; 

Your classical costume a true delight is 
To all who study you from day to day, 

And even if it hastens on bronchitis 
It serves your graceful figure to display : 
But now your thousand fond admirers 

Amid the tumult of the London traffic 

And in each rural unfrequented way — 
44 weather-goddess, look with smile 
And prophesy 4 Set Fair ' within the Daily 

Too long, too long, each worshipper relates, 

You've told of woe with melancholy 


Predicted new "depresions " from the 


Or 4I Y-shaped cyclones " nearing us from 

France ; 
Our summer flies, oh, herald the advance 
Of decent weather ere its course be ended, 
Put vour umbrella down, and if by 
Pxrcator grumble, let him go unfriended, 
Heed not nis selfish moan, but give us 
sunshine splendid ! 

Oar confidence towards you never flinches, 
Let others be unceasingly employed 

In working out the barometric inches, 
Or tapping at the fickle aneroid, 
Wet bulb and dry we equally avoid, 

In you, and you alone, our hopes remain, 
Then be not by our forwardness annoyed, 

Nor let our supplications rise in vain, — 



[Augubt 25, 1894, 


Chang, he had a yellow jacket 
Fitting rather nice and slick ; 
When the garment got the 
sack, it [sick; 

Made him simply deathly 
And he swore, with objurga- 
tions, [hung— 
It was due — or he'd be 
To the fiendish machinations 
Of a man who rhymed with 

But his lord in mild, celestial, 

Manner moralised and said — 
44 There are other really bestial 

Things I might have done 

instead ; [tied you 

Might, in point of fact, have 

To a poplar with a splice, 
And explicitly denied you 

Every olaim to Paradise. 

Nay, I even wondered whether 

I should play another card, 
And reduce your dorsal tether 

By a matter of a yard ; 
Or curtail your nether raiment, 

(This I waived as rather 
Or appropriate your payment 

As a marshal of the force. 

But I gave you just a gentle, 

If humiliating, shock, 
Muoh as any Occidental 

Castigates the erring jock, 
Who in place of freely plug- 

At a reasonable rate, 
By irregularly lugging 

Lets a rival take the plate. 


The Vicar. "What do you thikk of that Burgundy? It's the 
last Bottle of some the dear Bishop gave me. It cost him Eighteen 
Shillings a Bottle ! " 

The Major. "Very nice! But I should just like you to try some 
/ gave Twelve Shillings a Dozen for!" 

Thus I delicately hinted 

It was time to jog your gee; 
And the proper view is printed, 

In the pagan P. M. G. % 
Namely, that you might be 

Of a deal of sultry dirt, 
And do better in an airy 

Waistcoat with a cotton 

Doubtless habits have a lot to 
Do with character as such, 
Yet the prophet warns us 
not to 
Trust in colour very muoh ; 
And indeed your yellow cus- 
Came to smack of rotten 
Since they took to making 
Books and Astersover-seas." 

Noble Half Hundred ! ! ! 

* ' We mean to keep our Empire 
in the East !* 
So sang the music halls with 
noisy nous, 
Well, one thing now is very 
clear at least, 
Our Empire in the East can't 
keep— a House ! 
Is our Indian Government 
fairly cheap P men ask 
Are Anglo-Indian rulers 
wise and thrifty P 
The Commons meet to tackle 
that big task, 
And Fowler's speech is 
listened to hy— Fifty ! 


How werry partioklar sum people is in having it advertised where 
they have gone to to spend their summer holtiaay. I wunce saw it 
stated, sum years ago, that the Markis of Sorlsrerry had gone with 
the Marohoness to Deep, I think it was, and then foflered the 
staroenng annowncement that Mr. Deputy Muggins 
ana Mrs. Muggins was a spending a note week at 
Gravesend ! I'ma having mine at Grinnidge, and 
had the honner last week of waiting upon the 
Ministerial Gents from Westminster, and a werry 
jowial lot of Gents they suttenly seems to be. 

I likes Grinnidge somehow ; it brings back to fond 
memmory the appy days when I fust proposed to my 
Misses Robert in Grinnidge Park, and won from her 
blushing lips afond awowal of her loving detachment 

Ah! them was appy days, them was, and 

never cums more than wunce to us ; no, not ewen 

in Grinnidge Park. 

I 'm told as how as Appy Amsted is not at all a bad place for this 

sort of thing; but I cannot speak from werry muoh pussonal 

xperience there myself. 

Having a nour or two to spare before the Westminster Dinner, I 
took a strol in the butif ul Park. Not quite the place for adwenters, 
but I had a little one there on that werry particklar day as I shant 
soon forget 

I was a setting down werry cumferal on a nice oumferal seat, when 
a nioe looking Lady came up to me, and setting herself down beside 
me asked me wery quietly if I coud lend her such a thing as harf a 
crown ! I was that estonished that I ardly knew what to say, 
when to my great surprise she bust out a crying, and told me as 
how as she nad bin robbed, and had not a penny to take her home 
to London ! What on airtn coud I do P 1 oouon't say as I hadn't 
no harf crown coz I had one, and I oarnt werry well tell a hun- 
blushing lie coz I alien blushes if I tries one, so I said as how as it 
was the only one as I had, and so I hoped as she woud return it to 
me to-morrow, and I told her my adress, when she suddenly threw 
her arms round my neck and acshally kist me, and then got up 
and ran away ! and I have lived ever since in a dredf ul state of 
dowt and unsertenty for fear as she shoud call when I was out 
and tell Mrs. Robert the hole partioklers ! and ewen expect her to 
believe it ! Robert. 


{Fragment from a Romance of the Future.) 

The successful General, after winning the great victory, acted 
with decision. He out all the telegraph wires with his own hands, 
until there was but one left in the camp— that which had its outlet 
in his own tent. He called for the special cor- 
respondents. They came reluotantly. writing 
in their note-books as they approached him. 

" Gentlemen" said he, with polite severity, 
" I have no wish to deal harshly with the Press. 
I am fully aware of the services it does to the 
country. But, gentlemen, I have a duty to 
perform. I cannot allow you to oommunicate 
to your respective editors the glorious result of 
this day's fighting. For a couple of hours you 
must be satisfied to restrain your impatience." 

44 It will yet be in time for the five o'clock 
edition," murmured one of the scribes. .' 

" And I shall be able to get it into the V 
Special," murmured another. 1* A 

Then the General bowed and retired to bis | u 
own tent. At last he was alone. Over the re- ,<* 
eeiver to the telephone was a board inscribed > 
with various numbers, with names attached •5^ 

thereto. He saw that 114 stood for 4< Wife," 12,017 for u Mother- 
in-law." and 10 for " Junior United Service Club." But he selected 
none oi these. 

44 No. 7," he cried, suddenly applying his lips to the receiver and 
ringing up, 44 are you there ? " 

lf Why, certainly ; what shall I do ? " 

44 Why, buy 30,000 Consols for me," was the prompt reply. And 
then the General a few minutes later added, 4 * Have you done it ? " 

44 1 have— for the next account." 

And then the warrior smiled and released the Press-men. Nay, 
more, he ordered the telegraph wires to be repaired. All was joy 
and satisfaction. The glorious news was flashed in a thousand 
different directions. The name of the general received immediate 

And the mat commander was more than satisfied. His fortune 
was assured. Before allowing the news to be spread abroad he had 
taken the precaution to do a preliminary deal with his stockbroker ! 

August 25, 1894.] 




Abominable work of man, 
Defacing nature where he can 

Witn engineering ; 
On plain or hill he never fails 
To run his execrable rails ; 
Coals, dirt, smoke, passengers 
and mails, 

At onoe appearing. 

To Alpine summits daily go 

The locomotives to and fro. 
What desecration I 

Where playful kids once 
blithely skipped. 

Where rustic goatherds gaily 

Where clumsy climbers some- 
times slipped, 
He builds a station. 

Up there, where once upon a 

time [would climb 

Determined mountaineers 

To some far chalet ; 
Up there, above the carved 
wood toys, [boys 

Above the beggars, and the 
Who play the Ranz aes Vaches 
— such noise 
Down in the Thai, eh? 

Up there at sunset, rosy red, 
And sunrise— if you 're out of 

Ton see the summit, 
Majestic, high above the vale. 
It is not difficult to scale— 
The fattest folk can go by rail 

To overcome it. 

For nothing, one may often 

Is sacred to the engineer ; 
He's mueh too clever. 
Well, I must hurry on again, 
That mountain summit to at- 
tain, ("train. 
Good-bye. I 'm going by the 
I climb it? Never! 


Tourist from London {to young local Minister). •' How quiet and peaceful 


Minister. "Eh, Friend, it seems peacefu*. Wha wad think we 



[At Baku, on the Caspian, a 
Society ha* been formed to 
abolish hand-shaking and kissing, 
on the ground that bacilli are 
propagated by such personal 
contact. The ladies, however, 
have protested against this to 
the Governor-General. 

Daily Telegraph.'] 

Baku is a place that is pretty 

well Grundyfied, 
Where the good folks have all 

frolic and fun defied, 
Where I 'd be shunned, if 

Play at Whit-Mondayfied 
Games such as " Catch-can" 

and Kiss-in-the-ring ! 

For the grey beards, it seems, 

of this naptha-metro- 

(Really, their reason about to 

o'ertopple is) 
All o'er the shop '11 hiss. 
Hollering. " Stop ! Police ! 
Hi, there! hand-shaking the 

mischief will bring ! " 

And kissing, they think, only 
leads to diphtheria— 

WelL I should say, such a 
dread of bacteria 

Quite beyond query, a- 

-mounts to hysteria ! 

No, it won't " wash "—they 
don't either, I fear ! 

But Sonia and Olga and Vera 
are mutinous, 

Rightly, I think, at such non- 
sense o'erscrutinouB. 

" This rot take root in us ? 

No, keep salutin' us ! " 

Echo our Mabels and Mauds 
over here ! 



House of Lords. Monday % August 13. — Sony I didn't hear the 
Duke of Aegtll. Have been told he is one of finest orators in House ; 
a type of the antique ; something: to be cherished and honoured. 

rt Were you ever," Sam asked, " at Oban when the games were 
going on P Very well then, you would see the contest among the 
pipers. You have watohed them strutting up and down with head 
thrown back, toes turned out, cheeks extended, and high notes thrill- 
ing through the shrinking air. . There you have Duke of Ajlgyll— 
God bless nim ! — addressing House of Lords. He is not one piper, 
but many. As he proceeds, intoxicated with sound of his own voice, 
ecstatic in clearness of his own vision, he competes with himself as 
the pipers struggle with each other until at last he has, in a Parlia- 
mentary sense of course, swollen to such a size that there is no room 
in the stately chamber for other Peers. Nothing and nobody left but 
His Grace the Duke of Aegtll. Towards end of sixty minutes 
spectacle bejgins to pall on wearied senses ; but to begin with, it is 
almost sublime. For thirty-two years, he told Rosebeby just now, 
he had sat on the opposite benches,; a Member of the liberal Party. 
He sat elsewhere now, but why? Because he was the Liberal Party; 
all the rest like sheep had goner astray. Pretty to see the Maehss 
with blushing head downcast when Aegtll turned round to him and, 
with patronising tone and manner, hailed him and his friends as the 
only party with whom a true Liberal might collogue. In some eir- 
eumstanoes, this bearing would be insupportably bumptious. In the 
Duke, with the time limit hinted at, it is delightful. He really un- 
feignedly believes it alL Sometimes in the dead unhappy night, 
when the rain is on the roof (not an uncommon thing in Inverary) he 
thinks in sorrow rather than in anger of multitudes of men hopelessly 
in the wrong ; that is to say, who differ from his view on particular 
subjects at given times." 

Business done.— Second Reading of Evicted Tenants Bill moved in 

Tuesday. — For awhile last night, whilst Laksdowhe speaking, 
Clahbicarde sat on rear Cross Bench immediately in front of Bar 
where mere Commoners are permitted to stand. Amongst them at 
this moment were Tim Healt, O'Bbieit , and Sexton, leaning over 
rail to catch Lansdowne's remarks. Before them, almost within 
hand reach, certainly approachable at arm's length *ith a good 
shillalegh, was the bald pate of the man who, from some points of 
view, is The Irish Question. Clakbicabdi sat long unconscious of 
the proximity. Saek, not usually a squeamish person, after breath- 
lessly watohmg this strange suggestive contiguity, moved hastily 
away. This is a land of law and order. Differences, if they exist, 
are settled bjr judicial processes. But human nature, especially 
Celtic nature, is weak. The bald pate rested so conveniently on the 
edge of the bench. It was so near ; it had schemed so much for the 
undoing of hapless friends in Ireland. What if • • • 

To-night Clakricabde instinctively moved away from this 
locality. Discovered on back bench below gangway, from which safe 
quarter he delivered speech, showing how blessed is the lot of the 
light-hearted peasant on what he called " my campaign estates." 

The Maejoss and Clakricabde rose together. It was ten o'clock, 
the hour appointed for Leader of Opposition to interpose; in anticipa- 
tion of that event the House crowded from floor to side galleries gar- 
landed with fair ladies. Privy Councillors jostled each other on steps of 
Throne ; at the Bar stood the Commons closely packed ; Tnc Healt, 
anxious not again to be led into temptation, deserted this quarter ; 
surveyed scene from end of Gallery over the Bar. The Habkiss 
stood for a moment at the table manifestly surprised that any should 
question his right to speak. According to Plan of Campaign prepared 
beforehand by Whips now was his time ; Rosebsbt to follow ; and 
Division taken so as to dear House before midnight. Clanricabde 
recks little of Plans of Campaign: stood his ground and finally 
evicted the Mabkiss ; cast him out by the roadside with no other 
compensation than the sympathy of Halsbubt and of Rutland, who 
sat on either side of him. 

When opportunity came the Mabkiss rose to it. Speech delightful 



[August 25, 1894: 

to hear ; every sentence a lesson in style. 
Hard task for youngr Premier to follow so old 
and so perfect a Parliamentary hand. M a hkiss 
spoke to enthusiastically friendly audience. 
Rosebeby recognised in himself the represen- 
tative of miserable minority of thirty ; un- 
daunted, undismayed, he played lightly with 
the ponderous personalities of Argyll, and 
looking beyond the heads of the crowd of icily 
indifferent Peers before him, seemed to see 
the multitude in the street, and to hear the 
murmur of angry voices. 

Business done.— Lords throw out Evicted 
Tenants Bill by 249 votes against 30. 

Thursday, Midnight. — Spent restful even- 
ing with Indian Budget. There is nothing 
exceeds indignation with which Members re- 
sent postponement of opportunity to consider 
Indian Budget, except the unanimity with 
which they stop away when it is presented. 
Number present during Fowler's masterly 
exposition not equal to one per ten million of 
the population concerned. Later, Chaplin 
endeavoured to raise drooping spirits by few 
remarks on bi-metallism. Success only par- 
tial. Clark did much better. Genially 
began evening by accusing Squire of Mal- 
wood of humbugging House. That worth at 
least a dozen votes to Government in Division 
that followed. Tim Healt, who can't abear 
strong language, was one who meant to vote 
against proposal to take remaining time of 
Session for Ministers. After Clare's speech, 
voted with and for the Squike. 

Clark closed pleasant evening by insisting 
on Division upon Statute Law Revision Bill 
running through Committee. 

4 * Will the hon. Member name a teller," 
said Chairman, blandly. 

44 Mr. Conybeabe," responded Clark, in- 
stinctively thinking of Member for Camborne 
as most likely to help in the job he had in 

But Contbeare is a reformed character. 
Even at his worst must draw line somewhere. 
Drew it sharply at Glaus. Appeared as if 
game was up. On the contrary it was Weir. 
Deliberately fixing a pair of cantankerous 
pince-nez that seem to be in chronic condition 
of strike, Weir gazed round angered Com- 
mittee. With slowest enunciation in pro- 
foundest chest notes he said, " I will tell with 
the hon. Member." 

Committee roared with anguished despair : 
but, since procedure in case of frivolous ana 
vexatious Division seems forgotten by Chair, 
no help for it. If there are two Members to 
"tell,* House must be "told." But there 
tyranny of two ceases. Tou may take horse 
to water but cannot make nim drink. 
Similiarly you may divide House, but cannot 
compel Members to vote with you. Thus it 
came to pass that after Division Clark and 
Weir marched up to table with confession 
that they had not taken a single man into the 
Lobby with them. They had told, but they 
had nothing to tell. 

"They're worse off by a moiety than the 
Squire in the Canterbury Tales," said Sark— 
" Him who left half told 
The story of Cambuecan bold." 

44 Yes, poor needy Knife-grinders," said the 
other Squire ; 4i if they 'd only thought of it 
when asked by the Clerk, 4 How many P ' they 
might have answered, 4 Members, (Jed bless 
you, we have none to tell.' " 

Business done.— Indian Budget through 

Friday.— Something notable in question 
addressed by Bry* Roberts to Hoke Secre- 
tary. Wants to know *' whether he is aware 
that the Mr. Williams, the recently appointed 
assistant inspector, who is said to have worked 
at an open quarry, never worked at the rook 
but simply, when a young man, used to piok 

up slabs cast aside by the regular quarrymen, 
and split them into slates; and that, ever 
since, lie has been engaged as a pupil teacher 
and a schoolmaster." 

Shall put notice on paper to ask Bry* 
Roberts whether the sequence therein set 
forth is usual in Wales, and whether picking 
up slabs and splitting' them into slates is the 
customary pathway to pupil teachership. 

Long night in Committee of Supply ; fair 
progress in spite of Weir and Clark. Tim 
Healt sprang ambush on House of Lords: 
moved to stop supplies for meeting their house- 
hold expenses. Nearly carried proposal, too. 
Vote sanctioned by majority of nine, and these 
drawn from Opposition. 

Business done.— Supply. 


Or, The Grand Old Georgic. 

[" The whole care of poultry, the production of 
eggs, care of bees, and the manufacture of butter 
—of itself a most important branch of commerce — 
are really included within the purposes of this 
little institution." — Mr. Gladstone on "Small 
Culture," at the Hatcarden Agricultural and 
Hoit'xcultural Fete, August 14, 18^.] 

G. 0. Melibceus sings .— 
What am I piping about to-day ? 

Butter, and egos, and the care of bees ! 
What shall I praise in my pastoral way ? 

Butter, and eags, and the care of bees ! 
Here I am, smiling, afar from strife, 
(Indifferent substitute, true, for my wife !) 
Discussing, as though they 'd absorbed my life : 

Butter, and eggs, and the care of bees ! 

A Georgic, mv lads, is my task this time. 

Butter, and eggs, and the care of bees ! 
Horace I 've Englished in so-so rhyme, 

Butter, and eggs, and the care of bees! 
To-day I am in a Virgilian vein, 
My pastoral ardour I cannot restrain ; 
And so I will sing, like some Mantuan swain, 

Butter, and eggs, and the care of bees ! 

Home Role P Dear me, no ! Not at all in the 
Butter, and eggs, and the care of bees ! 
(Though Irish butter, you know, is good.) 
Butter, and eggs, and the care of bees ! 
I hear they're yet wrangling down West- 
minster way : 
The " Busy B's " there are still having their 
say. [lay. 

Now the care of those B's— but that is not my 
Butter, and eggs, and the care of bees ! 

" The frugal bee,'' (as the Mantuan sings), 
Butter, and eggs, and the care of bees ! 

Is valued for honey, and not for stings, 
Butter, and eggs, and the care of bees ! 

Poor Habcoubt's hive has a good many 
drones, [that groans P 

And more sting than honey. Eh! Who's 

Well, well, let me sing, in mellifluous tones, 
Butter, and eggs, and the care of bees ! 

The ladies have taken to speeches of late, 
Butter, and eggs, and the care of bees ! 

Serious matter, dear friends, — for the State ! 
Butter, and eggs, and the care of bees ! 

On Female Suffrage I hardly dote, 

But ladies may speak, while they have not 
the vote. — 

Beg pardon! That's hardly the pastoral 
Butter, and eggs, and the care of bees 1 

Not only to flowers we look, but fruits ; 

Butter, and eggs, and the care of bees ! 
Nay, not to them only, but also to roots. 

Butter, and eggs, and the care of bees I 
The root of the matter, in Irish affairs, 
Of course is Home Rule— but there, nobody 

For such subjects here ! Let's sing poultry, 
and pears, 

Butter, and eggs, and the care of bees ! 

This " little culture " 's the theme I'd touch, 

Butter, and eggs, and the care of bees ! 

(Tories pooh-pooh it !— they've none too 

much ! ) 

Butter, and eggs, and the care of bees ! 

But " mickles " soon merge into " muckles " 

you know , 
And from ** little cultures" big aggregates 

Just as small majorities— Woa, there, woa! — 
Butter, and eggs, and the care of bees ! 

Hawarden's example will do much good, — 
Butter, and eggs, and the care of bees ! 

Nay, friends, I am not in a militant mood, — 
Butter, and eggs, and the care of bees .' 

So I don't mean mine, but your own example. 

The powers of the soil are abundant and 

You'll teach men to furnish— and up to 
Butter, and eggs, and the care of bees ! 

I'm a little bit tired— in a physical sense — 
Butter, and eggs, and the care of bees ! 
But my pleasure in pastoral things is immense, 

Butter, and eags, and the care of bees ! 
My Georgic to-day I must cut short, I fear, 
But— if you desire— and we 're all of us here, 
I may give you a much longer Eologue — next 
Butter, and eggs, and the care of bees ! 


{On his Revival of the Ministerial lVhUebait 
Dinner at the "Ship," Qreenunch, Wed- 
nesday, August 15, 1894.) 

Goon. Primrose ! If not a fanatical * ' Saint," 

At least you're a genial " Sinner." 
At the thought of a Race— and a Win— you 
won't faint, 
Nor squirm at a loss— with a Dinner ! 
Pluck, patience, and cheer make good States- 
manlike form. 
We trust that you relished the trip, Sir ! 
If not— yet— " the Pilot who weathered the 
You're the Skipper who stuck by the 
44 Ship," Sir! 

The Old (Parliamentary) Adam. 

(On the Eve if Prorogation.) 

Would-be Abdiel (M.P.) loquitur .— 

With rest-thirst and holiday-yearning to 

I strive, out in August begin to despair. 
I pity poor Eve with the thirst at her thrapple, 
Though what tempted her was a snake and an 

apple, r*Kr^rs,\*> 

My lures are 4 * a brace " and a " pair." 

Scptuibkb 1, 1894.] 





Lardy-Dardy Swell (who is uncertain as to the age of Ingenue he is 
addressing). " You 're going to give a Ball. Will you permit 
ice to send you a Bouquet ! And is there anything else you 
would like i " 

Ingenue. "0, thanes! The Bouquet would be delightful! 
and" — [hesitating, then after some consideration) — "I 'm sure Mamma 
would lies the Ices and Sponge Cakes 1 " 



(By St. Anthony Hope Carter.) 

The redeeming feature of the morning batch of letters was a short 
note from Lady Mickleham. Her ladyship (and Archie) had come 
back to town, and the note was to say that I might call, in fact that 
I teas to call, that afternoon. It so happened that I had two engage- 
ments, which seemed to make that impossible, but I spent a shilling 
in telegrams, and at 4.30 (the hour Dolly had named) was duly 
ringing at the Mickleham town mansion. 

" I 'm delighted you were able to come," was Dolly's greeting. 

44 1 wasn't able," I said • 4i but I 've no doubt that what I said in 
the two telegrams which brought me here will be put down to your 

44 No one expects truth in a telegram. The Post-Office people 
themselves wouldn't like it." 

Dolly was certainly looking at her very best. Her dimples 
(everybody has heard of Dolly's Dimples— or is it Dolly Dimple ; 
but after all it doesn't matter) were as delightful as ever. I was 
just hesitating as to my next move in the Dialogue, which I badly 
wanted, for I had promised my editor one by ihe middle of next 
week, The choice lay between the dimples and a remark that life 
was, after all, only one prolonged telegram. Just at that moment I 
noticed for the first time that we were not alone. 

Now that was distinctly exasperating, and an unwarrantable 
breach of an implied contract. 

44 Two 's company," I said, in a tone of voice that was meant to 
indicate something of what I felt. 

44 So 's three," said Dolly, laughing, u if the third doesn't count." 

44 Quod est demonstrandum" 

44 Well, it 's like this. I observed that you 've already published 

twenty or so 4 Dolly Dialogues.' " (The dimples at this period were 
absolutely bewitching, but I controlled myself.) 44 8o it occurred to 
me that it was my turn to earn an honest penny. Allow me to 
introduce you. Mr. Brown, Mr. Carter— Mr. Carter, Mr. Brown." 

I murmured that any friend of Lady Mickxeham's was a friend 
of mine, whereat Mr. Brown smiled affably and handed me his card, 
from which I gathered that he was a shorthand 
writer at some address in Chancery Lane. Then 
I understood it all. I had exploited Dolly. 
Dolly was now engaged in the process of ex- 
ploiting me. 

44 1 hope," I observed rather icily, 44 that you 
will choose a respectable paper." 

44 You don't mean that." 

44 Perhaps not. But if we are to have a ' 
Dialogue, perhaps we might begin. I have an 
engagement at six." 

** Telegraph, and put the contents down to 
my account. 

I noticed now that Dolly had a pile of pa- 
pers on her table, and that she was playing 
with a blue pencil. 

44 Yes, Lady Mickleham," I said, in the 
provisional way in which judges indicate to 
counsel that they are ready to proceed. 

44 Well, I 've been reading some of the Press Notices of the Dia- 
logues, Mr. Carter." 

1 trembled. J remembered some of the things that had been said 
about Dolly and myself, which hardly lent themselves, it appeared 
to me, to this third party procedure. 

44 1 thought," pursued Dolly, * 4 we might spend the time in dis- 
cussing the critics." 

44 1 shall be delighted, if in doing that we shall dismiss the 

14 Have you seen this P It 's from a Scotch paper— Scottish ? you 
suggest— well, Scottish. * The sketches are both lively and elegant, 
and their lightness is just what people want in the warm weather.' " 

** It 's a satisfaction to think that even our little breezes are a 
source of cool comfort to our fellow-creatures." 

44 Here 's another criticism. 4 It 's a book which tempts the 
reader '" 

44 It must have been something you said." 

14 4 a book which tempts the reader to peruse from end to 

end when once he picks it up.' " 

44 4 Read at a Sitting : A Study in Colour.' " 

44 Please, Mr. Brown, don't take that down." 

44 Thank you, Lady Mickleham," said I. 44 Litera scrrpta manet." 

44 You are not the Chancellor of the Exchequer, Mr. Carter, and 
you must break yourself of the habit." 

44 The next cutting?" 

44 The next says, 4 For Mr. Carter, the hero or reporter ' " 

44 It 's a calumny. I don't know a single shorthand symbol." 

44 Let me go on. 4 Reporter of these polite conversations, wc 
confess we have no particular liking.' " 

44 If you assure me you did not write this yourself, Lady Mickle- 
ham, I care not who aid." 

44 That, Mr. Brown," said Dolly, in a most becoming frown, 
44 must on no account go down." 

4 'When you have finished intimidating the Press, perhaps you 
will finish the extract." 

44 4 His cynicism,' " she read, 44 4 is too strained to commend him to 
ordinary mortals ' " 

44 No one would ever accuse you of being in that category." 

444 but his wit is undeniable, and his impudence delicious.' 

Well, Mr. Carter?" 

44 1 should like the extract concluded." I knew the next sentence 
commenced— 44 As for Dolly, Lady Mickleham, she outdoes all the 
revolted daughters of feminine fiction." 

Then an annoying thing happened. Archie's voice was heard, 
saying, 44 Dolly, haven't you finished that Dialogue yet? We 
ought to dress for dinner. It '11 take us an hour to drive there." 

So it had been all art an g d, and Archie knew for what I had been 

Yet there are compensations. Dolly sent the Dialogue to the only 
paper which I happen to edit. I regretfully declined it. But the 
fact that she sent it may possibly explain why I have found it so 
easy to give this account of what happened on that afternoon when 
I sent the two telegrams. 

The Cry of Chaos. 

44 Vive V Anarchic f "—Fools ! Chaos shrieks in that cry ! 
Did Anarchy live soon would Anarchists die. 
One truth lights all history, well understood,— 

Disorder— like Saturn—devours its own brood. 




[Sbptembki 1, 1894. 

Digitized by 


Sbotkmbbr 1, 1894.] 



Experienced Jock (during preliminary carder, to Stable-boy, who has been put up to make the running for him). "Now, TOVKO 'UN, AS 


Stable-boy (Irish). " Begorra thin Oi 'm thinkin* it 's msself roidbs the Race, and you pockets all the credit o' Winnin* 1 " 


[" Mr. Hbbbert Gladstone, as First Commis- 
sioner of Works, informed the House that 'no 
series of historical personages could be complete 
without the inclusion of Cromwell,' and though 
he had no sum at bis disposal for defraying the 
cost of a statue this year, Sir William Har- 
court, as Chancellor of the Exchequer, had pro- 
mised to make the necessary provision in the 
Estimates for next year."— Spectator.] 

Room for the Regicide amongst our Kings? 

Horrible thought, to set some bosoms 

fluttering ! 

The whirligig of time does bring some things 

To set the very Muse of History muttering. 

Well may the brewer's son, uncouth and 

Murmur— in scorn—' ' I hope I don't intrude ! " 

Room, between Charles the fair and un- 

veracious, — 

Martyr and liar, made comely by Vandyke, — 

And' Charles the hireling, callous and 

salacious ? 

Strange for the sturdy Huntingdonian tyke 

To stand between Court spaniel and sleek 

hound ! 
Surely that whirligig hath run full round ! 

Exhumed, cast out !— among our Kings set 

(Which were the Iroe dishonour Noll 

might question.) 
The sleek false Stuarts well might shrug 

and sigh 
Make zoom— for him t A monstrous, mad 

Right Divine, most picturesque quaint 

How art thou fallen upon evil days ! 

What will White Rose fanatics say to this ? 
Stuartomaniaos will ye not come wailing ; 
Or fill these aisles with one gregarious hiss 

Of angry scorn, one howl of bitter railing P 
To think that Charles the trickster, Charles 

the droll, 
Should thus be hob-a-nobbed by red-nosed 

Metbinks I hear the black-a- vised one sneer 
44 Ods bobs, Sire, this is what I 've long 
expected ! 
If they had him % and not his statue, here 
Some other 4 baubles ' might be soon 
Dark Strafford— I mean Salisrury— might 

More than his Veto, did he play the goose. 

44 He'd find perchance that Huntingdon was 

Than Leeds with all its Programmes. Noll 

might vow 
That Measure-murder should go on no 

longer ; 
And that Obstruction he would check and 

Which would disturb Macallum More's 

composure ; 
The Axe is yet more summary than the 

Closure ! 

44 As for the Commons— both with the Rad 
4 Rump' 
And Tory 4 Tail' alike he might deal 
He 'd have Email mercy upon prig or pump ; 
I wonder what he v d think of B-wl-s and 


Depend upon it, Noll would purge the place 
Of much beside Sir Harry and the Mace." 

Tour Majesties make room there— for a Man! 

Yes, after several centuries of waiting, 
It seems that Smug Officialism's plan 
A change from the next Session may be 
Tou tell us, genial Herbert Gladstone, 

that you 
May find the funds, next year, for Crom- 
well's Statue ! 

Room for a Big One ! Well the Stuart pair 
May gaze on that stout shape as on a 
Subject for England's sculptors it is rare 
To find like that of England's Great Pro- 
tector ; 
And he with bigot folly is imbued, 
Who deems that Cromwell's Statute can 


(Cry of the Cockney Street Child.) 

Spearing of our Neo-Neurotic and * 4 Per- 
sonal" Novelists, James Payn says: 44 None 
of the authors of these works are story- 
tellers." No, not in his own honest, whole- 
some, stirring sense, certainly. But, like 
other naughty— and nasty-minded— children, 
they 4i tell stories " in their own way ; 44 great 
big stories," too, and " tales out of school " 
into the bargain. Having, like the Needy 
Knife-grinder, no story (in the true cense) to 
tell, they tell— well, let us say, tara-diddles ! 
Truth is stranger than even their fiction, but 
it is not always so 44 smart" or so 44 risky " as 
a loose, long-winded, flippant, cynical and 
personal literary * 4 lie which is half a truth." 
in three sloppy, slangy, but * 4 smart "—on, 



[September 1, 1894. 


(A Story in Scenes.) 


Scene XVI. — The Chinese Drawing Room at Wyvern. 
Time— 7.50. Lady Culverin is alone, glancing over a written list. 

Lady Cantire {entering). Down already, Alblnia P I thought if I 
made haste I should get a quiet chat witn you before anybody else 
came in. What is that paper ? Oh, the list of couples for Rupert. 
May I see P (As Lady Culverin surrenders it.) My dear, you're 
not going to inflict that mincing little Pujjner boy on poor Maibte ! 
That really wonH do. At least let her have somebody she 's used to. 
Why not Captain Thicknesse P He 's an old friend, and she 's not seen 
him for months. I must alter that, if you ' ve no obj eotion. ( She does. ) 
And then you've given my poor Poet 
to that Spelwanb girl ! Now, why t 

Lady Culverin. I thought she 
wouldn't mind putting up with him 
just for one evening. 

Lady Cant. Wouldn't mind/ Put- 
ting up with him ! And is that how 
you speak of a celebrity when you are 
so fortunate as to have one to entertain P 
Really, Albinia ! 

Lady Culv. But, my dear Rohesia, 
you must allow that, whatever his 
talents may be, he is not— well, not 
qtdte one of Us. Now, is he? 

Lady Cant, (blandly). My dear t I 
never heard he had any connection 
with the manufacture of chemical 
manures, in which your worthy Paga 
so greatly distinguished himself— if 
that is what you mean. 

Lady Cuh. (with some increase of 
colour). That is not what I meant, 
Rohesia— as you know perfectly well. 
And I do say that this Mr. Spurrell's 
manner is most objectionable ; when he's 
not obsequious, he 's horribly familiar ! 

Lady Cant, (sharply). I have not 
observed it He strikes me as well 
enough— for that class of person. And 
it is intellect, soul, all that kind of 
thing that I value. I look below the 
surface, and I find a neat deal that is 
very original and charming in this 
young man. And surely, my dear l if 
I find myself able to associate with 
him, you need not be so fastidious ! 
I consider him my protSgi, and I won't 
have him slighted. He is far too good 
for Vivien Spel wane ! 

Lady Culv. (with just a suspicion of = 
malice). Perhaps, Rohesia, you would 
like him to take you in P 

Lady Cant. That, of course, is quite 
out of the question. I see you have 
given me the Bishop— he 's a poor, dry 
stick of a man— never forgets he was 
the Headmaster of Swisham— but he 's 
always glad to meet me. I freshen 
him up so. 

Lady Culv. I really don't know whom 
I can give Mr. Spurrell. There's 
Rhoda Cokatne, but she's not poe- 
tical, and she'll get on much better with Archie Bearpark. Oh, 
I forgot Mrs. Brooke-Chatteris— she 's sure to talk, at all events. 

Lady Cant, (as she corrects the list). A lively, agreeable woman — 
she'll amuse him. Now you can give Rupert the list. 

[Sir Rupert and various members of the house-party appear one 
by one ; Lord and Lady Lullington, the Bishop of Bir- 
chester and Mrs. Rodney, and Mr. and Mrs. Earwaker, 
and Mr. Shorthorn are announced at intervals; salutations, 
recognitions, and commonplaces are exchanged. 

Lady Cant, (later — to the Bishop, genially). Ah, my dear 
Dr. Rodney, you and I haven't met since we had our great battle 
about— now, was it the neoessity of throwing open the Public Schools 
to the lower classes— for whom of course they were originally 
intended— -or was it the failure of the Church to reach the Working 
Man P I really forget. 

The Bishop (who has a holy horror of the Countess). I -ah— fear 
I cannot charge my memory so precisely, my dear Lady Cantire. 
We— ah -differ unfortunately on so many subjects. I trust, how- 
ever, we may— ah— agree to suspend hostilities on this occasion P 

go in 

" I 'd rather a job to get these things on ; but they 're really a 
wonderful fit, considering ! " 

Lady Cant, (with even more bonhomie). Don't be too sure of 
Bishop. I 've several crows to pluck with you, and we are to i 
to dinner together, you know ! 

The Bishop. Indeed P I had no conception that such a pleasure 
was in store for me! (To himself.) This must be the nenance for 
breaking my rule of never dining out on Saturday ! Severe— but 

Lady Cant. I wonder, Bishop, if you have seen this wonderful 
volume of poetry that everyone is talking about— Andromeda t 

The Bishop (conscientiously). I chanced only this morning, by 
way of momentary relaxation, to take up a journal containing a 
notice of that work, with oopious extracts. The impression left on 
my mind was— ah— unfavourable ; a certain talent, no doubt, some 
felicity of expression, but a noticeable lack of the— ah — reticence, 
the discipline, the— the scholarly touch which a training at one of 
our great Publio Schools (I forbear to 
particularise), and at a University, 
can alone impart I was also pained 
to observe a crude discontent with the 
existing Social System — a system 
which, if not absolutely perfect, cannot 
be upset or even modified without the 
gravest danger. But I was still more 
distressed to note in several passages a 
decided taint of the morbid sensuous- 
ness which renders so much of our 
modern literature sickly and unwhole- 

Lady Cant. All prejudice, my dear 
Bishop; why .you haven't even read 
the book! However, the author is 
staying here now, and I feel convinced 
that fit you only knew him, you'd 
alter your opinion. Such an unas- 
suming, inoffensive creature ! There, 
he 's just come in. I '11 call him over 
here. . . . Goodness, why does he shuffle 
along in that way ! 

SpurreU(meeUng Sir Rupert) . Hope 
I 've kept nobody waiting for me, Sir 
Rupert. (Confidentially.) I'd rather 
a job to get these things on; but 
they're really a wonderful fit, con- 
sidering ! 

[Me passes on, leaving his host 
Lady Cant. That's right, Mr. Spur- 
bell. Come here, and let me present 
you to the Bishop of Berchesteb, The 
Bishop has just been telling me he 
considers your Andromeda sickly, or 
unhealthy, or something. I 'm sure 
you'll be able to convince him it's 
nothing of the sort. 

[She leaves him with the Bishop, 
who is visibly annoyed. 
Spurr. (to himself, overawed). Oh, 
Lor I Wish I knew the right way to 
talk to a Bishop. Can't call him no- 
thing—so dooaid familiar. (Aloud.) 
Andromeda sickly, your — (tentatively) 
—your Right Reverence P Not a bit 
of it— sound as a roach ! 

The Bishop. If I had thought my 
—ah— criticisms were to be repeated — 
I might say misrepresented, as the 
Countess has thought proper to do, 
Mr. Spurrell, I should not have ventured to make them. At the 
same time, you must be conscious yourself, I think, of certain 
blemishes which would justify the terms I employed. 

Spurr. I never saw any in Andromeda myself, your— your Holi- 
ness. You 're the first to find a fault in her. I don't say there 
mayn't be something dicky about the setting and the turn of tne tail, 
but that 's a trifle. 

The Bishop. I did not refer to the setting of the tale, and the 
portions I object to are scarcely trifles. But pardon me if I prefer to 
end a discussion that is somewhat unprofitable. ( To himself, as he 
turns on his heel.) A most arrogant, self-satisfied, and conceited 
young man— a truly lamentable produot of this half -educated age ! 

Spurr. (to himself). Well, he may be a dab at dogmas— he don't 
know muoh about dogs. Drum my ' s got a constitution worth a dozen 
of At*/ 

Lady Culv. (approaching him). Oh, Mr. Spurrell, Lord Lullino- 
ton wishes to know you. If you will come with me. (To herself, 
as she leads him up to Lord L.) I do wish Rohesia wouldn't force 
me to do this sort of thing ! ( [Si 

Digitizer! hy 

18***** Mm. 

September 1, 1894.] 



Lord Lullington (to himself). I suppose I ought to know all about 
his novel, or whatever it is he 's done. (Aloud, with courtliness.) Very 
pleased to make your acquaintance, Mr. Spubbell ; you 've— ah— 
delighted the world by your Andromeda. When are we to look for 
your next production r Soon, I hope. 

Spurr. (to himself). He 's after a pup now ! Never met such a 
doggy lot in my life ! (Aloud.) Er— well, my lord, I 've promised 
so many as it is, that I hardly see my way to— — 

Lord Lull, (paternally). Take my advice, my dear young man, 
leave yourself as free as possible. Expect you to give us your best, 
you know. [He turns to continue a conversation. 

Spurr. (to himself). Give it ! He won't get it under a five-pound 
note. I can tell him. (He makes his way to Miss Spelwane.) I say, 
what do you think the old Bishop's oeen up toP Pitching into 
Andromeda like the very dooce— says she 's sickly ! 

Miss Speltcane (to herself). He brings his literary disappointments 
to me. not Mamie I (Aloud, with the sweetest sympathy.) How 
dreadfully unjust! Oh, I've dropped my fan— no, pray don't 
trouble ; I can pick it up. My arms are so long, you know— like a 
kangaroo's- no, what is that animal which has such long arms? 
Tou 're so clever, you ought to know ! 

Spurr. I suppose you mean a gorilla ? 

Miss Spelw. How crushing of you ! But you must go away now, 
or else you '11 find nothing to say to me at dinner— you take me in, 

you know. I hope you f eel privileged. I feel But if I told you, 

I might make you too conceited I 

Spurr. Oh, no, you wouldn't. 

[Sir Rupert approaches with Mr. Shobthobn. 

Sir Rupert. Vivien, my dear, let me introduce Mr. Shobthobn— 
Miss Spelw an*. (To Spubbell.) Let me see— ha— yes. you take in 
Mrs. Chattebis. Don't know her? Come this way, and I ll find her 
for you. [He marches Spubbell of. 

Mr. Shorthorn (to Miss Spelwane). Good thing getting this rain 
at last ; a little more of this dry weather and we should have had no 
grass to speak of ! 

Miss Spelw. (who has not quite recovered from her disappoint- 
ment). And now you will have some grass to speak of r How 
fortunate ! 

Spurr. (as dinner is announced, to Lady Maisie). I say, Lady 
Mai8ie, I 've just been told I 've got to take in a married lady. I 
don't know what to talk to her about. I should feel a lot more at 
home with you. Couldn't we manage it somehow t 

Lady Maisie (to herself). What a fearful suggestion— but I 
simply daren't snub him ! (Aloud.) I'm afraid, Mr. Spubbell, we 
must both put up with the partners we have j most distressing, isn't 
it— but I [She gives a little shrug. 

Captain Thicknesse (immediately behind her, to himself). Gad. 
that' b pleasant! I knew I'd better have gone to Aldershotl 
(Aloud.) I 've been told off to take you in, Lady Maisie, not my 
fault, don't you know. 

Lady Maisie. There's no need to be so apologetic about it. (To 
herself.) Oh, I hope he didn't hear what I said to that wretch. 

Capt. Thick. Well, I rather thought there might be, perhaps. 

Lady Maisie (to herself). He didhesi it. If he's going to be so 
stupid as to misunderstand, I 'm sure I shan't explain. 

[They take their placi in the procession to the Dining Hall. 


Volume I. — Awakening. 
And so the work was done. Belinda, after a year's hard writing, 
had completed her self-apnointed task. Douglas the Doomed One 
had grown by degrees into its present proportions. First the initial 
volume was completed ; then the second 
was finished ; and now the third was 
ready for the printer's hands. But who 
should have it? Ah, there was the 
rub ! Belinda knew no publishers and 
had no influence. How could she get 
anyone to take the novel up P And yet, 
if she was to believe the Author, there 
was plenty of room for untried talent. 
According to that interesting periodical 
publishers were constantly on the look- 
out for undiscovered jjenius. Why 
should she not try the firm of Messrs. 
Binding and Pbint P She made up her mind. She set her face 
hard, and muttered, " Yes. they shall do it ! Douglas the Doomed 
One shall appear with the assistance of Messrs. Binding and 
Pbint ! " And when Belinda made up her mind to do anything, 
not wild omnibus-horses would turn her from her purpose. 

(A Reformer* t Note to a Current Controversy.) 

Oh, unffallant must be the man indeed 
Who calls " nine women out of ten " ** knock 

And he should not remain in peace for 

Who says " the nether limbs of women " are 

44 ail wrong." 
Such are the arguments designed to prove 
That Woman's ill-advised to make a move 
To mannish clothes. These arguments are 

As to be of the kind that prove too much. 
If Woman' 8 limbs in truth unshapely grow, 
The present style of dress just makes them so! 

QUEER QUERIES.— A Question of Tebms.— I am sometimes 
allowed, by the kindness of a warder, to see a newspaper, and I have 
just read that some scientific cove says that man's natural life is 105 
years. Now is this true Y I want to know, because I am in here 
for what the Judge called 4t the term of my natural life," and, if it 
is to last for 105 years, I consider I have been badly swindled. I say 
it quite respectfully, and I hope the Governor will allow the ex- 
pression to pass. Please direct answers to Her Majesty's Prison, 
Prinoetown, Devon.— No. 67. 

Volume IL— Wide Awake. 

Messrs. Binding and Pbint had received their visitor with 
courtesy. They did not require to read Douglas the Doomed One. 
They had discovered that it was sufficiently long to make the regula- 
tion three volumes. That was all that was necessary. They would 
accept it. They would be happy to publish it. 

44 And about terms ? " murmured Belinda. 

44 Half profits," returned Mr. Binding, with animation. 

44 When we have paid for the outlay we shall divide the residue," 
cried Mr. Pbint. 

41 And do you think I shall soon get a cheque P" asked the 
anxious authoress. 

44 Well, that is a question not easy to answer. Tou see, we 
usually spend any money we make in advertising. It does the work 
good in the long run, although at first it rather checks the profits." 

Belinda was satisfied, ana took her departure. 

44 We must advertise Douglas the Doomed One in the Skate- 
maker's Quarterly Magazine? said Mr. Bindeb. 

44 And in the Crossing Sweeper's Annual," replied Mr. Pbint. 
Then the two partners smiled at one another knowingly. They 
laughed as they remembered that of both the periodicals they had 
mentioned they were the proprietors. 

Volume III.— Fast Asleep. 
m The poor patient at Slocum-on-Slush moaned. He had been prac- 
tically awake for a month, and nothing could send him to sleep. 
The Doctor held his wrist, and as he felt the rapid beats of his pulse 
became graver and graver. 

44 Ana you have no friends, no relatives P " 

44 No. My only visitor was the man who brought that box of 
books from a metropolitan library." 

44 A box of books 1 " exclaimed the the Doctor. " There may yet be 
time to save his life ! " 

The man of science rose abruptly, and approaching the casket con- 
taining the current literature of the day, roughly forced it open. He 
hurriedly inspected its contents. He turned over the volumes im- 
patiently until he reached a set. 

41 The very thing ! " he murmured. 4< If I can but get him to read 
this he will oe saved." Then turning to his patient he continued, 
44 Tou should peruse this novel. It is one that I recommend in case9 
such as yours. ' 

44 1 am afraid I am past reading," returned the invalid. 44 How- 
ever, I will do my best." 

An hour later the Doctor (who had had to make some calls) re- 
turned and found that his patient was sleeping peacefully. The first 
volume of Douglas the Doomed One had the desired result. 

44 Excellent, excellent," murmured the medico. 44 It had the same 
effect upon another of my patients. The crisis is over ! He will now 
recover like the other. Insomnia has been conquered for the second 
time by Douglas the Doomed One, and who now shall say that the 
three- volume novel of the amateur is not a means of spreading 
civilisation P It must be a mine of wealth to somebody." 

And Messrs. Binding and Pbint. had they heard the Doctor's re- 
mark, would have agreed with him! 

All the Difference. 

44 The Speakeb then called Mr. Little to order." 
Quite right in our wise and most vigilant warder. 
He calls us to order I Oh that, without f us*, 
The Speakeb could only call Order to us ! 





[September 1, 1894. 

"Mr pork Yabbit *s dead 1' 


(In a Children's Hospital.) 
1 flow sad ! " " Dadda killed my pore Yabbit in Back Kitchen 1 " 


'Oh DEARl* 


[" I desire to submit that this is a very great question, which will have to 
be determined, but upon a very different ground from that of the salaries of 
the officers of the House of Lords. ... If there is to be a contest between 
the House of Lords and the House of Commons, let us take it upon higher 
ground than this." — Sir William Harcourt.] 

There was a little urchin, and he had an old horse-pistol. 
Which he rammed with powder damp and shots of lead, lead, 

And he cried " I know not fear ! I '11 go stalking of the deer ! " 
For this little cove was slightly off his head, head, head. 

This ambitions little lad was a Paddy and a Rad, 
And himself he rather fancied as a shot, shot, shot ; 

And he held the rules of sport, and dose season, and, in short, 
The " regulation rubbish" was all rot, rot, rot. 

He held a " bird " a thing to oe potted on the wing, 
Or perched upon a hedge, or up a tree, tree, tree ; 

And, says he, " If a foine stag I can add to my small bag, 
A pistol or a Maxim will suit me, me, me!" 

And so upon all fours he would crawl about the moors, 
To the detriment of elbows, knees, and slack, slack, slack ; 

And he says, " What use a-talking ? If I choose to call this * stalk- 
And I bag my game, who 's going to hould me back, back, back ? " 

Savs he, " I scoff at raisons, and btale talk of toimes and saisons ; 

1 'm game to shoot a fox, or spear a stag, stag, stag ; 
Nay, I 'd net, or club, a salmon ; your old rules of sport are gammon, 

For wid me it 's just a question of the bag, bag, bag ! 

" There are omadhauns, I know, who would let a foine buck go 
Just bekase 'twas out of toime, or they 'd no gun, gun, gun ; 

But if oi can hit, and hurt, wid a pistol— or a squirt— 
By jabers, it is all the betther fun, fun, fun P' 

So he scurryfunged around with his stomach on the ground 
(For stalking seems of crawling a mere branch, branch, branch). 

And he spied n a stag of ton," and he cried, ** Hurroo ! Now then, 
I fancy I can hit Kim— ia the haunch, haunch haunch ! 

41 Faix ! I '11 bag that foine Staff Royal, or at any rate oi *U troy all 
The devoices of a sportshman from the Oiale, Oisle, Oisle. 

One who 's used to shoot asprawl from behoind a hedge or wall, 
At the risks of rock and heather well may smoile, smoile, smoile ! " 

But our sportsman bold, though silly, by a stalwart Highland gillie, 
Was right suddenly arrested ere he fired, fired, fired. — 

44 Hoots ! If you'll excuse the hint, that old thing, with look of 
As a weapon for this sport can't be admired, mired, mired ! 

" It will not bring down that quarry, your horse-pistol ! Don't you 
worry ! 

That Royal Stag we '11 stalk, boy, in good time, time, time ; 
But to pop at it just now, and kick up an awful row, 

Scare, and miss it were a folly, nay a orime, crime, orime ! 

11 Be you sure * Our Party ' will this fine quarry track and kill ; 

Our guns need not your poor toy blunderbuss, buss, huts. 
This is not the time or place for a-following up this chase ; 

So just clear out and leave this game to us, us, us ! " 


[Baron Mundy, the founder of the valuable Vienna Voluntary Sanitary 
Ambulance Society, mighty foe of disease and munificent dispenser of charity, 
shot himself on Thursday, August 23, on the banks of the Danube, at the 
advanced age of 72.] 

Great sanitary leader and reformer, 

Disease's scourge and potent pest-house stormer ; 

Successful foe of cholera aforetime, 

Perfecter of field-ambulance in war-time ; 

Dispenser of a fortune in large charity ; 

Vaie ! Such heroes are in sooth a rarity. 

Alas, that you in death should shock Dame Grundy ! 

That we should sigh " Sic transit gloria Mukdi ! " 

A Clothes Division (of Opinion).— It is said that Woman can- 
not afford to alter her style of dress, since her limbs are " all wrong.' 
Clear, therefore, that however much Woman's Wrongs need re- 
dressing, All- Wrong Women don't ! 

Jjj I iitirfid h Y v ^ YY 

Digitized by 


September 1, 1894.] 



Q. E. D. 

1 What *s up wi' Sal ? " "Ain't tee erd ? She 's Married agin 1" 


(A Tragedy -Farce in several painful Scenes, 
with many unpleasant Situations.) 

Locality— The Interior of Country Place 
taken for the Shooting^ Season. Pre- 
parations for a feast in all directions. 
It is Six o r Clock, and the household are 
eagerly waiting the appearance of Mon- 
tagu Maemaduke, the Auxiliary Butler, 
sent in by Contract. Enter Montagu 
Marmaduke, in comic evening dress. 

If aster (looking at Montagu with an ex- 
pression of disappointment on his face). What 
vxejuou the man they have «ent me ?• 

Montagu. Yessir. And I answers to Mon- 
tagu Marmaduke, or some gentlemen prefers 
to call me by my real name* Bines. 

Master. Oh, Montagu will do. I hope you 
know your duties ? 

3fow.\Which I was in service, Sir, with 
Sir Barnaby Jinks, for twenty-six years, 


Master. Very well, I daresay you will do. 
I suppose jou know about the wine ? 

Mon. lessir. In course. I've been a tee- 
totaler ever since I left Sir Barnaby's. 

Master (retiring). And mind, do not 
murder the names ot the guests. [Exit. 

[The time goes on, and Company arrive. 
Montagu ushers them upstairs, and an- 
nounces them under various aliases. Sir 
Heney Eisterfodd is introduced as Sir 
'EnebyEastebegg, #c.,<$r. After small 
talk, the guests find their way to the 
Mon. (to Principal Guest). Do you take 
sherry, claret, or 'ock, my Lady ? 

Principal Guest (interrupted in a conver- 
sation). Claret, please. 

[Montagu promptly pours the required liquid 
on to the table-cloth. 

Master. I must apologise, but our Butler, 
who is on trial, is very snort-sighted. 

P. Guest Evidently. 
[The wine is brought round; Montagu m- 
terruvting the conversation with his hos- 
pitable suggestions, and pouring claret 
into champagne glasses, and champagne 
into sherries. 
Nervous Guest (in an undertone to Mon- 
tagu). Do you think you could get me, by- 
and-by, a piece of bread ? 

Mon. Bread, Sir, yessir! (In stentorian 
tones.) Here, Nisbet, bring this gent some 
bread ! 

[The unfortunate guest, who is overcome 

with confusion at having attracted so 

much attention, is waited upon by Nisbet. 

Master (savagely). Can't you go about 

more quietly ? 

Mon. (hurt). Certainly, Sir. When I was 
with Sir Babnaby (Disappears murmur- 
ing to himself, and returns with entree, 
which he lets fall on dress of Principal Guest). 
Be£ pardon, my Lady, but it was my stud, 
which would come undone. Very sorry, 

indeed, Mum, but if you will allow me 

[Produces a soiled dinner-napkin with a 
flourish. t 
P. Guest (in much alarm). No thanks ! 
[General commiseration, and, a little later, 
disappearance of ladies. After this, 
Montagu does not reappear except to 
call obtrusively for carnages, ana tout 
for tips. 
P. Guest (on bidding her host good-night). 
I can assure you my gown was not injured 
in the least. I am quite sure it was only 
an accident. 

Master (bowing). You are most kind. 
( With great severity.) Asa matter of fact, 
the man only came to us this afternoon, but, 
after what has happened, he shall not remain 
in my service another hour ! I shall dismiss 
him to-night ! 

[Exit Principal Guest. Master pays Mon- 
tagu the agreed fee for his services for 
the evening. Curtain. 


You ask me, Madam, if by chance we meet, 
For money just to keep upon its feet 
That hospital, that school, or that retreat, 
That home. 

I help that hospital ? My doctor's fee 
Absorbs too much. Alas ! I cannot be 
An inmate there myself ; he comes to me 
At home. 

Do not suppose I have too close a fist. 
Rent, rates, bills, taxes, make a fearful list ; 
I should be homeless if I did assist 
That home. 

I must — it is my impecunious lot — 
Economise the little I have got ; 
So if I see you coming I am " not 

At home." 

My clothes are shabby. How I should be 

Bv tailor, hatter, hosier, whom I 've shunned, 
If I supported that school clothing fund, 
That home! 

I 'd help if folks wore nothing but their skins ; 
This hat, this coat, at which the street-boy 

Remind me still that " Charity begins 
At home." 

Kiss versus Kiss. 

On the cold cannon's mouth the Kiss of Peace 
Should fall like flowers, and bid its bellow- 

ings cease I— 
But ah ! that Kiss of Peace seems very far 
From being as strong as the Hotchkiss of War! 



[Skptoibkb 1, 1894. 


Country Vicar. " Well, John, what do you think of London f " 

Yokel. "Lob' bless ybb, Sib, it 'll bb a Finb Placb whmn it's Finished!' 


( With Mr. Punch's Compliments to the Gentleman 
who will have to design " that statue") 

"You really must join the Army," said 
the stern old Puritan to the Lord Protector. 
"The fate of this fair realm of England 
depends upon the promptness with which 
you assume command." 

Oliver Cromwell paused. He had laid 
aside his huff douhlet. and had donned a ooat 
of a thinner material. His sword also was 
gone, and hanging hy his side was a pair of 
double ppy-glasses-new in those days— new 
in very deed. 

" I cannot go." cried the Lord Protector at 
last, " it would be too great a sacrifice." 

44 You said not that," pursued Ireton— for 
it was he— 44 when you called upon Charles 
to lose his head." 

41 But in this case, good sooth, I would 
wish a head to be won, or the victory to be 
by a head ; " and then the Uncrowned King 
laughed long and heartily, as was his wont 
when some jest tickled him. 

44 This is no matter for merriment," ex- 
claimed Ireton sternly. 44 Oliver, you are 
playing the fool. You are sacrificing for 
pleasure, business, duty." 

44 Well, I cannot help it," was the response. 
44 But mind you, Ireton, it shall be the last 

44 What is it that attracts you so strongly P 
What is the pleasure that lures you away 
from the path of duty P " 

44 1 will tell you, and then you will pity, 

perchance forgive me. To-day my horse runs 
at Epsom. With luck his chance is a cer- 
tainty. So farewell." Then the two old 
friends grasped hands and parted. One went 
to fight on the blood-stained field of battle, 
and the other to see the race for the Derby. 


At Tdcbertoeb his Captain rails 

As one in doleful dumps : 
Oft given 4i leg before "—the bails, 

Not bat before— the stumps. 
The Genevese Professor Yu*o 

Believes the time approaches 
When man will lose his legs, ill-slung, 

Through trams, oars, cabs, and coaches; 
Or that those nether limbs will be 

The merest of survivals. 
The thought fills Timbertoes with glee, 

No more he '11 fear his rivals. 
44 Without these bulky, blundering pegs 

I shall not fail to score, 
For if a man has got no legs. 

He carit get 4 leg-before.' " 


Sir, — It struck me that the best and sim- 
plest way of finding out what were the inten- 
tions of the Government with regrard to the 
veto of the Peers was to write and ask each 
individual Member his opinion on the sub- 
ject. Accordingly I have done so, and it 
seems to me that there is a vast amount of 
significance in the nature of the replies I have 
received, to anyone capable of reading 
between the lines ; or, as most o»f the com- 
munications only extended to a single line, 
let us say to anyone capable of reading 
beyond the full-stop. Lord Hosebery's 
Secretary, for example, writes that "the 
Prime Minister is at present out of town "— 
at present, you see, but obviously on the 
point of coming back, in order to grapple 
with my letter and the question generally. 
Sir William Harcofrt, his Secretary, 
writes, 44 is at Wiesbaden, but upon his 
return vour communication will no doubt 
receive his attention " — receive his attention , 
an ominous phrase for the Peers, who seem 
hardly to realise that between them and 
ruin there is only the distance from 
Wiesbaden to Downing Street. Then Mr. 
Morlbt * 4 sees no reason to alter his published 
opinion on the subject "— alter ■, how readily, 
by the prefixing of a single letter, that word 
becomes halter ! I was unable to effect per- 
sonal service of my letter on the Attorney- 
Generax, possibly because I called at his 
chambers during the Long Vacation ; but the 
fact that a card should have been attached to 
his door bearing the words 4t Back at 2 p.m." 
surely indicates that Sir John Riobt will 
back up his leaders in any approaching attack 
on the fortress of feudalism ! Then surely 
the circumstance that the other Ministers to 
whom my letters were addressed have not as 
yet sent any answer shows how seriously they 
regard the situation, and how disinclined they 
are to commit themselves to a too hasty reply! 
In fact, the outlook for the House of Lords, 
judging from these Ministerial communica- 
tions, is decidedly gloomy, and I am inclined 
to think that an Autumn Session devoted to 
abolishing it is a most probable eventuality. 

Yours, FU8ST-CU88 ExSP£CTAi?S. 

Sib,— The real way of dealing with the 
Lords is as follows. The next time that 
they want to meet, out off their gas and 
water! Tell the butcher and baker not to 
call at the House for orders, and dismiss the 
charwomen who dust their bloated benches. 
If this doesn't bring them to reason, nothing 
will. HiGH-insrDSD Democrat. 

■*W » i-im B«H 

September 1, 1894.] 




(By an "Old One.") 

["A Mother of Boys," anm 
with Mr. James Payn for his 
dealings with "that barbarous 
race," suggests that as an amend* 
honorable he should write a book 
in praise of boys.] 

Ik praise of boys P In praise 

of boys P 
Who mess the house, and 

make a noise, 
And break the peace, anl 

smash their toys. 
And dissipate domestic joys, 
Do everything that most 

The Bobs and Billys, Ralphs 

and Rots P— 
Just as well praise a hurricane, 
The buzzing fly on the wiu- 

dow-pine, [pig! 

An earthquake or a rooting 
No, young or old, or small or 

biff, ("scourge, 

A boy's a pest, a plague, a 
A dread, domestic demiurge 
Who brings the home to chaos* 

The only reason I can see 
For praising him is— well, that 

he, [turn ran— 

As Wohdswobth— so his die- 
Declared, is " father to the 

And even then the better plan 
Would be that he, calm, sober. 

aage, [age! 

Were — horn at true paternal 
Did all boys start at twenty- 
I were the happiest "Boy" 



He. " What a sham* it is that Mest mat ask Wombk to 


She. "Oh, well, you know, I suppose they can always give 
of Hint!" He. "What do you mean by a Hint?* 

She. "Will— they can alwats say, 'Oh, I do Love you so! 

a sort 


(Air—" The Low-backed Car.**) 

I bather like that Car, Sir, 
'Tis easy for a ride. 
But gold galore 
May mean strife and gore. 
If 'tis stained with greed 
and pride, [lightful, 
Though its omforts are de- 
And its cushions made with 
taste, [me 

There '8 a tpectre sits beside 
That I 'd gladly n v in haste — 
As I ride in the Pullman Car ; 
And echoes of wrath and war, 
And of Labour's mad cheers, 
Seem to sound in my ears 
As I ride in the Pullman Car ! 

ence Falsely So Called." 
—What is this talk at the 
British Association about a 
"new gas"P Isn't the old 
good enough? My connection 
— as a shareholder — with one 
of our leading gas companies, 
enables me to state authorita- 
tively that no new gas is re- 
quired by the public. I am 
surpri^edf that a nobleman like 
Lord Rayleigh should even 
attempt to make such a tho- 
roughly useless, and, indeed, 
revolutionary discovery. It is 
enough to tarn anyone into a 
democrat at once. And what 
was Lord Salisbury, as a Con- 
servative, doing, in allowing 
such a subjeot to be mooted at 
Oxford ? Why did he not at 
once turn the new gas off at 
the meter P Indig na nt. 


From Henry Sotheran & Co. (so a worthy 
Baronite rerorts) oomes a second edition of 
Game Birds and Shooting Sketches, by 
John Guille Millai*. Every sportsman who 
is something more than a mere bird-killer 
ought to buy thiB 
beautiful book. Mr. 
Millais' drawings 
are wonderfully de- 
licate, and, so far 
as I can judge, re- 
markably accurate. 
He has a fine touch 
for plumage, and 
renders with extra- 
ordinary success the 
. bold and resolute 
g "vTjC bearing of the 

. , 7 *"* ^T^ British game-bird 
m the privacy of hi) own peculiar haunts. 
I am glad the public have shown themselves 
sufficiently appreciative to warrant Mr. Mil- 
laib in putting forth a second edition of a 
book which is the beautiful and artistic result 
of very many days of patient and careful 
observation. By the way, there is an illus- 
tration of a Blackcock Tournament, which is. 
for knock-about primitive humour, aa good 
as a pantomime rally. One more by-the- 
way. Are we in future to spell Capercailzie 
with an extra 1 in place of the z, as Mr. Mu- 
laib spells itP Surely it is rather wanton 
thus to annihilate the pride of the sportsman 
who knew what was what, and wno never 
pronounced the z. If you take away the z 
you take away all merit from him. Perhaps 
Mr. Millais will consider the matter in bis 
third edition. The Barok de B.-W. 


A Song of a Sloppy Season. 

(By a Washed- Out Willow- Wieldtr.) 

Air— 41 TitwiUowr 

In the dull, damp pavilion a popular " Bat " 

Sang ** Willow, wet-willow, wet-willow ! " 

And I said '* Oh ! great slogger, pray what 

are you at, 

Singing * Willow, wet- willow, wet- willow' ? 

Is it lowness of average, batsman," I cried ; 

" Or a bad * brace of ducks ' that has lowered 

your pride P " 
With a low-muttered swear-word or two he 
" Oh willow, wet-willow, wet-willow ! " 

He said ' * In the mud one can't score, anyhow, 
Singing willow, wet-willow, wet-willow ! 

The people are raising a deuce of a row, 
Oh willow, wet- willow, wet-willow ! 

I 've been waiting all day in these flannels— 
they 're damp ! — 

The spectators impatiently shout, shriek, and 
stamp, * [Gamp, 

But a batsman, von see, cannot play with a 
Oh willow, wet-willow, wet-willow! 

" Now I feel just as sure as I am that my name 

Isn't willow, wet- willow, wet- willow, 
The people will swear that I don't play the 
Oh willow, wet-willow, wet-willow ! 
My spirits are low and my scores are not 

But day after day we 've soaked turf and 

« -„ ,» feet dry, 

And I shan't have a chance till the wickets 

grey sky, 

I shan't ha . _ __ ___ 

Oh willow, wet-willow, wet- willow ! ! ! " 


Deplorable Result of the Forecast of Aug. 23 on 
the "2>. &." Weather GirL 

Forecast.— Fainwarmer. "WAwrafGS.— None 
issued. Actual weather.— Raining cats and 
dogs. Moral.— Wear a mackintosh oyer your 
classical costume. 

A Question of " Bank." 
"His Majesty King Grouse, noblest of game! *' 
So toasted Host. Replied the Guest, with 
dryness, — 
" I think that in this house the fitter name 
Would be His Royal Highness ! " 



[September 1, 1894. 



House of Commons, Monday, August 20. — Ashmead-Bartlett 
(Knight) is the Casablanca of Front Opposition Bench. All bnt he 
have fled. Now his opportunity; will show jealous colleagues, 
watchful House, and interested country, how a party should be led. 
Had an innings on Saturday, when, in favourite oharaoter of 
Dompter of British and other Lions, ne worried Under Secretaries 
for Foreign Affairs and the Colonies. Didn't get much out of them. 
In fact what happened seems to confirm quaint theory Sark 

Says he believes those two astute young men. Edward Gbet and 
Stdney Buxton, " control " the Sheffield Knight They are active 
and ambitious. Still only juniors. Moreover, things are managed 
so well both at Foreign Office and Colonial Office that they have no 
opportunity of distinguishing themselves. The regular representa- 
tives on the Front Opposition Bench of Foreign Affairs and Colonies 
say nothing ; patriotically acquiescent in management of concerns in 
respect of which it is the high tradition of English statesmanship 
that the political game shall not be played. In such circumstances 
no opening for able young men. But, suppose they could induce 
some blatant, irresponsible person, persistently to put groundless 
questions, and make insinuations derogatory to the character of 
British statesmen at home and 
British officials abroad? Then 
they step in, and, amid applause 
on both sides of House, Knock 
over the intruder. Sort of game 
of House of Commons nine-pins. 
Nine-pin doesn't care so that 
it 's notioed ; admirable practice 
f oryoung Parliamentary Hands. 

This is Sask's suggestion of 
explanation of phenomenon. 
Fancy much simpler one might 
be found. To-night Bartlett- 
Ellis in better luck. Turns 
upon Attorney - General : 
darkly hints that escape of 
Jabez was a put-up job, of 
which Law Officers of the Crown 
might, an' they would, disclose 
some interesting particulars. 
Riobt, who, when he bends 
his step towards House of Com- 
mons, seems to leave all his 
shrewdness and knowledge of 
the world in his chambers, rose 
to the fly ; played Bajbhkead- 
Artletts obvious frame by 
and delivering 

getting angry, a 

long speeoh whilst progress of votes, hitherto going on swimmingly, 

was arrested for fully an hour. 

Business done.— Supply voted with both hands. 

Tuesday. — A precious sight, one worthy of the painter's or 
sculptor's art, to see majestic figure of Squire of Malwood 
standing between House of Lords and imminent destruction. Irish 
members and Radicals opposite have sworn to have blood of the Peers. 
Sage of Queen Anne' s Gate is taking the waters elsewhere. In his 
absence do the best we can. Sat up all last night, the Radicals 
trying to get at the Lords by the kitchen entrance; Squire 
withstanding them till four o'clock in the morning. Began again to- 
night. Education Vote on, involving expenditure of six millions 
and welfare of innumerable children. Afterwards the Post Office 
Vote, upon which the Postmaster-General, St. Arnold-le-Grand, 
endeavours to reply to Hbnnieer-Heaton without betraying con- 
sciousness of bodily existence of such a person. These matters of 
great and abiding interest ; bat only few members present to discuss 
them. The rest waiting outside till the lists are cleared and battle 
rages once more round citadel of the Lords sullenly sentineled by 
detachment from the Treasury Bench. 

When engagement reopened Squire gone for his holiday trip, 
postponed by the all-night sitting, John Morlet on guard. Breaks 
force of assault by protest that the time is inopportune. By-and-by 
the Lords shall be handed over to tender mercies of gentlemen below 
gangway. Not juBt now, and not in this particular way. Chief 
Secretary remembers famous case of absentee landlord not to be in- 
timidated by the shooting of his agent. So Lords, he urges, not to 
be properly punished for throwing out Evicted Tenants Bill by | 
having the salaries of the charwomen docked, and Black Rod . 
turned out to beg his bread. j 

Radicals at least not to be denied satisfaction of division. Salaries 
of House of Lords staff secured for another year by narrow majority , 
of 31. Business done.— Nearly alL • 

Wednesday.— The Squire of Malwood at last got off for his well- 
earned holiday. Carries with him consciousness of having done 
supremely well amid difficulties of peculiar complication. As Joseph 
in flush of unexpected and still unexplained frankness testified, the 
Session will in its accomplished work beat the record of any in 
modern times. The Squire been admirably backed by a rare team 
of colleagues : but in House of Commons everything depends on the 
Leader. Had the Session been a failure, upon his head would have 
fallen obloquy. As it has been a suocess, his be the praise. 

"Well, good bye," said Johk Morlet, tears standing in his 
tender eyes as he wrung the hand of the almost Lost Leader. " But 
you know it's not all over yet. There's the Appropriation BUL 
What shall we do if Weir comes up on Second Reading ? " 
41 Oh, dam Weir," said the Squire. 

John Morlet inexpressibly shocked. For a moment thought a 
usually equable temper had been ruffled by the almost continuous 
work of twenty months, culminating in an all-night sitting. On 
reflection he saw that the Squire was merely adapting an engineer- 
ing phrase, describing a proceeding common enough on river courses. 
The only point on whioh remark open to criticism is that it is 
Business done. — Appropriation Bill brought in. 
Thursday.— George Newnes looked in just now ; much the same 
as ever ; the same preoccupied, almost pensive look ; a mind weighed 
down by ever-multiplying circulation. Troubled with consideration 

of proposal made to him to pub- 
lish special edition of Strand 
Magazine in tongue under- 
standed of the majority of the 
peoples of India. Has conquered 
the English-speaking race from 
Chatham to Chattanooga, from 
Southampton to Sydney. Now 
lo! the poor Indian brings his 
annas, and begs a boon. 

Meanwhile one of the candi- 
dates for vacant Poet Laureate- 
ship has broken out into elegiac 
verse. "Newnes, "he exclaims, 
"Nbwne8, noble hearted, shine, 
for ever shine ; 
Though not of royal, yet of hal- 
lowed line." 
That sort of thing would 
make some men vain. There 
is no couplet to parallel it since 
the famous one written by Pope 
on a place frequented by a 
Sovereign whose death is noto- 
rious, a place where 
Great Anna, whom three realms 
obey, [sometimes tea. 

Did sometimes counsel take and 
The poet, whose volume bears the proudly humble pseudonymn " A 
Village Peasant." should look in at the House of Commons and continue 
his studies. There are a good many of us here worth a poet's 
attention. Sark says the thing is easy enough. "Toss 'em off in 
no time," says he. " There 's the Squire now, who has not lately 
referred to his Plantagenet parentage. Apostrophising him in Com- 
mittee on Evicted Tenants Bill one might have said : — 
Squire, noble hearted, shine, for ev«r shine ; 
Though not of hallowed yet of royal line." 
Business done. — Appropriation Bill read second time. Weir 
turned up. Sir Wilfbid Lawson and others said " Dam." 

Saturday. — Appropriation Bill read third time this morning. 
Prorogation served with five o'clock tea. 

" Parleyment ! " said one of the House of Commons waiters loitering 
at the gateway of Palace Yard and replying to inquiring visitor from 
the oountry. " Parleyment 's horff." So am I. 
Business done.— An. 


{My Four-year-old Sweetheart.) 

To make sweet hay I was amazed to find 
You absolutely aid not know the way, 
Though when you did, it seemed much to your mind 
To make sweet hay. 

We wandered out. It was a perfect day. 

I asked if I might teach you. You were kind 
Enough to answer, "Why, of course, you may." 

I kissed your pretty face with hay entwined, 
We made sweet hay. But what will Mother say 

If in a dozen years we 're still inolined 

T« t»oV C .woof hatrV 

The Imperial Sheffield Nine-pin. 
Invaluable to Budding Statesmen. 

To make sweet hay Y 


September 8, 1894.] 




(A Query to be answered during the Long Vacation,) 

I ax always reluctant to obtrude my personality upon the British 
Public All the world know my address in the Temple, and so long 
as my learned friends who act as intermediaries between myself ana 
the litigation-loving public bear me in mind, I require no further 
advertisement. However, I cannot 
close my eyes to Duty, and Duty points 
to the pages of a paper that may be 
aptly called the organ of the Bench, 
the Jury, and the Bar. 1 feel compelled 
to publish the following short story in 
the columns of that organ as a proof of 
the degeneracy of the profession to 
which I have the honour to belong. I 
shall be only too pleased if my Spartan- 
like conduct proves of benefit to my 
fellow-oounseL I write in their service, 
and without an eye — yes, I venture to 
say half an eye— to the main chance. 
My narrative will prove that ignorance, 
and, if I may be permitted to say so, 
unpardonable ignorance exists at the 
Law Courts. I have kept silent until the Long Vacation has com- 
menced. My reason for this reticence is not difficult to discover. 
Had I taken the public into my confidence at an earlier date r it would 
be obvious that 1 might have suffered in professional status. Now 
that the Long Vacation has been reached, tnere is ample time for the 
process known as " living it down." But I will not anticipate. 

I must confess that I was not a little pleased the other day to learn 
from my excellent clerk, Portington, that a representative of the 
firm of Clogs, Judas, akd Friars, were anxious to see me on a 
matter of business. 

44 Have I had them as clients before P " * I asked my worthy 
44 Oh, no, Sir," returned Pobtxngto*. 4t You see, for the last 

five years you have only had " 

44 Yes, yes," I interrupted, for my excellent clerk is sometimes 
inclined to become a trifle prosy. " I will see him at once. Is he in 
my room ? " 

44 Well, no, Sir ; as you said that Mr. Ixkerxoit might use it for 
the soda-water cases, I thought it would be better to show him into 
Mr. Block's room. You see, Sir, it is tidier than your room ; for 

since we have had the lawn-tennis net* " 

But here I again interrupted my worthy assistant, who, I am 
forced to admitTis sometimes a trifle discursive. I interrupted him, 
and, entering Block's room, made the acquaintance of my new 

44 1 think, Sir/' said my visitor. " that you are of opinion that 
there is no oustom concerning the dismissal of office messengers ? " 

I never like to commit myself without referring to my books, so I 
was silent for a moment. 
44 At least," continued my client, 4I you have not heard of any ? " 
44 Well, no," I returned; 4 * so far as my experience goes, I have 
not come across the custom." 

44 That's quite enough for us, Sir. If you will swear that, we 
shall want nothing further." 

Rather to my disgust my visitor suddenly placed a subpoena in my 
hand, and told me that the case would most likely be in the list on 
the following day. Annoyed at his brusqueness I told him I had been 
ready to accept him gratuitously as a client. I added that as I now 
found I was only in request as a witness I should require a guinea. 

4 4 Oh, of course," said my visitor, producing the cash. 4 4 We looked 
you out, and your name is in the Law List ; and I see, too, you 
nave painted it on the door of Mr. Block's chambers." 

Disdaining to smile at what I considered to be rather a clumsy 
attempt at plaisanterie, I bowed, and rang the bell. 

44 Perhaps we had better have your private address, Sir," continued 
my visitor. " It would be safer, for then we could wire to you when 
it came on, and you would be sure to get our telegram." 

44 1 am always here while the Courts are sitting." I returned, in a 
tone of hauteur ; 44 so you must please wire to me here." 
44 Just as you like, Sir." 

And a few minutes later my clerk saw my visitor safely off the 
premisf s. I admit that I was slightly annoyed at the term wire." 
It is true that his firm's name had not appeared— at any rate, 
recently— in my fee-book, but that was no reason why he should 
suggest that I was constantly absent from my chambers. I really 
pitied Messrs. Clogs, Judas and Friabs for having a clerk with so 
little tact, and such a small stock of experience. 

On the following morning, when I was standing at the door of the 
Carey Street Robing Room, considering whether I should assume my 
forensic costume, or enter the Court as a layman, I was accosted by 
the same individual, who told me 44 that we were third on the list." 
44 So yon will be wanted almost at once, Sir," said he. 

mean to-day." 

I will not tell a wearisome story of how I had to hang about the 
Court until the interval for luncheon, and longer. I will hurry to 
the point when I entered the witness-box. To my surprise and secret 
satisfaction there was quite a stir when my name was called out. 
The Silks in the front row smiled, and my colleagues the juniors 
tittered. Even his Lordship looked up with an expression of pleasant 
anticipation. I was duly sworn, and gave my name. 

44 flow, Sir," said the Counsel for our side, 4< tell me. How long 
have you known anything about office messengers ? " 

I considered for a moment. As a Member of the Bar (although 
I had not been asked for my profession— no doubt that was suffi- 
ciently well known) I desired to set an example. I wished to show 
what a witness should be. I desired to appear as a model worthy of 
close and universal imitation. 

44 1 have seen office messengers in offices for many years— as long 
as I can remember." 

I spoke with absolute gravity. To my astonishment there was a 
titter which grew into a roar of laughter ; even his Lordship found 
it difficult to control his cachinnation. 

44 Yes," said the counsel, when he had partially recovered his 
gravity. 4 But, tell me, do you know any custom in connection 
with their dismissal F " 

Again I considered the matter for a few seconds, and made a second 

4 No ; I am unaware of any special custom in connection with their 

This time there was no titter. Mv answer was received at once 
with the wildest merriment. The Judge laughed as much as anyone, 
and the Usher had to wipe his head with his handkerchief, so 
greatly moved was he by his sense of the ridiculous. 

My Counsel sat down convulsed, and had to conceal his face behind 
his brief. 

44 1 really don't think " gasped out the judge, 44 that this witness 
need be cross-examined. '• 

And I was not. As I returned to my seat amidst the smiles of 
everyone in Court, a reporter asked me for my Christian name. 
Before I could reply, one of my colleagues in wig and gown gave him 
what he supposed was the necessary information. 

44 But you are wrong," I whispered, and (with a view of crushing 
him) handed him my card. 

44 You don't say so," returned my learned friend; "why, we 
thought you were Panto,— the chap you know, who writes as 
4 Yobick ' for the Serio-Comic Jester." 

And it had come to this ! I had been taken, or rather mistaken, 
for a humorous contributor! And this after about a quarter of a 
century's service at the Bar ! And yet there are those who say that 
the profession is not going to the dogs ! 

However, I must express my surprise at the conduct of the judge. 
It is not ten years einoe that I had the pleasure of holding a consent 
brief before nim. And yet he had forgotten me ! When the Bench 
is so forgetful, how can Silk and Stuff be expected to have better 
memories ! 

Pump-Handle Court, (Signed) A. Briefless, Junior. 

September 1, 1894. 

44 RHYMES." 

Whatever the subject that people discuss, 
Theology, law, architectural playthings — 
St Albans, for instance— there's ready for us 
A lover of knock-me-down language to say things. 
Lord Grimthorpe will instantlv write to the Times. 
His last learned homilies treated of rhymes. 

Ne sutor—LoT& Grimthorpe could tell you the rest, 

Lord Grimthorpe could write you a letter about it, 
Lord Grimthorpe, decidedly wisest and best 
Of wise and good teachers, no person oould doubt it ; 
Since, be what it may, he will write to the Times, 
Church, chancery, chapels, chants, chamfers or chimes. 

Ne sutor — the limit should never be past 

But where is the limit ? He tackles each squabbler. 
We see each new letter, but never the last ; 
All things need repair, and Lord G. is the cobbler. 
Cathedrals or canticles— still to the Times 
He writes, some might say, neither reasons nor rhymes. 

Military Word of Command 
nr Love."— Fall out ! 

for those who have "FaLLEM 
Digitized by VjQOfe 

vol. cm. 



[September 8, 1894. 


Bill. "What are these Chaps, Jim?" 

Jim. "Why, they 're all Hbarls and Markesses, they tell me, as is down on their Luck ! " 

BUI. " Well, then, wot 's the good of their makin' New Peers, when all these poor Noblemen are out of a Job ? ' 


The era of newspaper controversy has once 
more begun, and the wail of the letter-writer 
is again heard in the land. The guileless 
reader may possibly imagine that the letters 
he reads so readily are so many brands 
plucked from the burning—in other words, 
so many contri- 
butions snatched 
out of the Waste- 
Paper Basket. 
But Mr. Punch 
knows better; the 
letters are written 
where the oontro- 
BL^S^ffjttlj versy begins and 
// ^s^aBf Jf e n d s — in the 
V « ffr U£| H Newspaper Office. 

Fleet Street lag behind its neighbours in 
journalistic controversy P If the largest cir- 
culations have their leader-writers, has not 
Mr. Punch his " young men " P The fol- 
lowing letters, therefore, it is frankly ad- 
mitted, were written in Fleet Street. Please 
notice the careless graoe with which " Peck- 
ham Rye" and the "Borough Road" are 
thrown in to give an air of verisimilitude 
to a bald and unconvincing narrative" as 
Pooh Bah said. The subject of the oorre- 

another. Eventually "The Ethics of the 
Honeymoon " won by a narrow majority, 
after a close division. Of course it need 
hardly be said that the subject ought to be 
matrimonial. It's expected of you. The 
public look for it They shall get it. Here 
are some of the letters :— 


Dear Sib, — I desire in your valuable paper 
to draw attention to a question which I have 
been carefully considering for a great number 
of years : Are Honeymoons right P Man and 
boy I have been a bachelor these forty years, 
and as such have had peculiar and extensive 
opportunities for seeing that "most of the 
game " which is reserved for outsiders. As 
the result of my observation, I confidently 
assert that honeymoons are useless, dangerous, 
and ought to be abolished. They are useless 
in that the only people they profit are the 
hotel-keepers. They are dangerous to the 
happy pairs, who see enough of ene another 
in a fortnight to imperil their happiness for a 
lifetime. Abolition is dearly the only remedy, 
and a Hyde Park Demonstration should settle 
the matter. Yours faithfully, 

Peckham Rye. Tom E. Rot. 

Deas Mr. Punch, — However can anyone 
ask such a foolish question as "Are Honey- 
moons right?" I shall never forget mine. 
It was one long dream. We spent the time 
in Switzerland and £300 in cash. We 're still 

paying interest on the money Edwin borrowed 
to pay for it. But what of that P The time 
we spent was a piem, the recollection of it 
is a rapture. Though I should never be 
fortunate enough to spend another, I shall 
always rejoice in my first honevmoon. 
Yours matrimonially, 

Angelina Mandoline. 
The Cosy Corner , Swiss Cottage. 

8nt,— I object to honeymoons because 
those who take part in them are so unsociable. 
What greater disfigurement to a landscape 
than a lot of couples honeymooning about? 
The whole thing is such a farce, too— each 
would rather speak to some one else, both 
are afraid of offending one another. To pre- 
vent anyone thinking I say this because I 've 
been bitten myself, I may add that my first 
honeymoon was such a success that next week 
I 'm going to get married again, and take 
another. Yours, A Widoweb. 

1097, Borough Road, 8.E. 

On a Heroine of our Day. 
Her very naughtiness is droll. 

There r s fun in her worst folly, 
In fact she 's no Society DolL 

On her the straightest-laced spectator 

Bestows his benediction, 
And owns her keen and skilled creator 

A Hope of English fiction. 

September 8, 1894.] 




Mr. Rudyabd Kipling has given us in his 
own inimitable way a sample of Jungle Law, 
which, as he says, is of "immense com- 
plexity." Now Society is also a Jungle, the 
Human Jungle. In it the Bete-Mumaine 
congregates, for a variety of purposes. Its 
laws also are complex, and wonderfully like 
those of the Wolves as Baloo gave them in 
sing-song. For example :— 

(For " Wolf 9 read " Worldling," for "Jungle" 
the " Social World.") 

Now this is the Law of the Jungle— bo ancient 

that no one asks " Why ? " 
And the Wolf that shall keep it may prosper, but 

the Wolf that shall break it must fly, 
As the cobweb that meshes the corners, the Law 

nets Society's track — 
For the strength of the Pack is the Wolf, and the 

strength of the Wolf is the Pack. 

•'Tub" daily from head-crown to toe-tip; 

drink freely but seldom too deep : 
And remember the nijrht is for larks, and 

forget not the day is for sleep. 

The Jackal may sponge on the Lion ; but, Cub, 

when thy whiskers are grown, 
Remember the Wolf is a hunter— go forth 

and track prey of thine own. 

Keeppeace with the Lords of the Jungle, the 

Hebrew, the Bobby, the Beak ; 
And fool not with Elephant Law, which is 

given to squelching the weak. 


When Pack crosses Paok in the jungle, and 
neither will budge from the trail. 

Lie down till the Lawyers have spoken, for 
tongue against tooth may prevail ! 

When ye fight with a Wolf of the Pack, do 

not fight him alone or afar, 
Let others look on at the scrimmage, the Paok 

is amused by such war. 


The House of the Wolf is his refuge, and 
where he has made him his home, 

If he is a Wolf of fair cunning, not e'en 
County Councils may oome. 

The House of the Wolf is his ref age, but let 

him shun odorous drain. 
Or the Council will send him a " Notice," 

and he 'U have to " repair " it again, 

If ye hunt after midnight be careful, and 

block not the public nighway. # 
Lest ye draw the police from their gossips, 

and have Forty Shillings to pay. 


Ye may kill female souls for your pleasure, 
may snare them the best way ye can, 

But mind you don't poach on preserves that 
belong to a wealthier man f 


If ye plunder his Kill from a weaker, don't 
put on too much " blooming side." 

Some deeds it is lawful to do, wbioh, as being 
14 bad form," you should hide. 


The " form " of the Pack is the law of the 
Pack. It will pardon white lies, 

And a wriggle or two, but that Wolf 's a gone 
coon who the Pack " form" denes. 


The Kill of the Wolf is the meat of the Wolf. 

He may do what he will 
With his prey when he 's hunted it down ; 

but he shouldn't let pals see him kill. 


The Vicar's Wife. " And have you had good Spobt, Miss Goldbubkbo f " 

Miss G. " Oh, bippen' 1 I only shot one Rabbit, but I managed to injube quite a 




Cub-Right is the right of the Minor. 

deeds of crass folly or shame 
He may put in the plea, " I 'm an Infant 1 " 

and Law will acknowledge the same. 



Sale-Right is the right of the Mother. 

all her the-cubs she may claim 
The right of free-market (or marriage), axd 

none may deny her the same. 
Law-Right is the right of the Male. He has 

made Jungle-law all his own, 
He is free of all voice of the Female ; and 

judged by the he-wolves alone. 


Because of his age and his cunning, his grip 

and his power of jaw, 
In all that the Law leaveth open the word of 

King Mammon is Law. 

Now these are the Laws of the Jungle, to 
sway human Wolves where they swarm ; 
But the head and the front of the Law, the 
I beginning and end is— Conform ! 

Wonderf nl, is it not, how little the Law of 
the Wolf requires modifying to make it the 
Law of the Worldling! The reason, per- 
haps, is that the average Worldling is so very 
much like a Wolf, especially in gregarious- 
ness and greed for prey ! 



[September 8, 1894. 


(A Story in Scenes.) 


Scene XVII.— Undershell's Bedroom in the East Wing at Wyvern. 
Time— About 9 p.m. 

The Steward's Room Boy (knocking and entering). Brought you 
up some 'ot water, Sir, case you 'd like to clean up afore supper. 

UndershelL I presume evening dress is not indispensable in the 
Housekeeper's Room ; hut I can hardly make even the simplest toilet 
until you are good enough to bring up my portmanteau. Where is it? 

Boy. I never 'eard nothink of no portmanteau, Sir ! 

Und. You will hear a good deal about it, unless it is forthcoming 
at once. Just find out what 's become of it — a new portmanteau, with 
a white star painted on it. [The Boy retires, impressed; an interval. 

Boy (re- appearing). I managed to get a few words with Thomas, 
our second footman, just as he was coming out o' the 'All, and he 
sez the only porkmanteau with a white star was took up to the 
Verney Chamber, which Thomas unpacked it hisself. 

Und. Then tell Thomas, with my compliments, that he will 
trouble himself to 
pack it again imme- 

Boy. But Thomas 
has to wait at table, 
and besides, he says 
as he laid out the 
dress things, and the 
gen'lman as is in the 
Verney Chamber is a 
wearin' of 'em now, 

Und. (indignant). 
But they 're mine ! 
Confound his impu- 
dence ! Here. I '11 
write him a line at 
once. ( He scribbles a 
note.) Here, see that 
the gentleman of the 
Verney Chamber gets 
this at once, and bring 
me his answer. 

Boy. What ! me go 
into the Dinin' 'All, 
with all the swells at 
table ? I dursn't. I 
should get the sack 
from old Teeddy. 

Und. I don't care 
who takes it so long 
as it is taken. Tell 
Thomas it 's Ms mis- 
take, and he must do 
what he can to put it 
right. Say I shall 
certainly complain if 
I don't get back my 
clothes and portmanteau. Get that note delivered, and I'll give 
you half -a-orown. (7b himself, as the Boy departs much against 
his will.) So, not content with denying me a place at her table, this 
Lady Culverin allows her minions to clothe a more favoured guest 
at my expense ! I 'm hanged if I stand it 

Scene XVIII— The Dining Hall. The table is oval ; Spurrell is 
placed between Lady Rhoda Coxayne and Mrs. Brooke-Chatteris. 

Mrs. Chatteris (encouragingly, after they are seated). Now, I shall 
exjwot you to be very brilliant and entertaining. J '11 do all the lis- 
tening for once in a way— though, generally, I can talk about all 
manner of silly things with anybody ! 

Spurrell (extremely ill at ease). Oh— er— I should say you were 
equal to that. But I really can't think of anything to talk about. 

Mrs. Chatt. That's a bad beginning. I always find the menu 
cards such a good subject when there's anything at all out of tbe 
common about them. If they 're ornamented, you can talk about 
them— though not for very long at a time, don't you think ? 

Spurr. (miserably). I can't say how long I could go on about 
ornamented ones— but these are plain. ( To himself) I can hear this 
waistcoat going already ; and we 're onlv at the soup! 

Mrs. Chatt. It is a pity. Never mini ; tell me about literary and 
artistic people. Do you know I 'm rather glad I 'm not literary or 
artistic myself— it seems to make people so queer-looking, somehow. 
Oh, of course I didn't mean you looked queer— but generally, you 
know. You've made quite a success with your Andromeda, haven't 
you P I only go by what 1 'm told— I don't read much myself. We 

" It d >es seem to me such— well,*such_footleJ " 

women have so many really serious matters to attend to — arranging 
about dinners, and visits, and trying on frocks, and then rushing 
about from party to party. I so seldom get a quiet moment. Ah, I 
knew I wanted to ask you something. Did you ever know anyone 
called Lady Griboldjb ? 

Spurr. Lady— er— Geisoline ? No; can't say I do. I know Lady 
Maisie, that's all. 

Mrs. Chatt. Oh, and she was the original ? Now, that is excit- 
ing ! But I should hardly have recognised her—* * lanky," you know, 
and " slanting green eyes." But I suppose you see everybody 
differently from other people ? It 's having so much imagination. I 
daresay / look green or something to you now — though really I 'm 

Spurr. (to himself). I don't understand more than about half 
she's saying. (Aloud.) Oh, I don't see anything particularly green 
about you. 

Mrs. Chatt. (only partially pleased). I wonder if you meant that 

to be complimentary— no, you needn't explain. Now tell me, is 

there any news about the Laureateship P Who's going to get it P 

Will it be Swinburne or Lewis Morris P 

Spurr. (to himself). Never heard of the stakes or the horses 

either. (Aloud.) Well, 
to tell you the truth, 
I haven't been follow- 
ing their form — too 
many of these small 
events nowadays. 

Mrs. Chatt. (to 
herself). It's quite 
amusing how jealous 
these poets are of one 
another! (Aloud.) I* 
it true they get a butt 
of sherry given them 
for it P 

Spurr. I've heard 
of winners getting a 
bottle or two of cham- 
pigne in a bucket— 
not sherry. But a 
little stimulant won't 
hurt a crack when he 
comes in, provided it's 
not given him too 
soon ; wait till he 's 
got his wind and done 
blowing, you know. 

Mrs. Chatt. I'm 
taking that in. I 
know it '8 very witty 
and satirical, and I 
daresay I shall un- 
derstand it in time. 

Spurr. Oh, it doesn't 
matter much if you 
don't. (To himself.) 
Pleasant kind of wo- 
man — but a perfect 
fool to talk to! 

Mrs. Chatt. (to herself), l 've always heard that clever writers 
are rather stupid when you meet them— it's quite true. 

Captain Thicknesse [to hitnself). I should like her to Bee that I 've 
got some imagination in me, though she does think me such an ass. 
(Aloud, to Lady Maisie.) Jolly old hall this is, with the banners, and 
the gallery, and that— makes you fancy some of those old mediaeval 
Johnnies in armour— knights, you know— oomin' olankin' in and 
turnin' us all out. 

Lady Maisie (to herself). I do trust Mr. Spurrell isn 't saying 
something too dreadful. I'm sure I heard my name just now. 
(Aloud, absently, to Capt. Thicknesse.) No, did you really f Haw 
amusing it must have been ! 

Capt. Thick, (aggrieved). If you'd done me the honour of payin' any 
attention to what I was savin', you 'd have found out it wamt amu«in'. 

Lady M. (starting). Oh, wasn't it? I'm bo sorry I missed it. 
I— I 'm afraid I was thinking of something- ehe. Dj tell me again ! 

Capt. Thick, (still hurt). No, I won't inflict it on you— not worth 
repeatin*. And I should only be takin' off your attention from a 
fellow that does know how to talk. 

Lady M. (with a auiltiness which she tries to carry off under 
dignity). I don 't think I understand what you mean. 

Capt. Thick. Well, I couldn't help heann' what you said to your 
poet-friend before we went in about having to put up with partners ; 
and it isn't what you may call flattering to a fellow's feelin's, being 

put up with. 

Lady M. (hotly), 
misunderstood ! 


-it was not intended for you. You entirely 

Digitized by 



Sepiember 8, 1894] 



Capt. Thick. Daresay I 'm very dense ; but, even to my compre- 
hension, it 's plain enough that the reason why you weren t listenin' 
to me just now was that the Poet had the luck to say somethin' that 
you found more interesting. 

Lady M. You are quite wrong— it's too absurd • I never even met 
Mr. Spurbell in my life till this afternoon. It you really must 
know, I heard him mention my name, and— and I wondered, 
naturally, what he oould possibly be saying. 

Capt. Thick. Somethin' very channin' and poetical, I'm sure, 
and I'm makin' you lose it all. Apologise — shanH happen again. 

Lady M. Please be sensible, and let us talk of something else. 
Are you staving here long ? 

Capt. Thick. You will be gratified to hear I leave for Aldershot 
to-morrow. Meant to have gone to-day. Sorry I didn't now. 

Lady M. I think it was a thousand pities you didn't, as you seem 
to have stayed on purpose to be as stupid and unkind as you possibly 
can. [She turns to her other neighbour. Lord Lullington. 

Mrs. Chatt. [to Capt; Thick N esse, who is on her other side). Oh, 
Captain Thicknesse, what do you think Mr. Spurbell has just 
told me? You remember those lines to Lady Grisoline that 
Mr. Pilliner made such fun of this morning ? Well, they were 
meant for Lady Maisie ! They're quite old friends, it seems. So 
romantic ! Wouldn't you like to know how they came to meet P 

Capt. Thick. Can't say I'm particularly curious — no affair of 
mine, don't you know. {To himself.) And sne told me they 'd never 
met before ! Sooner I get baok the better. Only in the way here. 

Lady M. {turning to him). Well, are you as determined to be 
disagreeable as ever? Oh, yes, I see you are ! 

Capt. Thick. I 'm hurt, that 's what it is, and I 'm not clever at 
hiding my feelin's. Fact is, I've just been told somethin' that- 
well, it 's no business of mine, only you might have been a little more 
frank with an old friend, instead of leavur it to oome through some- 
body else. These things always oome out, you know. 

Lady M. (to herself). That wretch has been talking ! I knew he 
would I {Aloud.) I— I know I've been very foolish. If I was to 
tell you some time 

Capt. Thick, {hastily). Oh, no reason why you should tell me any- 
thing. Assure you, I — I 'm not curious. 

Lady M. In that case I shall certainly not trouble you. {To 
herself.) He may think just what he pleases, I don't care. But. 
oh, it Mr. Spubbell dares to speak to me after this, I shall 
astonish him ! 

Lady Hhoda {to Spurrell). I say— I am in a funk. Only just 
heard who I 'm next to. I always do feel such a perfect fool when 
I 've got to talk to a famous person— and you 're frightfully famous, 
aren't you P 

Spurr. {modestly). Oh, I don't know— I suppose I am, in a sort of 
way, through Anaromeda. Seem to think so here, anyhow. 

Lady Rh. Well, I'd better tell you at once, I'm no good at 
Poetry— can't make head or tail of it, some'ow. It does seem to me 
such— well, such footle. Awf ly rude of me savin' things like that ! 

Spurr. Is it ? I 'm just the same— wouldn't give a penny a yard 
for Poetry, myself ! 

Lady Rh. You wouldn't? I am glad. Such a let-off forme! 
I was afraid you 'd want to talk of nothin' else, and the only things 
I can really talk about are horses and dogs, and that kind of thing. 

Spurr. That's all right, then. All I don't know about dogs and 
horses you oould put in a homoeopathic globule— and then it would 

Lady Rh. Then von 're just the man. Look here, I've an 

Airedale at home, ana he 's losin' all his ooat and 

[They converse with animation. 

Spurr. {later— to himself). I am getting on. I always knew I 
was made for Society. If only this ooat was easier under the arms ! 

Thomas (behind him— in a discreet whisper). Beg your pardon, 
Sir, but I was requested to 'and you this note, and wait for an 

Spurr. (opening it, and reading). " Mr. Galfrid Undebshell 
thinks that the gentleman who is occupying the Verney Chamber 
has, doubtless by inadvertence, put on Mr. Undebshell' 8 evening 
clothes. As he requires them immediately, he will be obliged by an 
early appointment being made, with a view to their return." (To 
himself.) Oh, Lor! Then it wasn't Sir Rupert, after all! Just 
when I was beginning to enjoy my evening, too. What on earth am 
I to say to this chap ? I can't take 'era all off here ! 

[He sits staring at the paper in blank dismay. 

The Wail of the Word-Spinner. 

Tukre is nothing new under the sun at all 
To your journalist penny-a-lining and shoppy. 

And how can a man be " original " 
When his days (and his nights) are devoted to " copy " P 

No. no, his tired head will ne'er knock at the stars,' 
Who is tied to the spinning of " leaders" and " pars." 


[See Mr. Alfred Austin's article, entitled " That Damnable Country," 
in Black wood* s Magazine.] 

"Land, land!" cried Alfred Austin. "By my halidom, I spy 
Many weary leagues we've wandered sicce we left our native 
Seeking still through calm and tempest a remote and barren island, 
While we smote the sounding farrows of the ocean with our oars. 

" Never wind availed to beat us ; by 
the waters overweighted. 
Or becalmed, with idle canvas hang- 
ing loosely from the mast, 
Yet we steered her or we rowed her 
with our courage unabated, 
And, our labours past and over, we 
have come to land at last 

"Though the land be bleak and 
barren, though barbarians its 
Let us add this last achievement to 
the record of our deeds ; 
When the savage tribes come shout- 
ing as attackers and repellers, 
We can win the men with clothing 
and the women-folk with beads. 

"There be savages in India as in 
Tierra del Fuego ; 

There be savages in Zululand with shield and assegai ; 
We have tamed them, whether cannibals or fed on rice and sago — 

Shall a Briton ever flinch, from such P No, by the Lord, not I ! " 

On the land he had discovered thus the Poet Austin landed ; 

Mabco Polo or Columbus might have envied him the scene ~, 
And in prose he has described it, in a language understanded 

Of the people, and has printed it in Blackwood's Magazine, 

The scenery was beautiful, so lovely that it dazed him ; 

He thought their manners charming, and he rather liked their rain. 
He did not And them savages, which seems to have amazed him ; 

And he tells us all to visit them again and yet again* 

We thank you for the hints you give describing what you 've seen 

It really is amazing ; but (a whisper in your ear) 

You 're not the first discoverer, for some of us have been there, 

And shaken hands with Irish folk before the present year. 

But in your precious article your wonder you exhaust in 

Describing how an Irishman can really be polite : 
"Behold," you say, " the Irishman as patronised by Austin; 

He is not black, though painted so— in fact he 's rather white." 

Don't patronise so much, dear A. I do not say you write ill ; 

But oh that awful title, with its most offensive D ! 

Devoutly do I hope, dear A., you '11 find a better title, 

And write a wiser article when next you cross the sea. 

Studies from the New-de.— The rage for "New"-ness, whioh 
commenced with the New Humour, is extending to the theatres. The 
New Boy now has for a competitor The New Woman. What 
matters, so long as neither is a Nui-S'ance ? 

Finest English! 

" By their fruits ye shall know them," these vendors of peaches, 

Tomatoes, and cob-nut*, and currants and cherries ; 
But what we yet lack is the wisdom that teaches 

Detection of fraudulent fruits, nuts, and berries, 
Which oome from abroad, to the Britisher's table, 
All marked " Finest English ! " that lying old label ! 
A Trade Mark is wanted— to badge these false brutes, 
That Bull may not only know them but thtir fruits. 

The Seven Ages of Man.- Col-age (Infancy), Trot-age (Nursery 
Toddler), Hot-ago (Youth), Shot-we (Sport), Knot-age (Matrimo- 
nial), " Po*"-age (Celebrity), and ZM-age (Senility). 

The Real Fall of Man.— Falling in love ! 




[September 8, 1894. 


Mrs. Stanley Bounderson (nee Martha FulUUove, the Liverpool heiress). "What would Doady do, if his loving little Wifey 


Mr. Stank y Bound erson (alias Doady). " He 'd carry it himself, I suppose !" 

Jones, Q.C. (aside to Mrs: Jones). " Yes ; and be twice as fond of his little Wifiy into the baboain, you ret!" 

[ Which is best, to love much, like Mrs. S. B. % or be much loved, like Mrs. J. t 


Or, The Sleepy Sage and the Blameful Ethiopians. 

• A Sea-sid* Sketch in September. 

Scene— A Sea-shore in holiday time. Present— A Sleepy Sage 
in holiday attire. 

Sleepy Sage (soliloquises). " Here ©ease more questions," as my 
prototype Prospero says. Why. certfnly! Here cease— for tht 
time being— all questions, especially political ones, " burning " ones, 
as the perorating parrots of Party controversy — confound 'em !— oaJ] 
them. Question me no questions ! Ask me no question*, and I '11 
give you no snubs. 

" Thou art inclined to sleep," 

continues Prospero. I am. 

" Tia a good dulneis 
And give it way." 

I shall. Dulness of course " in a Shakspearian sense." Like Bottom. 
" I have an exposition of sleep come upon me," but the " captain of 
my dreams " is not that of the egregious weaver. Pheugh ! 'tip 
torrid ! Nunc est bibendum ! Where *s that wine-cup lying couched 
in— sand P Good! Guggle— guggle -guggle! The very glug-glug of 
lapsing liquor is soporino as the sound of 

" Silver riven, to whose falls 
Melodious birds sing madrigals." 

Sweet " Swan," thy musio runneth in my head to-day. Better than 

the buzzings of the political Bumhle-B's, the bray of Bart but 

no matter ! 'Tis a season when, in sugary summer mood, one wishes 
soft slumbers even to the blaring Bottoms of the hour. " Blessed be 
the man who invented sleep ! " Bight, good Sancho ! 
" Oh sleep ! it is a blessed thing, 
Beloved from pole to pole ! " 

True, oh Ancient Mariner ! Gome, lord of stretched ease and night- 
capped noddles. (Drowses.) 

Enter certain ebony Minstrel*, of sham Ethiopian sort, on raucous 
row— miscalled popular music — eagerly intent. 

First Minstrel (softly). Hist I Re *s here I 

Second M. (pianissimo). See He slumbers! ! 

Third M. (sotlo voce). Now have we Him at vantage I ! ! 

Toby (fortissimo). Yap! Yap! Yap! 

Sleepy Sage (drowsily). Down, Dog of dogs, down, Sir I 

S?0BIA8, albeit reluctantly," downs" accordingly. 
at shall we tip him P *'* The Chucker-Gut " P 

Second M. 'Or "Linger longer Lulu!"? Gr " Get your Har- 
court!"? Gr" The Grand Gld Man who dried"? 

First M. Gr " My Poll and my 4 Preponderant Partner ' John " ? 
Gr " My Prettv Primrosers " P 

fr~md M. Gr " The Hum of B's" P Gr " The Tin Gee (Jay) 

Third M. By Jabers, no, let 's give him something Hibernian— 
for a ohanff e ! 

First m. (aside). Gh Lords deliver us ! 

Second M. (aside). For a change t 

Third M. (sings fortissimo)— 

My name is Patrick Leary, 
From the town New Tipperary. 

The heart of Bill O'Brien I'ma thorn in. 
But for my long-promised pay, 
I must wait another day, 

For the Peers have chucked me cruel and wid scornin* ! 

Chorus : — 

To my woes oould they be ooulder P 
Since they 've give me the oould shoulder ! 

To the poor plan-of-campaigners I'ma warnin*. 
Faix I I've lately tuk the notion 
I must cross the broiny ocean. 

And seek funds in Philadelphy some foine mornin'. 

Toby (exploding). Yap! yap!! yap! 1 l gjtjzed by VjOOQl g 

Digitized by 


SXPTBMBBB 8, 1894.] 



Sleepy Sage (stirring, and muttering). When my cue comes, call me. 
and I will answer. My next is " February Fill-dyke." Hey! ho! 
B-BTL-T-QumcE ! B-wl-8 the bellows-blower! As-m-ad the State- 
tinker! WB-Bthe interrogative! Gad's my life! stolen away and left 
me asleep ! I have had a most rare vision ! I have had a dream, — past 
the wit of man (as Bottom and the G. 0. M. both put it) to say what 
dream it was : man is but an ass if he go about to expound this (Irish) 
dream. Methought I was— there is no man can tell what. Methought 
I was, and methought I had,— but man is but a patched fool, if he 
offer to say what I had. Meseemed I was a sort of Hibernian 

TUania enamoured of But the eye of man hath not heard, the ear 

of man hath not seen, man's hand is not able to taste, his tongue to 
conceive, nor his heart to report what I was enamoured of. I will get 
one of my young men to write a ballad of this Hibernian Midsummer- 
Madness Dream ; it may well be called Bottom's Dream, because it 
hath no bottom. It seemed to be suggested bv, and to be set to, 
music of a musio-hally sort, tripping but thunderous and thrasonic, 

and (rubs his eyes). Hillo ! ! ! (To the three minstrels tuning up 

for another try.) Who in the name of Nox are you ? I twig, I twig ! 
Cacophony incarnate, Shindy in soot, triple-headed Cerberus of Row, 
I know you ! Get out ! ! ! Have I not had enough of you in town 
ever since February, but that you must impudently intrude upon my 
holiday quiet, my rural rest, my sea-side seclusion P 

Don't come unto these yellow sands, 

Corked mugs and hands ! 
Hook it ! You will not be missed. 

Off! off! well-hissed! 
Foot itfeatly anywhere, 
So I've not your burden here. 

Hark! hark! 
(Burden.) Bow-wow!!! (Dispersed ly.) 

'Tie Toby's bark! 
(Burden.) Bow-wow ! ! ! (Dispersedly.) 

Hark! Listen! Hear! 
Clear out, each cork-smudged Chanticleer ! 

Get out, and leave me — do ! 

[Exeunt Blameful Ethiopians ignominiously. Sage again com- 
poses himself to sleep. 


(A Lover of London to a Weary Would-be Wayfarer.) 
Lover of London. 

Worn d-bb wayfarer ! little think the proud ones 
Who in their coaches roll along the turnpike- 
Bead, what hard work 'tis trying all day for Pimlico, 
Or Piccadilly. 

Tell me, wayfarer, how these Omnibuses, 
Growlers, and Hansoms, carts and vans of riCKFORD, 
Slithering slowly over the slippery asphalte, 
Manage a journey I 

Lingering loitering is not Locomotion ! 
Trickling slow trailing through attenuate tho- 
Paroxysms of crawl and block alternate, 

Call you these Traffic! 

Civic Would-be Wayfarer. 

Traffic ? Why bless you ! We have none worth calling so ; 
'Tisn't a thing expected in London City. 
This sluggish crawling varied with stoppage is all that 

We may attain to. 

What with the narrow labyrinths miscalled thoroughfares, 
What with the sewers and gas, the water and telegraphs, 
Traffic is simply a species of lingering agony, 

In the Metropolis ! 

Something is always " up," Sir, pipe-layers, paviors, 
Stirrers of most malodorous witch-broth cauldrons, 
Makers of shindy and stench, with poor old Babylon, 

Play up old Gooseberry ! 

Courts and Councils, Committees and Correspondents, 
Always reporting, writing, and railing concerning it; 
Nothing comes of it all save chaos more complicate, 

And higher ratings. 

Cheapside, Fleet Street, Strand, all semi-impassable, 
Scarcely a ** right-away " road in all the Capital ; 
As for the " affluents " of our so-called arteries, 

They are chock-blockical ! 

Saloman wisely says the traffic of London 
Isn't mere local matter — ought to be national. 
Hope we may get some good from wisdom of Saloman ! — 

Hardly expect it, though. 

Far too long a prey to the power of Bumbledom ! 
Hope too long deferred has made me a Pessimist. 
Traffic ? Merits the name as much as these stanzas do 

That of true Sapphics, Sir ! 

Lover of London. 

You back such bunglers P I would see them blowed first — 
Duffers no civic spirit can rouse to competence, 
Paltry, preposterous, pettifogging, pottering, 

Paunchy Panjandrums ! 


(By One who has seen him Smite.) 

[During the Scarborough Cricket Week, Mr. C. 1. Thornton, the 
champion slogger of England and enthusiastic supporter of the sport, was 
presented with a silver trophy, representing himself at the wicket, as a 
memento of the great part he has taken in the Scarborough Festival since 
its institution in 1869. Playing in the second innings of M. C. C. against 
Yorkshire, II r. Thornton batted as energetically as ever, and twice drove 
the ball out of the ground.] 

Great Thornton the slogger, it comes as a jogger 
To memory this tale of your trophy well merited. 

Great Scott! how time's Hitting. 
Your gift of tall-hitting, 
"Which no one— save Bohnob— 
has fully inherited. 
You showed e*en at Eton. It has 
not been beaten. 
You 'd whip even Jehu at 
** furious driving. 19 
Not dashing O'Brien could lick the 
old Lion 
Of Cambridge, whose fire is still 
plainly surviving. 
The pet of the Million, you've 
cleared the pavilion, 
And spanked the ball many times 
44 over the paling," 
Here 's health to you ** Buns ! " may you score lots of runs, 

And oft stir the crowd with your spirit unfailing. 
How often I 'd watch when they u bowled for a catch," 
And you gave 'em one. truly, but in the next parish ! 
You 'd run up your hundred, while " all the world wondered," 

In less than an hour, Sir, a pace wear-and-tearish. 
Though pedants demur, mighty smiting will stir, 

So 4I more power to your elbow," great Slojrger of Sixes ! 
Ah ! if you should play in the Shades some hne day, 
The Elysium Fields, in the old Oval way, 
They must * 4 spread," and you'll then dear the bounds, 
though they're Styx's ! I ! 



Cheapness and Light.— Will some reader kindly inform me 
what is the best way of recovering the expenses I have reoently been 
put to in a most unpleasant Norwegian tour ? Norway is said to be 
a cheap country, so I think I was not unreasonable in expecting to 
be able to see Christiania, Bergen, Trondbjem, and the North Cape, 
with all the principal fiords and glaciers, for a five-pound note. But 
I was bitterly disappointed. As for the Midnight Sun, it is a com- 
plete fraud, and I should have considered myself lucky if I had seen 
a mid-day sun more than once or twice in my tour. Ought not the 
companies who advertise for tourists to explain that the Norse moun- 
tains are only half as high as those in Switzerland t Then I was 
assured the hotel charges would be only half as high too ; but I 
found that it was impossible to get supper, bed, and breakfast for 
less than half -a- crown anywhere! Comment is needless. I have 
just returned home, and find that I have actually spent, during only 
three weeks* travel, exactly £8 10*. lid. I had a miserable crossing 
to Hull. Whom ought I to sue ? Perish Scandinavia. 

NOT by " a Popular Baronet." 

On streams whose oourse one must not block 
A weir is found hard by a lock ; 
At Westminster it would appear 

They 'd like a lock upon their Weir. 






[Skptembkb 8, 1894. 






Stage-Manager (to Nervous Amateur). " Well, Old Chap, how are rou feeling now ? 
Got rid op thr Stage Fright?" 

Nervous Amateur. •■ Yes ; she 's just gone up to her Dressing-room P 


The annual Canine Congress opened yester- 
day in the Isle of Dogs. Should the weather 
prove favourable it is expected that the re- 
union will be most successful. The Presi- 
dential Address was delivered by A. New- 
foundland, Esq., winner of the first prize in 
a recent Crystal Palace Show. 

The President, who was received with 
general tail-wagging and yelping, observed 
that a statement had recently appeared in the 
publio Press to the effect that there were two 
million does in the United Kingdom. (Sen- 
sation.) Yes, he was so informed by his 
employer's scullery maid, in whom he had 
implicit confidence, as she always acted very 
liberally towards him in the matter of bones. 
{Applause.) What he wanted to know was, 
did all these dog* pay their Hoences, as they 
ought to do ? ( General barking.) All dogs 
who did not pay should be *' collared "—either 
by their employers or the police. (Barks and 

some dissent.) If there were really two 
millions of their raoe, it could hardly be 
denied that the United Kingdom deserved thf 
title of the true ' ' Dogs* Home." (Laughter.) 
But they had several crying— he meant howl- 
ing—grievances. In the first place there 
were too many mongrels about. (Growls.) 
Yes, in their case multiplication was vexa- 
tion. (A laugh.) He would put it to tht 
common sense of the meeting. Obviously 
there was only a certain quantity of bones 
in the country. Well, the fewer dogs the 
more bones would there be for the remainder. 
(Barks of assent.) Then, as to the excellent 
legal doctrine, the Palladium of their liberties, 
that *' Every dog may have one bite." He 
was sorry to see that some magistrates had 
been inclined to throw doubt on the justice of 
this maxim, and he hoped the Lord Chan- 
cellor would fly at those magistrates— he 
meant remove them. (Barks.) Another point 
to which he must refer was that there was a 
tendency to put them off with imported bones. 

Now, he was a Conservative (barks), and he 
believed in the good roast beef of Old Eng- 
land. (Barks and whining.) He regretted, 
too, that many employers used an inferior 
kind of dog biscuit. [If owls.) If there were 
one form of food more repulsive than another 
it was the fin de siicle dog oiscuit. (Laughter.) 
Had it any meat in it at all? {"No") Was 
it composed chiefly of bad animal fat and 
bran ? (" Yes.") There was yet one more 
grievance he had to mention. On washing 
days (hewls) it was sad to think that their 
dijrnity should be lowered by having to sub- 
mit to a coat of lather. In this matter some 
otherwise excellent employers seemed afflicted 
with rabies. (Barks.) He would leave it to 
the consideration of the Congress whether a 
universal strike against the grievances he had 
enumerated should be organised. 

[Loud and general barking. 

At the close of the President's address the 
Congress adjourned for the day. 

Papers have been promised on " Cats, and 
How to Tackle them?' on " The Temptation 
presented by Cyclists' Calve9," and on 

Hygienic Kennels." A very attractive pro- 
gramme of excursions to places of interest in 
the vicinity has also been arranged. Members 
of the Congress will be enabled to swim over 
to the pouth side of the Thames, and inspect 
the Dogs' Home at Battersea, if the Manager 
will admit them. A happy day among the 
deer in Greenwich Park is contemplated, and 
Barking will of course receive a visit. Alto- 
gether, if the police do not interfere, a 
thoroughly enjoyable outing is anticipated. 


A Fragment a la Ingoldsrt. 
• • • • 

The Spectre arose with a menacing look. 
He called not for candle, for bell, or for book. 
Bat in terrible tones, growing gruffer ana 

He solemnly cursed that deluded Old Buffer ! 
He cursed him at board, he cursed him in 

From his buniony feet to his shiny bald head; 
He cursed him in sleeping, that every night 
He should dream about burglars and wake in 

a fright ; 
He cursed him in eating, he cursed him in 

With troubles dyspeptic and feelings of 

" sinking^' : (nyinp, 

He cursed him in walking, in running, in 
In puffing and panting, in freezing and frying, 
With horror of living and longing for dying. 
He banished him harshly from home, couch, 

and cook, 
His favourite chair, and his best-beloved 

book ; [smoke, 

From afternoon snooze, and from snur evening 
From old-fashioned * rubber," ana elderly 

From pottering round in his trim-bedded 

garden, [churchwarden: 

From down-at-heel slippers, old coat, and 
Condemned him to dress in swell togs void of 

To hurry and scurry, to crowd and to squeeze; 
To horrible burdens and journeys of length, 
Exceedingly trying to temper and strength ; 
To puff like a porpoise, to pant and perspire, 
To doing — whatever he dianH dtsire ! 

Never was heard such a horrible curse ! 

But what may give rise 

To some little surprise, 
This curse, at which courage may shiver and 

It only oondemned the Old Buffer to take 
His Annual Holiday ! ! What can be worse t 


September 8, 1894.] 




[" Sea-serpents are now in season, and running 
rery large."— The Unlicensed Victualler.] 

Let Cowes delight in barques that bite 
Their furrows o'er the fallow main, 

Careering round the Isle of Wight, 
And ultimately home again. 

Some men may go to Westward Ho ! 

And potter gravely through the greens, 
Or lease a little moor, and blow 

The harmless grouse to smithereens ; 

Or flit across to fjord and/o*, 
And captivate the toothsome trout 

Or hack initials on a schloss. 
And chuck their orange-peel about. 

I>et some repair to regions where, 
Beneath the usual Southern moon, 

The nigger in his native lair 
Raises the Alabama coon. 

A few may fly to far Shanghai, 

Or Argentine, if they prefer, 
And earn a paltry pittance by 

Reporting facts that don't occur. 

While others hail the Dover mail, 
Humming the airs of quaint Yvette, 

And prove upon a private scale 
What life is like d la Vtllelte; 

Or haply land upon a strand 

Where trim grisettes are clustered thicl> . 
Watch the promiscuous bathers, and 

Observe that things are passing chic. 

I know of lots of pretty spots 
Where people go to get the view ; 

It is indeed, as Dr. Watts 
Sublimely said, their nature too. 

But there are some for whom the hum 

Of toil habitually throbs ; 
Adhesive as a patent gum 

They stick to their respective jobs. 

When heather blows, and houses close, 
And London is described as bare, 

(Though some odd millions, I suppose, 
Remain invariably there) ; 

Pounding awav serenely, they 
With pious humour smile at fate ; — 

I make allusion, need one say. 
To members of the Fourth Estate. 

In deadly dearth of copy worth 
Inserting they resort to Mars, 

Or Marriage-failure here on earth. 
As matter for expansive " pars." 

For them the prize sea-worms arise 
Fresh from eleven months of sleep, 

Flatter a Correspondent's eves, 
And fairly hurtle through the deep. 

And still they choose from subtle clues 

To weave their exegetic wit, 
Telling the nation all the news, 

And even what to think of it. 

Meanwhile afloat, or far remote, 
The publio who attains to miss 

The paper for the day can dote 
On ignorance akin to bliss. 

Ulogic in Liquor. 

Mem. by a Muter, 

How paradoxical the ways of Town ! 

To 'liquor up" means pouring liquor down. 
And "standing treat ,f means, with the 

bibulous Band, 
'Treating" each other till they cannot 



EST.! " 

Passenger from London (as the Train rwns into the Oare du Nord, Paris). 


" Off— -XR— I SAY 


Just as we begin to know 
What the grouping " mummers " mean- 
Curtain ! and ** Ood save the Queen I " 

Out we go. 

Just as we begin to know, 
Bat in hand, the bowler's style— 
44 How's that P" With a sickly smile, 

Out we go. 

Just as we begin to know 
Thts time we must " break the bank "— 
Bah I We have ourselves to thank. 

Out we go. 

Just as we begin to know 
That the whisky is sublime — 
44 Gentlemen, i£'s closing time ! " 

Out we go. 

Just as we begin to know 
We can drive the frisky mare — 
Bump! Crash! 4t Mind your eye ! " "Take 

Out we go I 

Just as we begin to know 
We are bound to head the poll— 
44 Whew! Too bad, upon my soul ! " 

Out we go. 

Just as we begin to know 
In our boy's heart we * ve a place— 
Ah ! here oomes Miss Pretttface ! 

Out we go. 

Just as we begin to know 
How to fight this world of sin— 
Ugh ! the doctor bustles in. ( 

Out we go^d by VjOO^ IX 



[Skpibmbbb 8, 1894. 


Oh, you meddlesome old lady ! 
Is a pun — 
Not my own — but how I , ve said that 
Of your head that 

Spoilt the fun ! 

And you had a splendid chance to 
At that dance too. 
How I shun 
Plaited hair like yours, that popping 
In, and stopping, 

Spoilt the fun ! 

I, not being like you wealthy 
Snow the stealthy, 
Sneaking dun ; 
Since my fortune is not grand, you 
Snubbed me, and you 
Spoilt the fun ! 

When your daughter fancied flirting- 
Was that hurting 
Anyone ? — 
And I helped her, she was not you. 
No, Great Scott ! vou 
Spoilt the fun ! 

Undisturbed upon the staircase, 
Quite a rare case 
Finding none 
Others there, we sat so happy, 
But you, snappy, 

Spoilt the fun ! 

When I thought I had a greater 
Chance to, later, 
Be your son. 
And she blushed and smiled so sweetly, 
You completely 

Spoilt the fun ! 

Lastly I, in some secluded 
Spot, concluded 
I had won, 
Called her by her Christian name — and 
Still you came and 

Spoilt the fun ! 

The Latest Piece op News (at the Co- 
medy).— The New Woman and "The Old 
Woman" are very much alike; especially 
The New Woman. 



What grand fellers them Amerrycans is ! 
I have alters admired em since I fust made 
aquaintence with the real Gent as I used to 
wait upon at the Grand Otel at Cherring 
Cross, and he was 
a reel Gent if ever 
there was one I 

Well, I was 
atending upon j est 
such another gent 
at quite a grand 
Party the other 
night ; and, when 
it was all over, the 
principle Gennel- 
man came up to 
me and in terduced 
me to him as an 
Amerrycan Gent 
as wanted to speak 
to me. and he then 
acshally told me 
as how as my little 
Book was about 


one of the most populerest in all the United 
States! And he then arsked me how many 
copies we had sold ? And when I thort as I 
shoud estonish him by telling him as I be- 
leeved as it was sumthing about seventeen 
thowsend, he said as how as that was nothink 
to what he should have xpected, for a hunderd 
thowsend would not have surprised him ! for 
he had bin told as how as one of their werry 
leadingest men, I rayther think as he said it 
was the Pressident, or a great friend of his 
whenever he was a good deal bothered about 
State matters, allers called for a copy of 
" Robert," for it was quite sure to put nim 
all to rites again, and send him to bed with a 
jolly larf! 

Well, I thort as this was all pritty well, 
but he acshally finished up by arsking me 
whether I coudent write another wollum iest 
like the other ! for he was sure as any of their 
grate Publishers coud sell any quantity of 
em ! speshally if they thort it woud take the 
shine out of the Englisher by saying it was 
by Wa8hinoham! He then introduced me 
to another Amerrycan, and asked him what 
he thort of his plan? To which he replied 
that he didn't know much about publishing, 
but he was quite sure there was nothink in 
that or in any other matter in which an Amer- 
rycan coud not lick all creation ! And then 
tney both went away larfing ! 

Tho what there was to larf at in such a 
werry serious matter as they had bin a tork- 
ing about I'm sure I can't make out, the 
more so as I ain't heard a single word from 
em since, and even thinks it werry possible 
as I never shall. 

Strange to say I had a most wunderful 
dream that night ! I dremt as I was reeUv in 
Amerrykey. and having a long oonwersation 
with a reel live Publisher all about an Amer- 
rycan "Robert"! and jestaswewasaranging 
all about the price, and the number of 
Wolumes, and the way he was to send me 
all the money, I suddenly woke, and found 
myself a lying by the side of Mrs. Robert! 
and about as much estonished as ewer I found 
myself in all my long life ! Robert. 

Smrlfukgus at new customs carps. 

He says " New Women " are * Old Cats " ; 
Society soon will be be all " sharps," 

Living in 4t flats," 

Motto for Mr. Hall -Caine.— " The 
proper study of mankind is (the Isle of) 


(Adapted from the Biglow Papers' for the benefit 
of parsonic defenders of the pleasant prac- 
tice of Lynching.) 

I du believe in righteous Law- 
Save when it Hate embarrasses— 

But I du hate the holy jaw 
Of them plump British Pharisees ! 

No White Man ought untried to swing, 
Be grilled, or sliced to jiggers ; 

But Lynch Law is a kind a thing 
That quite agrees with niggers ! 

I du believe " beans" I may give 

To Pompey or to Caesar. 
The dog has nary right to live 

Save as I chance to please, Sir ; 
It aint no use to cant to me — 

If you 'd a cowhide whip shun— 
Of conscience or humanity, 

Or rot of that description. 

I du believe the wust o' trash 

Is talk o' Christian kindness ; 
The "coons" we'll hang, or roast, op 

In wrath' 8 red fits o' blindness. 
We '11 rule, if not with rope and ball, 

Why then with stake and scorcher. 
Lynch Law, to make it stick at all, 

Must be backed up by— Torture ! 


That animals feel little pain 

Science suggests— with scanty proof. 
Shall the hu- 
mane then 

lift in vain 
Their voice in 

animals' be- 
It is a pleasant 

thing to 

The horse we 

flog, the fish 

we hook, 
Feel little pain 

— although 

they shrink: 
But does cool 

science know 

its book? 
The poor crimped cod, the walloped moke, 

CanH tell us that they rather like it ; 
The dog smiles not as at a joke 

When harsh Bill Sixes will kick or st rike it 
Man is an animal, after all, 

And if his faith is absolute 
That pain hurts not the " animal," 

HeTl very soon become— a brute ! 


[M. St. Hilaire, the French politician, who is 
ninety years of age, and still active, says : — *' If vou 
want to live to be old, be always at work, and dili- 
gently. Do not listen to those who aspire to save 
enough money to rest. They are lazy bodies."] 

'Tis the voice of the Lazy, I heard him com- 

" All this nonagenarian nonsense [plain, 
Won't do ! This mere love of longevity 's vain, 

Although natural, doubtless, in one sense. 
The secret of Age, St. Hilaire may have told ; 

The secret of Youth can he give F 
We'd learn, not to live to be awfullv old, 

But how to keep young while we live ! 
No, no, ehatty nonagenarians ! Loan us 

The gift of Aurora, not that of Tithonus." 

"Rational Dress for the Irratiokal." 
—A penitential sheet, and a foolscap trimmed 
Phrygian VJ O \J^ i C 

Septkmbbb 15, 1894.] 




* Hi, Billie ! 'Ere 's Cheap Gloves I" 


Ob, Rhyme and Reason. 

(By Baron Orimbosh.) 

Since first the Muse to melody gave birth, 
And with rhyme's ehymings blest a happy 

Poetic seekers of a " perfect rhyme " 
Have missed the bull's-eye almost every 

We want a brand-new Versifiers' Guide, 
And he who Pegasus would neatly ruide, 
Must shun bards' beaten highways, read no 

Nor by phonetic laws his stanzas trymn. 
The eye 's the Muse's judge, and by the eye 
Parnassian Pitmans must the poet treye. 
Rhyme to the ear is wrong: at any rate, 
Rhyme that greets not the eye cannot be 

And though by long wrong usage sanctified, 
It may not pass my new Poetic Gied. 
These new Rhyme-Rules let bardlings get by 

For from the New Parnassus must depeart, 

vol. cveu 

From Toflady to Tennyson, all those 
Who prove sweet Poesy's false phonetic f ose. 
Cowpeb and Rowland Hill must be ar- 
In Eeble, Hebeb, Newman, are oontaigncd 
False rhymes the most atrocious upon earth, 
Which might move Momtts to derisive 
mearth. [root, 

Of Rhvme's true laws I'm getting to the 
And a New Poetry will be the froot, [fair. 
The Muse, now by the few acknowledged 
Shall then be warmly welcomed every* hair, 
And not, a* now, in one loud howl sonorous, 
As " footle" banned by Commonsense in 
chorous. ("prise, 

Then a verse-scorning world, in jpleasea sur- 
Will to Parnassus lift delighted ise ; 
And from St. Albans to the Arctic role. 
The " lyric cry " (in Grimbosh rhymes) shall 

The people then not hymns alone shall praise, 
But the sweet secular singer's luscious laise, 
Phonetic laws to wish to change at once 
Must prove a man a duffer ana a donee, 
The laws of spelling are less fatal foze. 
(You can spell "does" as either "duz" or 

And if you wish to make it rhyme with bosh. 
What easier than writing wash as " wosh" ?) 
If Tennyson were all rewritten thus, 
His verse indeed would be de-li-ci-us • 
And Isaac Pitman's spelling would add lots 
Of charm to the great works of Isaac Wotts. 
There ! Grimbosh sets the world right once 

May lesser poets mark ! A-main ! 1 A -main !.! ! 

Scene— A Seaside Library. 

Visitor (wearily , after a series of inquiries 
and disappointments). What I want is a 
recent novel. I haven't read The Vermilion 
Gillyflower yet. It 's been out six months or 
more. Surely you 've got that f 

Shop Attendant. I don't fancy it 's in our 
catalogue. I don't remember hearing of it. 
(Brightly.) We 've got Ivanhoe. 

Visitor (ignoring the suggestion). Well, 
then, I could do with Conan Doyle's last, 
or Stanley Weyman's. 

Shop Attendant. Stanley, did you say? 
Oh yes, we've ordered the Life of Dean 
Stanley, but it hasn't come yet. 

Visitor (gloomily). I don't want anybody's 
life. I want— let's see— A Gentleman of 

Shop Attendant. A Gentleman of France t 
I don t recollect the title. But (cheerfully) 
we've John Halifax, Gentleman, if that'll 
do as well. 

O Visitor (groaning). Oh no, it won't ! How 
about So-so, by Benson, you know ? Or I 
hear Mrs. Cliffobd's latest is worth reading. 
Or Bess of the Curvybills, by Hardy. 
That 's been out a couple of years at least. 
(Hopefully.) Oh, I 'm sure that 's got to you. 

Shop Attendant (floored). Would you look 
through the shelves for yourself, if you 
please P You 'U find something to suit you, I 
Icnow. There 's one or two of Dickens's, and 
Middlemarch- now, that's a rather recent 
work. Or The Channings. We 've had The 
Channings bound again, and it's a great 

[Fats off auite relieved at the entrance of a 
girl who desires a penny time-table and a 
halfpennyworth of writing-paper. 

The Plague of Poets. 

(By a Rabid Reviewer.) 

What's this the log-rollers are gushing 

" Captain Jack Ceawfobd, the Poet Scout ! " 

Oh, bother the Bards ! How the rhyme- 
grinders po it! 

My future rule shall be " scout the poet 1 " 

11 Mutes and Liquids."— Some clever de- 
tectives, of the Birmingham Police Force- 
not by any means Brummagem detectives- 
disguised themselves as •' Mourners' Mutes" 
and such like black guards of hearses, and, 
after a re-hearsal of their several parts, they 
went to a tavern for drink— $;rief, profes- 
sionally or otherwise, being thirsty work — 
and managed to discover that this public- 
house was only a privately oonducted betting- 
house, being, like themselves, in disguise. The 
result has yet to be ascertained, but so far it 
has proved a most successful " undertaking." 

Goon News. — " Cheer, Boys, Cheer!" 
"There's a Good Time Coining" ; for the 
evergreen veteran, Mr. Hbney Russell, is 
11 preparing his reminiscences for publica- 
tion." Mr. Punch looks forward with 
pleasure to perusing them, and wishes that 
Henby's congenial collaborator, Chaeles 
Mackay, were yet living to share the treat. 



[September 15, 1894. 


(A long way a/Ur (hi late Laureate.) 

Slow strolled the wary Puvohiu*, and $aw t 
Betwixt the white elm and the whiter foam, 
Sieeet faces, rounded arms, and bosoms prest 
To little harp* of gold* And Pvwohius 

eaid: — 
" Lo ! I am luoky, after Marion long, 
To light upon these sirens ; and their song 
I fear not, though I 'm wary as Ulysses, 

Nor do I dread their kisses, 
(Seeing that far away Psctelope-J udt 
Abides.) Oh I hang this maudlin mnek from 


I love not, I, these new, neurotic novels, 
In which the wild New Woman soars— and 

Emancipated females are not sirens ! 
There 's pleasure in the peril that environs 

Old-fashioned witchery. 
A pretty English maiden at her stitchery, 
Or a scaled mermaid, siren, or sea-fairy, 
Alike have charms for me. Tet I '11 be wary, 
* Maidens mit nodings '—or but little— 4 on/ 
As BBxmwnr hints, are dangers 
For weak wayfaring strangers. 

But Beauty never hurt me . Fears begone ! 
See how the long-tressed charmers smile and 

beckon I 
I 'U go and risk a chat with them, I reckon!" 

And while Punch muted. 
They whispering to each other a$ in fun, 
Soft music reached the Unsurpassable One. — 

"Whither away, whither away, whither 

awayr Fly no more I 
Whither away from the bright white cliff and 

the sandy siren-haunted shore P 

Skptcmbib 15, 1894] 


Back to town— which is horrible now— or to 
polities— the beastliest bore ? 
Day and night do the printers'-devils call ? 
Day and night do stamp-orators howl and 
Bless f em — and let 'em be ! 
Oat from the city of singular sights, and 

Come to these saffron sands and these silvery 

Far from the niggers, and nursemaids, and 
howling swells, 
Here by the high-toned sea : 
hither, come hither, and furl your sails ! 

Come hither to me, and to me, 
Hither, come hither, and frolic and play, 
(Of course, in a highly-respectable middle- 
aged way). 
Good company we— if yon do not object to 

our— tails. 
And the least little tiny suspicion of silver 
We will sing to you lyrics gay, 
Such as Locker, or Austin Dobson, or Lang 

might pen. 
Oh, we know your society-singers, and now 

and then, 
When old Father Nep's in the sulks, or 

amusement fails, 
Or we're tired of the "merry carols" of 
rollicking gales 
(As young Alfred Tennyson said 
When just a weeny bit * off his (poetical) 

We study another than Davy Jones's Locker, 
our Society No 
Looker 1 

And read your Society Novel or Shilling 

Oh, spangles are sparkling in bight and bay ! 

Come down, Old Gentleman, give us your 

We are modern mermaids, as you may under- 

And fair, and frolic, fun-loving, and blame- 
lessly free. 
Hither, come hither, and see ! " 

And Pcnchtus, waggishly winking a wary 

Cried, " Coming, my nautical darlings I— at 

least, I '11 try. 
Middle-aged P I 'm as young as a masher of 

five-and-twenty I 
I love pretty girls, honest fun, and the far 

I'm 'a young man, 9 but not 'from the 

country,* as you will find, 
And if you are game for flirtation, well, I 

don't mind!" 
And he stepped him down, and he sat by the 

sounding shore, 
And chatted, and flirted, and laughed with 

the sirens four ; 
And he sang, as young Tennyson might have, 

or Uhland, the German, 
This song of the Modern Merman ! — 

11 Who would not be 

A merman bold, 

And sit by the sea, 

With mermaids free. 

And sweet converse hold 

With nice nautical girls, 

And toy with their curls, 

And watch the gleam 

Of their glistening pearls, 

As they chatter, (matter 

On, — well, no matter 

Each with her tale 

And whisks her— narrative. 

(Pink skin or scale, 

Charms are all comparative !) 
Oh what a happy life were mine 
With Beauty (though caudate) beside the 

With four sea-fairies beside the sea 
Punch can live merrily, merrily ! " 


Matter Jacky (who took part in some school theatricals last term,— suddenly, to eminent 
Tragedian who has come to call). " I say, you know—/ act ! " 

And the Mermaids pinched the Punchian cheek 
(For his Caudal lecture) and made him squeak. 
And he cried " Revenge ! " (like Timotheus, 

And a sweet revenge for a nip is a kiss. 
And around the rock siren laughter rang 
And that bevy of sweet sea-fairies sang : — 

11 the laugh-ripple breaks on the breaking 

wave, i 
And sweet are its echoes from cove and cave, 
And sweet shall your welcome be, 
You dear old Cove, 
Whom all she-things love, 
hither, come hither ana be our lord, 

For merry mi? chiefs are we ! 
We kiss sweet kiss, and we ppeak sweet word : 

listen, listen, your eyes shall glisten. 
('Tis better than being by B-rtl-ys bored!) 

Business? fiddle-de-dee !! ! 
With pleasure and love make jubilee. 

Leucosis, Ligea, Parthenope 
Will load your briar and brew your tea. 
And we keep rare stingo down under the 

For we tithe earth's commerce, all duty-free ! 

Where will you light on a happier shore. 

Or gayer companions or richer store, 

All the world o'er, all the world o'er P 
Whither away? listen and stay! To Judy 
ana Parliament fly no more !" 

And sick of St. Stephen's, jn holiday mood. 
The Modern Ulysses half wishes he could/ 



[Skptkhbxb 15, 1891 


(A Story in Scents.) 
Scene XIX.— The Dining Hall. 
SpurreU (to himself, uncomfortably conscious of the expectant 
Thomas tin his rear). Must write something to this beggar, I suppose ; 
it'll keep him quiet. (To Mrs. Bbooke-Chattebis.) I— I just 
want to write a line or two. Could you oblige me with a lead- 

Mrs. Chatterts. You are really going to write! At a dinner- 
parly, of all places! Now how delightfully original and uncon- 
ventional of you ! I promise not to interrupt till the inspiration is 
over. Only, really, Pm afraid I don't carry lead-pencils about with 
me— so bad for one's frocks, you 

know ! 

Thomas (in his ear). I can lend 
you a pencil, Sir, if you require 

[He provides him with a very 
minute stump. 

Spurr. (reading what he has 
written on the back of Undeb- 
shell's missive). "Will be in 
my room (Verney Chamber) as 
soon after ten as possible. 

tc J. Spubbell." 
(He passes the paper to Thomas, 
surreptitiously?) There, take him 
that. [Thomas retires. 

Archie (to himself). The calm 
cheek of these writin' chaps ! I 
saw him talon' notes under the 
table ! Lady Rhoda ought to 
know the sort of fellow he is — 
and she shall ! (To Lady Rhoda, 
in an aggrieved undertone.\ I 
should advise you to be jolly 
careful what you say to your 
other neighbour ; he V talon* it 
all down. I just caught him 
writin'. He'll be bringing out a 
satire, or whatever he calls it. on 
us all by- and- by — you see if he 
won't ! 

Lady Rhoda. What an ill- 
natured boy you are ! Just 
because he can write, and you 
can't And I don't believe he's 
doin' anythin' of the sort. I'll 
ask him—/ don't care ! (Aloud, 
to Spubbell.) I say, I know I'm 
awfully inquisitive — but I do 
want to know so— you 've just 
been writin' notes or something 
haven't youP Mr. Beabpabk 
declares you 're goin' to take 
them all off here — you 're not 
really, are you P 

Spurr. (to himself). That sulky 
young chap has spotted it! (Aloud, 
stammering.) I — take everything 
off ? Here ! I — I assure you I 

ZrittSSSS*"* I^be-^ C^tire." 

Lady Rhoda. I was sure that was what you 'd say ! | But still (with 
reviving uneasiness), I suppose you have made use of things that 
happened just to fit your purpose, haven't you ? 

Smtrr. (penitently). AU I can say is, that— if I have— you won't 
catch me doing it again ! And other people's things don't fit. I 'd 
much rather have my own. 

Lady Rhoda (relieved). Of course! But I'm glad you told me. 
(To Arch re, in an undertone.) I asked him — and, as usual, you 
were utterly wron*. So von '11 please not to be a Pig ! 

Archie (jealously). And you're goin' to go on talkin' to him all 
through dinner ? Pleasant for me— when ltook you down ! 

Lady Rhoda. You want to be taken down yourself , I think. And 

I mean to talk to him if I choose. You can talk to Lady Culvebin— 

phe likes boys ! (Turning to Spubbxll.) I was goin* to ask you— 

ought a Bchipperke to have meat P Mine won't touch puppy biscuits. 

[Spubbell enlightens her on this point ; Abchte glowers. 

Lady Cantire (perceiving that the Bishop is showing signs of 
restiveness). Well, Bishop, I wish I could find you a little more 
ready to listen to what the other side has to say ! 

The Bishop (who has been " heckled" to the verge of his endur- 

ance). I am— ah— not oonsoious of any unreadiness to enter into con- 
versation with the very estimable lady on my other side, should an 
opportunity present itself. 

Lady Cant. Now, that 's one of your quibbles, Dr. Rodney, and I 
detest quibbling ! But at least it shows you haven't a leg to stand 
upon. , 

The Bishop. Precisely— nor to— ah— run away upon, dear Lady. 
I am wholly at your mercy, youperoeive ! 

Lady Cant, (triumphantly). Then you admit you're beaten? Oh, 
I don't despair of you yet, Bishop ! 

The Bishop. I confess I am less sanguine. (To himself) Shall I 
have strength to bear these buffets with anv remains of Christian 
forbearance through three more oourses P Ha, thank Heaven, the 
salad ! [He cheers up at the sight of this olive-branch. 

Mrs. Earwaker (to Pillineb). Now, I don't altogether approve of 

the New Woman myself; but 

still, I am glad to see how women 
are beginning to assert them- 
selves and come to the front : 
surely you sympathise with all 

Pilliner (plaintively). No, really 
I canH, you know ! I 'd so much 
rather tney wouldn't. They 've 
made us poor men feel positively 
obsolete ! They '11 snub us out of 
existence soon— our sex will be 
extinct — and then they'll be 
sorry. There'll "be nobody to 
protect them from one another! 
After all, we can't help being 
what we are. It im't my fanlt 
that I was born a Man Thing— 
now, wit? 

Lady Cant, (overhearing this 
remark). Well, if it is a fault, 
Mr. Pilldteb, we must all ao- 
. knowledge that you've done 
*j? everything in your power to cor- 
rect it! 

Pill, (sweetly). How nioe and 

encouraging of you, dear Lady 

Cantibe. to take up the cudgels 

for me like that ! 

[The Countess privately relieves 

her feelings by expressing a 

preference for taking up a 

birch rod, and renews her 

attack on the Bishop. 

Mr. Shorthorn (who has been 

" depths for a 

to Miss 

„ , haven't 

asked you what you thought 

about these — er — Revolting 

Daughters ? 

Miss Spelwane. No, you 
haven't; and I thought it so 
considerate of you. 
[Mr. Shobthobn gives up drag- 
ging, in discouragement. 
Pul. (sotto voce, to Miss Spel- 
wane). Have you quite done 
sitting on that poor unfortunate 
man r J heard you ! 
Miss Spelw. (in the same tone\ 
I'm afraid I have been rather beastly to him. But. oh, he is such 
a bore— he would talk about his horrid "silos" till I asked him 
whether they were easy to tame. After that, the subject dropped— 

Pill. I see you 've been punishing him for not happening to be a 
distinguished Poet. I thought he was to have been the fortunate 

Miss Spelw. So he was ; but they changed it all at the last mo- 
ment ; it really was rather provoking. I could have talked to him. 

Pill. Lady Rhoda appears to be consoling him. Poor dear 
Abchte'8 face is quite a study. But really I don't see that his 
poetry is so very wonderful ; no more did you this morning ! 

Miss Spelw. Because you deliberately picked out the worst bits, 
and read them as badly as you could ! r 

Pill. Ah, well, he 's here to read them for himself now. I daresay 
he 'd be delighted to be asked. 

Miss Spelw. Do you know, Bebtie, that's rather a good idea of 
yours. I'll ask him to read us something to-night. 

Pill, (aghast). To-night! With all these people htreP I say, 
they '11 never stand it, you know. [Lady Culvebin gives the signal 

September 15, 1894.] 



Miss Spelw. (as she rises). They ought to feel it an immense 
privilege. I know J shall. 

The Bishop (to himself, as he rises). Port in sight—at last I But, 
oh, what I have had to suffer ! 

Lady Cant, (at parting). Well, we 'ye had quite one of our old 
discussions. I always enjoy talking to you. Bishop. But I haven't 
yet got at your reasons for voting as you did on the Parish Councils 
Bill: we must go into that upstairs. 

The Bishop (with veracity). I shall be— ah—all impatience, Lady 
Cajttire. (To himself.) I fervently trust that a repetition of this 
experience may vet be spared me ! 

Lady Rhoda (as she leaves Spub&ell). Ton will tell me the name 
of the stuff upstairs, won't you P So very much ta 1 

Archie (to himself). I'd like to tar him very much, and feather 
him too, for cuttin' me out like this ! (The men sit down ; Spuebell 
finds himself between Abchte and Captain Thicknesse, at the 
further end of the table ; Arc hit? passes the wine to Spubkell with 
a scowl.) What are you drinkin' r Claret P What do you do your 
writin' on, now, as a general thing P 

Spurr. (on the defensive). On paper, Sir, when I 've any to do. Do 
you do yours oh a slate f 

Captain Thicknesse. I say, that 's rather good. Had you there, 
Beabpabe ! 

Spurr. (to Abchie, lowering his voice). Look here, I see you 're 
trying to put a spoke in my wheel. You saw me writing at dinner, 
and went and told that young lady I was going to take everything 
off there and then, which you must have known I wasn't likely to 
do. Now, Sir, it's no business of yours that I can see ; but, as you 
seem to be interested, I may tell you that I shall do it in my own 

room, as soon as I leave this table, and there will be no fuss or 
publicity about it whatever. I hope you 're satisfied now ? 

Archie. Oh, J'm satisfied. (He rises.) Left my cigarette- case 
upstairs— horrid bore— must fro and get it. 

Capt. Thick. They '11 be bringing some round in another minute. 

Archie. Prefer my own. (To himself, as he leaves the hall.) I 
knew I was richt. That bounder is meaning to scribble some rot 
about us all ! He 's goin' straight up to his room to do it. . . . Well, 
he may find a little surprise when he gets there ! 

Capt. Thick, (to himself). Mustn't let this poet fellow think I 'm 
jealous; daresay, after all, these 's nothing serious between them. 
Not that it matters to me ; anyway, I may as well talk to him. I 
wonder if he knows anything about steeplecnasin'. [He discovers that 
Spuebell is not unacquainted with this branch of knowledge. 


-A Corridor leading to the Housekeeper's Boom. 
Time— 9.30 p.m. 

Under shell (to himself). If I wasn't absolutely compelled by sheer 
hunger, I would not touch a morsel in this house. But I can't get 
my things back till after ten. When I do, I will insist on a convey- 
ance to the nearest inn. In the meantime I must sup. After all, no 
one need know of this humiliating adventure. And if I am com- 
pelled to consort with these pampered menials, I think I shall know 
now to preserve my dignity— even while adapting myself to their 
level- And that girl will be there— a distinctly redeeming fact in the 
situation. I will be easy and even affable ; I will lay aside all foolish 
pride; it would be unreasonable to visit their employer's snobbery 
upon them. I hear conversation inside this room, xhis must be the 
door. I— I suppose I had better go in. [He enters. 


(Fragment from a Romance founded on Reality.) 

He had become famous. Or perhaps that was soaroely the word- 
notorious would have been better. At any rate his name had 
appeared in the papers. For nine days everyone talked about him. 
It was during those nine days that he was wanted. No, not by the 
myrmidons of the law. He had escaped 
them. His plea of innocent had been 
accepted. So far as Scotland Yard was 
conoerned he was safe. Quite safe. 

But was he safe from " that other " P 
Ah, there was the point. With the 
instinct of desperation he took himself 
off. He hurried away. He went by an 
excursion train— one that stopped at all 
the stations and was called a " fast train 
to this place" and " that jplace," but 
never referred to in connection with its 
destination— and arrived in due time at a cockney watering-place. 

He was followed ! As sure as fate, came the follower ! Beady to 
hunt him down ! Ready to take him ! He rapidly repacked his bag. 
He hurriedly left for the station. Once again he was flyinp away. 
Now he had chosen a prosperous city. The place was teeming with 
population. Surely he would be lost in this giddy throng P No. He 
was followed ! On came the pursuer ! Ready to tske him ! 

Again and again the same thing happened. Did he go to the 
Continent, his pursuer was after him. Did he travel to Scotland, he 
was met in the Highlands by the same fatal presence. 

It was useless to fight against destiny any longer. Assisted by those 
interested in a popular paper— which had slightly altered its character, 
changing from an authority on scientific research into a cheap 
sporting weekly— he reached the Antarotio Circle. He heard 
following footsteps. He tried to hide himself behind the South Pole. 
But it was of no avaiL At length he was discovered ! They stood 
face to face, both wearing skates. 
" What do you want with meP" 
•* You were accused of murder, but was innocent." 
44 Yes," he returned, with an ugly frown. 44 1 was innocent that 

44 You are an interesting person. I have followed you all this way 
because I have determined to interview you." 

•• No you don't," cried the pursued, drawing a sword walking-stick, 
and holding the blade dagger-wise. 

44 Yes I do," shouted the pursuer, producing a note-book. " And 
now tell me who were your father and mother ? " 
There was a short, decisive struggle, and then all was over. 
44 If there is ever an inquest in this distant spot," said the 
conqueror, 44 the jury will bring it in justifiable homicide." 
And no doubt he was right in his conjecture. 

Title for the New Ibxbk Fabgical Comedy.— The Two (or 
more) Shamrocks ; or % A Little Cheque ' 

(To be Translated into every Language.) 


Why, although I telegraphed for rooms, am I told at three in the 
morning that there is no tetter accommodation for me than this 
stable P 

Why do you threaten me with the police-station for protesting P 

Why do you take me by the throat and drag me 
along when I am offering no resistance P 

Why do you put me in a cell when I had ordered 
a n ap parently now occupied bed-chamber at the hotel P 

Wny do you refuse me a mattress, and take away 
the plank bedstead with which this dungeon is solely 
furnished P 

Why may I not see a solicitor ? 

Why do you refuse to send for the British Consul ^ 
when I tell you that my cousin's maiden aunt is 
engaged to a Bishop ? 

What more can I do to prove my respectability when m 
I have shown you my certificate of birth, my commission in the 
Militia, my banker's pass-book, my diploma as an utter-barrister, 
several framed and illuminated addresses of congratulation, and my 
passport P 

WTiy, although I have offered to pay for it, can I not have a decent 
breakfast P 

Why do you insist upon my making a nauseous meal on stale bread 
and unfiltered water P 

Why should you refuse me pens, ink, and paper P 

Why should I not write to the Editor of the Times f 

Why should you take away my watch, and put me in a praotising- 
ground amidst drunkards, forgers, and burglars P 

Why should you not believe me when I assure you that it is a 
mistake when you fancy I have oome to sketch the outworks of the 
frontier fortress ? 

Why should you not credit my assertion that I only procured a 
circular ticket because I wanted to see foreign parts and taste foreign 

Why, after all this worry and anxiety, should you mumble some- 
thing about 4i misapprehension," and bundle me out without an 
apology P 

The Runker Nuisance.— 4t T. L.," writing to The Times about 
the nuisance of ** cab-runners" in the London streets, says, 44 a 
stream that cannot be dammed can be turned." But this stream of 
44 oab-iunners" is being daily and hourly so treated, of course only 
by male occupants of cabs carrying luggage, and the runners take 
nothing but damnum et itt/uriam " for their pains. But when the 
travellers with impedimenta are ladies or ladies' maids, and nurses 
with children, then evidently this objectionable stream cannot be 
44 dammed " unless the butler or a stalwart footman be at home to 
receive Mesdames lee royageuses. In these cases, Eve travelling 
ought to have Adam handy. 



[September 15, 1894. 


The Throat Doctor. !t And does your little Boy eveb Snore, Mrs. Brown ? " 

Mrs. Brown. "I t^nt thisk so. He always sleeps in our Room, and we 'ye never noticed it !' 

Ltttle Brown. ■ • M. • a u r Snores — if you like ! " 


Or, the Friends of United Ireland. 

Air— " EMiiacorthy:\ 

You may travel over Europe till your heart and foot-soles ache, 
Yon may meet wid many a warrior, but don't make a mistake, 
The wondher of the wurruld, and of pathriots wide-awake, 

Is the Parthy that is " led " by poor McCartht. 
The way they pnll together " nils a man wid shame and dread ; 
They 're all in love wid Erin swate— or lasteways so 'tis said- 
Ana the way each proves his passion is by breaking 'tether's head, 

'Tis that that plays the mischief wid McCarthy. 

For Dillon goes for Hraly's chump, 
And at O'Brien aims a thump, 

And Redmond hits all round with anger heart hy ; 
And the stioks they all go whacking, 
And the tkulls, faith, they are cracking. 

When Justin tries to lead the Oirish Parthy ! 

When they got " a little oheque " or two a desperate row arose, 
Tim Healy dashed at " Honest John " and fought him to a dose, 
And Redmond showed designs upon O'Brien's classic nose, 

It was that which riz the dander of McCarthy. 
They hustled round poor Erin so they nearly knocked her down, 
She Darely dodged a cudgel that was aimed at Dillon's crown, 
" And och ! " she sighed, " if this is love a colleen well may frown 

On the wooing of a crack-brained Oirish Parthy." 

Chorus.— For Dillon went for Healt's chump, &c. 

They we:e all f jut " friends" of Erin, they 'd declared so o'er and 

But Healy scorned O'Brien, and deemed Honest John a bore ; 
While Redmond called them liars all, and sycophants, and swore 

He wouldn't hold a candle to McCarthy. 
There wasn't much to foight about save mutual hate and spleen, 
And yet such a hhillelagh-ioight at Donnybrook ne'er was seen ; 
Black oies, red noses ! Faith it looked as though they'd strew the 

Wid the fragments of the " Chief" they called McCarthy. 

Chorus.— For Dillon went for Healt's nose, Ac. 

And all their inimies locked on. and laughed as they would doie ; 
And every friend of Erin wiped a tear from sorrow's oie ; 
Saying " If such friends of Unity why ever don't they trroy 

To *how a firm united Oirish Parthy P " 
Sighed Erin ** Would to Providence this faction-foight were done ! 
Itbreaks the hearts of pathriots, to my foes 'tis purest fun, 
Why can't they sthop these parthy-sphlits and merge them into 
One ? 

That 's all that now is needed,— ax McCartht ! " 


But Dillon goes for Hraly's chump, 
He at O'Brien aims a thump, 

And Redmond hits all round with anger hearthy ; 
And the sticks they still go whacking, 
And the skulls they still are cracking. 

Whosoever tries to lead the Oirish Parthy ! 


Died at Stowb House, Buckinghamshire, Sept. 8, 1894. 

A royal exile, and our England's guest, 

Let English church-bells chime him to bis rest, 

Whilst English hearts respectfully condole 

With a devoted wife's sore- sorrowing soul. 

Not as the heir of a too shadowy crown, 

Who knew long exile's ache, and fortune's frown, 

But as a friend who long with us did dwell, 

And a brave man who bore fierce suffering well. 

We grieve for him, and bow as sounds his passing bell. 

A Suggested Addendum.— In the course of a sharply-written 
article in this month's The Theatre Magazine (under the editorship 
of Frederick Hawkins), Mr. Clement Scott, while indignantly 
repelling the charge of venality brought against French dramatic 
critics by their compatriot M. Alexandre Dumas, observes, referring 
to English authors. " We have our Dumases on this side of the 
Channel. 9 * Undeniably. And, we may add, " Would they were 
Dumb-asses! '^ Digitized by VjOOQIC 

PUNCH, OB THE LONDON CHABIYABL- Seftbhbbb 15, 1894. 



Digitized by 


September 15, 1894.] 




(By Mr. Punch's Own Fstercm Expert.) 

It was a happy thought of the respected Editor of this paper (if I 
may be permitted so to say) to commission me to undertake a 
thorough inspection of the guns at the Admiralty Pier, Dover. Since 
war has broken out between China and Japan there is no taying what 
may happen next, and it seems to me that a plain statement of our 
preparedness vi'l have a reassuring effect. So without further 

preface I will relate my adven- 
tures, taking care, however, to 
give no information that can be 
serviceable to the enemy. 

I am a bit of a soldier myself 
but frankly confess that I was 
not nearly so much of a warrior 
as my companion. We had a 
pass for two, and it was under- 
stood that nothing should be done 
through indiscretion that might 
endanger the safety of the 
country. So if my description 
is not what the dramatic critics 
of the nearly newest school term 
11 convincing," the omission is 
accounted for. We two, braving 
the rain the wind and the spray, 
■ -- £M ^mmmm* \v x P 11 * *& an appearance at the end 

~s Y&^&W%K " v M of the Admiralty Her. There 
~* v u was a sort of boat-house on our 

right, which seemingly contained 
clothing for those who intended 
to do the guns. 

44 You had better put on canvas, 
Sir," said the oustodian; u the 
engineers are about, and it is rather dirty down below." 

My companion was soon suited with a pair of overalls and a 
jumper. I would have been fitted as speedily if the date of the 
adornment had been anticipated by twenty years or so. As it was, 
my weight rather interfered with the measurement. From the size 
of the canvas clothing in stock, I am afraid our army must be a 
skinny one. Be this as it may, I had to wear "36," when "44" 
would have been nearer the mark. The result was that I walked 
with difficulty, and found 1 could not cough. So I was rather glad 
that there was no chance of meeting the fairer sex, as I was quite 
sure that I was not looking my best. And I say this although I was 
tied together with bits of rope, and did wear an old jockey cap. 

44 We will go and see the powder magazine first," said our guide, 
flourishing what seemed to me to be a cheap kind of teapot, with a 
light at the end of it, " It is so many feet below the level of the sea 
at low water." 

I carefully refrain from giving the number of feet— first, because 
I will disclose no confidences, and. secondly, because I have forgotten 
it. So down we went into the depths of the earth. The hole was 
about as bif as a kitchen chimney, and had, on one side of it a 
number of iron bars, serving 1 as a ladder. Oar guide, went first, then 
my companion, then I myself. I shall never forget the experience. 
I have often heard of the treadmill, and this seemed a revised 
edition of the punishment. Each bar hurt my feet, and each foot of 
descent increased my temperature. I went very slowly— it was im- 
possible to go fast in overalls " 36." When I had descended what 
appeared to me to be a mile or so, I came to a full stop. I was 
standing in a sort of empty store-cupboard— the kind of place 
where careful housewives stack boxes and unused perambulators. 

44 This is the magazine," raid our conductor, waving his illumi- 
nated tea-pot about, so that we might see the place tobetter advantage. 
44 Is this all?" I asked, rather disappointed, as after so much 
exertion I should have been glad of a little excitement. Even an 
infernal machine on tick would have been something. 

44 Yes, that's all, Sir," returned the teapot-bearer, beginning to 
mount the ladder. He was followed by my companion. I brought 
up the rear, and felt like the great-grandfather of Jack Sheppard 
escaping from Newgate. When I was half way it occurred to me 
that it was really very wrong to allow people to see such secrets. I 
might have been a spy, or a political agent, or something or other. 
Tea, such things should not be permitted, and I rcoommenoed my 

44 Take care where you go, Sir ! There 's a loose plank there- 
abouts ! " 

It was the voice of our leuler. It came from above, and had a 
ventnloquial sound about it. I felt inclined to reply in a shrill 
falsetto, " What a funny man you are Mr. Cole ! " but would not. 
First, it was undignified: secondly, I hadn't the breath to do it. 

44 Wearily, drowtily," like Miss Mat Yohe, but (considering my 
costume) with a difference, I came to the surface. I felt that I had 

been for the last ten hours in the hottest room of a local Chinese 
Turkish Bath. I was so limp that had I been told that the fairest 
of the fair and the riohest of the rich combined was on the eve of 
being introduced to me, I should not have made any effort to get 
away. Tes, in spite of being conscious that I had rubbed my nose 
with a smutty glove, and consequently had something in common 
with the sweep. 

44 We are going to see the engines," said my friend. 

44 Only so many hundred feet below the level of the o^ean," added 
our conductor. (It will be obserred that I carefully avoid figures for 
the reasons I have already given.) 

44 Thanks, no," I gatped out ; " I don't think I will go. I suppose 
they are exactly like other engines P " 

" Not in the least." 

44 Ah, then that decides me, I will stay here," and I did. 

I am glad to say that the engines appeared to be particularly in- 
teresting, and kept my friend and his escort busily engaged for about 
half an hour. At length my companions returned. I was partially 
recovered. I was no longer as limp as a bit of string; I was by this 
time almost as strong as a piece of address cardboard. 

44 You should have seen the engines," said my friend in a tone of 
reproach, " they were excellent." 

I replied that I would take his word for it. Then we went to see 
the guns themselves. Well, I frankly confess I was disappointed. 
They were the usual sort of guns. Big tubes and all that kind of 
thing. Bather silly than otherwise. 

44 They are only fired twice a year," said our guide, as if that 
enhanced their value. And now I began to understand why the 
casemates had such an " apartments furnished" air about them. 
The windows had brass fittings. I expected to see curtains hanging 
from above, and was quite disappointed not to find a canary in a 
birdcage hanging down between the window and the gun muzzle. 

44 Dear me! " I observed, 4i so these are the guns! They are fired 
I supposed by Number One P " 

Our conductor was absolutely startled at my remark. Many years 
sinoe I was a Volunteer Artilleryman, ancl I had stumbled on a 
technical term. " Number One" is the gunner of the firing-party 
who fires (i.e. lets off) the gun. The result of this display of know- 
ledge was an elaborate description by our guide of the oharacter of 
the gun bristling with technicalities. (Wishing to protect the 
Government secrets I do not transcribe it) , 

Then we went to see how the jrun was loaded, how it was laid or 
aimed. At last we came to the look-out tower. 

4 * Only room for one gentleman," said our guide; axd I nobly 
yielded first place to my frieDcL He went up, and his head dis- 
appeared. I could only see his body from the neck downwards. 
He appeared very agitated. Later on he came down, and saying there 
was a "stifliah breeze." invited me to take his place. Ascending 
slowly, greatly impeded by fit and fatigue, I got to the top of the 
ladder. My head disappeared, and my body I knew must have 
become greatly agitated. And this was not surprising. For my 
body was still in the hottest room of the local Chinese Turkish Bath, 
which had grown hotter than ever, and my head had apparently 
suddenly found itself on the summit of Mont Blanc. Yes, and in 
winter weather. For a moment it was all I could do to avoid what 
seemed to me to be avalanches, frozen thunderbolts and Atlantic 
icebergs. They seemed to be dashing over me. Clio nog for dear 
Kf e to what appeared to be a sort of giassless cucumber frame was our 
conductor. He explained something or other in a voice that sounded 
as if he were a ventriloquist who was making a man say " Good 
night " at the top of a very high chimney. 

I intimated that I was perfectly satisfied. This I did in dumb 
show by pro mptl y dropping my head and climbing down as quickly 
as possible. When I reached the stone floor my face was ice for a 
moment and then turned red hot, following the example set by the 
rest of my body. 

Shortly afterwards, staggering in my imperfect fit, I once more 
returned to the entrance of the boat-house. The robes surrounding me 
were carefully untied in several directions. I drew off my overalls, 
my jumper, my shocking bad hat, my torn white gloves. I resumed 
my ordinary clothes. " Richabd was himself again." At least, as 
near himself as he could be after a loss of about two stones of weight 
and the greater part of his voice. 

44 You will not give particulars that will endanger the safety of 
the State?" 

I promised (in a feeble, melancholy tone that seemed to me like a 
mouse's dying farewell to sorrowing relatives) that I wouldn't. 

And I hope I haven't _____ 

(Brummagem Version of a Celebrated Quatrain.) 

Trehe was a Bad in the days that were earlier ; 
Years fleeted by, he $rew smarter and curlier ; 
Further years gave him a Toryish twist. 
Then he was limes man, and Unionist ! ^Cj|C 



[Skptbhbeb 15, 1894. 

SlPTIMBSB 15, 1894.] 




Snre now in festal rhyme 
Of Hymen's harvest-time, 

The happy chances 
When Cupid's fragrant torch 
Leads to the sacred porch 
And the hells' wedding chime 

Crowns young romances. 

Here, whispering somewhat 

Gathers the wonted crowd ; 
Matrons with . heart still 

Happily tearful, 
Critics of dress, avow'd, 
Too sibilant of tongue, 
And, thick the throne among, 
Damsels expectant stall 
Of love, their lives to nil, 

Chatty and cheerful. 

See, there the bridegroom 

Till at the nWr-strewn gates 

His love desoendeth, 
And all ears listening, 
And some eyes glistening, 
Fiction's romances pale 
While of a real love-tale 

First chapter endeth. 

The ohoLr-boys, open-eyed, 

Forget their psalter 
For gazing at the bride, 
Childlike vet dignified, 
Ihere by ner lover's side, 

Before the altar. 

Here to the shrine they 

That old pure offering 

Of all religions, 
Hallowing their first, young 

A pair of turtle-doves, 
Or two young pigeons. 

;w r f 


| ADMirrrpJ n 


[To perambulate t v.n., in German tpazieren ; in French, eepromener; ia Italian, 


Johann Schmidt. " Ach I vat a bitty, Mister Chokes ! Zen ve must 


Never since Adam's primal 
banns were cried 
By every bird in Eden's 
leafy minster, 
Has such a bridegroom taken 
such a bride. 
So true a Bachelor, so sweet 
a Spinster. 


How many woes, the heavens 
The sons of men assume ! 
For some, they say, are boomed 
to death, 
While some have ne'er a 
And some like rockets rise 
and fall— 
A sadder lot have they 
Whose rockets never mount at 
But fizz and die away. 

My sun is sinking to the 
It did not fairly rise. 
In velvet coats I can't in- 
Nor in Byronio ties. 
The very cheapest " shag " I 
My thirst on water quenoh— 
My latest sixpence when I 
I knew I must retrench. 

Upon a simple scone I lunch, 

Or luncheon I ignore — 
I cannot even buy a Punch — 

A most terrific bore ! 
But yet at Fleet Street, 85. 

From gazing none retard, 
And solace still may thenoe 

An impecunious Bard. 


There was a time I loved to row 
Upon the Thames, and pitch my tent 

On reedy islands lying low, 
Without a thought of tax or rent. 

Bnt if I sleep in puddles now 
I get rheumatics, gout and cramp. 

The Thames has grown— I know not how— 
So damp. 

There was a time I loved to climb 
From morn till eve, from eve to morn, 

Those snow-capped Alpine peaks sublime, 
The Riri ana the Matternorn. 

Now, Ludgate Hill is quite as much 
As I oan do, or Hornsey Rise — 

Mountains, you see, have grown to such 
A size. 

There was a time I loved to flit 
To Margate with its German bands, 

And split my sides at nigger- wit, 
Or ride on donkeys on the sands. 

Now, niggers have got coarse and low. 
And if I mount on steeds, they cough, 

Or wink, or wag their ears and throw 
Me off. 

But now my nerves are all a wreck 
I'll seek some leas exacting sport 

In Regent's Park, nor risk my neck 
In foolish pranks of that mad sort. 

1 11 find some steady man who owns 
A safe reliable Bath-chair, 

And tip him well to wheel my bones 
With care. 


u Am I too sweeping when I say that we 
have more to fear from drinking and gambling 
than from all the capitalists put together F " 
So boldly and pertinently asked Mr. President 
Delves, in his opening speech at the Norwich 
Trades Union Congress. Mr. Delves ** paused 
for a reply." Mr, Punch gives it with an 
emphatio "No!" 

ft is not every working-man's friend who 
will tell the working-man this wholesome 
truth : that the Bottle and the Betting-Book 
are his worst enemies. When he defeats 
them, the grasping capitalist, the mere greedy 
monopolist, will not have a chanoe against 
him. Sober workmen who did not gamble 
would indeed be " too strong to be afraid of 
Parliament," or any other power. 

Mr. Delves spoke of strikes as likely to be- 
oome '* an old weapon like the discarded flint- 
lock of a past age." Good again! But if the 
workmen will organise an effective strike, as 
general aspoaaible, against Beer and Betting, it 
will the best day's work they have ever done 
for themselves and their country, and against 
exacting capitalism and sweating monopoly. 
When workmen act on Dblvbs'b plan, 
Who will fight the Working-man P 

Or, to adapt another old piece of doggerel : — 

If the Working-man 

Will work on the plan 
That Dbxvbs set forth at Norwich ; 

Check betting and drouth, 

Need he burn his mouth 
With the Socialist's hot porridge f 


Constantinople at Oltmpia. 

To the confines of Asia 'tis easy to roam- 
Here's a bus, going west, which invites 

Ton (absurdly enough) to go east to the home 
Of all manner of Turkish delights. 

On arriving, at onoe you embark ia a boat 
Of a name unpronounceable quite, [afloat 

And through vistas of columns are wafted 
In unspeakable-Turkish delight. 

The vocab. in the programme is really Al, 
Ton can pick up the language at sight, 

And converse with your Turk in his own 
native tongue 
To his infinite (Turkish) delight. 

Then the making of carpets and Galata tower 
Are both of them well worth a sight ; 

And the houris you 'U view in their shop- 
window bower. 
With mild, semi-Turkish delight. 

'Twill be long ere the ahow on the stage you 
For the ballets are wonderfully bright, 
There 'a an interval too, for a "naioe 
A Britannioo-Turkiah delight. 

When at last to an end the great spectacle 
You bid Constantinople good night ; 
And you go home enchanted, with several 
Of the genuine " Turkish delight" 





[September 15, 1894. 


The volumes of "The Autonym Library" by any other name 
would be just as handy. " It was a carious coincidence in names," 
quoth the Baron, " that, when first I took up one of these volumes, I 
was discoursing with an eminent judge on some mysterious points in 

the celebrated ' Claimant' trial, 
a full and detailed report of 
which would afford matter for 
an * Arthur-Ortonym ' library 
of fiction." The particular 
volume which had attracted 
the Baron's attention was Mad 
Sir Uchtred of the Bills, by 
R.R.Crockett. 'Tis a strange 
book, and the * * kindly reader," 
so addressed pref atially by the 
author, may have a kindly 
word for it, and, u by my 
troth," quoth the Baron, " the 
reading of it made pass an 
hour or so 'twixt meal-times 
not unpleasantly," the while 
he sat on the smooth deck of a 
wave - conquering yacht, in 
view of the hoary tide of the Green Isles of Arrah andBedad, what 
time the Sea-any-monies and the coal-scuttle fish shot like blue 
blazes " through the silver threads of the still and sleepy waters." 
And that is now the Baron would write were he describing the 
scene Crockettically. The story of Sir Uchtred was evidently 
suggested by the Strange Adventures of the Great King Nebu- 
chadnezzar, and indeed the guileless author would so have it 
understood from the headings prefixed to his chapters. There is 
muoh about "Randolph" in it, which is pleasant, seeing that for 
some time " our only Randolph" is absent from us, going round the 
world, and getting himself, the Baron hopes, all round again by the 

Sir Uchtred goes mad, mad as a hatter — (" What hatter P But no 
matter ! " quoth the poetical Baron).— and wanders about " with a 
tile off," just as a hatter would do who was so demented as to forget 
his business. Then at the oritical moment he is su4denly restored to 
his senses by hearing, in the darkness, far down, a bell ring I Tea, he 
had heard it before, a sweet church bell, long ago in his infancy. . . . 
Just as the wicked character in Nicholas Nickleby's first play 
written for the Crummies Company, the villain of the piece, when 
about to commit his greatest piece of villainy, hears a clock strike ! He 
has heard a clock strike in happier times, in the days of hisinnooency, 
and he is struck by the striking coincidence, and he weeps— he 
relents ! he is good once more ! ! ! And this is how mad Sir Uchtred is 
brought back again to his senses, and how all ends happily for every- 
body except for a certain lame tamed black wild cat, which, after 
having had a great deal to do with the story, disappears, and is heard 
of no more. Alas ! poor Torick ! Will good Sir R. Crockett of the 
Pens write another little red book— (" such is the colour of the cover 
in the Autonym Library. But for certain 'tis a much read book," 
quoth idiotic Sir Bookred of the Swills)— informing us what became 
of the cat with three legs and eight lives, one of its chances having 
pone ? I haven't met such a cat as this since Mr. Anthony Hope 
introduced us to the appreciative tail-less one belonging to Mr. 
Witt's Widow. 

And another book in the library is The Upper Berth. It sounds an 
aristocratic title, doesn't it ? Go not by sound save when the cheering 
dinner-gong or luncheon-bugle may summon thee ; and then " stand 
not on the order of your going," but go and order whatever there may be 
on the menu. " The Upper Berth." says the Baron, still aboard the 
gallant vessel, "is the best ghost story I have read for many a day. 
'Tis by Marion Crawford, and not written in his well-known 
modern Roman hand. Then in the same volume, by the same author, 
is The Waters of Paradise, which is disappointing, certainly, after 
the sensational Upper Berth. Therefore/* quoth the Baron, "my 
counsel and advice is, read, if you will, The Waters of Paradise, 
only take them off at a draught first ; don't mix the spirit with the 
waters, but take The Upper Berth afterwards. For choice read it 
in bed, with the aid of one solitary light, taking oare to select a 
tempestuous night, when boards creak, windows rattle, and doors 
open of their own accord. In these conditions you will thoroughly 
enjoy Marion Crawford's Upper Berth, and will gratefully thank 
the thoughtful and considerate Baron de Book- Worms." 

P.S. — Once more ashore, and abed, oonvalescenting, in view of the 
luphosboytoning thalasses (Yes, my boy ! the Baron knoweth the 
.reek is not thus, but why not lug in the name of sea-going Botton 
on such an appropriate occasion ? ), the Baron readeth Ships that pass 
in the Night. A deeply pathetic story in one volume, which the Baron 
cannot regret not having read long ere this, as it suits his mood so 
exactly now. He thanks Miss Beatrice Haeraden, and would re- 


commend the book everywhere, and to everybody, but that by now no 
such passport is necessary. Certain personages and localities in the 
story recall to the Baron's mind a pretty play, and a most successful 
one, produced at the St. James's Theatre under Mr. Alexander's 
management. It was Liberty Hall, by Sidney Carton, and the 
characters were the friendless girl, played, I fancy, by Marion 
Terry ; the somewhat cynical and mysterious lonely man, played by 
Mr. George Alexander ; and, finally. Toddy, the old bookseller and 
book-collector, a part that suited Mr. Reghton down to the ground. 
Such undesigned coincidences are interesting to reader and playgoer, 
and in no way detract from the author's originality, b. db B W 


Or, How it will Strike Posterity. 

{Circa 2894 A.D.) 

Amanda (looking over Amandus's shoulder). What are you so 
absorbed in, my dear ? 

Amandus {rousing himself). Why darling, in this very clever, 
though painful, antiquarian work by Dr. Digemup called " Dips into 
the Dismal Ages." (Shudders sympathetically.) Dear, dear, now it 
makes one pity one's poor, respectable, but ridiculous ancestors of 
about a thousand years syne, — say the end of the " so-called Nine- 
teenth Century ! " 

Amanda. Why dear, what did they do ? 

Amandus. You should rather ask, what did they suffer f I was 
reading a graphic, but harrowing, account of an extraordinary 
annual" Custom" they had— they, the conventional, commonplace, 
conformists of the day, top- hatted Philistines, "civilised" into 
characterlessness, polished into pithlessness, humanised into moral 
pap and pulp. It seems to have Deen a custom almost as cruel as 
the blood-bath of Dahomey, as irrational and tormenting as the 
hari-kari of old Japan. 

Amanda. Dear me ! Poor dear deluded duffers, why did they 

Amandus. That even the pundits of the " Shrimpton-on-Sea " Ex- 
ploration Society cannot so muchasconjeoture. Their excavatorslatelv 
came upon a most mysterious " marine deposit " in a sand-ohokea 
chalk-cave in the course of repairing the great South-Coast Marine 
Embankment. Here are pictures of some of the items. Many of 
them are mysteries whose nature and use cannot be fathomed. Here 
is an apparatus supposed to have been a barbarous musical instru- 
ment, a hoop witn a piece of parchment stretched across it, and 
ornamented with movable brazen discs. It may have been used to 
scare gulls. At any rate, it must have made a hideous din when 
beaten or agitated. It was discovered near certain strange semi- 
polished fragments of what were apparently the rib-bones of some 
extinct animals. Their use now cannot even be surmised ; neither 
can that of a curious wooden implement somewhat resembling a 
miniature model of the obsolete agricultural implement onoe known, 
it appears, as a " shovel " or " spade." 

Amanda. How very odd ! Still, hardly dreadful, dear, so far, eh? 

Amandus {gravely). Perhaps not ! Though the significance even 
of these comparatively harmless absurdities is painful. But my dear, 
Dr. Digbmup'b .researches lead him to the belief that in the latter 
half of the Nineteenth Century a hideous " Annual Custom" pre- 
vailed. In the autumn of the year, it would seem, a sort of Social 
Edict of Banishment drove all decent and well-to-do citizens from 
their own happy homes, to make themselves miserable — by way of 
penance probably— in strange places, fusty, ill-furnished, often 
unhealthy, and always expensive, far from all the comforts and 
decencies, the conveniences and charms of their own well-ordered 

Amanda. But why did they do this dismal thing ? 

Amandus. It is not conceivable that they would do it save or com- 
pulsion. It is conj ectured that some secret religious tribunal or venge- 
ful Social Vehmgericht drove the devoted victims to this dreadful 
doom. They had to pass weeks, and sometimes months, either in 
continual travel— as tiring and painful as the penitential pilgrim- 
ages of a yet earlier date— or in compulsory incarceration in dismal 
dungeons or comfortless caravanserais. 

Amanda (shivering). Oh dear, how veru dreadful I 

Amandus. Dreadful, indeed ! The leaders, controllers, or " gang- 
ers" of these Autumnal Pilgrimages of Pain, were certain mysterious 
functionaries called, it appears, by the generic name of "Pater- 
familias." The Paterfamilias, who appears to correspond somewhat 
to the ancient idea of a Pilgarlio or Scapegoat, had. th ragh " sore 
against his will," like the mythical John Gilpin, to lead his family 
followers in this peripatetic purgatory, suffer its worst horrors him- 
self, and— pay aU the expenses ! 7 ! 

Amanda. Shocking f ! ! And what did they call this homd 
custom ? 

Amandus. As far as can be ascertained, it seems to have been 
known as the " Annual Holiday," or " Autumn Outing " ! 

September 22, 1894.] 




( With some Notes on a Detective Melodrama at the Ambigu.) 

Dear Ms. Punch, — When I announced my intention of iunning 
over to Paris for a few days, my friend Buzzard looked at me with a 
stony contempt. "To Paris?" he said, "at this time of year! 
Why, yon mnst be mad. What on earth are you going to do 
there?" I tried to explain to Buzzard, whose frigid superiority 
frightens me, that I lfl J T *'~" ^^ T 

liked Paris, that I was going there pour me 
dSgourdir ; that it was just as possible to 
breakfast at Ledoyen's or Yoisin's, and 
to dine at Durand's or Joseph's in Sep- 
tember as at any other time ; that a few 
theatres were still open ; that the Boule- 
vards were there for the fldneur ; but 1 
failed to penetrate his scorn, even with 
the most idiomatic French at my com- 
mand. However, I determined that Buz- 
zard, like the weight of the elephant in 
the problem, mnst be neglected; and 
here I am in the Rue de Bivoh with 
another madman like unto myself. We 
take our cafS complet in bed : we wear 
beautiful French ties, made of foulard, 
with two vast ends floating like banners 
in the Parisian breeze— in a word, we are 
thoroughly enjoying ourselves in an entirely non-British fashion— 
which I take, indeed, to be of the essence of a pleasant holiday. 
What care we for the echoes of the Trades Union Congress ; for the 
windiest of Ketb Hardib's blatancies ; for the malignities of Mr. 
Chamberlain, or the failure of Lord Rosebery's Ladas at Don- 
caster ? We are in Paris, and the sight of a cuirassier trotting past 
with his great black crinicre waving behind, or of the lady bicyclists 
scudding by in knickerbockers, excites us more than even the latest 
ravings of the newest woman in London. Buzzard be blowed ! Tou 
may tell him I said so. 

I want to let Mr. Conan Doyle know that there is a great open 
ing for him here. If I may judge by the latest detective drama, the 
ideas of the Parisian public with regard to the acumen and general 
power of a deteotive are still very primitive. Tet Gaboriatt did 
something in this line, and, in the Vicomte de Bragelonne, did not 
<T Artagnan show himself on the occasion of a certain duel to be a 
detective of unmatohable force? Still the fact remains that the 
play-going Parisian public is easily satisfied in the matter of deteot- 
lves. listen, if you doubt me, to a plain unvarnished account of 
44 La Belle Limonadiere," the " Grand drame nouveau en cinq 
actes, hitit tableaux" which is now running gloomily, but with 
immense success, at the Ambigu. 

Madame de MazeroUes. a wealthy widow, is, in the first Act. 
robbed and brutally murdered by her stepson, Roland, a dissipated 
young man, who is incited to the commission of the crime by his 
wicked mistress Sabine. Vidocq, the great representative of the new 
school in detection (circa A.D. 1820), is away at the time, and in his 
absence the investigation falls to his rival Yvrier, who belongs to the 
old school. In the chamber of death Yvrier soon makes up his mind 
that the guilty person is one Henri Lebrun, a faithful and gigantic 
old soldier, much given to beating his breast with both fists and 
talking at large about his services to his country, his immaculate 
honesty and his domestio virtues. Suddenly yidocq enters. He dis- 
covers that the assassin has entered by a certain door because a cob- 
web has been disturbed, he picks up a red flower dropped by the 
assassin, he pours contempt on the crass stupidity of Yvrier— all 

?uite in the best Sherlock Holmes style. But nothing comes of it alL 
cor Henri Lebrun, still beating his breast with fists, is arrested, and 
after a painful interview with his only daughter (whom he discovers 
to have been the mistress of George, the son of Madame MazeroUes), 
he becomes sublime, accuses himself quite unnecessarily of the murder 
he had never committed, and is marched off to prison amid the 
execrations of the populace, the triumph of the crass Yvrier, and the 
loudly expressed determination of yidocq to bring the guilty to 
justice ana save the 'life of the innocent Lebrun. Time passes. 
Lebrun, overwhelmed by an entire absence >of proofs, is tried and 
condemned to death. ' It is the morning appointed for his execution. 
The curtain Tjses in the upper floor of a restaurant commanding an 
extensive view of the guillotine. The sight-seers troop in. First of 
all comes Roland, the murderer, disguised in black as a wicked 
Marquis, and accompanied by the infamous Sabine, Hilene Lebrun, 
the daughter of the condemned man, also troops in to slow musio in 
black. There is a commotion at the door, and the obsequious inn- 
keeper backs on to the stage ushering in Milord Sir John Sttitonsyi 
his son "Shames" Sir John is dressed in an enormous green 
swallow-tailed coat with brass buttons, a striped yellow waistooat, a 
pai of yellow knickerbockers, and stockings orilliantly striped with 
red and black. On his head he wears a low-crowned hat' In one 
hand he carries an umbrella, while a telescope dangles from his 

tol. era. 

shoulders by a strap. In short, he is tout-ce-qu'il-y-a de plui 
Anglais. His son Shames is even more aggressively, British. Sir 
John orders lunch: "vous donner moa biftech" is the obvious 
formula. Shames concurs with a " Yehs. Pappah," which provokes 
roars of laughter. But stay, what is this r Sir John takes Shame* 
aside: they talk in beautiful French. Can it be? Yes, by Heaven,! 
it is the great Vidocq with his faithful Coco-Latour ! We breathej 
again, for now we know that the innocent man is safe. The pro-' 
cession, however, approaches. The condemned man speaks fromj 
below to his daughter in the balcony. He declares his innocence.! 
Now good Vidocq, to the rescue. Display all your arts, oonviot the} 
guilty, disguised Marguis, and save the estimable Lebrun ! But* 
Vidocq looks on impassive, a dull thud is heard and the head of the' 
innocent rolls into the basket. Immediately afterwards Yvrier* 
staggers in. Too late, he says, he has been convinced of Lebrun f s 
innocence. At the last moment Lebrun looked at him with eves in 
which there was no trace of guijlt. That last look did it, and now 
Yvrier in a passion of repentance offers himself to help Vidocq, even- 
in the most subordinate capacity, to track down the guilty, and to 
remove the stain from Leorun's name. I pass over the padding, 
during which Vidoca appears, for no earthly reason, in numerous dis- 
guises, and come to the last scene. Roland has all but killed George* 
MazeroUes in a duel, he has murdered Sabine, who, before dying,' 
rounds on him, and he is now, by a strange conjunction of circum- 
stances, in the very room in which he murdered Madame MazeroUes. 
Thither also comes everybody else. Vidocq. who is tracking Roland, 
discovers, through a paper belonging to the late Madame MazeroUes, 
that Roland, her muraerer, washer son, not her step-son, and that he, 
Vidocq, is the father of Roland, In his youth VidocahaA been a soldier. 
Somewhere he had met Madame MazeroUes. . " Nous nous sommest 
aimSs entre deux batailles, entre deux victoires," and Roland was the 1 
fruit of their love. Horror of horrors ! What is he to do ? First he : 
tells Roland that he killed, not his step-mother, but his mother. At 
this awful intelligence. Roland faints in an armchair for precisely ten, 
seconds. Recovering himself, he is fain to escape. Vidocq, all his 
fatherly instincts aroused, says he shall. The weak Yvrier consents* 
when suddenly, from behind a curtain, appears H6lene Lebrun^ in 
black. The murderer of her father must not escape, she declares,' 
whereupon the ^reat detective, vowing that his son shall never be, 
food for the guillotine, shoots him dead with a toy pistol in the; 
region of the left waistooat pocket. Tableau! Curtain! 

There, Mr. Punch, you have the French Sherlock on the stage. 
A wonderful man, is he not ? Yours, as always, A Vagrant. 


(By a Western Wonderer.) 

All in the East seems so dawdling and queer I 
Bogus engagements, and battles pour rire, 
Militant meetings— where nobody meets- 
Ghostly armies and phantom fleets ; 
44 Terrible slaughter™— with never a blow, 
Corpse-choked rivers that maps do not show ; 
Wild contradiction and vagueness extreme, 
Faith, it all reads like some Flowery Land dream, 
Arabian-nightish, and opium-bred, 
Japanese-spookisn, delirium-fed. 
Wild, wiUow-patternish ; .sort of a " War" 
Johnny might paint on a blue ginger-jar. 
Wonder how long such a queer war will wag on ? 
No one can tell— when 'tis Dragon v. Dragon ! 

I am glad to see the ** Bystander" in the Graphic has recently 
uttered a startled protest against the fashion, now somewhat over- 
done, and occasionally objectionably done, of lady-begging for 
charitable purposes in the London streets. On the sudden apparition 
of one of these merry half-sisters of charity (were not the Pecksnifllan 
daughters Charity and Merry?) Mr. v Ashby Sterry became well- 
nigh hysterrycal. and his generosity-being temporarily paralysed, 
he fled, with pockets tightly buttoned." "For the moment ne was no 
longer the "Bystander," whose motto is that of Captain Cuttle. 
" Stand by," but, as though he had heard the command to " Stand 
and deliver," our sturdy " Bystander" became a .fugitive from 
before the face of the giddy charity $irl,-and thus at one a go " saved 
his halfpence and his honour. For his reputation would have suffered 
had he impolitely rebuffed bis fair unfair assailant. He did well to 
flee, he did still better to write and publicly complain. We trust that 
tMaprooess adopted by the Sterry O'Type (a fine old Irish titie by the 
way) may have its due influence, and that the abuse, which has 
become thus Sterry O'typed, of a fashion good in itself and its origin, 
may soon cease to exist. En attendant, Mr. 'Punch is pleased to 
know tha the M B*BTAJr»ER" is still running Tra, and not likely to 
come to a standstill. VjQO> \ 



[Skptbmbbb 22, 1894. 


Omw. " Tbxbb, my Funs, I bavb arrtx you a Ooumr Habvbct this Ybab I " 

Jbrnwr. " It'< vbbt.xihd or you, ILlbm ; but 'taib't much good it I oak't or Gold fob it I " 

■- . ni iti7PHhyV.lQOglP 

Ssptbmbu 22, 1894.] 




Drab, Mr. Pc7NCH,— Will you afford 
me a small portion of your space to put 
on record onoe and for ever a most extra- 
ordinary coincidence ? Last Wednesday 
afternoon I was taking a country walk, 
when all at onoe my eve was suddenly 
caught by a throstle. At the same time 
I accidentally looked at my watch. It 
had stopped at 12.10. When I got home 
I mentioned both of these circumstances 
to my wife. 

Later in the evening I bought an even- 
ing paper, and was amazed to find that 
the St. Lejrer had been won by Throstle 
(the bird Ihad seen), whioh had started 
at 50 to 1 (the exact minute at which 
my watch had stopped) ! Could the force 
of coincidence farther go P The Society 
of Psychical Research and Mr. Stead 
are welcome to this incident. The only 
thing which troubles me at all is that 
the evidence (other than my own) is a 
little slender. Mv wife is deaf, and 
never heard what I told her. The bird 
has flown. My watch is going again. 
I inclose my card, and am, 
Yours Stead-t to a degree, 

Ohe who Wow Noranra on 
tub Race. 

Mr. Punch on Peeler Piper. 

["I with/' said Mr. Lake, the North 
London magistrate, '* to express my sense of 
the very great courage and resolution ex- 
hibited by Constable Piper in this case, 
under circumstances of considerable pressure, 
danger, and exhaustion.*' — Timet* Alice Re- 
port, Sept. 12.] 

Peeler Piper prov*d his pluoky pecker. 
Aa Peeler Piper proVd his plucky pecker, 
Where 's there pluckier pecker 
Than Peeler Piper's proved ? 

Probable Akfoun cement.— New 
Book : — A Mischievous Medlar. By 
Leslie Keith, the fruitful Author of 
A Troublesome Pair. 



i suppose?" 

"Certainly not. Be Natural, whatever you 


(8ee " Indignant** " Letter in " Westminster 

We onoe had a Common at Mitcham, 
Where boys would bring wickets and 
pitch 'em, 

That devouring: wolf 
The fanatic of golf 
Established a club, 
And— aye, there's the rub !— 
The Conservators sacrificed needs of the 
-lio on purpose to help and enrich 'em ! 
The Common they soon will be shutting. 
In the interests of driving and " putt- 
The balls fly about and hit kids in the 

And frighten old fogies, and make 

horses shy. 
The publio's "wired" out while the 

golfers " wire in." 
They have got lots of brass, but they 

pay little tin. 
They drive sheep and cattle, and boys in 
their teens. 

And nursemaids and prams off their 
Mthering " Greens. 
Oh, Punch, can't you pitch in, and 

pitch 'em, 
These bores, off our Common at Mit- 

Authority here at Monopoly winks, 
But I am an old Mitoham-lover who 

That the Links on our Common should 

be Missing links ! 

Question and Answer. 

Ingoldsby's Question. 
" Tiger Tim, come tell me true, 
What may a nobleman find to do P " 

Modern Idiot's Answer. 
Squeak out the " chestnut" (As '11 well 

know which !) 
" I can't afford it; I'm far too rich ! " 


A very Un-Viroilian Pastoral Eclogue. 

Interlocutors--- Ceres and a Northern Farmer, newest style. 

[" In i*ereral instances last week the prices for new wheat were quoted at 
16*. to 19f. per quarter in Lincolnshire and Yorkshire, and the general 
arerage for the whole country last week was actually only 27*. la. It is 
orer two hundred yean since anything like so low a price has been quoted 
fur wheat in England."— Westmtmter Gazette.] 

Farmer (throwing down newspaper). 

DuBBirrloookatthewaastel FoinefealdsP A' dear! a' dear I 
'Tian't worth nowt a haacre ; 'tis worse than it wur laast year ! 

Ceres (entering). 
Good evening, Farmer, my friend ! I think yon will own this time 
I have sent you a golden harvest. I never saw wheat more prime ! 

And who ma* yew bea, Mann ? And what dost tha mean, Mann— 

I weant say tha he a loiar, hut tha say'st what 's nawways trne. 

Why, I am the farmer's friend, the goddess of farms and fields. 
At my look the furrows spring, and my laugh the harvest j ields. 

Then wheer' asta bean saw long, leaven me a-liggin* aloan ? 

Friend ? Thoort nowt 0' a friend, leavin' mea to groomhle and 

Why, what is the matter now? You've a hamper harvest, 

men say. 
The wheat and the barley show fair, and likewise the oats and 
the hay 1 

Thee be the goddess 0' f ealds P Oh, a prutty goddess tha heast ! 
Seems to mea tha knaws nowt, and tha beant na use, not the least. 
Naw soort o' koind 0' use to saay the things that ya do ! 
Goddess P My owd lass Bess wur a better goddess than yew ! 
Sartin-sewer I he if 'tis thea and thet Clerk o' the Weather 
Arranges the craps and things, ye 're a pair 0' toattlers together ! 

That i« ungrateful, Farmer ! Just glance at those golden sheaves ! 
Phoebus and I have done it, yet who in our love behoves P 

Luw it ma bea, but I reckons tha 'st hoath 0' tha mooch to lam. 
Whut good o' a full-sheaved f eald, whut good 0' a full-choked birn, 
If markets beant no better, hut woorse— as the chap saays here— 
Than they have bean in Owd England fur well-neigh two oonderd year P 

I am not the goddess of markets ! 


Naw, naw ! Thou 'rt a useless jade. 
Whut use 0' taturs, and turmuts and wheat, if tha ain't gut trade P 
Whoy, your weather hallus oooms 0' the sort as we doant desire ; 
If we want sun ya send water, and if we want water 'tis fire. 
Then they Parlyment fellers tret us a-lettin' they furrineers in. 
We take no koind 0' care of ourssens, and tha furrineers win ; 
And if tha weather be bad, whoy we han't naw craps at all. 
And if tha weather he fair, whoy the market proioes fall. 
And tha calls thaself a goddess, and the British farmer's friend ! 
And we're goin'from woorse to*oost, and a aask tha, wheer will it end P 

Ceres {sadly). 
Well, I've sent you a golden harvest, good friend, though your 
greeting 'scold. 

Farmer (furiously). 
Wheer f s the good o" a golden harvest if I carina change it for gold 




[September 22, 1894. 


(A Story in Scenes.) 


Scene XXI.— The Housekeeper's Room at Wyvern ; Mrs. Pompret, 
the Housekeeper, in a black silk gown and hei- smartest cap, is 
seated in a winged arm-chair by the fire, discussing domestic 
politics with Lady Culverin's maid, Miss Stickler. The Chef, 
M. Ridevos, m resting on the sofa, in languid converse with Mile. 
Chiffon, Miss Spelwane's maid; Piluner's man, Lotjch, 
, watches Steptoe, Sir Rupert's valet, with admiring envy, as he 
"*' makes himself agreeable to Miss tPhillipson, who is in demi- 
toilette, as are all the other 'ladies' maids present 

Miss Stickler (in an impressive undertone). All I do say, Mrs. 
Pomfret, ma'am, is this: if that girl Louisa marches into the pew 
to-morrow, as she did last Sunday, before the second laundry maid— 
and her only under-soullery maid— such presumptiousness should be 
put a stop to in future ! 

Mrs. Pomfret (wheezily). Depend upon it, my dear, it's her 
ignorance; but! shall most 
certainly speak about it. 
€firls» must? be taught that 
ranks was made to be re- 
spected; 1 and the precedency 
into that pew has oome down 
from time immemoriable, 
and is not to be set aside by 
such as her while I 'm 'ouse- 

Mile. Chiffon (in French, 
to M. Ridevos). You have 
the air fatigued, my poor 
friend! Oh, there — but 
fatigued ! 

M. Rider os. Broken, 
Mademoiselle, absolutely 
broken. But what will 
you? This night I surpass 
myself. I achieve a mas- 
terpiece — a sublime pyramid 
of quails with a sauce that 
will become classic I pay 
now the penalty of a veri- 
table crisis of nerves. It is 
of my temperament as artist. 

Mile. Chiffon. And me, 
my poor friend, how I have 
suffered from the cookery of 
these others— I who have 
the stomach so feeble, so fas- 
tidious ! Figure to yourself 
an, existence upon the vil- 
lainous curry, the abomin- 
able "Iahristue," beloved 
by these barbarians, but 
which suoceed with me not 

at all — oh, but not at all ! Since I am here— ah, the difference ! I 
digest as of old— I am gay. But next week to return with Made- 
moiselle to the curry, my i»or friend, what regrets^! 

M. Rid. For me, dear Mademoiselle, for me the regrets— to hear 
no more the conversation, so spiritual, so sympathetic, of a fellow- 
countrywoman. For remark that here they are stupid— they com- 
prehend not. And the old ones they roll at me the eyes to make 
terror. Behold this Gorgon who approaches. She adores me, my 
word of honour, this ruin ! 

[Miss Stickler comes up to the sofa smiling in happy uncon- 


here of your having known me at Mrs. Dickenson's. I couldn't 

afford to nave it get about in the circle I 'm in that I'd ever lived 

with any but the nobility. I'm sure you see what I mean. Of 

course I don't mind your saying we ' ve met. 
PhiU. Oh, I auite understand. I '11 say nothing. I'm obliged to 

be careful myself, being maid to Lady M aisle Mull. 
Miss Dolm. My dear Emma ! It is nice seeing you again— such 

friends as we used to be ! 

PhiU. At her Grace's ? I 'm afraid you're thinking of somebody 

else. (She crosses to Mrs. Pomfret.) Mrs. Pomfret, what's 

become of the gentleman I travelled down with— the horse doctor? 

I do hope he means to come in ; he would amuse you, Mr. Steptoe. 

I never heard anybody go on like him ; he did make me laugh so ! 
Mrs. Pomfr. I really can't say where he is, my dear. I sent up 

word to let him know he was welcome here whenever he pleased ; 

but perhaps he's feeling a little shy about coming down. 
PhiU. Oh, I don't think he suffers much from that. (As the door 

opens.) Ah, there he is ! 
Mrs. Pomfr. (rising, with dignity, to receive Undershell, who 

enters in obvious embarrassment). Come in, Sir. I'm glad to see 

you 've found your way 
down at last. Let me see. 
I haven't the advantage of 
knowing your— Mr. Under- 
shell. to be sure! Well, 
Mr. Undershell, we 're 
very pleased to see you. I 
hope you'll make yourself 
quite at home. Her lady- 
ship gave particular direc- 
tions that we was to look 
after you— most particular 
she was! 

Undershell. You are very 
good, Ma'am. I am obliged 
to Lady Culverin for her 
(toith a gulp) condescension 
But 1 t>hall not trespass 
more than a short time upon 
your hosi itality. 

Mrs. Pomfr. Don't speak 
of it as trespassing, Sir. 
It's not often we have a 
gent 1< man of your profes- 
sion as a visitor, but you 
are none the less welcome. 
Now I 'd better introduce 
you all round, and then you 
won't feel yourself a stran- 
ger. Miss Phillipson you 
have met, I know. 
[She introduces him to the 
others in turn; Under- 
shell bows helplessly. 
Steptoe (with urbanity). 
Your fame, Sir, has pre- 
ceded you. And you '11 find 

Miss Stick, (graciously). So you've felt equal to joining us for onoe, 
Mossoo! We feel it a very.'igh compliment, I can assure you. 
We've really been feeling quite r urt at the way you keep to yourself 
—you might be a regular 'ermit for all we see of you ! 

M. Rid. For invent, dear Mees, for create, ze arteeste must live ze 
solitaire as of rule. To-night- no! I emairge, as you see, to 
res-tore myself viz your smile. 

Miss Stick, (flattered). Well. I've always said, Mossoo, and 
I always will say, that for polite 'abits and pretty speeches, give me 
a Frenchman ! 

M. Rid. (alarmed). For me it is too mooh 'appiness. For anozzer, 
ah ! [ He kisses his fingers with ineffable grace. 

PhUUpson (advancing to meet Miss Dolman, who has just entered). 
Why, I'd no idea I should meet you here. Sarah ! And how have 
you been getting on* dear? Still with^-— ? 

Miss Dolman (checking her with a look). Her grace? No, we 
parted some time ago. I 'm with Lady Rhoda Cokatne at present. 
{In an undertone^ as she takes her -aside.) You needn't say anything 

" Broken, Mademoiselle, absolutely broken.", 

us'a veiy friendly and jcongenial^little circle on a better acquaint- 
ance— if this is your first experience of this particular form of 
society ? 

JJnd. (to himself). I mustn't be stiff, I'll put them at their ease. 
(Aloud.) Why, I must admit, Mr. SrEPTOE, that I have never before 
had the privilege of entering the— (with an ingratiating smile all 
round him) the "Pugs' Parlour," as I understand you call this 
very charming room. 

[The company draw themselves up and cough in disapprobatum. 

Slept, (very stiffly). Pardon me, Sir, you have been totally mis- 
informed. Such an expression is not current here. 

Mrs. Pomfr. (more stiffly still). It is never alluded to in my 
presence except as the 'Ousekeeper's Room, which is the right and 
proper name for it. There may be some other term for it in the 
Servants' 'All for anything J know to the contrary— but if you'll 
excuse me for saying so, Mr. Undershell, we 'd prefer for it not to 
be repeated in our presence. 

Und. (confusedly). I— I beg ten thousand pardons. (To himself.) 
To be. pulled up like this for trying to be genial— it's really too 
humiliating ! 

Slept, (relaxing). Well, well. Sir; we must make some allowances 
for a neophyte. You '11 know better another time, I daresay. Miss 
Phillipson here has been giving you a very favourable character as 
a highly agreeable rattle, Mr. Undershell. I hope we may 
be favoured with a specimen of your social talents later on. We re 
always grateful here for anything in that way— suoh as a reeitatiqn 
now, or a oomio song, or a yumorous imitation— anything, in short, 
calculated to promote the genera) harmony and festivity will be 

Digitized by VjiOOv LC , 

September 22, 1894.] 



_ Miss (Stick, acidly). Provided it is free from any helement of 
coarseness, which wejdo not encourage— far from it ! 

Und. (suppressing his irritation). You need be under no alarm, 
Madam. I do not propose to attempt a performance of any kind. 

Phill. Don't be so solemn, Mr. Ukdekshell! I 'm sure you can 
be as comical as any playactor when you choose ! 
:* Und. I really don't know how I can have given you that impres- 
sion. If you expect me to treat my lyre like a horse-collar, andgrin 
through it, I 'm afraid I am unable to gratify you. 

Stent, (at sea). Capital, Sir, the professional allusion very neat. 
You '11 oome out presently, /can see, when supper's on the table. 
Can't expect you to rattle till you 've something inside of you, can we P 

Miss Stick. Reelly, Mr. Stkptoe, I am surprised at such common- 
ness from you ! 

Slept. Now you 're too severe. Miss Stickler, you are indeed. An 
innocent little Judy Mow like that ! 

Tredwell (outside). Don't answer me % Sir. Ham I butler 'ere. or 
ham Inotf I 've a precious good mind to report you for suoh a 
hignorant blunder. ... I don't want to hear another word about the 
gentleman's does— you 'd no hearthiy business for to do such a thing 
at all ! (He enters and flings himself down on a chair.) That Thomas 
is beyond everything — stoopid hass as he is ! 

Mrs. Pomfr. (concerned). La, Mr. Tredwell, you do seem put 
out ! Whatever have Thomas been doing now ? 

Und. (to hims*(f). It's really very good of him to take it to heart 
like this! (Aloud.) Pray don't let it distress you; it's of no 
consequence, none at all ! 

Tred. (glaring). I 'm the best judge of that, Mr. Undershell, Sir 
— if you'll allow me ; /don't call my porogatives of no consequence, 
whatever you mav ! And that feller Thomas, Mrs. Pomfrbt. 
actially 'ad the hordacity, without consulting me previous, to go and 
'and a note to one of our gentlemen at the hupstairs table, all about 
some hassinine mistake he 'd made with his does ! What call had 
he to take it upon himself? I feel puffeely disgraced that such a 
thing should have occurred under my authority ! 

[ The Steward's Room Boy has entered with a dish, and listens 
with secret anxiety on his own account. ' 

Und. I assure you there is no harm done. The gentleman, is 

wearing my evening clothes— but he 's going to return them 

[The conclusion of the sentence is drowned in a roar of laughter 
from the majority. 

Tred. (gasping). Hevemn' does ! Four hevenin> P'raps you '11 

'ave the goodness to explain yourself, Sir ! 

Stept. No, no, Tredwell, my dear fellah, you don't understand 
our friend here— he's a bit of a wag, don't you see? He's only 
trying to pull your leg, that 's all ; and, Gad, he did it too ! But 
you mustn't take liberties with this gentleman. Mr. Undershell, 
he's an important personage here, I can tell you I 

Und. (earnestly). But I never meant— if you'll only let me 


[The Boy ha* come behind him, and administers a surreptitious 
kick, which Undershell rightly construes as a hint to hold 
his tongue. 

Tred. (in solemn offence). I 'm accustomed, Mr. Hukdershell, to 
h* treated in this room with respect and deference— especially by 
them as come here in the capacity of Guests. From such I regard 
anv attempt to pull my leg as in hindifferent taste— to # say the least 
of it. I wish to 'ave no more words on the subjick. whioh is a gain- 
ful one, and had better be dropped, for the sake of all parties. 
Mrs. Pomfret, I see supper iB on the table, so, by your leave, we 
had better set down to it. 

Phill. (to Undershell). Never mind htm, pompous old thing! 
It was awfully cheeky of you, though. You can sit next me if 
you like. 

Und. (to himself, as he avails himself of this permission). I shall 
only make things worse if I explain now. But, oh, great Heavens, 
what a position for a P oet 


Art was once denned as " the creation of new forms of beauty." 
Our juvenile geniuses have altered all that. "The New Art" is 
better defined as "the creation of novel forms of ugliness." Its 
inspiration is Corruption, its auxiliaries are the two hideous imps, 
Scratch and Smudge. Old Art, with its bosh about beauty, its rot 
about romance, its fudge about finish, its tweddle about taste, will 
be good enough to take a back seat. Apollo the Inspirer must give 
way to the sooty imp and inoubus, New Scratch ! — 
Raphael ? Ideal Beauty spoiled his Art ! 

Rembrandt ? Of light and shade he was bo judge ■-. 
The Hideous now must play the leading part, 
Chiaroscuro yield to Shapeless Smudge -.-, ^ 

Again he urges on his wild Korea." — Mateppa. 


[" In my time at Eton it was the custom with one's tutor to supply us 
with what was disrespectfully called * nonsenw ' material for some suggested 
theme."— James Pay*, in " Our Note- Book" in " The Illustrated London 

Will you follow where the Bandiooots inevitably stray. 
As they amorously hurtle through the stubble and the hay ; 
Where the Jebusites and AmoriteS are gathered in a bunch, 
While they watch the duck-billed Platypus preparing for his lunch ? 

Where the toothsome Triohinopli keeps turning on the spit — 
Oh my dove-like Triohinonoli, how hard you are to hit ! 
There is something so elusive and dosser ting in your shape, 
That I had to shoot you sitting and to load my gun with grape. 

Though the Mandrake give you goose- 
skin by its inharmonious snriek, 

And a tug of war oome thenning after 
Greek has met with Greek; 

I will stay at home and see the giddy 
milkman till his pail 

For an orchestra of Clepsydras con- 
ducted by a Snail. 

And it *8 oh to be a Manatee— I think 

I shall be soon — 
Riding coffee-coloured Dolphins on 

the snaffle (or bridoon). 
With his Barnacles and Biffin-boys 

belaying in the sea. 
He has always eggs at breakfast, has the merry Manatee. 

Can you see me then subsiding very stately very sly, 
Like a soluble quadratio which has lost its x and y. 
Getting out my rusty rapier and dissecting with a lunge 
All the daffodils and daisies that I grow upon my sponge ? 

Can you* see me on a tram-car, while I stand upon my head, 
Shredding otit the scarlet runners which no publisher has read, 
In a horse-case predetermined by a puisne- judge alone. 
Who is tired of seeing juries with a rider of their own r 

If the dactyls and the spondees should eventually pall. 
You can call on Miss Caesura and conduct her to a ball. 
Ton can feed the pirl On trochees, and of course you can propose, 
If hexameters delight you when recited through the nose. 

Happy days, how soon ye falter ; can a Bachelor have bliss ? 
Can a contrapuntal Bulbul woo her lover with a kiss P 
Can a Scotsman get protection for his philibeg and trews 
By diotating hall a column to the Illustrated News f 

Can a Bumble-bee be eheerful if related to a Mouse 
Whioh has left its cheesy larder and been captured by a Grouse ? . 
Can a man-of-war be manly, can a gum-boil stick like glue ? 
Can accounts be cooked with " stumors," and converted into stew F 

Nay. I fly from all these problems; I am fortunately deaf 
To the fascinating music of the careful Q,. E. F., 
Nor can theorems allure me, never, never will I be 
Mathematically married to a vulgar Q. E. D. 

! l ' ' ' 

But at home I '11 sit and linger by the soft September fire, 
While 1 toast my feet land rack them by particular desire. 
And I '11 illustrate my! meaning (penny coloured, twopence plats > ' 
Drawing gaily on the f 4 Note Book" of my old friend Jimmy- Pain. 

Mad as a Hatter.— The Drapery World says that " the New 
Woman's hat" is much like the Ordinary Man s "topper," only a 
little smaller, and a little more cheeky. The phrase might fitly be 
transferred to the "New Woman" herself. She looks so much 
like an ordinary man, only a little smaller and a little more oheeky. 
By the way. is there much difference between "the New Woman's 
hat" and the woman's new hat? The query would make a good 
one for a French Exe rcise Book. 

r ■ " : 

Wheel and Whoa ! 

The popular wheel, so the French doctors say, 
- Is the worst enemy of the popular weal. 

Academies of science rcaroe will stay 

The devastations of the steed of stetl. 
The scorcher will deride as a bad joke 
. * Attempts in his wild wheel to put a spoke 


Instrument for aw Anti-Birmingham Band.— The Ban-Joe. 




[September 22, 1894. 


Dorothy. "I wokdeb why Men take theie Hats oef in Chtjbch, and Women don't I " 

Michael. "Oh, Do both t, just think op all the Lookino-slassbs there 'd have to be is every Pew t ' 


[" Immediately after the death of hit father, the 
Duke of Orleans addressed the following tele- 
gram to all the Sovereign Princes of Europe : — 

•A sa Majbst*, &c.— J*ai la douleur de faire 
part A Votre Majeste* de la mort de mon nere 
Philippe, Comte- de Paris, pieusement dlceae* a 
Stowe Howe le huit Septembre.- Philippe.' 

Great significance is attached to the fact that 
the Duke signs himself with repal simplicity 
'Philippe.' His father under similar circum- 
stances, on the occasion of the death of the Comte 
de Cham b or d, signed 'Phillips, Comte de Paris,' 
thus ignoring his Sovereign rank." — The Daily 

Madame la RSpubhque museth: — 

Ah! "Vive la France!" If words were only 
I might perchance secure a new defender. 
As Amubath to Akubath succeeds. 

E'en so succeeds Pretender to Pretender. 
Aye . " plus ca change plus e'est la meme 

chose!" All 
Fancy their words 'the writing on the 

Street oorner scrawls are not the script *»f fate. 
Plok-Plok and le brav' Qenera\ Cham- 
BOKDj Pajus, 
All chalked my walls ; " devotion to the 
State" [carry, 

Inspired their schemes predestined to mis- 
But Boubbox, Bonapartist or what not, 
Self ever seemed the centre of the plot. 

As "Roides Francois " or as"" Monsieur X.," 
Boulawgeb's hacker, or the White Flag- 
What has availed their valour save to vex P 
Frenchmen and soldiers P Doubtless, Sirs ; 
few braver. 
Bat plots and manifestoes wild and windy 
Contribute little to the State— save shindy! 

EhP Right Divine ? That old, old weapon 
still [me. 

Pretenders fain would furbish np to fright 
Would I bear weary strife, or bow my will 
To human wrong if " Eight Divine" could 
right roe ? 
No ; right divine to rule roust prove affinity, 
To the divine ere /trust its divinity. 

" Philippe !" Ah! boldly written ! You 

Its flowing form, the freedom of its flourish. 
And " Vive la France!" To what may you 

What is the scope. Sir, of the hopes you 

nourish P [writing, 

Your sire "ignored his Sovereign rank"— in 
But Philippe — Roi— de humph !— that 

might mean lighting. 

Chalk, youngster ! Purpose scribbled on the 

Not graven in the rook with pen of iron, 
Affrights not the Republic. It may fall 

Amidst the perils that its path environ, 
But scarce to summons of the bravest boys, 
Or, like old Jericho, to the power of noise. 

Yes; "the Pretender's dead," and who will 
now fthrongs, 

Cry " Long live the— Pretender " f Courtly 
Crafty intriguers, may parade and bow, 
But for the People P Will they deem their 
like to be oured by the old royal line, 
Or righted by the rule of Bight Divine P . 

What will you do— save scribble an 1 orate ? 
Were you indeed— ah, me!— that strong 
man armed 
For whom so long I ' ve waited, and still wait ? 
Then, then, perohanoe. I might — who 
knows ?— be charmed 
To lily-girt Legitimist ways of yore. 
At present 'tis but— one Pretender more ! 


(By an AbserU-minied Sportsman.) 

Well, I 'm blest, I 'm pretty nearly 

Speechless, as I 
watch that'bird, 
Saving that I mutter 
One concise, em 
phatic word— 
What that i«. may 
be inferred ! 

English prose is, to 
my sorrow. 
Insufficient for the 
Would that I could 
freelv borrow 
Expletives from Welsh or Basque- 
One or two is all I ask ! 

Failing that, let so-called verses 

Serve to mitigate my grief 
Doggerel now and then disperses 

Agonies that need relief. 

(Missing birds of these is chief !) 

Blanklv tramping o'er the stubbles 
Is a bore, to put it mild ; 

But, in short, to orown my troubles, 
One mishap has made me riled, 
Driv'n me, like the coveys, wild 

For at last I flush a partridge. 

Ten yards rise, an easy pot ! 
Click! Why, bless me, where 'sj the 
cartridge P 

Hang it ! there, I clean forgot 

Putting them in ere I shot ! 

Queby.— Would an ideal barrister be a 
counsel of perfection P 

PUNCH, OB THE LONDON CHARIVARI.- September 22, 1894. 






Madame a Repubkque. " WHAT WILL YOU 1)0— SAVE SCRIBBLE AND ORATE ? 


Digitized by 


Sbptbmbbb 22, 1894.] 




Or, the March of Civilisation. 

About the merry Mandarin 
His fatal gift for humour, 

I find it passing hard to pin 
My faith to every rumour. 

This war, for instance. J^ancy shuts 
Both eyes and vainly labours 

To grasp the news that he is nuts 
On blowing up his neighbours. 

If so, he threatens to deface, 

Beyond all recognition, 
His right of kinship with a race 

Whose excellent tradition, 

Oldest of old traditions, has 
Time out of mind begun by 

This rule :— Do not to others as 
You 'd rather not be done by. 

Ignoring now the ancient bards, 

He must have emulated 
The doctrine which A h Sin at cards 

So darkly demonstrated, 

When, flush of duplicate supplit s, 
Well up his sleeves he slid 'em— 

Do those whom you will otherwise 
Be done by .—and he did 'em. 

Observe this sad example of 

Imported Western culture ! 
Symbol of peace, the sucking -dove 
Knock* under to the vulture ; 

And prophets of a prior age 
Might fairly be as'oundtd 

To tind the system of the sage 
Confucius worie onfuunded ! 

{By a Disgustc I Backer. ) 

Lao as, Ladas, 

Go along with you, do. 
I 'm now stone-broke, 

All on account of you. 
It wasn't a lucky Leger, 
And I wish I 'd been a hedger, 
Though you did look sweet, 

Before defeat 

But I *ve thoroughly done 
with you ! 

Scientific Gossip.— In spite of the 
great number of bathers at all our 
most frequented sea-side resorts there 
has been no appreciable diminution 
in either the quality or quantity of 
the sea-water. 




'Twas almost dusk ; the galleries 

Lay silent and deserted 
Wherehappy knots of twos and threes 

Had wondered, talked, and flirted ; 
Where, armed with buns and cata- 

The country-bred relations 
Had criticised, appraised, despised 

The art of many nations. 

No more the rigid censor viewed 

With hearty disapproval 
Athenian statues in the nude, 

Demanding their removal ; 
No more the cultured connoisseur, 

Whom nothing new amazes, 
The very old designs extolled 

In very modern phrases. 

Yet two remained ; a youth and maid 

Still lingered in the section 
WhereEgypt's treasures lie displayed 

For popular inspection ; 
They talked in whispers, and although 

Tne subject dear to some is, 
They did not seem to take as theme 

The obelisks and mummies. 

An Art more ancient far, one thinks, 

Was that they talked of lightly, 
Compared vith which the hoary 

Seems juvenile and sprightly ; 
Young as the very latest tale, 

Old as the oldest stories, 
It kept them there, this happy pair, 

That Art— the ars amorts / 

The mummies round them seemed to 

Ah, long ago, one fancies, 
Those withered faces by the Nile 

Had known their own romances. 
The old-world gods have passed away, 

Osiris lies forsaken, 
But Love alone retains his throne 

Unquestioned and unshaken ! 

Lex Tauonis.— Mr. Lang, turned 
speculative law-giver, suggests that 
we should tax literature. Well, 
that's only quid (or so much in the 
44 quid ") pro quo ; seeing how litera- 
ture (lots of it) taxes us. A high 
rate on literary rubbish would yield 
" pretty pickings," especially it the 
producers thereof were allowed to 
u rate " each other ! In this age of 
sloppiness, sniff and snippets there is 
a lot of " literature " which should be 
tariffed off the face of the earth. 


What matter titles ? Helmholtz is a name 
That challenges, alone, the award of Fame ! 
When Emperors, Kings, Pretenders, shadows 

Leave not a dust-trace on our whirling ball, 
Thy work, oh grave-eyed searcher, shall 

Unmarred by faction, from low passion 

pure. [mind 

To bridge the gulf 'twixt matter- veu and 
Perchance to mortals, dull-sensed, slow, 

Is not permitted — yet ; but patient, keen, 
Thou on the shadowy track beyond the Seen, 
Didst doff the elusive truth, and seek in 

The secret of soul- mysteries profound. 
Essential Order, Beauty's hidden few ! 
Marvels to strike more sluggish souls with 
«.- awe, 

Great seekers, lonely-souled, explore that 

We welcome the wild wonders they bring 

From ventures stranger than an earthly Pole 
Can furnish. Distant still that mental goal 
To which great spirits strain ; but when 

calm Fame [name 

Sums its bold seekers, Helmholtz, thy great 
Among the foremost shall eternal stand, 
Science's pride, and glory of thy land. 

44 My dear," said Mrs. R., " I had to dis- 
charge my gardener, for when I questioned 
him about the sale of the vegetables his 
answers were far too amphibious." 

Uxhappy Thought by ax Invalid. — 
What a dreadful thing: to become the Per- 
manent Head of a Department with a Per- 
manent Headache ! 


On being asked to play Croquet, A.D. 1894. 

I [" It is impossible to visit any part of the country 
I without realising the fact that the long- discredited 

game of Croquet is fast ooming into rogue again. 

. . . This is partly owing to the abolition of ' tight 

croqueting.' "—fall Mall Gazette.] 

Eh? What? Why? How? 
Are we back in the Sixties again ? 
I am rubbing my eyes— is it then, or now ? 
I'ma Sip van Winkle, it 's plain ! 

Hoop, Ball, Stick, Cage ? 
Eh, fetch them all out once more ? 
Why, look, they 're begrimed and cracked 
with age, 
And their plaj ing days are o'er ! 

Well— ^es— here goe6 
For a primitive chaste delight ! 
Let us soberly, solemnly beat our foes, 
For Croquet *s no longer " tight " ! 




[Sbptembbb 22, 1894. 


"If any of you know 

Cause or impediment," — 
Cause I I thould think I do, 

That girl to wed I meant ! 
She made me drink the eup 
Of woe, well-thaken up 

With bitter sediment. 

If I forbid the banns 

With visage pallid, 
Ere she's another man's, 

And I have rallied. 
Because in bygone days 

With me she dallied, 
Would my forbidding phrase 

Be counted valid P 

Because her eves would shine 

Once when I praised her, 
Because her heart to mine, 

When I upraised her 
From the low garden chair, 
Beat for a moment's space 
With sudden, yielding grace 
While I just kiss'd her hair, 

Which nought amazed her ; 
Soothed her with loving touch, 
I/wing, but not too much, 
When on her little hand 
The buckle of her band 

Had lightly grazed her P 

(Rlowly our souls between 
Mists <»f reserve crept in — 

I reck'd not, blindly— 
A lister she became, 
chill and veal-like name ! 
A great deal less than kin, 

Much less than kindly. 

Then on the old sweet ways 
Of thoughtless, chummy days, 

Turning severely. 
Pride, hooded in dislike, 
St r nek as a snake might strike, 
And, in the public gaze, 

Froze me austerely. 


Genial Master (under the painful necessity of discharging his Coach- 
man). "I'm afraid, Simmons, we must pari 1 . The fact is, I 
cofldn't help noticing that several times during the last 
Month you have been — Sobkr ; and I don't believe a Man can 
attend properly to the Drink if he has Driving to do 1 " 

Well, all is vanity ; 
She '11 disillusioned be, 
And I— well, as for me, 

When these confusions 
Clear from my brain away, 
Back in mv thoughts I '11 stray 
Where sunbeams ever play 

On lost illusions. 


'Aery, 'Aery Smith be Smith, 
As wheelman you would win 
You are the country districts' pest, 
You are the nuisance of the 
Ycu 're wan and wild and dust- 
You think you 're awfully ad- 
Though winner of a hundred 
Your fame is not to be desired. 

Arry, 'Aery Smith db Smith, 
You whirl and whisk about the 
With shoulders bowed, with low- 
ered pate, 
And dull eyes fixed upon your 
Oli I take some interest in the 
Love birds that sing and flowers 
that blow; 
Try not to be a mere machine, 
And let the record-squelcher go ! 

A little less than M'Kinley, 
but more than Unkind.— Presi- 
dent Cleveland has had to allow 
the Gorman Act to become law 
without formally assenting to it. 
He has had, in faot to swallow 
what he would fain reject, an act 
of involuntary political Gorman- 
dising which must be unpleasant. 


(A Symposium a la Mode,) 
t T*!,e Author of I am much flattered by your kind invi- 

" A Saddw Aster" tation to di«cuss the Advanced Woman, but 
confesses. ^ iaitia.1 difficulty suggests itself to me. 

Can one disousi the Advanced Woman if this Advanced Woman her- 
self is non-existent P I am aware, of course, that 

she has stridden large of late in the pages of femi- 
nine fiction, bat is she not as extinct (before she 

has ever existed) as her Dodo title ? Let me make 

my own confession. I have used, if I did not 

invent, the A. W. I have secured a remunerative 

public Once on a time I wrote of life as I found 

it. I used ray eyes and ears, and endeavoured to 

let the world nave the result in the old-fashioned, 

wholesome story. It was a dreary failure. The 

critics commended my style, and the publio let me 

severely alone. Nous avons chang& tout cela, A 

theatrical manager who finds his musical piece 

berin to drag, saves the situation by a flew 

Edition— in other words, by two new songs and 

some fresh dances. In a similar way I secured a 

reputation by dragging in (at times by her very 

heel*) the Advanced Woman. True that she resembles no one in 

actual existence, true, indeed, that she is outrageously and offensively 

improbable, but the publio were not happy till they got her. They 're 

happy now. So ami. 

Mrs. Shriek ShHekon I should have thought that my views on 
speaks out. the Advanced Woman were sufficiently well 

known ; but, sinoe you ask my opinion .1 may 
say at once that I lose no opportunity of inveighing against this Jin 
de-sitcle abomination. Once on a time it was not thought un- 
becoming for a woman to be modest and retiring. She knew her 

sphere, and, queen in her own selected world, she did not aspire to a 
sovereignty which naturally belonged to others. If they were alive 
to-day (and, after all, some of them are), our grandmothers would 
hardly know their grand children— the Heavenly Twins. I am glad 
that I am permitted to keep burning the sacred lamp of the Old 
Womanhood. Indeed, it looks as if the jeers which a thoughtless 
world has hitherto reserved for the Old Maid were being transferred 
to the Old Woman. Yet to those who have never yielded to the spell 
of the latter-day notions, there is only dismay in the spectacle of the 
Advanced Woman sweeping triumphantly on, with her mind full of 
sex-problems she has not brains enough to understand, and her 
breath stained with the trace of cigarettes she does not care to 
oonoeal. Wholesomeness dies at being dubbed old-fashioned; 
Modesty does not survive the disgrace of not being up to date. It 's 
a bad world, my masters, and I 'm never tired of saying so. 

Ann U. Woman The faot that you have invited my opinion 

dreams with full knowledge of what I shall say, em- 

of the Future. boldens me to speak out Man's day (which, 

like every dog, he has had) draws to an end. For centuries he has 
had Woman at his mercy. What she is to-dav, that he has made 
her. And what is sher His Doll, his Slave, his "Old Woman*" 
But Man made one fatal mistake. In a weak moment he consented 
to allow Woman to earn her own living. From that moment our 
ultimate triumph was assured. Now we know our strength. Told 
of old that we were brainless, we now become Senior Wranglers. 
Condemned aforetime to inactivity, we now realise that- in life's 
struggle there are no prizes we are not competent to secure, though, 
of course, we are not always permitted. We have precipitated our- 
selves out of a yellow miasma of stagnant sloth into an emancipated, 
and advanced day. The Advanced Woman has come to stay— but 
not with any husband. She will be as free as the air, as strong as 
the eagle. 1 must stop, as to do any more fine writing would be to 

anticipate my next novel Be sure to get it It will be called 

[No ; I can stand a good deal, but not that.— En.] 

September 22, 1894.] 




That holiday cruise on board the good steamship Cannie Donia ! 
Did I dream it P or was it a reality r ** Are there wisions about ? " 
It seems like yesterday or like years ago, and I know it was neither. 
" Old Kaspab's,"— or let ns say middle-aged Kaspab's,--- 1 ' work was 
done" pro tem. f and he could not neglect so great an opportunity, nor 
refuse so inviting an invitation as that sent him by Sir Charles 
Cheeeib, the Chairman, to come aboard for the trial trip of the 
G.S.S. Canute Donia. So I, middle-aged Kaspar, work done as 
aforesaid, did then and thereby become Tommy the Tripper, and, 
as such, went aboard the gallant SS. aforementioned, au-to-the- 
eontrary, nevertheless, and notwithstanding. 

And wnat a goodly company ! 

Sir Charles and Lady Cheerle, perfect host and hostess in 
themselves. Here too was our Toby, M.P., waggish as ever. "I 
am not down on the official list of 
guests as ' Tobias,'" quoth he. 
•'And why P" I gave it up. "Be- 
cause," says he, answering his 
own conundrum, "I am a free 
and independent scribe, and there 
is nothing to bias me. Aha!" 
The sea air agrees with Tobt, M.P. 
" And where would the Member 
for Barkshire be," he asks, pro- 
pounding as it were another and a 
better puzzle, " but aboard a 
bonnie barque? My bark," he 
continues gailv, " may be worse 

than my bite, out " Here the 

bugle-call to breakfast sounds, 
and from ocular evidence I can 
roundly assert that whatever his 
bark may be, I will back his bite 
— and this without backbiting, of 
which, as I trust, neither of us is 
capable — against that of any two 
of his own size and weight. Yet 
Tobt en mangeant is not the 
dog in a manger, no, not by any 
means! With one eye to the 
main chance, and another to the 
corresponding comfort of his oo- 
breakfasters, so pursueth he his 
steadfast oourse, as indeed do we 
all, to the astonishment of most 
of us, through the shoals of toast 
and butter ; over the shallows of 
eggs; safely through the Straits 
of Kipper and Eurrie : with a 
pleasant time in Hot Tea Bay; 
then through a Choppy sea, be- 
tween the dangerous rooks of 
Brawn and Bacon ; into the calm 
Marmaladean Sea l where we ride 
at anchor and all is well. 

After breakfast, the cigar, or 
pipe, with conversational accom- 
paniment, what time we pace 
the quarter-deck. Prognostica- 
tions as to probable weather are 
'* taken ana offered " by nauti- 
cally-attired guests, who, in a general way, may be supposed from 
their seagoing costume "to know the ropes." Here is the ever 
amiable and truly gallant Sir Peter Plural, lookingevery inoh the 
ideal yachtsman, as honorary member of the Upper House of Cowes 
and Hyde Piers. Wonderful man Sir Peter I knows everybody, is 
liked by everybody; has been yachting and sailing and voyaging 
for any number of years : knows even the smallest waves by sight. 
and. if asked, could probably tell you their names I One day he will 
publish his reminiscences ! 

We anchor off Queenstown. The estimable, jovial Valentine 
Vulcan, M.P., from the North, must ashore to purchase some trifling 
kniokknaoka by way of mementoes of the visit Instead of " knick- 
knacks" he lays in a stock of •' knock-knocks," yclept "shille- 
laghs," which are served out to him by a delicately pale beauty of 
Erin, dark-haired, slim waisted. and as elegant as might be any 
natty girl from County Trim. She shows us some dozen shillelaghs 
with hard, murderous-looking, bulbous knobs. 

"Phew!" whistles Valentine Vulcan, M.P h weighing one of 
these dainty sticks in his hand. " You might get rather a nasty 
crack from this." I agree with him, and the sad daughter of Erin 
regards us sadly and sympathetically. 

Tt Maybe," I think to myself, "she has lost a friend or alover in one 
of these oonfounded O'Cafulet and O'Montague rows. Poor girl I " 

Saxon (jre/erring to the thillelagh*). " It *s a shame that such things as 
these should be permitted ! " 

Daughter of Erin {plaintively). "An' what would the poor Boys use, 
an' they not allowed Fire-arms ? " 

And I eye her with a look wherein admiration is tempered with pity. 
It occurs to me that I will say something appropriate, just to show 
her how I, a stranger and a Saxon, feel for her. It may lead her to 
express her hearty detestation of these faction-lights, and of these 
deadly fracas with the armed constabulary. So I say, with a touch 
of deep indignation in my tone. " It 's a shame," say I, " that such 
things as these" — and I nod trowningly at the shillelaghs which 
Vulcan, M.P., is twirling meditatively, one in each hand, as if right 
and left were about to fight it out— 11 it *s a shame that such things 
as these should be permitted ! " The pale, sad, beautiful daughter of 
Erin, regards me mournfully, and then, in a tone expressive of 
astonishment blended with firm remonstrance, she asks, — 
" An' what would the poor Boys use, an' they not allowed fire-arms P" 
That was all. No smile is on the lips of Erin's pale daughter. 
She is apparently in earnest, though both Vulcan and myself, 
talking it over subsequently, unite in opinion that, perhaps, she had 

been availing herself of this rare 
and unique opportunity of " get- 
ting at" the Saxon. 

So she went on recommending 
sticks and photographs, and did a 
good bit of business with our 
generous Vulcan, M.P., who re- 
turned, laden with gifts for 
various fellow-guests aboard the 
good SS. Cannte Donia. 

What amusing nights and de- 
lightful days ! The ladies —bless 
'em ! — all charming, and very 
Barkisses in their perpetual 
"willingness" to do anything 
and everything that might give 
pleasure and afford amusement. 
Two fairy-gifted maidens enter-' 
tain us mightily with a capital 
dramatio sketch of their own com- 
position ; others follow suit, play- 
ing the niano ; and a sestette per- 
form, without previous rehearsal, 
glees, madrigals, part-songs, and 
choruses to popular plantation 
melodies, under the leadership of 
that masterly musician Tom Tol- 
dbbol, whose only regret is that 
he has not been able to bring on 
board with him his sixteen-horse- 
organ (designed and made by the 
eminent firm of Bellows, B lower 
& Co., at a cost of some few thou- 
sand pounds), though, as he ex- 
plains to us, he would have done 
so, had this musical mammoth 
been only compressible within the 
limits of an ordinary carpet bag. 

However, a propos of organs, 
we have with us a representative 
of one of the greatest organs— of 
the Press — full of wise saws and 
modern instances; as jolly as a 
sandboy, or rather as a schoolboy 
out for a holiday. A sailor every 
inch of him, and this is saying a 
great deal, as he must be over six feet, and broad in proportion. 

Appropriate, too, as aboard "the craft," is the presence of the 
Great Grand Secretary, Mr. Benjamin Boaz, A.M., P.G.M., &c, &o., 
and the still Greater, Grander Something Else, P.P.M., &a, Sir 
Jonathan Jachln, mysterious offioers, Arcades ambo. of the Secret 
Rites of Masonry, full of nods, winks, becks, wreathed smiles, signs, 
secrets, fun, frolic, and tales galore. 

Ah ! the happy days ! Ana the happy evenings ! What excellent 
" toasts " and* r returnings of thanks " by my Lord Affidavit, by Sir 
Poseidon 1 Vlnexo (President of the Anchorite Court), by Andrew 
McJason (senior of the Argonautio Firm that built the good ship 
Cannie Donia) t and the sprightliest speech of all by Sir Charles 
Cheerie ! 

Bound to Falmouth, up the Fal, "with our Fal, lal, la," as singeth 
our brilliant sestette to plana, or, to quote Sir Jonathan, "our P. 
an * 0." acoompaniment* 
ThenS'uth'ards! Than.... But *• here break we off." 
Thus do I briefly make some record of a " trial trip " ; and may no 
trip that any of us may make, whether involving a trial or not, have 
worse results than has this, of which, beginning and finishing happily 
and gloriously as it has done— and such be the Cannie Donia' s fate 
evermore— I am privileged to write this alight record* and proud to 
aooount myself henceforth as One of the Trippers. 


[September 22, 1894. 





[" To Poets.— £5 offered for a One- Act Opera 
Libretto, subject to conditions," &c. — Advertise- 
ment in " Morning iW*."] 

Passed are the days when in accents pathetic 
Writers complained of their wage as 


Gone are the times when the genius poetic 
Struggled in penury, dined on a crust I 

Nor need they longer, who strive. for a 

/Grieve if the editors still are remiss ; 

What though the papers refuse them admit- 
While they're afforded such chances as 

Writers of verse, here is news to elate you ! 

41 Poets " (the title you value the most), 
Simply magnificent oners await you !— 

Viae this paragraph, cut from the Post. 

Hasten, ye bards (who surely a debt owe 
To this M^cenas, this opulent man), 

Hasten with joy to prepare a libretto 
Fit to accomplish nis excellent plan I 

He will fulfil your most lofty ambitions — 
Such generosity simply astounds 1— 

You will receive (under oertain "conditions") 

Honour, and glory, and fame, and — ftce 

pounds / 


(To a friendly Adviser.) 

When starting off on foreign trips, 
I Ve felt secure if someone gave me 

Invaluable hints and tips ; 
Time, trouble, money, these would save me. 

I 'in off ; you ' ve told 
me all you know. 
Forewarned, fore- 
armed, I start, 
How much to spend, 
and where to $o; 
Yet free, not like 
some folks " con- 

Now I shall face, se- 
rene and calm, 
Those persons, often i 

rather pressing 
For little gifts, with outstretched palm. 
To some of tnem I '11 give my blessing. 

To others — '* service " being paid — 
Buona mano, pourboire, trinkgeld ; 

They fancy Englishmen are made 
Ol money, made of (so they think) geld. 

The (jargon, ready with each dish, 
His brisk ** Voild, monsieur" replying 

To anything that one may wish ; 
His claim admits of no denying. 

The«or*ier, who never rests, 
Wno speaks six languages together 

To clamorous, inquiring guests, 
On letters, luggage, trains, boats, weather. 

The femme de chambre.'who fills my bain ; 

The ouvreuse, where I see the acteur. 
A. cigarette to chefde train, 

A franc to energetic f acteur. 

I give each" cocher what is right ; 

I know, without profound researches, 
What I must pay for each new sight — 

Cathedrals, castles, convents, churches. 

Or climbing up to see a view, 
From campanile, roof or steeple. 

Those verbal tips I had from you 
Save money tips to other people. 

Save all those florins, marks or > francs — 
Or pfennige, sous, kreutzer % is it ? — 

The change they give me at the banks, 
According to the towns I visit. 

I seem to owe you these, and yet 
Will money do ? My feeling 's deeper. 

I '11 owe you an eternal debt— 
A debt of gratitude, that's cheaper. 


A Paradox of Theatrical Success.— At 
the Criterion very difficult to get into Hot 

(After a Long Course of Oyrticism. ) 

" Sentiment is come again." 

So sajrs clever Mr. Zangwill. 
Most things tire the human brain ; 

Mugwump mockery and slang will : 
Pessimism's pompous pose, 

Hedonism's virus septic ; 
Cynicism's cold oook-nose, 

Creedless dismals, doubts dyspeptic, 
All are wearying— being sham. 

Twopenny Timon tires and sickens. 
Bitters bore us! We '11 try jam! '. i 

Back to Lytton, Hood, and Dicxeks r 
Sorrows of sweet 'seventeen P 

Yows that manly one-and-twenty meant r. 
Yes ! we 're sick of Cynic spleen. 

Let 's hark back again to Sentiment ! 
Saccharine surfeit, after all. 

Though it be a trifle .sickly. 
Changes our long gorge of gall. 

Come back, Sentiment, and quickly I 

Skptuibkr 29, 1894.] 




When Steephon shuts the ledger to, 

Relinquishing his duties, 
And takes the train from Waterloo 

For Clapham's rural beauties 
He dearly loves en route, we read, 
To smoke the solitary weed. 

" Wf ^Cf^ * ^ 8 k°pes» d* 8 * are 
V rfttx ! quickly dashed, 

For Chloe, maid 
provoking ! 
Alertly enters, un- 
The carriage la- 
belled ^Smok- 

. ing"; 

His frown, hispower- 
f ul cigar, 

His match—all un- 
availing are. 

Yes, Chloe comes, and brings no doubt, 

A friend to talk of fashions, 
While Strephok lets his weed go out, 

A prey to angry passions, 
Which, later on, released will be 
Within the excellent D. T. 

Yet grieve not so ; ungallant swain, 

Nor curse this innovation, 
Or, even if you do, refrain 

From words like u frequentation," 
But really, you should do no less 
Than cease to curse, and wholly bless. 

For if the charm this female band 

Finds in you so immense is, 
That they contentedly can stand 

The smell your weed dispenses, 
A compliment they pay you then 
You will not gain from fellow-men ! 


[" Eating sugarplums is the best cure for mun- 
dane sorrows." — A ladies' Journal, Sept. 19.] 

Whatever the sorrows that chasten your 
A cure for them all you will quickly 
If Phyllis should Drove an unsuitable wife, 
If children undutif ul cause you to grieve, 
Just get at the nearest confectioner's shop, 
The cheap and the comforting chocolate 

If the treatise at whioh you have constantly 
(Four volumes portraying " the Growth of 
By editors still is consistently burked, 

If publishers still to its merits are blind, 
You grieve at their foolish perversity ; well, 
There's healing and balm in the sweet 

Perhaps you may find— many do— that your 

Are steadily growing, while incomes 

And constant attempts to increase your 

By bold speculation seem hardly to pay ; 
Though " Turks" may decline, do not grieve 

at your plight, 
But buy, as a substitute, Turkish Delight I 

In fact, if misfortunes should seem to 

oppress, [endure, 

No longer their burden you'll sadly 

You 'U have in the midst of calamity's stress 

A certain specific that cannot but cure ; 
"Away with all sorrow!" our teacher 

"Don't grieve at existence, but taste of its 

YOL. cm. 


You weren't so far off but I knew you, 

I instantly knew you were there ! 
On my Ancient and Modern I drew you 

Between the first hymn and the prayer. 
I 'mglad that my eyes keen and quick are, 

When there are such prospects to see. 
You 're looking straight up at the Vicar — 

I wish you 'd look over at me ! 

You 've a hat that is gauzy and shady, 

Your gown is a delicate grey — 
So fair and so dainty a lady 

Ne'er entered the Church till to-day ! 
Your chaperon quietly dozes. 

Would I were a wizard, for you ! 
A wave of my wand, and with roses 

Should suddenly blossom your pew 


Br some stordinary mistake on the part of 
some wery hemenent taker of Poortraits, I 
was last week requested for to go to him and 
set for my Pioter. 

He tola me in his letter that his reason for 
wanting me to set to him was, beooz he wanted 
to have the Pioters of all the Members of the 
Cooperation, and of course they wood not be 
complete without mine, for tho of course he 
knew that I was not a real Common Conn- 
seller, still, he thort that I had left sitoh a 
mark among them by my ten years constant 
service and unwarying atention to em, that 
the hole matter woud be wanting in com- 
pleteness if my Pioter was omitted, even if 
it was only as * r Mr. Robert the City Waiter " 
a leading off thepresession or a bringing up the 
Reer ! I remembers werry well when the other 
City Pioter was printed, about a year ago, 
when the Lobd Mabe*s three Footmen, all in 
their werry hansum- 
est uniforms, was 
placed exactly in the 
front, and all being 
fine hansum fellers, 
as they undowtedly 
is, they were thort to 
have taken the shine 
outof the hole Pioter, 
but that was in 
course quite a dif- 
frent thing, and this 
new one is to be quite 
werry diffrent from 
that one, and carried 
out in quite another 
style altogether, and 
will, I shoud think, 
atraot such uniwer- 
sal admiration as will 
quite cut out the Picter Gallery as was shown 
at Gildall last summer. 

Sum few of the werry hansumest of the hole 
Court as has bin and got taken already, has 
bin and stuck theirselves up in the Reading 
Room, and werry proud they is of their ap- 
perience, and Bbowk and Me has got sum of 
the Atendents to let us go in before the 
Members comes, and see em privately. Bsowx 
says as how as he 's quite sure as there must 
be sum mistake about me, beooz as he earn* t 
at all see how I shoud fit in with the rest. 
But there 's werry little dout in my mind that 
it '8 all a case of gelosy with B&owir, who 

woud werry much like to have sitoh a chance. 

• • • • • 

I had my chance of going yesterday, and 
werry kind the Gennelman wos who took me. 
and he took me three times, to make sure of 
me. He said as I was a werry good Setter, 
and that everybody woud know who I was by 
my likenesses in Puneh, and lots of peeple 
woud like to git my Pioter, as it was a 
werry good likeness. Robert. 


Or, Evolution Gone Wrong. 

[" It it probable that the butterfly postillion, by 
an inverse process of evolution, becomes in time' 
the sombre fly-driver." — James Payn.] 

Oh, polychromatic postillion, 

Who sooureth the Scarborough plains, 
And beareth the travel- 
ling million 
For infinitesimal gains ; 
Oh, butterfly, pioture thee 
—there is the rub ! — 
Developing backwards to 
worse than a grub ! 

It fills me with doldrums 
and dolour. 
To picture thy scarlet 
and blue roolour," 

Becoming so sadly "off 
Descending to bumble- 
bee hue; 

To dandy-grey russet ; dunducketty dun ! 

Oh, Payn, this is painful. You must be in 

A fly-driver frumpy and fusty ? 

You might as well just be a fly, 
All fuzzy, and buzzy, and dusty, 

A horror to ear and to eye. 
A-hooming about and fly - blowing the 

No, no, gentle Payn, this is surely mere 

Would Darwin were here to demolish 
44 Development " turned upside down. 

Yon urchin in pink and high polish 
Degraded to rain-beaten brown ? 

A butterfly turned a blackbeetle were sad, 

But nought to the fate of our postboy, poor 

A Hansom may sink to a 44 Shoful," 

A racer descend to the rank : < 
But this metamorphosis woeful 

Is fortune's most pitiless prank. 
Smart urchin in emerald, cobalt, vermilion, 
Turn fly-driver ? Far better die a postillion . 


(By a Light Sleeper.) 

44 Ye little birds that sit and sing " 

Outside my window when the day is dawning. 
How I should like your little necks to wring, 
I fain would sleep, with weariness I'm 
Although for rest you may not feel inclined, 
Do cease, I beg of you, that aimless 
twitter : 
Trv without noise the early worm to find. 
Why should you seek my rest-time to em- 

No doubt you think your maddening cheep 

Sweeter than son$ of nightingale or linnet, 
But, tossing here with imprecations deep, 

I do declare I find no sweetness in it. 
44 Higher up ! move on ! " or stay and hold 
your tongues, 

Had I a gun, the twig you 'd quickly hop it ; 
I wish you 'd exercise your little lungs 

A thousand miles from here. In mercy 
stop it! 

The Cyclist's Cycle. 
(An Elderly would-be Wheelman's Expedience.) 

Discuss the question,— 44 Why Cycle P " 
Purchase a roadster,— Buy Cycle I 
Mount it, and tumble off t — Try Cycle ! 
Home bruised and shivering,— Icicle ! 
Read the Lancet, am horrified,— Shy Cycle ! 
Sell off at a sacrifice,— Fie Cycle ! 
And that was the end of my Cycle ! 



[Skptkmsbr 29, 1894. 



Jf£i# Harcovrt {horriJUd § appearing in ths doorway). " Oh ! Me, G. ] Mr. G, M " 
[" . . . Local option , . . If pretending to the honour of a remedy, b little bettor than an impotture, , . . T am glad to ue that Mr. Cham Bin lain 
ii active in yoor ctuio."— Extract frmn a iMier writtm by Jfr. Gladtttmt to £h* Btihop of CheMter. See Baity Pap*r $ Sept 19.] 

D i y i L i zbfU by VjOOQ LC~ 

September 29, 1894.] 




Yes, " Knickers " are the pro- 
per dress 
Wherewith a Cycle's seat to 

Convenient, and—should you 

be thrown— 
Making less re-ve-la-ti-on ; 
There's less of danger, aye, 

and dirt. 
Attending the divided skirt. 
I will not say I wholly like 
To tee my Julia on a * * hike " : 
I will not say that I should 

To see CoBnrar a don the trews ; 
But yet, if either beauty feel 
That she is bound to cycle- 
(Like to a she-Ixion) then, 
Sinoe ladies aim to ride like 
men, [teaches 

'Tis clear that all experience 
That it is best to wear knee- 
And drop Ine prejudice that 

doth dote 
On the tempestuous petticoat. 
A skirt that oatoheth here and 
there, [ing bare, 

And leaves a stretoh of stock- 
Raiments that ruck, and cause 
thereby [fusedly ;— 

The wheels to move con- 
All these be awkward follies, 
sure, [menture. 

Compared with dual gar- 
Knickers and legging?, by- 

With tbeir unfeigned sim- 
Will more bewitch us— on a 

44 bike"— 
Than flowing skirts we now do 

r * 


Keeper {to Sportsmen, who have just fired all four barrels without touching a 
feather). "Diary me 1 uncommon strong on the Wing Birds is, Gen- 
tlemen t 'Stonishing amount o* Shot they carries away with 'em 
to re sure 1 " 


[A late report of the Automatic 
Machine Company says that out 
of every twelve coins placed in 
the slot two are bad.] 

Average "Honest Man " log. .— 

Put a penny in the slot P 

That is simply tommy-rot I 

If I want a cigarette, 

Or some hatter scotch, yon het, 

If J put a penny in, 

'Tis a W one I Bits of tin, 

Workmen's tickets, discs of 

Aught that's rounded and 

will chink, 
Chips of copper filed to size, 
Tokens, counters— all I tries. 
Takes a lot o' trouble, too. 
To fake up a reglar " do." 
So for nix I often get 
Butter scotch or cigarette. 
Oh! it is a splendid joke! 
I should like to see the bloke 
When he turns 'em out I Oh 

Twenty per oent. are shams — 

or more ! . 
Honest t Wot? To a ma- 

chine t 
You must think me jolly 

The machine can't cop or 

Automatics do not know. 
If I pop a " Frenchy " in. 
Or a lump of brass or tin, 
Who 's to tell that I do not 
Put a penny in the slot P 

In the Press,— The Cruelty 
of the Jap. By the Author oi 
The Kindness of the Celestial. 


Scene — The " Gothenburg Arms? under new (Municipal) 
Management, licensed for the sale of liquors for the public profit 
only. Mr. G., an elderly but cheerful and chatty customer, and 
Miss Josephine, a smart barmaid, discovered conversing across 
the counter. 
Miss Joe (aside). Why, here is that ohirpy old josser again! I 

wonder, now. what is his little game here t 
Mr. G. (aside). Ana! there she is, looking smart as fresh paint! 
(Aloud.) Good morning, Miss Josey! How are you, my 
Miss Joe. Ah, tha-anks. J'm all right. 
Mr. G. Which you look it indeed ! Just a 

Jrlass of the usual, my dear, (f you please. 
00 (drawing tY). Oh, I thought you 'd turned total abstainer 
or something. 
Mr. G. Dear no I That 's your chaff; you were always a tease. 
Mm Joe (bristling). A tease, Mr. G. P Why, I wouldn't demean 

myself. What ean it matter to me what you take P 
Mr. G. Come now, Miss Job, don't be raspy this morning. 
Miss Joe. Me raspy, indeed ! Well, you do take the cake ! 

You've been awfully down on the Bungs for a long time, have 
you and your friends, that Miss Harcoubt and such. 
Mr. G. Don't call her my friend, if you please, dear Miss Josey. 
Miss Joe. Oh, come !— I say!— this is a trifle too muoh ! 

Were not you and that Lawson, and others, fair pals; Local 
Optioners down to the ground, and all that P 
Mr. G. (airily). Oh, now I am " freer" and muoh less "responsible." 

Makes such a difference ! 
Miss Joe. What are you at P 
Mr. G. Why, my dear girl, this new Gothenburg system always has 
struck me as quite the sole chance 
Of escape from predicament truly contemptible— only fair pro- 
mise of real advance. 
8o dad to see you so active in aid of it ! 
Miss Joe (eoquettishly). Oh, Mr. G. ! if Miss H. could but hear ! 

Mr. G. (pettishly). Bother Miss H. ! Local Option's her fad, and 
I 'm friendly, of oourse, to it, only, my dear, 
The mere limitation of numbers— her idol and Parliament's also for 

twenty years past— 
Is all tommy- rot as a remedy ! 
Miss Joe. Really, my dear Mr. G.. you are getting on fast. 

Don't mean to sayyou mean '* chocking '' Miss H. and the rest of 

the Vetoers, Wilfbid and all ? 
What will he say ? He '11 be giving you beans ; and that blessed 
Alliance will raise a big squall. 
Mr. G. "Charge, Chrsteb, charge! "is my Marmion-motto. 
Lawsok and Dawsoh may kick up a row, 
But I back you and the Gothenburg system, Miss Jos, and of 
oourse I can own to it— now I 
Miss Joe. Well, I feel flattered ! But oh, poor Miss H. 
Mr. G. Entre nous, my dear Job, Local Option, per se, 

Is just an Imposture ! ! ! 
Miss H. (who has entered unperceived). Oh- is itP My favourite 
measure, too ! Oh, Mister G. ! Mister G. ! 
Call you this backing your friends P And to her too, that minx 

who was faUe to you when I was true ! 
Really it 's not safe to leave you a moment ! You naughty old 
mischief you— come along, do ! 

Friendly Lead for the Owner of " Ladas.' 

The Nonconformist Conscience, which doth mark 
Poor Pbimbose with the ire of an apostle, 

Will probably consider it a lark 
To see swift Ladas beaten by a Throstle. 

Accept the omen, Bosbbebt ; turn 'cute hedger ; 

And try the Bethel blend of u Saint " and " Ledger. 1 

The Plea of the Pabtt Scribe.— It is said that "upright 
writers" avoid scrivener's palsy or penman's cramp. Perhaps so. 
But then there is so little demand for upright writers I 



[Sbiudib 29, 1894. 


(A Story in Scenes.) 


Scene XXII. — At the Supper-table in the Housekeeper's Room. 
Mrs. Pomfret and Tbedwell are at the head and foot of the 
table respectively. Undebshell is between Mrs. Pomfret and 
Miss Phillipson. The Steward's Room Boy waits. 

TredweU. I don't see Mr. Adams here this evening:, Mrs. Pom- 
feet. What 's the reason of that ? 

Mrs. Pomfret. Why, he asked to be excused to-nigh^ Mr. Tbed- 
well. Yon see some of the visitors' coachmen are putting up their 
horses here, and he's helping Mr. Checkley entertain them. 
(To Undeeshell.) Mr. Adams is our Stud-Groom, and him and 
Mr. Checkley, the 'ed coachman, are very friendly just now. 
Adams is very olever with his horses, I believe, and I 'm sure he 'd 
have liked a talk with you ; it 's a pity he 's engaged elsewhere this 

have missed 

I wonder ? 

hillipsow to 

conclude that my tastes were equestrian. Perhaps it 's just as well 
the Stud-Groom isn't here ! 

Mrs. Pomfr. Well, he may drop in later on. I shouldn't be 
surprised if you and he 
had met before. 

Und. (to himself). 
/should. (Aloud.) I 
hardly think it 's pro- 

Mrs. Pomfr. I 've 
known stranger things 
than that happen. 
Why, only the other 
day, a gentleman came 
into this very room, as 
it might be yourself, 
and it struck me he 
was looking very hard 
at me, and by-and-by 
he says, "You don't 
recollect me 9 Ma'am, 
but I know you very 
well," says he. So I 
said to him, '* You cer- 
tainly have the advan- 
tage of me at present, 
Sir." "Well, Ma'am,'* 
he says, " many years 
ago I had the nonour 
and privilege of being Steward's Room Boy in a house where you 
was Stillroom Maid ; and I consider I owe the position I have tince 
attained entirely to the good advice you used to give me, as I 've 
never forgot it, lia'am," says he. Then it flashed across me who it 
was— "Mr. Pocklinoton!! !" says J. Which it were. And him 
own man to the Duke of Dumrlrhctire ! Which was what made it 
so very nioe and 'andsome of him to remember me all that time. 

Una. (perfunctorily). It must have been most gratifying, Ma'am. 
( To himself!) I hope this old lady hasn't any more anecdotes of this 
highly interesting nature. I mustn't neglect Miss Prtllipson— 
especially as I haven't very long to stay here. 

[He consults his watch stealthily. 

Miss Phillipson (observing the action). I'm sorry you find it 
so slow here ; it 's not very polite of you to show it quite so openly 
though, I must say. [She pouts. 

Und. (to himself). I can't let this poor girl think me a brute! 
But I must be careful not to go too far. (To her, in an undertone 
which he tries to render unemotional.) Don't misunderstand me 
like that. If I looked at my watch, it was merely to count the 
minutes that are left. In one short half hour I must go— I must 
pass out of your life, and you must forget— oh, it will be easy for 
you — but for me, ah! you cannot think that I shall carry away 
a heart entirely unscathed. Believe me I shall always lxxk back 
gratefully, regretfully, on 

PhUl. (bending her head with a gratified little giggle). I declare 
you 're beginning all that again. I never aid see such a cure as you are. 

Und. (to himself displeased). I wish she could bring herself to 
take me a little more seriously. I can not consider it a compliment 
to be called a " cure "—whatever that is. 

Steptoe (considering it time to interfere). Come, Mr. Undershell 
all this whispering reelly is not fair on the company ! You mustn't 
hide your bushel under a napkin like this ; don't reserve all your 
sparklers for Miss Phillipson there. 

'Vad. (stiffly). I—ali— was not making any remark that could be 
described as a sparkler, Sir. I donH sparkle. 

" He suttingly didn't'givc me the impression of being a Gentleman 

PhiU. (demurely). He was being rather sentimental just then, 
Mr. Stfptoe, as it happens. Not that he can't sparkle, when he 
likes. I'm sure if you f i heard how he went on in the fly ! 

Steptoe (with malice). Not having been privileged to be present, 
perhaps our friend here could recollect a few of the best and repeat 

Miss Dolman. Do, Mr. Uxdirshell, please. I do love a good 

Und. (crimson). I— you really must excuse me. I said nothing 

worth repeating. I don't remember that I was particularly 

Stept. Pardon me. Afraid I was indiscreet. We must spare Miss 
Phillipson's blushes by all manner of means. 

Phill. Oh, it was nothing of that sort. Mr. Steptoe! J'veno 
objection to repeat what he said. He called me a little green some- 
thing or other. No ; he said that in the train, though. But he would 
have it that the old cab-horse was a magic steed, and the fly an en- 
chanted ohariot ; and I don't know what all. (As nobody smiles.) 
It sounded awfully funny as he said it, with his face perfectly 
solemn like it is now, I assure you it did ! 

Stept. (patronisingly). I can readily believe it. We shall have 
you contributing to some of our yumerous periodicals, Mr. Under- 
shell, Sir, before long. Suoh facetious talent is too good to be 
lost, it reelly is ; 

Und. (to himself writhing). I gave her credit for more sense. To 
make me publicly ridiculous like this ! [He sulks. 

Miss Stickler (to M. 
Ridevos, who suddenly 
rises). Mossoo, you're 
not goin g ! Why, what- 
ever 's the matter? 

M. Ridevos. Pair- 
meet zat I make my 
depart. I am ot at ze 
[General outcry and 

Mrs. Pomfr. (con- 
cerned). You never 
mean that, Mossoo? 
And a nioe dish of 
quails just put on, too, 
tnat they haven't even 
touched upstairs ! 

M. Rid. It is for zat 
I do not retnmain ! Zey 
'are not tooh him ; my 
pyramide, result of a 
genius stupend,enorme! 
to zem he is nossing; 
zeyretturn himtoorash 
me ! To - morrow I 
demmand zat Miladi aooept my demission. Iciie souffre trop ! 

[tie It aves the room precipitately. 
Miss Stick, (offering to rise). It does seem to have upset him ! 
Shall I go after him and see if I can't bring him round ? 

Mrs. Pomfr. (severely). Stay where you are, Harriet ; he 's better 
left to himself. If he wasn't so wrapped up in his cookery, he 'd 
know there 's always a dish as goes the round untasted, without why 
or wherefore. I 've no patience with the man ! 

Tred. (philosophically). That's the worst of 'aving to do with 
Frenchmen; they're so apt to beyave with a sutting childishness 
that— {checking himself) — I really ask your pardon, Mamsell, I 
quite forgot you was of his nationality ; though it ain't to be won- 
dered at, I 'm sure, for you might pass for an Englishwoman almost 
anvwhere ! 
M lie. Chiffon. As you for Frenchman, hein ? 
Tred. No, 'ang it all, Mamsell, I 'ope there's no danger o' that! 
(To Miss Phillipson.) Delighted to see the Countess keeps as fit as 
ever, Miss Phillipsow ! Wonderful woman for her time o' life ! 
Law. she did give the Bishop beans at dinner, and no mistake ! 

Phill. Her ladyship is pretty generous with them to most people, 
Mr. Tred well. I 'm sure I 'a have left her long ago, if it wasn't 
for Lady Maiste— who is a lady, if you like ! 

Tred. She don't favour her ma, I will say that for her. By the 
way, who is the party they brought down with them ? a youngish 
looking chap — seemed a bit out of nis helement, when he first come in, 
though he's soon got over that, judging by tne way him and your 
Lady Rhoda, Miss Dolman, was 'obnobbing together at table ! 

Phill. Nobody came down with my ladies; they must have met 
him in the bus, I expect. What is his name Y 

Tred. Why, he give it to me, I know, when I enounced him ; but 
it 's gone olean out of my head again. He 's got the Yerney Chamber, 
1 know that much ; but what wai his name again ? I snail forget 
my own next. 

Und. (involuntarily). In the Yerney Chi 
must be Spurbell ! 

hamW? "" ** nM,w 

September 29, 1894.] 



Phiil. (starting). Spubbell! Why, fused to But of oourse 

it can't be him! 

Tred. Spurbell was the name* though. (With a resentful glare 
at Ukdebshell.) I don't know how you came to be aware of it, Sir! 

Und. Why, the fact is, I happened to find out that— (here he re- 
ceive* an admonitory drive in the back from the Boy) — that his name 
was 8pubbell, ( To himself) I wish this infernal Boy wouldn't be 
so officious ; but perhaps he *s right ! 

Tred. Ho, indeed ! Well, another time, Mr. Huxdershell, if you 
require information about parties staying with Us, pVaps you'll be 
good enough to apply to me personally, instead of picking it up in 
some 'ole and corner fashion. (Ukdebshell controls his indignation 
with difficulty.) To return to the individual in question, Miss 
Phxllipsoiv, I should have said myself he was something in the 
artistic or littery way ; he suttingly didn't give me the impression 
of being a Gentleman. 

Phill. (to herself relieved). Then if isn't my Jem ! I might have 
known he wouldn't be visiting here, and carrying on with Lady 
Rhodas. He 'd never forget himself like that— if he has forgotten me" ! 

Slept. It strikes me he's more of a sporting character, Tbedwell. 
I know when I was circulating with the cigarettes, and so on, in the 
hall just now, he was telling the Captain some anecdote about an old 
steeplechaser that was faked up to win a Selling Handicap, and it 
tickled me to that extent I could hardly hold the spirit-lamp steady ! 

Tred. I may be mistook, Stiptoe. All I can say is, that when 
me and James was servinsr cawfy to the ladies in the drawing-room, 
some of them had got 'old of a little pink book all sprinkled over 
with silver outlets, and, rightly or wrongly, I took it to 'ave some 
connection with *im. . 

Und. (excitedly). Pink and silver! Might I ask— was it a volume 
of poetry, called— et— Andromeda f 

Tred. (crushingly). That 1 did not take the liberty of inquiring, 
Sir. as you might be aware if you was a little more familiar with the 
hetiquette of good Serciety. 

[Ukdebshell collapses ; Mr. Adams enters, and steps into the 
chair vacated by the Chef, next to Mrs. Pomfbet, with 
whom he converses. 

Z w nd. (to himself). To think that they may be discussing my book 
in the drawing-room at this very moment, while,.!— I- — (He 
chokes.) Ah, it won't bear thinking of ! I must— 1 will get out of 
this cursed place I I have stood this too long as it is ! But I won't 
go till I have seen this fellow Spurbell, and made him give me back 
my things. What's the time P ... ten ! I can go at last. ( He rises. ) 
Mrs. Pomfret, will you kindly excuse me P I— 1 find I must go at once. 

Mrs. Pomfr. Well, Mr. Uhdrbshell, Sir, you 're the best judge ; 
and, if you really can 't stop, this is Mr. Adams, who '11 take you 
round to the stables himself, and do anything that's necessary. 
Won't you, Mr. Adams ? 

Adams. So you 're off to-night, Sir, are you P Well, 1 'd rather bV 
shown you Deerfoot by daylight, myself; but there, Idessay that 
won't make much difference to you, so long as you do see 1 he 'orse P 

Und. (to himself). So Deerfoot 's a horse ! One of the features of 
Wyvern, I suppose ; they seem very anxious I shouldn't miss it. 
I don't want to see the beast ; but I daresay it won't take many 
minutes ; and, if I don't humour this man, 1 phan't get a convey- 
ance to go away in! (Aloud.) No difference whatever— to ,me. 
1 shall be delighted to be shown Beer foot ;.bnly I really can't wait 
much longer • I— I 've an appointment elsewhere ! 

Adams. Eight, Sir: you get your 'at and coat, and come along 
with me, and you shall see him at once. 

[Ukdebshell takes a hasty farewell of Miss PhIllipson and 
the company generally-^none of whom attempts to detain 
him — and follows his guide. As the door closes upon them, 
he hears a burst of stifled merriment, amidst which Miss 
Phjllipson's laughter ts only too painfully recognisable. 


[It is proposed to form a '* Trust for the Preservation <of Beautiful or 
Historical Places."] 

" A thetg of beauty is a joy for And trampling Cockney Goth 

ever ! " [you were, and clever ; would quickly mar : [of war. 

Nay Keats, sweet bard, earnest More than the devastating: tread 

But "Things of Beauty" will not Such to preserve, with all their 

long be joys" [boys* winning beauties, [duties, — 

If left to jerry-builders, cads, and Is surely Civilisation's first of 

And 'Aery's knife, and the fern- Preserve from ravage of the rash 

digger's trowel, [bowel cheap-tripper, 

Used to disfigure and to disem- Or wanton blade of 'Aeet the 

ivt'a tMfl u t arn ifwma on/) Aonw "Ka. 

Art's masterpieces and dear Na- 
ture's charms, 

Will work on Beauty's world de- 
structive harms. 

Sacred to silence, that the still 
monk's sandal [vulgar Vandal 

Brake only, spots there are tbe 

And nose-disngurer, with his Poll 

or 'Ttldeb, [Builder. 

Or wreckage of the Speculative 
So Punch, the beauty-loving, 

thoughtful, just, (Trust ! 

Wishes success to the new Beauty 


'Arry. "What sort of a Job's that you've got at Babel 
Buildings, Alf?" 
Alf. "Jolly 'ard ; all the Messages and Parcels from the 


'Arry. " Tell yer what, old Man, you 'd command double 
the Money if you was fitted up with a Lift and a Speakin'- 

TUBE ! " 


Sir,— I have seen some letters in the Daily Graphic on the above 
subject. A much more curious thing happened to me on April 1, 1887, 
at twentyfcflve minutes past ten in the morning. I dropped a pin 
about four yards from the south-western corner of the Marble Arch. 
It is almost incredible that exactly three vears later I picked up a 
pin, at 4. 17 in the afternoon, three yards ana peven and a quarter inches 
to the south-east of the Humane Society's Receiving House. I have 
studied carefully the levels of the ground, the flow of the surface 
water, and the direction of the prevailing air ourrents, and I am 
reluctantly forced to the conclusion that it was not the same pin. 
Had it been, I should have found it five and a half inohes further 
north. The question now is, whose pin was it P— Your obedient 
.servant, Scientific Iwvestigatob. 

Deae Sib;— Some weeks ago I rode outside an omnibus from 
Piccadilly Circus to Charing: Cross. Getting down hastily, when I 
found that it went on to Westminster instead of the City, I left 
behind a large grey parrot in a cage, a siphon of soda-water, and a 
St. Bernard dog. Yesterday, when I climbed on to an omnibus 
following the same route, 1 found my cage, my siphon, and my dog ! . 
It was the same omnibus, and the faithful beast was fetill there. n 
Unfortunately the parrot and the soda-water were not, for the 
sagacious animal had evidently made use of them to sustain life, 
not very satisfactorily, for he was a mere skeleton. 

Yours obediently, Constant Reader. 

Bear Ma. Punch,— Last evening I went out to dinner, and put my 
one latch-key in my pocket. Marvellous to relate, on m y return home 
at three a.m., I toot it, as I thought, from my pocket, and found that 
it had become two! Yours faith full v, Booset Titf. 



[September 29, 1894. 

Akd have top wet my Frien-d' Lilt Macpherson in Glasgow I How Prettt we thought bee I 
" Pretty, GrakduoimaI Wrt, she's as Fat as cam be, and rf.d-faoed, and no Teeth I" 
"Ah well I Forty Years do chasqr a Girl 1" 


(Fragment of a Tale of New Japtn as told around a Fire-Brazier in 

Dai Nippon.) 

• ••••• 

Once upon a time in the Happy Dragon-fly shaped Land of the 
Rising Son there lived a little hero named Jap. Small he was, hat 
yaliant as TAKi-KO-ucHi-xo-suKuirl; himself of the long life and 
many-syllabled name. He was a dead hand at dragon slaying, and 
had killed more tigers than Had&bu. He could exorcise Oni like one 
o'clock, these demons or imps haying an exceeding bad time of it 
when Jap was, as he would term it, " on the job." In fact, his 
exploits were the favourite topic of talk when young and old gathered 
around the hibaohi, or fire-braziers, to list to tales of heroism, filial 
piety, and Pro-Gress. Pro-Gres* was the name of the great new 
goddess of whom Jap was a votary. From her he had received the 
gift of a new " sword of sharpness," which would not only, like 
the gift of the triple-headed Cornish giant, " cut through anything," 
but would make all enemies cut like anything. 

Little Jap, having acquired this wonderful sword, compared with 
which that which Nitta threw into the sea was a mere oyster-knife. 
was naturally desirous of using it. He kept it as sharp as that 01 
the great demon-queller Sho-ki ; but the demons he quelled with 
it were the great obstructive ogres known as Kon-aervA-tism, 
Fogi-ism ana Pre-ju-dioe. Jap gave those antiquated bogies 
beans. The Tragus and Sho-jos had a bad time of it, you bet. and 
the " bag " of Drarons, or Tatsus, Jap could show after one of his 
regular " battues " was a caution to Saurian*, I can assure vou ! 
He had a collection of TaUu-teeth that would have aroused the 
envy of Cadmus, and given Jason a high-toned job. As to that 
terrible wild-fowl, the Ho-ho bird, with " the head of a pheasant, 
the beak of a swallow, the neck of a tortoise, and the outward 
semblanoe of a dragon " Jap, with his "gun of swiftness" (another 
gift of his favourite goddess) knocked the Ho-hos over right ana left, as 
though they were really pheasants in a swell British preserve ; and it 
was commonly said that when Jap had a day among the Ho-hos, there 
was a glut in the Toyoakitsu poultry market for a fortnight after. 

But Jap, in time, grew tired of the common or cherry-garden Ho-ho. 
and awearyof such small sport as mere dragons and demons coula 
furnish. He yearned like an Anglo-Indian Shikari for big game ! 

Now there was an ugly, but enormous giant, fierce-looking as 
Eaminari, the Thunder-god, old as Urashima, the Eami-no-kuni 

Rip Van Winkle^ strong as Asaina Saburo, the Dai Nippon Her- 
cules, big as Fufli-yama, " the matchless mountain," rich as the 
Treasure Ship, laden with Ta-kara-mono (or "Precious Things"), 
stubborn, stolid, and unprogressive as Kame, the hairy-tailed 
tortoise, himself. This tremendous Tartar-Mongolian Blunderbore 
had a number of fine names, of flowery flavour and Celestial 
swaggeroomeness, but we will call him Joit-ht, for short. 

Now Little Jap hated Big Jox-xi, and Big Jox-xi disdained 
Little Jap, as indeed he disdained everybody else save his conceited 
and colossal self. Jap curled his lip at Joir-ni ; Jon-kt put out his 
tongue at Jap like a China figure : when the duodecimo hero bit his 
thumb at the elephantine Celestial, the elephantine Celestial oocked a 
snook at the duodecimo hero. This could not last. Little Jap was 
ambitious to try his sword of sharpness and his gun of swiftness 
upon big game. He cried, " By the heroic Hidesato who slew the 
giant Centipede, I will have a slap at this bouncing Bobadil of a 
wooden-headed, grandmother- worshipping, old Stick-in-the-mud I" 

Some of his more timid friends tried to dissuade him. " Beware, 
Jap," they oried, "this Chinese Blunderbore is too big for thee!" 
" Pooh I " retorted the undaunted Jap. " Remember 

' the valiant Cornish man 

Who slew the giant Cormoran.' 

Am I not as big as Jack now, and as fit to play the Giant-killer 
as he ? Too big P Why, the overgrown monster is like the Buddhist 
Daruma, who, * arriving in China in the sixth century, at once went 
into a state of abstraction, which extended over nine years, during 
which time he never moved ; and as a result lost the use of his leg*.' 
Only Jon-ni has been 'in a state of abstraction' for nine centuries 
instead of nine years, and has lost the use of his head, as well as his 
legs ! He hates and scorns my tutelary goddess. Pro-Gress. I will 
try the effect of her gifts upon him ! Here goes ! ! ! " 

• • • • • • 

His admiring friends dubbed him "Jap the Giant -Killer " at 
once. And, indeed, when he "went for" that clumsy Colossus, 
who in physical proportions out-Chang'd Chang himself, the result 
of the first round, in which the swaggersome Jon-ni was fairly 
beaten to his knees, seemed to justify the title. But giants are not 
usually " knocked out " in one round, and—well, my children, tiny 
Jap's further fortunes in his fight with Titan Joit-ht, may furnish 
material for further narrative when next we gather around the 
glowing hibachi to tell tales of Jap the Giant ^KilferTjOglC 

Digitized by 


September 29, 1894.] 





She {whose train has suffered). "Oh, don't repay me. Settle with my Dressmaker!' 


The Street. Saturday Nioht. 

(By an Eye-witness.) 

On a Saturday night, in a crowded street, 

(The Butcher said u Buy ! Buy ! ") 
Blue apron and cleaver and all complete, 
Surrounded with joints of the primest meat, 
Beef, mutton, heads, carcases, tails and feet, 
The Butcher said 44 Buy ! Buy!" 

A succulent chop on the counter lay, 

(The Butcher. said " Bay ! Buy l h ) 
When a Terrier, scenting an easy prey. 
Observed to himself, " What a tine display ! " 
And he cocked bis eye in a sapient way — 
The Butcher said 44 Buy ' Buy!" 

The Terrier jumped through the open sash ; 

(The Butcher said* 4 Buy! Buy!") 
To his infinite credit— he had no cash- 
Away with the chop like a lightning flash. 
(The Butcher, by way of a change, said 
44 Dash!") 

The Terrier said 44 Bye ! Bye ! " 

Tip for a Trundler. 

(In the Of Season.) 

Cricket is over ; the Summer fails : 
Do vou feel rather out in the cold, Sir P 

Well have a shy at 44 professional bails " : 
And the Public will cry, 44 Well bowled, 


(Supposed to havebeen "written in Mid-Channel" 
See published Works of Alfr-d A-st-n.) 

This is the sea that neat Britannia rules ! 
The waves salute their mistress. Still I see 
Far in our wake the white cliffs of the free. 
Arise, tempest, blow, disturb these pools ! 
Ye waves, I love you ! Let the puling fools 
Prate as they will, but let me ever be 
Tossed on your foaming crests. I shout 
with glee. 
While the North wind my poet's forehead 

ffuernseyed sailors, I am of your kin : 

I too have in my blood the scorn of fear 

That faced the storm, what time th* embattled 

din [cheer 

Broke on Trafalgar, and an answering 

From British throats proclaimed, 4I We win 1 

we win ! " 

Dear me, what *s this P Ahem ! I 'm 
feeling queer. 

No, no, it shall not be ; the poet's eye 
Shall yet flash fire, his heart bhall never 

Though round about him, blanching in the 

His fellows falter Waves, be not too 

high ; [me dry. 

Mere height proves nothing. Leave, oh leave 

Down, waves ! Down, fluttering heart! 

Why should I quail? 
Here in the packet of the Royal Mail 
[ tread the deck and do disdain to fly. 

But ah, what pangs are these? No, no! — 
jes, yes !— 
Again I say it shall not be— no, no !— 
At least not yet^-;but yet I do oonf ess 

A craven yearning draws me down below. 
Curst be the words in which I erst did bless 

The towering billows Steward! yo, 

heave, ho ! 


Was it for this I left the pleasant strand 
Of England, and the leafy oountry lanes, 
The ploughs, the cattle, and the creaking 

Ye sounds that only poets understand, 

Of sheep-bells tinkling o'er a sunny land, 
Was it for this I left you, for the gains 
Of dew-sprent brow and deep internal 

Of feeble voice and nerveless clammy hand P 

Never again Bhall ocean with his roar 
Attract me from the firm- built homes of 
Let others steer from shore to farthest shore, 
Climbing the liquid hills that now and then 
Break and overwhelm them— I shall roam no 
Once landed on old Dover Pier again. 


When Drummond wrote of the Ascent of 

He did not think of the Descent of Woman 
Upon his poor doomed head. The Assyrian 
Did not "oome down" with wrath more 

Or more like a fierce wolf upon the fold : 
Mrs. Lynn Linton, sweetest mannered scold 
That ever heresy to judgment summoned, 
Hath! had her dainty will, and drammed out 

Drummond * 

Give us a gentle lady, without bias, 
To play Apollo to a new Marsyas I 





[Sxptxhbkb 29, 1894. 

s- — *=:S5&^ 

September 29, 1894.] 




(An Unlucky Batsman's Lament after a Season of Slaw Wickets.) 
Air — "Ask me no more." 

Bowl me no more : the man may draw the stumps ; 

The rain may swoop from heaven and swamp the crease ; 

In folds of baize the bat may lie at peaoe ; 
But oh, too fond of yorkers, breaks and bumps, 
Bowl me no more ! 

Bowl me no more : 'tis dark at half-past fire ; 

The misty lijrht betrays the keenest eye. 

Cricket, dismal autumn bids thee die ! 
Bowl me no more : Football is all alive ; 

Bowl me no more ! 

Bowl me no more : bat's fate and ball's is seaTd. 
I strove to make my thousand, all in vain : 
Like a great river ran the ceaseless rain, 

And spoiled the wickets. Lo, I leave the field 
Bowl me no more ! 


(A Story of the Long Vacation.) 

! "Mb. Briefless," said an eminent solicitor to me the other 
day, " I want you to go to East Babbleton, in Guiltshire, to se • 
if the Great Gooseberry Will case is still open. It is a matter of 
vital importance, and I shall be glad if you oan attend to it 

Referring to Portington, I found that my diary was clear f »r 
the day specified, and I expressed my willingness to carry out my 
client* a instructions. 

** I must know at once," continued the gentleman, " because 1 
desire to bring the matter before the Vacation Judra on an origi- 
nating summons. I need scarcely add, that you will get the fullest 
particulars from the parish clerk." 

Although rather imperfectly instructed, I determined to visit East 
Babbleton. The usual sources of railway information led me to 
believe that the place was six or seven miles distant from Nearvioes 
in Goiltshire. I determined to go to Nearvice*, takiog with me my two 
lads (home for the holidays), George Lewis Hrrschell and Edward 
Clabxe Russell. Before now I have explained that my sons' 
Christian names have been selected with a view to assisting (in after 
yean) their professional advancement. We had to start at an 
unusually early hour from London, and after enjoying the com- 
panionship of some sportsmen, who talked about **duok" and 

roots" for a quarter of a day, arrived at Nearvioes at eleven 
o'clock. I made at once for the Bed Lion, the principal hotel 
in the town. My sons followed me, eager for breakfast. Until then, 
they had satisfied their appetite by the stealthy consumption of 
about half ~a-pound of a sweetmeat that is, I Believe, known as 
Japanese Almond Bock. 

The ** Bed Lion " was in a state of great commotion. There were 
people in high hats at the door, people in high hats looking out of 
the coffee-room window, people in high hats thronging the halt With 
some trouble my lads and I got our breakfast, then I asked for the 
ostler. He cune to me after a pause and awaited my orders. 

** I want a trap to take me over to East Babbleton," I said ; " and 
should like to know how much it will cost" 

** Very sorry. 8ir. bnt I can't do it for you. All the carriages in 
the house are hired. You know, Sir, Miss Smith is going to be 
married, and consequently you can't get a conveyance for love or 

I was seriously annoyed, as the instructions of my client were 

f 'I r eally must get over," I said emphatically; "surely Miss 
8ktth oan lend us one of her carriages. Ton might ask her future 

Can't do that Sir," replied the ostler; " fur we none of us know 
u However. I 'Usee what can be done for you. Could you drive 
yourself over f " 

14 Oh, d*> Papa," shouted my two sons in an testacy of delight. 
44 It would be such fun ! and mother isn't here to stop you." 

"Well, I will have a shot at it," I returned; "although truth to 
tell I am a little rusty. I have not driven for some time/' 

The ostler eyed me rather sharply, and retired. I then thought it 
my duty to reprove my sons for their ill-timed levity, explaining that 
their tomfoolery might have caused the ostler to refuse to entrust his 
equipage to my care. 

'* But you have never driven in your life f " said George Lbwis 
Hebschxll. ** Have you. Papa ? " 

*'I cannot say that I have," I replied, with that truthfulness 
which is the characteristic of my dealings in the domestio circle. 


The Colonel. "What was that noise I heard just now?" 

His Nephew. "Oh I I was blowing up my Servant!" 

The Colonel. "May I ask why?" 

His Nephew. "Well— aw— you see he is such a confoundid 
Idiot I " 

The Colonel. "But did it never occur to you that if be 
weren't 8uch a confounded idiot he would never have been 
your Servant?" 

" Oh, what a game I " shouted Edward Clarke Russell, roaring 
with lauffhter. 

Severely chiding my offspring, I proceeded to the hall d mr. The 
ostler had been as good as his word. There was certainly a 

*' It is not very showy, Sir," said the proprietor ; " but I think it 
will last a dozen of miles or so." 

It was a small dog-cart, which conjured up visions of the toy 
waggon-and-horse department in the Lowther Arcade. There was a 
horse in the shafts. The harness was imperfect, and the collar 
showed its straw. However. I took mjr seat, and the dots got up 
beside me. Then, amidst the good wishes of the wedding party 
watching our progress, I started. The horse immediately took up a 
oourse over the pavement, and no doubt aware that the illumi- 
nating power at East Babbleton was primitive, attempted to 
carry with him a lamp-post. We cannoned off the pavement into 
the middle of the road, and were fairly " off." 

" If you bays laugh any more," I said, with the utmost severity, 
" 1 will turn you out and leave you." 

" Bat Papa, if mother oould only see us ! " cried the pair, and 
then, they indulged in apparently nnextinguishable bursts of 

I had no farther time for remonstrance, as the brute of a horse, 
after beginning in a trot, had suddenly quickened its pace to a mad 
gallop. And as it did this I notioed that a dust-cart was lust in 
front of ut. I dragged at the reins, and with almost superhuman 
exertions brought the beast to a full stop. 

" Whioh is the way to East Babbleton f " I asked, to explain my 
rather abrupt pull-up. " Am I taking the right road P" 

The dustman looked at me, at the horse, smiled, and answered in 
the affirmative. Seeing that we were now about to descend a hill. I 
got down and led thenorse by its bridle. The brute resented the 



[Skptkmber 29, 1894. 

the Lowther Arcade dog-cart, and urged on my partially wild 


Scene— A Norfolk Beach. 
Mr. and Mrs. Wavely (returning to their tent). " Ah, Mb. MoVicar ! 

TOU ? " 

Mr. McVicar. "I recollect your Faces perfatelt well, Sir ; 


attention. So far as I could judge, without being an expert in 
horse-flesh, it seemed to me to be suffering from tooth-ache. It shook 
its head when I touched it, and appeared to be disinclined to go 

44 Do get in. Papa," paid Edward Clarke Russell. •' Perhaps he 
will go all right if you leave him alone." 

Adopting my son's advice, I mounted the cart, and once again 
jerked the reins. The beast began at a trot, and then, as before, 
commenced a mad gallop. We rapidly left Nearvices behind us, and 
brought ourselves to a stop in front of a haystack. 

44 You see," I said, 4 * the brute is open to reason. It was stopped 
by an obstruction. Seeing the futility of further progress, it 
desisted in its running." 

44 But look. Papa, at that," cried George Lewis Herschell, 
pointing to what seemed to be the remains of a coal cart. The wheels 
were off, the black diamonds were scattered about in all directions, 
and the shafts weie broken. 

44 Was that an accident ? " I asked an old man who was lighting 
his pipe. The venerable individual paused, looked at the pipe, 
looked at the pieces of the cart, and looked at me. Then he rubbed 
the right side of his head with the palm of his right hand. 

44 Well, yes, it was," he admitted, in an aoceat I cannot reproduce ; 
but added, in a tone that suggested that mishaps of a similar charac- 
ter occurred on the average every five minutes ; 4l but that accident 
happened near an hour ago." 

This intelligence rather damped my ardour, and I immediately got 
off the cart and insisted upon leading the brute down the next hilL 
The animal protested, and shook its head. Remembering its 
possible tooth-ache, I treated it with increased courtesy, telling it 
lo 4t Gee-up" and "be a good horse." I am sorry to say that the 
treature did not seem inclined to acknowledge my kindness. 

Having come to a level piece of road, I onoe more mounted into 

career. I had passed a four- winged post at cross roads, and had 
followed the sign pointing to 4t Babbleton." I had got safely up to 
a farm-house, having restrained en route an inclination on the part 
of my horse to commit suicide by jumping over the parapet of a 
bridge into a small mountain torrent. 

44 Is this the way to East Babbleton ? " I asked a rather cheery, 
rosy-oheeked dame, who had been watohing our manoeuvres with 
a kindly smile, not entirely exempt from good-natured appre- 

44 No, this is not the road, Master," she returned, in the same 
unapproachable dialect. * 4 You ought to have borne to the left when 
you came to the cross-roads." 

Seeing that I had to go back, I seized each of the reins and called 
upon my beast of a horse to make an effort. The noble animal 
answered bravely to the call, and managed to turn round on a space of 
turf about the size of a waggon wheel. It was really a very clever 
performance, and had it been seen by Mr. Ritchie, I fancy would 
have secured for us a lucrative engagement for a 44 side show" at the 
Royal Westminster Aquarium. 

4 Well, that was a shave surely," said the dame of the cheery 
countenance ; 4< when I saw your off wheel go up in the air and hang 
over the ditch I thought it would be all up with ye." 

Accepting the compliment with dignified geniality, I asked our 
fair critic if she could bait our horse. 

44 Well, I can give him a handful of hay," said the lady ; 44 but I 
would not take him out of the shafts for worlds. If I untied him I 
could not put him together again." 

Refreshed by the nourishment, our steed started again, and after 
retracing our steps and nearly upsetting a hay cart, and narrowly 
running down a pig, we reached East Babbleton inf airly good condition, 
I looked at my watch and found that we had done the six miles in 
two hours and a quarter. Having transacted my business, I now 
turned the nose of my steed homewards. I had noticed with some 
alarm that I had only an hour to get back to Nearvices if I wanted to 
catch the train for London. This being so, I saw it was absolutely 
necessary that I should act with decision. I held a council of war 
with my two sons, and we came to the conclusion that we must get 
back as fast at we could, and when there was a difficulty, risk it. We 
entered our conveyance and started. 

I shall never forget the experience. It was absolutely delightful. 
Giving Flora (I came to the conclusion that my steed with the tooth- 
ache must have been called Flora) her head, I urged her to progress 
as rapidly as possible. The mare promptly answered to the call. I 
aiA " chick," and she started off at a mad gallop. We absolutely 


flew up-hill, down-hill, and would no doubt have entered 4 *my lady's 
chamber" had not the adjoining cottages been occupied by rustics. 
At our approach children, duoks, dogs and gipsies fled in terror. We 
boldly cannoned against waggons and shook milestones to their very 
foundations. I had long since forgotten my nervousness, and had 
assumed an air that would have been becoming in an individual 
nicknamed (let us say) 4I down the road Billy." 

I urged Flora to ,l gee up," by suggesting that * 4 five o'clock tea " 
was waiting for her on her arrival at Nearvices. My two sons, 
George Lewis Herschell and Edward Clarke Russell, also 
rendered valuable assistance by waving their straw hats, and singing 
comic songs with a vehemence that rendered the ballads undis- 
tinguishable from war ditties. As we entered Nearvices, Flora 
stumbled, and all but fell. However, with wonderful skill, I picked 
her up at the end of my reins, and urged her to fresh exertions by a 
feeble fliok of the whip, that expended its force on the shafts and a 
part of the collar. Again we new on. We renewed our acquaint- 
ance with the attractive lamp-post, we crossed the sharp curve of the 
familiar pavement, we collided against the monument to a worthy in 
the market-place, and drove up with a jtrk in front of the 4t Red 
Lion." I looked again at my watch; we had done the six miles in 
twenty-two minutes. Considering the hills, dales, and obstructive 
milestones, a very fair record. 

44 What, you have come back ! " exclaimed the landlady of the 44 Red 
Lion." 44 Why, we never expected to see you." 

I found subsequently that the wedding party, after watching our 
departure, had taken bets about our probable return. The most 
popular wager seemed to be that we should reappear after midnight 
with a wheel, a bit of harness, and the whip, but without the 

I have nothing further to relate save this. That after my recent 
success I am thinking seriously of giving up the Bar and taking to 
the road. If I can raise the required capital, I think I shall run a 
four-horse coach between the Temple and Turnham Green. Both 
my boys are anxious to give up their school to act as my guard. 

By the way. I may add in conclusion that the parish olerk of East 
Babbleton declared that be had never heard (until I mentioned it) of 
the Great Gooseberry Will Case. So I suppose that my client must 
have been wrong in his details. 

Pump ^Handle Court, 

September 22, 1894. _. 

- ; Digitized hy 


A. Briefless, Junior. 

Ociobkb 6, 1894] 



U.i)B i ^<^« 3^ <* C*^ • 

2. "Ah I Bgw arj you, (ieaf old boy ? " shouted tile CI u bite*, bj&teriuiil with amotion ate 


I. Il whb thy beginning of the Club itosofc. "J shall 
be glad to sec all the boys again after nil these weeka ! Tf 
murmured Clubber, aj Mm. C. packed him up. 

3. " Magnificent reciter Foodie" is, to be sure!" they murmured, in an'ecstatic dream of enthusiasm. 4. And when they parted at the end of the 
; 4< Brav ! Splendid, dear old boy ! ! " evening, they breathed fervently, " Good night, 

old fellow-bless you!" * * * * * 

6. It was the middle of the Club season. " Hum, Foodie's recitations are always so long-winded. Great 6. And when they parted at th* end of 
mistake," they muttered to themselves. " And the other fellows are a bit slow, after all." the evening, they just nodded. • • • 

7. It was the end of the Club season. " Well, if 8. " / 'm not going to recite to you idiots/' 

you want my opinion," said Clubber, " that raid Foodie. ?t It ? s a waste* of breath;"' 
Foodie 's a beastly poor reciter." "I don't want " Much relieved to hear it ! " said Groedle. * 
your opinion ; nobody does," said Eubber. " But 
you happen to be rignt for once." 

9. "I'm precious glad to gtt away from lhat 
maddening tet of chuckle-headed bores for a few 
weeks ! " said Clubber, as Mrs. C. unpacked him. 

Digitized by VjjOOOLC- 

yol» cm. 



[October 6, 1894. 


' J-st-n McC-rthy (reading extract from German Emperor's Speech). " ' I oak be vert disagreeable too, when I like.' Ah I so can 1 1 " 

October 6, 1894.] 



The Prime Minister has 
been haying a high old time 
of it lately in the North, and 
has become the " youngest 
burgess" of goodness knows 
how many ancient boroughs. 
But it has been left to a 
reporter to note with an eagle 
eye the really interesting per- 
formance which Lord Rose- 
bery has put to his credit. 
" Immediately on leaving 
Dornoch," says this gentle- 
man (the reporter, not the 
Premier), •'Lord Rosebery 
and the Duke of Sutherland 
drove to the Meikle Ferry, a 
distance of four miles, crossed 
the ferry, and again drove to 
Tain, four miles farther on. 
Crossing the ferry they both 
took a turn at the oars, and 
generally discussed the sport 
of seal shooting!" This sug- 
gests quite a fresh phase of the 
New Journalism. We shall 
soon read such paragraphs as 
the following : — 

"Sir William Harcotjrt 
left town for Malwood on 
Tuesday. Going down in the 
train the right hon. gentle- 
man played marbles with a 
fellow - passenger, and dis- 
cussed generally the virtues 
of resignation." 


Diffident Man (wlw does not know to how much of an Ingenue he is talking). 
Have you been out long, Miss Grace?" 

Miss Orate (consulting her wrist-strap). " Oh, about Three-quarters of 
an Hour. You see we werb~asked to come punctually." 

"Mr. H. H. Fowler tran- 
sacted important business at 
the India Offioe yesterday. 
He and his private secretary 
played a game of trundling 
hoops, and had an animated 
talk on the subject of whist" 

'• Mr. A. J. Balfour played 
at golf with a gentleman, with 
whom he had a very interest- 
ing conversation on the sport 
of chute shooting." 

The moral of which would 
seem to be that, since even 
conversation is now reported, 
silence is more golden than 
ever; though Mr. Punch 
notices that the Prime Min- 
ister showed rare diplomacy 
in his choice of a subject. 
Not even a reporter oould ex- 
tract any political meaning out 
of the sport of seal shooting ! 

Very Near.— The Record 
has been taking Mr. Hall 
Caine to task for the baptismal 
scene in The Manxman, and 
the novelist has been telling 
the Record to remember its 
Rubrics. " Mr. Caine," says 
the Record, "has been in a 
hurry." The Record lost a 
chance, as, evidently expecting 
a storm ox fury, it should have 
deprecated the author's [anger 
by saying, "Don't be in a 


Mr. J-st-n McC-rtht (reading the speech 
of the German Emperor to the Mayor of 
Thorn). ** For you know, I can be very dis- 
agreeable too ! " Ah! and so can I— when 
I Wee! 

{The Song of a Mouton Enrage*.) 

[" I own that I am worry that a louder, and a 
stronger, and a prompter note of reassurance has 
not been given to the Irish people with regard to 
this obstructive power of the House of Lords, and 
that I look to the Autumn Campaign with anxious 
hope for a clear and certain signal." — Mr. Justin 
McCarthy in the " New Review:'] 

Enraged (and enrhume) Leader, with his 
feet in " hot water ," sings .— 

Yes, I 'b wud with the vug Ebperor id this— 

Extreebs— as has beed ofted said— do beet ! 
( Wow ! this water, I declare, is od the hiss, 

Id is very hot iddeed to by poor feet ! ) 
By oowd is beastly troublesub. at tibes ; 

But, although I ab as palied as poor Sbike, 
I 'b bowd to kick whed suDwud galls by kibes ; 

Ad I cad be very darsty, whed I like ! 

Yug Williab fides it needful to speak out, 

Ad, like that Hebrew persod id the play, 
He cad be " very darsty/' there's no doubt ; 

Ad so cad I, of course id by owd way. 
A butt ad* s wudrous angry whed aroused. 

Ad if those Liberals sell be, I shall strike. 
Owd Oirelad has to freaquadly bid choused— 

Ad Pats cad be very darsty, whed they 

Bister Borlst we all dow, and he's all 

nm Adj Shaw-Lefevre 's sowd upod the goose ; 
Sir Williab " is a fighter "—will he fight F— 
Yng Rosebery— well, jokes are dot buch 
That Asquith 's dot a fastidatig bad, 
As hard as dails, plaid-spokud as a pike ! 

I wish agaidst the Lords they had sub 
Oh lead' be very darsty, whed I like. 

There bight have bid a protest stroff ad sterd, 

But do! they let the Peers, id sileds, 
Sir Williab dever said a dggle word 

Whed they kicked " Evioted Tedadst " frob 
their door. 
It bight have bid a local turdpike Bill. 

Or Act to regulate the Scorcher's " bike." 
I bust idsist oa " bizdess," ad I wiU % 

For I cad be very darsty, whed I like ! 

The Irish are begidded to have doubts 
(Ad Redbud, he is goid to give be beads). 
If "Ids" betray by Cudtry, there are 
Hobe Rule bust dot be shudted, like stale 
The Shabrock bust be shaked at those Peers ; 
Or BoCarthyites bay go upod the Strike !— 
Ad the Rads be chucked frob Office— yes, for 
years ! — 
Oh ! I cad be precious darsty — whed I like . 

In Nuce. 

The pith of Labbt's caustic elocution 
Is that long war of words should end io 
After the lead of the Leeds Resolution, 

He wants to feel that Resolution leads ! 
A House of Words but little help affords 
In a hot contest with a House of Lords. 
But Labbt, were the issue quite so glorious 
If— as some fear— the Lords should prove 
victorious F 


Orb might conclude from many a spindly 

Some read Are longa est as " Art is Lank" ! 


I 've heard a Frenchman wag his tongue 

Wi' unco din an' rattle, 
An\ 'faith, my vera lugs hae sung 

Wi' listenur tae his prattle ; 
But French is no the worst of a' 

In point o' noise an' clang, man ; 
There 's ane that beats it far awa', 

And that 's the Lunnon twang, man. 

You wadna think, within this land, 

That folk oould talk sae queerly. 
But, sure as Death, tae understand 

The callants beats me fairly. 
An', 'faith, 'tis little gude their schules 

Can teach them } as ye '11 see, man, 
For— wad ye credit it r— the f ules 

Can scarcely follow me, man. 

An' yet, tae gie the deils their due, 

(An' little praise they 're worth, man,) 
Thev seem tae ken, I kenna hoo. 

That I come frae the Nor-r-rth, man ! 
They maun be clever, for ye ken 

There 's nought tae tell the ohiels, man : 
I 'm jist like a the ither men 

That hail frae Galashiels, man. 

But oh ! I 'm fain tae see again 
The bonny hills an' heather ! 

Twa days, and ne'er a drap o' rain- 
Sic awfu' drouthy weather ! 

But eh ! I doubt the Gala boys 
Will laugh when hame I gang, man, 

For oo ! I'm awfu' feared my voice 
Has ta'en the Lunnon twang, man ! 

Demolition of Doctors' Commons). 

Sib Herbert Jennie Fust what would you 

To Doctors' Commons being done away ! I 

No wonder its machinery is rusty. I 

Since in your time at best it was trat Fusty I I 



[October 6, 1894. 


{A Story in Scenes.) 


Scene XXIII. — Outside the Stables at Wyvern. 
Time— About 10 p.m. 

I you 'd ha* done more rood, in my opinion, and it's my belief as Mr. 
| Ukdekshell here will tell you I 'm right. 

I Und. (to himself). Can't afford to offend the ooaohman ! {Aloud ) 
I WelL I daresay— er — embrocation would hare been better. 
I Adams. Ah t that's where me and Mr. Checklet differ. Aooord- 
; ing to me, it ain't to do with the shoulder at all — it 's a deal lower 
! down. ... I 'U 'aye him out of the box and yon '11 soon see what I 
1 mean. 
Under shell {to himself, as he follows Adams). Now is my time to | ' Und. {hastily). Pray don't trouble on my account. I — I can see 

arrange about getting away from here. (To Adams.) By the bye, him capitally from where I am, thanks. 

I suppose you can let me have a conveyance of some sort— after I T ve I Adams. You know best, Sir. Only I thought you 'd be better abla 

seen the horse P I— I 'm rather in a hurry. | to form a judgment after you 'd seen the way he stepped across. 
Adams. You 'd better speak to Mr. Checexey about that. Sir ; it But if you was to oome in and examine the frog r I don't like the 

ain't in my department, you see. I'll fetch him round, if* yon '11 look of it myself. 

wait here a minute; he'd like to hear what you think about the Und. {to himself). I'm sure J don't. I've a horror of reptiles. 

'orse. [He goes off to the coachman's quarters. {Aloud.) You 're very good. I— I think I won't come in. The place 

Und. {alone). A very ctol fellow this ; he seems quite anxious to must be rather damp, mustn't it—for that ? 

show me' this animal T There must be something very remarkable Adams. It's dry enough in 'tre, Sir, as you may see ; nor yet he 

about \t 

Adams. Mr. Check- 
leV, our 'ed coachman, 
Mr. Unpeeshell. 
He 's coming in along 
with us to 'ear what 
you say, if you've no 

Und. {to himself). I 
must make a friend of 
this coachman, or else 

{Aloud.) I shall 

be charmed, Mr. 
Checkxet. I 've only 
a very few minutes to 
spare; but I'm most 
mtriotn to see this horse 
of yours. 

1 •.» Vheckley. He ain't 
one o' my 'orses, Sir. 

If he W been Bat 

'.J-there^ I »d better say 
nothing about it. 

Adams (as he leads 
the way into the stables, 
and turns up the gas). 
There, Sir, that 's peer- 
foot over there in the 
loose box. 

Und. (to himself). 
He seems to me much 
like any other horse! 
However, I oan't be 
wrong in admiring. 
(Aloud, . as he inspects 
him through the rails.) 
Ah, indeed P he is worth 
seeing! A magniticent 

Adams (stripping off 
Deerfoot's clothing). 
He's a good 'orse, Sir. 
Her ladyship won't 
trust herself on no 
other animal, not since 
she 'ad the influenzy so 
bad. She'd take on 
dreadful if I 'ad to tell 

[Adams returns with Check ley. 

ain't been standing about in no wet. 

" You 've a tot to learn about navicular, you 'ave, if you can talk such rot as that ! " 

her he wouldn't be fit for no more work, she would) ! 

Und. (sympathetically). I can quite imagine so. Not that he seems 
in any danger of that ! 

Check, (triumphantly). There, you 'ear that, Adams P The 
minute he set eyes on the 'one I 

Adams. Wait till Mr. Undeeshell has seen him move a bit, and 
see what he says then. 

Check. If it was what you think, he'd never be'standing like he 
is now, depend upon it. 

Adams. You can't depend upon it. He 'eard us coming, and 
he 's quite artful enough to draw his foot back for fear o' getting a 
knock. (To Ukdekshell.) I 've noticed him very fidgety-like on 
his forelegs this last day or two. 

Und. Hare you, though? (To himself.) 1 hope he won't be 
fidgety with his AtW-legs. I shall stay outside. - - — 

Adams. I cooled him down with a rubub and aloes ball, and kep 
'im on low diet ; but he don't seem no better. 

Und. (to himself). I didn't gather the horse was unwell. (Aloud.) 
Dear me! no better? You don't say so ! 

Check. If you'd rubbed a little embrocation into the shoulder, 

Still, there it is, you see ! 

Und. (to himself). 
What a fool he must be 
not to drive it out ! Of 
course it must annoy 
the horse. (Aloud.) I 
don't see it ; but I 'm 
quite willing tj take 
your word for it. 

Adams. I don't know 
how you can expect to 
see it. Sir, without you 
look inside of the 'oof 
for it. 

Und. (to himself). 
It 's not alive — it *s 
something inside the 
hoof. I suppose I ought 
to have Known that 
(Aloud.) Just so; but 
I see no necessity for 
looking inside the hoof. 
Check. In course he 
don't, or he 'd ha' looked 
the very fust thing, 
with all his experience. 
I 'ope you're satisfied 
now, Adams ? 

Adams. I can't say 
as I am. 1 say as no 
man can examine a 
'orse thoroughly at that 
distance, be he who he 
mav. And whether I'm 
rignt or wroLg, it 'ud 
be more of a satisfaction 
to me if Mr. Ukder- 
sdell was to ttep in and 
see the 'oof for himfelf. 
Check. Well, there's 
sense in that, and I 
dessay Mr. Uxdershell 
won't object to obliging 
you that far. 

Und. (with reluct- 
ance). Oh, with plea- 
sure, if you make a 
point of it 
[He enters the loose box delicately. 
Adams (picking up one of the horse's feet). Now, tell me how 
this 'ere 'oof strikes you. 

Und. (to himself). That hoof can't; but I'm not so sure about 
the others. (Aloud, as he inspects it.) Well— er— it seems to me a 
very nice hoof. 

Adams (grimly). I was not arsking your opinion of it as a work of 
Art, Sir. Do you see any narrering coming on, or do you not? 
That 's what I should like to get out of you ! 

Und. (to himself). Does this man suppose I collect hoofs ! How- 
ever, I'm not going to commit myself. (Aloud,) H'm— well, I— 
I rather agree with Mr. Checklkt. 

Check. I knew he would ! Now you 've got it, Adams ! / can 
see Mr. Undeeshell knows what he's about. _ f 

Adams (persistently). But look at this 'ere pastern. Yuu cant 
deny there 's puffi ness there. How do you get over that t 

Jjrid. If the horse is puffy, it 's his business to get over it-;not mine. 

Adams (aggrieved). You may think proper to treat it light. Sir ; 

but if you put your 'and down 'ere, above the coronet, you 11 feel a 

throbbing as plain as- 

- ■ Digitized by VjOO vLVL — 

October 6, 1894.] 



Und. Very likely. But I don't know, really, that it would afford 
ie any particular gratification if I did ! 
Adams. Well, if you don't take my view, I should ha' thought as 

you 'd want to feel the 'orse*s puke. 

Und. You are quite mistaken. I don't. (To himself.) Particu- 
larly as I shouldn't know where to find it. What a bore this fellow 
is with his horse ! 

Check. In oourse, Sir, you see what 's running in Mr. Adams' 'ed 
all this time, what he 's a-drivinp at, eh P 

Und. (to himself). I only wish I did 1 This will require tact. 
[Aloud.) I— I could hardly avoid seeing that— could I P 

Check. I should think not. And it stands to reason as a vet like 
yourself 'd spot a thing like navickler fust go off. 

Und. (to himself). A vet ! - They 've been taking me for a vet all 
this time ! I can't have been so ignorant as I thought. I really 
don't like to undeceive them— they might feel annoyed. (Aloud, 
knowingly.) To be sure, I— I spotted it at once. 

Adams. He does make it out navicular after all 1 What did I tell 
you, Checkley P Now pYaps you '11 believe me / 

Check. I 'U be shot if that 'one has navickler, whoever says so— 

Adams (gloomily). It 's the one '11 'ave to be shot ; worse luck ! 
I'd ha' give something if Mr. Undershell could ha' shown I was 
wrong ; out there was very little doubt in my mind what it was all 

Und. (to himself horrified). I 've been pronouncing this unhappy 
animal's doom without knowing it 1 I must tone it down. {Aloud.) 
No— no, I never said he must be shot. There 's no reason to despair. 
It— it 's quite a mild form of er— clavicular— not at all infectious at 
present. And the horse has a splendid constitution. I — I really 
think he 'U soon be himself again, if we only — er— leave Mature to do 
her work, you know. 

Adams (after a prolonged whistle). Well, if Nature ain't better 
up in her work than you seem to be, it 's 'igh time she chucked it, 
and took to something else. You 've a lot to learn about navicular, 
you 'ave, if you can talk such rot as that ! 

Check. An, I 've 'ad to do with a vet or two in my time, but I 'm 
bleat if I ever come across the likes o' you afore ! 

Und. (to himself). I knew they 'd find me out ! I must pacify 
them. (Aloud.) but, look here, I 'm not a vet. I never said I was. 
It was your mistake entirely. The fact is, my— my good men, I 
came down here because— well, it 's unnecessary to explain now why 
I came. But I 'm most anxious to get away, and if you, my, dear Mr. 
Check let, could let me have a trap to take me to Shunt ingbridge 
to-night, I should feel extremely obliged. 

[Checkley stares, deprived of speech. 

Adams (with a private wink to Checkley). Certainly he will, 
Sir. I *m sure Checkley '11 feel proud to turn out, late as it is, 
to oblige a gentleman with your remarkable knowledge of 'one- 
flesh. Drive you over hisself in the broom and pair, I shouldn't 
wonder ! 

Und. One horse will be quite sufficient Very well, then. I '11 just 
run up and get my portmanteau, and— and one or two things of mine, 
and if you will be round at the back entrance— don't trouble to drive 
up to the front door— as soon as possible, I won't keep you waiting 
longer than I can help. Good evening, Mr. Adams, and many 
thanks. (To himself as he hurries back to the house.) I've got 
out of that rather well. Now, I've only to find my way to the 
Verney Chamber, see this fellow Spurrell, and get my clothes 
back, and then I can retreat with comfort, and even dignity ! These 
CuLVKRiirs shall learn that there is at least one poet who will not put 
up with their insolent patronage ! 

Check, (to Adams). He has got a oool cheek, and no mistake! 
But if he waits to be druv over to Shuntingbridge till I oome round 
for him, he '11 'ave to set on that portmanteau of his a goodish 

Adams. He did you pretty brown, I must say. To 'ear you crow- 
ing over me when he was on your side. I oould 'ardly keep from 

Check. I see he warn't no vet long afore you, but I let it go on for 
the joke of it. It was rich to see you a wanting him to feel the 'oof, 
and give it out navickler. Well, you got his opinion for what it was 
wuth, so you 're all right ! 

Adams. You think nobody knows anything about 'orses but your- 
self, you do ; but if you 're meanin* to make a story out o this 
against me, why, I shall tell it my way, that's all ! 

Check. It was you he made a fool of, not me— and I can prove it 
—there ! 

[They dispute the pointy with rising warmth, for some time. 

Adams (calming down). Well, see 'ere, Checkley, I dunno, come 
to think of it, as either on us '11 show up partickler smart over this 
'ere job ; and it strikes me we 'd better both agree to keep quiet 
about ft, ch P (Checkley acquiesces, not unwillingly.) And I think 
I 'u take a look in at the 'Onsekeepers Room presently, and try if 
I can't drop a hint to old Tredwell about that smooth-tongued 
chap, for it's my belief he ain't down 'ere for no good ! 


"Aha!" a moth? the Baron, "This book of 'Master Staitlit 
Weymait'b, called Under tl& lied Robe, delighteth me much. A 
stirring atory of Ewashhuokters. pistols, -daggers, conspirators, gay 
gallants, and gentle dames! Rrcitrng 
from first to lait, and all in one vol tune, 
whic h," beshrew me, by my hilts!" 
quoth the Baron, "the reader, be he 
who he may, will find easy to take up, 
and most difficult to put down, until 
quite finished, 7 Tis published b? one 
MfcrnrEN, of London, whose house 
Cavalier Weyman hath favoured more 
than once ere he wrote this stirring 
romance." Towards the finish there is 
a spice of Bulwer Lyttqn 1 * drama 
Itic h elieu,— indeed the last situation 
in this tale h almost one with the 
action of the scene in the play where 
Richelieu brings the lovers together. 
Yet is this but a mere detail, and those 
who follow the Baron's literary tips will 
do well and wise!? to read Under the Med 
Robe. By the way, Mr. Caton Woodville's illustrations to the story 
are excellent, having the rare merit of assisting the action without 
revealing the plot. " Catos, thou pictureth well" 

Within the limits of a hundred pages Lord Dufferi* has given 
the world a picture it will not willingly let die. It is a portrait of 
his mother, one of the sweetest, most beautiful, most accomplished, 
wittiest, most loving and lovable human beings that ever walked 
upon the earth." This, as my Baronite says, is the superlative of 
praise, and it might reasonably be suspected that filial feeling has 
warped critical acumen. But nere in this volume of Songs, Poems, 
ana Verses (John Murray) we have Lady Dufferin though dead 
yet speaking, and may judge for ourselves. It is characteristic of 
her son that, whilst on the first page the above title is boldly set 
forth in laijre rnddy-hued type, a smaller line lower down, in 
plain black ink, refers to the Memoir." In its felicity of literary 
style, its dear touches of characterisation, and its flashes of quiet 
humour, this monograph is a masterpiece. It fittingly frames 
the extract from the journal commenced by Lady Dufferin when 
she felt the hand of death gripping her. This fragment is prose 
worthy of the author of The Irish ^Emigrant, whose simple pathos 
has stirred the heart on both sides of the Atlantic. Within the 
brief limits he has assigned to himself, Lord Dufferin manages 
to give a succinct account of the illustrious family of which Helen, 
Lady Dufferin, was a bright, particular star. It would be difficult 
to parallel the sustained brilliancy of the Sheredans, from Richard 
Brdtsley down to his great-great-grandson, at present Her 
Majesty's Minister at Pans. To the possession of all the graces 
they have added display of all the talents. It is hard to live up to 
the literary standard of the Sherldans. In this delightful volume 
Lord Dufferin shows that the marvel was accomplished by his 
mother, and is possible for himself. 

My Baronite has made an attempt to read Lourdes in the con- 
venient shape in which Messrs. Chatto and Windus present it to 
the English-speaking public. He honestly admits that, finding 
on a rapid glance through its pages the first chapter was a fair 
sample of the bulk, he gave it up. M. Zola has avowedly set him- 
self the task of minutely describing the pitiful experience of the halt, 
the lame, the blind, and much worse, wno journey to Lourdes in the 
desperate hope of miraculous recovery. He may at least be con- 
gratulated on having achieved his object. Only, the report with all 
its horrible detail would more fittingly have appeared in the pages of 
the Lancet or the British Medical Journal. Since it has been pub- 
lished in book form realism should have been carried one step 
further. The volume ought to have been bound in a poultice instead 
of ordinary cloth. As it is, the leaves turned over fill the room with 
faint, sickening smell of the hospital ward. Lourdes is certainly not 
alluring. It is, in truth, lourd — et sale aussi. 

Once again, for the benefit of all brother- scribes who, for a while, 
or frequently, may have to do their scribbling when journeying, or 
while compelled by illness to remain in Bedford-under-Clothes,— as 
was but recently the case with your own Baronius, pains and 
counterpanes all over him,— the use of ** The Hairless Author's 
Paper-pad," i.e. " The Author's Hairless Paper-pad" issued by 
the Leadenhall Press, on which the author can write with pencil or 
with pen, — for the blotter is handily placed at the back of the pad, 
—is strongly recommended by the Ready Writer's and Ready 
Reader's best friend, 

The blameless Baron be Book- Worms. 

Mem. by ah Old Maid.— 
won't find anyone else willing 

•If yon '* look over 
to do the same. 

tgyuurttge ' - 



[Ooiobxb 6, 1894 


He. " Isn't that Mbs. Gatly bitting bt Thompson ! How Fat shb 'b okown 1 
Liu that I" She. "Oh— you should not sat that to Mm I" 

He. "Why not! Of cottbsb I onlt meant whin thb Woman is youxq!" 


What a misfortune for a Woman to look 


Or, an Ex-RadicaC$ Reflections in a Peer-Glass. 

[" I lay that I, at any rate, am ready to new 
with favour any reasonable proposal which would 
add an elective element to the composition of the 
House of Lords, which would bring them into 
closer touch with popular sentiment." — Mr. 
Chamberlain at Leeds {Times 9 Report)."] 

" Thby tail not, neither do they spin "— 

Aught bat occasional orations ! 
Ah! that was in my days of sin. 

How time has altered our relations 
Yes, I teas down upon the Lords. 

When I compared them with the lilies : 
New Bads remind me of my words : 

But then New Rads are all old sillies. 

How dare they, dupes of Gladstone's guile, 

Poor Party tools, mere flies in amber, 
To imitate my earlier style* 

And rave against a Second Chamber ? 
And do they think to corner me 

By mere tu quoque and quotation P 
A gift of ready repartee 

Secures such easy extrication. 

I worship what I wished to burn P— 

The jeer is really most unhandsome ! 
For things have taken quite a turn 

Since I ran rather wild on Ransom. 
The House of Lords is our sole hope, 

Sheet-anchor, lighthouse, rogis, haven ; 
The only power which can cope 

With theNewRad— that nervelessoraven! 

A Single Chamber means the sway 

Of the majority— most nhnnlring ! — 
With no devices of delay, 
Progress impeding, freedom mooring— 

Hold hard ! I 'm quoting— from myself !— 
Of Commoners a mere majority 

Means rule of party, passion, pelt. 
Which in the Peers have no authority. 

Non-representative, but nice, 

The Peers are patriots, heroes, sages 
Class-selliahness is not their vice ; 

They haste not, don't get into rages. 
To a majority of them \ 

We safely may entrust our freedom. 
But mere M.P.'s P With venal phlegm 

They 'd sell it— for the mess of Edom 

Mesopotamia— blessed word ! — 

Than the word " Peer " is far less blessed ! 
Mere Commoners are crass, absurd. 

Foolish as Creon, false as Cressid. 
To trust to an elected mob 

Our Glorious Empire, were sheer treason ; 
But dukes and earls may do the job. 

For a Peer's robe must cover reason. 

Still an ' ' elective element " 

Perhaps might brinf their * ' composition" 
11 In touch with popular sentiment," 

And hush the nowlinfs of sedition. 
To pick the best and brightest stars 

From oourt and college, bench and plat- 
form, . 
Miarht still some poletariat jars.— 

Hah ! how should I appear in that form? 

Of course, a robe and coronet 

Would never make me turn a Tory, 
Like— well, so many. Now 1 '11 bet 

King Solomon in all his glory 
Was not arrayed— tut ! tut !— no more 

I 'd like them to forget those lilies, 
- These quoted bits are such a bore, — 
Unless they're that old " tonguester *' 

Experimentum in— well, no ! 

The context is not very flattering, 
(How seldom my quotations go ! 
There are some drawbacks in mere 
But if the " elective element " 
Would Peers improve, as not, "a few 
I might— some day— who knows P — consent 
To show them now— well, what do you 

Written upon hearing that Mr. Gladstones 
enforced rest is lightened by the reading 
aloud of relays of Devoted Friends, 
Mighty- voiced Milton, whose unmurmur- 
ing song 
Rolls yet in organ tones round his loved 

Its saddest strain, with high endurance 

Unconquerably serene, sublimely strong ; 
Sing in our Statesman's ears ! Great Homes, 
His " friend, in youth, in manhood, and in 

Let thy charmed splendours, and thy coun- 
sels sage, 
Calm his large energies to line content 
Be Milton's patience his ! " God doth not 
Either man's work, or his own gifts ' —so 
rang [Slate 

The heroic high reply. But the whole 
Wishes its tireless servitor " God speed ! " 
light in his darkness, hope to illume his 
rest! ^* * t 

• 4 They also serve who only stand andnvaii 


SwM.'tf 4c 



AND NON-HEEEDITARY PLAN ." (Leeds, September 25.) 

Digitized by 


October 6, 1894.] 




IV.— To Julia in Shooting Togs 
{and a Herrickose vein). 

When as to shoot my Julia roes, 
Then, then, (methinks) how oravely 

That rare arrangement of her clothes ! 

So shod as when the Huntress Maid 
With thumping buskin bruised the 

She moveth, making earth afraid. 

Against the sting of random chaff 
Her leathern gaiters circle half 
The arduous crescent of her calf. 

Unto th' occasion timely fit. 

My love's attire doth show ner wit, 

And of her legs a little bit. 

Sorely it sticketh in my throat, 
She having nowhere to bestow 't, 
To name the absent petticoat. 

In lieu whereof a wanton pair 
Of knickerbockers she doth wear, 
Full windy and with space to spare. 

Enlarged by the bellying breeze, 
Lord ! how they playfully do ease 
The urgent knocking of her knees ! 

Lengthways curtailed to her taste 
A tunic circumvents her waist, 
And soothly it is passing chaste. 

Upon her head she hath a gear 
Even such as wights of ruddy cheer 
Do use in stalking of the deer. 

Haply her truant tresses mock 
Some coronal of shapelier block, 
To wit, the bounding billy-cook. 

Withal she hath a loaded gun, 
Whereat the pheasants, as they run, 
Do make a fair diversion. 

For very awe, if so she shoots, 
My hair upriseth from the roots, 
And lo ! I tremble in my boots ! 

A Ssfr PfiRDicno*.— That the 
New Woman of this decade will be 
the Old Maid of the next. 




[Mr. St. Lob Strachby has written an 
article in the Nineteenth Century, entitled, 
" The Seven Lord Roseberias."] 

Parliament's a stage, 
And, Peers or Commoners, they are 

merely players : 
They have their exits and their 

entrances, [parts, 

And one Peer in his time plays many 
His acts being seven stages. First 

the Home-Ruler, 
Mewling and puking in Nurse Glad- 
stone's arms ; 
And then the Union 8cho»lboy, 

with his satchel, 
And smooth-cut morning face, creep- 
in? like snail 
Unwilling to J oe's school. A nd then 

the Boss, 
Working like nigger, with a dithy- 

rambio [So -ialist, 

Made to the County Council. Then a 
Full of strange aims, bearded like 

Bebnard Shaw, 
Jealous of Ground Rents, quick with 

Land to quarrel, fment, 

Seeking the fleeting bubble, Better- 
E'en at Monopoly's mouth. A nd i hen 

the Premier, 
High abjve Party* with a pleasant 

joke [claims ; 

On the predominant partner and his 
Fall of light jests and modern mng- 

wumpisms ; 
And so he plays his part. The sixth 

age shifts 
Into the smooth- cheeked, inexpressive 

Sphiox [side, 

With finger at her nose's knowing 
Dizzt*8 old pose well mimicked, 

44 cute "and "wide," 
With a cold eye and an oracular 

Which, tuned to cynic lightness, 

puzzles muoh [all. 

The Radicil (Edipus. Last sotne of 
That ends this strange eventful 

Newmarket Rosbbery, Ladas- owner, 

Sans grit, sans nous, sans go, sans 

everything ! 


( With Apologies to the Author of " Another Woman's Eyes" in the 

" Illustrated News.") 

Beautiful ears, indeed, beautiful ears ! 

(She must be growing blind to think them fine !) 
Had you been wiser in those by-gone years, 

They might have— heard the lectures lost on mine. 
I only wish they had ! (Bat no, no, no ; 

I 'd rather list long nights to Caudle- shine, 
Than let those beautiful ears— she calls them so— 

List some " soft nothings " murmured into mine !) 


(A Suggestion not necessarily Founded upon Fads.) 

8CKRB—The Interior of a Police Court: a case is in course of 
disposal. The Magistrate has made up his mind to deal sum- 
marily in the matter. 

Magistrate. And so you sav that the prisoner has a bad record ? 

Policeman X. A very baa one, your Worship. We have strong 
reasons for believing that he has been in every prison in the king- 
dom for crimes of varying gravity. 

Magistrate. By the new anthropometrioal system, you can identify 
him P 

Policeman X. Certainly. I have here certificates from no less 
than two hundred gaol governors declaring his hair to be 'the colour 
of pea-green. 

Magistrate. And I notice the prisoner has hair of that peculiar 

Policeman X. Certainly, your worship ; and on that account I claim 
that you impose upon this man the heaviest punishment within your 

Magistrate. And now prisoner what have you to say P 

Prisoner. Merely this, that the man who last night broke into the 
jeweller's shop was not myself but another. I had nought to do 
with the crime. The constable has sworn that the caitiff had 
pea-green hair. Now I have not pea-green hair ; my locks are 

Magistrate. Assertion is not proof. By the anthropometrioal 
system we can spot you. Look at yourself in the glass and you will 
see that your hair is pea-green. 

Prisoner. You are wrong, Sir. You see my curia are of raven 
black. (Removes his wig.) Am I not right P Am I not entitled to 

Magistrate. Certainly. Officers, do your du'y. Release your 
prisoner ! 

[ The accused is liberated, and, in the company of some trusted 
pah, leaves the Court without a stain upon his character, 
and with the intention of doing a little mure burgling before 
he is many hours older. Curtain. 

On reading a " Smart" Novel. 

Heavy moralities, d la Sarah Grand, 

Are tedious oft, and trivial to boot ; 
But some who write of Vice with a 44 a light hand," 

Merit the impact of a heavy foot O V 1 



[Octobkb 6, 1894. 

Digitized bv 


October 6, 1894.] 




My peerless but progressive Fair, 

To you my heart I proffer. 
Time was when one knew where 
yon were, 

And how to make an offer. 
Now, all too swiftly yon advance 

For Damon to pursue yon. 
Take pity on his ignorance, 

Ana tell him how to woo yon ! 

If strong on Woman's Bights yon 
- are, 

Upon her wrongs 1 '11 ponder : 
I '11 win for you a Wander jahr % 

If I with you may wander. 
Or does Humanity enthrall P 

Before the summer passes 
I '11 run a moral Music Hall 

To renovate the Masses. 

Say, shall I write to you in verse 

Of metre strange and frantic, 
'Which by neglect of barriers 

Proves genius gigantic P 
Is modern fiction dear to yon ? 

In scandal while I grovel, 
I will endeavour to outdo 

Its most pernicious novel ! 

Beloved, of which patent creed 

Shall I uplift the banner P 
By telepathy shall I plead. 

Or in the usual manner r 
If after Occult Truth you grope. 

Though now 1 'm no Mahatma, 
From earthly bonds I yet might 
hope — 

For yon— to free my Atma ! 
Shall I by Geomanoy show 

Tour lot and mine united, 
The sign of Acquisitio 

Foretelling love requited P 
Or shall I from the planets prove 

That long before I knew you 
Our fates were linked P My 
modern love, 

Oh, tell me how to woo yon ! 


NOW f " 

He. "Oh, J haven't changed mt Name. It 's She, tou know !" 


(By a Well-Plucked One.) 

When chapel bells rang far and 

Why did I turn upon my side, 
Andsweetly back to slumber glideP 
I wonder ! 

When zephyrs wafted on their way 
The fragrance ok the new-mown 

Why did I out m lectures, oh P 
I wonder! 

Why did I moor my punt afar, 
With claret-cup and choice cigar, 
Instead of reading for the Bar P 
I wonder! 

Why did the Proctors always 

On meeting me without a gown, 
And ultimately send me down P 
I wonder ! 

Why did the Dons all disagree 
With my pet views on equity. 
And plough me for my LL.B. P 
I wonder! 

Why am I now in chambers bare, 
With nothing much but debts to 

I wonder ! 

Why do no clients seek my door 
To profit by my legal lore r 
Will it be thus for evermore ? 
I wonder ! 

The New Fashion. 

The fashion in hair 

The ladies now wear 
Never can last I '11 engage : 

For though, pretty dears, 

It hideth their ears, 
It addeth some years to their age. 


(A Fragment from the Romance of the Near Future.) 

He had waited up until two in the morning. He had watched the 
hands of the clock as they passed round the face from hour to hour. 
He had put a cloth over the supper, knowing, however, that the 
meat would be disregarded, and only the brandy and soda-water 
touched by the expected one. The poor man gazed sadly at the 
children's toys, the tradesmen's books that were beside him. 

" Not home yet," he murmured. "Ah, those dinners at the club ! " 

Then he considered his past life. He remembered his wedding- 
day, when it seemed so bright and fair. He was a happy husband, 
with every prospect of a long life of wedded bliss. He loved and 
respected his wife, and felt that side by side they could travel along 
the road of existence without a rock to arrest their progress, without 
a discordant note to spoil the harmony of their song, until that sonr 
had ceased its music in the hush of silence. Tears, suppressed until 
now, flooded his eyes as he remembered the waning of the honey- 
moon. He recollected the anxiety of Alice to get back to town, to 
be off into the City. Of course he could not follow his wife into ner 
business haunts ; it would be immodest— nay, even improper. Still, 
be had been treated kindly, in a rough, condescending sort of way. 
He had had a Brougham, and had been allowed to visit his gentle- 
men friends. He had plenty of chats, and occasionally Alice had 
aoosmpanied him round the park. Then he had seen a good deal 
of his ohildren. His daughter, however, had now gone to school, and 
his sons were always with their nursery tutor. The dock struok 
once again. " Three, and not home yet r' 

Early morning was breaking. The poor man, pale and careworn, 
re-arranged his necktie, and putting on an extra overcoat, prepared 
once more to resume the reading of a novel that had been attracting 
his attention earlier in the evening. It was called " Bobby," ana 
related the adventures of a wild, thoughtless man, who was setting 
the laws of society at open defiance. 

" How can men write of men like this P " he murmured. "lam 
not surprised that women think badly of us when we thus paint our- 

selves. Visiting a music-hall with his female cousin! Going to 
the Zoological Gardens unattended! Oh, Bobbt, Bobbt, what a 
creation V ' Then he started. There was a noise at the street-door, 
and the sound of scraping on the outside as if a latch-key were vainly 
seeking the key-hole. Then the portal slowly opened and a cloaked 
figure lurched rather than walked in. 

'• Oh Alice ! " cried the frightened husband, wringing his hands 
in dismay. " Is there anything the matter ? " 

" Nothing, absolutely nothing," was the indistinct reply. " Fact is 
I don't think the salmon " 

And then the new-comer enttrel the dining-room, and there was 
the sound of the effervescence of soda-water. 

The poor husband sighed, mournfully turned off the gas, and went 
quietly to bed. 

" On wife," murmured the aggrieved husband, as he mounted the 
stairs, " you cannot help bringing woe to man, fer unless you did 
so you would not be a woe-man. 

And bursting into tears at this sad pleasantry, the poor chap 
disappeared into the darkness. 


Dear Sir,— May I draw your attention to a series of domestic 
occurrences which illustrate the distressing and increasing tendency 
of thiBftn-de-siecle age P I say fin-de-*iecle because as it has got to 
come in somehow, it may as well be said at once. At breakfast yes- 
terday the bacon was wretchedly oookedi My wife said, " It's the 
fault of the New Cook," which was all the satisfaction or explanation 
that I got. I found my study disguised in an apparent tidiness, 
achieved at the cost of a complete confusion of my papers, which had 
been tidied away in a manner that completely defied detection. My 
wife only answered, " Oh, it 's that New Housemaid." That night 
we went to the theatre. The name of the play was The New Woman, 
Then I understood the true inwardness of all my previous expert 
enoes. The moral is so dear that I do not propose to draw any. 

The Cedare, Sept 29. Notta Nswicak. 



[October 6, 1894. 


Dearest Mabjorie,— It is really quite time you gave me some 
more of your valuable advice. Thanks to you, I was not such an 
utter failure in my first season as I expected. After a month at 
home (my people loathe the new way I do my hair, and it seemed, I 
am ashamed to say, a little dull there), I have come to stay again 
with the Lyon Taymers at their country house. 

You remember I refused the man who 
did conj uring tricks ? He has written to 
me since to say he sees now how right I 
was— rather crushing ! I also fully w- 
tended to refuse Captain Mashington. 
But he went to Dinard without giving me 
the opportunity, and I hear he has been 
playing tennis there the whole day with 
Mrs. Lorne Hopper. I am sure I hone 
he enjoyed it. She is what you or I would 
consider rather old, but is said to be per- 
fectly charming, and of course looks 
fifteen years younger than her youngest 

It seems rather strange, doesn't it, 
Mabjorie, that after being so wonderfully 
sensible all the season, I should suddenly 
do something quite idiotic in September? 
However. I nave ; and I want you to help 
me out oi it. I '11 tell you aU f if you 'U 
promise not to laugh. When I first came, I was * ' thrown,'' as people 
say, a good deal with the Taymer's nephew— Oriel Champion who 
has just left Oxford. I was told he was very serious, rather shy. 
philanthropic, and has " views" ; also that he had done a treat deal 
of good in tne West End. This interested me, and I tried to draw 
him out. They had omitted to mention that he was dreadfully sus- 
ceptible. We talked for hours in the garden, nearly all the time— 
at first— about the housing of the rich and horrible cases of over- 
crowding—at London parties. He was very earnest and ascetic (he 
never drinks anything out hot water, and doesn't smoke) ; he lent me 
books-^he is rather handsome— and— gradually— somehow I found I 
had drifted into an absurd sort of private half-engagement ! Yes — 
I have actually a bangle rivetted on — with a date inside— the date I 

was insane enough to agree Isn't it dreadful ? 

Ortel will be well on, but he intends to spend all his money on 
founding: model slums, where the people are to be teetotallers and do 
bootmaking or something, and be a happy little colony. Oriel's 
views may necessitate his doing a little cobbling himself— just to set 
an example. 1 was enormously impressed by this at first ; but I am 
afraid 1 have become frivolous again. Some other people have come 
here, including a nice boy they call Baby Beaumont. He is 
really almost nineteen, but wonderfully well preserved, very clever, 
and so cynical that he is quite an optimist. Almost directly, he 
asked me how long I had known Oriel Crampton. I said about a 
fortnight. "Ah! then you must be engaged to him. Poor old 
Oriel ! He 's really quite extraordinarily old-fashioned." 
" How old is he P " I asked, in faltering tones. 
" He has rather a way of pretending to be young, I fancy. But he 
must be four-and-twenty if he is a day. You need not say I told vou." 
It 's evidently the fashion to be very young—for men, at least. 
Sometimes I wish it were the fashion to be old enough to know 
better. If Oriel really has been engaged before, and may be again, 
and if getting engaged to people is only a sort of habit of his, perhaps 
he would not mind so very muoh if I were to break it off. 

Baby Beaumont is (he says himself) "frankly Pagan." He 
thinks Oriel too serious for me, and advises me to marry at leisure, 
as I am quite sure, anyhow, to repent in haste. He wanted to send 
a paragraph to the Post to say " A marriage has been arranged, and 
wul shortly be broken off, between Mr. Oriel Crampton and Miss 
Gladys Mayfield, younger daughter," and so on. 

Last night, when we were playing games, Oriel went out while we 
thought of a word, and he got quite anirxy with me because I bad said 
the moon was " vegetable "and he said it was " mineral." He may 
be right, or he may not— I daresay he is— but still he need not be 
touchy, and refuse to play any more, and sulk all the evening. 

I am afraid I should not be happy with him. He collects postage 
stamps, too, which depresses me dreadfully. 

Please write and tell me what to do— or rather, how to do it. Can 
one get a bangle rivetted offt . . . I have just heard that the Lorne 
Hoppers ana Captain Mashington are coming to play tennis on 
Sunday ! Of course, I shall show absolute indifference. I wired at 
once to town for my new dress. Mrs. Hopper may as well see it. 

Baby Beaumont is always changing his clothes, and has two 
button-holes sent down from London dady. He says he "intends to 
revive the gardenia." . . . Oriel has just gone out for a " brisk 
walk before dinner." Aren't we utterly unsuited to each other ? 
Your loving friend, Gladys. 

P.S. — Is the moon mineral P 

«& k 


Capital £100,000,000, in 20,000,000 Shares op £5 each. 

This Company has been formed to acquire, combine into one, and 
carry on the various old-established businesses of literary reviewing 
hitherto carried on separately by Messrs. Andrrw Lang (who will 
join the Board after allotment), Grant Allen, W. E. Gladstone, 
H. D. Traill, T. P. O'Connor, Walter Besant, Elkin 
Mathews, John Lane, Q., A.T.Q.C., Quiller Couch, Richard 
Le Galuenne, and others. All these gentlemen have oonsented to act 
as Directors. The advantages of the scheme 
are obvious. Hitherto critical opinion, as 
printed in the daily, weekly, and monthly 
press, has been so diversified as to make it 
impossible for the public to form a settled 
judgment on books. For instance, a work 
may be described in one place as " possess- 
ing in the highest degree the master quali- 
ties 'of brilliant humour and profound 
Bithos " ; while, in another notice, pub- 
shed on the same day, it may be con- 
demned as " an essay in stupid buffoonery, 
which mistakes inversion for paradox, and 
makes a parade of sentiment as laughable 
as its efforts at humour are melancholy." 
It is the intention of the Directors to 
change all this. Frequent Board-Meetings will be held, at which all 
books sent for review will be 'carefully considered, with a view to 
deciding how they shall be treated. The decisions thus come to will 
be carried out in a series of . articles extending with absolute uni- 
formity over the whole field of contemporary literature. 


The profits of the business to be thus carried on must be gigantic 
After a careful inspection of the books of all British newspapers the 
well-known accountants Messrs. Leoer and Balxancb have in- 
formed the Directors that the gains of these papers from reviewing 
and literary gossip alone amount to £10,632,009 125. Id. annually. As 
these papers will henceforth, on their literary side, be worked by the 
Directors with all the latest improvements, even larger gains may be 
looked for in the immediate future. 


This department will be managed by a paragraphist of unrivalled 
experience, who will have under his orders a large staff of skilled 
assistants thoroughly instructed in the use of the new patent 
mitrailleuse Boomerangs, ten of which will be fixed in the chief office 
of the Company at No. 1, Log Rolls Yard. Literary shareholders to 
the amount of £500 and upwards will be entitled to a preferential 
boom by way of bonus. 


For this style of reviewing a separate department has been estab- 
lished, under the joint management of three well-known literary 
failures, Messrs. Scribley, Fibley and Gliblet. By a careful 
imitation of the worst models, and by assiduously cultivating their 
own natural coarseness, the managers anticipate very remarkable 
results. Style will be no object, but every worker in this depart- 
ment will be expected to provide his own rhinoceros hide and stock of 
allusions to It ab el us. All holders of less than three shares will come 
under the operation of this department. The Company intend shortly, 
however, to issue £10 debentures, the owners of which will be per- 
mitted once a year to ballot for the privilege of reviewing the book of 
one of their friends. 

insurance scheme. 

The Directors propose to organise a scheme of insurance against 
hostile reviews and obdurate editors. For an annual payment of £24 
an insurer will be entitled to one favourable review during the year ; 
for £30 he will be absolutely guaranteed against unfavourable 
criticism. A small yearly payment, varying according to age, will en- 
title his widow to claim £1000 at his death upon furnishing a certifi- 
cate, signed by Mr. Besant and the family doctor, that he died after 
reading an unfavourable notioe of one of his books. All literary men, 
however, are reoommended to subscribe £30 a year, thus obtaining a 
life-long immunity from depreciation. 


This will be known as the " George Department," and will be con- 
trolled by four new women of advanced views. Cigarettes, latch- 
keys, and a summary of divorce court proceedings will be kept on the 
premises. Novels turned out while you wait. Mrs. Lynn Linton 
will not be admitted during office hours. 

Something New in the Drama.— Mr. Henry Irving, it appears, 
has made a great hit in a one-part pieoe written by Dr. Conan 
Doyle, entitled A Story of Waterloo. Probably Mr. J. L. Tool* 
will follow it up with A Story of Brandy -and- Waterloo % in which 
our cheerful comedian will appear as a regular Wetter 'un. 

October 13, 1894.] 




Dkuriolanus has scored another success. And why not P Surely 
he deserves it, for, with the assistance of his two collaborators, Cecil 
BAI.SI6H and Henry Hamtlton, Sir Augustus Harris has trained 

" Three to One on." 

a Derby winner that will carry all before him over the Drury Lane 
course until the place is required for the pantomime. And the train- 
ing has been most judicious. The problem the three 
stable companions (for the piece is nothing if not 
horsey) set themselves was to produce a drama that 
would fill the Grand National Theatre both before and 
behind the curtain. This problem they have solved 
to the satisfaction of all parties. 

The method adopted is simple enough. Take, for 
instance, the First Act. One of the authors no doubt 
suggested the interior of a country house. " Quite 
so, says Druriolanus, *'a nobleman's country house. 
I will show you how to do it." And he does. " 
Todgers y 8 can do it when it likes ! " Gorgeous hall 
with a billiard table thrown in at the back to give 
an idea of the luxury and magnitude. And then the 
company! Earls and Countesses and Lords and 
Ladies and a Duchess! Why, even the villain is a 
major in a crack cavalry regiment, and the low 
comedian a surgeon who has worn the Queen's uni- 
form. Apparently to give the latter additional aris- 
tocratic gloss, the Duchess is made to be in love with 
him. And the plot? Why. of course. Let Miss 
Alma Stanley arrive direot from India to sow dis- 
cord between my Lord the hero and my Lady the 
heroine. This she does, looking charming in her 
villainy, and wearing a striking costume. My Lord 
tells her " to begone' 1 (a most unreasonable reguest, 
by the way, as she has arrived at the Hall in the 
middle of the night, with evidently any number of 
boxes), but she won't. Miss Alma Stanley prefers to faint in 
my Lord's arms, to the great indignation of my Lady. Tableau 
and curtain. 

Next, please. The Downs, and a trial of the 'osses. Then we 
have a meet of horses, saddle and otherwise. The " otherwise" are 
harnessed to a pony-chaise that looks as if it had come from the 
Lowther Arcade. Miss Alma Stanley rides in on a steed of her 
own. My Lord, the hero, objects to the gracious presence of this fair 
equestrian, and gets a horse-whipping for his trouble. Then the 
trial comes off. The noble animals canter across the stage. The 
dramatis persona describe their progress to one another as they make 
the running behind the scenes. All first-rate and life-like. Haven't 
we seen it ourselves in the early morn P Then they reappear (amidst 
immense enthusiasm) as cardboard profile in the distance, to make 
a final entry in the horseflesh from the 0. P. wings. Capitally done, 
and a great success. Stalls, Circle, Pit, Boxes, and Gallery, all de- 
lighted. So are they with the mili ta ry ball at York. Nearly everybody 
in uniform. Hussars, Gunners, Highlanders, Fusileers, and Yeomen. 
My Lord the hero appears as Colonel of his county Yeomanry. Quite 
right, he has left the service, and taken to the reserve. Then there 
is the cotillion, and my Lord finds himself, to his surprise, dancing 
with Miss Alma. Stanley. He is again caught by my Lady, the 
heroine (the poor chap is always compromising himself at the wrong 
moment), and there is of course only one solution, to this embar- 
rassing situation, and that is, — curtain. No better ball scene been on 
the stage for years. Druriolanus has all the details at bis finger- 
tips, and the ball at his feet. Keep it rolling ! 

In the next Act we find that the Countess, in full ball costume, 
has eloped with the Villainous Major to a hotel. My Lady has 
allowed her companion to describe themselves as Mr. and Mrs. 
So-and-8o in the porter's book. But thus far and no farther. When 
the Major politely begs the loan of her heart, the Countess bids him 
go, and treats him really with absolute rudeness. The Major, 
after a terrible struggle with my Lady, in which he gets the worst of 
it, is completely crushed, and probably inwardly laments the very 
considerable expense to which he must have been put by the elope- 
ment. At this crisis enter my Lord the hero. Row and tableau. 
After this, the audience feels that the correct prescription is to cut 
the dialogue and come to the * 4 'osses." And to a great extent this 
prescription is adopted. There is a first-class scene of a sale at 
TattersaU's, and a very realistic view of the finish at the Derby. The 
throng cheer behind the curtain, and so does the throng in front of it. 
The task is complete : both sides of the green baize are crowded with 
excited people. 

It is exceptionally good. Scenery, music, general stage manage- 
ment, and incidental music all excellent. Mrs. Johh Wood first- 
rate, as good as ever, and Miss Alma Stanley greatly distinguishes 
herself. So does Mr. Cartwbight as the most matter-of-fact villain 
that " in this distressful country has ever yet been seen." When 
he murders, or ruins, or seriously inconveniences anyone, he observes 
sotto voce to himself, in a tone that would be equally appropriate 
were he thanking an omnibus conductor for giving him change 
for sixpence, ' " I thought I should do it." Then Mr. Abthur 
Boubchter and Miss Beatrice Lamb as My Lord and My Lady 
could not be better. And Miss Pattie Browne, Miss L. Moodib, 
and Miss Hettie Dene, all the right people in the right places, as 
are both Mr. Gkobge Glddi ns and Mr. Lionel Rignold. To sum 
up, The Derby Winner has won, and Sir Drubiolanus has more 


than satisfied his enthusiastic backers the public, and he and they 
will have a real good run for their money. 


[" Sarah Grand has contributed an article on ' Should irascible Old Gen- 
tlemen be taught to Knit ? ' to the forthcoming issue of * Phil May** 
Winter Annual.* "—Evening paper, October 2.] 

This will shortlv be followed by a series of papers on the following 
subjects :—" Shall hysterical Old Ladies be encouraged to smoke ? " 

" Should elderly, short-tempered Dowagers be permitted to use bad 
language ? " 

•• Shall Octogenarian Barmaids be obliged to flirt ? " 

• ' May decayed D uchesses play pitch-and-toss P " 

41 Shall Professional Beauties of a certain age be oompulsorily 

44 Are Burlesque Actresses of over forty years' standing to attend 
Sunday-school P " 

4 * May Ballet-girls teach their grand-children to knit P " 

44 Should cross-eyed Viscountesses catch flies P " 

44 Ought Old Girls generally to make use of slang P " 

• 4 Should Prima donnas in their dotage wear blue pinafores P" 

41 Can the 4 Shirt-front Brigade ' be taught 4 good form ' P " 

44 May Lady Novelists dispense with the historic present P " 

u Should much-married Adventuresses read The family Herald ? 

44 May timid Gentlewomen join the Pioneer Club ? " 

Atd ,4 Is not the New Woman played out r " 

vol. cvil 



[Octobkb 13, 1894. 


Hiss Unified London rtrrriNa away all hkb fiutt Tots and Pi 

Mass bv Googl e. 


Octobeb 13, 1894.] 




mmmm m wrnh i ■uumi^im i , i ■■ yum 

II I 1 ( 1"^ 


Fcwwp Jfr. <7r«n (wfo iwnfe a Hunter for the coming Season). " Ya— as ; but he *s got such a Seedy Tatl I" 

Dealer. "Seedy? Ah, that's it 1 Just oieminatin', it is. Want o' Sunshine, tee see. Lor' bless y', things is mostly 



(Song foe Miss Unified London.) 
Air— " I 'm Getting a Big Girl Now ! " 

I ' ye had all the pleasures belonging to youth, 

Its sweetmeats, its larks, and its toys. 
But 1 find, with regret, what is really the 

That girls will grow old, just like boys. 
I 'd like still to plav in the jolly old way, 

But the world will not let me somehow. 
1 know what it means; I am now in my 

Yes ; I 'm getting a big girl now ! 

I 'm getting a big girl now, ' 
And they tell me it 's time I knew how 

To behave more like one, 

And in toys find less fun ; 
For I 'm getting a big girl now ! 

1 've hsd a good time for a number of years, 
And I 'm sure I 'm not anxious to change. 
But the very best swim there is somebody 
They tcotiH let me alone— it 's so strange ! 
It does give one a shock ; but 1 've outgrown 
my frock, 
My girdle won't meet anyhow ; 
They 're beginning to quiz. Ah ! I see how 
it is; 
I 'm getting a big girl now 

I 'm getting a big girl now, 
If I romp someone kicks up a row. 
They tell me I chuck 
Too much money on " tuck " ! — 
Ah ! I 'm getting a big girl now! 

I know there 's a party who 's anxious to spoil 

My nice little games at Guildhall 
He growls " turn up turtle and toys, Miss, 
and toil, 
Gog and Magog are no good at all. 
Your coaches, and horses, and tin-armoured 
Are babyish bosh, and bow-wow ! 
You must scorn grub and ease—like those 
good L.C.C/s— 
For you 're getting a big girl now ! 


" You are getting a big girl now ; 

You must turn up the tuck-shop I vow. 
A out of cold mutton 
Go take— with good Hutton ! 

For you 're getting a big girl now ! " 

I own that I hate to be talked to like this ; 

And as to those L.C.C. prigs 
They always hold up as a " Model for Miss," 

I '11 give 'em beans yet— please the pigs ! 
Me fussy and frugal like dowdy McDou- 

Well— well ; no use raising a row 
Like all girls and boys I must give up my 

For I 'm getting a big girl now l [toys. 

Yes, I 'm getting a big girl now ; 
My dollies must go anyhow ; 

And as to the tuck 

I must cut it— worse luck ! 
For 1 'm getting a big girl now 

Good-bve, dear old toys! I am getting too 

For dolls, dressing up. and— bohoo ! [dig. 
Gog ! Magog ! ! Alas ! ! ! Is it quite infra 

To drop a few tears over you f ■ 

I am such a whopper, it may be im- 
But— there, I am blubbing— wow-wow ! 
Good-bye, rose and myrtle! Farewell toys 
and turtle ! 
I 'm getting a big girl now. 


Yes, I 'm getting a big girl now, 
(And feel doooealy sorry somehow,) 

In Unification 

They think there's salvation 
For one, who 's a big girl now ! 


Once I thought that you could (wast 
Suoh a perfect southern sky, 

Flecked with summer clouds at most ; 
Always sunny, always dry. 

Warm enough, perhaps, to grill an 

Englishman, muddy Milan ! 

Now I find you soakinjr wet, 
Underneath an English sky ; 

Pavements, mediaeval yet, 
Whence mud splashes ever fly ; 

And. to make one damp and ill, an 

Endless downpour, muddy Milan ! 

Though you boast such works of art, 
Where is that unclouded sky ? 

Muddy Milan, we must part, 
I shall gladly Fay good-bve, 

Pack, anclpay my little bill— an 

Artless thing— and leave you, Milan. 

A Really ••Independent of Labour 
Pabty."— Mr. Kbir Hardie, MP. 



[October 13, 1894. 


(A Story in Scents.) 


Scene XXIV. — A Gallery outside the Verney Chamber. 
Time— About 10.15. 

UndersheU [to himself, as he emerges from a back staircase). 
I suppose this is the corridor ? The Boy said the name of the room 
was painted up oyer the door. . . . Ah, there it is ; and, yes, 
Mr. Spuebell's name on a card. . . . The door is ajar ; he is 
probably waiting for me inside. I shall meet him quite temperately, 
treat it simply as a (He enters ; a waste-paper basket, contain- 
ing an ingenious arrangement of liquid and solid substances, descends 
on his head.) What the devil ao you mean. Sir, by this out- 
rageous ? All dark! Nobody here! Is there a general con- 
spiracy to insult me ? Have I been lured up here for a brutal 

(Spurrell bursts in.) Ah, there you are, Sir ! ( With cold dignity, 
through the lattice-work of the 
basket.) Will you kindly explain 
what this means P 

SpurreU. Wait till I strike a 
light. {After lighting a pair of 
candles.) Well, Sir, if you don r t 
know why you 're ramping about 
like that under a waste-paper 
basket, I can hardly be expected 

Und. I was determined not to 
remove it until somebody came 
in ; it fell on my head the moment 
I entered; it contained some- 
thing in a soap-dish, which has 
wetted my face. You may laugh, 
Sir, but if this is a sample of your 

Spurr. If you could only see 
yourself ! But J 'd nothing to do 
with it, 'pon my word I hadn't ; 
only just Ihis minute got away 
from the hall. . . . /know ! It 's 
that 6ulky young beggar, Beap- 
park. I remember he slipped off 
on some excuse or other just now. 
He must have oome in here and 
fixed that affair up for me— con- 
found him ! 

Und. I think I'm the person 

most entitled to But no 

matter; it is merely one insult 
more among so many. I came 
here, Sir, for a purpose, as you 
are aware. 

Spurr. (ruefully). Your dress 
clothes? All right, you shall 
have them direotly. I wouldn't 
have put 'em on if I 'd known 
they 'd be wanted so soon. 

Und. I should have thought 
your own would have been more 

Spurr. More comfortable! I 
believe you. Why, I assure you 
I feel like a Bath bun in a baby's 
sock ! But how was I to know ? 
You shouldn't leave your things 
about like that ! 

Und. It is usual, Sir, for 

people to come to a place like this provided with evening clothes of 
their own. 

Spurr. I know that as well as you do. Don't you suppose I 'm 
unacquainted with the usages of society! Why, I've stayed in 
boarding-houses at the seaside many a time where it was de rigger 
to dress — even for high tea ! But coming down, as I did, on 
business, it never entered my head that I should want my dress suit. 
So when I found them all as chummy and friendly as possible, and 
expecting me to dine as a matter of course,— why, I can tell you I was 
too jolly glad to get hold of anything in the shape of a swallowtail 
and white choker to be over particular ! 

Und. You seem to have been more fortunate in your reception than 
I. But then /had not the advantage of being here in a business 

Spurr. Well, it wasn't that altogether. You see, I'm a kind of 
a celebrity in mv way. 

Und. I should hardly have thought that would be a recommenda- 
tion here. 

" He suddenly comes face to face with his own reflection." 

Spurr. I was surprised myself to find what a lot they thought of 
it ; out, bless you, they 're all as civil as shopwalkers : and, as for 
the ladies, why, the old Countess and Lady Maisie and Lady Rhoda 
couldn't be more complimentary if I 'd won the Victoria Cross, instead 
of getting a first prize for breeding and exhibiting a bull hitch at 
Cbtjft's Dog Show ! 

Und. (bitterly, to himself). And this is our aristocracy! They 
make a bosom friend of a breeder of dogs ; and find a poet only fit to 
associate with their servants ! What a theme for a satirist ! (Aloud.) 
I see nothing to wonder at. You possess precisely the social qualifi- 
cations most likely to appeal to the leisured class. 

Spurr. Oh, there 's a lot of humbug in it, mind you ! Most of 'em 
know about as much of the points of a bull as the points of a compass, 
only they let on to know a lot because they think it 's smart. And 
some of 'em are after a pup from old Drummy's next litter, /see 
through all that, you know ! 

Una. You are a cynic, I observe, Sir. But possibly the nature of 

the business which brings you here renders them 

Spurr. That 's the rummest 
thing about it. I haven't heard 
a word about that yet. I'm in 
the veterinary profession, you 
know. Well, they sent for me to 
see some blooming horse, and 
never even ask me to go near it ! 
Seems odd, don't it F 

Und. (to himself). I had to go 
near the blooming norse ! Now I 
begin to understand; the very 
servants did not expect to find a 
professional vet in any company 
but their own! (Aloud.) I— I 
trust that the horse will not 
suffer through any delay. 

Spurr. So do I ; but how do I 
know that some ignorant duffer 
mayn't be treating him for the 
wrong thing ? It may be all op 
with the animal before I get a 
chance of seeing what I can do ! 

Und. (to himself). If he knew 
how near I went to getting the 
poor beast shot ! But I needn't 
mention that now. 

Spurr. I don't say it isn't gra- 
tifying to be treated like a swell, 
but I ' ve got my professional re- 
putation to consider, you know; 
and if they're going to take 
up all my lime talking about 


Und. (gnth a start). Andro- 
meda ! They have been talking 
about Andromeda t To you ! 

Then it 's you who 

Spurr. Haven't I been telling 
you? I should just jolly well 
think they have been talking 
about her I 80 you didn't know 
my bull's name was Andromeda 
before, eh? But you seem to 
have heard of her, too ! 

Und. (slowly). I — I hare heard 
of Andromeda— yes. 

[He drops into a chair, dazed. 

Spurr. (complacently). It 's 

curious how that bitch's fame 

to have spread. Why, 

even the old Bishop But, I say, you're looking rather queer; 

anything ihe matter with you, old fellow ? 

Und. (faintly). Nothing— nothing. I— I feel a little giddy, that 's 
all. I shall be better presently. [He conceals his face. 

Spurr. (in concern). It was having that basket down on your head 
like that. Too bad I Here, I '11 get you some water. (He bustles 
about.) I don't know if you 're aware of it, old chap, but you 're in 
a regular dooce of a mess ! 

Und. (motioning him away irritably). Do you suppose I don't know 
that f For heaven's sake, don't speak to me ! let me alone! ... I 
want to think— I want to think. (To himself.) I see it all now! 
I 've made a hideous mistake ! I thought these CdLVERiNft were 

deliberately And all the time Oh, what an unspeakable 

idiot I 've been ! . . . And I can't even explain ! . . . The only 

! thing to do is to escape before this fellow suspects the truth. It's 

lucky I ordered that carriage ! (Aloud, rising.) I 'm all right 

now ; and— and I can't stay here any longer. I am leaving directly 

"" directlyt Digitize hyl-iOOgle - 

October 13, 1894.] 



Spurr. You must giro me time to pet out of this toggery, old 
chap ; you '11 hare to pick me out of it like a lobster ! 

Und. {wild it/). The clothes P Never mind them now. I can't wait. 
Keep them ! 

Spurr. Do you really mean it, old fellow P If you could spare 'em 
a bit longer, I M be no end obliged. Because, you see, I promised 
Lady Rhoda to came and finish a talk we were haying, and they 've 
taken away my own things to brush, so I haven't a rag to go down in 
except these, and they 'd all think it so rude if I went to bed now ! 

Und. (impatiently). I tell you you may keep them, if you '11 only 
go away ! ; 

Spurr. But where am I to send the things to when I 've done with 

Und. What do I Stay, berets my card. Send them to that 

address. Now go and finish your evening ! 

Spurr. (gratefully). You are a rattling good chap, and no mistake ! 
Though I *m hanged if I can quite make out what you 're doing here, 
you know ! 

Und. It 's not at all necessary that you should know. I am leav- 
ing" immediately, and— and I don't wish Sir Rupert or Lady Cul- 
verdt to hear of this— you understand P 

Spurr. Well, it's no business of mine; you've behaved devilish 
well to me, and I 'm not surprised that you M rather not be seen in 
the state you 're in. I shouldn't like it myself ! 

Und. State? What state P 

Spurr. Ah, I wondered whether you knew. You'll see what 
I mean when you 've had a look at 1 yourself in the glass, I daresay 
it 'U come off right enough. I can't stop. Ta, ta, old fellow, and 
thanks awfullv f [He goes out. j 

Und. (alone). What does he mean ? But I 've no time to waste. 
Where have they put my portmanteau P I can't give up everything. 
(He hunts round the room, and eventually discovers a door leading 
into a small dressing-room.) Ah, it ' 8 in there. I '11 get it out, and 

put my things in. (As he rushes back, he suddenly comes face' to face 
with his own reflection [in a cheval glass.) Wh — who 's that ?i* Can 

this— this piebald horror possibly be— me t How ? Ah,' it was 

tit* in that infernal basket— not water! And my hair's full of 
flour I I can't go into a hotel like this, they'd think I was an escaped 
lunatic! (He flies to a wash-hand stand, and scrubs and sluices 
desperately, after which he inspects the result in the mirror.) It 's 
not nearly off yet ! Will anything get rid of this streakiness ? (He 
soaps and scrubs once more.) And the flour's caked in my hair 
now! I must brush it all out before I am fit to be seen. (He 
gradually, after infinite toil, succeeds in making himself slightly 
more presentable.) Is the carriage waiting for me all this time? 
(He pitches things into his portmanteau in a frantic flurry.) 
What '8 that ? Some one's coming ! [He listens. 

TredweU (outside). It 's my oonviotion you 've been telling me a 
pack o' lies, you young rascal. For what hearthly business that feller 

Undbrshell oould 'ave in the Verney However, I '11 soon see 

how it is. ( He knocks.) Is anyone in 'ere P 

Und. (to himself, distractedly). He mustn't find me here ! Yet, 
where-; — Ah, it 's the only place ! [He blows out the candles, and 
darts into the dressing-room as Tredwell enters. 

Tred. The boy 's right. He is in here ; them candles is smouldering 
still. (He relights one, and looks under the bed.) You'd better 
come out o' that, Uif dershell, and give an account of yourself—do 
you 'ear me P . . . He ain't under there ! (He tries the dressing-room 
door ; Uddershell holds his breath, and cltngs desperately to the 
handle.) Yerf well, Sir, I know you 're there, and I 've no time to 
trouble with you at present, so you may as well stay where you are 
till you're wanted. I 've 'eard o' your goings-on from Mr. Adams, 
and I shall 'ave to fetch Sir Rupert up to 'ave a talk with you by- 
and-hy. [He turns the key upon him, and goes. 

Una. (to himself, overwhelmed, as the Butler's step is heard 
retreating). And I came down here to assert the dignity of Literature ! 


Our George du Maurier is in analagous case io that of a 
dramatic character of whom he may possibly have heard. M. Jour- 
dain one day happed upon the discovery that he had been talkinr 
prose all his life without knowing it Mr. du Maurier has lived 
through half a oentury -master of an 
exquisite style, and only now makes 
the discovery known to the world. 
Plain indications of the fact were 
given in Peter Ibbetson. But in re- 
spect of style and in other matters, 
Trilby, just published bv Osgood, 
McIlvaike & Co., is a prodigious im- 
provement. That a man who has 
made his mark in pencil should, on 
taking up his pen, disclose possession 
of the rare gift of style, strikes the 
literary person with more maivel even 
than is evoked by discovery of a new 
novelist who can construct a plot and 
delineate character. Mr. du Maurier 
has rich endowment of all these gifts, 
which shine on every page of Trilby. 
He has, moreover, given us a new 
thine quite apart from the run of 
English novels. Hbvri Murger was 
before him with a deathless book in 
which life in the Qnartier Latin is 
powerfully and tenderly portrayed. 
Mr. du Maurier' s chapters on student 

praise of the kind Sir Hubert Stanley hoarded. Beyond that, 
{rrowing out of it, is the boldly conceived, firmly-drawn, and charm- 
ingly coloured character of Trilby, with her curious entourage, her 
varied life, and her tragic end. Little Billee, in whom some will 
find revived lost memories of a dear friend, is a charming personality, 
whilst Taffy and the Laird are live men. With such wealth of 
material and such felicity of touch, Mr. du Maurier might well have 
foregone the temptation of allowing Little Billee to hold forth on 
theological subjects to his dog, at a length inevitable in the pulpit, 
but a little out of place as an interlude in a novel. This passage 
supplies a jarring note in an otherwise almost perfect symphony. 

One turns with eagerness to the Life of Frances Power Cobbe, 
more especially when it bean the honoured, imprimatur of Bentlet. 
Miss Cobbe has lived long, enjoying full opportunity of seeing things 
and people. She ought to have written a good book. " Instead of 
w}iicn," as the judge onoe said, she presents a slovenly-written, ill- 
digested mass of miscellaneous matter, including whole chapters 
devoted to digests of her published works. Pleased with herself 

from most aspects, she particularly admires her literary style. There 
is a passage., in the book where she; plaintively apprehends that, lost 
in admiration of her style, readers may miss the true purpose and 
importance of her writing ; — this in volumes that bristle with such 
monstrosities as "compared to," '* disapproved of," and "from 
thence," the latter a favourite foible of Miss Cobbe' s style. In the 
second volume there are some attempts at what was naturally 
looked for, to wit, reminiscences of people the present generation 
would like to meet. But the burly, complacent figure of the diarist 
intervenes just as they come into view. She tells us what she said 
to them, not, what we are burning to hear, what they said to her. 
On the whole, looked at through Miss Cobbe's spectacles, they were 
a poor lot. Of Renan she writes, " The impression he has left on 
me is one of (disappointment and short-falling." Short-falling is 
" style " of the athletic order, and, my Baronite vaguely surmises, is 
the opposite of high jumping. As to poor Carlyle. Miss Cobbe ' ' never 
shared the admiration felt for him by so many able men." George 
Borrow, who wrote The Bible in Spain, she "never liked, think- 
ing him more or less a hypocrite. Professor Ttkdal is more 
in favour, sinoe, in reply to the gift of one of Miss Cobbe's instruct- 
ive books, the Professor wrote an acknowledgment, the exquisite 
irony of which his correspondent evidently does not see. One other 
partial concession is made in a passage sublime in its fatuousness. 
Speaking of one of her books, of which the fortunate reader will find 
a full summary in the first volume, Miss Cobbe says, ** It was very 
favourably reviewed, but some of my fellow Theists rather disap- 
proved of the tribute I had paid to Christ." The volumes bear on 
the front the Cobbe coat of arms and motto. The family may, we 
are assured, be traced back through four centuries, and, even in the 
present degenerate days, is highly oonnected. 

Whilst the great heart of the people is considering whether it 
shall throb against the House of Lords or whether it shall forbear, 
Mr. Swift MaqNbill, Q.C., M.P., has delivered at that ancient 
institution what the Marchioness was accustomed to describe as " a 
wonner." Titled Corruption is the alluring style of the neatly- 
bound volume issued by Fisher Unwin. There is, my Baronite 
says, a touch of artistic genius in the contrast between the plain, 
unassuming calico binding of the book and the blood and thunder 
that rolls through its pages. It is ** the sordid origin of some Irish 
peerages" that Mr. Swift MacNeill undertakes to set forth. 
Perhaps if he were solely responsible for the work, its startling 
statements might be dismissed as coloured by fervid fanoy. He, 
however, supports himself with the dictum of Mr. Leckt, " the 
majority of Irish titles are historically connected with memories not 
of honour but of shame," and illustrates it by extracts from .con- 
fidential letters of Lords Lieutensnts of Ireland, recommending 
gentlemen for the peerage. Altogether an interesting withdrawal 
of the curtain dropped before passages in the history of Ireland on 
the eve of the Union. 

Signed and approved in the Baronite Office by 

The Judicious Baron de Book-Worms. 



tells he you 'be vbry C lever ! " She (highly amused). * How absurd ! I 'm not a sit Clever 1 " 

Be (with sigh of relief). "Well, do you know, I thought you weben't!" 


" The lady sleeps ! 0, may her sleep, 
As it is lasting, so be deep." 

B. A. Poe'e " The Sfaper.' 

B bllon A sleeps ! If sleep it be 
That nightmare slumber, restlessly 
Haunted by dream-world's wizardry. 

So Si sera slept within the tent, 

Restless, though way-worn and war-spent, 

Whilst Jael's fierce faoe above him bent. 

Wake not, War-Goddess ! All the world 
Dreads now to hear the war-ory skirled, 
To see the battle-flag unfurled. 

Our Deborahs now invoke not war, 
And urge not to it) shook and jar 
The princes of our Issachab. 

An awesome hush is o'er the earth. 
It cheeks our joy, it mutes our mirth. 
Foreboding some prodigious birth,— 

Some monstrous issue, that may sweep 
Earth's plains with red from de*p to deep ; 
And thou dost sleep, still thou dost sleep ! 

" Awake ! Awake ! " So Deborah cried 

To Barak in her prophet-pride, 

But earth hath now no prophet-guide. 

Our bravest Baraks well may quail 
At the dread thought of that fierce hail, 
That shall beat Europe like a flaiL 

We see ia dreams War's shrieking scythe 
Whirl through earth's ranks that fall and 

Of our best manhood taking ti'he. 

What dreams are thine t That restless hand 
Stretohes, in sleep, to grasp the brand. 
We watch ! What may we understand P 

Bbllona sleeps ! Oh, may that sleep, 
Though it seem restless, yet be deep ! 
May Somnus hold her in Lis keep ! 

Humanity prays that she may lie 
For ever with unopened eye ! — 
But— what dim sheeted ghosts go by P 

What spectres of what coming woes, 
What vision-shocks of phantom foes 
Make that hand stretch, and clutoh, and 
close P 

What rattle of the war-dogs' chain 
Steals through dull slumber to her brain P 
Are Love's bland opiates all in vain P 

Vain Soienoe, Commerce, Human ruth, 
The love of Right, the search of Truth, 
Wisdom of Sage and warmth of Youth P 

That hand, stretched in half -oonsoious quest 
Of the war-weapon, doth attest 
Awakening's prelude in— Unrest ! 

Wake not, War-Goddess ! When you stir, 
The Raven- wings, onoe more a-whirr, 
May see our earth— a sepulchre ! 

Scene— In front o/Mrs. R.'s house. 
Mr 8. R. (paying Cabman). You look all 
right to-day. Cabman. Ah, mum ! my looks 
don't pity me. I suffer from a tarpaulin liver. 
Mrs. R. (correcting). A torpedo liver you 
mean. [Cabman accepts the correction, and 
an extra shilling. 


[" Instead of the many educational extras in our 
Board Schools, why should there not he some 
elementary class devoted to the development of 
humour ? " — Mr. James Payn. in the " Illustrated 
London Newe."] 

Wht not, indeed P This resplendent sugges- 
tion of 
Carefully training the humorous sense 
Cannot, nay, must not, be burked by a ques- 
tion of 
Practical parents, or shillings and pence. 

Down with arithmetic, spelling, or history, 
Books that are stupid, and arts that are trite, 

Rather we '11 turn to each novelist's mystery, 
Study the volumes our humorists write. 

Those who at present look sadly their task 
View it with evident hate and disdain, 
Much will rejoice when invited to bask upon 
Witty romances oomposed by James Pain. 
Soon for diversion they '11 take, and feel 
pleasure in, 
DoBSON for dinner, and Lockeb for lunch, 
And will employ what remains of their leisure 
Weekly digesting a volume of Punch. 

Then, that each young and intelligent artisan 
May not be prejudiced as to his view, 

Lang will appear as antiquity's partisan, 
Zangwtll will treat of the humorists new. 

Sojjvhile we thank Mr. Patn for inventing it, 
Chiefly the system will profit us then, 

Since— a great fact, though he shrinks from 
presenting it— > "> T 

Humorists all will be opulent men ! 

Digitized by 


October 13, 1894.] 




Then he that made the little songs 
For Abthur— deftly oould he make 

the same — 
Budged not ; hut Arthur rose and 

Whether by malioe of the mind 

Or hy the merest inadvertency, 
(As he alleged that felt it,) drew his 

And smote him on the digit heavily, 
And ceased. • • • • 

Arthur was 'ware of one that 

winked on him, 
Clothed all in sable, stout, con- 

stabular : 
Then murmured Arthur, " Place 

me in the dock ! " 
So to the dock they came eventually. 
And there the pressmen came and 

sampled him ; 
And later came the Bar and pleaded 

for him : 
And last the Bench observed, * ' More 

thing 8 are wrought 
By misadventure than you might 

And such the case before us ; yea, 

a tort 
Committed in a temporary state 
Of sheer oblivion. We dismiss the 


So from the Court serenely Aktbtk 

And passing held communion with 

How he hhould work it up for future 


Friendly French Feeling and 

Fishing.— Oh, of course, nothing . 
oould be nicer. They are so fona ! 
of us English in France ! Can't { 
possibly do without us. The latest 
development of it, in a small way, 
being the seizure of a Ramsgate 
fishing-smack, called the Bonnie 
BeU % by a French fishing-boat, 
which hauled the B. B. into 
Gravelines. "Hard lines" this. 
Anyway it is a nasty fishing 
"smack" in the eye, given and 
taken. And where 's the friendly 
feeling ? 


(Far "Love in the Arbour") 

A Darwinite tells us some flowers 
can see ! 
This adds a new terror to botany. 
For lovers, and ladies, will surely 
Blossoms' tongues could tell tales 
—had they got any : 
The Fat Boy in Pickwick, an 
To amorous " spoons" was a 
But flowers with eyes for what 
Aunts call u improper " ? 
That is a look-out, and no error ! 
'Tis climbers and parasites chiefly, 
we 're told, 
Who 're gifted with optical 
Well nymphs will be roguish, and 
swains will be bold, 
Notwithstanding inquisitive — 
flowers ! 
The Virgin, no doubt, will invite 
the sly kiss, 
Despite the Virginian Creeper ; 
And Cory don clasp in the moon- 
light sweet miss 
Though Convolvulus play Tom 
the Peeper. 
But should science discover that 
blossoms can speak. 
And tell tales about bower-hid 
I passion ; 

I '11 wager it wouldn't be more than 
I a week, [fashion ! 

I Before flowers would go cut of 
! One prospect at least this new doc- 
trine discovers : 
Did eyes and glib tongues fill our 
The man whom a maiden deems 
44 flower of lovers," 
Would no more be lover of flowers 


" Unification " is vexation, 
The " L. C. C." 's as bad ; 

The 44 NewCitee" 
Doth puzzle me 

Aid 4 'New Mayors" 
Diive me mad ! 


Tax Sea-Lion ashore. 

41 Bom bastes Furioso Minimus," 
— i.e. Prince Henri d'Orleans. 


[" Canon A in gee. condemns minor poetry as * mere confectionary.' " — 
Globe, Oct. 4.] 

That being: so, why should not the matter he placed on a business- 
like footing r The following is a specimen prospectus : — 


Caterers by (self) appointment to the Yellow-book, the Rhymers* 
Club, and Nobody Else in Particular. 

Sweet-stuff Contractors for Mutual Admiration Parties, Muffin- 
worries, and other Beanos. Log-rolling in all its branches. 

Highly-spiced productions at unpopular prices. Only unbowd- 
lerised materials used. Particular attention is given to injure 
imperfect cleanliness in all details. 

TARIFF. £ s. d. 

Odes (Royal Marriage, buttered), per line . . . .110 

„ dry perfytte 2 

„ " To Spring " (given away in packet of 12). 
Lays (fresh) 4 

„ (equal to new) 3 

,, (warranted) 2 

Ballads (ordinary, per line) 1 

,, . (with proper envoi and correctly rhymed) 1} 

£ s. 
















Sonnets (with wide margin, on hand-made paper, and 

quite unintelligible), each 

„ To the Sunset 

Rondeaus . . (extra tick), bottled, per dozen 

„ . . (full-flavoured), on draught, per gush 

Rondels .... (fanoy, for albums), each 
Triolets . . (as used in lunatic asylums), per dozen 
Villanelles (recommended for curates and oonverted 

burglars), each 

Recitations (G. R. Sims' mixed) 

„ (Comic) 

„ . . (best blood-curdling), per gulp 

Conveniently packed for delivery within the London radius. 
Sbstinas, Chants Royal, Virelais, and other French Sweetmeats 
to order. 
The Management would recommend all lovers of high-class con- 
fectionary to test the quality of the under-rtjktiontd specialities :— 
Wat rot's Eloping Sally Lunns; Le Billy goat 'a Lovers' Liquorice; 
Dr. Goodboy's Medical Nightmares ; John SUvergray's Blue Points 
(3<*. a dozen); Arthur Siflywit's Svmnels; Norty Gal's Richmond 
Maids, and Oscar's Masterpieces (each 2d.). 

In any case of civility or attention on the part of their employe's, 
the Directors earnestly request that the same he reported immediately 
to the Head Office, Poet's Corner, where the matter will be promptly 

dfldtwith - nini^dhvliOOgle 



[October 13, 1891 


The German Emperor. " I will now siko you a little Thing of my own ! " 

[ The effect on the Audience was instantaneous, 
[" The German Emperor's song will be published this wrek in Germany, France, and England."] 


(An Apologue with an Application.) 

[A lady-bicyclist the other day, riding in " rational dress," was roundly 
hissed by an elderly Mrs. Gbundy, standing by. The wheel-woman is said 
to have retorted, "Are you women who thus niss me ? When you bathe, 
you wear a special costume, which you deem suitable. When I ride, I do 
the same. Where 's the difference r "] 

44 But," said the Proud Briton to the Perfect Stranger, " in addi- 
tion to our armies and fleets, our religions and our laws, our parsons 

and our policemen, we have 
one Protective Power, moral 
palladium and social aegis in 
one, whose value outweighs 
that of all others." 

The Perfect Stranger 
looked surprised. 

4 'Andwliat,"8aidhe, "is 

" We call it the 4 Matron s 
Hiss,'" replied the Proud 
Briton, with enigmatical 
complacency. " Anything 
contra bonos mores f bad 
form, improper, new- 
fangled, unconventional, un- 
healthy, unwholesome, im- 
modest, vulgar, vicious, venal, 
on to summarise still further, 
anything that is either new 
or naughty, or both, is im- 
mediately 4 put down* by 
the 4 Matron's Hiss.' " 

Quoth 1 he Perfect Stranger, 
44 1 should like to observe it 
in operation." 

44 You shall!" said the 
Proud Briton. 


The Perfect Stran^r, under Ihe guidance of the Proud Briton 
went everywhere andj^r everything. 

He saw a sweet, though apparently semi-suffocated, Toung girl 
dressed (or, as he would oy unaided judgment have concluded, tin- 
dressed) for her first ball. 

He saw an elderly line lady, a high-nosed dame de par le monde. 
prepared— he would have said, painted and glazed— for a high, social 
fi function." 

He saw a fair ingenue, under the eves of her vigilant mamma and 
chaperon, in one evening waltzing with, and trying to win, as more 

permanent partners, an elderly 
but opulent Satyr, and a youth- 
ful, brainless, but titled Cloten. 

He heard conversation which 
the talkers themselves laughingly 
called risqui (and which he would 
grimly have called rude) at 
fashionable dinner-tables be- 
tween smirking matrons and 
leering elderly men. 

He witnessed the vagaries of 
despot Fashion, the (as he con- 
sidered) 44 immodesty" of 44 full 
dress," the 44 impropriety" of 
flagrant 44 oosmetici8m,"the "un- 
healthiness " of inadequate or su- 
perfluous clothing, the cruelty " 
of corsets, the "vulgarity" and 
wanton murderousness of bird- 
destroying feather trimmings. 

These, and many more follies, 
improprieties and wickedness the 
Perfect Stranger was wondering 
witness of. 

44 But," observed the Perfect 
Stranger, 4i where is the 4 Ma- 
tron's Hiss'?" 

44 Oh ! " replied the Proud Bri- 
1on, with some embarrassment, 
44 but in all this there is nothing 
new, you know, nothing unprece- 
dented, innovating, subversive of 
ar*cepted Social Laws ; nothing 
4 baa form,' that is to say un- 
usual, unexpected, unconseerated 

_ ____ __ ^y respectable usage. If there t> 

anything Naughty, it is not New t and what is— possibly— New 
i« not Naughty. Therefore, there is no call for that omnipotent 

44 Humph! What then would elicit itP" inquired the Perfect 

44 That is a bit difficult to define, off-hand," answered the Proud 
Briton, hesitatingly. 4i Say, for example, a natural waist, or 
absence of corsets, high-dress at a Court function, marriage for 
love— which in Society or in the tennis-court is equivalent to nothing 
—wearing an unfashionable hat, or four-buttoned gloves when 
six are de regie, sounding your gps (when fashion dictates 
their being dropped), or not sounding yourh's (till fashion tells 
you to drop them), blushing inopportunely — say, at the stare of a 
duke or the 4 8ugffestiveness' of a millionaire — showing sympathy 
out of your own r set,' objecting to tailor-made attire or accepted 
bathing-costume, discussing questions of sex in a spirit of serious 
sympathy instead of through some decadent Art-medium: being 
earnest, original, or spontaneous in any way, and thus defying 
Society's golden rule, 4 Do always as others do.' " 

44 Is that the Masterful Matron's sole rule ? " queried the Perfect 

44 Substantially yes," replied the Proud Briton; "though it is 
supplemented, perhaps, by the corollary, 4 Never be either the first 
or the last to do a new thing.' " 

44 Then," commented the Perfect Stranger, "the Matron's Hiss 
would be silent at the sight of bared shoulders and bust in mid- 
winter, but would sound with anserine shrillness at the sight of a 
lady's lower limbs comfortably, and conveniently, and healthily, and 
decently t but unconventionally, clad in summer on a cycle ? " 

44 Precisely ! " said the Proud Briton, though perhaps with less of 
British pride than usual. 

44 Then," said the Perfect Stranger, * 4 1 think your Hissing Matron 
is a silly, despotic, cackling old goose, who will never save the social 
Capitol ! But who and what is that f " 

That was a portly, florid, and high-nosed elderly dame, of 
pompous demeanour, and flamboyant raiment, elaborately and 
obviously oosmetiqued, and arrayedin a startlingly low-out garment 
44 That" said the Proud Briton, with an uneasy smile, "is Mrs. 
Grundy, the great Goose-Autocrat, the Palladium of Propriety, the 
iEgis of Social Morality, the very Masterful Matron of whom we 
have been talking." 

44 Then/' demanded the Perfect Stranger, with staggering perti- 
nence, " Why does she not Hiss at Herself?" 
The Proud Briton was silent. 

The Lobj> Mayor Elect.— The incoming Lord Mayor has already 
shown himself a " Man of Letters" as he communicated a letter of 
thanks for kind wishes to pretty well every leading journal. These, 
when collected, may be published as a new " Renals Miscellany." 

Ootobbb 13, 1894.] 




Sir,— I should never dream 
of humiliating myself to the 
extent of promising to obey any 
man. let 1 am a married 
woman — married, too. in a 
Church of England. How did 
I manage it, perhaps you will 
inquire Y In this way, which 
I recommend for the adoption 
of all women who would de- 
cline to be worse than slaves. 
Instead of repeating the words 
•'love, cherish, and obey" 
after the officiating clergyman, 
I altered them to ' * love cherries 
and whey," of which I happen 
to be very fond; so that when- 
ever my husband (who is a 
poor creature) reproaches me 
with breaking my vow of obe- 
dience made at the a altar — he 
does not often do this, as he is 
seldom at home — I can, with a 
clear conscience, affirm that I 
never took any vow at all. 
This astonishes him so much 
that it makes him swear, and 
then go out to his club. A 
good riddance too ! 

An Ehtibely New Womaw. 

Sib.— As a lawyer, I hold 
that the contract into which a 
woman enters at marriage to 
obey her husband, beinj? one 
made " under duress," is en- 
tirely void. She is compelled 
to take the vow, otherwise she 
could not be married at all. 
Bat, in order to make her 
position still clearer, I should 
advise that, before repeating 
the words of the clergyman, she 
should say to him. Am I to 
understand that unless I repeat 
this formula you will decline 
to marry me ? " He may be a 
little surprised, but is sure to 


Aunty Rose. "And how Old do you think i am, Tommy?" 
Tommy. " Wbll— Sixtt-thrik ? " 

Aunty Rose. "Oh, you Flatterer 1 Why, I'm past Eighty I" 
Tommy. " Ah 1 I thought you were ; but I thocget you wouldn't 


answer in the affirmative. 
Then ehe should reply, " Very 
well ; then I repeat it under 

Srotest, and without preju- 
ice," and the ceremony could 
thereafter go on a? usual. 
There might also be inserted, 
after the announcement of the 
wedding in the papers, the 
words "No obedience," like 
" No cards," in which case no 
doubt whatever oould be raised 
as to the wife's true legal posi- 
tion. I shall be happy to 
advise further, if necessary, 
and meanwhile remain, 
Yours toutingly, 

Law Calf. 

Sir, — What is this nonsen* e 
about women ref using to obey 
their husbands P The only 
way with wives is to be gentle 
with them, but at the same 
time perfectly firm. This is 
my plan, and it answers ad- 
mirably. My wife the other 
day declined to surrender the 
morning paper to me, and told 
me she would like to be a ' 'New 
Woman." " Very well," I 
answered; "then you won't 
object to my being a New Man 
too " ; and I at onoe chained 
her securely to the strongest 
bed-post in the house, and 
forbade any food to be brought 
near her. After four hours of 
this discipline she came to such 
senses as Providence has 
blessed her with, and is now 
the very loving and obedient 
consort of 

Tours domestically, 

Master of his own House. 

Troubles in Madagascar. 
— Not by any means at an end. 
Most probably all "Hova" 


(See " Punch," September 22.) 

So, my friend, you ask me questions ; 
well, I '11 give you tit for tat : 

I 'm a matrimonial cormorant con- 
nected with a bat 

But I stirred my stumps and wandered 
through the wicket of the jail, 

While the umpire leg-befored me as a 
prisoner on bail. 

What a sight for sunny snowballs ! ah, 

my heart beat fast and loud 
When once more I mingled freely with 

the logarithmic crowd : 
And on either side the cube-roots oast 

the falsehood in the teeth 
Of the oyster I had bearded on his 

own, nis native, heath. 

It was splendid, but I fancy that they 
came it rather strong 

When a saucy capercailzie played 
sonatas on a gong. 

If his musio was so naughty, his beha- 
viour was so nice. 

That I laughed to see him gaily cutting 
capers on the ice. 

Then the band struck up in earnest, 
though!-. their leader murmured 

And at first they played ta-ra-ra, but 
without the boom-de-ay. 

Then they captured a canal-boat, and 

with half-a-dozen bars 
Beating time they smashed the reord 

from Mashonaland to Mars. 

Fifty tunes they played serenely, but 

I didn't seem to care, 
For my Aunt had said " Ei iza, when 

the band plays I '11 be there ; 
I'll be there with Uncle Bufos who 

has got to go because 

Well, the reason doesn't matter, he 'U 

be there," and there he was. 

If the stars drink champagne-cider out 

of tankards to the dregs. 
All the stars and little starlings with 

the garters on their legs, 
Shall an undiscovered comet with a 

mile or two of tail 
Be put off with half a pallon of our 

humble home-brewed ale P 

No, by Jove, he wouldn't stand it ; he 

can let the others pay ; 
Standing treat is oipmof fashion, ao 

he '11 tap the mi^y way. 
When the red-hot stars come trickling 

he can cool them in his cup, 
And he'll tap it all the harder just to 

keep his peoker up. 

He can hanjr about the Strand, too, if 

we give him lots of rope, 
And he 'U lather Semoldta with a sud 

of patent soap; 



[October 13, 1894. 

Semolina, you remember, took 

her passage on a hoy, 
She was married to an anchorite 

and now she 's got a boy. 

Parish Councillors came round 

her, Dukes and Earls, and even 

With their spades they carved 

allotments on the table-land of 

But she faced them in her fury, 

and she asked the idiots how 
She could ever stomach acres after 

eating up her oow P 

There. I think I've answered 
fairly every question on your 

All their meaning I have mas- 
tered, there 's not one of them 
I 've missed. 

I 'm a sulphur-headed sunbeam, 
with a taste for pretty clocks, 

Whioh I always tell the time 
by when they strike upon the 

Mrs. R. doubled up her Times 
for convenience of handling, and 
came upon this sentence where 
the paper folded : 

" Individuals grown in tubs in 
greenhouses, in cool climates, have 
been known to live over a hundred 
yt ars." 

She paused. " Good Heavens! " 
she exclaimed ; " it's as remark- 
able as the history of the old 
hermits who used to live perched 
up on the tops of pillars ! But if 
ever these very clean individuals 
did live in ' tubs ' for over a 
hundred years, what possible 
good could they have been to 
anybody, or even to themselves ! " 
Turning the paper over Mrs. R. 
found that the letter was headed 
41 American Aloes." 


'Jrry {reading account of the War in the Eat>t\ " Ow, I s'y, 
'Areibt, thky 've bin an' took old Li 'Qnq Chang's thrke- 
heybd Peacock's Feathebs all off 'im 1 " 
'Arriet {compassionately). "Pore old Feller 1" 


Amanda, I, your faithful slave, 

Am grieved by the conviction 
That you expect me to behave 

A 8 lover 8 do in fiction, 
To falter forth my vows sincere 

In syllables disjointed ; 
Mymore prosaio speech, I fear, 

Will leave you disappointed. 

I ought, I candidly allow, 

In sitting-rooms and places 
To stride about with gloomy brow 

And agitated paces ; 
But in athletic sports I'm sure 

I always was a duffer, 
And, if I tried, your furniture 

Most certainly would suffer. 

To prove the tenderness I feel 

My duty is, I know, to 
Leave quite untasted every meal, 

And breakfast off your photo. ; 
But habit proves, alas, too strong ! 

With appetite unshaken 
I still attack (I know it 's wrong) 

My matutinal bacon. 

Again ; I dearly ought to try 

To immolate a rival, 
And prove my special fitness by 

A process of survival ; 
My cowardice I much deplore, 

But still, romantic fury 
Would scarcely pay, when brought 

An unromantio jury. 

So, if your courage still insists 

On scorning thoughts pruden- 
And you regard the novelists' 

Commandments as essential, 
With some more daring person 

For me, a brief perusal 
Of modern fiction makes me give 

A kind but firm refusal! 


My dear Mabjorie, — You are hard on poor Oriel Crampton 
when you pay that philanthropy, brisk walks, a bad temper, and a 
taste for collecting postage-stamps, form the most hideous combina- 
tion an£ human neing could imagine. Of course, I admit he's a 
little dreary. All is now over between us. Things reached a climax 
one rainy afternoon when Baby Beaumont, in a mood of intense 
juvenility, offered " to teach Oriel to make barley-sugar." Forget- 
ing his school-days. Oriel patronisingly said he was glad to learn 
from anyone. So Baby seized Oriel's arm, twisted it round in 
the classical manner, and then hit the twist. It was quite impos- 
sible to help laughing when Obi el, pale with fury, declared he 
could take a joke, supposed this was the New Humour, and left the 
room. */ What can you expect," said Baby, " of the middle-aged ?" 
(Oriel is not twenty-four yet.) 

That evening I wrote a note, putting an end to our engagement. 

I gave it to him in the billiard- room, and— he Rave me one at the 
same time, and— to the same effect! I felt dreadfully hurt at his 
throwing me over. He wrote, "I feel I have no right to ask you, who 
are so fitted to shine in the society of the gay and decadent" (this 
meant Baby), " to share a life that will be wholly dedicated to the 
amelioration of the condition of the poorer classes," &c. 

In the midst of our agitation, we were compelled to play " musical 
chairs" with the others, as if nothing had. happened! What a 
mockery it seei^§i ! 

We parted amicably. He asked if I should like to hear, from 
time to time, of the progress of his life-work, and J promi ed to be 
his sister. . . . When he went away, a strange sense of loss came over 
me. . . . One page in my life had been turned for ever ! . . . Baby 
tiled to console me by observing that now there would be a chance of 
getting plenty of hot water for baths. Oriel used to drink it all. 

At the tennis-party Mrs. Lorkx Hopper seemed utterly bored by 
Captain Mashikgton. She said my dress wanted u taking up on the 
shoulders," and that the sleeves were exaggerated. (Ex ggerated ! 

I should hope they were ! ) Mr. Lorne Hopper seemed nice, and 
very quiet, and harmless at first, but it gradually came out that 
he does sketches at the piano in the style of Corney Grain, and what 
is worse, expects to be asked to do them. 

Lady Taymer implored us all to laugh, and we did our best to 
please our hostess ; but tha room was nearly empty in five minutes. 

At dinner. Baby talked of the bad taste and imbecility of practical 
jokes. In the evening, he wrote to seventeen periodicals denying 
he had written The Mauve Camellia, and asking to have it con- 
tradicted. We waltzed. Captain Mashikgton dances better than 
ever, and has nice eyes. That night I found hair-brushes in my 
bed, I see nothing funny in it, and shall not speak to Baby 
Beaumont until he apologises. 

Great excitement prevailed here last wetk. It was discovered that 
Sahovarski, the great Russian pianist, was in the neighbourhood. 
He accepted an invitation to come here for two days. Imagine the 
joy of the Lyon Taymers ! They sent out invitations with *' To 
meet M. Samovarski," printed on the cards. He is known to be 
rather erratic, but as he was actually to stay in the house it seemed 
quite safe. Thirty-six people came to a dinner in his honour. 

Samovarski arrived at seven, asked for some lager beer, and 
went straight to bed. Nothing on earth would induce him to get 
up, or even to unlock his door or answer an inquiry. It was a 
terrible evening. The Taymers hoped on for the next day. The 
great composer got up at two. Many people had stayed on the 
chance of hearing him play. It was a beautiful day, and Lady 
Taymer entreated to be allowed to drive him round the neighbour- 
hood. He declined , and spent the whole afternoon playingpiquet wit h 
his secretary. At dinner, he talked absurdities about the Chinese war, 
refusing even to mention music— which it seems he detests — and then, 
verv courteously, begged to be excused, as he had to correct the proofs 
of his article " Impressions of English Country Life" for some Moscow 
joilrnal. ... Do not mention the subject to the Taymers when you 
see them. We are going to have private theatricals ! ! I will write 

again soon. 

Your loving friend, 


October 20, 1894.] 




The Assistant- Reader has been at work, and makes the following 
report: — 

A pretty little volume is Mr. Anthony C. Deane's Holiday 
Rhymes (Henry & Co). That its merits are high may be safely 
inferred from the f aot that the largest instalment of its verses came 
from the [columns of Mr. Punch. Mr. Dsane handles his varied 
metres with great skill, his style is neat and pointed, his rhymes are 
above reproach,' and his satire, especially when he deals with 

literary and academic matters, hits hard and straight. And, though 
the author is a Deane, he never sermonises. But why not sermons 
in verse ? I commend the idea to Mr. Deane. He could carry it 
out excellently, and earn the thanks of oountless congregations. 

Messrs. Methijen are publishing a series of English Classics, 
edited by Mr. W. E. Henley. They have started with Tristram 
Shandy, and have persuaded a Mr. Charles Whtblet to introduce 
Laurence Sterne to the reading publio of the present day. 
4 * Permit me," ssys Mr. Whibley, in effect, "to present to your 
notice Laurence Sterne, plagiarist, sentimentalist, and dealer in 
the obscene," a right pleasant and comfortable introduction, setting 
ns all at our ease, and predisposing us at once in favour of 
the humble candidate for fame, whom Mr. Whibley alter- 
nately kioks and patronises. 'Tis pity (I have caught Mr. Whtb- 
xey's own trick) that Mr. Whiblet had not the writing of 
Tristram Shandy. He, at any rate— so he seems to think— 
would never have outraged our sense of decency, or moved us 
to " thrills of aesthetic disgust " by such platitudes as My Uncle 
Toby's address to the fly. Rabelais, it appears (Mr. Whibley has 
got Rabelais on the brain, he is Pantagruelocephalous), Rabelais 
may steal a horse, but Sterne must not look over a hedge.. One 
may have no wish to defend the " indecencies " of Sterne, but to 
condemn them by contrasting them with the efforts of Rabelais 
is a highly modernised form of criticism, of which 1 should scarcely 
have supposed even a Wbubley capable. On the whole, 1 cannot 

commend this introduction, with its jingling, tin-pot, sham-fantastic 
style. 1 feel inclined to cry out aloud with Master Peter \ " Plain- 
ness, good boy ; do not you soar so high ; this affectation is scurvy." 
And why is Mr. Whibley so hard upon the suburbs ? His own 
manner of writing is exoellently calculated to fascinate Clapham, 
and move Peckham Rye to an enthusiasm of admiration. 

Messrs.. Chatto and Windus have brought to a happy conclusion 
theis^i nimgntal work of republishing the Campbell and Stebbino 
tnn^mti&vtThiers' History of the Consulate and Empire. It is in 
twelve%eaflyjWTid, conveniently sized, admirably printed volumes, 
illustrated wuBtoany steel engravings. A little soon, perhaps, to talk 
of Christmjqflpents. But if there be any amiable uncle or fairy god- 
mother kept TFwake o' nights wondering what they shall give for 
Christmas box to Dick, Tom or Harry, here 's the very thing for him, 
her and them. The volumes comprise a library in themselves, and 
their study is a liberal education. Since the world began there is no 
human life that possesses for humanity an interest keener or more 
abiding than that of Napoleon. Sometimes for a while it seems to 
sleep, only to awaken with freshened vigour. The Napoleon cult is 
one of the most prominent features of to-day. The Presses of Paris, 
London and New York teem with new volumes of reminiscences, 
letters or diaries, all about Napoleon. Thiers' massive work has 
stood the test of time and will ever remain a classic. To us who read 
it to-day it has the added interest of its author's personality, and the 
sad labour of his dosing years. It is pretty to note how Thiers, 
writing before the creation of the Third Empire, for which this book 
did much to pave the way, shrinks from mentioning Waterloo. For 
him it is " the battle after the day of Ligny and Quatre Bras." We 
are well into his detailed account of the great fight before we re- 
cognise the plains of Waterloo. Thiers does not disguise his effort 

to extol the Prussians at the expense of the English. It was Bluchbr. 
not Wellington, who won the fight the Prussians call the Battle ot 
La Belle Alliance, Napoleon the Battle of Mont St. Jean, and 
the presumptuous English Waterloo. The patriotic and therefore 
irascible Frenohman little thought the day would dawn on France 
when it would learn of a battle more calamitous even than Waterloo. 
Still less did he perpend that he himself would make the personal 
acquaintance of the Prussians in circumstances analagous to those 
amid which, on a July day in 1815, three plenipotentiaries set forth 
from Paris to meet the foreign invaders t ana sue for terms that 
should, as far as possible, lessen the humiliation of the occupation 
of the French capital 

I confess I am disappointed with Anthony Hope's The God in the 
Car. Some of the dialogue is in his very best ' ' Dolly " comedy- vein. 
The last interview between hero and heroine is admirably written. 
But it is not "in it " with his most originally conceived story of 
The Prisoner of Zenda. The title requires explanation, and you 
don't get the explanation until the climax, which explanation is 
as unsatisfactory as the title. " The hazy finish is," quoth the 
Baron. " to my thinking, artistic." " What beoomes of the lady P 
what becomes of the lover P " are questions the regular romance- 
reader will put. And the replyis evidently the old one, on which 
no improvement is possible, Whatever you please my little dear, 
you pays your money and you takes your choice." But it is well 
worth reading, and our friend "the Skipper," who "knows the 
ropes," will find there are some, though not very frequent, oppor- 
tunities for his mental gymnastic exercise. 

The Baron de Book-Worms. 


Mr Queen, Mayonnaise ! Oh, give ear to thy lover— 

Oh, pity his passion, my sweet Mayonnaise I 
Just one glance from those eyes which (like eggs of the plover !) 

Can kill— (or be cooked)— in a hundred of ways I 

When first I beheld thee my thoughts 
flew unbidden 
To dishes I 'd eaten— so fair to the eye. 
That I've looked and I've looked till 
the flavour they 've hidden 
Was forgot at the sight of the dish, 
or the pie. 

Oh, grant that our loves, like potage d 
la creme, 
Flow gently and smoothly along 
through the days. 
(To me it's the same, for though 
Mabel 's thy name, 
To me thou art ever my sweet " Mayonnaise.") 

White as snow are thy teeth that, like riz d VAnglaise^ 
Shine forth between lips red as sauce Screrisse ; 

And the truffle-like beauty-spot nestles and says, 
41 Come and kiss next the dimple and taste, dear, of bliss 1 " 

Dinde de Bresse is not plumper nor fairer than thee ; 

And thy gown and its trimmings thy beauties enhance. 
None so sweet in the country of Gruye're and Brie, 

Where St. Sauce counts for more than St. Louis of France. 

Nay, turn not your head. Never blush portugaise 9 

Be tender as chaufroid of veal a la retne— 
(A dish for the gods !— not what Englishmen praise, 

Indigestible veal qui ne " reau " pas la pain !) 

Hot as sauce rSmoulade though thy temper may be — 
Though caprice sail thy thoughts till thy brain y n panache^- 

I '11 love thee and love thee— I swear it by thee ! — 
The roast thou shalt rule, by night and by day ! 

My Queen, Mayonnaise, oh give ear to my prayer ! 

Be mv love— be my wife I Come, Mayonnaise dear, 
And to Paris we '11 fly, and at Bionon's we '11 fare, 

And the evening we'll spend at the ifentis-Plaisirs ! 

Though Tortoni 's no more, we mav still taste of joy, 
For I wot of a house where a goddess might eat— 

Where the palate 's not worried, the dishes don't cloy, 
Where to eat is to live, and to drink is a treat ! 

Behold, Mayonnaise, I 'm the slave of thy wishes— 

A lover devoted wno cannot do less 
Than to set on thy table the daintiest dishes : 

So the man thou mayst love, while the oook thou dost bless 

New Arrangement op Motto for the French {Suggested 
QaUus Anti- GaUicanus).—" Liberty Ill-SgaliiS t Fratemiti 7 " 

tol. cm. 



[October 20, 1894. 


^ Digitized by 


October 20, 1894.] 




The Special Correspondent 
44 doing " the Church Congress 
at Exeter for the Morning Post. 
when remarking on the clerical 
costume* in the prooesaion to the 
Cathedral, told ns that among 
the ** college oaps " i.e. " mor- 
tar-boards," (which of course 
go with the university gown 
or clerical surplice,) and 
44 birettas," (which, being 
Italian, are not certainly part 
of English academical or 
•ceLetiastioal costume,) there 
appeared a " tall hat," i.e. 
the topper of private life, 
which, as it happens, is part 
of the Academical Master 
of Arts costume, and there- 
fore, though unbecoming in a 
procession of mortar-boards 
and birettas, is yet unassail- 
able from a purely academic 
and Cantabrigian point of view. 
It may not be " Oxonian," by 
the way • but if the wearer 
were an Oxford man he would 
know best. Now, if the hat, pre- 
sumably black.had been a white 
one t White is the surplice : 
why not the hat P White is the 
emblem of purity, although, 
sad to say, when associated 
with a hat, it used at one time 
to be provocative of an inquiry 
as to the honesty of the wearer 
in regard to the surreptitious 
possesion of a donkey. Has 
anybody anywhere ever seen 
a parson, whether M.A. or 
noC in a white hat P Surely 
such a phenomenon must rank 
with the defunct postboy and 
dead donkey. This will be 
one of the inquiries to whioh 
clerical costume at ecclesiasti- 
cal Exeter must naturally give 
rise. Perhaps the top- hatted 
clergyman was a Freemason, 
wearing this as emblematic of 
a 4< tiled lodge." 


Hungry Saxon {just arrived, with equally hungry family). "Well, how — 


Wash ? " Scotch Lassie. " Oh, jist onything ! " 

H. S. {rubbing his hands in anticipation). "Ah I Now we'll have a 


Lassie. " A— wsel. We 'll be haein' some Steak here maybe by 
the Boat t the Morn's morn 1 " 

H. S. {a little crestfallen). "Oh— well— Chops then. We'll say 
Mutton Chops." 

Lassie. "Oh, ay, but we 'vb no been killin' a Sheep the day 1" 

[Ends up with boiled eggs, and vows to remain at home for the future. 


This is a dreadful cry to 
raise. Let's hope it is not 
anywhere near the truth. 
Says the Emperor, t.«. the 
chairman of the Empire 
(Theatre), "There will beonly 
one effect should the County 
Council endorse the decision 
of its Licensing Committee. 
The Empire Theatre will be at 
once closed, as it would be im- 
possible to carry it on under 
such absurd restrictions." 
Snoh is the Imperial ukase 
issuing from Leicester Square. 
And the Emperor is right. 
This ** grandmotherly legis- 
lation," however well-inten- 
tioned the grandmothers, may 
be all very well for " babes 
and sucklings," but then 
babies in arms are not ad- 
mitted to the Empire, and 
those babes of older growth 
who have evidently been par- 
tskiog too freely of "the 
bottle" are strictly excluded 
by the I. C. 0. or Imperial 
Chuckers Out. No doubt 
London common sense will 
ultimately prevail, even in the 
Court of the London County 
Council, and the Empire will 
soon be going stronger than 

Motley Reflection.— 
What better name for an his- 
torian than "Motley "P Not 
in the buffoonio sense of the 
term ; not when, to change 
the spelling. " Motley is your 
only ware"; but as imply- 
ing a variety of talents as 
equal as the patches in the 
perfect dress of a harlequin. 
Of course the pen is the wand. 
What transformations cannot 
the Motley historian bring 
about ! A monster becomes a 
man, and a man a monster. 


Oa Tub Chinee Boy and the Japanese 
Butterfly Bumblebee. 

Air—" Little Ah Sid." ( With Apologies to 
Mr. Louis Meyer.) 

tie An Sid 

Je in on -faced kid, 
1&& old as an ape's ; 
-of- a- gun, 
Id of his fun, 
Fen to frolics and japes. 
' i way, 
As Ah Sid was at play, 
A big bumblebee new in the spring. 
4 * Jap butterfly!" 
Criea he, winking his eye ; 
44 Me catchee and pull off um wing ! " 

44 Kit/a, kiya, k\ 


ukakan .' 

Kxya, kiya, kmnye t yuk 
Kiya % kiya, yukakan f " 

Sang little Ah Sid, 

That elderly kid. 
As he went for that bee from Japan. 

He made a sharp snap 
. At the golden-ring* df chap, 
That innocent butterfly-bee, 

Which buzzed and which bummed, 

And circled and hummed 
Round the head of that little Chinee. 

He guessed not the thing 

Had no end of a sting, 
As he chased him in malice secure, 

And he cried with a grin, — 

4 4 Buzzy- wuzzy no win ! 
Me mashee um buttlefly, sure ! " 

11 Kiya, My a, kyipye, yu 
Kiya % kiya yukakan ! " 

Sang little Ah Sid, 

The Celestial-kid, 
As he after " dm buttlefly" ran. 

Little Ah Sid 

Was a pig-headed kid 
(As well as pig-tailed). Could he guess 

What kind of a fly 

Was buzz-wuzzing hard by, 
Till he grabbed him— with stinging sue- 


yukakan ! 

"Kiya, kyipye.'" 
Yelled Ah Sid, as that bee 

Stung him hard in a sensitive spot. 
Kiya yukakan ! 
Hang um Japanese man, 

Um buttlefly velly much hot ! " 

4 * Um hurt me, um did, 
Um buttlefly bites— in Japan ! I ! " 

Modern Mangeks.— Nearly all hotel ad- 
vertisements prominently announce as among 
the principal attractions of each establish- 
ment " separate tables." It looks as if the 
41 all-together- too&-<f Aote-system " had failed 
by reason of " incompatibility of temper." 
Hence the divoroaajLmeftsd. The long table 
with all the noses TuWUf '*•■» ut Ihu J ceding- 
trough is by this time a remnant of barbarism. 
Yet the " boxes " oorfsws to the old eating- 
houses, such for example, as may still be 
seen in some parts of London both east and 
west, were " pernicious snug" and sufficiently 
private, too, for business conversation ana 
confidential communications. 

Sebiou8, Veey! Latest fbok China.— 
The Emperor has been consulting his physi- 
cian, who. after careful diagnosis, has pro- 
nounoed "Tung in bad condition, and Lung 




[October 20, 1894. 




(A Story in Scenes.) 


Scene XXV.— The Chinese Drawing Room. Time— About 9.45 p.m. 

Mrs. Earwaker. Yes, dear Lady Lullington, I've always 
insisted on each of my girls adopting a distinct line of her own, 
and the result has been most satisfactory. Louisa, my eldest, is 
literary : she had a little story accepted not lone ago by The Milky 
Way ; then Maria is musical ; practises regularly three hours every 
day on her violin. Fanny has become quite an expert in photo- 
graphy— kodaked her father the other day in the act of trying a 
difficult stroke at billiards ; a back view—but so clever and charac- 

Lady Lullington (absently). A baok view ? How nice ! 

Mrs. Earw. He was the only one of the family who didn't recog- 
nise it at once. Then my youngest, Caroline— well, I must 
that for a long time I was quite in despair about Caroline. 
really looked as if there was no single 
thing that she had the slightest bent 
or inclination for. So at last I thought 
she had better take up Religion, and 
make that her speciality. 

Lady Lull, (languidly). Religion ! 
How very nice ! 

Mrs. Earw. Well, I got her a Chris- 
tian Year and a covered basket, and 
quantities of tracts, and so on; but, 
somehow, she didn't seem to get on with 
it. So I let her give it up; and now 
she's tone in for poker-etching instead. 

Lady Lull, (by an act of unconscious 
cerebration). Poker-etching! How very 
very nice ! {Her eyelids close gently. 

Lady Rhoda. Oh, out indeed, Lady 
Culverin, I thought he was perfectly 
oharmin' ; not a bit booky, you know, 
but as clever as he can stick ; knows 
more about terriers than any man I ever 
met ! 

Lady Culverin. So glad you found 
him agreeable, my dear. I was half 
afraid ne might strike you as— well, just 
a little bit common in his way of talking. 

Lady Rhoda. Pr'aps— but, after all, U 
one can't expect those sort of people to \h\ 
talk quite like we do ourselves, can one ? Of 

Lady Cantire. Is that Mr. Spurrell y 
you are finding fault with, Albinia'.P 
It is curious that you should be the 

one person here who I consider 

him a very worthy and talented young 
man^ and I shall most oertainly ask him 
to dinner— or lunch, at. all events— as 
soon as we return. If daresay Lady 
Rhoda'wUI not object. to'oome'and meet 

Lady Rhoda. Rather not. J'U'oome, 
like a shot ! 

Lady Culv. (to herself). I suppose 
it's very silly of me to be so prejudiced. 
Nobody else seems to mind him ! .. T . , a ., ,. ... . ... ,. 

Miss Spelwane (crossing over to them). *** and Hour-oouldn t possibly missjum. 

her suggestion- if it can be carried out ; it would at least provide 
a welcome relief from the usual after-dinner dullness of this sort of 
Miss Svelte. Then— would you ask him, Lady Cantire P 
Lady Cant. I, my dear ? Ton forget that Jam not hostess here. 
My sister-in-law is the proper person to do that. 

Lady Culv. Indeed I oouldn t. But perhaps, Vivien, if yon liked 
to suggest it to him, he might— 

Miss Speltc. I'll try, dear Lady Culverin. And if my poor 
little persuasions have no effect, I shall fall back on Lady Cantire, 
and then he canH refuse. I must go and tell dear Lady Lul- 
lington— she '11 be so pleased ! (To herself, as she skims away.) I 
generally do get my own way. But I mean him to do it to please Me! 
Mrs. Chatteris (a little later, to Lady M aisie). Have you heard what 
a treat is in store for us P That delightful Mr. Spurrell is going to 
give us a reading or a recitation, or something, from his own poems ; 
at least, Miss Spelwane is to ask him as soon as the men come in. 
Only /should have thought that he would be much more likely to 
consent if you asked him. 

Lady Maisie. Would you P I'm sure 
I don't know why. 

Mrs. Chatt. (archly). Oh, he took me 
in to dinner, you know, and it 's quite 
wonderful how people confide in me, 
but I suppose they feel I can be trusted. 
He mentioned a little fact, which gave 
me the impression that a certain fair 
lady* s wishes would be supreme with 

Lady Maisie (to herself). The wretch! 
He has been boasting of my unfortunate 
letter! (Aloud.) Mr. Spurrell had 
no business to give you any impression 
of the kind. And the mere fact that 
I — that I happened to admire his 

Mrs. Chatt. Exactly 1 Poets' heads 
are so easily turned ; and, as I said to 

Captain Thicenesse 

Lady Maisie. Captain Thicenesse! 

You have been talking about it— to him! 

Mrs. Chatt. I'd no idea you would 

mind anybody knowing, or I would 

never have dreamed of I've such 

Oh. Lady Culverin, Lady Lullington has such a delightful idea 
— she '8 just been saying how very very nice it would be if Mr. 
Spurrell could be persuaded to read some of his poetry aloud to us 
presently. Do you think it could be managed ? 

Lady Ctdv. (in distress). Really, my dear Vivien, I— I don't know 
what to say. I fancy people would so much rather talk— don't you 
think so, Kohbsia ? 

Lady Cant. Probably they would, Albinia. It is most unlikely 
that they would care to hear anything more intellectual and 
instructive than the sound of their own voices. 

Miss Spelw. I told Lady Lullington that I was afraid you would 
think it a bore, I^ady Cantire. 

Lady Cant. You are perfectly mistaken, Miss Spelwane. I 
natter myself I am quite as capable of appreciating a literary 
privilege as anybiJy here. But I cannot answer for its being 
acceptable to the majority. 

Lady Ctdv. No, it wouldn't do at all. And it would be making 
this young man so much too conspicuous. 

Lady Cant. You are talking nonsense, my dear. When you are 
fortunate enough to secure a celebrity at Wyvern, you can't make 
Mm^ioov conspiouous, I never knew that Laura Lullington had 
any taste for literature before, but there's something to be said for 

a perfect horror of gossip ! It took me 
so much by surprise, that I simply 
couldn't resist ; but I can easily tell 
Captain Thtcknesse it was all a mistake ; 
he knows how fearfully inaccurate I 
always am. 

Lady Maisie. I would rather you 
said nothing more about it, please ; it is 
really not worth while contradicting 
anything so utterly absurd. (To her- 
self) That Gerald— Captain Thice- 
nesse— of all people, should know of my 
letter ! And goodness only knows what 
storv she may nave made out of it ! 

Mrs. Chatt. (to herself as she motes 
away). I 've been letting my tongue run 
away with me, as usual. She's not the 
original of " Lady Grisoline," after all. 
Perhaps he meant Vivien Spelwane— 
the description was much morejjke her! 
Pilliner (who hasj'ust entered with some of the 
Miss Spelwane). what are you doing with these 
we all to sit in a circle, like Moore and B urges 
not going- to set the poor dear Bishop down to 
How perfectly barbarous of you ! 

Miss Spelw. The chairs are being arranged for something much 
more intellectual. We are going to get Mr. Spurrell to read a 
poem to us, if you want to know. I tola you I should manage it 

Pill. There 'e only one drawback to that highly desirable arrange- 
ment. The bard, with prophetic foreknowledge of your designs, has 
unostentatiously retired to roost. So I 'm afraid you '11 have to do 
without your poetry this evening— that is, unless you care to avail 
yourself again of my services P 

Miss Spelw. (indignantly) . It is too mean of you. You must have 
told him I [He protests his innocence. 

Lady Rhoda. Archie, what's become of Mr. Spurrell ? I par- 
ticularly want to ask him something. 

Bearpark. The poet? He nipped upstairs— as I told you illi]^ 
he meant to— to scribble " * * " '"'' 

suppressed grin) Id 

Captain Thickness % „_ .„.. — V1 — .~ ™_. -,. ^— ____ y 
next ners in the corner there for somebody. Can it be for that poet 

October 20, 1894.] 



chap P . . ( He meet Lady Mamie's eye suddenly.) 
she means' it for me ! . . I 've half a mind— — 

Great Soott! If 
No, I shall be a 
fool if I lose such a chance ! (He crosses, arid drops into the vacant 
chair next hers.) I may at here, mayn't I P v .?.3? 

Lady Maisie (simply). I meant yon to. We used to he such good 
friends ; it's a pity to have misunderstandings. And — and I want 
to ask you what that silly little Mrs. Chatteris has been telling you 
at dinner about me. 

Cant. rAtf&.lWell, she was sayin , - i -and I must say I don't under- 
stand it, after your tellin' me you knew nothing about this Mr. 
Spurrell till this afternoon 

Lady Maisie. But I don't. And I— I did offer to explain, but you 
said you weren't curious ! 

c Cant. Thick. Didn't want you to tell me anything that perhaps 
you 'd rather not, don't fou know. Still, I should like to know how 
this poet chap came to write a poem all about you, and call it " Lady 
Grisoline." if he never 

Lady Maisie. But it 's too ridiculous ! How could he P When he 
never saw me, that I know of, in all his life before ! 

CapL Thick. He told Mrs. Chatteris you were the original of 
his "Lady Grisoline" anyway, and really 

Lady Maisie. He dared to tell her that? How disgracefully 
impertinent of him. ( To herself. ) So long as he hasn't talked about 
my letter, he may say what he pleases ! 

Capt. Thick. But what was it you were goin' to explain to me P 
You said there was somethin' 

Lady Maisie (to herself). It's no use ; I 'd sooner die than tell him 
about that letter now ! (Aloud.) I— I only wished you to under- 
stand that, whatever I think about poetry— I detest poets ! 

Lady Cant. Yes. as you say, Bishop, a truly Augustan mode of 
recreation. Still, Mr. Spurrell doesn't seem to have come in yet, so 
I shall have time to hear anything you have to say in defence of 
your opposition to Parish Councils. 

[The Bishop resigns himself to the inevitable. 

Archie (in Pilltner 8 ear). Ink and flour — couldn't possibly miss 
him ; the bard 's got a matted head this time, and no mistake. 

Pill. Beastly bad form, /call it— with a fellow you don't know. 
You '11 get yourself into trouble some day. And you couldn't even 
manage vour ridiculous booby-trap, for here the beggar comes, as if 
nothing had happened. , 

Archie (disconcerted). Confound him! The best booby-trap I 
ever made I 

The Bishop. My dear Lady Cantirb, here is our youthful poet, 
at the eleventh hour. (To himself.) " Sic me servavit Apollo 1 " 
[Miss Spelwane advances to meet Spurrell, who stands sur- 
veying the array of chairs in blank bewilderment. 


[" Poor Mrs. Leo Hunter has fallen on evil days. ... It ii the lions 
themselves that are lacking. ... We hare fallen upon an age of prancing 
mediocrity."— The World, October 10.] 

niRS is our extremity, whose laudable persistence 
In tracking down celebrities is undiminished still. 

We 're quick enough to mark bur prey, we soent him at a distance, 
But seldom is our watchfulness rewarded by a " kill." 

There are bears indeed in plenty, there are owls with strident voices, 
And jackanapes in modern days are seldom hard to find, 

But the genuine British Lion, in whom our heart rejoices, 
Seems almost to have vanished from the dwellings of mankind ! 

And even if we find him, after herculean labour. 
Apart from festive drawing-rooms he resolutely roams, 

Dipgracef uHy forgetful of his duty to his neighbour 
He quite declines to dignify our dinners and At Homes 

Too often those we ask are unaccountably prevented 
From hastening, as we wanted them, " ta£*come and join the 

And so, in these degraded times, we have to W contented 
With quite inferior persons, mediocrities who " prance." 

Yes. " prancing mediocrity "—^sweet phrase ! — no doubt expresses 
The decadent young poet, with the limp and languid air, » * 

last pianist with the too-abundant tresse*. 
playing is— well, only less eccenf rio than hi 

s hair. 

The very 

So. Mr. Punch, we hostesses regard you with affection, 
And now thai our calamity and trouble yon have heard, 

If any happy circumstance should bring in vour direction 
A really nice young lion— would you kindly send us word ? 

New Novel 

by the Author of "The 

Manxman."— The 

[Not yet ready. 


. (A QoiewrabU Imitation t) 

It [was a splendid scarlet afternoon, and the little garden-looked 
its gayest in the midsummer sunshine which streamed down its tiny 
paths. Yellow asters strew golden in the pale lemon light, whilst 
f he green carnations which abounded everywhere seemed so natural 
that it was difficult to believe they had been 
wired on to the plants that morning by a 
London firm of "florists. That was a plan on 
which Cecil Paragraph always insisted. As 
he was so fond of saying, Nature was a dear 
old thing; but she lacked inventiveness. It 
was only an outworn convention which ob- 
jected to gilding the lily, or colouring the 
carnation. So the London florists always came 
each morning to oonvert the garden into a 
pink rhapsody. 
Lord Archie (he was not a Lord really, but 
J Cecil always insisted that a title was a 

matter of temperament) and Cecil were sitting out on the lawn. 
Clever c onver sation always takes place on the lawn. Cecil and 
Ix>rd Archie smoked high-priced cigarettes. The witty characters 
always do. 

44 My dear Archie," said Cecil, " I have something important to 
tell you." 

"Jf you were not Cecil Paragraph, that would mean that the 
milkman had called to have his account paid, or that Mart— or is it 
Martha ?— had given notice. It 's like letters headed 4 Important,'— 
a prospectus of a gold mine, or a letter from a distant relative to say 
he '8 coining to stay the week-end. Saying 4 week-end ' always re- 
minds me of the Baron de Book- Worms. I fancy myself haggling 
for a cheap ticket at a booking-office." 

44 Archie, you 've prattled enough. Remember it is I who am 
expected to fill the bill. Archie. I am writing a book." 
|| A book P You will let me collaborate with you ? " 
44 Collaboration is the modern method of evading; responsibility. 
A genius moves in a cycle of masterpieces, but it is never a cycle 
made for two.* It* reminds me of the book by Mr. Eider Haggard 
and Mr. Lang. Too late Mr. Haggard found that he had killed the 
goose which laid the golden eggs. He had lost the notices which his 
collaborator could no longer write." 

44 But it is so much trouble to write a book. Would not a purple 
newspaper article effeot your purpose ? " 

44 One would think I was Mr. Athelstan Riley, or the Independ- 
ent Labour Party, to hear you talk of effecting my purpose. But 
in any case the book 's the thing." 

44 Tell me, Cecil, tell me about your book," said Lord Archie, 
with the ardour of a disciple of Cecil's. 

44 It will be called The Blue Gardenia. The title is one of the 
unemployed ; it has nothing to do with the 

44 1 fancy I remember that Mr. Barry Pain 
said that once before." 

44 No doubt. The clumsiness of acknowledg- 
ment is what makes the artist into an artisan. I 
am like Mr. Balfour, I do not hesitate'to shoot 
—into my treasury the pearls of speech I have 
gathered from others, ana then, Archie, I shall 
not lack the art of personal allusion. If my 
characters go out into the village and see the vil- 
lage clergymen, I shall make him the Archbishop 
of Canterbury. People like it. They say it 's 
rude, but they read the book and repeat the 
rudeness. I shall be frankly rude. Minor poets 
and authors and actors will all be fair game. 
You suggest the publisher may object. To tell 
you the truth, any man will publish for me. 
The book will succeed— it is only mediocrities 
who indulge in failure— and the puhlio will 
tumble over one another in their mad rush 
epigrams of genius." 
, " And I will write a flaming favourable notice in the Dodo." 

44 You will do me no such unkindness, I am sure, my dear Archie. 
To be appreciated is to be found out." 

And so plucking as they went the green carnations of a blameless 
life, they went in to dinner. 

The Tale op J. B.; or, 44 The Prisoner of Salta."— 44 J. B. 
is sly, Sir— devilish sly:" but the present J. B., not the Major 
Bagstock of Dombey ana Son. but the minor Jabez Balfour, nas 
not yet, as reported, managed to escape from the prison of Salta, the 
authorities having contrived to put a little Salt-a r pon his tail. I? u 
est, il y reste. led b^T wH 



[October 20, 18M. 



Hostess (of Upper Tooting, showing new house to Friend). "We're vert proud of this Room, Mrs. Hominy. 
Upholsterer did it up just as you srs it, and all our Friends think it was Liberty!" 

Visitor (sotto voee). "'Oh, Liberty, Liberty, how many Crimes are committed in thy NameI'" 

Our own little 


Lady m Possession loquitur : — 
Ah, well ! They keeps a rouging up, these 

papers, or a trying to, 
But /don't think they 'U oust us yet, as 

hobvious they 're a-aying to. 
Their Rogebsrribs, and their Hasxwtdoes 

and 'Erbbrt Gladsttngs 'urry up, 
As per wire-pulling horders; and they tries 

to keep the flurry up, 
But somehow it 's a fizzle, like a fire as keeps 

on smouldery, 
And the public, when they 'd poke it up, 

looks chilly and ooid-shouldery. 

Drat 'em, what do they want to do P Their 

44 demmy cratio polity " 
Means nothink more nor less than sheer 

upsetting of the Quality ! 
They'd treat the Hupper Ten like srimps, 

pull off their 'eds and sweller 'em ; 
And when they raves agin our perks, thoy 

only longs to collar 'em. 
Down with all priwilege indeed? Wy, 

priwilege is the honly thing 
As keeps hus from the wildernedge. I 'm 

but a poor, old, lonely thing, 
But if thoy mends or ends the Lords— wich 

'evvin forbid they ever do ! — 
They 'U take my livelyhood away ! No, drat 

it, that will never do ! 
A world without no priwilege, no piokings, 

and no perks in it, 
Wy— 'twould be like Big Ben up there if it 

'ad got no works in it. 

These demmyoratio levellers is the butchers 

of Society, 
They'd take its tops and innards off and 

nout. Jloveswariety. 

Them Commons is a common lot, as like all 

round as winkleses. 
But Marquiges— lord bless 'em !— they is like 

bright stars as twinkleses 
And makes the sky respectable ; and its a 

old, old story 
As stars— and kkeways garters— must 'ave 

differences in glory. 
"Wy, even street lamps wary, and I says the 

narrystooraoy [the democracy 

Is like to 'eavenly 'leotrio lights outshining 
As the Clock-towers 'fulgenoe do the flare at 

some fried-fish shop, Mum. 
Oh, there 's a somethink soothing in a Dook, 

or Earl, or Bibhop, Mum, 
As makes yer mere M.P.'s sing small, as may 

be taUer-chandlerses. 
Its henvy, Mum, that 's wot it is, they 've got 

the yaller janderses 
Along o' bilious jealousy ; though wy young 

Kooeberby ever diet 
Allow hisself to herd with them— well, drat 

. it, there, I never did ! — 
As long as I can twirl a mop or sluice a floor 

or ceiling for 
The blessed Peers, I '11 'old with 'em, as I 've 

a feller feeling for. 
Birds of a feather flock— well, well ! I 'ope I 

knows my place. I do ; 
Likeways that 1 shall keep it. Wich I think 

it a 'ard case, I do. 
This downing on Old Women ! 

'Owsomever, Mister Mobxby is 
A long ways from his hobjeot yet. The House 

o r Lords, Mum, surely is 
Most different from Jericho, it will not fall 

with shouting, Mum, 
Nor yet no platform trumpets will not down 

it, there's no doubting, Mum. 

Their tongues and loud Bad ram's-horns do 
their level best to win it. Mum. 

But— they ain't got iid of Hue— not yet,— 
nor won't direckly-minute, Mum ! 

From the Birmingham Festival.— Ab 
eminent musician sends us this note: — 
Nothing Brummagem about the Birmingham 
Festival Dr. Parry's oratorio, King Saul, 
a big success. Of course this subject has been 
Handel' d before ; but the composer of King 
Saul, Junior, (so to be termed for sake of 
distinction, and distinction it has certainly 
attained,) need fear no oom-parry-songs. Per- 
haps another title might be, 4i Le Moi Saul 
a la mode de Parry" (Private, to Ed.— 
Shall be much pleased if you '11 admit this as 
a Parry-graph.) 

Hope Dispelled.— The music-hall pro- 
prietors must have been in high spirits at the 
commencement of the sittings of the Licens- 
ing Committee when they heard that "Mr. 
Roberts" was to be the chairman. Of 
course, to them there is but one M Roberts," 
which bis prenom is " Arthur " — and un- 
fortunately there appeared as chairman "not 
this Arthur, but another." 

In the course of conversation, the other 
evening, Mrs. R. remembered that "The 
Margarine" is a German title. "Isn't 
there," she asked, " a Margarine of Hesse P " 

Anti-fatness.— Exoellent receipt for get- 
ting thin. Back horses, and vou will lose 
many pounds in no time. (Advice gratis by 
one who has tried it.) 






Digitized by 


Ootobhb 20, 1894.] 




{By a Commoner of the Nation.) 

As licensing day was approaohing, I thought it my duty to visit the 
Empire Theatre of Varieties in Leicester Square, so that if needs be I 
could appear as a witness either for the prosecution or the defence. 
I am happy to say that my expedition has put me in a position to join 
the garrison. From first to last— from item No. 1 to item No. 10— 
the entertainments at the Empire are exoellent. And in this 
x general praise I am able to include ** Living 

Pictures," which are all that even an 
arohbishop could wish that they should be. 
Bat the chief attraction of the evening is 
a new ballet divertissement in one tableau, 
called On Brighton PUr % which has 
evidently been put up to teach the members 
of the L. 0. G. how much better things are 
done in the Sussex watering place than in 
the great metropolis. According to "the 
Argument," when the scene opens, people 
are promenading in the sun, and some 
gentlemen bribe the bath chairmen to give 
up their places in the evening so that tney 
may flirt with the girls accompanying the 
invalids." But possibly as an afterthought 
this was thought a little too strong for the 
Censor of Spring Gardens. I found the 
" gentlemen" (most of them in high white 
hats), and then I discovered the bath chair- 
men, but there was nothing to lead me to 
believe that the connecting links between 
the two were bribery and corruption. In 
addition to this plat d la Don Giovanni there were an entrie in the 
shape of a gathering of schoolboys and schoolgirls, a souffle in some 
military plus naval drill, and a piece de resistance in a change of 
scene from the deck of the Pier to the depths of the sea beneath it. 
And here let me say that I use resistance in a purely culinary sense, 
as nothing oould have worked more smoothly than the transformation. 
Madame Katti Lannek, by whom the ballet has been invented, is 
a past mistress in the art of concocting terpsiohorean trifles, and never 
admits any difficulty in combining the poetry of fancy with the 
actuality of fact. In her latest production she finds that after a while 
a change of scene is necessary. The public, after admiring the re- 
freshment stalls and the distant view of the Grand Hotel, want some- 
thing more. Certainly, why notP The daughter of an American 
millionaire, who has met a rather effeminate gentleman for the first 
time, overcome by the heat, falls asleep. Then, to quote from " the 
Argument," in her dream she sees sirens and sea-nymphs, led by the 
Queen CoraUe (Signorina Bice Porro), unsuooessf ully attempt to lure 
away her lover, but— awaking from her sleep — the vision disappears, 
and she finds him at her feet. All this was very pretty, and the 
scruples of the L. C. C. were considered by the lack of success of 
Queen CoraUe to shake the swain's fidelity to his betrothed. 
Although evidently interested in the dances of the sirens and sea- 
nymphs— in spite of their treating him with little or no attention— he 
was ultra discreet in making the acquaintance of her submarine 
majesty. When the Queen stood on one toe he merely accepted her 
invitation to hold her hand, and thus enable her to revolve on the 
tip of her right toe— but went no further. And really and truly, as 
a gentleman, it was impossible for him to do less. At any rate his 
oonduot was so unexceptional in Grace Dollar's dream, that his 
fiancee, who. according to "the Argument," had had "a slight 
quarrel with nim," immediately sought reconciliation. Besides the 
submarine interlude, On Brighton Pier has a serious underplot. 
Senora Dolares (Signorina Cavallazzi), who has been searching all 
over the world for her daughter, who had been stolen from her ten 
years ago, is personally conducted to the pleasant promenade off the 
beach. Husband and wife seemingly spend 
the entire day on the Pier. They are nere 
in the morning, in the sunshine, and here 
when the variegated lamps are lighted at 
night. The Senora is pleased at nothing. 
She regards the vagaries of a negro comedian 
with indifference, and does not even smile at 
the gambols of a clown dog. Suddenly a 
girl called Dora appears. And now once 
more to quote the Argument. " Dora plays 
upon her mandoline some melody the Senora 
Dolares recognises. She quickly asks the 
^ girl where she first heard it ; and Dora says 
that a lady used to sing it to her in her 
" I can eonscientiouriy early days, and that the same lady gave her 
recommend it.' a cro88f which she produces. The Senora, by 

means of the cross, recognises in Dora her long-lost child. Amid 
great excitement she leads her tenderly away [in the direction of the 

Hotel Metropole], and, after some further dances, the curtain falls." 
Nothing can be prettier, and more truly moral, than On Brighton 
Pier. I can conscientiously recommend it to every member of 
the L. 0. 0. isome will smile at the eocentrio danoe of Major 
Spooner (Mr. Will Bishop) ; others will grin at the more boisterous 
humour of Christopher Dollar (Mr. Johit Ridley) ; and all must 
weep at the depressed velvet coat of Don Diego (Mr. George 
Ashton), the husband of Senora Dolares, in search of a (compara- 
tively) long-lost daughter. Judging from the reception the ballet 
received the other evening, I fanoy that On Brighton Pier will 
remain on London boards for any length of time. 

" Taught him to smoke." 


[" Autolycus," in the Pall Mall Gazette of October 11, inveighs against 
the necessity of conversation between friends : — " If I find a girl nice to look 
at, and she has taken great pains to make herself nice to look at, why cannot 
we pass the evening, I looking at her, and she being looked at P But no, we 
must talk."] 

Undoubtedly, if conversation were abolished, " short stories" in 
the future would be still farther abbreviated. Here is a beautiful 
specimen of blank— or Anthony Hope-less— dialogue :— 


** ! " exclaimed Miss Nelly Eaton, suddenly, with her quivering 

**P" I asked with my right eyebrow, 
rousing myself from a fit of abstraction. 

She pointed at a young man who had just 
strolled past our seats in the Bow without 
noticing her. He was dressed in the height 
of fashion, and was accompanied by a lady 
in very smart attire. 

44 . . ." explained Nelly, with her mouth 
tightly shut. 

I looked at her, and gathered by a swift 
process of intuition that she had made that 
boy, and taught him to drink and smoke— 
of coarse, in moderation ; had got his hair 
out, and had rescued him from an adven- 
turess. From her he had learnt not to go to Monday Pops, nor to 
carry things about in brown paper— in fact, he owed everything to 
her . . . And now ! 

"§" I visibly oommented. not knowing for the moment how else 
to express myself. In fact I was getting just a trifle out of my 
depth. However, I gazed again at ner. . . . Yes, she had deeply 
eloquent blue eyes, fringed with dark eyelashes, that voiced forth 
every emotion ! Stay, I am afraid that in my admiration my speech- 
less remarks had wandered from the topio of our mute discussion. 

•* t " interjected her pitying but impatient glance, telling me that 
my devotion was useless. 

I looked very miserable. It is generally understood that I am the 
most miserable of men since Miss Eaton's engagement to an American 

[Here I am sorry to say that our dialogue becomes somewhat ellip- 
tical, owing to the difficulty of finding enough unappropriated 
printers' symbols to represent our different shades of silence. How- 
ever, with luck, I may be able to scrape together a few more, and 
oome to some sort of conclusion.'] 

Let me see— where were we r . . . Oh, on the subject of the 
boy and bis companion, who, it seems, were engaged. 

««•••» resumed Nelly, in a look which spoke three volumes. I 
divined at once that she had thrown him over, that there had been 
an awful scene, and his mother had written a horrid letter, that he 
had oome back and abjectly apologised, that he said she had destroyed 
his faith in women (the usual thing), that he 
went on sending letters for a whole year : in 
faot, that it made her quite uncomfortable. 
. . . Really, Nelly can give points to Loed 
Burleigh's nod! 

44 ?" inquired my right eye, meaning, had 
she not been in love with bim a little bit r 

Miss Nelly prodded the path with her 

** <j " I asked again, referring to a different 
person, and, I am afraid, squinting. 

Miss Nelly looked for the fraction of an 
instant in my direction. 

»«! i»I repeated. 

Miss Nelly looked straight in front of her. 
the American millionaire ! 

11 ! ! " That is, I smilingly withdrew. 

her fianci. 

Satisfactory Reports as to the Amber.— It was not an illness, 
it was " A mere indisposition." 

)igitized byVjQOvlC 



[Ootobib 20, 1891 




2 i 

UJ £ 

UJ * 

* R 

o e 

£ ^ 

S g 

Q. S 





Digitized by VjOOQJC 

Ootobsb 20, 1894.] 




gropos of a Public Favour- 
tie). — Mr. Punch wishes 
health and happiness to the 
bride of Sir William Gbb- 
goby, known to us all. during 
a long and honourable thea- 
trical career in the very first 
line of Dramatio Art, as Mrs. 
Stirling the incomparable, 
always of sterling worth in 
any piece wherein she took a 
part. She was always at her 
Best. Latterly she nas been 
chiefly associated with the 
Nurse in Borneo and Juliet. 
and no better representative of 
the character could ever have 
been seen on any stage. Her 
recent marriage has in it some- 
what of a Snaksperian asso- 
ciation, for were not the Nurse 
and Gregory both together in 
the same establishment, yclept 
the noble House of Capulet ? 
And what more natural that 
these two should come together, 
and "the Nurse to Juliet' 1 
should become the "wife to 
Gregory " P 

••Stopping" the Wat 
nr the Colonies.— Where 
British Colonists are first in 
the field^ be the field where 
it may, it is unwise to allow 
any non-Britishers to get as 
far as a semi-colony, but at 
once they should be made 
to come to a full-stop. As 
it is, Great Britain looks on 
in a state of com[tn)a, only 
to wake up with a note 
of exclamation, but not of 
admiration, when it is too 
late to put a note of interro- 


'What's Volapuk, Doctor Sohmitz!" 
"It is zb Unifersal Langvagb 1" 
" And who Speaks it ? " " Nopotty 1 " 

44 Citt Improvements."— 
The City isn't likely to lose 
any chance of a diff at the 
L. C. C. Last week, at a 
meeting of City Commis- 
sioners of Sewers at Guildhall, 
Alderman Green, — not so ver- 
dant by any means as the 
name would seem to imply,— 

Srotested arainst the great 
elay on the part of the 
L. C. C. in regard to the im- 

Srovements in Upper Thames 
treet So the London County 
Council is sitting considering 
"dum defluit annus"— re- 
presenting the * 4 amnis avi" 
— and while Upper Thames 
Street is, pace the ever Green 
Alderman, in a state of stag- 
nation as far as 4< improve- 
ments " are concerned. 

A Drouth - and - Mouth - 
Disease. — A curious disease, 
originating, it is said, in the 
East, has lately baffled medical 
men. It is called " beriberi. 1 ' 
Introduce another * 4 e" into the 
first and third syllable, and 
the name might serve for that 
thirsty kind of feverish state 
with which no Anti-olosing- 
of - the -public - at - any - time - 
Society is able to cope. 

" Prematuer?"— Per the 
Leadenhall Press, Mr. Tuer 
is bringing out a real old 
Horn-book, that is, a fac- 
simile of the ancient Horn- 
book. For years have we 
lonped to see the genuine 
article. It will be in Horna- 
mental cover, of course. "Suc- 
ccs au livre ae la come ! " 


Born 1809. Died October 7, 1894. 

"The Last Leaf!" Can it be true, 
We have turned it, and on you 

Friend of all? 
That the years at last have power ? 
That life's foliage and its flower 

Fade and fall? 

Was there one who ever took 
From its shelf, by chance, a book 

Penned by you, 
But was f ast your friend, for lif e, 
With one refuse from its strife 

Safe and true f 

Even gentle Ella's self 

Might be proud to share that shelf, 

Leaf to leaf, 
With a soul of kindred sort, 
Who could bind strong sense and sport 

In one sheaf. 

From that Boston breakfast table 
Wit and wisdom, fun and fable, 

Through all English-speaking places. 
When were Science and the Graces 


Of sweet singers the most sane, 
Of keen wits the most humane, 

Wide yet clear, 
like the blue, above us bent ; 
Giving sense and sentiment 

Each its sphere; 

With a manly breadth of soul, 
And a fancy quaint and droll ; 

Ripe and mellow : 
With a virile power of " hit," 
Finished scholar, poet, wit, 

And good fellow ! 

Sturdy patriot, and yet 1 
True world 's citizen ! Regret 

Dims our eyes 
As we turn each well-thumbed leaf ; 
Yet a glory 'midst our grief 

Will arise. 

Years your spirit oould not tame, 
And they will not dim your fame ; 

England ioys 
In your songs all strength and ease, 
And the " dreams " you '* wrote to please 

Grey-haired Soya.' 9 

And of such were you not one ? 
Age chilled not your Are or fun. 

Heart alive 
Makes a boy of a grey bard, 
Though his years De—-* 4 by the card"— 



Yomre, dark-eyed beauties, graceful, gay, 

So I expected you to be, 
Adorning in a charming way 

This silent City of the Sea. 
But you are very far from that ; 
You 're forty— sometimes more— and fat. 

Oh, girls of Venice! Woods, R.A,, 
Has frequently depicted you, 

Idealising, I should say— 

A thing that painters often do : 
Still, though your charms have left me cold, 
At least you are not fat and old ! 

Why should you. flower-sellers, then, 
Be so advanced in age and size P 

You cannot charm the foreign men, 
Who gaze at you in blank surprise. 

You hover round me— like a gnat, 

Each of you, but old and fat. 

Extremely troublesome you are, 
No gnats were ever half so bad, 

You dart upon me from afar, 
And do your best to drive me mad. 

Oh bother you, so overbold. 

Preposterously fat and old ! 

You buttonhole me as I drink 

My eaffe nero on the square, 
Stick flowers in my ooat, and think 

I can't refuse them. I don't care. 
I 'd buy them, just to have a chat, 
If you were not so old and fat* 

Oh go away ! I hate the sight 
Of flowers since that afternoon 

When first we met I think of flight, 
Or drowning in the still lagoon. 

I am, unlike your flowers, sold, 

You are so very fat and old. 


.... "His sleep 
Was aery light, from pur© digestion ' 
ParadUe Lest, B. V, 




[October 20, 1894. 


There is no doubt that one's first impres- 
sions are always the brightest and the best ; 
therefore I resolve to record the first impres- 
sions of a first visit to the Italian lakes. 

British Bellagio.—" Hotel Victoria, Prince 
de Guiles et des lies Britaimiques," or some 
such name, is usually, as Baedeker says, 
" frequented by the English." They are here 
oertainly, and one hears one's native lan- 
guage everywhere. There are the honey- 
moon couples, 
silent and re- 
served, who glare 
fiercely at anyone 
who might be 
supposed to im- 
agine for a mo- 
ment that they 
are newly mar- 
ried : there are 
people who con- 
verse in low mo- 
notonous voices 
about the wea- 
:^= t h e r, which 
3 Sp changes every 
N SMI A hour; there is an 
V' 1 * old lady, who 
gives one startling information, telling one, 
for instance, that Paul Veronese was born 
at Verona ; and there are two or three British 
menservants l gazing with superb disdain at 
the poor foreigners. The hotel is very quiet. 
The evening of a week-day is like Sunday 

evening, and Sunday evening is ! ! ! If 

only the weather were not also English, or 
even worse. On the last day of September 
the only warm place is by the fire in the 
fumoir. So let us hurry off from this wintry 
climate to somewhere, to anywhere. By the 
first boat we go. 

Still English everywhere. At Bellagio a 
great crowd, and heaps of luggage. At 
Cadenabbia a greater crowd, and more heaps 
of luggage. Here they come, struggling 
along the gangway in the wind. There is a 
sad-faced Englishman, his hands full of 
packages, his pockets stuffed with others, 
carrying under his arm a little old picture 
wrapped loosely in pink tissue paper, which 
the wind blows here and there. He is a for- 
getful man, for he wanders to and fro collect- 
ing his possessions. With him is another 
forgetful Englishman in very shabby clothes, 
who also carries packages in paper, and who 
drags after him an immensely fat bull-dog at 
the end of a cord five yards long, which 
winds round posts and human legs and other 
obstacles. At last they are all on board— the 
forgetful Englishmen have darted back for 
the last time to fetch in an ice-axe and an 
old umbrella— and on we go over the grey 
water, past the grey hills, under lie grey 
sky, towards Como. At Cernobbio the shabby 
Englishman lands, dragging his bull-dog at 
the end of the cord, and carrying in his 
arms two rolls of rugs, a bag, and other 
trifles. His sad-faced companion, still hold- 
ing his tiny Old Master in tne ever-diminish- 
ing pink paper, wanders in and out seeking 
forgotten treasures, an ice-axe, a bag, another 
paper parcel. Finally all are landed, the 
gangway is withdrawn, the steamer begins to 
move. Suddenly there is a shout. The shabby 
Englishman has forgotten something. The 
sympathetic passengers look round. There is 
a solitary umbrella on a seat. No doubt 
that is his. A friendly stranger cries, " Is 
this yours P" and tosses it to him on the 
a nay. Then there is another shout. '* Ach 
Himmel, dat is mine ! " The frantic German 
waves his arms, the umbrella is tossed back, 
he catches it and is happy. But meanwhile 
another English man, the most egregious ass 

that ever lived, has discovered yet another 
solitary umbrella, which he oasts wildly into 
space. For one moment the captain, the pas- 
sengers, the people on the quay, gaze breath- 
less as it whirls through the air. It falls 
just short of the landing-stage, and sinks into 
the grey waters of that chilly lake, never 
more to be recovered, in any sense of the 
word. In those immeasurable depths its neat 
silk covering will decay, its slender frame 
will fall to pieces. It has gone for ever. Be- 
neath this grey Italian sky some Italian gamp 
must keep off these Italian showers. Then the 
captain, the passengers, and the people smile 
and laugh. I, who write this, am the only 
one on whose face there is not a grin, for 
that umbrella was mine. 


{By a Constant Admirer.) 

Youb pretty face I saw 

two years ago, 
You looked divine—if 
I 'm not wrong, in 
I noticed you, and thus 
I got to know 
Your pretty face. 

To-day I travelled to a 

distant place. 
We stopped at Bath. 
I read my Punch, 
when lo ! 
You came into my car- 
riage and Your 
Rode with me for a 

dozen miles or so. 
Tell me, should we in 
this Fate's finger 
trace P 

I care not since you had the heart to show 
Your pretty face. 


'Ti8 November makes the (Lord) Mayor 
to go. As the ninth approaches, the year's 
tenant of the Mansion House packs up and 
says farewell to all his greatness. On the 
principle that attributes happiness to a country 
that has no annals, the outgoing Lord Mayor 
is to be congratulated on his year of office. It 
is probable that out of aldermanic circles not 
one man of a hundred in the street could 
straight off say what is his Lordship's name. 
Mr. Punch, who knows most things, only 
ventures to believe that the good alderman is 
known in the family circle as Sir Edwabd 
Ttleb. And a very good name, too. In the 

occult ceremonies pertaining to freemasonry 
it is understood there is an offioial known as 
the Tiler, whose duty is to guard the door, 
strictly excluding all but those whose right 
of entrance is peremptory. Our Sir Edward 
has indeed been the Tiler of the traditionally 
hospitable Mansion House. 


It is curious to observe the attitude of 
Western Powers towards the lif e-and-death 
struggle going on in the far East. We of 
course regret the loss of life, but are mainly 

interested in observing the effect in actual 
work of ships and guns identical with our 
own. It is a sort of gigantic test got np for 
our benefit at somebody else's expense. That 
an ancient empire seems tottering to a fall 
moves no emotion. " Yes," said the Mem- 
ber for Sabk, to whom these recondite re- 
marks were addressed ; " Pope wasn't far out 
of it when he very nearly said * Europe is 
mistress of herself though China fall.' " 


{By a prejudiced but puzzled Victim of Tea- 
caddies and Ginger -jars.) 

I suppose there 's a war in the East, 
(I am deluged with pictures about it,) 

But I can't realise it— no, not in the least, 
And, in spite of the papers, I doubt it. 

A Chinaman seems such a nebulous chap, 

And I can't fancy shedding the gore of a 

Those parohmenty fellows have fleets ? 

Big lron-olads, each worth a million ? 
I cannot conceive it, my reason it beats. 

The lord of the pencil vermilion 
Fits in with a teacaddy, not a torpedo. 
Just picture a Ram in that queer bay of 

It seems the right place for a junk, 
(With a fine flight of storks in the offing), 

Bat think of a battle-ship there being sunk 
By a Krupp ! 'Tis suggestive of scoffing. 

I try to believe, but 'tis merely bravado. 

It all seems as runny as Gilbert's Mikado. 

And then those preposterous names, 

Like a lot of cracked bells all a-tinkling ! 
I try to imagine their militant games, 

But at present I can't pet an inkling 
Of what it can mean when a fellow named 

And one Ting (Lord High Admiral !) go it 
ding-dong ! 

A Nelson whose nomen is Whang 
To me, I admit 's, inconceivable. 
And war between Wo-Httng and Ching-a- 
Ring Chang, 
Sounds funny, but quite unbelievable. 
And can you oonceiveliaxim bullets a-sing 
Round a saffron-hued hero called Pong, or 
Ping- Wing P 

A ship called Kow-Shing, I am sure, 
Can be only a warship pour rire. 

And Count Yaicagata— he must be a cure ! 
No, no, friends, I very much fear 

That in spite of the piotures, and portraits, 
and maps, j \r> 

I canH make live heroes of Johnnies and Japs! 

Ootobib 27, 1894.] 




'Airy {shouting turn* the tired to his" Pat 
This is 'bb I" 


). "Hi I BillI 


A short suburban dialogue, illustrating the deplorable downward spread 
of the New Colourdescriptiveness, as exemplified in such works as the 
" Arsenic Buttonhole." 
Scene— Peckham. Characters— Bill, a Greengrocer, Jm, an 
Oil and Colour Man. 

Jim. 'Ow are yer, Bill ? Fine pink morning, yn't it ? 

Bill. Um, a shyde too migenta for me, mate— 'ow 's yerself f 

Jim. Oh, I 'in just ramboge, and the missus, she 's bright ver- 
milion. 'Ow's your old Dutch r 

Bill. She 's a bit off colour. Pussonally t I'm feelin' lemon yaller, 
hall through a readin' o' this yer Pioneer kid. 

Jim. Buck up, mate ; you 'ye no call to be yaller, nor a perminent 
bloo, neither ! 'Ow'strydeP 

Bill. Notion' dou*'* Wy, I ain't aold an indigo oabbire or a 
ehooolate tater to-day. It 'a enuff to myke a cove turn blackleg, 

Jim. Well, I 'm a tyking pupils— leastways, I 've a young josser of 
a bankclurk come messin' around mjr pyntshop, wantin' to know wot 
sort o' noise raw number mykes, an f wot 'a the feel <f rose madder. 
I gives 'im the tip— 'arf a crown a go ! 

Bill. Well, that is a tyke-down ! 'E must be a bloomin' green- 

Jim. Tub, a carnation green-horn, you tyke it from me ! I 'ye 
done 'im vandyke brown, I tell yer ! X don't think 'e '11 herer pynt 
the tarn red ! 

Bill. Blymy, you're a knockout I Look 'ere, mate, now you 'ye 
got the ochre, you 'U stand 'arf a quartern at the " Blue Pig," eh P 
[Exeunt ambo. 

By an Old Bachelor. 

" Abe children humorous P " the Spectator asks. 

Practical jokers are they, every one of them ; 
Their laughter my poor tympanum sorely tasks, 

But I'll be hanged if loan see the fun of them ! 


Mr Dear Marjorie,— You remember Cecil CashmoreP Of 
oourse no theatricals could be a suooess unless he took the entire 
management. He is a oelebrated private performer, and his name is 
frequently seen in " Amateur L* amatio Notes," where he is freely 
oompared to Coqueun, Abthtj • Roberts, Ibvdtg, and Charles 
Eras', in his earlier manner— I mean Charles Keane's earlier 

so soon ! " Cissy— everyone calls him Cissy — seems to be a little 
particular, not to say fidgetty. 
Baby Beaumont heard him say to his valet, "Take away that 

gau-de-oologne— it 's corked." He seems to think himself ill, though 
e looks blooming ; and says he has neurasthenia. He 's always 
going through some " course," or ** treatment." One hears him cry 
to the footman who hands him a forbidden dish, "Good Heavens, 
mydear man, don't offer me that— I 'm under Jowles ! " 

We wanted to act The School for Scandal, but Cissy has per- 
suaded us to get up a burlesque of his own— Red Hiding Hood. I 
am to be Red Riding Hood! ! i I am de- 
lighted. I have never acted before; but 
they say I have only to trip on with a 
basket. Baby declared he would be a Proud 
Sister. In vain he was told there were no 
Proud Sisters in Red Riding Hood; he 
seemed to have set his heart on it so much 
that Cissy has written one in for him. Now 
Baby is happy, designing himself a gor- 
geous frock, and passing hours in front of 
a looking-glass, trying various patterns 
against his oomplexion. All the strength 
of thepieoe falls upon Cissy, who plays 
the Wolf) and has given himself any 
amount of songs and dances, lots of "serious 
interest," and all the "comic relief." He 
says it 's not an ordinary burlesque, but a 
mixture of a problem play and a comio opera. 
Captain Mashington is to play the Mother, 
so I see a good deal of him. (The Lorhe 
Hoppers are in Scotland). We had had 
sixteen rehearsals when Lady Tayher 
suddenly horrified us by saying it seemed 
so much trouble— why not give it up, and / pf 
if we wanted a little fun, black our faces ' / 
and pretend to be niggers I ! Of oourse, 
we would not listen to her. I hear Captain # 

Ma8HIWgton rehearsing his part every morning, quietly, in the 
billiard-room. He never can remember the lines 

" Good bye, my dear, now mind you 're very good, 
And shun the dangers lurking in the wood/ 1 

He thinks the mother ought to kiss Red Riding Hood before she 
starts. J think not. We asked Cissy. He says it 's optional . . . 
Cissy rose with the owl to-day, and said he was not well. A little 
later he came and told us complacently that he had been looking it 
up in the Encyclopedia, and found he had " every symptom of acute 
lead-poisoning." He added that there was nothing to be done. 

" I thought there was something wrong with you yesterday," said 
Baby. " iou declined all nourishment between lunch and tea." 

" By the way," said Cissy, pretending not to hear, " Mashtjtgton 
really is not quite light enough for the Mother, x on should per- 
suade him to go through a oourse, Miss Gladys." 

" He 's just been through a oourse," I said, "at Hythe." 

" My dear lady, I don't mean musketry. He ought to consult 
Castle Jones, the specialist. No soup, no bread, no potatoes— 
saccharine. What are you allowed ? " turning to Baby, who was 

snatohed' violently at the bag, secured a chestnut, and calmly walked 
out of the room eating it and saying it was delicious. 

I had just come home from a very nice drive with Jacx — I mean 
Captain Mashutoton— when I found a letter from Oriel. He says 
he is engaged to Miss Toogood. The matter is to be kept a profound 
secret for the present. ... He asks me, for the sake of the past, to 
try and get him a stamp of the Straits Settlements, in exchange 
for a Mauritian. ... She collects stamps too— it must have been the 
bond of union. . . • How fickle men are ! It's enough to disgust 
one with human nature. I know I broke it off, but still—— 

Ever your loving friend, Gladys. 

I wonder if Miss Toogood will have a bangle. I should like to 
advise her not to have it wetted on. It's such a bother getting 
them filed off. 

vol. evil. 


thousands of fellow-creatures flung fbom work 
At the mere pen-stroke of a hasty Censor 1— 

an unconsidered trifle zeal mat shirk t 
But Sense mat not, nor Justice t Thiy are denser 



Than Punch imagines, our new Bumble-band, 
If Mistress Pry's decision they abide bt ; 

But should they fail us, Punch throughout the land 
Will wake the People prudes and prigs are tried by I 

D i g i t i zed by 



October 27, 1894.] 





You hope you don't intrude? Peowluia 
Yon do, yon do ! In ignoranoe it may be, 
The role of Rhadamahthus yon would try, 
With scarce the fitness of a bnmptious 
"With folly's headlong haste yon would 
rush in 
Where well-tried wisdom treads with fear 
and trembling. 
Gregarious Silliness would cope with Sin ; 
But when geese swarm what comes of such 
assembling P 

Cackle, and cant, and chaos! Needless 
Meddling and mischief and theer moral 
muddle I 
Reformers must not act like gutter-boys 
Who rake up mud, stir each malodorous 
Life's purlieus are defiled ; will it avail 
To grub and rake in reeking slum and 
Until the foul infection loads the gale, 
And pestilence stalks boldly in the high- 

Psowldta Pry, your purview is too small ; 

life is not plumbed by microsoopic peeping, 
AmLNature is too large for nursery-thrall. 

The globe is not in Mrs. Gbuhdy's 
dear sense, and not lop-sided sentiment, 

Must front Society's perplexing puzzles ; 
Humanity, when roused, has ever rent 

Partington policies of mops and muzzles. 

Humanity is a most complex thing, 

Not simple as a gag <t feeding-bottle. 
You, lest it stray;, would rob it of its wing. 
. Lest it feed ill would simply close its 

The Puritanic plan in a new guise ! — 
A female Praise - God - Barebones now 
would rule us. 

We Britons, who have baffled our male Prys y 
Are little like to let she-ones befool us. 

Unclean! Unclean! 'Twas the old lepers' 


You 'd silence them and call it— purifying ! 

Drive swine possessed of devils from their 

sty. [flying ! 

And bid them spread infection as they 're 

Did some steep place lead down into the sea 

Of dead oblivion and sheer extirpation. 
'Twere well to scourge them thither. What 
if, free, [nation P 

They carry foul contagion through— a 

Thousands of fellow- creatures flung from 


At the mere pen-stroke of a hasty censor ! — 

An unconsidered trifle Zeal may shirk ! 

But Sense may not, nor Justice ! They are 

denser [band, 

Than Punch imagines, our new Bumble- 

If Mistress Pet's decision they abide by ; 
But should they fail us, Punch throughout 
the land 
Will wake the People prudes and prigs are 
tried by ! 

Petticoat-government, Pbowlina Pry, 

Of this peculiar sort will scaroely suit us. 
Such cases dear collective sense must try, 

Not a she-DBACO or a lady-Bfiuros. 
To sweeten our poor world we all may strive, 

But life's not one lone Puritanic Sunday ; 
And the great World while manhood is alive, 

Shall not be wholly swayed by Mrs. Gkukd y. 

Pbowltna Pey Society's festering ills 
Will not be healed by your pragmatic 

Tare-rooting that the growing corn-crop kills 
Was not the plan or oounsel of the Master. 

You with rash hand would wield the whip of 
He raised but once in righteous indignation. 
Heed the great lesson that the fact afford « ¥ 
And leave our woes to Wisdom's mild pur- 

: r ' 


[The guardia municipal* of Venice is now dressed 
like the London policeman.] 

That afternoon when first yon burst 
Upon my quite bewildered eyes, 

I seemed in London ; you are too 
Confusing in that strange disguise. 

The very clothes of blue ! It 's true 
In black kid gloves you are arrayed, , 

No truncheon at your side you hide, , 
A sword is openly displayed. » 

That vile black helmet yet you get, 
Most dismal head-dress ever planned. 

In Venice this ! Where once doge, dunce, 
Dame, doctor, all were gay ana grand. 

In that prosaic dress ! Oh, bless ~ 
The man, why wear such awful things P 

In Venice long ago, we know, 
The oostermongers looked like kings. 

Italians love what 's new, so you 
Suit buildings all. de haul en bas. 

Restored and new— now bad and sad ! 
But you 're a still worse novit<L 

A peeler pacing here— how queer ! 

A copper checking crimes and larks, 
When gleams on lone lagoon the moon ! 

A bobby's beat beside St. Mark's ! 

By a Birkenhead Maw. — The Lever. 
though strong, could not quite lift the Liberal 
minority into power, but it brought the Con- 
servative majority down to its Lees ! 



[October 27, 1894. 


(A Story in Scenes.) 


Scene XXVI. — A Gallery near the Verney Chamber* 
Time— About 10.30 p.m. 

Spurrell (to himself). I must say it's rather rough luck on that 
poor devil I get his dress suit, and all he gets is my booby-trap ! 
(Phtllipson, wearing a Holland blouse over her evening toilette, 
approaches from the other end of the passage ; he does not recognise 
her until the moment of collision.) Emma ! I It 's never you ! How 
do yon oome to be here f 

PhiUipson (to herself). Then it was my Jem after all ! (Aloud, 
distantly.) I 'm here in attendance on Lady Maisie Mull, being 
her maid. If I was at all curious— which I 'm not— I might ask you 
what you 're doing in suoh a house as this ; and in evening dress, if 
you please ! 

Spurr. I'm in evening dress, Emma, such as it is (not that I 've 
any right to find fault with it) ; but I 'm in evening dress (with 
dignity) because I've been included 
in the dinner party here. 

PhiU. You must have been get* 
ting on since I knew you. Then 
you were studying to be a horse- 

Spurr. I have got on. I am now 
a qualified M.R.C.V.S. 

Thill. And does that qualify you 
to dine with bishooe and oountesses 
and baronets and the gentry, like 
one of themselves P 

Spurr. I don't say it does, in 
itself. It was my Andromeda that 
did the trick, Emma. 

PhiU. Andromeda t Thevwere 
talking of that downstairs. What's 
made you take to scribbling, James P 

Spurr. Scribbling? how do you 
mean P My handwriting 's easy 
enough to read, as you ought to 
know very well. 

PhiU. ion can't expect me to 
remember what your writing 's like ; 
it's so long since I 've seen it I 

Spurr. Come, I like that ! When 
I wrote twice to say I was sorry 
we 'd fallen out ; and never got a 
word back ! 

PhiU. If you 'd written to the 
addresses Igave you abroad 

Spurr. Then you did write ; but 
none of the letters reached me. I 
never even knew you'd aone 
abroad. I wrote to the old place. 
And so did you, I suppose, not 
knowing I'd moved my lodgings 

too, so naturally But what 

does it all matter so long as we 've 
met and it 's all right between us P 

rl I sat next to at dinner P Nice chatty sort of 

Oh, my dear girl, if you only knew 
how I'd worried myself, thinking 

you were Well, all 

over now, isn't it P 


" You might begin with *Ai«-tuoh a dear little pieee 

[He attempts to embrace her. 

PhiU. (repulsing him). Not quite so fast, James. Before I say 
whether we're to be as we were or not. I want to know a little 
more about you. You wouldn't be here like this if you hadn't done 
sotnething to distinguish yourself. 

Spurr. WelL I don't say I mayn't have got a certain amount of 
what they call ''kudos," owing to Andromeda. But what difference 
does that make P 

PhiU. TeU me. James, is it you that's been writing a pink book 
all over silver cutlets ? 

Spurr. MeP Write a book— about outlets— or anything else! 
Emma, you don't suppose I 've quite oome to that! Andromeda's 
the name of my bull-dog. I took first prize with her ; there were 
portraits of both of us in one of the papers. And the people here 
were very much taken with the dog, and— and so they asked me 
to dine with them. That 's how it was. 

PhiU. I should have thought, if they asked one of you to dine, it 
ought to have been the bull-dog. 

> Spurr. Now what's the good of saying extravagant things of that 
•art P Not that old Drummy couldn't be trusted to behave any- 
where ! 

PhiU. Better than her master, I daresay, /heard of your goings 
en with some Lady Rhoda or other ! 

Spurr. Oh, the girl I sat next to 

girl ; seems fond of quadrupeds 

PhiU. Especially two-legged ones! You see I've been told all 
about it! 

Spurr. I assure you I didn't go a step beyond the most ordinary 
civility. You 're not going to be jealous because I promised I 'd give 
her a liniment for one of her dogs, are you P 

PhiU. Liniment ! You always were a flirt, James ! # But I 'm not 
jealous. I 've met a very nioe-spoken young man while I 've been 
here ; he sat next to me at supper, and paid me the most beautiful 
compliments, and was most polite and attentive— though he hasn't 
got as far as liniment, at present. . 

Spurr. But, Emma, you 're not going to take up with some other 
fellow just when we 've oome together again P 

PhiU. U you call it " coming together," when I'm down in the 
Housekeepers Boom, and you're up above, carrying on with ladies 
of title ! 

Spurr. Do you want to drive me frantic P As if I could help 
being where I am! How could I know you were here ? 
PhiU. At all events you know now, James. And it's for you to 

choose between your smart lady- 
friends and me. If you 're fit com- 
pany for them, you 're too grand 
for one of their maids. 

Spurr. My dear girl, don't be 

unreasonable ! I 'm expected back 

in the Drawing Boom, and I can't 

s throw 'em over now all of a sudden 

( without giving offence. There's 

/ the interests of the firm to oon- 

\ sider, and it 's not for me to take a 

lower place than I 'm given. But 

it 's only for a night or two. and 

you don t really suppose I wouldn't 

rather be where you are if I was 

free to choose— but I 'm not, Emma, 

that 's the worst of it ! 

PhiU. Well, go back to the Draw- 
ing Room, then ; don't keep Lady 
Rhoda waiting for her liniment 
on my aoeount. I ought to be in 
my ladies' rooms by this time. 
Only don't be surprised if, whenever 
you are free to choose, you find 
you've oome back just too late— 
that 'sail! [She turns to leave him. 
Spurr. (detaining her). Emma. I 
won't let you go like this! Not 
before you 've told me where I can 
meet vou again here. 

PhiU. There's no plaoe that I 

know of —except the Housekeeper's 

Room ; and of course you couldn't 

descend so low as that. . . . James, 

there 's somebody coming ! Let go 

my hand— do you want to lose me 

my character! 

[Steps and voices are heard at 

the other end of the passage ; 

she frees herself, and escapes. 

Spurr. (attempting to JoUow). 

But, Emma, stop one She's 

gone ! . . . Confound it, there 's 
coming! It's no use staying up here 
any longer. (To himself," as he goes downstairs.) It's downright 
torture— that 's what it is ! To be tied by the leg in the Drawing- 
Room, doing the civil to a lot of girls I don't care a blow about; 
and to know that all the time some blarneying beggar downstairs 
is doing his best to rob me of my Emma! Flesh and blood can't 
stand it ; and yet I 'm blest if I see any way out of it without 
offending 'em all round. [He enters the Chinese Drawing- Room. 

Scene XXVII.— The Chinese Drawing Boom. 

Miss Spelwane. At last, Mr. Spurbell ! We began to think you 
meant to keep away altogether. Has anybody told you why you've 
been waited for so impatiently P 

Spurr. {looking round the circle of chairs apprehensively). No. Is 
it family prayers, or what P Er — are they over P 

Miss Spelw. No, no; nothing of that • Can't yon guess t 

Mr. Spubrell, I 'm going to be very bold, and ask a great, areat 
favour of you. I don't knojp why they chose me fe> represent them ; 
I told Lady Lttlldtoton I was afraid my entreaties would pave no 
weight ; but if yon onlywonld—-— 

Spurr. (to hmseff). They 've at it again ! How majjf mor* of 'em 
want a pup! (Aloud.) Sorry to be disobliging, but 

Miss Spelw. (Joining her hands in suppUeaUon). Nof if I implore 

the butler and a 

October 27, 1891] 



you f Oh, Mr. Spubbell, I've quite set my heart on hearing you 
read aloud to us. Are you really cruel enough to refuse P 

Spurr. Read aloud ! Is that what you want me to do ? But 
I'm no particular hand at it I don't know that I 've ever read 
aloud— except a hit out of the paper now, and then— since I was a 
boy at school! * •.'.-." 

Lady Canttre. What 's that I hear P Mr. Spubbell profeesiufc 
incapacity to read aloud P Sheer affectation ! Come, Mr. Spubbell, 
I am much mistaken if you are wanting in the power to thrill all 
hearts here. Think of us as instruments ready to respond to your 
touch. Play upon us as you will ; hut don't he so ungracious as to 
raise any further obstacles. 

Spurr. (resignedly). Oh, very wefl, if I 'in required to read, J'm 
agreeable. ; [Murmur* of satisfaction. 

MLadt/ Cant. Hush, please, everybody ! Mr. Spubbell is going to 

read. My dear Dr. RomntT, if you wouldn't mind just LordLm*- 

liwgton, can you hear where you are P" Where are yen going to sit, 
Mr. Spubbell? In the centre will he best. Will somebody move 
that lamp a little, so as to give him more light P 

Spurr. [to himself \ a* he sits down). I wonder what we 're supposed 
to be playing at! (Aloud.) Well, what am I to read, eh P 

Miss Speko. (placing an open copy of "Andromeda" in his 
hands with a charming air of deferential dictation). You might 
begin with this— suoh a dear little piece ! I 'm dying to hear you 
read it! 

Spurr. (as he takes the book). I '11 do the best I can ! (He looks 
at the page in dismay.) Why, look here, it's Poetry! I didn't 
bargain for that Poetry 's altogether out of my line ! (Miss Spel- 
waee opens her eyes to their fullest extent, and retires a few paces 
from htm ; he turns over the leaves backwards until he arrives at the 
title-page.) I say, this is rather curious! Who the dickins is 
Clarion BlaibP (The company look at one another with raised 
eyebrows and dropped under lips.) Because I never heard of him; 
but he seems to have been writing poetry about my bull-dog. 

Miss Spelw. (faintly). Writing poetry— about your bull-dog ! 

Spurr. Yes, the one you 've all been praising uj> so. If it isn't 
meant for her, it 's what you might call a most surprising ooinoidenoe, 
for here 's the old dog's name as plain as it can b&— Andromeda ! 



The Downey ones, meaning thereby the photographers W. & D. 
44 of that ilk," have produoea some exoellent photographic portraits 
in their fifth series recently published. The Czabeyich and The 
Bight Hon. Henbt Chaplin, M.P., two sporting names well brought 

together, and both capital like- 
nesses, though the Baron fancies 
that The Czaeevich has tha best 
of it, for secret and silent as 
Mr. Ghaplik is as a politician, 
yet did he never manage to keep 
so dark as he is represented in 
this picture. Here, too, is Mr. 
Chablbs Saihxet — ** Charles 
our friend "—looking like a mere 
boy with t4 a singing face." where 
44 Nature, smiling, gave the win- 
ning grace." Mr. Sydney 
Gbundy. endimanchSy is too 
beautiful for words. But the 
picture of Mrs. Bancroft, wear- 
ing (in addition to a trimmed fur cloak) a 
wonderful kind of •' Fellah! don't-know- 
yar-f ellah ! " expression, at once surprised, 
pained ; and hurt, does not at all represent 
the "little Mrs. B." whom thepublio knows 
and loves. * 4 How doth the little busy Mrs. B. 
delight to bark and bite" might have been 
under this portrait, and Dowhey must be 
moreDowney another time, and give usamore 
characteristic presentment of this lively 
comedienne. The Bight Hon. Abthub J. 
Balfoub is the best of all. Capital. Just the man: * 4 frosty but 
kindly." Then there is a first rate portrait of Miss Fanny Bbough, 
and after her comes the King of Saxony ! ! Albert of Saxony I 
after Miss Fanny Bbouoh!! What '11 Queenie Caroline say? 
Perhaps Messrs. Downey, by kind permission of Caswell & Co., will 

~ Battle with Bacilli.— Dr. Koux has been successful against the 
Diphtheria Bacillus. He can afford to look on at any number of 
Ifacilli and exclaim, "Bah! silly!" Unless he pronounoes Latin 
more Italian*, and then he would say "Bail •hilly!" Which 
would signify that they were lifeless and harmless. 44 Bravo Roux ! " 

" I °ni coming to take 












fTlHE ALL-ROUND COMPANY must be Tilted at once. 

THE SENTENCE will be Haed Cash fob Life without akt 




BY OUR COVER SYSTEM we have never yet drawn blank. 
Surprise profits are made by all Investors who trust us with 
their balances, so that a swinging amount always stands to their 
credit. We have never yet received a oheok. Our Customers come 
to' Order, 4 but •they, never go to Law. In June, 1893, we received 
information about Grand Post Defs. and Tympanum Prefs., and a 
Bull-dozing Operation was decided on. As a consequence we were 
able to present all Subscribers with a £50 dumb-bell apiece, which 
has made them strong enough to more a Market. 

LAR HOAX DEAL. Everyone should therefore 


"O Y our New Pubchase System all 









LAST YEAR we recommended all bonneted widows to buy B's. 
The result is that they now wear poke-bonnets, and own pigs. 
They are also in clover. 






Customers who deal with THE ALL-ROUND COMPANY 





by VjOO^LC 



[Ootobkb 27, 1894. 


(A Chsy Corner in a Country Hotue.) 
HosUs*. "This is oood of top, Major Grey I When I wbotz I xxvbk.xxpxctxd foe a moment that you would oomb I" 


["If he believed that the majority of the Liberal-Unionist party, or 
indeed an? considerable section of them, held the opinion which was 
expressed by this writer in the Timet, he, for one, would at once resign the 
responsible position which he held, and would claim to take up a more inde- 
pendent position, because he was certain that their efforts would be fruitless, 
and that they would not succeed in defeating the policy of Home Bule if 
they were to accept the negative position which had been suggested to 
them."— Mr. Chamberlain at Durham."] 

Showman Joe soliloquiseth : — 

Waxworks indeed. I Hah ! I 'ye took over the management of 
'em, and I suppose, as Misther Thleary said, I most 4 *make the 
betht of 'em, not the wurtht." Bat I'm a bit tired of the job 
— sometimes. 

Wish I oonld ft el Mrs. Jarley's pride in the whole bag o' tricks ! 
'Ave to purtend to, of course. Can't cry creaky waxworks any more 
than yon can stinking fish. But a more rusty, sluggish, wneezy, 
wobbly, jerky, uncertain, stick-fast, stodgy, unwillin' lot o' wax 

Aggers 1 never did Well, there, it tries a conscience of injy-rubber 

to oraok 'em up and patter of 'em into poppylarity, blowed if 
it don't ! 

Kim up, Dook ! Dashed if 'e don't look as if 'e fancied hisself the 
Sleepin' Beauty, and wanted to forty-wink it for another ©entry. 
Look at the flabby flop of 'im ! Jest as though 'e wouldn't move if 'is 
nose wob a meltin'. Large as life, and twice as nateral P Wy, a 
kid's Guy Fox on the fifth o' Novemoer 'ud give 'im hodds. and lick 
'is 'ead orf— heasy ! Bin a-ileing 'is works this ever so long l and 
still 'e moves as if 'is wittles wos sand-paper, and 'is drink witrol. 
Kim up ! 

As to the Markis, well, 'e 's a bit older, but dashed if 'e don't 
move livelier— when 'e %s on the shift. At the present moment 
'owever, utter confloption is a cycle-sprinter to 'im. As if a pair o' 
niddity-noddities in 14 negative" positions was likely to fetch y em in 
front in these days ! Yah ! 

<* Should like to iceep the Old Show a-runnin', too,— leastways until 
I can start a bran-new one of my very own. Won't run to it yet, 
I'm afraid. Oh, to boss a big booth-full all to myself! I'd show 
'em ! This Combination Show— old stock-in-trade of one oompany, 
and cast-offs from another— ain't the best o' bisness arter all. But I 
must keep 'em together as a going concern till I can run a star oom- 
pany of my own choosing. 'Ere,^and us that ile-can again ! Talk 
about rust and rickets ! 

nose-o'-wax and don't nod yerself into nothingness ! '0 w much more 
ile do yer rusty old innards want to stop their clogging and creaking P 

Proprietors beginning to pull long faces at my pace t 'Int that 
I'll snake the machinery to smithereens by too much hactionP 
Well, 1 am blowed 1 Wy, they'd slow down a sick snail, and 
'andioap a old tortus, they would ! Tell yer wot it is. if they don't 
give me a free 'and at the crank I shall turn the whole thing up. so 
there! Some nameless, nidnoddy, negative old orocks 'ave bin 
a-earwigging 'em, that's wot's the matter. But I give 'em the 
straight tip, if they lend a ear to them slow-going stiok-in-the-muda, 
I shall jest resign my responserble persition, and take up a hinde- 
pendent one— jine the Opposition Show, or p'r'aps start one o' my 
own. and then where will they be, I wonder r 

Cling-cling! Curtiog rising P Well, 'ere goes once more then! 
(Winding hard and addressing audience). " Ladies and genTmen ! 
The Himperial and Royal Grand Unionist Combination Waxworks 
Show is about to start for the season ! Largest and most life-like set 
o* wax Aggers ever exhibited to a hadmirin^ publio! ! As 1 wind you 
will perceive hunmistakeable signs of hammation in 'is Grace the 
Nobble Dook : arter wioh, with your kyind permission, I shall take a 
turn at the lllustrous Markis ! ! I " 

(New Song to an Old Tune, for the New Woman.) 

[The Quarterly Review says that man will not marry the New Woman, 
which must be the final blow to her ambition.] 

" Where are you going. Revolting Maid P " 
" As far as I may, fair Sir," she said. 

44 Shall I go with you. Revolting Maid P " 

41 You may follow— behind me, Sir ! " she said. 

41 What is your object Revolting Maid ? " 
41 Emancipation, Sir ! " she said. 

44 Will you marry, Revolting Maid ? " 

44 Perhaps— on my own terms, Sir ! " she said. 

44 And what may those terms be, Revolting Maid P " 
44 Absolute Liberty, Sir ! " she said, 

44 Then J shan't wed you, Revolting Maid ! " 
44 Did anyone ask you, Sir? " she said. 

Title fob New London Japanese Journal (Weekly).— u 
Happy Dispatch, edited by Habi Karl" 


fr g iti7PHhy\^CHWIt 




Digitized by 


October 27, 1894.] 




• When the much-end mini? Dockers, 
In the city of the Smoke-Cloud. 
By the banks of the Tems-Ri-Ya, 
Struck to gain a larger stipend, 
Lead them on did Burnsiwatha. 

And the ruler of these matters, 
Who is called the Bry-Tish-Pu- 

Took the side of dock-gate casuals, 
Of the somewhat lordly stevedore, 
And informed the proud Dy-Reok- 

That they soon must yield to reason ; 
Gave its sympathy in gallons, 
Gave its coin to make a strike-fund ; 
So the proud Dy-Reck-Tas yielded. 

But when many moons had vanished, 
Came the rather wild Keir-Har-Di, 
Came Tom-Mann the earnest minded, 
Talked of " Independent Labour/' 
Soundly rated Burnsiwatha 
And all useful Labour-Members. 

Then the strong man, Bubnsi- 
Hurled their language back with 

With the breathing of his nostrils, 
With the tempest of his anger, 
Hurled it back on his assailants. 
Said Tom-Mann was feather-headed, 
Said the rather wild Kxtb-Har-Di 
Was no better than a " bounder." 

And the Independent Laborers, 
Not to be outdone in scolding, 
Scandalised poor Burnsiwatha, 
8aid they thought him quite conceited, 
Called him 4r Boss," likewise "Bull- 

And the Bry-Tish-Pu-Blyok won- 
At the manners of these leaders, 
At the Unionists' disunion. 
" Go, my sons,' 1 it said, " instanter, 
Go back to your homes and people ; 
Slay all ravening labour-sweaters, 
All the Kum-Panies, the giants, 
All the serpents, the Emp-Loias ; 
But, for goodness' sake have done with 
Petty piques and jealous slangings ; 
Or, next time you ask for coppers 
For the holy cause of Labour, 
You will find these coppers wanting! " 


The Chick- a-lkary Cocbin. 


Oh, Robert, in our hours of ease 
Butt of those outworn pleasantries. 
Not less with pride thy praise we hear 
Hymned in another hemisphere, 
When Bayabd, chivalrously graphic, 
Tells how you regulate the traffic 
Firm as a statue on its plinth 
'Midst the vertiginous labyrinth 
Of circus, street and bridge you stand, 
And rule the storm with calm, un- 
armed hand. 
Rarely our soldiers of the law 
Do Themis' awful truncheon draw, 
Their Orphic whistle subdue can 
All save the crew of Hooligan. 
Though western Jonathan prefer 
A force not vainly claviger^ 
Yet Bayabd, taught in English ways, 
That suaver regiment must praise 
That trusts to moral weight and nerve 
And keeps the bludgeon in reserve. 
Stalwart and patient 'midst the strife 
Of all our seething city life. 
When pageants twice or thrice a year 
Throw the whole Empire out of gear, 
Then, stolid symbol of good sense, 
A wonder-worker, sans pretence, 
Fulfill'st authority's decrees, 
With thy familiar " Stand 

please ! " 
And rather by that sober charm 
Than by the might of brawny arm, 
The many-headed own thy sway ; 
They laugh, they jostle, and obey. 
Worthy thy deeds of loftier rhyme, 
Than topic-song or pantomime. 
Not quite sublime, but on the border, 
Type of our British law and order, 
Thy figure shall be graved upon 
The frieze of some new Parthenon, 
Wherein by glyphic art portray'd 
Reigns the ideal parlour-maid. 
Thy dauntless soul's domestic lure 
Trim, natty, roguish, and demure, 
Waiting the age's unborn Layard 
To illustrate the praise of Bayabd. 


Query in the Country.— New 
agricultural version of an ancient 
cockney slant; phrase— "Has your 
farmer sold his mangel P " 

Advice to any Dramatic Author 
who has written a lengthy plece. 
— "Cut, and run." 


Bbdad, 'twas meself was as plaised as could be 
When they tould me the vote had bin given to me. 
44 St. Pathriok," ses Oi, 4< Oi 'm a gintleman too, 
An' Oi 'U doine ivry day off a grand Oirish stew." 

The words was scarce seen slippin' off of me tongue 
When who but the Colonel comes walkin' along! 
44 Begorrah, 'tis eallin' he's either, the bhoy, 
Oi 'm a gintleman now wid a vingeance," ses Oi. 

The Colonel oome in wid an affable air, 
An' he sat down quite natteral-loike in a chair. 
44 So, Rort," ses he, l4 'tis a vote ye 've got now P " 
41 That 's thrue though ye see it," ses Oi, wid a bow. 

44 Deloighted ! " ses he x 4I 'tis meself that is g'ad, 
For shure ye 're diaarvin' it, Rory me lad. 
An' how are ye goin' to use it P " ses he, 
44 Ye could scarcely do betther than give it to me." 

Oi stared at the Colonel, amazed wid surprise. 

44 What ! Give it away, Sorr P— Me vote, Sorr P " Oi cries. 

44 J> 'ye think that Ox 've waited ontil Oi am gray, 

An' now Oi'm jist $pin* to givedt away P" 

The Colonel he chuckled, an * 4 Rort," ses he, 

Put " No, Sorr," Oi answers, " ye don't diddle me." 

Thin he hum'd an' he haw'd, an' he started agio, 
But he 'd met wid his equal in Rory O'Flynn. 

Thin the smoile died away, an' a frown oome instead, 
But for all that he tould me, Oi jist shook me head, 
An' he gnawed his moustache, an' he cursed an' he swore, 
But the more that he argued, Oi shook it the more. 

Thin he called me a dolt an' an ignorant fool, 
An' he said that Oi ought to go back to the school, 
An' he flew in a rage an' wint black in the faoe, 
An' he flung in a hullaballoo from the place. 

Bedad, Oi was startled. Him beggin' me vote, 
An' he 'd three of his own too !— The gradiness o 't I 
Ye could soaroely belave it onless it was thrue, 
An' him dttin' oop for a gintleman too ! 

Was it betther he thought he could use it than Oi ? 
Begorrah, QiUl show he's mistaken, me bhoy. 
Oi Tl hang it oop over me mantlepaoe shelf, 
For now that Oi 've got it, Oi '11 tape it meself. 

The Zuydee Zee.— 44 Wha' be the Zider ZeeP" repeated a 
Devonian farmer. 44 Why. I always thought as the Zee of Exeter 
were the Zider Zee. Ain't it pratty well in the — •"'- * "'*- 



[Octobbb 27, 1894. 

Digitized by 


Octobbb 27, 1894.] 





( TuU last Number of « Punch: 9 ) 

Dear Punch, your praise 

Of Mayonnaise 
Is certainly most telling : 

Bat don't it seem 

That snoh a theme 
Deserves the proper spelling ? 

I sometimes look 

At a cookery book 
By A. Dumas, the younger ; 

And find he says 

That Mayonnaise 
(A certain cure for hunger) 

Should be spelt so ; 

Not with an o. 
Bat like Mayenne, that city, 

Whose siege' 8 fame 

Supplied the name 
Mis-spelt now ; more 's the pity 

Maybe D 's right, 

Although it might 
Be just a yarn he 's telling. 

So hope your bard 

Won't be too hard 
And simply ** D " my spelling. 

'Tother Wat About.— Mr. 
Lb Gallishne says, epigram- 
matioally, that " Beauty is the 
smile on the face of Power." 
Humph! Gallant Mr. Punch 
prefers to put it the other way, 
and say ** Power is the smile on 
the face of Beauty ! " Sorely 
that is equally true. Bat it's 
a poor rale (or paradox) that 
won't work both ways, 

Motto most Practical for 
all who are compelled to 
Travel constaktly rw our 
Metropolitan Public Convey- 
ances.— "in Omnibus Caritas." 


Algy. "What's the matter, Archie? You're not looking 
well ! " 

Archie. " You wouldn't look well, if tou 'd been suffering 
from Insomnia evert Afternoon for a Week I " 

SUMMING-UP . ***** 

[Of a recently protracted discus- 
sion in the Times on "Anglican 
Orders," set to the air of what was 
once upon a time a popular song, 
entitled Billy Barlow]. 

Of my re-appearance, 

My friends, don't complain, 
I 've turned up before, 

I shall turn up again ! 
We are where we were 

When we started, and so 
For awhile bid good-bye 
To your William Barlow. 

dear ! Lackadav oh ! 
What a puzzling old party 
Bishop Barlow! 

Two " General " 

The one, 8ir Bob Rrtd, Q.C., 
M.P., "to be Attorney-Gene- 
ral" ; the other, Frank Lock- 
wood, Q.C.. M.P., " to be Solici- 
tor-General." Rkld and Right. 
Commercial value, one "Bob" 
and a " Frank," i.e. One-and- 
tenpenoe the pair. 

Future Fame. — Mr. T. E. 
Ellis, M.P., "speaking at Col- 
wyn Bay " (unkind of mm, this, 
for what has Colwyn Bay done to 
him? Why not address Colwyn 
Bay personally instead of 
" speaking at " 0. B.), spoke at 
the same time " at" the House 
of Lords. " Were the wishes of 
the people to be continually 
thwarted by an hereditary and 
irresponsible Chamber?" 
That's the style! Twopenoe 
coloured. Henceforth Mr. T. E. 
Ellis, from being Nobody in 
particular, will now be known as 
" Somebody Ellis." 


" Now that? quoth the Baron emphatically, as he deposed My 
Lady Botha in favour of the next novelty, whatever it might be, " that 
is a romance after my own heart. Mr. Stanley Wetmaw, author 
of A Gentleman of France and Under the Red Robe, has not as yet, 

excellent as were both those 
work*, written anything so 
powerful, so artistic, so ex- 
citing, and so all-engrossing 
no further participlesor adjec- 
tives wanted at present) as 
My Lady Rotha* This ro- 
mancer has the rare talent of 
interesting his reader as much 
in the action of his crowds as 
he does in the fortunes of his 
individuals. He is the Sir 
Jomr Gilbert of the pen ; and 
the Baron cautiously expresses 
his opinion that My Lady 
Botha is not so very far on 
Ivanhoe. To compare with 
the works of other modern 
romancers, it may be safely said that, from Chapter XXVI. to 
Chapter XXIX inclusive, the situations are as exciting as any ever 
invented by Rider Haggard, Louis B. Stephenson, or Jules 
Verne ; "which" the Baron freely admits, "is saying a good deal, 
— Treasure Island always excepted." 

The Baron anticipates "Next please," with pleasure, but at the 
same tune he would draw the attention of the prolific author to the 
ancient proverb "festina lent*," which is not at varianoe with his 
— '-Hnr " On t Siaexey (WiYJCAJr) on!" and these are "the last 
(for the present on this subject) of the 

Baron de Book- Worms. 

" He saw the greatest quail 
before him." 



[On hearing that an Archdeacon had withdrawn from the School-Board 
Controversy because he found himself opposed to his Bishop.] 

The Archdeacon is "sorry he spoke." Not that he has changed 
his opinion — oh dear no! far from that. But the Bishop thinks 
otherwise, so the Archdeacon retires as gracefully as may be from 
the controversy. He is. he explains, as it were, the Bishop's 
" ooulus " — the man to whom the Bishop can proudly point, and say 
" All my eye ! " This theory of subordination of thought to one's 
superior highly suggestive. For instanoe, who will be surprised to 
read the following highly authentic document, now made public for 
the first time. 

To the Editor of the Once a- Month Review* 

Dear Sir,— With reference to my article "Is Horse-racing 
Justifiable P" I desire to make known that while I still strongly 
adhere to my views therein expressed as to the wickedness of the 
turf, I shall, for the reason I am about to mention, take no further 
active part in the controversy. I find that the Prime Minister is 
the owner of some racehorses (a fact previously unknown to me), and 
as I am his "dextera," if it is not presumptive to say so, it would 
clearly be unbecoming on my part to take up any antagonistic 
position. However much I may regret having to take this course, I 
am sure you will agree with me that it is the only one which is open 
to me. Yours faithfully, W-ll-am Y-rn-w H-rc-tjrt. 

Dear Mr. Puwch,— Last Sunday evening I fully intended going 
to church. I put on my most attractive bonnet, and an absolutely 
bewitching jacket, when I discovered that Jm (he 's my husband, 
you know) did not intend to ffo out. As I had read a little while 
before the new aroMdiaoonaT theory of obedienoe. that of oourse 
prevented my going out. Clearly as I am Jnc's "better-half" I 
couldn't jo anywhere that he didn't go. Please, Mr. Punch, was I 
right ? Or can it be that the archdeacon was wrong ? 

Yours very perplexed, Ethel Dixmxrb. 



[October 27, 1894. 


(A Brown Study in a Yellow Book.) 

Nay, bat it is useless to protest. Maoh 
bosh and bauble-tit and pop-limbo has been 
talked about George the Ptjorth. Thacke- 
ray denunciated him in his charming- style 
(we never find Thackeray searching for the 
mot iuste as for a wisp of hay in a packet of 

By Mortarthurio JFhisleriley. 

needles), but inverideed he was not sufficiently 
merciful to the last gentleman in Europe. We 
must not judge a prince too harshly. How 
many temptations ne had with all the wits 
and flutterpates and malaperts gyring and 

S'mhling round him ! George was a sportsman, 
e would spend the morning with his valet 
(who was a hero to him), assuming gorgeous 
apparel, and tricking himself, with brush 
and pigment, into more charm. He was 
implected with a passion for the pleasures of 
the wardrobe, and had a Royal memory for 
old coats. Then he would saunter into 
White's for ale and tittle-tattle, and drive 
a friend into the country, stopping on the 
way for cursory visits at the taverns; I 
mean, swearing if the ale was not good. He 
had his troubles. Queen Caroline was a 
mimsy, out-moded woman, a sly serio, who 
gadded hither and thither shrieking for the 
unbecoming. Mrs. Phox ensoroelled George 
with her beautiful, silly phace, shadowed with 
vermeil tinct and trimly pencilled. There 
was no secernment between ner soul and sur- 
face; she was mere, insouciant, with a rare 

George collected locks of hair and what 
not, and what not. He gave in his bright 
flamboyance a passing renascence to Society. 
But the Victorian era came soon, and angels 
rushed in where fools had not feared to 
tread, and hung the land with reps, and 
drove Artifice phorth, and set Martin 
Tupper on a throne of mahogany to rule over 

In the tangled aooresoenoy of George's 
degringolade— in fact when ne was dyeing — 
he thought he had led the charge of Water- 
loo! Tristfullv he would describe the soene, 
referring to the Duke of Wellington for 
corroboration* An unfortunate slip, for it is 

well known the old soldier was never there 

It is brillig, and from my window at the 
Metropole, Brighton, I see the trite lawns 
and cheeky minarets of the Pavilion. I can 
see the rooms crusted with ormolu, the fauns 
foisted on the ceiling, the ripping rident god- 
desses on the walls. Once Iphancied I saw a 
swaying phigure, and a wine-red phace. . . . 

P. 8.— I like to phancy the watchful evil 
phaces of my Criticks as they read this article. 
Phair men, but infelix, they will lavish their 
anger in epigramme. Not that I care a 
little tittle about adverse remarks kicked 
from a gutter into a garret ! But ! But let 
them not outgribe too soon, but rather dance 
and be glad, and trip the cockawhoop. For ! 
For, slithy toves as they are, they will read 
it with tears and deaiderium, unless I do as 
did Artemus of shameful memory, and in 
jolliness and glad indulgence whisper to 
them— This is a Goak ! 


I 've a natural eye for evil, 

And folly I love to shoot, 
And to prod for a latent weevil 

In the wholesomest-looking root. 

Mfipse dixit must always fix it— 

The song, the dance, the cup ; 
And my back gets stiff er the more you differ 

From the standard that I set up. 

1 went to the " halls " crusading. 
And I found what I meant to find. 

1 had said they were all degrading, 
And I never alter my mind. 

In virtue strong* I gazed at the throng 
Qf smoking chatters and grinners ; 

With a righteous frown my soul looked down 
On the publicans and the sinners. 

Loftily, proudly, lonely 

I bore what I had to bear, 
For I knew that I was the only 

Respectable Person there ! 

That the others were not respectable 

Was easy and plain to see, 
For they frankly found delectable 

What didn't appeal to me. 

Yet none of the revellers stonily, 

Or scornfully seem'd to stare, 
They took no note of the only 

Respectable Person there. 

My vigilant virtue perchance may hurt you 
By putting constructions worse on 

The pose or picture that draws no strictures 
From the non-respeotahle person. 

But my earliest vigilanoe waked 

To look askance at the nude, 
As another name for naked, 

And therefore distinctly rude. 

From an icy peak of stupendous cheek 

On an alien world I glare, 
And never feel lonely, although I 'm the only 

Respectable Person there ! 

Wonderful Feat op Strength.— The 
strong man supporting four men on a ohair 
is nothing in comparison with an entire train 
• ' held up " by four men ! This was reported 
in the Pall Mall Gazette last Saturday as 
having occurred to a ** Texas Pacific train." 
The armed robbers went off with 20.000dollars. 
Nice " Pacific " train to travel by ! 

Heirlooms. — Mr. Punch congratulates 
Mr. and Mrs. Brerbohm Tree, and their 
Olive Branch little Miss Tree, on the valu- 
able souvenirs of their Balmoral performance 
presented them by Her Majesty^ which, from 
all others, will distinguish this particular 
" Family Tree," 


Morbid fieshlinesais mark 

Of the modern (sham) Art-lover. 
Vulgar seems the soaring lark, 

Music (and meat) are in the plover. 
Painters once made pink the flesh 

Of their Titianesque creations ; 
Caught in Sham's sepulchral mesh 

Art now raves of Green Carnations I 



At Lugano. — Geographically this seems 
to be Italy. But people remind one 
always of the artificial frontier which makes 
it Switzerland. What's that matter P 
Get up early. Ha! 
there it is. Cloud- 
less sky ! And such 
a blue I Ultramarine 
at a guinea the thim- 
bleful. Hurry down \ 
to enjoy its beauty J 
as long as possible. { 
Fortunate I did so, 1 
for by ten o'clock it \ 
has aU vanished. (Jo i 
up a hill. View from 1 
top would be fairly j 
clear for Helvellyn. 
But for Italy ! Ami- 
ableand chatty Italian 
reminds me that I am 
not in Italy. Ah, of 
course not. Will get there as soon as I can. 
Meanwhile mope in hotel, for it is now rain- 
ing steadily. Wot a magnificent mountain 
downpour, with thunder and lightning, howl- 


even in Ambleside. ' But in Ambleside there 
would be a fire. Here I sit in a draughty, 
chilly corridor, with some melancholy Ger- 
mans, all of us wearing overcoats indoors. 
They remind me that I am not in Italy. 
Anyone could see that. 

At PaUanza.— Here on Lago Maggiore 
there must really be the Rowbotham 
effects. My room looks over the lake. "La 
vista e bellissima" says the waiter in the 
evening. Hooray! Now to forget the gloom 
of Switzerland and England. Wake early. 
Misty morning. Good sign of fine weather 
probably. Into bed again. Wake again. Only 
half -past seven. Still misty. Into bed again. 
Wake once more. Still misty. Evidently 
ouite early. Hullo! still half -past seven. 
Watch stopped. Ring. *\Si, Siqnore," says 
the chambermaid, in. the mixed dialect which 
she has invented for foreigners, "il est died 
heures." Ten! By Jove! With that fog? 
She assures me it will clear away, *' se non 
oggi % domani" Bellissima vista looks exactly 
like Derwentwater in rain. Grey water, grey 
sky, grey mountains, wreathed in grey mist 
It does not clear to-day, so it may to-morrow. 

Next day even worse. Fog greyer, and rain 
with it. Mud everywhere. Notice a practical 
German tourist with three umbrellas strapped 
on his knapsack. Wiseman! He knows this 
climate, and also the advantage of a change of 
clothes, or of umbrellas. So useful to have a 
morning* umbrella, an afternoon umbrella, and 
a sort of evening-dress umbrella to bring down 
to the table d'hote. When tired of gazing at 
the mist, I read a three days old Times, pre- 
served in the reading-room. Hullo ! what is 
that sound ? A piano-organ ! Heavens! To 
think that I should have travelled hundreds 
of miles from London to hear the grinding 
of an organ while I read the Times in a fog! 
Why, in Kensington Gardens I could have 
done as much. A First Impressionist. 

November 3, 1894.] 




Law is not Pan; but " Bob " *s a man, 

To make us sure indeed. 
Themis will play airs bright and gay. 

Armed with this" vocal Rm> ,p ! 


44 4 Now I 'm furnished/ " hummed the Baron, 
nished'— with several books for my journey, and- 

U4 NowI'mfur- 
14 Tickets, 

please/ 9 broke in the inspector. ""Just when I was comfortable/* 
growled the Baron ; " but no matter. And now for the Pen and 
Pencil Sketches." 

The father of Mr. Stacy Marks predestined him for the ooaoh- 
building business. Providence, interposing, made him a painter, and 
the gaiety of nations has been increased by the possession of some 
storks. In Pen and Pencil Sketches (Chatto and Windus) he has 

S'ven the world some reminiscences of a career justly crowned by 
ie laurels of the Royal Academy. The work is in two volumes, 
and my Baronite says would have been more than twice as good 
had it been in one. The first volume is charming, with its 
chat about Leigh's studio and the men met there; of Charles 
Keens and the delightful cruise off Gravesend in the William and 
Mary ; of merry days with the St. John's Wood clique ; of nights 
at Arthur Lewis's; and of days with Feed Walker. When 
the flood of memory runs dry, and there still remains a second 
volume to be produced. Mr. Marks grows desperate, and shovels in 
anything he finds handy in the pigeon-holes of his desk. Thus the 
pleased reader finds reprinted articles that appeared in the Spectator 
thirty years ago. when Mr. Marks was art critic to that respectable 
journal. Also there is a description of Bampton, which onoe thrilled 
the readers of the Tiverton Gazette. This gives to the second 
volume something of the smell of an apple store-room. But the 
first is good enough to atone for the burden of the second. By 
a happy coincidence, whilst Mr. Du Maurieb in Trilby has 
made all the world in love with Little BiUee, he appears under his 
own name in many of Mr. Marks' pages, and is always the same 
charming, simple-minded, sensitive man of genius. It is pleasant to 

read how our Mr. Agnew — 44 Wil- 
liam" the wise call him— gave the 
young painter his first substantial 
lift. Walker had painted a picture 
he called " Spring^ a young girl 
gathering primroses in a wood. Yield- 
ing to the advice of his friends, he 
put on it a prioe the amount of which 
abashed him. Mr. Agnew saw the 
picture, recognised its merit, and 
wrote a cheque for the full amount 
asked. When the young artibt heard 
of his good fortune he burst into 
tears, and gasping out " I must go 
and tell my mother," rushed from the place. Of the original sketches 
with w^ion the volumes are enriched are some pen-and-ink drawings 
by Fred Walker, which reveal in a new light the painter of " The 
Almshouse" Amongst many good stories, Mr. Marks tells how he 
was addressed by. a clergyman, who, believing from his name that 
he was a Jew, invited him to look in at his church and be oonverted. 

« Little Billee." 

Marco's" reply conclusively proved his possession of a Christian 

SnrcE Samuel Warren wrote his Diary of a Late' Physician,— 
to which, as the Baron supposes, allu- 
sion is made in p. 200 of this book, 
where the narrator says, **Thus it 
happens that the ablest chronicler of 
their (i.e. medical men's) experiences in 
our literature was a lawyer, —no more 
interesting, and occasionally sensa- 
tional, stories have appeared than those 
written by Mr. ConanDoyle, and pub- 
lished by Methuen & Co. in a single 
volume, under the title of Hound the 

S#TJ&5±& devSS "* I- "»—•" 

into a one act dramatic sketch for Mr. Irving, who, in the part of 
the ancient veteran " lagging superfluous," is reported to have 
achieved a remarkable success. For pathos, A Physiologists Wife is 
as perfect in style as it is original in design ; ot those who want 
to take something strong before going to bed, the Baron can confi- 
dently recommend The Case of Lady Sannox \ while for those of the 
inferior sex whom Providence has blessed with nerves, the Baron 
prescribes to be taken, the last thing at nighty with a favourite 

ipe and a tumbler of the reader* s"special "wanity," the story of 

'tNo. 249;, flights full up," 


as the stage directions say, the 
door locked, and the room 
previously searched, in order to 
be quite sure that no practical 
joker is in hiding behind screen, 
curtains, or under table, who 
might think it humorous to pop 
out when you are deep in the 
story, and l4 give you fits." 

In the Yellow Book, No. 3, 
let me praise Mr. Dowson's 
44 Apple Blossoms in Brittany" ; 
a charming unfinished picture. 
You must guess what the fruit 
may possibly be from the blossom. 
- . w * Wnen I am a King." 

" Beading Lot No. 249." 

Harland'8 ' 

Also very 
Baron db 

is Henry 



T3 RMP M'l 



(After Sasetti.) 

Under a canopy dark-hued 
as— well, 
Consult the Bilious Book, 

page 51— 
Lies pallid Whisxersley's 
presentment, done 
By Whiskbbslet's own 

weird unearthly spell. 
His is that Lady known as 
OrLiUTH, Eden's woman- 
Libifbra, that is, that 
takes the bun, 
Borgia, Vivien, Cussed 

Hers are the bulging lips that 

fairly break 

The pumpkin's heart : and 

hers the eyes that shame 

TheNvanton ape that culls 

the cocoa-nuts. 

Even such the yellow-bellied 

toads that slake 
Nooturnallv their amorous- 
ardent name 
In the wan waste of weary 

An Ecclesiastical Hibebnian-Iberian Meddle and Muddle. 
—Lord Halifax writes to the Cardinal Archbishop of Toledo to 
protest against the appointment of an Anglo-Iberian bishop to Spain 
made by the Archbishop of Dublin & Co. ; and his English Eminenoe 
Cardinal Yaughan writes to Spanish Eminenoe to protest against 
the protest of Lord Halifax. Of which the sum is that all the 
parties to the case are evidently, for the time being, Protestants I 

vol. cvn. 



[November 3, 1894. 


I ashed the Queen of 
Why the blush-rose 
blushed so red, 
Through the sun -rays 
and the showers, 
And so bowed its 
modest head. 
And fair Flora whispered 
It would hurt the rose 
to hear! — 
The beginning of that 

Was not lore, or shame, 
or fear. 
All the pretty faery 
fancies [song, 

That you find in poet* 8 
And encounter in ro- 
Are entirely false and 
That flush so fair and 
Means not 

pride or pity ; 
But hot memories of the 
Of a Vigilance Com- 

Mbs. Chant-1-cleab 
the Music Halls.— So 
the verdict of the L. C. C. 
was against the Empire. 
This, of course, does not 
prove that the Members 
of the Council are amen- 
able to Chantage. On this 
occasion Mrs. Chant made 
them sing to her tune. But 
the tune will not be popu- 

A CkuelPoet.— Father 
Time is the offender when 
he begins to write lines on 
your face. 


My mind a perfect blank 
I 've made, 
Upon a disc I 'ye fixed 
my eves. 
I hoped, oy mesmerism's 
To probe stupendous 
Hour after hour in soli- 
I thus have spent, but, 
to be frank, 
There was no magic tranoe 
My mind remained a 
j perfect blank. 

To stances if I repair, 
"A hostile influence" 
they detect 
t The spirits, of my presenoe 
Their customary rites 
A few faint raps, and they 
I have flown, 

With all their perfumes, 
notes, and flowers. 
The mediums on my en- 
trance frown — 
I am not blest with 
occult powers ! 


Betsy Trotwood {Mrs. London City) to Mr. Dick (Mr. H-w-s). "Now herb tou see 
Sib Christopher Wren's Child, amd the question I put to you is, What shall 
I do with him? Come, I want some very sound Advice." 

The contemplation of Old St. Paul's seemed to inspire him with a sudden 
idea, and he replied briskly, " i 8hould wa8h him i" 

"Mr, H-w-s," said Mrs. London City, "sets us all right. We'll fill the 
Fire-engine with soap-and-water 1" — "David CopperJUld," adapted. 

Perfect.— The Daily 
Telegraph, in a short 
notice or a present mads 
to a Mr. Osler for assist- 
ing the police, mentions 
the unavoidable absence 
on this interesting occa- 
sion of " Chief Inspector 
Belton,"— which is a 
good name suggestive of 
staff attached to "belt 
on,"— and of "Mr. Super- 
intendent Feheett"— 
than which no better 
name was ever found, out 
of a burlesque novel, for 
a clever detective. 


I.— The Old Way. 

Scene.— A Chamber in a Civic Building. The Town Clerk and 

the Auditor discovered at a table covered with papers. 

Clerk. Then I believe that you are entirely satisfied with the 
accounts f 

Auditor. Oh, perfectly. (After a pause.) There is one item I 
wanted to ask about— I 've no doubt you '11 be able to explain it 
satisfactorily— it 's this "£25 for ginger-beer to the Mayor and 
Council on the occasion of opening the new Cemetery." Does not— 
er— that sum represent a rather large number of bottles ? 

Clerk (in an off-hand way). Well, we put down ginger-beer, you 
know, as it looks better, and there's a rather strong temperance 
party in the borough. Of course, it was really champagne— "extra 
sec," too, you bet! 

Auditor. Oh, of course, I merely mentioned the matter for the 
sake of form. And the " £15 for cigars "—that was an expenditure 
incurred at the same time, I conclude P 

Clerk (carelessly). Oh, yes. Y'see, one of the Councillors is the 
leading tobacconist in the place. 

Auditor (relieved). Ah. that accounts for it Then these " models 

of the Crematorium in gold and jewels, as brooches for the wives of 

the Councillors "—1 see they come to £105 in alL 

Clerk (sternly). You don't object to the brooches, I presume f 
a„i^ /-„._i.a ™. — * ^ -« Not fo ihe leait A moft _ 

w .... _ ratepayers' money. 
Mayor's our leading jeweller, you know. 
So, as you've put "Examined and Approved," shall we go in to 
lunch f For a " cold collation on the occasion of the audit" our 
Council always allows £10. It '11 be rather a mod feed. 

[Exeunt into banqueting apartment. 

Auditor (anxiously). Oh, not at alL IS 

i^-gnraiseworthy method of spending the 

Clerk. Quite so. Our Mayor's our If 

II.— The New Wat. 

Auditor. Oh, what larks ! 
[Subsides into a chair, and takes two minutes to recover from 
his fit of merriment. 

Clerk (surprised). I really fail to see where the joke comes in. 

Auditor. Oh, don't you know ? I 'm one of the new class of comic 
auditors—" made in Manchester." What tickles me is this item of 
£17 for gold match-boxes for lighting the cigars of the Mayor and 
Aldermen on the occasion of the visit to the Sewage Farm. There 's 
persiflage, if you like ! 

Clerk (smiling). I 'm glad you take so humorous a view of the 
matter. Of course you allow that expenditure f 

Auditor. Allow it I Not for worlds. Then— (with difficulty re- 
straining another outburst of mirt A)— how about " £27 for oysters 
and Chaolis" after the vidtP 

Clerk. The Council naturally required some refreshment at the 
end of the journey— quite a quarter of a mile, in their own carriages 
—and oysters were rather dear just then— a little out of season. 

Auditor (after a guffaw). Capital 1 "Out of season"— out of 
reason, too, /should say. Of course I must surcharge the oysters and 
Chablis. Really, I 'm enjoying myself immensely P 

Clerk (gloomily). I hope the Council will feel equal enjoyment at 
your report. Do you mean seriously 

Auditor. Seriously! Not a bit of it. I tell you I'm a comic charac- 
ter. And what better practical joke can one play than suddenly to oome 
down on public officials with an audit disallowing all their littlepersonal 
luxuries P Afraid I must strike out these items of ' * Visits to Olympia 
by Corporation to inspect the lighting arrangements," and " Ditto at 
Empire and Alhambra Theatres." No doubt the Aldermen will be 

flaa to pay for them themselves. Now I think the business is finished, 
lunch r No, thanks. A screaming joke like this is lunch enough 
for me. [ Crams handkerchief in mouth, and exU. 

November 3, 1894.] 




If " want of decency is want of sense," 

So want of sense may very likely lead 
To want of deoeney. The poor pretenoe 

Of interested vice sense will not heed* 
A satyr's satire is bnt sorry staff ; 

Anti-Cant's canting is most sickening fudge. 
Belial, who backs his trade with bounce and bluff, 

Wins not a case where wisdom is the judge. 
Protests against the pryings of the prude 
Are not to help the profitably lewd. 


(By an Affable Philosopher and Courteous Friend.) 
How to Bitter the Civil Service. 

Ik the good old days of yore there was little trouble in 
obtaining admission to the Civil Service. All that was neces- 
sary was a slight knowledge of a Cabinet Minister, and a smat- 
tering of schooling. The latter might be obtained at Eton, 
Winchester, Rugby, Westminster, or Harrow. The acquaint- 
ance of the Minister, of course, had to be made by your lather. 
You were too young to have attracted the attention of so 
important a personage. Suppose you had reached the mature 
age of eighteen, and had given up the round jackets and collars 
of boyhood, and had assumed ** stick-ups" and "cutaways." 
your lather would probably ask you " What you intended to do 

44 No, my dear fellow," would be the paternal reply to a 
suggestion about Trinity or Christ Church. ** I am afraid I 
can't manage either. You see, your two elder brothers went to 
the University, but then we could find them family livings. It 
would be useless to let you read for the Bar, because we haven't 
any of us married into a single firm of Solicitors ; and in these 
hard times I really can't afford to buy you a commission." 

You would notioe sotto voce that when ways and means were 
being discussed, times were always hard. 

"I suppose you could be a doctor if you pleased ; but walk- 
ing the hospitals is not a particularly pleasant occupation. Then 
there is another opening— why not try the Civil Service P " 

You would rather freshen up at this. You would have read 
in a comic paper, that never will be nameless, that Govern- 
ment clerks were like the fountains in Trafalgar Square (old 
style), *• because they played from ten to four." 

44 Well, yes," you would return. " I don't think I should 
mind that so much. It would be rather fun to go to Paris as an 

44 I'm afraid I couldn't quite manage that, my dear boy," your 
fond parent would respond. " They don't pay attache's at first, and 
so you would have to be satisfied with the War Office or the 
Admiralty instead of the Foreign Office." 

44 All riffht, Pater," you would say, and leave the matter in the 
hands of tae elder generation. 

Then your father would write to any Cabinet Minister of his 
acquaintance about things in general and nothing in particular, 
and would add a t4 P.8." asking for a nomination. In due course a 
reply would come granting the sweet boon. A test examination 
would follow of a perfunctory character, and an intimation of your 
appointment would be the sequel. Then you would take up your 
daily residence in Pall Mall or Whitehall for twenty or thirty years 
and then retire as a Knight or a C.B. Thus was done in the com- 
paratively long ago. But now-a-days another plan has to be adopted. 

Instead of entering the Civil Service as a junior join it as a senior. 
As a preliminary you must get into the Home, This is simpler 
than having to cram and then stand the racket of a competitive 
examination. Any one under certain conditions can enter Parliament, 
but the Civil Service Commissioners bar the entranoe to the Govern- 
ment offices with equally certain regulations. For the sake 
of argument let me assume that you are in the House. 
You have stood for Slooum-on-the-Marsh, and have per- 
suaded the Slooum-on-the-Marshers to elect you. As an 
M.P. you are duly qualified to accept any appointment 
under the Crown when the Government ask you. The best 
plan is to think of an offioe and then add one to it— yourself . 

44 Why not the Public Squander Department Y " you ask yourself. 
To which you reply with a second question, 44 Why not? " 

Yes, the P. S. D. is not half bad. But how to get into it Well, 
why not take up Milestones ? All the world knows that the Publio 
Squander Department are responsible for all the Milestones not 
under the superintendence of the county authorities. Go for the 

Begin with a question. Learn that the Milestones in the Old 
Bath Road are in many cases illegible. Bequest the Secretary of 


"I saw a Rabbit bun thbouoh that Hkdgb 1" 


"Abb 'M aginations Whitb bbhind?" 

the Public Squander Department to inform you when the inscription 
of such and such a Milestone was last restored f The official will 
fence the query. Probably his Private Secretary, considering you a 
new man, will have failed to furnish the necessary information. 
You must expeot a little retardation at the first set-on. 

And here let me point out for your future guidance the importance 
of haying a private secretary thoroughly up to his work. Had your 
answerer been possessed of the proper sort of assistant you would 
have been discovered, respectfully button-holed, and perforce satis- 
fied. You would never have had the heart to put your question 
about the Milestones. But the particular Private Secretary of your 
answerer being not up to his work you get snubbed. 
But don't be discouraged ; stick to your Milestones. 
Bombard u the Bight Hon. Gentleman opposite" with questions. 
Ask him for particulars about the Milestones in the Old Kent Road 
and on Salisbury Plain. If he requests notioe, give him notioe. By 
degrees you will find that you are becoming an institution. Mile- 
stones are your specialty. When the House is sitting demand 
particulars. When the House is up, write to the papers. Move 
for returns about Milestones. Go down to Slocum-on-the-Marsh and 
read papers on Milestones. If possible, be made a F.S.A. on the 
strength of your knowledge of Milestones. So identify yourself 
with Milestones that when your name is casually mentioned 
anywhere, let it be common form for some one to say, * 4 Of 
course, the chap who looks after the Milestones." 

Wait patiently until your side move over from the Opposi- 
tion to the Government benohes. Then will come your oppor- 
tunity. You will have sat upon a Milestone Commission. 
You nave been very instrumental in ratting Milestones 
polished. You have caused Milestones to be multiplied. All these 
services must be recognised. And they will. 

You will find yourself offered the Secretaryship of the Publio 
Squander Department— to take care of the Milestones. Accept it. 
You will now have become a Civil Servant. On some future occasion 
I may suggest how you may tuooessfully perform your duties in your 

new position. 

' ' ■ = f^> T 

DBFnnnoir.— A London Square is the Paradise of Perambulators, 



[November 3, 1894. 


(A Story in Scenes.) 

Scene XiVll. (continued). — The Chinese Drawing Boom. Spur- 
rell's ingenuous remark upon the coincidence of the title of the 
volume in his hand with the name of his bull-dog has produced 
a painful silence, which no one has sufficient presence of mind 
to break for several seconds. 
Miss Spelwane (to herseff). Not Clarion Blair ! Not even a 
poet ! I— I could slap him ! 

PUUner (to himself). Poor dear Vivien ! But if people will insist 
on patting a strange poet, they mustn't be surprised rf they get a 
nasty bite ! 

Lady Maisie (to herself). He didn't write Andromeda! Then 
he hasn't got my letter after all ! And I 've been such a brute to the 
poor dear man ! How lucky I said nothing 
about it to Gerald ! 

Captain Thicknesse (to himsetf). So 
he amH the bard ! . . . Now I see why 
Maisie *s been behayin' so oddly all the 
evenin' ; she spotted him, and didn't like 
to speak out. Tried to give me a hint, 
though. Well, I shall stay out my leave 

Lady Rhoda (to herself). I thought all 
along he seemed too good a sort for a poet! 
Archie (to himsetf). It's all very well ; 
but how about that skit he went up to 
write on us P He must be a poet of sorts. 
Mrs. Brooke- Chatteris (to herself). 
This is fearfully puzzling. What made 
him say that about " Lady Grisoline " ? 

The Bishop (to himself). A crushing 
blow for the Countess; but not unsalu- 
tary. I am distinctly conscious of feeling 
more kindly disposed to that young man. 
Now why ? [ He ponders. 

Lady LulUngton (to herself ). Ithought 
this young man was going to read us some 
of his poetry ; it 's too tiresome of him to 
stop to tell us about his bull-dog. As if 
anybody cared what he called it I 

Lord LuUington (to himself). Uncom- 
monly awkward, this! If I could catch 
Laura's eye— but I suppose it would 
hardly be decent to go just yet. 

Lady Culverin (to herseff). CanRoHE- 
siA have known this? What possible 

object oould she have had in And 

oh, dear, how disgusted Rupert will be ! 

h Sir Rupert (to himself). Seems a decent 

young chap enough ! Too bad of Rohisia 

[ to let him in for this. I don't care a straw 

» what he is— he's none the worse for not 

being a poet. 

Lady Cantire (to herself). What is he 

maundering about? It's utterly inoon- 

, ceivable that I should have made any 

| mistake. It's only too dear what the 

, cause is— Claret ! 

SpurreU (aloud, good- humour edly). Too 
bad of you to try and spoof me like this 
before everybody, Miss Spelwane! I 

! don't know whose idea it was to play me such a trick, but 

i Miss Spelw. (indistinctly). Please understand that nobody here 
1 had the least intention of playing a trick upon you ! 

Spurr. Well, if you say so, of course But it looked rather 

like it, asking me to read when I 've about as much poetry in 
me as— as a pot hat! Still, if I 'm wanted to read aloud, I shall be 

happy to oblige 

j Lady Culv. (hastily). Indeed, indeed, Mr. Spurrell, we couldn't 
{ think of troubling you under the circumstances ! (In desperation.) 
j Vivien, my dear, won't you sing something ? 

[The company echo the request with unusual eagerness. 

Spurr. (to himself, during Miss Spblwans's song). Wonder what's 

put them off being read to all of a sudden. (As hut eye happens to 

j rest on the binding of the volume on his knee.) Hullo I This cover's 

I pink, with silver things, not unlike cutlets, on it! Didn't Emma 

I ask me ? By George, if it's that! I may get down to the 

Housekeeper's Room, after all ! As soon as ever this squalling stops 
I '11 find out ; I can't go on like this ! (Miss Spelwane leaves the 
piano ; everybody plunges feverishly into conversation on the first 
sublet-other than poetry or dogs— that presents itself, until Lord 
and Lady Lullington set a welcome example of departure.) Better 

wait till these county nobs have cleared, I suppose— there goes the 
last of 'em— now f or it ! . • . (He pulls himsetf together, and ap- 
proaches his host and hostess.) Hem, Sir Rupert, and your lady- 
ship, it 's occurred to me that it 's just barely possible you may have 
got it into your heads that I was something in the poetical way. 

Sir Rup. (to himself). Not this poor young chap's fault ; must let 
him down as easily as possible ! (Aloud.) Not at all— not at all ! Ha 
—assure you we quite understand ; no necessity to say another word 
about it. 

Spurr. (to himself). Just my luck ! They quite understand ! No 
Housekeeper's Room for me this journey! (Aloud.) Of course I 
knew the Countess, there, and Lady Maisie, were fully aware all 

along (To Lady Maisie, as stifled exclamations reach his ear.) 

You were, were'nt you ? 

Lady Maisie (hastily). Yes, yes, Mr. Spurrell. Of course ! It *s 

all perfectly right ! 

Spurr. (to the others). You see, I should never have thought of 

ooming in as a visitor if it hadn't been for 

the Countess ; she would have it that it 

was all riffht, and that I needn't be afraid 

I shouldn't be welcome. 

Lady Culv. To be sure— any friend of 

my sister-in-law's 

Lady Cant. Albinia, I have refrained 
from speech as long as possible ; but this 
is really too much! You don't suppose I 
should have introduced Mr. Spurrell 
here unless I had had the strongest 
reasons for knowing, however he may be 
pleased to mystify us now, that he, and 
nobody else, is the author of Andromeda ! 
And I, for one, absolutely decline to be- 
lieve in this preposterous story of his 
about a bull-dog. 

Spurr. But your ladyship must have 
known ! Why, you as goocf as asked me 
on the way here to put you down for a 
bull-pup ! | 

Lady Cant. Never, never! A bull-pup 
is the last creature I should ever dream of 
coveting. You were obliging enough to 
ask me to accept a presentation copy of 
your verses. 

Spurr. Was I? I don't exactly see 
how I could have been, considering I 
never made a rhyme in my life ! 

Sir Rup. There, there, Rohesia, it was 
your mistake ; but as we are indebted to 
it for the pleasure of making Mr. Spur- 

rell's acquaintance 

Lady Cant. I am not in the habit of 
making mistakes, Rupert. I don't know 
what you and Albinia and Maisie may 
know that I am in ignorance of, but, sinoe 
you seem to have been aware from the 
first that Mr. Spurrell was not the poet 
you had invited here to meet me, will you 
kindly explain what^has become of the 
real author ? 

Sir Rup. My dear Rohesia, I don't 
know and I don t care ! 

Lady Cant. There you are wrong, 

Rupert, because it 's obvious that if he 

is not Mr. Spurrell, his absence has to 

be accounted for in some way. 

Spurr. By Jove, I believe I can put you on the track. I shouldn't 

wonder if he 's the party these dress clothes of mine belong to I 1 

daresay you may have notioed they don't look as if they were made 

for me ? 

Lady Cant, (closing her eyes). Pray let us avoid any sartorial dis- 
cussions ! We are waiting to hear about this person. 

Spurr. Well, I found Pd got on his things by mistake, and I went 
up as soon as I could after dessert to my room to take 'em off, and 

there he was, with a waste-paper basket on his head 

Lady Cant. A waste-paper basket on his head! And pray what 
should he have that for Y 

Spurr. He said he wouldn't take it off till he saw me. And I 
never saw anyone in such a mess with ink and flour as he was ! 

Lady Cant. Ink and flour, indeed! This rigmarole gets more 
ridiculous every moment ! You can't seriously expect anyone here to 
believe it ! T Archie discreetly retires to the smoking-room. 

Spurr. Well, I rather think somebody must have fixed up a booby 
trap for me, you know, and he happened to go in first and get the 
benefit of it. And he was riled, very naturally, thinking I T d done 
it, but after we 'd had a little talk together, he calmed down and said 
I might keep his clothes, which I thought uncommonly good- 

Albinia, I think I will go to bed!" 

November 3, 1894.] 



natural of him, yon know. By the way, he gave me his card. Here 
it is, if your ladyship would like to see it. 

[He hands it to Lady Culverht. 

Lady CWr. " Mr. Undershell ! . . . Rohesia, that is Clarion 
Blair 1 I knew it was something ending: in *' ell." (To Spurrexl. ) 
And yon say Mr. Underbhell is here—in this house r 

Spurr. Not now. He's gone by this time. 

The Others {in dismay). Gone ! 

Spurr. He said he was leaving at once. If he 'd only told me how 
it was, I 'd have 

Lady Cant. I don't believe a single word of all this! If Mr. 
SruRRELL is not Clarion Blair, let him explain how he came to be 
coming down to Wy vern this afternoon ! 

[Partial reaction in company. 

Spurr. If your ladyship doesn't really know, you had better a>k 
Sir Rupert; he *H tell you it 's all ri$ht. 

Lady Cant. Then perhaps you will be good enough to enlighten 
us, Rupert P 

Sir Hup. (driven into a corner). Why, 'pon my word, I 'm bound 
to say that I 'm just as much in the dark as anybody 

. - -„ else, if it come* 
to that! 

Spurr. (eagerly). But you wired me to come, Sir! About a horst 
of yours ! I f ve been wondering all the evening when you 'd tell m* 
I could go round and have a look at him. I'm here instead oi 
Mr. Spavin— now do you understand, Sir Rupert ? I 'm the Vet. 

[Suppressed sensation. 

SirfRup. (to himself). This is devilish awkward I Don't quite 

know what to do. (Aloud*) To— to be sure you are ! Of course ! 

That 's it, Rohesia ! Mr. Spubrell came down to see a horse, and 

we shall be very glad to have the benefit of his opinion by-and-by. 

[He claps him amicably on the shoulder. 

Lady Cant, (in a sepulchral tone). Albinia, I think I will go to 
bed. [She withdraws. 

Sir Hup. (to himself). There '11 be no harm in letting him stay, 
now he is here. If Rohesia objects, she 's got nobody but herself to 
blame for it ! 

Spurr. (to himself). They won't want to keep me upstairs muoh 
longer after this ! (Tredwell enters, and seems to have something 
of importance to communicate to Sir Rupert tin private.) I wonder 
what the doooe is up now ! 

(By a Profound Thinker.) 

I don't know why, but fifty times a day. 

To you my thoughts persistently will fly, 
You come to me, and, coming, come to stay— 
I don't know why. 

Sometimes I catch myself inclined to try 
From heart and mind to banish you away. 

I always fail. If you are not too shy, 
Just write a line to tell me that I may 

Think fondly of you. Then in future 1 
Shall think of you, and never want to say 
I don't know why. 


Dear Mr. Punch,— I trust you will give me the hospitality of your 
columns (and thus save me the oost of extensive advertising) to 
announce that I intend to offer myself as a candidate for all the eleven 
divisions at the forthcoming School Board Election. I do this for 
several reasons. In the first place, as I have no more chance in any 
one place more than in any other, I feel it quite impossible to make 
any choice. Besides, to be elected at the top of eleven polls would be 
an unique distinction, second only to being defeated at the bottom of 
eleven. In the next plaoe, as I oan find no other persons who will 
come forward on my platform, I am bound to offer myself every- 
where. My views are extensive, not to say peculiar. On the 
religious question, I agree with everything that has been said by 
everybody. I hope in this way to avoid incurring odium theologicum 
of any kind. I am in favour of no one paying rates unless he has 
children actually at a Board School. I am told that this will not 
secure for me the Labour Vote, but it ought, at any rate, to rally to 
my side all the " intelligent and respeotable." On all other points I 
believe I am well fitted to sit on the London School Board. I under- 
stand that at its meetings oysters and Chablis are sometimes the order 
of the day. If I am returned, my main object, I avow it frankly, 
will be to make them the standing order. Soliciting the vote of 
every patriotic citizen, I am, 

Yours up-to-(being-a-candi-)date, 

October 27. Wottol Ark. 


[" A Constant Reader's " favourite craze is now being discussed in 
all the papers.] 



Mrpoor Mayonnaise, they have sullied your fame ! 

They would alter your spelling, my sweet Mayonnaise. 
The younger Dumas has e-mended your name 

And sent you forth " o "-less the rest of your days. 

So this man of romances— this writer of plays— 
Who has woven full many a plot in his time- 
Would force us to spell you henceforth Mayonnaise. 
Nay ! this is a plot little short of a crime ! 

'Twill make not an atom of diff'rence to me. 

The younger Dumas may discourse as he will ; 
He's welcome, with Weller, to '* spell with a * wee'" — 

To me and the world you are Mayonnaise still. 

He says, at the lime when the city Mayenne 
Was besieged by an armv and riddled with shot. 

Your charms were acknowledged and praised by the men. 
Was that army not led by Sir Thomas de Rot f 

Say, Queen of the Sauces, which vow*l shall it be P 
Will you yield up the name your admirers bestow P 

Pronounce — while your lover is down on an " J5" — 
Is it that which you choose ? Is it yes ? or a " NO" ? 

%* This correspondence must now cease.— Ed. 

"Whebe is He?" — With diamond robberies and darksomo 
murders, of which the perpetrators are still at large, we are all 
crying out for a real genuine "Sherlock Holmes." We, Watsons, 
are waiting for him to step forward and drag various dark mysteries 
into the light of day. Cheerfully shall the ooming Holmes be 
saluted with Mr. Broortield's refrain, " Sherlock, you wonder- 



[November 3, 1894. 



Mr. Wilkinson, "Charmed with her? I should think sol Who wouldn't be! Why, I've absolutely forgotten who 
the Lady was I took into Dinner, and who sat on my othkr bids ! " 
Lady Visitor. "I 'm afraid it happened to be Mm, Mr. Wilkinson ! " 


'The Bold Foacher." 

When I was bound by Party ties to play the bold Premier, 
I shouldered of my gun, my lads, and started void of fear ; 
With my trusty lurcher at my heels, to whom the sport is dear, 
For he 's game for tight by day or night at the season of the year ! 

As I and my bold comrade were after bird or hare. 

The gamekeeper was watching us ; for him we did not care. 

For we were on our ground, my boys, grounds free to tyke or peer ; 

And they 're my delight by day or night at the season of the year ! 

As I and my bold oomrade were in the Peers' Preserve, 
We heard the keeper's footsteps, but we did not halt or swerve. 
But I whistled— to keep up my pluck— a song to sportsmen dear : 
" Oh it 's my delight on a shiny night, in the season of the year ! " 

The Gamekeeper popped through the copse, and faced us with a 

He 's got a black-a- vised stern phiz, and a ooat o' velvet brown. 
He says " Hillo, Sir ! Poaching f " I retorts, " Oh, don't you fear ! 
A gent may poach his own preserves at the season of the year ! " 

He says, " You ought to be ashamed to set so bad example 

A sportsman true won't join the crew who trespass, trap, and 

A dirty bird fouls its own nest ! " he adds, with a sour sneer. 
44 Swells should not poach by day or night in the season of the year." 

Says I, " You sneer, but I 'm your peer, my Sol. The people sent me ! 
Stare like an owl, or sneer and soowl, you know you can't prevent me ! 
These here Preserves want breaking up, Monopoly's pitoh to queer 
Is our delight by day or night, in the season of the year. 

" A-Doaching on one's own preserves scarce poaching seems at alL 
My foot is on my native — copse ! The old Game Laws must fall. 
The ' Peers' Preserves ' the people will throw open—or else dear, 
And you'll have to fight for your old old right at the season of the 

41 You ask me if I like the job ? That 's neither here nor there ! 
I 'm simply bound to do it, and I really don't much care. 
If Peers will claim the best o' the jrame, and strive the rest to queer, 
We 'U take our right, by day or night, at the season of the year! " 

Mr. Asqutth was reported the other day to have said that the 
Government was spoken of as having been accused of refusing so- 
called amendments to the Employers' Liability Bill in "peacock 
temper." The Daily News, in referring to this, suggests that 
"peacock temper" was a misprint for pique, or temper." But 
surety this is not so. Mr. Asquith evidently has given in his 
adhesion to the new system of " colour adjectives." This opens 
great possibilities to the future. Radicals will denounce the " scarlet 
MMtndals of the purple-clad .peers." Tories will wax eloquent on 
44 the pink miasma of revolutionary Radicalism." No one will know 
what it all means, but that is part of the programme. Even if this 
colour scheme will not work, there is still a justification for the 
Asquithian phrase. Everybody has heard of a "foul slander." 
Why not a 44 peaoock temper " ? 

A Case of Parallelism. 
(Extracts from the Report of a recent Conference.) 

" Dr. Stanley Boyd advocated "Mrs. Stanley Boyd thought 
the use of milk and lentil soup." that all such novels as The 

Heavenly Twins, The Manx- 
man, and The Wages of Sin, 
should be tabooed." 

Sir Petes.— A well-written letter in the Times last week puts 
what may be called "The Hard Case of Sir Peter Edlin"— and, 
indeed, he must be pretty well case-hardened at the Middlesex Ses- 
sions by this time— clearly and forcibly before the public. Sir Peter 
Edlin, it seems, has been doing treble the amount of work for a 
two-third's salary. This should be righted, and the Judge at the 
Middlesex Sessions should be independent of the would-be ubiquitous 
L. C. C. Such is the opinion of this Correspondent to the Times, 
and it is doubtless the opinion of a fair and just majority. A* 
Joseph Surface observes in The School for Scandal,- " Well, it will 
give Sir Peter great satisfaction to hear this." 

Only Natural.— A shareholder at a recent company meeting 
complained, with some amount of feeling, that he found it next to 
impossible to obtain a " good penny bun." Can it be that so many 
people have " taken the bun ,r that there are none left? 





Td "Youwe Fnxow" R-s-b-by. "IF I AM POACHING, I'M ON MY OWN PRESERVES. 


Digitized by 

Google :j 

Novkmbmb 3, 1894.] 




'Tis a brilliant autumn day, 
And the breeze has blown away 
All the clouds that lowered gray, 

So methinks, 
As I 've half an hour to spare, 
I will go and take the air, 
While the weather still is fair, 

On the links. 

I admire the splendid view, 

The delicious azure hue 

Of the ocean and— when, whew ! 

With a crack, 
Lo ! there drops a little ball 
Which elects to break its fall 
By alighting on the small 

Of my back. 

In the distance some one cries 
Some remark about my eyes, 
None too pleasant, I surmise, 

From the tone ; 
So away my steps I turn 
Till a figure I discern, 
Who is mouohing by the burn 

All alone. 

He has lost a new '* Eclipse," 
And a little word that slips 
From his sulky-looking lips 

Tells me true 
That, besides the missing ball, 
Which is gone beyond recall, 
He has lost— what 's worst of all- 
Temper too. 

I conclude it will be best 
If I leave him unaddressed, 
Such a melancholy quest 

To pursue ; 
And I pass to where I spy 
Clouds of sand uprising high 
Till they all but hide the sky 

From the view. 

They proceed, I understand, 
From a bunker full of sand, 
Where a golfer, club in hand, 

Freely swears 
As he hacks with all his might, 
Till his oountenanoe is quite 
As vermilion as the bright 

Coat he wears. 

I observe him for a while 
With a highly-tickled smile, 
For it is the queerest style 
Ever seen : 


The Stork as he might have been. 

He is very short and stout. 
And he knocks the ball about, 
But he never gets it out 
On the green. 

Still I watch him chop and haok, 

Till I hear a sudden crack, 

And the club-head makes a track 

In the light— 
There's a startled eryof "FORE ! " 
As it flies, and all is e'er I— 
I remember nothing more 

Till to-night, 

When I find myself in bed 
With a lump upon my head 
Like a penny loaf of Dread ; 

And methinks, 
For the future I '11 take care, 
When I want a little air, 
That I won't go anvwhere 

Near the Links. 


I've always done my best to 
Then wherefore do they scoff ? 
A headless ghost, in days like 
Is very badly off. 

Some say, for Mtebs we ought 
to go, 

And some for Mr. Stead. 
I really can't profess to know, 

For I have lost my head. 

They come and ask me for a key 
To life's dark prison cell. 

Oh, what's the use of asking me t 
However can J tell ? 

I do not understand the speech 
Of all these learned men. 

Wildly I wave my hand at each, 
Again and yet again. 

I feel that I have stayed too late, 
And yet I can't move on. 

I 'm utterly inadequate, 
Because my head is gon». 

I wish I were I don't know what. 

I wish that I were dead. 
I don't know if I am or not. 

For I have lost my head I 


•* Cricket was a far superior game to golf 
or tennis," said Lord Knutsford to the mem- 
bers of the Victoria Park Cricket Association ; 
and he went on to tell a story of the first 
introduction of cricket to Tonga, one of the 
Pacific Islands. Everybody took up the game 
to heartily that State affairs were allowed to 
slide altogether, and at last the King of Toho a 
bad to lay down rules as to the times when 
the game might be indulged in. " Even then 
the Prime Minuter was with difficulty pre- 
vented from bowling during forbidden hours." 
For Tonga read Westminster-— where a good 
deal of tongue— ah !— goes on— and we get a 
result something like this : — 

"After the usual luncheon interval, the 
Leader of the Opposition and the ex-Umpire- 
General faced the delivery of the First Com- 
missioner of Stumps and the Soorin' Secretary. 
The punishment inflicted by the former on th« 
bowling led to a Cabinet crisis, ending in the 
Secretary of State resigning his office and the 
leather to the Lord High Wicket-keep. The 
result of this change was soon apparent, for 
the Leader of the Opposition was olean bowled 
by a quotation from Hansard, and his place 

was taken by a prominent member from below 
the Opposition Gangway. 

" As the soore still mounted, the Ministry 
decided to apply the Closure to the game, an 
effort which was resisted by the whole force 
of the Opposition, armed with pads and 
wickets. During the all-night innings which 
ensued the Prime Minister retired hurt, and 
the Ministry were finally driven into the Pavi- 
lion, where they expressed a decided intention, 
in consequence of the underhand bowling of 
their opponents, of at once appealing to the 
country. The Committee of Lords' has placed 
its veto on these disorderly proceedings, and 
* Down with the Lords ' is likely to T>e the 
Ministerial rallying-cry during the forth- 
coming Election. 

A Literary Discovery.— It has been 
hitherto thought that only two " G. 0. M.'s " 
existed, the one, par excellence, being The 
G. 0. M., and the other, the Right Hon. G. 0. 
Moboak. But there is a third, and he is Ge-o 
M(kr edith). No more at present. 

Title foe a Temperance Tale.— Under 
the Red Nose! \ 


No novels now, but novelettes ; 
Cigsrs give place to cigarettes. 
Titanic " suns" to twinkling " stars," 
Pictures to sketches, "pomes " to " pars " ; 
Bonnets to things like housemaids' caps, 
Banquets to tit-bits, books to scraps, 
And three-vol novels to " short stories." 
Gibbon-like length and epic glories, 
Like mammoths and cave-bears, are gone, 
Earth brings not back the mastodon ; 
The microbe takes its place. They kill us 
Not by a giant, but bacillus. 
Monsters, huge dragons, Laidly Worms, 
We fear no more, 'tis unseen '* {terms " 
That floor us in our life's full pride. 
We want a " Jack the Germicide," 
And not the Giant Killer now. 
Behemoth and the big bow-wow 
Are (rone ; for aught not smart and little 
We do not care one jot or tittle ! 

Familiar Latin Quotation (adapted Jot 
the use of Empire* Alhambra, and Music 
Halls generally). — Spectaculw 
venit inspector ; out tipsy." 

""*"" "*?' 

v bogle 

November 3, 1894.] 




Not those, along the route prescribed 

To see them in a hurry. 
Church, palace, gallery, described 

By worthy Mr. Murray. 

Nor those detailed as well by whom 
But Baedeker, the German : 

The choir, the nave, the font, the tomb, 
The pulpit for the sermon. 

No tourist traps which tire you out, 

A never-ending worry ; 
Most interesting things, no doubt, 

Described by Mr. Murray. 

Nor yet, gastronomic mind — 

In cookery a bos9, sage 
In recipes— you will not find, 

I mean Bologna sausage. 

Not beauties, which, perhaps, you class 
"With your own special curry ; 

Not beauties, which we must not pass 
If led by Mr. Murray. 

I ting— alas, how Yery ill ! — 

Those beauties of the city, 
The praise of whose dark eyes might fill 

A much more worthy ditty. 

0, Ladies of Bologna, who 
The coldest heart might flurry, 

I much prefer to study you 
Than Baedeker or Murray ! 

Those guide-book rights no longer please ; 

Three hours still, tre ore, 
I have to lounge and look at these 

Bellissime ngnore. 

Then slow express— South Western goes 

Much faster into Surrey — 
Will take me off to other shows 

Described by Mr. Murray* 

But still, Signore, there will be, 

By your sweet faces smitten, 
One Englishman who came to see 

What Baedeker has written. 

Let Baedeker then see the lot 

In frantic hurry-scurry. 
I 've found some beauties which are not 

Described by Mr. Murray. 

{Funeral of James Anthony Froude.) 

Scarce Clio's self, calm-soul'd historic Muse, 
Praise to her fiery votary may refuse. 
Though lacking somewhat the judicial poise 
Of clear mind unperturbed by faction's noise, 
And creed's fanatio clamour, valued most 
But her who heads the grave recording host 
His vivid pictures live ; his virile touch 
(Though oft of the too little or too much 
Ardently heedless in his passionate flow 
Of words that wake and thoughts that warmly 

Quickens the past, and moves* the patriot 

0! British manhood . His the stylist's part. 
The partisan's imprissiveness. He missed 
The highest height, clear, cloudless, morning- 
But long will he be dear to those who love 
The pioturings that charm, the words that 

And the grave Muse may well let fall a tear, 
And lay her tribute laurel on his bier. 

Neat and Appropriate.— To the Prow- 
una Prys and their allies, the Visiting In- 
justices, may be addressed the ancient charge 
made against certain spies, " Nay, but to see 
the nakedness of the land have ye come." 

feiHWffe . 


The Reverend Motley, who makes one of a River-Party, fancies he met a 
Glance of Recognition from the Eye of his somewhat austere Bishop, and feels a 
trifle uncomfortable. 


{Hit reflection after reading of the Boa-bolting 
incident at the Zoo,) 

Sr. Patrick had a potent fist, 

And was a saint right clever, 
When he eave the snakes and toads a twist 

And bothered them for ever. 
But ooh ! here 's a betther plan than Pat's ! 

'Twould have saved the saint much bother 
Had he trated the snakes like Kilkenny oats, 

And made them swallow each other. 
And even now 'twould save much row 

In the shplit-up Oirish Parthy, [revolt, 
Could McCarthy^ "bolt" end Redmond's 

Or Redmond swallow McCarthy I 

Sporting.— ' Arry is delighted to hear that 
there is a two-year-old running named Mr- 
riet. " It 's spelt Ariette I know," he says, 
11 but that 's just French oussedness." 


" Could I but rule ! " with emphasis you say ; 
Then, doubtless, evil would be swept away. 
How to begin, of course, is your affair, 
Such practical arrangements are your care ; 
Our task would be no more than to obey I 

Injustioe then would speedily decay, 
Merit, and only merit, then would par ; 
Which means, perhaps, I 'd be a millionaire 
Could I but rule I 

Well, many kings have lived and reigned their 

I rather doubt if your despotic sway 
Would quite fulfil the objects of your prayer; 
Many have tried, and ended in despair, 
And you, perhaps— But still you answer ' * Nay, 
Could /but rule!" 

The Real •• Sun of Yore."— Prank Loot- 
wood, Solicitor-General. 



[November 3, 1894. 


Mr. Punch,— Dear Sir,— As an able-bodied seaman and expert on 
the marine serpent and other such questions of the hour, I have been 
Tery properly asked for my opinion on the late collisions in the far 
East Lest my utterances should be misrepresented by journals un- 
accustomed to deal with refinements of maritime phraseology, I send 
you a correct report of my interview. 
44 What deduction," began the reporter from the recesses of a 

deck-chair that 
had figured at 
Trafalgar, "do 
you make with 
regard to the 
future of naval 
warfare from the 
engagements o f 
which we have 
lately read such 
distracting ac- 

44 My leading 
deduction," I re- 
plied, 44 is that it 
is difficult before- 
hand to conjecture 
which side is go- 
ing to win, and 
impossible after- 
wards to disoover which has actually won. History, however, and a 
long course of technical experience, alike convinoe me that, given 
equal courage and skill on both sides, vessels equally well eauipped 
and armoured and of precisely similar shape, tonnage, and lighting 
power, victory may be expected, in many oases out of a few more, 
to fall to the party that is numerically the stronger of the two. Tou 
are. perhaps, with me on this point \ " 

I confess," he replied, 4 * that you throw for me a new and lurid 
light on a question always difficult for the lay mind to grapple with. 
But tell me of the torpedo and its mission." 

44 The deadliness," I said, 4 *of this modern weapon of naval war- 
fare is to be fully appreciated by such alone as have been its unhappy 
victims. In the incredibly short space of time between the moment 
of impact and the decease of those who are, as an immediate result, 
blown to indistinguishable atoms, no reliable evidence has, in the 
nature of things, been taken down from the lips of the people best 
qualified to submit it. 

44 Disconnected fragments of speech, chiefly of a profane character, 
constitute the sole testimony upon which we have to base our con- 
elusions. But we may safely affirm that one of the most, if not 
the most, important detail in the manipulation of this projectile 
is the aim. Wrongly directed it is comparatively innocuous. In the 
unavoidable hurry and confusion of the moment, when the attention 
of the operator is diverted by the reiterated play of missiles upon his 
person, possibly a prey at the verv time to insufferable nausea, it is 
almost impossible to guarantee the missile from aberration. You 
will pardon my technicalities ? " 

44 1 thank you," he replied, ** and I follow you. But in what way 
do you account for the suooess of the Japanese with these submarine 
weapons f " 

44 Peruse the reports," I answered, " and draw your own deduc- 
tions. 4 On the morning of the ISth ' (the morrow of the battle) 4 the 
Japanese flotilla of torpedo-boat* returned to the Yalu and leisurely 
destroyed with torpedoes several stranded Chinese vessels? 

44 Here we have the best conceivable endorsement of my views. 
That which in the exoitement of the fray they were impotent to 
achieve, this l with fitting leisure, unhampered by the annoyance of 
hostile opposition, and with the object rigidly fixed, as in a vice, 
they effected with unqualified and unquestioned suooess." 

Dazzled by my reflections he proceeded to put a fresh conun- 
drum to me. "What say you," he asked, "to the resources of 
China ? I see that the Dowager Empress has sent three millions of 
tael« to the forces." 

44 The tael," I explained, "is excellent eating. I perceive no 
immediate reason for the evacuation of Peking as far as the supply 
of game is concerned. This, however, is a side issue, and not strictly 
nautical in its bearing. 

44 To proceed at onoe, and in conclusion, to the matter of our own 
naval supremacy" (for I saw this inevitable question already framed 
on his lips), '* I will give you in a word the accumulated wisdom of 
long years of naval intuition. My motto is * Always win ! ' 

Onoe let the enemy, however inferior, win, and for the time 
being you are beaten. We are— and here I rely not only on my own 
observation, but on the testimony of countless myriads of my species 
— we are an insular nation. Further, our commerce is largely 
dependent on our merchandise. It was not till I had realised to the 
full these two momentous and crucial facts that I arrived at the 

conclusion which I have already imparted to you, and now venture 
to repeat— 4 Always win ! ' You bear me out, I imagine f " 

44 1 bear myself," he affably replied ; thus concluding an inter- 
view in the course of which there had been no manner of hitch except 
the usual nautical one at the moment of his ooming aboard ; and that 
was due not to the absenoe of braces, but to respect for my position 
as an Admiralty Criohton. 

There, Mr. Punch, you are welcome to make any use you will of 
a statement that contains practically and tactically the final word 
on the future of naval warfare. 

Crede, dear Sir, Yours unusually Exprrto. 

Ik pursuance of a recent correspondence in the Times x it has been 
decided to safeguard the rights and legalise the status of interviewees 
by the formation of an influential association. Mr. Punch has been 
accorded an advance proof of the prospectus. 

{Founded Oct. 24, 1894.) 
Chief Offices: Utopia. 


Operating Room and 

infirmary: Harrow 


The Mikado (Pre- 
sident); Sir Joseph 
Poeter,KCB (Vice- 
President) ; Barnab r 
Bampton Boo, Esq., 
of the Bab Ballads ; 
Borbia Bung albs 
Boo, ditto. King ; 
Mrs. Boo; Reginald 
Bunthorwe, Esq., 
Fleshly Poet- The 
Lord Bishop of Rum- 
ti-Foo; Sir Edward 
Corcoran. K.C.B.. 
Capt. R.N. ; Lord 
Mount Ararat; 
Lord Tollollerj Pooh B\h, Esq., of the Japan Society; Mdlles. 
Peep-Bo, Prrri Sing, and Yumyum, of the Savoy Theatre. 
Solicitors : Messrs. Koko & Co. Jester : Mr. Jack Point. 
Jailor and Chucker-out : Mr. Will Shad bolt. 
Objects of the Society. 

(1.) To develop the new calling of Professional Interviewee. (2.) 
To provide the newspaper-reading public with amusement. (3.) To 
supply eminent humorists and others with enjoyable, rational, 
and profitable emplovment (4.) And, incidentally, to encourage 
retiring and diffident lady interviewers. 


1. That all persons shall be eligible for membership of the Society, 
with the following exceptions :— Infants in arms ; Their Descendants 
and other Relatives within the Prohibited Degrees ; Parties who are 
balmy on the Crumpet; H. M.'s guests at Portland, Newgate, and 
Broadmoor ; Jabez ; Persons who have written a book ; Persons who 
haven't ; Mrs. Prowuna Pry j also all the pragmatic and prudun 
nonentities who have pranoed in prurient print over the unsavoury 
question lately discussed ad nauseam in the columns of ihe D. 2. 

2. That if the interview be conducted by one of the male sex, the 
Societv's chucker-out, jester, and solicitors shall always be present. 

3. That the following scale of fees, payable by the Interviewer to 
the Interviewee, be adopted :— £ s. d. 

Mere Nobody 

Nobody Else 

Mr. Wh-stl-r. over a recent Grievance 

Minister, of Cabinet Rank I 

Gaiety Girl, of the Front Rank 1 

Cabman, of anv Rank I 

Mr. Arthur Roberts, on Things in General ... 2 

Ditto, on the Empire Question 3 

Any leading Burglar, Pickpocket, or Company Promoter, 

with discount for cash 4 

Pugilist, including services of Policeman and Surgeon . 5 

G. 0. M., if you can get at him 10 10 

Eminent Humorist, when irritated 2 10 

Ditto, if a Lady, and pretty (these are scarce) . . . 50 
Anybody who hasn't yet been Interviewed (these are 

scaler) . 100 

4. That the Society be immediately dissolved, in view of pending 
litigation. Digitized by VjOOV LC _^ 

November 10, 1894.] 




Maxim—" Exsp it up ! " 


I.— Fons et Orioo Mali. 

8ituglt nestling in a oosy corner of Blank - 
shire — that county which at different times 
and places has travelled all oyer England— 
our Tillage pursues the even tenor of its way. 
To be accurate, I should say did pursue, 
before the events that have recently hap- 
pened — events in which it would be absurd 
modesty not to confess I have played a pro- 
minent part. Now we are as full of excite- 
ment as aforetime we were given over to 

monotony. Nou$ awns No ! J*ai 

changi tout $ela. 

It came about in this way. I have always 
till the 25th of September (a chronicler should 
always be up to dates) been entirely free from 
any ambition to excel in public. After a 
successful life I have settled down with my 
wife and family to the repose of a truly rural 
existence. *' i ou should come down and live 
in the country,'' I am never tired of telling 
my friends. " Good air, beautiful milk, and, 
best of all, fresh eggs." I don't know why, 
but you are always expected to praise the 
country eggs. So I always make a point of 
doing it. 

Up to September the 25th, accordingly, I 
extolled the eggs of the country and lived 
my simple, unpretending life. On that day 
I read an article in the paper on the Parish 
Councils Act. I read that now for the first 
time the people in the villages would taste 
the sweets of local self-government. The 
change from fresh eggs struck my fancy, up 
to that time singularly dormant. I read on, 
dashing all unknowing to my fate. **It is 
the duty," I saw, " of every man of educa- 
tion, experience, and leisure in the village 
who has the welfare of his country at heart 
to study the Act, and to make it his business 
that his fellow-parishioners shall know what 
the Act does, and how the greatest advan- 

tage can be obtained from its working." 
Then my evil genius prompted me to under- 
take the task myself. 1 was educated— did 
I not get a poll degree at Cambridge, ap- 
proved even by Mr. Oh axles Whibley as a 
test of culture f I had experien