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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/13994-0.txt b/13994-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..2b5d06e --- /dev/null +++ b/13994-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,1285 @@ +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 13994 *** + +PUNCH, + +OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. + +VOL. 101. + + + +October 10, 1891. + + + + +[Illustration: THE CYCLIST CENTAUR OF THE FUTURE. + +THE DREAM OF A (PNEUMATIC) TYRO.] + + * * * * * + +ATROPOS AND THE ANTHROPOIDS. + +(_A DIRGE AT THE ZOO._) + + ["The Anthropoid apes, of which there was recently such a + representative series in the Zoo, have dwindled sadly in + numbers this year. The lamented decease of 'Sally' was + referred to a few weeks ago; we have now to record the death + of 'George,' the Orang-Outang."--_Daily News_.] + + Late for the Chimpanzee the requiem rang, + Now the bell tolls for the Orang-Outang. + Well may spasmodic sobs choke childhood's gorge, + Now they who sighed for "Sally" grieve for "George." + A "wilderness of monkeys" can't console, + For Anthropoids defunct. Of Apedom's whole, + One little Chimpanzee, one Gibbon small, + (Who ought to write his race's "Rise and Fall,") + Alone remain to cheer the tearful Zoo, + And mitigate lone boyhood's loud bohoo! + "Sally" adieu! to "George" a long farewell! + Ah! muffle if you please their passing bell! + Only one thought can cheer us in the least; + "No doubt the stock will shortly be increased." + Thanks, _Daily News_! Wipe, childhood, the wet eye, + And Apedom for dead kin soften the Simian sigh! + + * * * * * + +CHARITY'S WORD OF COMMAND.--"Present alms!" + + * * * * * + +OYSTERS (NOT) FOR EVER! + +[Illustration: A Native Hoister.] + + He was a gentle Fishmonger, and WILLIAMSON his name, + No doubt you may have heard before his philanthropic game. + The lack of oysters pained him much, for how could people royster + And happy be in r-less months without the luscious oyster? + + A look of pain was in his face, a pucker on his brow, + Long time he pondered very hard to try and find out how. + At last he cried, "Eureka! from France I'll go and bring them, + And into beds I've got at home without a murmur fling them." + + Then they came across the Channel, and he very sweetly said, + "So glad to see you looking well, would you like to see your bed? + For there, my little dears, you stay; you'll one day know the reason. + I'll rouse you when the month of May makes natives out of season." + + The Fishmongers, the Worshipful, sent down a man to see, + He wrung his hands and shook his head, and said, "Oh, miseree! + It pains me very deeply, and it drives me to distraction, + You've done what's wrong, and I shall have to institute an action." + + Then WILLIAMSON, he sobbed aloud, and shed a bitter tear, + "Oh, hang it all," he cried, "why _must_ you come and interfere? + I quite admit, however, that I see your point precisely, + So don't let's quarrel, let's be friends, and bring the action nicely." + + They brought that friendly action, and the clever counsel tried + To prove to FAUDELL PHILLIPS that the law was on his side. + But the oyster-dealer found the law for him was one too many, + So he had to pay the piper--to be quite exact, a penny. + + And you who love your oyster in the latter end of May, + In June, July, and August, too, will sadly rue the day, + For philanthropic folk will find it unremunerative + To introduce in summer-time this Franco-English native.[1] + +[Footnote 1: Oysters are to be six shillings a dozen this winter!! How +many of the ordinarily careless will now be compelled to go by RULES +without going in for Oysters. N.B.--"Action" in these verses is poetic +license for "summons."] + + * * * * * + +"SAVE ME FROM MY FRIENDS!" + + SCENE--_A Place of Meeting. Enter Parliamentary Leader and + his Subordinate. They greet one another effusively._ + +_Leader_ (_cordially_). And now, my dear fellow, how are my interests? + +_Sub._ (_with much heartiness_). Getting on capitally! Just been +writing to all the papers to say that it is stupid to call you "Old +Dot-and-go-one," because it is inapplicable to either your age or your +mode of controversy. + +_Lead._ (_with a feeble smile_). That _was_ kind of you! But who had +said it? + +_Sub._ (_airily_). Oh, someone of about fourth-rate importance! and it +had been quite forgotten you know. So I dragged it up again, and put +it all right for you. + +_Lead._ (_shaking hands_). Thanks, so very much. But if persons had +forgotten it, why revert to it? + +_Sub._ Oh, don't you see? Why, the point is, you are not a bit like +it-not a scrap like it! Next week I shall write and say that +it's rubbish to call you a turncoat, because you have always been +consistent. + +_Lead._ (_anxiously_). But _is_ anybody calling me a turncoat? + +_Sub._ Not that I know of, but they might, don't you see. So it's as +well to be on the safe side. I shall say that, if any one _did_ call +you a turncoat, that the speaker would prove himself a liar! That +ought to give you a leg up, oughtn't it? + +_Lead._ (_with some hesitation_). My dear friend, you are _most_ kind; +but if you don't mind, I would be so immensely obliged if you would +leave my interests alone. + +_Sub._ (_with great cordiality_). What, leave your interests alone! +Never! You may be always sure of _my_ hearty support! + +_Lead._ (_earnestly_). But as a personal matter, I must beg of you +kindly to leave me alone. + +_Sub._ (_reluctantly_). Well, of course, if you make it a personal +matter, I must consent. But the Party will suffer. + +_Lead._ (_dryly_). Possibly--from your point of view. [_Exeunt._ + + * * * * * + +JAWFUL NEWS!--_The Diminution of the Jaw in the Civilised Races_ is +the title of a pamphlet by Mr. F. HOWARD COLLINS. We haven't read +it; but if it be in favour of the diminution of "jaw," we heartily +recommend its study to all Members of Parliament, actual or intending, +and to all post-prandial speechmakers generally. + + * * * * * + +[Illustration: BUMBLEDOM'S BIG OPENING. + +_Bumble_. "DON'T BOTHER ME ABOUT YOUR DRAINAGE AND SICH! WHY, NOW +THE SWELLS IS 'OOKIN' IT, I'M A-GOING TO BE CHAIRMAN OF THE COUNTY +COUNCIL!"] + +_Bumble (after reading Dr. T. Orme Duffield's Report to the Vestry +of Kensington on the health and sanitary condition of the district), +loquitur_:-- + + Oh bother this sanit'ry bosh! Always piping the same dull old strains, + One would think there wos nothink in life to be done but go sniffing the + Drains! + Wich my nose is a dalicot one, and I don't like the job, not by lumps; + And I _won't_ be perpetual poked up by these peeping and prying old pumps. + "Bumbledom and Disease!" I like that,--like the _Times_' dashed himperence, + I think. + We porochial pots is to pass all our time a-prospecting for Stink! + Doctor DUDFIELD thinks WE should inspeck, periodical, all privit dwellings, + Discover and show up defecks, sech as fumings and leakings, and smellings, + As "lurk unsuspected about," which the tenants theirselves do not twig, + And the landlords, in course, don't remove. Well, your tenant is mostly a + pig, + And your landlord is sometimes a 'og; still between 'em _we_ jest slip + along, + But do dooty for both of 'em? Snakes! that is coming it slightly _too_ + strong. + The tenants 'old on jest as long as they can, and the landlords 'old orf. + A sort of a ketchy sore-throat, or a bit of a qualm or a korf, + Make some idjots go fair orf their chumps on diphtheria, and typhod and + such; + But then others, who don't like a hupset, put up with the lot, pooty much, + Jest to save topsy-turvey and 'oles in the garden, and mud on the stairs; + Landlords, likeways, is dabs at postponing, and patching, and 'ushing up + scares. + But if _we_ are to spot wot goes quisby, and be the responsible chaps, + Wheugh! we _should_ 'ave a regular beanfeast with sockets and air-pipes + and traps! + No, no, westry worrying sneaks, it won't work. As for "W.B.E." + He may frighten the Kensington lot, he won't 'ave no effeck upon Me! + Diphtheria be jolly well dashed! It is often, as DUDFIELD explains, + Mere "follicular(--hem!--) tonsillitis." _Me_ bother my 'ed about Drains? + Go to! I 'ave got other fish, in a manner of speaking, to fry, + That L.C.C. gave itself airs and declared it would wipe my old heye + With its bloomin' Big Pots and "Progressives." Aha! where the doose are + they now? + Mister ROSEBERY resigned, regular sick of bad manners and endless bow-wow; + Now LIBBOCK and FARRER are orf. FARRER gave the _Times_ one in the eye, + 'Cos it seemed for to 'int even he of them precious Progressives wos shy. + Swears their manners is quite up to dick, most consid'rit, and all that + there stuff. + Well they may 'ave been Brummels of course, but _he seems to 'ave 'ad + quite enough!_ + 'Owsomever, wotever the cause, now they're quit of the Great Toffy Three, + They must 'ave a new Chairman, in course, and--ha! ha!--_wot_ a hopening + for Me!! + Porochial Bumble _must_ rule, spite of fads, in a steady and sane age, + And 'aving a heye on High Orfice _I_ can't waste _my_ time on mere + Drainage! + + [_Kicks Report, and strikes an attitude._ + + * * * * * + +[Illustration: TRUE LITERARY EXCLUSIVENESS. + +"DON'T YOU ADMIRE ROBERT BROWNING AS A POET, MR. FITZSNOOK?" + +"I USED TO, ONCE; BUT _EVERYBODY_ ADMIRES HIM NOW, DON'TCHERKNOW--SO +I'VE HAD TO GIVE HIM UP!"] + + * * * * * + +HIDE AND SEEK. + + Ah! Pirate KID's Treasure _has_ done good we know, + It suggested a rattling good story to POE. + But the "Syndicate" started to seek where 'tis hid, + Will probably find that same Treasure--"_all_ KID!" + + * * * * * + +TEA IN TEN MINUTES. + +(A SONG AT A RAILWAY STATION.) + +AIR--_"THEE, THEE, ONLY THEE."_ + +[Illustration] + + Ten minutes here! The sun is sinking + And longingly we've long been thinking, + Of Tea, Tea, fragrant Tea! + + The marble slabs we gather round, + They're long in bringing what is wanted. + The china cup with draught embrown'd + Our thirsty souls are wholly haunted + By Tea, Tea, fragrant Tea! + + Now then, you waiter, stir, awaken! + Time's up. I'll hardly save my bacon. + Tea, Tea, bring that Tea! + + At last! The infusion's rayther dark. + But hurry up! Can't stay for ever! + One swig! Br-r-r-r! Hang the cunning shark! + Will't never cool? Nay, never, never! + Tea, Tea, scalding Tea! + + More milk; don't be an hour in bringing! + Heavens! That horrid bell is ringing! + "Take your seats, please!" Can't _touch_ the Tea! + Cup to the carriage must not take; + Crockery may be lost, or broken; + Refreshment sharks are wide awake. + But--many a naughty word is spoken + O'er Tea, Tea, scalding Tea! + + * * * * * + +NOTHING NEW.--The Editor of the _Gentlewoman_ announces a forthcoming +novel to be written by about a dozen or more novelists. _Mr. Punch_ +highly commends this spirited enterprise. The scheme is not absolutely +a novelty, as in _Mr. Punch's_ pages some time ago, was there not +a "Limited Novel Co." of Authors and Artists to produce "Chikkin +Hazard?" They combined, but did not collaborate. But any way, success +to the _Gentlewoman_! + + * * * * * + +"WHERE IS DAT BARTY NOW?"--After the recent suicide of _le pauvre +Général_, the Boulangist party cannot be said to have been left +without leaders, at all events, in England, as they have had leaders +in all the papers, and actually two in the _Times_. + + * * * * * + +THE TRAVELLING COMPANIONS. + +NO. X. + + SCENE--_A flight of steps by the lake in the grounds of the + Insel Hotel, Constance. Time, late afternoon. A small boat, + containing three persons, is just visible far out on the + glassy grey-green water. BOB PRENDERGAST and PODBUBY are + perched side by side on a parapet, smoking disconsolately._ + +_Podbury._ Do they look at all as if they meant to come in? I tell you +what, BOB, vote we row out to them and tell them they'll be late for +_table d'hôte_. Eh? [_He knocks out his pipe._ + +_Prendergast_ (_phlegmatically_). Only be late for it ourselves if we +do. They'll come in when they want to. + +_Podb._ It's not safe for your sister,--I'm hanged if it is--going +out in a boat with a duffer like CULCHARD! He'll upset her as sure as +eggs. + +_Prend._ (_with fraternal serenity_). With pin-oars? Couldn't if he +tried! And they've a man with them, too. The less I see of that chap +CULCHARD the better. I did hope we'd choked him off at Nuremberg. I +hate the sight of his supercilious old mug! + +_Podb._ You can't hate it more than I do--but what can I do? +(_Pathetically._) I've tried rotting him, but somehow he always +manages to get the best of it in the end. I never saw such a beggar to +hang on! + +[Illustration: "Gets up and quits the room with dignity."] + +_Prend._ What on earth made you ask him to come on here, after he +declared he wouldn't? + +_Podb._ I! _I_ ask him? He settled it all with your sister. How could +_I_ help it? + +_Prend._ I'd do _something_. Why can't you tell him right out he ain't +wanted? _I_ would--like a shot! + +_Podb._ It's not so easy to tell him as you think. We haven't been +on speaking terms these three days. And, after all (_feebly_) we're +supposed to be travelling together, don't you know! _You_ might drop +him a hint now. + +_Prend._ Don't see how I can very well--not on my own hook. Might lead +to ructions with HYPATIA, too. + +_Podb._ (_anxiously_). BOB, you--you don't think your sister +really--eh? + +_Prend._ HYPATIA's a rum girl--always was. She certainly don't seem to +object to your friend CULCHARD. What the dickens she can see in him, +I don't know!--but it's no use my putting _my_ oar in. She'd only jump +on _me_, y'know! + +_Podb._ (_rising_). Then I _must_. If that's what he's really after, +I think I can stop his little game. I'll try, at any rate. It's a long +worm that has no turning, and I've had about enough of it. The first +chance I get. I'll go for him. + +_Prend._ Good luck to you, old chap. There, they're coming in now. +We'd better go in and change, eh? We've none too much time. + + [_They go in._ + + _In the Lese-zimmer, a small gaslit room, with glazed doors + opening upon the Musik-saal. Around a table piled with German + and English periodicals, a mild Curate, the Wife of the English + Chaplain, and two Old Maids are seated, reading and conversing. + CULCHARD is on a central ottoman, conscientiously deciphering + the jokes in "Fliegende Blätter." PODBURY is at the bookcase, + turning over odd TAUCHNITZ volumes._ + +_The Chaplain's Wife_ (_to the Curate, a new arrival_). Oh, you will +_very_ soon get into all our little ways. The hours here are _most_ +convenient--breakfast (_table d'hôte_) with choice of eggs or fish and +coffee--really _admirable_ coffee--from eight to nine; midday dinner +at one. Supper at nine. Then, if you want to write a letter, the post +for England goes out at--(_&c., &c._) And on Sundays, eleven +o'clock service (Evangelical, of _course_!) at the--(_&c., &c._) My +husband--(_&c., &c._) + +_First Old Maid_ (_looking up from a four days old "Telegraph"_). I +see they are still continuing that very interesting correspondence on +"Our Children's Mouths--and are they widening?" One letter attributes +it to the habit of thumb--sucking in infancy--which certainly ought to +be checked. Now I never _would_ allow any-- + +_The Chaplain's Wife_. Nor I. But corals are quite as bad. Only this +afternoon I was telling a Lady in this hotel that her little boy would +be much happier with a rubber ring. You get them at a shop in the +Hoch-strasse I can take you to it at any time, or if you like to +mention my name--(_&c., &c._) + +_Second O.M._ One correspondent thought the practice of eating soup +with table-spoons tended to enlarge the mouth. I really believe there +may be something in it. [_A pause._ + +_The Curate_. The weather we have been having seems to have materially +affected the harvest prospects at home; they say there will be little +or no fodder for the cattle this year. I saw somewhere--I forget where +it was exactly--a suggestion to feed cows on chickweed. + +_Podb._ (_at the bookcase_). Capital thing for them too, Sir. Know a +man who never gives his cattle anything else. + +_The Curate_. Oh, really? And does he find the experiment answer? + +_Podb._ They take to it like birds. And--curious thing--after he'd +tried it a month, all the cows turned yellow and went about chirping +and twittering and hopping. Fact, I assure you! + +_The Curate_. Dear me--I should scarcely have-- + + [_He gradually comes to the conclusion that he is being + trifled with, and after a few moments of uncomfortable + silence, gets up and quits the room with dignity._ + +_Podb._ (_to himself_). _One_ of 'em gone! Now if I can only clear +these old tabbies out, I can tackle CULCHARD. (_Aloud, to Chaplain's +Wife._) You don't happen to know if there's a good doctor here, I +suppose? A lady was saying in the Musik-saal--the lady with the three +daughters who came this afternoon--that she was afraid they were in +for bad feverish colds or something, and asking who there was to call +in. + +_The C.'s W._ Oh, I've no belief in foreign doctors. I always find a +few drops of aconite or pulsatilla,--I have my homoeopathic case with +me now. Perhaps, if I went and had a talk with her I could--[_She goes +out energetically._ + +_Podb._ Another gone! (_To the Old Maids._) So you ain't going down +to the Cloisters to-night? I'm told there's to be some fun +there--Hide-and-seek, or something--first-rate place for it, +especially now the moon's up! + +_First Old Maid_. Nobody told _us_ a word about it. Hide-and-seek--and +in those quaint old Cloisters too--It sounds delightful! What do you +say, TABITHA. Shall we just--? Only to look _on_, you know. We needn't +_play_, unless-- + + [_The Two Old Maids withdraw in a pleased flutter. PODBURY + crosses to CULCHARD._ + +_Podb._ (_with determination_). Look here, CULCHARD, I'd just like to +know what you mean by the way you're going on. + +_Culch._ I thought we were both agreed that discussions of this kind-- + +_Podb._ It's all bosh our travelling together if we're not to have any +discussions. You've been on the sulk long enough. And I'll thank +you to inform me what you're after here, going about alone with Miss +PRENDERGAST like this, in the Museum with her all the morning, and on +the lake again this afternoon,--it won't _do_, you know! + +_Culch._ If she happens to prefer my society to yours and her +brother's, I presume you have no claim to interfere. + +_Podb._ I don't know about that. How about Miss TROTTER? + +_Culch._ If I remember rightly, you yourself were not insensible to +Miss TROTTER's--er--attractions? + +_Podb._ Perhaps not; but I am not engaged to her--you _are_. You told +me so in the train. + +_Culch._ You entirely misunderstood me. There was no definite +understanding between us--nothing of the sort or kind. In fact, it was +merely a passing caprice. Since I have had the privilege of knowing +Miss PRENDERGAST, I see clearly-- + +_Podb._ Then you mean to propose to her, eh? + +_Culch._ That is certainly my intention; have you any objection to +offer? + +_Podb._ Only that I mean to propose too. I daresay my chances are as +good as yours--even now. + +_Culch._ I doubt it, my dear fellow; however, don't let _me_ +discourage you. + +_Podb._ I don't intend to. (_The figure of Miss PRENDERGAST is seen +to pass the glazed doors, and move slowly across the Musik-saal; +both rush to the door, and look after her._) She's gone out into the +balcony. 'Jove, I'll go, too, and get it over! + +_Culch._ I should not advise you to do so. It is possible she may have +gone there with the--er--expectation of being joined by--by somebody +else. [_He smiles complacently._ + +_Podb._ You mean she gave you a _rendezvous_ there? I don't believe +it! + +_Culch._ I did not say so. But I am not prepared to deny that I have +been waiting here with some such expectation. + +_Podb._ (_holding the door_). If you go, I go too--that's all. + +_Culch._ Don't be absurd. You will only be _de trop_, I assure you. + +_Podb._ _De trop_ or not, I mean going--she shall choose between us. + +_Culch._ (_turning pale_). I suppose you intend to enlighten her as to +my--er--little flirtation (before I knew _her_) with Miss TROTTER? Do +it, PODBURY, do it--if you think you'll gain any good by it! + +_Podb._ Telling tales is not exactly in my line. But you don't go on +that balcony without me--that's all. + +_Culch._ Well, listen to reason, my dear fellow. What you propose is +ridiculous. I--I don't mind conceding this: we'll each go, and--er tit +up, as you call it, which goes first. + +_Podb._ Done with you! (_Produces a mark._) Sudden death. You're +Eagle--I'm the other Johnny. (_Tosses._) Eagle! Confound you! But I +mean to have my innings all the same. + +_Culch._ You're perfectly welcome--when I've had mine. I'll--er--wish +you good evening. + + [_He stalks out triumphantly. PODBURY places himself in a + position from which he can command a view of the Musik-saal, + over the top of "über Land und Meer," and awaits results._ + + * * * * * + +STORICULES. + +VI.--BUDWELL'S REVENGE. + +My friend, THOMAS GIDLING, is something indefinite and authoritative +in the Post Office. He is a practical man. He can do fretwork, cook a +steak, clean boots, find out what's wrong with the gas, and understand +Waterloo Station; in an emergency he is invaluable. This is just as +well, because destiny has decided that the life of THOMAS GIDLING +shall be a series of emergencies. He has comfortable bachelor +quarters at the very top of Parkington Chambers, which are situated in +Bloomsbury. + +[Illustration] + +One night last winter I had been dining with GIDLING at his Club; +after dinner he proposed that we should go round to his flat for a +talk and a smoke. GIDLING, being practical, can make coffee, which is +a thing that they cannot do at GIDLING's Club, nor, indeed, at many +others. So I consented. + +We had climbed painfully to the top of Parkington Chambers, and had +just got inside GIDLING's outer door, when we noticed a very marked +and curious smell. "There's something wrong about this," remarked +GIDLING, severely. I agreed with him, adding, out of a nervous +politeness, from which I suffer sometimes, that I rather liked the +smell, "Then you're an idiot," said GIDLING, who never suffers from +politeness at all. He opened the door of his sitting-room, and then we +saw at once what was the matter. The lower part of the chimney was on +fire; the fire-place was covered with glowing masses of soot which had +fallen. "HANKIN's had another nasty touch of that influenza," remarked +GIDLING. HANKIN is GIDLING's servant, and at regular intervals becomes +incapacitated for work. HANKIN himself says that it is influenza, and +speaks of "another of them relapses;" GIDLING thinks that it is as +a rule intoxication. As a matter of fact HANKIN would not be a bad +servant if his zeal was distributed over him rather more evenly. It +is always either excessive or defective. It comes out in lumps. In +neglecting to have the chimney swept HANKIN had shown defect; in the +way that he had piled up the fire he had shown excess. In subsequently +absenting himself from the flat he had shown a certain amount of +wisdom, for GIDLING was rather angry. + +"Not but what I can put it all right," said GIDLING. "I'm a practical +man. Fire Brigade? I thought you'd suggest a few fire brigades. No, +not exactly. I'll show you how to stop a thing of this kind." He went +into his bed-room, and returned with the water-jug. An iron ladder +from the main staircase led through a trap-door in the roof. GIDLING +went up this ladder with the water-jug, while I waited to see the +result in the sitting-room, I could hear him walking about on the +roof, and I looked out for a deluge of water to descend down the +chimney into the fire-place. But no deluge came. Presently GIDLING +descended and entered the room with the empty water-jug. + +"Did it splash much?" he asked. "No, there was no water came down at +all." + +"Oh? Then I've emptied this water-jug down the wrong chimney. We'd +better clear out of this." + +At this juncture HANKIN returned, and GIDLING said a good deal to him. +HANKIN was left to put out the fire, and we went back again to the +Club. GIDLING seemed rather annoyed with me for laughing about his +mistake. + +"It's a deuced awkward thing," he said. "That water went down +somebody's chimney, and it's put somebody's fire out. That means +unpleasantness, you know, if he or she finds out who did it." + +"Who live in the flats below yours?" I asked. + +"An Art-student and her mother in the flat below mine--they are really +most charming people, and I hope to goodness it wasn't their chimney +that I poured the water down. I'm on rather friendly terms with them. +Then on the first floor there's BUDWELL. He's a conceited affected +ape. I only hope it was he who got the benefit of that water-jug. It's +rather amusing, you know. BUDWELL's very much in love with Miss VANE +(that's the Art-student), and she loathes him--at least I believe so. +Poor beggar!" GIDLING laughed, sarcastically. "Yes, I hope that was +BUDWELL's chimney, not the other." + +It turned out afterwards that it _was_ BUDWELL's chimney, and he found +out that it was GIDLING who had done the deed. So BUDWELL determined +on revenge. He climbed up on to the roof with a large bath-can of +water, intending to empty it down GIDLING's chimney. Chimneys ought to +be labelled. The whole of the contents of that can descended into Mrs. +VANE's fireplace. BUDWELL called and apologised, but it was of no use. +They considered it mean of BUDWELL to take revenge for what was only +a mistake on GIDLING's part; and they were not very well pleased +at having their own fire put out. "A chimney's not the place for a +cataract, you know, Mr. BUDWELL," said Miss VANE. + +BUDWELL went back to his own flat and brooded over his misfortunes. He +had now grown still more angry with GIDLING, which was irrational of +him; and he determined to take a still fiercer revenge. Late at night +he conveyed the bath-can and several jugs, all full of water, on to +the roof. There was no fear of his selecting Mrs. VANE's chimney by +mistake this time. One by one he emptied the jugs and the water-can, +and then descended to his own flat, fiendishly triumphant, as he +thought of the havoc he must have made in GIDLING's fire-place. + +But when he got to his own flat, he found that he had emptied all that +water down his own chimney. + +After that he gave up his revenges, together with his affections and +his apartments. But GIDLING tells the story with considerable unction; +the facts of it were partly derived from BUDWELL's servant and partly +from Miss VANE--with whom GIDLING is beginning to be on more than +friendly terms. + + * * * * * + +INTERNATIONAL NURSERY-TALE CONGRESS. + +The Chair was taken by Mr. JOHN HORNER, P.R.I.N.T.C., lineal +descendant of the celebrated "Jack" of that ilk. + +[Illustration] + +The President said he had no desire to waste the meeting's valuable +time. He would at once address himself (and the company present) to +the myth, if myth it could be called, which had immortalised his own +name. Need he say he alluded to the legend of "Little Jack Horner"? +(_Cheers._) Some commentators are of opinion that "HORNER." was a +typographical error for "HOMER." But the prefix; and the epithet +combined to militate against this ingenious and plausible, but +specious, theory. "HOMER" was not in any sense "Little," nor was his +Pagan name "JACK." Again, "Corner," in the second line, could not +in any language have ever rhymed with "HOMER." He knew that "Cromer" +furnished them with a rhyme for "HOMER;" but if this were accepted, +what became of the ancient Greek, of the Syriac, of the Phoenician, +of the Nimrodic legends, nay, of the very _Iliad_ itself, if "HOMER" +were a native of "Cromer"? (_Loud and prolonged cheers._) No! +"Jack Horner," or, as it was originally written, "Jakorna," was +of Scandinavian origin, and it was, in all probability, a mythmic +rhyth--No, beg pardon, he should say a rhythmic myth (_Cheers_) +sung by a wandering Sam Oar Troupe on their visiting Egypt and the +Provinces before the time of the Celtic-Phoenician O'SIRIS, or at +least before the reign of RAMESES THE FIRST, ancestor of the great +Scotch RAMSEY family--(_Cheers_)--at one of the social entertainments +given on a non-hunting day by that eminent sportsman NIMROD. Then +came the question of where was "the corner" in which Jakorna secluded +himself? Of course, Christmas, as differentiating this pie from all +others, was a modern substitution. The original word was probably +"Kosmik." (_The lecture was still proceeding when our Reporter left, +the dryness of the subject having unfortunately affected his throat._) + + * * * * * + +[Illustration: A CONNOISSEUR. + +_Sir Pompey Bedell._ "THIS BOTTLE OF ROMANÉE-CONTI SEEMS RATHER +CLOUDY, BROWN! IT _OUGHT_ TO BE ALL RIGHT. I KNOW IT STANDS ME IN +_TWELVE GUINEAS A DOZEN!_" + +_The New Butler._ "THERE CERTAINLY _HIS_ SOME SEDIMENT, SIR POMPEY; +BUT IT'S OF NO CONSEQUENCE WHATEVER! I TRIED A BOTTLE OF IT _MYSELF_ +THE OTHER DAY, AND FOUND IT FIRST-RATE!"] + + * * * * * + +"WHAT WILL HE DO WITH IT?" + + ["The 'tehorni narod'--the inconceivably ill-used, patient, + long-suffering 'black people,' as the moujiks of White + Russia are grimly denominated by their rulers--are dying by + thousands, of sheer starvation, without a hand being stretched + out by the 'Tchin' to rescue them from the greedy jaws of + Death."--_Daily Telegraph_. + + The moujiks are remonstrating and even rebelling in + consequence.] + + "Little Father," we have suffered long, and sorrowed, + We the "children" of the wonderful White Tsar, + Steadfast patience from staunch loyalty have borrowed, + Slaved for Slavdom still in Peace, and died in War; + We have borne the yoke of power, and its abuses, + We have trusted cells and shackles served their turn; + Nay, that e'en the ruthless knout had noble uses; + Now we starve--and think--and burn. + + "Little Father," is your power then so paternal + As in pious proclamation is set forth? + If the round earth bears a brand of the infernal, + Does the trail of it not taint our native North? + Ay, we love it as in truth we've ever loved it. + Our devotion, poorly paid, is firm and strong; + Have our little pitied miseries not proved it, + And our weary tale of wrong? + + "Little Father," we are hungering now, neglected, + While the foreigner shouts praises in our ports; + We are honoured, say your scribes, loved, feared, respected, + The proud Frank, we fought for you, your friendship courts. + The golden price of it you hug most gladly. + Well, that price, what is its destined end and aim? + The indulgence of ambitions cherished madly? + The pursuit of warrior fame? + + Your realm is ever widening, Tsar, and lengthening, + Though its peoples--your dear children--prosper not; + Railways stretching, boundaries creeping, legions strengthening! + And the end, O Tsar, is--where?--the purpose--what? + The Afghan, Tartar, Turk feel your advancing, + The Persian and the Mongol hear your tread, + And an eager watchful eye is eastward glancing + Where the Lion lifts his head. + + And your children, "Little Father"? They are lying + In their thousands at your threshold, waiting death. + Gold you gather whilst your foodless thralls are dying! + Is appeal, oh Great White Tsar, but wasted breath? + On armaments aggressive are you spending + What might solace the "black people" midst their dead? + Of the millions the effusive Frank is lending + Is there _nothing_ left for bread? + + * * * * * + +BOUILLABAISSE. + + [There has been some correspondence lately about + Bouillabaisse, and a writer in the _Evening News_ (who + misquotes THACKERAY) actually gives a recipe without oil!] + + Our THACKERAY in ancient days, + Wrote of a very famous dish, + And said in stanzas in its praise, + 'Twas made of several kinds of fish. + A savoury stew it is indeed, + And he's "in comfortable case" + Who finds before him at his need + A smoking dish of Bouillabaisse. + + And now folks laud that dish again, + And o'er it raise a pretty coil, + While one rash man we see with pain, + Would dare to make it minus oil. + Oh! shade of TERRÉ, you no doubt + Would make once more the "droll grimace," + At such a savage, who left out + The olive oil, in Bouillabaisse. + + * * * * * + +"THOUGHT-WAVES." (_By an Un-Esoteric._)--The Theosophists talk mistily +about "the concentration of mind-force on a thought-wave"--which seems +only another way of saying that such minds are, at the time, "quite at +sea." + + * * * * * + +[Illustration: "WHAT WILL HE DO WITH IT?" + +STARVING RUSSIAN PEASANT. "IS NONE OF THAT FOR _ME_, 'LITTLE +FATHER'?"] + + * * * * * + +[Illustration: FANCY PORTRAIT. + +SIR W.V. HARCOURT, + +_THE_ "ODD FELLOW" OUT.] + + * * * * * + +MONEY MAKES THE MAN. + + (_A Fragment from a Romance dedicated by Mr. Punch to Mr. + Diggle._) + +"It is entirely your own fault," said the intruder, as he put another +silver tea-pot in his bag. + +"I don't see that at all," replied the master of the house, moving +uneasily in his chair. + +"Well, I have not time to argue with you," returned the other, as he +held up an enamelled ship of beautiful workmanship. "Dear me, this is +really very fine. I have never seen anything like it before! What is +it?" + +"I got it at a sale in Derbyshire. I fancy it must be something like +the old Battersea enamel." + +"Very fine! And solid silver, too! Well, in all my experience, and +I have been in the profession some twenty years, I have seen nothing +like it. Beautiful! Lovely!" + +"If you had not tied my hands behind my back," explained the master +of the house, "I could show you, by lifting that lid, you would see +prettier subjects in the interior of the vessel." + +"You certainly tempt me," answered the intruder, "to give you an +increased facility in moving. But it is against my rules. I always +work in a methodical manner, and one of my regulations is, before I +open the safe, I must bind the master of the house hand and foot in +an arm-chair. But what were we talking about?" + +"You were saying," returned the other, with a sigh, "that it was my +own fault that I find myself in this painful, this ruinous position. +As a man of education I cannot see how you can advance such a +proposition." + +"But that's the point. I am _not_ a man of education. I don't know +how to play the piano, and can scarcely manage a free-hand sketch of +a cathedral. My Greek is shaky, and I speak French and German with an +accent enough to drive a linguist mad. No, no, you take my word for +it--this little incident would never have happened had you behaved +wisely, and like a public-spirited citizen." + +"What do you mean?" asked the householder. + +"Why, this, that if you had paid more to the School Board, I would +have received a better education, and have never been a housebreaker. +As it is, I am only making up the difference between the sum you have +paid, and the sum you should have expended." + +And the burglar, helping himself to another silver tea-pot, continued +his lucrative work. + + * * * * * + +THE MUSIC OF THE SPHERES. + + The "true sphere of woman"--so HARRISON says-- + In effect--is the family circle. Some praise; + But to geometricians it strange may appear, + For a "circle" is only a _part_ of a "sphere." + Since woman appeared at the wickets, some think + (Though male cricketers from the conclusion may shrink), + That the true "sphere" of woman must be, after all, + A leathern one--typed by a new cricket-ball. + Young girls think a "Ball" of another guess sort + Is the sphere in which woman may find truest sport. + To harmonise all these opinions, 'tis clear, + Is hard; but, whatever be woman's true sphere, + Whether found in the dictum of "Positive" HARRISON, + And what ladies call his "degrading comparison," + Or otherwhere,--this will be certainly found, + If you'll let angry women alone they'll "come _round_." + + * * * * * + +"THE MAN FOR THE POST."--Sir JAMES FERGUSSON. + + * * * * * + +TALK FOR TRAVELLERS. + + ["The German officials at the frontier, since the relaxation + of the passport regulations, have been ordered to treat + foreign passengers with every politeness."--_Daily Papers_.] + +Mein Herr, will you do us the honour to descend from the +railway-carriage? It will be merely a matter of form. We need not +disturb those gracious ladies, your wife and daughters. + +This is the best way to the Customs. You will notice that we have +swept the path that leads to the door. + +Certainly, these arm-chairs are for the use of passengers. We have +placed them there ourselves, and can recommend them. + +Is it asking too great a favour to beg you to lend me the keys of your +boxes? A hundred thousand thanks. + +Your explanation is absolutely satisfactory. You are bringing these +sixteen unopened boxes of cigars home for your grandmother. It is a +most proper thing to do, and, under the circumstances, the duty will +be remitted. + +And these three hundred yards of lace of various makes and ages? An +heir-loom! Indeed! Then, of course, the packet must pass duty-free. + +As we have found nothing of consequence in this portmanteau of yours, +it will be unnecessary to search the nineteen boxes of that gracious +lady, your wife. No doubt she has obeyed your instruction not to +smuggle. We are absolutely satisfied with your explanations, and are +greatly obliged to you for your kindness and condescension. + +This is the way to the carriage. We have placed steps before the door, +as without a platform it is difficult to ascend. + +No, Mein Herr, it is utterly impossible! We are forbidden by the +EMPEROR himself to accept a gratuity. + +Yes, Madam, it is indeed without charge. Do not tempt us. Instant +dismissal is the penalty. + +Certainly, Mein Herr, you could get the same politeness before the +EMPEROR issued his Imperial instructions. + +But then the charge was a thaler! + + * * * * * + +THE GREAT TWIN BRETHREN. + + ["I do not wish to call Mr. GLADSTONE by a name which would + be both tasteless and pointless."--_Mr. A.V. Dicey's Letter to + the Times._] + + Tasteless and pointless, DICEY? Well, the time _is_ out of joint, + And you were born to set it right, though _not_ with "taste" and "point." + We cannot all do all things, Sir, and if you save the State + (As the great Twin Brethren mean to in despite of HARCOURT's hate), + What _does_ it matter, DICEY, if your letters are not quite + In that style epistolary, which our fathers called "polite"? + 'Tis a little too meticulous--in you--and rather late, + After giving Mr. GLADSTONE such a wholesome slashing "slate." + Take heart of grace, dear DICEY, and don't let Sir WILLIAM's "point" + In your tough (if tasteless) armour find a vulnerable joint. + "Old Timbertoes" won't trouble, Sir, to wish that _you_ were dead, + And his taste (_not_ point) forbids him to call you "Old Wooden-head!" + + * * * * * + +KEEP WATCH! + + [A Visitor fishing off Deal Pier brought up a gold watch + and chain on his hook. It is supposed to be one lost by a + resident, but the lucky angler has not been seen since.] + + Paradoxical portent! Most worthy of rhyme + Is this fortunate angler who tried to kill time. + Fate made him the offer, and, wisely, he book'd it; + He not only killed time, but he caught it,--and "hook'd it." + + * * * * * + +[Illustration: MR. PUNCH VISITS SCARBOROUGH SPA.] + + * * * * * + +BOULANGER. + + So high he floated, that he seemed to climb; + The bladder blown by chance was burst by time. + Falsely-earned fame fools bolstered at the urns; + The mob which reared the god the idol burns. + To cling one moment nigh to power's crest, + Then, earthward flung, sink to oblivion's rest + Self-sought, 'midst careless acquiescence, seems + Strange fate, e'en for a thing of schemes and dreams; + But CÆSAR's simulacrum, seen by day, + Scarce envious CASCA's self would stoop to slay, + And mounting mediocrity, once o'erthrown, + Need fear--or hope--no dagger save its own. + + * * * * * + +FROM BRIGHT TO DULL.--In an interesting article on artificial +reproductions of Nature's treasures, the _Standard_ remarked that +"Real diamonds have been turned out of the chemist's retorts." What a +brilliant chemist he must have been! Probably of Hibernian origin, as +among conversational sparklers there are few on record more brilliant +than "Irish Diamonds." Stay, though! If the real diamonds were "turned +out of the chemist's retorts," then his retorts, without these flashes +of brilliancy, must have been a trifle dull, and he is no longer the +chemist we took him for. "But," to quote our KIPLING, "that is another +story." + + * * * * * + +THE NEW EVANGEL. + + [M. ZOLA, in his new Novel, glorifies War, and the + regenerative mission of human bloodshed.] + + "ZOLA on War," intensifies the "Hola!" + Of purists who are all for "war on ZOLA!" + Well, he whose pen is touched with tints from Tophet, + Is the right man to pose as Red War's Prophet! + + * * * * * + +A TRIFLE FOR _THE BUILDER_.--"When are houses like difficulties?" And +the practical man replies, "When they have to be 'faced.'" + + * * * * * + +[Illustration: THE RULING PASSION STRONG AT DINNER. + +_Laconic Waiter_ (_thoroughly familiar with Sporting Major's taste in +Champagne_). "SEVENTY-FOUR, SIR?" + +_Sporting Major_ (_down on his luck, after a bad week at Newmarket_). +"SEVEN-TO-FOUR, SIR! DASH IT! WOULDN'T TAKE TEN TO ONE ABOUT +ANYTHING!"] + + * * * * * + +OUR BOOKING-OFFICE. + +[Illustration] + +"Respected ANDREW LANG," writes the Baron's Assistant Reader, "I have +read your criticism in _Longman's Magazine_ upon Mr. BARRY PAIN's _In +a Canadian Canoe_. It's an ugly piece of bludgeon work, I admit, but +not convincing to anyone who has read the book of which you speak. You +tear away a line or two from the context, and ask your readers to say +if _that_ is wit or humour. How your admirers would have protested +had any sacrilegious critic ventured to treat one of your own immortal +works in this manner. _Essays in Little_, a book which, by the way, +appeared in the same series for which Mr. BARRY PAIN wrote, is a +pleasant and inoffensive compilation, but even _Essays in Little_ +would have presented a sorry appearance if, let us say, ANDREW LANG +had reviewed it in this perfunctory and extractory and arbitrary +fashion. I remember that in that case the critics were respectfully +enthusiastic. Even Mr. BLUDYER would have doffed his cap, I fancy, to +one + + Who rhymes, researches and reviews, + Who sometimes writes like Genesis, + And sometimes in the _Daily News_. + +For, after all, you stand high in the journalistic world. Your opinion +passes current in many a select circle. Not even your vagaries seem to +have power to offend the worshippers to whom your word has long been +a law, whether you spoke of golf, of salmon, of folk-lore or of books. +The censure of a BLUDYER (I wonder what has brought that formidable +name to my mind) can do little to discourage you. But Mr. BARRY PAIN +is a young writer. And yet some one remarked that _In a Canadian +Canoe_ was better even than _Essays in Little_, and the audacious +words were actually printed in a journal to which ANDREW LANG is +an occasional contributor. I myself have never dared to go so far. +There is something sacred about an established reputation. And I can +honestly say that I like the elegant airy trifles which your little +Muse has bestowed upon us, though I confess to a weariness when the +talk is too much of golf-clubs and salmon rods. And I admire your +appreciation of the original work of other men. In the present case +you and I disagree upon a question of taste. That is all. _Tant pis +pour moi_, I hasten to add. But I disagree in good company, for I note +with some amusement, that the PAYN whom you rightly praise, has a kind +and encouraging word for the PAIN whom you so vehemently disparage. +And in this case I will stake my all upon the eulogy of JAMES PAYN as +against the censure of ANDREW LANG. As you did me the honour to refer +to something I had written, I thought myself bound in politeness to +reply, and am + +Your obedient servant, + +AN A.R. IN THE B. DE B.-W.'s OFFICE." + + * * * * * + +A STRAIGHT TIP TO CANADIAN "CROSS COVES." + + 'Tis nice "in a Canadian Canoe" + To practise what the ribald call "canoodling;" + But what the deuce does the Dominion do, + "In _this_ galley," with this new game of "boodling?" + "Paddle your own Canoe," dear, if you will, + But kick all "cross coves" out, and trust to honest skill. + + * * * * * + +JOURNAL OF A ROLLING STONE. + +TENTH ENTRY. + +DICK FIBBINS, my more or less "learned" instructor in practical law, +goes out to a good many evening parties, I find. Casually remarks that +he "danced three square dances, the other night, with old DAVIS's ugly +daughter, the Solor (legal slang for Solicitor), in Caraway Street." +It's DAVIS himself, not the daughter, that is the Solicitor, and, it +seems she introduced the gay FIBBINS to her Papa. Hence another brief, +a rather complicated one, on some dispute about a mortgage. + +[Illustration] + +On the morning when the case is to come into Court, DICK the +Brief-hunter, who has promised to take me there, seems nervous. Yet he +is still confident that, if "old PROSER" is the judge, he will "pull +the thing off." It will be, apparently, a case of "Pull FIBBINS, pull +PROSER." + +In Court I occupy a seat just behind him, because--as he +observes--I've been "grinding away at the case, and know the subject +down to the ground"--which I don't think _he_ does. I therefore am to +act as his reserves, also as his prompter, and to supply him with the +names of cases which he has forgotten, and which he wishes to quote. +Rather a responsible position. Should feel more confidence in result +if FIBBINS had told me of this prompter arrangement before the very +morning when the trial comes on. + +"Old PROSER," appears to my untutored gaze to be rather a dignified +occupant of the Bench. I don't know whether he cherishes any personal +or professional animosity against DICK FIBBINS, but directly the +latter opens his mouth to begin, PROSER seems inclined to jump down +it. + +"A complicated case of foreclosure?" he growls. "You needn't tell us +that. All foreclosure cases are complicated. _I_ ever saw one yet that +wasn't." + +FIBBINS goes along unimpeded for a minute or two, PROSER having thrown +himself back with an air of resigned inattention, one of the other +Judges taking furtive notes, and the third resting his elbows on his +desk, and his head on his elbows, and eyeing _me_ with a stony and +meaningless stare. Can he suddenly have gone mad? + +I have no time to consider this interesting point, as FIBBINS is again +in difficulties about some precedent that he wants to quote, but which +he has forgotten, and turns sharply round on me, saying, in a fierce +whisper-- + +"What the doose _is_ that case?" + +I look hurriedly down on the sheet of paper on which (as I fancy) I +have jotted down the authorities bearing on the subject, and reply, +also in a whisper--"_Cookson and Gedge_." + +"The Court, m'luds," FIBBINS airily proceeds, as if he were indebted +entirely to his own memory for the information, "held in _Cookson and +Gedge_ that a mortgagor who desires to foreclose--" + +"Where is the case you mention?" suddenly asks the Judge who was +staring at me a moment ago. He is now engaged in first looking at my +instructor suspiciously, and then at me, as if he thought that there +was some horrible secret between us, which he is determined to probe +to the bottom. + +"Volume Six of the _Law Reports_, m'lud." + +"Page?" snaps PROSER. + +"Page 184, m'lud. As I was saying, the Court there held that the right +to foreclose at any reasonable time is not taken away--" + +This time the interruption comes from the Judge who I thought was +going mad, but who now seems to be preternaturally and offensively +sane. + +"It would be odd," he observes, cuttingly, "if any Court _had_ decided +a point about mortgages in _Cookson versus Gedge_, because on looking +at the page to which you have referred us, find that _Cookson and +Gedge_ was _a running-down case_!" + +I glance at the paper before me in consternation; another moment, and +the horrifying fact is revealed to me that the sheet of "authorities" +I have brought with me bears, not on the mortgage case now before the +Court, but on that previous six-guinea matter on which I had given +ROGERS & Co. my valuable Opinion gratis. + +I hear DICK FIBBINS, in this trying position, with the eyes of three +Judges fixed on him, swearing at me under his breath in the most awful +manner. But why did he depend on _me_? Why didn't he get up the case +himself? + +Deprived at one blow of most of his precedents, "shorn"--as the Breach +of Promise Reports puts it--"of its usual attractions," FIBBINS's +speech becomes an impotent affair. He has to quote such cases as he +can remember, and as neither his memory nor his legal knowledge is +great, he presents them all wrongly, and prematurely sits down. I +see PROSER's wrinkled countenance illumined with an exultant smile. +Just as I am moving out of Court (FIBBINS has to "move" _in_ Court), +because I am desirous of avoiding FIBBINS's wrath,--though I feel that +this _fiasco_ is more his fault than mine,--I hear the presiding judge +(the mad one) say to the Defendant's Counsel that he need not trouble +to address them. I know what _that_ means--judgment for the Defendant! + +Chancing half-an-hour later to enter a Strand Restaurant, part of +which, I regret to say, is also a drinking-bar, I am startled at +beholding the identical form and features of FIBBINS himself. He +appears flushed--has two companions with him, to whom he is talking +excitedly. I hear the words--"idiot"--"jackass of a pupil"--"regular +sell"--and; but no, perhaps I had better not repeat all that I _did_ +hear. I decide to seek refreshment elsewhere. + +Over the subsequent scene in FIBBINS's Chambers I prefer to draw a +veil. It is sufficient to say that I was obliged to leave FIBBINS, and +thereafter received a solid half-year's instruction in the Chambers of +a learned Counsel who was not a briefless impostor. + +I heard afterwards that he had added the story to his fund of legal +dining-out anecdotes, and had considerably amplified it. It came out +in a shape which made FIBBINS a hero, myself an imbecile of a rather +malicious kind, PROSER helplessly cowering under FIBBINS's wealth of +arguments, and the other two Judges reduced to admiring silence. I +take this opportunity of stating that if anybody "cowered" in Court on +that memorable occasion, it was certainly not poor old PROSER. + + * * * * * + +THE "DISAPPOINTMENT OF DECEMBER." + + ["It is too early yet (says the _Telegraph_) to announce the + title of the latest of the Laureate's plays, but this much may + be said, that it is written partly in blank verse and partly + in prose, that it is what is known in theatrical circles as + a 'a costume play,' and that the scene is laid in England. It + may, however, interest sensitive dramatists to know that Lord + TENNYSON is liberal enough to place the stage detail wholly in + the competent hands of Mr. DALY. He does not wince if a line + is cut here and there, or protest if a scene or a speech has + to be supplied."] + +[Illustration: A cut here and there will be necessary.] + + Behold, I know not anything,-- + Except that if I write two Acts in verse, + And two in prose, I might do worse + Than having a Four Act song to sing. + + I leave the dress we know to-day; + On English ground my scene I set, + And wonder if I touch as yet, + What we have termed a "_Costume Play!_" + + If I have over-writ, and laid, + It may be here, it may be there, + The fat too thickly on,--with care + To cut it down be not afraid. + + But oh, if here and there I seem + To have half-said what I should say, + Give me the start--I'll fire away, + And keep up the poetic steam-- + + Ay! keep it up in lines that run + As glibly from the Laureate's pen, + That I shall by my fellow men + Be greeted with "That's TENNYSON!" + +In short, it will not be easy, from such scanty information as the +Noble Rhymester has as yet given to the public, to say precisely what +sort of a play this promised comedy, "half in prose, half in blank +verse," will prove itself to be; but it is to be hoped with _The +Promise of May_ still fresh in the memory of many a playgoer, that +the forthcoming effort may not, after all, turn out to merit the +unpromising title of _The Disappointment of December_. + + * * * * * + +A MYSTERIOUSLY MASONIC LINE.--"Oh, for a Lodge in some vast +wilderness!" + + * * * * * + +NOTICE.--Rejected Communications or Contributions, whether MS., +Printed Matter, Drawings, or Pictures of any description, will in no +case be returned, not even when accompanied by a Stamped and Addressed +Envelope, Cover, or Wrapper. To this rule there will be no exception. + + + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Punch, Or The London Charivari, Vol. +101. October 10, 1891, by Various + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 13994 *** diff --git a/13994-h/13994-h.htm b/13994-h/13994-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..858e597 --- /dev/null +++ b/13994-h/13994-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,1981 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Transitional//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-transitional.dtd"> + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml"> +<head> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" + content="text/html; charset=UTF-8" /> + + <title>Punch, October 10, 1891.</title> + <style type="text/css"> + /*<![CDATA[*/ + + <!-- + body {margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + p {text-align: justify;} + blockquote {text-align: justify;} + h1,h2,h3,h4,h5,h6 {text-align: center;} + pre {font-size: 0.7em;} + + hr {text-align: center; width: 50%;} + html>body hr {margin-right: 25%; margin-left: 25%; width: 50%;} + hr.full {width: 100%;} + html>body hr.full {margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 0%; width: 100%;} + hr.short {text-align: center; width: 20%;} + html>body hr.short {margin-right: 40%; margin-left: 40%; width: 20%;} + + .note, .footnote {margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-size: 0.9em;} + + span.pagenum + {position: absolute; left: 1%; right: 91%; font-size: 8pt;} + + .poem + {margin-left:10%; margin-right:10%; margin-bottom: 1em; text-align: left;} + .poem .stanza {margin: 1em 0em 1em 0em;} + .poem p {margin: 0; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + .poem p.i2 {margin-left: 1em;} + .poem p.i4 {margin-left: 2em;} + .poem p.i6 {margin-left: 3em;} + .poem p.i8 {margin-left: 4em;} + .poem p.i10 {margin-left: 5em;} + + .figure, .figcenter, .figright, .figleft + {padding: 1em; margin: 0; text-align: center; font-size: 0.8em;} + .figure img, .figcenter img, .figright img, .figleft img + {border: none;} + .figure p, .figcenter p, .figright p, .figleft p + {margin: 0; text-indent: 1em;} + .figcenter {margin: auto;} + .figright {float: right;} + .figleft {float: left;} + + p.author {text-align: right;} + --> + /*]]>*/ + </style> +</head> + +<body> +<div>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 13994 ***</div> + + <h1>PUNCH,<br /> + OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.</h1> + + <h2>Vol. 101.</h2> + <hr class="full" /> + + <h2>October 10, 1891.</h2> + <hr class="full" /> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page169" + id="page169"></a>[pg 169]</span> + + <div class="figcenter" + style="width:60%;"> + <a href="images/169-1.png"><img width="100%" + src="images/169-1.png" + alt="THE CYCLIST CENTAUR OF THE FUTURE." /></a> + + <h3>THE CYCLIST CENTAUR OF THE FUTURE.</h3>THE DREAM OF A + (PNEUMATIC) TYRO. + </div> + <hr /> + + <h3>ATROPOS AND THE ANTHROPOIDS.</h3> + + <h4>(<i>A Dirge at the Zoo.</i>)</h4> + + <blockquote class="note"> + <p>["The Anthropoid apes, of which there was recently such + a representative series in the Zoo, have dwindled sadly in + numbers this year. The lamented decease of 'Sally' was + referred to a few weeks ago; we have now to record the + death of 'George,' the Orang-Outang."—<i>Daily + News</i>.]</p> + </blockquote> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Late for the Chimpanzee the requiem rang,</p> + + <p>Now the bell tolls for the Orang-Outang.</p> + + <p>Well may spasmodic sobs choke childhood's gorge,</p> + + <p>Now they who sighed for "Sally" grieve for + "George."</p> + + <p>A "wilderness of monkeys" can't console,</p> + + <p>For Anthropoids defunct. Of Apedom's whole,</p> + + <p>One little Chimpanzee, one Gibbon small,</p> + + <p>(Who ought to write his race's "Rise and Fall,")</p> + + <p>Alone remain to cheer the tearful Zoo,</p> + + <p>And mitigate lone boyhood's loud bohoo!</p> + + <p>"Sally" adieu! to "George" a long farewell!</p> + + <p>Ah! muffle if you please their passing bell!</p> + + <p>Only one thought can cheer us in the least;</p> + + <p>"No doubt the stock will shortly be increased."</p> + + <p>Thanks, <i>Daily News</i>! Wipe, childhood, the wet + eye,</p> + + <p>And Apedom for dead kin soften the Simian sigh!</p> + </div> + </div> + <hr /> + + <p>CHARITY'S WORD OF COMMAND.—"Present alms!"</p> + <hr /> + + <h2>OYSTERS (NOT) FOR EVER!</h2> + + <div class="figright" + style="width:16%;"> + <a href="images/169-2.png"><img width="100%" + src="images/169-2.png" + alt="A Native Hoister." /></a>A Native Hoister. + </div> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>He was a gentle Fishmonger, and WILLIAMSON his + name,</p> + + <p>No doubt you may have heard before his philanthropic + game.</p> + + <p>The lack of oysters pained him much, for how could + people royster</p> + + <p>And happy be in r-less months without the luscious + oyster?</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>A look of pain was in his face, a pucker on his + brow,</p> + + <p>Long time he pondered very hard to try and find out + how.</p> + + <p>At last he cried, "Eureka! from France I'll go and + bring them,</p> + + <p>And into beds I've got at home without a murmur + fling them."</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Then they came across the Channel, and he very + sweetly said,</p> + + <p>"So glad to see you looking well, would you like to + see your bed?</p> + + <p>For there, my little dears, you stay; you'll one day + know the reason.</p> + + <p>I'll rouse you when the month of May makes natives + out of season."</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>The Fishmongers, the Worshipful, sent down a man to + see,</p> + + <p>He wrung his hands and shook his head, and said, + "Oh, miseree!</p> + + <p>It pains me very deeply, and it drives me to + distraction,</p> + + <p>You've done what's wrong, and I shall have to + institute an action."</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Then WILLIAMSON, he sobbed aloud, and shed a bitter + tear,</p> + + <p>"Oh, hang it all," he cried, "why <i>must</i> you + come and interfere?</p> + + <p>I quite admit, however, that I see your point + precisely,</p> + + <p>So don't let's quarrel, let's be friends, and bring + the action nicely."</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>They brought that friendly action, and the clever + counsel tried</p> + + <p>To prove to FAUDELL PHILLIPS that the law was on his + side.</p> + + <p>But the oyster-dealer found the law for him was one + too many,</p> + + <p>So he had to pay the piper—to be quite exact, + a penny.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>And you who love your oyster in the latter end of + May,</p> + + <p>In June, July, and August, too, will sadly rue the + day,</p> + + <p>For philanthropic folk will find it + unremunerative</p> + + <p>To introduce in summer-time this Franco-English + native.<a id="footnotetag1" + name="footnotetag1"></a><a href="#footnote1"><sup>1</sup></a></p> + </div> + </div> + + <blockquote class="footnote"> + <a id="footnote1" + name="footnote1"></a><b>Footnote 1:</b> + <a href="#footnotetag1">(return)</a> + + <p>Oysters are to be six shillings a dozen this winter!! + How many of the ordinarily careless will now be compelled + to go by RULES without going in for Oysters. + N.B.—"Action" in these verses is poetic license for + "summons."</p> + </blockquote> + <hr /> + + <h2>"SAVE ME FROM MY FRIENDS!"</h2> + + <blockquote> + <p>SCENE—<i>A Place of Meeting. Enter</i> + Parliamentary Leader <i>and his</i> Subordinate. <i>They + greet one another effusively.</i></p> + </blockquote> + + <p><i>Leader</i> (<i>cordially</i>). And now, my dear fellow, + how are my interests?</p> + + <p><i>Sub.</i> (<i>with much heartiness</i>). Getting on + capitally! Just been writing to all the papers to say that it + is stupid to call you "Old Dot-and-go-one," because it is + inapplicable to either your age or your mode of + controversy.</p> + + <p><i>Lead.</i> (<i>with a feeble smile</i>). That <i>was</i> + kind of you! But who had said it?</p> + + <p><i>Sub.</i> (<i>airily</i>). Oh, someone of about + fourth-rate importance! and it had been quite forgotten you + know. So I dragged it up again, and put it all right for + you.</p> + + <p><i>Lead.</i> (<i>shaking hands</i>). Thanks, so very much. + But if persons had forgotten it, why revert to it?</p> + + <p><i>Sub.</i> Oh, don't you see? Why, the point is, you are + not a bit like it-not a scrap like it! Next week I shall write + and say that it's rubbish to call you a turncoat, because you + have always been consistent.</p> + + <p><i>Lead.</i> (<i>anxiously</i>). But <i>is</i> anybody + calling me a turncoat?</p> + + <p><i>Sub.</i> Not that I know of, but they might, don't you + see. So it's as well to be on the safe side. I shall say that, + if any one <i>did</i> call you a turncoat, that the speaker + would prove himself a liar! That ought to give you a leg up, + oughtn't it?</p> + + <p><i>Lead.</i> (<i>with some hesitation</i>). My dear friend, + you are <i>most</i> kind; but if you don't mind, I would be so + immensely obliged if you would leave my interests alone.</p> + + <p><i>Sub.</i> (<i>with great cordiality</i>). What, leave your + interests alone! Never! You may be always sure of <i>my</i> + hearty support!</p> + + <p><i>Lead.</i> (<i>earnestly</i>). But as a personal matter, I + must beg of you kindly to leave me alone.</p> + + <p><i>Sub.</i> (<i>reluctantly</i>). Well, of course, if you + make it a personal matter, I must consent. But the Party will + suffer.</p> + + <p><i>Lead.</i> (<i>dryly</i>). Possibly—from your point + of view. [<i>Exeunt.</i></p> + <hr /> + + <p>JAWFUL NEWS!—<i>The Diminution of the Jaw in the + Civilised Races</i> is the title of a pamphlet by Mr. F. HOWARD + COLLINS. We haven't read it; but if it be in favour of the + diminution of "jaw," we heartily recommend its study to all + Members of Parliament, actual or intending, and to all + post-prandial speechmakers generally.</p> + <hr /> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page170" + id="page170"></a>[pg 170]</span> + + <div class="figcenter" + style="width:100%;"> + <a href="images/170.png"><img width="100%" + src="images/170.png" + alt="BUMBLEDOM'S BIG OPENING." /></a> + + <h3>BUMBLEDOM'S BIG OPENING.</h3><i>Bumble</i>. "DON'T + BOTHER ME ABOUT YOUR DRAINAGE AND SICH! WHY, NOW THE SWELLS + IS 'OOKIN' IT, I'M A-GOING TO BE CHAIRMAN OF THE COUNTY + COUNCIL!" + </div> + + <p><i>Bumble (after reading Dr. T. Orme Duffield's Report to + the Vestry of Kensington on the health and sanitary condition + of the district), loquitur</i>:—</p> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Oh bother this sanit'ry bosh! Always piping the same + dull old strains,</p> + + <p>One would think there wos nothink in life to be done + but go sniffing the Drains!</p> + + <p>Wich my nose is a dalicot one, and I don't like the + job, not by lumps;</p> + + <p>And I <i>won't</i> be perpetual poked up by these + peeping and prying old pumps.</p> + + <p>"Bumbledom and Disease!" I like that,—like the + <i>Times</i>' dashed himperence, I think.</p> + + <p>We porochial pots is to pass all our time + a-prospecting for + Stink!</p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page171" + id="page171"></a>[pg 171]</span> + + <p>Doctor DUDFIELD thinks WE should inspeck, + periodical, all privit dwellings,</p> + + <p>Discover and show up defecks, sech as fumings and + leakings, and smellings,</p> + + <p>As "lurk unsuspected about," which the tenants + theirselves do not twig,</p> + + <p>And the landlords, in course, don't remove. Well, + your tenant is mostly a pig,</p> + + <p>And your landlord is sometimes a 'og; still between + 'em <i>we</i> jest slip along,</p> + + <p>But do dooty for both of 'em? Snakes! that is coming + it slightly <i>too</i> strong.</p> + + <p>The tenants 'old on jest as long as they can, and + the landlords 'old orf.</p> + + <p>A sort of a ketchy sore-throat, or a bit of a qualm + or a korf,</p> + + <p>Make some idjots go fair orf their chumps on + diphtheria, and typhod and such;</p> + + <p>But then others, who don't like a hupset, put up + with the lot, pooty much,</p> + + <p>Jest to save topsy-turvey and 'oles in the garden, + and mud on the stairs;</p> + + <p>Landlords, likeways, is dabs at postponing, and + patching, and 'ushing up scares.</p> + + <p>But if <i>we</i> are to spot wot goes quisby, and be + the responsible chaps,</p> + + <p>Wheugh! we <i>should</i> 'ave a regular beanfeast + with sockets and air-pipes and traps!</p> + + <p>No, no, westry worrying sneaks, it won't work. As + for "W.B.E."</p> + + <p>He may frighten the Kensington lot, he won't 'ave no + effeck upon Me!</p> + + <p>Diphtheria be jolly well dashed! It is often, as + DUDFIELD explains,</p> + + <p>Mere "follicular(—hem!—) tonsillitis." + <i>Me</i> bother my 'ed about Drains?</p> + + <p>Go to! I 'ave got other fish, in a manner of + speaking, to fry,</p> + + <p>That L.C.C. gave itself airs and declared it would + wipe my old heye</p> + + <p>With its bloomin' Big Pots and "Progressives." Aha! + where the doose are they now?</p> + + <p>Mister ROSEBERY resigned, regular sick of bad + manners and endless bow-wow;</p> + + <p>Now LIBBOCK and FARRER are orf. FARRER gave the + <i>Times</i> one in the eye,</p> + + <p>'Cos it seemed for to 'int even he of them precious + Progressives wos shy.</p> + + <p>Swears their manners is quite up to dick, most + consid'rit, and all that there stuff.</p> + + <p>Well they may 'ave been Brummels of course, but + <i>he seems to 'ave 'ad quite enough!</i></p> + + <p>'Owsomever, wotever the cause, now they're quit of + the Great Toffy Three,</p> + + <p>They must 'ave a new Chairman, in course, + and—ha! ha!—<i>wot</i> a hopening for + Me!!</p> + + <p>Porochial Bumble <i>must</i> rule, spite of fads, in + a steady and sane age,</p> + + <p>And 'aving a heye on High Orfice <i>I</i> can't + waste <i>my</i> time on mere Drainage!</p> + </div> + </div> + + <blockquote> + <p>[<i>Kicks Report, and strikes an attitude.</i></p> + </blockquote> + <hr /> + + <div class="figcenter" + style="width:70%;"> + <a href="images/171-1.png"><img width="100%" + src="images/171-1.png" + alt="TRUE LITERARY EXCLUSIVENESS." /></a> + + <h3>TRUE LITERARY EXCLUSIVENESS.</h3> + + <p>"DON'T YOU ADMIRE ROBERT BROWNING AS A POET, MR. + FITZSNOOK?"</p> + + <p>"I USED TO, ONCE; BUT <i>EVERYBODY</i> ADMIRES HIM NOW, + DON'TCHERKNOW—SO I'VE HAD TO GIVE HIM UP!"</p> + </div> + <hr /> + + <h3>Hide and Seek.</h3> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Ah! Pirate KID's Treasure <i>has</i> done good we + know,</p> + + <p>It suggested a rattling good story to POE.</p> + + <p>But the "Syndicate" started to seek where 'tis + hid,</p> + + <p>Will probably find that same + Treasure—"<i>all</i> KID!"</p> + </div> + </div> + <hr /> + + <h2>TEA IN TEN MINUTES.</h2> + + <h3>(A SONG AT A RAILWAY STATION.)</h3> + + <h4>Air—<i>"Thee, Thee, only Thee."</i></h4> + + <div class="figright" + style="width:35%;"> + <a href="images/171-2.png"><img width="100%" + src="images/171-2.png" + alt="Tea." /></a> + </div> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Ten minutes here! The sun is sinking</p> + + <p>And longingly we've long been thinking,</p> + + <p class="i6">Of Tea, Tea, fragrant Tea!</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>The marble slabs we gather round,</p> + + <p class="i2">They're long in bringing what is + wanted.</p> + + <p>The china cup with draught embrown'd</p> + + <p class="i2">Our thirsty souls are wholly haunted</p> + + <p class="i6">By Tea, Tea, fragrant Tea!</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Now then, you waiter, stir, awaken!</p> + + <p>Time's up. I'll hardly save my bacon.</p> + + <p class="i6">Tea, Tea, bring that Tea!</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>At last! The infusion's rayther dark.</p> + + <p class="i2">But hurry up! Can't stay for ever!</p> + + <p>One swig! Br-r-r-r! Hang the cunning shark!</p> + + <p class="i2">Will't never cool? Nay, never, never!</p> + + <p class="i6">Tea, Tea, scalding Tea!</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>More milk; don't be an hour in bringing!</p> + + <p>Heavens! That horrid bell is ringing!</p> + + <p class="i2">"Take your seats, please!" Can't + <i>touch</i> the Tea!</p> + + <p>Cup to the carriage must not take;</p> + + <p class="i2">Crockery may be lost, or broken;</p> + + <p>Refreshment sharks are wide awake.</p> + + <p class="i2">But—many a naughty word is + spoken</p> + + <p class="i6">O'er Tea, Tea, scalding Tea!</p> + </div> + </div> + <hr /> + + <p>NOTHING NEW.—The Editor of the <i>Gentlewoman</i> + announces a forthcoming novel to be written by about a dozen or + more novelists. <i>Mr. Punch</i> highly commends this spirited + enterprise. The scheme is not absolutely a novelty, as in + <i>Mr. Punch's</i> pages some time ago, was there not a + "Limited Novel Co." of Authors and Artists to produce "Chikkin + Hazard?" They combined, but did not collaborate. But any way, + success to the <i>Gentlewoman</i>!</p> + <hr /> + + <p>"WHERE IS DAT BARTY NOW?"—After the recent suicide of + <i>le pauvre Général</i>, the Boulangist party cannot be said + to have been left without leaders, at all events, in England, + as they have had leaders in all the papers, and actually two in + the <i>Times</i>.</p> + <hr /> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page172" + id="page172"></a>[pg 172]</span> + + <h2>THE TRAVELLING COMPANIONS.</h2> + + <h3>No. X.</h3> + + <blockquote> + <p>SCENE—<i>A flight of steps by the lake in the + grounds of the Insel Hotel, Constance. Time, late + afternoon. A small boat, containing three persons, is just + visible far out on the glassy grey-green water.</i> BOB + PRENDERGAST <i>and</i> PODBUBY <i>are perched side by side + on a parapet, smoking disconsolately.</i></p> + </blockquote> + + <p><i>Podbury.</i> Do they look at all as if they meant to come + in? I tell you what, BOB, vote we row out to them and tell them + they'll be late for <i>table d'hôte</i>. Eh? [<i>He knocks out + his pipe.</i></p> + + <p><i>Prendergast</i> (<i>phlegmatically</i>). Only be late for + it ourselves if we do. They'll come in when they want to.</p> + + <p><i>Podb.</i> It's not safe for your sister,—I'm hanged + if it is—going out in a boat with a duffer like CULCHARD! + He'll upset her as sure as eggs.</p> + + <p><i>Prend.</i> (<i>with fraternal serenity</i>). With + pin-oars? Couldn't if he tried! And they've a man with them, + too. The less I see of that chap CULCHARD the better. I did + hope we'd choked him off at Nuremberg. I hate the sight of his + supercilious old mug!</p> + + <p><i>Podb.</i> You can't hate it more than I do—but what + can I do? (<i>Pathetically.</i>) I've tried rotting him, but + somehow he always manages to get the best of it in the end. I + never saw such a beggar to hang on!</p> + + <div class="figright" + style="width:20%;"> + <a href="images/172.png"><img width="100%" + src="images/172.png" + alt="'Gets up and quits the room with dignity.'" /> + </a>"Gets up and quits the room with dignity." + </div> + + <p><i>Prend.</i> What on earth made you ask him to come on + here, after he declared he wouldn't?</p> + + <p><i>Podb.</i> I! <i>I</i> ask him? He settled it all with + your sister. How could <i>I</i> help it?</p> + + <p><i>Prend.</i> I'd do <i>something</i>. Why can't you tell + him right out he ain't wanted? <i>I</i> would—like a + shot!</p> + + <p><i>Podb.</i> It's not so easy to tell him as you think. We + haven't been on speaking terms these three days. And, after all + (<i>feebly</i>) we're supposed to be travelling together, don't + you know! <i>You</i> might drop him a hint now.</p> + + <p><i>Prend.</i> Don't see how I can very well—not on my + own hook. Might lead to ructions with HYPATIA, too.</p> + + <p><i>Podb.</i> (<i>anxiously</i>). BOB, you—you don't + think your sister really—eh?</p> + + <p><i>Prend.</i> HYPATIA's a rum girl—always was. She + certainly don't seem to object to your friend CULCHARD. What + the dickens she can see in him, I don't know!—but it's no + use my putting <i>my</i> oar in. She'd only jump on <i>me</i>, + y'know!</p> + + <p><i>Podb.</i> (<i>rising</i>). Then I <i>must</i>. If that's + what he's really after, I think I can stop his little game. + I'll try, at any rate. It's a long worm that has no turning, + and I've had about enough of it. The first chance I get. I'll + go for him.</p> + + <p><i>Prend.</i> Good luck to you, old chap. There, they're + coming in now. We'd better go in and change, eh? We've none too + much time.</p> + + <blockquote> + <p>[<i>They go in.</i></p> + + <p><i>In the Lese-zimmer, a small gaslit room, with glazed + doors opening upon the Musik-saal. Around a table piled with + German and English periodicals, a mild Curate, the Wife of the + English Chaplain, and two Old Maids are seated, reading and + conversing</i>. CULCHARD <i>is on a central ottoman, + conscientiously deciphering the jokes in "Fliegende + Blätter."</i> PODBURY <i>is at the bookcase, turning over + odd</i> TAUCHNITZ <i>volumes.</i></p> + </blockquote> + + <p><i>The Chaplain's Wife</i> (<i>to the</i> Curate, <i>a new + arrival</i>). Oh, you will <i>very</i> soon get into all our + little ways. The hours here are <i>most</i> + convenient—breakfast (<i>table d'hôte</i>) with choice of + eggs or fish and coffee—really <i>admirable</i> + coffee—from eight to nine; midday dinner at one. Supper + at nine. Then, if you want to write a letter, the post for + England goes out at—(<i>&c., &c.</i>) And on + Sundays, eleven o'clock service (Evangelical, of + <i>course</i>!) at the—(<i>&c., &c.</i>) My + husband—(<i>&c., &c.</i>)</p> + + <p><i>First Old Maid</i> (<i>looking up from a four days old + "Telegraph"</i>). I see they are still continuing that very + interesting correspondence on "Our Children's Mouths—and + are they widening?" One letter attributes it to the habit of + thumb—sucking in infancy—which certainly ought to + be checked. Now I never <i>would</i> allow any—</p> + + <p><i>The Chaplain's Wife</i>. Nor I. But corals are quite as + bad. Only this afternoon I was telling a Lady in this hotel + that her little boy would be much happier with a rubber ring. + You get them at a shop in the Hoch-strasse I can take you to it + at any time, or if you like to mention my + name—(<i>&c., &c.</i>)</p> + + <p><i>Second O.M.</i> One correspondent thought the practice of + eating soup with table-spoons tended to enlarge the mouth. I + really believe there may be something in it. [<i>A + pause.</i></p> + + <p><i>The Curate</i>. The weather we have been having seems to + have materially affected the harvest prospects at home; they + say there will be little or no fodder for the cattle this year. + I saw somewhere—I forget where it was exactly—a + suggestion to feed cows on chickweed.</p> + + <p><i>Podb.</i> (<i>at the bookcase</i>). Capital thing for + them too, Sir. Know a man who never gives his cattle anything + else.</p> + + <p><i>The Curate</i>. Oh, really? And does he find the + experiment answer?</p> + + <p><i>Podb.</i> They take to it like birds. And—curious + thing—after he'd tried it a month, all the cows turned + yellow and went about chirping and twittering and hopping. + Fact, I assure you!</p> + + <p><i>The Curate</i>. Dear me—I should scarcely + have—</p> + + <blockquote> + <p>[<i>He gradually comes to the conclusion that he is + being trifled with, and after a few moments of + uncomfortable silence, gets up and quits the room with + dignity.</i></p> + </blockquote> + + <p><i>Podb.</i> (<i>to himself</i>). <i>One</i> of 'em gone! + Now if I can only clear these old tabbies out, I can tackle + CULCHARD. (<i>Aloud, to</i> Chaplain's Wife.) You don't happen + to know if there's a good doctor here, I suppose? A lady was + saying in the Musik-saal—the lady with the three + daughters who came this afternoon—that she was afraid + they were in for bad feverish colds or something, and asking + who there was to call in.</p> + + <p><i>The C.'s W.</i> Oh, I've no belief in foreign doctors. I + always find a few drops of aconite or pulsatilla,—I have + my homoeopathic case with me now. Perhaps, if I went and had a + talk with her I could—[<i>She goes out + energetically.</i></p> + + <p><i>Podb.</i> Another gone! (<i>To the</i> Old Maids.) So you + ain't going down to the Cloisters to-night? I'm told there's to + be some fun there—Hide-and-seek, or + something—first-rate place for it, especially now the + moon's up!</p> + + <p><i>First Old Maid</i>. Nobody told <i>us</i> a word about + it. Hide-and-seek—and in those quaint old Cloisters + too—It sounds delightful! What do you say, TABITHA. Shall + we just—? Only to look <i>on</i>, you know. We needn't + <i>play</i>, unless—</p> + + <blockquote> + <p>[<i>The</i> Two Old Maids <i>withdraw in a pleased + flutter.</i> PODBURY <i>crosses to</i> CULCHARD.</p> + </blockquote> + + <p><i>Podb.</i> (<i>with determination</i>). Look here, + CULCHARD, I'd just like to know what you mean by the way you're + going on.</p> + + <p><i>Culch.</i> I thought we were both agreed that discussions + of this kind—</p> + + <p><i>Podb.</i> It's all bosh our travelling together if we're + not to have any discussions. You've been on the sulk long + enough. And I'll thank you to inform me what you're after here, + going about alone with Miss PRENDERGAST like this, in the + Museum with her all the morning, and on the lake again this + afternoon,—it won't <i>do</i>, you know!</p> + + <p><i>Culch.</i> If she happens to prefer my society to yours + and her brother's, I presume you have no claim to + interfere.</p> + + <p><i>Podb.</i> I don't know about that. How about Miss + TROTTER?</p> + + <p><i>Culch.</i> If I remember rightly, you yourself were not + insensible to Miss TROTTER's—er—attractions?</p> + + <p><i>Podb.</i> Perhaps not; but I am not engaged to + her—you <i>are</i>. You told me so in the train.</p> + + <p><i>Culch.</i> You entirely misunderstood me. There was no + definite understanding between us—nothing of the sort or + kind. In fact, it was merely a passing caprice. Since I have + had the privilege of knowing Miss PRENDERGAST, I see + clearly—</p> + + <p><i>Podb.</i> Then you mean to propose to her, eh?</p> + + <p><i>Culch.</i> That is certainly my intention; have you any + objection to offer?</p> + + <p><i>Podb.</i> Only that I mean to propose too. I daresay my + chances are as good as yours—even now.</p> + + <p><i>Culch.</i> I doubt it, my dear fellow; however, don't let + <i>me</i> discourage you.</p> + + <p><i>Podb.</i> I don't intend to. (<i>The figure of</i> Miss + PRENDERGAST <i>is seen to pass the glazed doors, and move + slowly across the Musik-saal; both rush to the door, and look + after her.</i>) She's gone out into the balcony. 'Jove, I'll + go, too, and get it over!</p> + + <p><i>Culch.</i> I should not advise you to do so. It is + possible she may have gone there with + the—er—expectation of being joined by—by + somebody else. [<i>He smiles complacently.</i></p> + + <p><i>Podb.</i> You mean she gave you a <i>rendezvous</i> + there? I don't believe it!</p> + + <p><i>Culch.</i> I did not say so. But I am not prepared to + deny that I have been waiting here with some such + expectation.</p> + + <p><i>Podb.</i> (<i>holding the door</i>). If you go, I go + too—that's all.</p> + + <p><i>Culch.</i> Don't be absurd. You will only be <i>de + trop</i>, I assure you.</p> + + <p><i>Podb.</i> <i>De trop</i> or not, I mean going—she + shall choose between us.</p> + + <p><i>Culch.</i> (<i>turning pale</i>). I suppose you intend to + enlighten her as to my—er—little flirtation (before + I knew <i>her</i>) with Miss TROTTER? Do it, PODBURY, do + it—if you think you'll gain any good by + it!</p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page173" + id="page173"></a>[pg 173]</span> + + <p><i>Podb.</i> Telling tales is not exactly in my line. But + you don't go on that balcony without me—that's all.</p> + + <p><i>Culch.</i> Well, listen to reason, my dear fellow. What + you propose is ridiculous. I—I don't mind conceding this: + we'll each go, and—er tit up, as you call it, which goes + first.</p> + + <p><i>Podb.</i> Done with you! (<i>Produces a mark.</i>) Sudden + death. You're Eagle—I'm the other Johnny. + (<i>Tosses.</i>) Eagle! Confound you! But I mean to have my + innings all the same.</p> + + <p><i>Culch.</i> You're perfectly welcome—when I've had + mine. I'll—er—wish you good evening.</p> + + <blockquote> + <p>[<i>He stalks out triumphantly.</i> PODBURY <i>places + himself in a position from which he can command a view of + the Musik-saal, over the top of "über Land und Meer," and + awaits results.</i></p> + </blockquote> + <hr /> + + <h2>STORICULES.</h2> + + <h3>VI.—BUDWELL'S REVENGE.</h3> + + <p>My friend, THOMAS GIDLING, is something indefinite and + authoritative in the Post Office. He is a practical man. He can + do fretwork, cook a steak, clean boots, find out what's wrong + with the gas, and understand Waterloo Station; in an emergency + he is invaluable. This is just as well, because destiny has + decided that the life of THOMAS GIDLING shall be a series of + emergencies. He has comfortable bachelor quarters at the very + top of Parkington Chambers, which are situated in + Bloomsbury.</p> + + <div class="figleft" + style="width:35%;"> + <a href="images/173-1.png"><img width="100%" + src="images/173-1.png" + alt="Budwell's Revenge." /></a> + </div> + + <p>One night last winter I had been dining with GIDLING at his + Club; after dinner he proposed that we should go round to his + flat for a talk and a smoke. GIDLING, being practical, can make + coffee, which is a thing that they cannot do at GIDLING's Club, + nor, indeed, at many others. So I consented.</p> + + <p>We had climbed painfully to the top of Parkington Chambers, + and had just got inside GIDLING's outer door, when we noticed a + very marked and curious smell. "There's something wrong about + this," remarked GIDLING, severely. I agreed with him, adding, + out of a nervous politeness, from which I suffer sometimes, + that I rather liked the smell, "Then you're an idiot," said + GIDLING, who never suffers from politeness at all. He opened + the door of his sitting-room, and then we saw at once what was + the matter. The lower part of the chimney was on fire; the + fire-place was covered with glowing masses of soot which had + fallen. "HANKIN's had another nasty touch of that influenza," + remarked GIDLING. HANKIN is GIDLING's servant, and at regular + intervals becomes incapacitated for work. HANKIN himself says + that it is influenza, and speaks of "another of them relapses;" + GIDLING thinks that it is as a rule intoxication. As a matter + of fact HANKIN would not be a bad servant if his zeal was + distributed over him rather more evenly. It is always either + excessive or defective. It comes out in lumps. In neglecting to + have the chimney swept HANKIN had shown defect; in the way that + he had piled up the fire he had shown excess. In subsequently + absenting himself from the flat he had shown a certain amount + of wisdom, for GIDLING was rather angry.</p> + + <p>"Not but what I can put it all right," said GIDLING. "I'm a + practical man. Fire Brigade? I thought you'd suggest a few fire + brigades. No, not exactly. I'll show you how to stop a thing of + this kind." He went into his bed-room, and returned with the + water-jug. An iron ladder from the main staircase led through a + trap-door in the roof. GIDLING went up this ladder with the + water-jug, while I waited to see the result in the + sitting-room, I could hear him walking about on the roof, and I + looked out for a deluge of water to descend down the chimney + into the fire-place. But no deluge came. Presently GIDLING + descended and entered the room with the empty water-jug.</p> + + <p>"Did it splash much?" he asked. "No, there was no water came + down at all."</p> + + <p>"Oh? Then I've emptied this water-jug down the wrong + chimney. We'd better clear out of this."</p> + + <p>At this juncture HANKIN returned, and GIDLING said a good + deal to him. HANKIN was left to put out the fire, and we went + back again to the Club. GIDLING seemed rather annoyed with me + for laughing about his mistake.</p> + + <p>"It's a deuced awkward thing," he said. "That water went + down somebody's chimney, and it's put somebody's fire out. That + means unpleasantness, you know, if he or she finds out who did + it."</p> + + <p>"Who live in the flats below yours?" I asked.</p> + + <p>"An Art-student and her mother in the flat below + mine—they are really most charming people, and I hope to + goodness it wasn't their chimney that I poured the water down. + I'm on rather friendly terms with them. Then on the first floor + there's BUDWELL. He's a conceited affected ape. I only hope it + was he who got the benefit of that water-jug. It's rather + amusing, you know. BUDWELL's very much in love with Miss VANE + (that's the Art-student), and she loathes him—at least I + believe so. Poor beggar!" GIDLING laughed, sarcastically. "Yes, + I hope that was BUDWELL's chimney, not the other."</p> + + <p>It turned out afterwards that it <i>was</i> BUDWELL's + chimney, and he found out that it was GIDLING who had done the + deed. So BUDWELL determined on revenge. He climbed up on to the + roof with a large bath-can of water, intending to empty it down + GIDLING's chimney. Chimneys ought to be labelled. The whole of + the contents of that can descended into Mrs. VANE's fireplace. + BUDWELL called and apologised, but it was of no use. They + considered it mean of BUDWELL to take revenge for what was only + a mistake on GIDLING's part; and they were not very well + pleased at having their own fire put out. "A chimney's not the + place for a cataract, you know, Mr. BUDWELL," said Miss + VANE.</p> + + <p>BUDWELL went back to his own flat and brooded over his + misfortunes. He had now grown still more angry with GIDLING, + which was irrational of him; and he determined to take a still + fiercer revenge. Late at night he conveyed the bath-can and + several jugs, all full of water, on to the roof. There was no + fear of his selecting Mrs. VANE's chimney by mistake this time. + One by one he emptied the jugs and the water-can, and then + descended to his own flat, fiendishly triumphant, as he thought + of the havoc he must have made in GIDLING's fire-place.</p> + + <p>But when he got to his own flat, he found that he had + emptied all that water down his own chimney.</p> + + <p>After that he gave up his revenges, together with his + affections and his apartments. But GIDLING tells the story with + considerable unction; the facts of it were partly derived from + BUDWELL's servant and partly from Miss VANE—with whom + GIDLING is beginning to be on more than friendly terms.</p> + <hr /> + + <h2>INTERNATIONAL NURSERY-TALE CONGRESS.</h2> + + <p>The Chair was taken by Mr. JOHN HORNER, P.R.I.N.T.C., lineal + descendant of the celebrated "Jack" of that ilk.</p> + + <div class="figright" + style="width:22%;"> + <a href="images/173-2.png"><img width="100%" + src="images/173-2.png" + alt="International Nursery-Tale Congress." /></a> + </div> + + <p>The President said he had no desire to waste the meeting's + valuable time. He would at once address himself (and the + company present) to the myth, if myth it could be called, which + had immortalised his own name. Need he say he alluded to the + legend of "Little Jack Horner"? (<i>Cheers.</i>) Some + commentators are of opinion that "HORNER." was a typographical + error for "HOMER." But the prefix; and the epithet combined to + militate against this ingenious and plausible, but specious, + theory. "HOMER" was not in any sense "Little," nor was his + Pagan name "JACK." Again, "Corner," in the second line, could + not in any language have ever rhymed with "HOMER." He knew that + "Cromer" furnished them with a rhyme for "HOMER;" but if this + were accepted, what became of the ancient Greek, of the Syriac, + of the Phoenician, of the Nimrodic legends, nay, of the very + <i>Iliad</i> itself, if "HOMER" were a native of "Cromer"? + (<i>Loud and prolonged cheers.</i>) No! "Jack Horner," or, as + it was originally written, "Jakorna," was of Scandinavian + origin, and it was, in all probability, a mythmic + rhyth—No, beg pardon, he should say a rhythmic myth + (<i>Cheers</i>) sung by a wandering Sam Oar Troupe on their + visiting Egypt and the Provinces before the time of the + Celtic-Phoenician O'SIRIS, or at least before the reign of + RAMESES THE FIRST, ancestor of the great Scotch RAMSEY + family—(<i>Cheers</i>)—at one of the social + entertainments given on a non-hunting day by that eminent + sportsman NIMROD. Then came the question of where was "the + corner" in which Jakorna secluded himself? Of course, + Christmas, as differentiating this pie from all others, was a + modern substitution. The original word was probably "Kosmik." + (<i>The lecture was still proceeding when our Reporter left, + the dryness of the subject having unfortunately affected his + throat.</i>)</p> + <hr /> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page174" + id="page174"></a>[pg 174]</span> + + <div class="figcenter" + style="width:100%;"> + <a href="images/174.png"><img width="100%" + src="images/174.png" + alt="A CONNOISSEUR." /></a> + + <h3>A CONNOISSEUR.</h3> + + <p><i>Sir Pompey Bedell.</i> "THIS BOTTLE OF ROMANÉE-CONTI + SEEMS RATHER CLOUDY, BROWN! IT <i>OUGHT</i> TO BE ALL + RIGHT. I KNOW IT STANDS ME IN <i>TWELVE GUINEAS A + DOZEN!</i>"</p> + + <p><i>The New Butler.</i> "THERE CERTAINLY <i>HIS</i> SOME + SEDIMENT, SIR POMPEY; BUT IT'S OF NO CONSEQUENCE WHATEVER! + I TRIED A BOTTLE OF IT <i>MYSELF</i> THE OTHER DAY, AND + FOUND IT FIRST-RATE!"</p> + </div> + <hr /> + + <h2>"WHAT WILL HE DO WITH IT?"</h2> + + <blockquote class="note"> + <p>["The 'tehorni narod'—the inconceivably ill-used, + patient, long-suffering 'black people,' as the moujiks of + White Russia are grimly denominated by their + rulers—are dying by thousands, of sheer starvation, + without a hand being stretched out by the 'Tchin' to rescue + them from the greedy jaws of Death."—<i>Daily + Telegraph</i>.</p> + + <p>The moujiks are remonstrating and even rebelling in + consequence.]</p> + </blockquote> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>"Little Father," we have suffered long, and + sorrowed,</p> + + <p class="i2">We the "children" of the wonderful White + Tsar,</p> + + <p>Steadfast patience from staunch loyalty have + borrowed,</p> + + <p class="i2">Slaved for Slavdom still in Peace, and + died in War;</p> + + <p>We have borne the yoke of power, and its abuses,</p> + + <p class="i2">We have trusted cells and shackles served + their turn;</p> + + <p>Nay, that e'en the ruthless knout had noble + uses;</p> + + <p class="i4">Now we starve—and think—and + burn.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>"Little Father," is your power then so paternal</p> + + <p class="i2">As in pious proclamation is set + forth?</p> + + <p>If the round earth bears a brand of the + infernal,</p> + + <p class="i2">Does the trail of it not taint our native + North?</p> + + <p>Ay, we love it as in truth we've ever loved it.</p> + + <p class="i2">Our devotion, poorly paid, is firm and + strong;</p> + + <p>Have our little pitied miseries not proved it,</p> + + <p class="i4">And our weary tale of wrong?</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>"Little Father," we are hungering now, + neglected,</p> + + <p class="i2">While the foreigner shouts praises in our + ports;</p> + + <p>We are honoured, say your scribes, loved, feared, + respected,</p> + + <p class="i2">The proud Frank, we fought for you, your + friendship courts.</p> + + <p>The golden price of it you hug most gladly.</p> + + <p class="i2">Well, that price, what is its destined + end and aim?</p> + + <p>The indulgence of ambitions cherished madly?</p> + + <p class="i4">The pursuit of warrior fame?</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Your realm is ever widening, Tsar, and + lengthening,</p> + + <p class="i2">Though its peoples—your dear + children—prosper not;</p> + + <p>Railways stretching, boundaries creeping, legions + strengthening!</p> + + <p class="i2">And the end, O Tsar, + is—where?—the purpose—what?</p> + + <p>The Afghan, Tartar, Turk feel your advancing,</p> + + <p class="i2">The Persian and the Mongol hear your + tread,</p> + + <p>And an eager watchful eye is eastward glancing</p> + + <p class="i4">Where the Lion lifts his head.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>And your children, "Little Father"? They are + lying</p> + + <p class="i2">In their thousands at your threshold, + waiting death.</p> + + <p>Gold you gather whilst your foodless thralls are + dying!</p> + + <p class="i2">Is appeal, oh Great White Tsar, but + wasted breath?</p> + + <p>On armaments aggressive are you spending</p> + + <p class="i2">What might solace the "black people" + midst their dead?</p> + + <p>Of the millions the effusive Frank is lending</p> + + <p class="i4">Is there <i>nothing</i> left for + bread?</p> + </div> + </div> + <hr /> + + <h3>BOUILLABAISSE.</h3> + + <blockquote class="note"> + <p>[There has been some correspondence lately about + Bouillabaisse, and a writer in the <i>Evening News</i> (who + misquotes THACKERAY) actually gives a recipe without + oil!]</p> + </blockquote> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Our THACKERAY in ancient days,</p> + + <p class="i2">Wrote of a very famous dish,</p> + + <p>And said in stanzas in its praise,</p> + + <p class="i2">'Twas made of several kinds of fish.</p> + + <p>A savoury stew it is indeed,</p> + + <p class="i2">And he's "in comfortable case"</p> + + <p>Who finds before him at his need</p> + + <p class="i2">A smoking dish of Bouillabaisse.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>And now folks laud that dish again,</p> + + <p class="i2">And o'er it raise a pretty coil,</p> + + <p>While one rash man we see with pain,</p> + + <p class="i2">Would dare to make it minus oil.</p> + + <p>Oh! shade of TERRÉ, you no doubt</p> + + <p class="i2">Would make once more the "droll + grimace,"</p> + + <p>At such a savage, who left out</p> + + <p class="i2">The olive oil, in Bouillabaisse.</p> + </div> + </div> + <hr /> + + <p>"THOUGHT-WAVES." (<i>By an Un-Esoteric.</i>)—The + Theosophists talk mistily about "the concentration of + mind-force on a thought-wave"—which seems only another + way of saying that such minds are, at the time, "quite at + sea."</p> + <hr /> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page175" + id="page175"></a>[pg 175]</span> + + <div class="figcenter" + style="width:100%;"> + <a href="images/175.png"><img width="100%" + src="images/175.png" + alt="'WHAT WILL HE DO WITH IT?'" /></a> + + <h3>"WHAT WILL HE DO WITH IT?"</h3>STARVING RUSSIAN + PEASANT. "IS NONE OF THAT FOR <i>ME</i>, 'LITTLE FATHER'?" + </div> + <hr /> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page177" + id="page177"></a>[pg 177]</span> + + <div class="figcenter" + style="width:60%;"> + <a href="images/177.png"><img width="100%" + src="images/177.png" + alt="FANCY PORTRAIT." /></a> + + <h3>FANCY PORTRAIT.</h3>SIR W.V. HARCOURT,<br /> + <i>THE</i> "ODD FELLOW" OUT. + </div> + <hr /> + + <h2>MONEY MAKES THE MAN.</h2> + + <blockquote> + <p>(<i>A Fragment from a Romance dedicated by Mr. Punch to + Mr. Diggle.</i>)</p> + </blockquote> + + <p>"It is entirely your own fault," said the intruder, as he + put another silver tea-pot in his bag.</p> + + <p>"I don't see that at all," replied the master of the house, + moving uneasily in his chair.</p> + + <p>"Well, I have not time to argue with you," returned the + other, as he held up an enamelled ship of beautiful + workmanship. "Dear me, this is really very fine. I have never + seen anything like it before! What is it?"</p> + + <p>"I got it at a sale in Derbyshire. I fancy it must be + something like the old Battersea enamel."</p> + + <p>"Very fine! And solid silver, too! Well, in all my + experience, and I have been in the profession some twenty + years, I have seen nothing like it. Beautiful! Lovely!"</p> + + <p>"If you had not tied my hands behind my back," explained the + master of the house, "I could show you, by lifting that lid, + you would see prettier subjects in the interior of the + vessel."</p> + + <p>"You certainly tempt me," answered the intruder, "to give + you an increased facility in moving. But it is against my + rules. I always work in a methodical manner, and one of my + regulations is, before I open the safe, I must bind the master + of the house hand and foot in an arm-chair. But what were we + talking about?"</p> + + <p>"You were saying," returned the other, with a sigh, "that it + was my own fault that I find myself in this painful, this + ruinous position. As a man of education I cannot see how you + can advance such a proposition."</p> + + <p>"But that's the point. I am <i>not</i> a man of education. I + don't know how to play the piano, and can scarcely manage a + free-hand sketch of a cathedral. My Greek is shaky, and I speak + French and German with an accent enough to drive a linguist + mad. No, no, you take my word for it—this little incident + would never have happened had you behaved wisely, and like a + public-spirited citizen."</p> + + <p>"What do you mean?" asked the householder.</p> + + <p>"Why, this, that if you had paid more to the School Board, I + would have received a better education, and have never been a + housebreaker. As it is, I am only making up the difference + between the sum you have paid, and the sum you should have + expended."</p> + + <p>And the burglar, helping himself to another silver tea-pot, + continued his lucrative work.</p> + <hr /> + + <h3>THE MUSIC OF THE SPHERES.</h3> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>The "true sphere of woman"—so HARRISON + says—</p> + + <p>In effect—is the family circle. Some + praise;</p> + + <p>But to geometricians it strange may appear,</p> + + <p>For a "circle" is only a <i>part</i> of a + "sphere."</p> + + <p>Since woman appeared at the wickets, some think</p> + + <p>(Though male cricketers from the conclusion may + shrink),</p> + + <p>That the true "sphere" of woman must be, after + all,</p> + + <p>A leathern one—typed by a new + cricket-ball.</p> + + <p>Young girls think a "Ball" of another guess sort</p> + + <p>Is the sphere in which woman may find truest + sport.</p> + + <p>To harmonise all these opinions, 'tis clear,</p> + + <p>Is hard; but, whatever be woman's true sphere,</p> + + <p>Whether found in the dictum of "Positive" + HARRISON,</p> + + <p>And what ladies call his "degrading comparison,"</p> + + <p>Or otherwhere,—this will be certainly + found,</p> + + <p>If you'll let angry women alone they'll "come + <i>round</i>."</p> + </div> + </div> + <hr /> + + <p>"THE MAN FOR THE POST."—Sir JAMES FERGUSSON.</p> + <hr /> + + <h2>TALK FOR TRAVELLERS.</h2> + + <blockquote class="note"> + <p>["The German officials at the frontier, since the + relaxation of the passport regulations, have been ordered + to treat foreign passengers with every + politeness."—<i>Daily Papers</i>.]</p> + </blockquote> + + <p>Mein Herr, will you do us the honour to descend from the + railway-carriage? It will be merely a matter of form. We need + not disturb those gracious ladies, your wife and daughters.</p> + + <p>This is the best way to the Customs. You will notice that we + have swept the path that leads to the door.</p> + + <p>Certainly, these arm-chairs are for the use of passengers. + We have placed them there ourselves, and can recommend + them.</p> + + <p>Is it asking too great a favour to beg you to lend me the + keys of your boxes? A hundred thousand thanks.</p> + + <p>Your explanation is absolutely satisfactory. You are + bringing these sixteen unopened boxes of cigars home for your + grandmother. It is a most proper thing to do, and, under the + circumstances, the duty will be remitted.</p> + + <p>And these three hundred yards of lace of various makes and + ages? An heir-loom! Indeed! Then, of course, the packet must + pass duty-free.</p> + + <p>As we have found nothing of consequence in this portmanteau + of yours, it will be unnecessary to search the nineteen boxes + of that gracious lady, your wife. No doubt she has obeyed your + instruction not to smuggle. We are absolutely satisfied with + your explanations, and are greatly obliged to you for your + kindness and condescension.</p> + + <p>This is the way to the carriage. We have placed steps before + the door, as without a platform it is difficult to ascend.</p> + + <p>No, Mein Herr, it is utterly impossible! We are forbidden by + the EMPEROR himself to accept a gratuity.</p> + + <p>Yes, Madam, it is indeed without charge. Do not tempt us. + Instant dismissal is the penalty.</p> + + <p>Certainly, Mein Herr, you could get the same politeness + before the EMPEROR issued his Imperial instructions.</p> + + <p>But then the charge was a thaler!</p> + <hr /> + + <h3>THE GREAT TWIN BRETHREN.</h3> + + <blockquote class="note"> + <p>["I do not wish to call Mr. GLADSTONE by a name which + would be both tasteless and pointless."—<i>Mr. A.V. + Dicey's Letter to the Times.</i>]</p> + </blockquote> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Tasteless and pointless, DICEY? Well, the time + <i>is</i> out of joint,</p> + + <p>And you were born to set it right, though <i>not</i> + with "taste" and "point."</p> + + <p>We cannot all do all things, Sir, and if you save + the State</p> + + <p>(As the great Twin Brethren mean to in despite of + HARCOURT's hate),</p> + + <p>What <i>does</i> it matter, DICEY, if your letters + are not quite</p> + + <p>In that style epistolary, which our fathers called + "polite"?</p> + + <p>'Tis a little too meticulous—in you—and + rather late,</p> + + <p>After giving Mr. GLADSTONE such a wholesome slashing + "slate."</p> + + <p>Take heart of grace, dear DICEY, and don't let Sir + WILLIAM's "point"</p> + + <p>In your tough (if tasteless) armour find a + vulnerable joint.</p> + + <p>"Old Timbertoes" won't trouble, Sir, to wish that + <i>you</i> were dead,</p> + + <p>And his taste (<i>not</i> point) forbids him to call + you "Old Wooden-head!"</p> + </div> + </div> + <hr /> + + <h3>Keep Watch!</h3> + + <blockquote class="note"> + <p>[A Visitor fishing off Deal Pier brought up a gold watch + and chain on his hook. It is supposed to be one lost by a + resident, but the lucky angler has not been seen + since.]</p> + </blockquote> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Paradoxical portent! Most worthy of rhyme</p> + + <p>Is this fortunate angler who tried to kill time.</p> + + <p>Fate made him the offer, and, wisely, he book'd + it;</p> + + <p>He not only killed time, but he caught it,—and + "hook'd it."</p> + </div> + </div> + <hr /> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page178" + id="page178"></a>[pg 178]</span> + + <div class="figcenter" + style="width:100%;"> + <a href="images/178.png"><img width="100%" + src="images/178.png" + alt="MR. PUNCH VISITS SCARBOROUGH SPA." /></a> + + <h3>MR. PUNCH VISITS SCARBOROUGH SPA.</h3> + </div> + <hr /> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page179" + id="page179"></a>[pg 179]</span> + + <h3>BOULANGER.</h3> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>So high he floated, that he seemed to climb;</p> + + <p>The bladder blown by chance was burst by time.</p> + + <p>Falsely-earned fame fools bolstered at the urns;</p> + + <p>The mob which reared the god the idol burns.</p> + + <p>To cling one moment nigh to power's crest,</p> + + <p>Then, earthward flung, sink to oblivion's rest</p> + + <p>Self-sought, 'midst careless acquiescence, seems</p> + + <p>Strange fate, e'en for a thing of schemes and + dreams;</p> + + <p>But CÆSAR's simulacrum, seen by day,</p> + + <p>Scarce envious CASCA's self would stoop to slay,</p> + + <p>And mounting mediocrity, once o'erthrown,</p> + + <p>Need fear—or hope—no dagger save its + own.</p> + </div> + </div> + <hr /> + + <p>FROM BRIGHT TO DULL.—In an interesting article on + artificial reproductions of Nature's treasures, the + <i>Standard</i> remarked that "Real diamonds have been turned + out of the chemist's retorts." What a brilliant chemist he must + have been! Probably of Hibernian origin, as among + conversational sparklers there are few on record more brilliant + than "Irish Diamonds." Stay, though! If the real diamonds were + "turned out of the chemist's retorts," then his retorts, + without these flashes of brilliancy, must have been a trifle + dull, and he is no longer the chemist we took him for. "But," + to quote our KIPLING, "that is another story."</p> + <hr /> + + <h3>The New Evangel.</h3> + + <blockquote class="note"> + <p>[M. ZOLA, in his new Novel, glorifies War, and the + regenerative mission of human bloodshed.]</p> + </blockquote> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>"ZOLA on War," intensifies the "Hola!"</p> + + <p>Of purists who are all for "war on ZOLA!"</p> + + <p>Well, he whose pen is touched with tints from + Tophet,</p> + + <p>Is the right man to pose as Red War's Prophet!</p> + </div> + </div> + <hr /> + + <p>A TRIFLE FOR <i>THE BUILDER</i>.—"When are houses like + difficulties?" And the practical man replies, "When they have + to be 'faced.'"</p> + <hr /> + + <div class="figcenter" + style="width:65%;"> + <a href="images/179-1.png"><img width="100%" + src="images/179-1.png" + alt="THE RULING PASSION STRONG AT DINNER." /></a> + + <h3>THE RULING PASSION STRONG AT DINNER.</h3> + + <p><i>Laconic Waiter</i> (<i>thoroughly familiar with + Sporting Major's taste in Champagne</i>). "SEVENTY-FOUR, + SIR?"</p> + + <p><i>Sporting Major</i> (<i>down on his luck, after a bad + week at Newmarket</i>). "SEVEN-TO-FOUR, SIR! DASH IT! + WOULDN'T TAKE TEN TO ONE ABOUT ANYTHING!"</p> + </div> + <hr /> + + <h2>OUR BOOKING-OFFICE.</h2> + + <div class="figright" + style="width:22%;"> + <a href="images/179-2.png"><img width="100%" + src="images/179-2.png" + alt="The Baron's Assistant Reader." /></a> + </div> + + <p>"Respected ANDREW LANG," writes the Baron's Assistant + Reader, "I have read your criticism in <i>Longman's + Magazine</i> upon Mr. BARRY PAIN's <i>In a Canadian Canoe</i>. + It's an ugly piece of bludgeon work, I admit, but not + convincing to anyone who has read the book of which you speak. + You tear away a line or two from the context, and ask your + readers to say if <i>that</i> is wit or humour. How your + admirers would have protested had any sacrilegious critic + ventured to treat one of your own immortal works in this + manner. <i>Essays in Little</i>, a book which, by the way, + appeared in the same series for which Mr. BARRY PAIN wrote, is + a pleasant and inoffensive compilation, but even <i>Essays in + Little</i> would have presented a sorry appearance if, let us + say, ANDREW LANG had reviewed it in this perfunctory and + extractory and arbitrary fashion. I remember that in that case + the critics were respectfully enthusiastic. Even Mr. BLUDYER + would have doffed his cap, I fancy, to one</p> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Who rhymes, researches and reviews,</p> + + <p>Who sometimes writes like Genesis,</p> + + <p>And sometimes in the <i>Daily News</i>.</p> + </div> + </div> + + <p>For, after all, you stand high in the journalistic world. + Your opinion passes current in many a select circle. Not even + your vagaries seem to have power to offend the worshippers to + whom your word has long been a law, whether you spoke of golf, + of salmon, of folk-lore or of books. The censure of a BLUDYER + (I wonder what has brought that formidable name to my mind) can + do little to discourage you. But Mr. BARRY PAIN is a young + writer. And yet some one remarked that <i>In a Canadian + Canoe</i> was better even than <i>Essays in Little</i>, and the + audacious words were actually printed in a journal to which + ANDREW LANG is an occasional contributor. I myself have never + dared to go so far. There is something sacred about an + established reputation. And I can honestly say that I like the + elegant airy trifles which your little Muse has bestowed upon + us, though I confess to a weariness when the talk is too much + of golf-clubs and salmon rods. And I admire your appreciation + of the original work of other men. In the present case you and + I disagree upon a question of taste. That is all. <i>Tant pis + pour moi</i>, I hasten to add. But I disagree in good company, + for I note with some amusement, that the PAYN whom you rightly + praise, has a kind and encouraging word for the PAIN whom you + so vehemently disparage. And in this case I will stake my all + upon the eulogy of JAMES PAYN as against the censure of ANDREW + LANG. As you did me the honour to refer to something I had + written, I thought myself bound in politeness to reply, and + am</p> + + <p class="author">Your obedient servant,</p> + + <p class="author">AN A.R. IN THE B. DE B.-W.'s OFFICE."</p> + <hr /> + + <h3>A Straight Tip to Canadian "Cross Coves."</h3> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>'Tis nice "in a Canadian Canoe"</p> + + <p class="i2">To practise what the ribald call + "canoodling;"</p> + + <p>But what the deuce does the Dominion do,</p> + + <p class="i2">"In <i>this</i> galley," with this new + game of "boodling?"</p> + + <p>"Paddle your own Canoe," dear, if you will,</p> + + <p>But kick all "cross coves" out, and trust to honest + skill.</p> + </div> + </div> + <hr /> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page180" + id="page180"></a>[pg 180]</span> + + <h2>JOURNAL OF A ROLLING STONE.</h2> + + <h3>TENTH ENTRY.</h3> + + <p>DICK FIBBINS, my more or less "learned" instructor in + practical law, goes out to a good many evening parties, I find. + Casually remarks that he "danced three square dances, the other + night, with old DAVIS's ugly daughter, the Solor (legal slang + for Solicitor), in Caraway Street." It's DAVIS himself, not the + daughter, that is the Solicitor, and, it seems she introduced + the gay FIBBINS to her Papa. Hence another brief, a rather + complicated one, on some dispute about a mortgage.</p> + + <div class="figleft" + style="width:37%;"> + <a href="images/180-1.png"><img width="100%" + src="images/180-1.png" + alt="'Old Proser.'" /></a> + </div> + + <p>On the morning when the case is to come into Court, DICK the + Brief-hunter, who has promised to take me there, seems nervous. + Yet he is still confident that, if "old PROSER" is the judge, + he will "pull the thing off." It will be, apparently, a case of + "Pull FIBBINS, pull PROSER."</p> + + <p>In Court I occupy a seat just behind him, because—as + he observes—I've been "grinding away at the case, and + know the subject down to the ground"—which I don't think + <i>he</i> does. I therefore am to act as his reserves, also as + his prompter, and to supply him with the names of cases which + he has forgotten, and which he wishes to quote. Rather a + responsible position. Should feel more confidence in result if + FIBBINS had told me of this prompter arrangement before the + very morning when the trial comes on.</p> + + <p>"Old PROSER," appears to my untutored gaze to be rather a + dignified occupant of the Bench. I don't know whether he + cherishes any personal or professional animosity against DICK + FIBBINS, but directly the latter opens his mouth to begin, + PROSER seems inclined to jump down it.</p> + + <p>"A complicated case of foreclosure?" he growls. "You needn't + tell us that. All foreclosure cases are complicated. <i>I</i> + ever saw one yet that wasn't."</p> + + <p>FIBBINS goes along unimpeded for a minute or two, PROSER + having thrown himself back with an air of resigned inattention, + one of the other Judges taking furtive notes, and the third + resting his elbows on his desk, and his head on his elbows, and + eyeing <i>me</i> with a stony and meaningless stare. Can he + suddenly have gone mad?</p> + + <p>I have no time to consider this interesting point, as + FIBBINS is again in difficulties about some precedent that he + wants to quote, but which he has forgotten, and turns sharply + round on me, saying, in a fierce whisper—</p> + + <p>"What the doose <i>is</i> that case?"</p> + + <p>I look hurriedly down on the sheet of paper on which (as I + fancy) I have jotted down the authorities bearing on the + subject, and reply, also in a whisper—"<i>Cookson and + Gedge</i>."</p> + + <p>"The Court, m'luds," FIBBINS airily proceeds, as if he were + indebted entirely to his own memory for the information, "held + in <i>Cookson and Gedge</i> that a mortgagor who desires to + foreclose—"</p> + + <p>"Where is the case you mention?" suddenly asks the Judge who + was staring at me a moment ago. He is now engaged in first + looking at my instructor suspiciously, and then at me, as if he + thought that there was some horrible secret between us, which + he is determined to probe to the bottom.</p> + + <p>"Volume Six of the <i>Law Reports</i>, m'lud."</p> + + <p>"Page?" snaps PROSER.</p> + + <p>"Page 184, m'lud. As I was saying, the Court there held that + the right to foreclose at any reasonable time is not taken + away—"</p> + + <p>This time the interruption comes from the Judge who I + thought was going mad, but who now seems to be preternaturally + and offensively sane.</p> + + <p>"It would be odd," he observes, cuttingly, "if any Court + <i>had</i> decided a point about mortgages in <i>Cookson versus + Gedge</i>, because on looking at the page to which you have + referred us, find that <i>Cookson and Gedge</i> was <i>a + running-down case</i>!"</p> + + <p>I glance at the paper before me in consternation; another + moment, and the horrifying fact is revealed to me that the + sheet of "authorities" I have brought with me bears, not on the + mortgage case now before the Court, but on that previous + six-guinea matter on which I had given ROGERS & Co. my + valuable Opinion gratis.</p> + + <p>I hear DICK FIBBINS, in this trying position, with the eyes + of three Judges fixed on him, swearing at me under his breath + in the most awful manner. But why did he depend on <i>me</i>? + Why didn't he get up the case himself?</p> + + <p>Deprived at one blow of most of his precedents, + "shorn"—as the Breach of Promise Reports puts + it—"of its usual attractions," FIBBINS's speech becomes + an impotent affair. He has to quote such cases as he can + remember, and as neither his memory nor his legal knowledge is + great, he presents them all wrongly, and prematurely sits down. + I see PROSER's wrinkled countenance illumined with an exultant + smile. Just as I am moving out of Court (FIBBINS has to "move" + <i>in</i> Court), because I am desirous of avoiding FIBBINS's + wrath,—though I feel that this <i>fiasco</i> is more his + fault than mine,—I hear the presiding judge (the mad one) + say to the Defendant's Counsel that he need not trouble to + address them. I know what <i>that</i> means—judgment for + the Defendant!</p> + + <p>Chancing half-an-hour later to enter a Strand Restaurant, + part of which, I regret to say, is also a drinking-bar, I am + startled at beholding the identical form and features of + FIBBINS himself. He appears flushed—has two companions + with him, to whom he is talking excitedly. I hear the + words—"idiot"—"jackass of a pupil"—"regular + sell"—and; but no, perhaps I had better not repeat all + that I <i>did</i> hear. I decide to seek refreshment + elsewhere.</p> + + <p>Over the subsequent scene in FIBBINS's Chambers I prefer to + draw a veil. It is sufficient to say that I was obliged to + leave FIBBINS, and thereafter received a solid half-year's + instruction in the Chambers of a learned Counsel who was not a + briefless impostor.</p> + + <p>I heard afterwards that he had added the story to his fund + of legal dining-out anecdotes, and had considerably amplified + it. It came out in a shape which made FIBBINS a hero, myself an + imbecile of a rather malicious kind, PROSER helplessly cowering + under FIBBINS's wealth of arguments, and the other two Judges + reduced to admiring silence. I take this opportunity of stating + that if anybody "cowered" in Court on that memorable occasion, + it was certainly not poor old PROSER.</p> + <hr /> + + <h2>THE "DISAPPOINTMENT OF DECEMBER."</h2> + + <blockquote class="note"> + <p>["It is too early yet (says the <i>Telegraph</i>) to + announce the title of the latest of the Laureate's plays, + but this much may be said, that it is written partly in + blank verse and partly in prose, that it is what is known + in theatrical circles as a 'a costume play,' and that the + scene is laid in England. It may, however, interest + sensitive dramatists to know that Lord TENNYSON is liberal + enough to place the stage detail wholly in the competent + hands of Mr. DALY. He does not wince if a line is cut here + and there, or protest if a scene or a speech has to be + supplied."]</p> + </blockquote> + + <div class="figright" + style="width:18%;"> + <a href="images/180-2.png"><img width="100%" + src="images/180-2.png" + alt="A cut here and there will be necessary." /></a>A + cut here and there will be necessary. + </div> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Behold, I know not anything,—</p> + + <p class="i2">Except that if I write two Acts in + verse,</p> + + <p class="i2">And two in prose, I might do worse</p> + + <p>Than having a Four Act song to sing.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>I leave the dress we know to-day;</p> + + <p class="i2">On English ground my scene I set,</p> + + <p class="i2">And wonder if I touch as yet,</p> + + <p>What we have termed a "<i>Costume Play!</i>"</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>If I have over-writ, and laid,</p> + + <p class="i2">It may be here, it may be there,</p> + + <p class="i2">The fat too thickly on,—with + care</p> + + <p>To cut it down be not afraid.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>But oh, if here and there I seem</p> + + <p class="i2">To have half-said what I should say,</p> + + <p class="i2">Give me the start—I'll fire + away,</p> + + <p>And keep up the poetic steam—</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Ay! keep it up in lines that run</p> + + <p class="i2">As glibly from the Laureate's pen,</p> + + <p class="i2">That I shall by my fellow men</p> + + <p>Be greeted with "That's TENNYSON!"</p> + </div> + </div> + + <p>In short, it will not be easy, from such scanty information + as the Noble Rhymester has as yet given to the public, to say + precisely what sort of a play this promised comedy, "half in + prose, half in blank verse," will prove itself to be; but it is + to be hoped with <i>The Promise of May</i> still fresh in the + memory of many a playgoer, that the forthcoming effort may not, + after all, turn out to merit the unpromising title of <i>The + Disappointment of December</i>.</p> + <hr /> + + <p>A MYSTERIOUSLY MASONIC LINE.—"Oh, for a Lodge in some + vast wilderness!"</p> + <hr /> + + <p>NOTICE.—Rejected Communications or Contributions, + whether MS., Printed Matter, Drawings, or Pictures of any + description, will in no case be returned, not even when + accompanied by a Stamped and Addressed Envelope, Cover, or + Wrapper. To this rule there will be no exception.</p> + <hr class="full" /> + +<div>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 13994 ***</div> +</body> +</html> diff --git a/13994-h/images/169-1.png b/13994-h/images/169-1.png Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..0892059 --- /dev/null +++ b/13994-h/images/169-1.png diff --git a/13994-h/images/169-2.png b/13994-h/images/169-2.png Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..e696f5d --- /dev/null +++ b/13994-h/images/169-2.png diff --git a/13994-h/images/170.png b/13994-h/images/170.png Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..bf32b21 --- /dev/null +++ b/13994-h/images/170.png diff --git a/13994-h/images/171-1.png b/13994-h/images/171-1.png Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..2109a0e --- /dev/null +++ b/13994-h/images/171-1.png diff --git a/13994-h/images/171-2.png b/13994-h/images/171-2.png Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..4986217 --- /dev/null +++ b/13994-h/images/171-2.png diff --git a/13994-h/images/172.png b/13994-h/images/172.png Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..6883d42 --- /dev/null +++ b/13994-h/images/172.png diff --git a/13994-h/images/173-1.png b/13994-h/images/173-1.png Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..efb293b --- /dev/null +++ b/13994-h/images/173-1.png diff --git a/13994-h/images/173-2.png b/13994-h/images/173-2.png Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..f65af17 --- /dev/null +++ b/13994-h/images/173-2.png diff --git a/13994-h/images/174.png b/13994-h/images/174.png Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..201ce1c --- /dev/null +++ b/13994-h/images/174.png diff --git a/13994-h/images/175.png b/13994-h/images/175.png Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..f186202 --- /dev/null +++ b/13994-h/images/175.png diff --git a/13994-h/images/177.png b/13994-h/images/177.png Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..4c71b80 --- /dev/null +++ b/13994-h/images/177.png diff --git a/13994-h/images/178.png b/13994-h/images/178.png Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..784f5e2 --- /dev/null +++ b/13994-h/images/178.png diff --git a/13994-h/images/179-1.png b/13994-h/images/179-1.png Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..d3e859f --- /dev/null +++ b/13994-h/images/179-1.png diff --git a/13994-h/images/179-2.png b/13994-h/images/179-2.png Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..282c3bf --- /dev/null +++ b/13994-h/images/179-2.png diff --git a/13994-h/images/180-1.png b/13994-h/images/180-1.png Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..707e7c5 --- /dev/null +++ b/13994-h/images/180-1.png diff --git a/13994-h/images/180-2.png b/13994-h/images/180-2.png Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..efc3b71 --- /dev/null +++ b/13994-h/images/180-2.png diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..a266a1c --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #13994 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/13994) diff --git a/old/13994-8.txt b/old/13994-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..2c5eb0e --- /dev/null +++ b/old/13994-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,1674 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Punch, Or The London Charivari, Vol. 101. +October 10, 1891, by Various + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Punch, Or The London Charivari, Vol. 101. October 10, 1891 + +Author: Various + +Release Date: November 9, 2004 [EBook #13994] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PUNCH *** + + + + +Produced by Malcolm Farmer, William Flis, and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team. + + + + + +PUNCH, + +OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. + +VOL. 101. + + + +October 10, 1891. + + + + +[Illustration: THE CYCLIST CENTAUR OF THE FUTURE. + +THE DREAM OF A (PNEUMATIC) TYRO.] + + * * * * * + +ATROPOS AND THE ANTHROPOIDS. + +(_A DIRGE AT THE ZOO._) + + ["The Anthropoid apes, of which there was recently such a + representative series in the Zoo, have dwindled sadly in + numbers this year. The lamented decease of 'Sally' was + referred to a few weeks ago; we have now to record the death + of 'George,' the Orang-Outang."--_Daily News_.] + + Late for the Chimpanzee the requiem rang, + Now the bell tolls for the Orang-Outang. + Well may spasmodic sobs choke childhood's gorge, + Now they who sighed for "Sally" grieve for "George." + A "wilderness of monkeys" can't console, + For Anthropoids defunct. Of Apedom's whole, + One little Chimpanzee, one Gibbon small, + (Who ought to write his race's "Rise and Fall,") + Alone remain to cheer the tearful Zoo, + And mitigate lone boyhood's loud bohoo! + "Sally" adieu! to "George" a long farewell! + Ah! muffle if you please their passing bell! + Only one thought can cheer us in the least; + "No doubt the stock will shortly be increased." + Thanks, _Daily News_! Wipe, childhood, the wet eye, + And Apedom for dead kin soften the Simian sigh! + + * * * * * + +CHARITY'S WORD OF COMMAND.--"Present alms!" + + * * * * * + +OYSTERS (NOT) FOR EVER! + +[Illustration: A Native Hoister.] + + He was a gentle Fishmonger, and WILLIAMSON his name, + No doubt you may have heard before his philanthropic game. + The lack of oysters pained him much, for how could people royster + And happy be in r-less months without the luscious oyster? + + A look of pain was in his face, a pucker on his brow, + Long time he pondered very hard to try and find out how. + At last he cried, "Eureka! from France I'll go and bring them, + And into beds I've got at home without a murmur fling them." + + Then they came across the Channel, and he very sweetly said, + "So glad to see you looking well, would you like to see your bed? + For there, my little dears, you stay; you'll one day know the reason. + I'll rouse you when the month of May makes natives out of season." + + The Fishmongers, the Worshipful, sent down a man to see, + He wrung his hands and shook his head, and said, "Oh, miseree! + It pains me very deeply, and it drives me to distraction, + You've done what's wrong, and I shall have to institute an action." + + Then WILLIAMSON, he sobbed aloud, and shed a bitter tear, + "Oh, hang it all," he cried, "why _must_ you come and interfere? + I quite admit, however, that I see your point precisely, + So don't let's quarrel, let's be friends, and bring the action nicely." + + They brought that friendly action, and the clever counsel tried + To prove to FAUDELL PHILLIPS that the law was on his side. + But the oyster-dealer found the law for him was one too many, + So he had to pay the piper--to be quite exact, a penny. + + And you who love your oyster in the latter end of May, + In June, July, and August, too, will sadly rue the day, + For philanthropic folk will find it unremunerative + To introduce in summer-time this Franco-English native.[1] + +[Footnote 1: Oysters are to be six shillings a dozen this winter!! How +many of the ordinarily careless will now be compelled to go by RULES +without going in for Oysters. N.B.--"Action" in these verses is poetic +license for "summons."] + + * * * * * + +"SAVE ME FROM MY FRIENDS!" + + SCENE--_A Place of Meeting. Enter Parliamentary Leader and + his Subordinate. They greet one another effusively._ + +_Leader_ (_cordially_). And now, my dear fellow, how are my interests? + +_Sub._ (_with much heartiness_). Getting on capitally! Just been +writing to all the papers to say that it is stupid to call you "Old +Dot-and-go-one," because it is inapplicable to either your age or your +mode of controversy. + +_Lead._ (_with a feeble smile_). That _was_ kind of you! But who had +said it? + +_Sub._ (_airily_). Oh, someone of about fourth-rate importance! and it +had been quite forgotten you know. So I dragged it up again, and put +it all right for you. + +_Lead._ (_shaking hands_). Thanks, so very much. But if persons had +forgotten it, why revert to it? + +_Sub._ Oh, don't you see? Why, the point is, you are not a bit like +it-not a scrap like it! Next week I shall write and say that +it's rubbish to call you a turncoat, because you have always been +consistent. + +_Lead._ (_anxiously_). But _is_ anybody calling me a turncoat? + +_Sub._ Not that I know of, but they might, don't you see. So it's as +well to be on the safe side. I shall say that, if any one _did_ call +you a turncoat, that the speaker would prove himself a liar! That +ought to give you a leg up, oughtn't it? + +_Lead._ (_with some hesitation_). My dear friend, you are _most_ kind; +but if you don't mind, I would be so immensely obliged if you would +leave my interests alone. + +_Sub._ (_with great cordiality_). What, leave your interests alone! +Never! You may be always sure of _my_ hearty support! + +_Lead._ (_earnestly_). But as a personal matter, I must beg of you +kindly to leave me alone. + +_Sub._ (_reluctantly_). Well, of course, if you make it a personal +matter, I must consent. But the Party will suffer. + +_Lead._ (_dryly_). Possibly--from your point of view. [_Exeunt._ + + * * * * * + +JAWFUL NEWS!--_The Diminution of the Jaw in the Civilised Races_ is +the title of a pamphlet by Mr. F. HOWARD COLLINS. We haven't read +it; but if it be in favour of the diminution of "jaw," we heartily +recommend its study to all Members of Parliament, actual or intending, +and to all post-prandial speechmakers generally. + + * * * * * + +[Illustration: BUMBLEDOM'S BIG OPENING. + +_Bumble_. "DON'T BOTHER ME ABOUT YOUR DRAINAGE AND SICH! WHY, NOW +THE SWELLS IS 'OOKIN' IT, I'M A-GOING TO BE CHAIRMAN OF THE COUNTY +COUNCIL!"] + +_Bumble (after reading Dr. T. Orme Duffield's Report to the Vestry +of Kensington on the health and sanitary condition of the district), +loquitur_:-- + + Oh bother this sanit'ry bosh! Always piping the same dull old strains, + One would think there wos nothink in life to be done but go sniffing the + Drains! + Wich my nose is a dalicot one, and I don't like the job, not by lumps; + And I _won't_ be perpetual poked up by these peeping and prying old pumps. + "Bumbledom and Disease!" I like that,--like the _Times_' dashed himperence, + I think. + We porochial pots is to pass all our time a-prospecting for Stink! + Doctor DUDFIELD thinks WE should inspeck, periodical, all privit dwellings, + Discover and show up defecks, sech as fumings and leakings, and smellings, + As "lurk unsuspected about," which the tenants theirselves do not twig, + And the landlords, in course, don't remove. Well, your tenant is mostly a + pig, + And your landlord is sometimes a 'og; still between 'em _we_ jest slip + along, + But do dooty for both of 'em? Snakes! that is coming it slightly _too_ + strong. + The tenants 'old on jest as long as they can, and the landlords 'old orf. + A sort of a ketchy sore-throat, or a bit of a qualm or a korf, + Make some idjots go fair orf their chumps on diphtheria, and typhod and + such; + But then others, who don't like a hupset, put up with the lot, pooty much, + Jest to save topsy-turvey and 'oles in the garden, and mud on the stairs; + Landlords, likeways, is dabs at postponing, and patching, and 'ushing up + scares. + But if _we_ are to spot wot goes quisby, and be the responsible chaps, + Wheugh! we _should_ 'ave a regular beanfeast with sockets and air-pipes + and traps! + No, no, westry worrying sneaks, it won't work. As for "W.B.E." + He may frighten the Kensington lot, he won't 'ave no effeck upon Me! + Diphtheria be jolly well dashed! It is often, as DUDFIELD explains, + Mere "follicular(--hem!--) tonsillitis." _Me_ bother my 'ed about Drains? + Go to! I 'ave got other fish, in a manner of speaking, to fry, + That L.C.C. gave itself airs and declared it would wipe my old heye + With its bloomin' Big Pots and "Progressives." Aha! where the doose are + they now? + Mister ROSEBERY resigned, regular sick of bad manners and endless bow-wow; + Now LIBBOCK and FARRER are orf. FARRER gave the _Times_ one in the eye, + 'Cos it seemed for to 'int even he of them precious Progressives wos shy. + Swears their manners is quite up to dick, most consid'rit, and all that + there stuff. + Well they may 'ave been Brummels of course, but _he seems to 'ave 'ad + quite enough!_ + 'Owsomever, wotever the cause, now they're quit of the Great Toffy Three, + They must 'ave a new Chairman, in course, and--ha! ha!--_wot_ a hopening + for Me!! + Porochial Bumble _must_ rule, spite of fads, in a steady and sane age, + And 'aving a heye on High Orfice _I_ can't waste _my_ time on mere + Drainage! + + [_Kicks Report, and strikes an attitude._ + + * * * * * + +[Illustration: TRUE LITERARY EXCLUSIVENESS. + +"DON'T YOU ADMIRE ROBERT BROWNING AS A POET, MR. FITZSNOOK?" + +"I USED TO, ONCE; BUT _EVERYBODY_ ADMIRES HIM NOW, DON'TCHERKNOW--SO +I'VE HAD TO GIVE HIM UP!"] + + * * * * * + +HIDE AND SEEK. + + Ah! Pirate KID's Treasure _has_ done good we know, + It suggested a rattling good story to POE. + But the "Syndicate" started to seek where 'tis hid, + Will probably find that same Treasure--"_all_ KID!" + + * * * * * + +TEA IN TEN MINUTES. + +(A SONG AT A RAILWAY STATION.) + +AIR--_"THEE, THEE, ONLY THEE."_ + +[Illustration] + + Ten minutes here! The sun is sinking + And longingly we've long been thinking, + Of Tea, Tea, fragrant Tea! + + The marble slabs we gather round, + They're long in bringing what is wanted. + The china cup with draught embrown'd + Our thirsty souls are wholly haunted + By Tea, Tea, fragrant Tea! + + Now then, you waiter, stir, awaken! + Time's up. I'll hardly save my bacon. + Tea, Tea, bring that Tea! + + At last! The infusion's rayther dark. + But hurry up! Can't stay for ever! + One swig! Br-r-r-r! Hang the cunning shark! + Will't never cool? Nay, never, never! + Tea, Tea, scalding Tea! + + More milk; don't be an hour in bringing! + Heavens! That horrid bell is ringing! + "Take your seats, please!" Can't _touch_ the Tea! + Cup to the carriage must not take; + Crockery may be lost, or broken; + Refreshment sharks are wide awake. + But--many a naughty word is spoken + O'er Tea, Tea, scalding Tea! + + * * * * * + +NOTHING NEW.--The Editor of the _Gentlewoman_ announces a forthcoming +novel to be written by about a dozen or more novelists. _Mr. Punch_ +highly commends this spirited enterprise. The scheme is not absolutely +a novelty, as in _Mr. Punch's_ pages some time ago, was there not +a "Limited Novel Co." of Authors and Artists to produce "Chikkin +Hazard?" They combined, but did not collaborate. But any way, success +to the _Gentlewoman_! + + * * * * * + +"WHERE IS DAT BARTY NOW?"--After the recent suicide of _le pauvre +Général_, the Boulangist party cannot be said to have been left +without leaders, at all events, in England, as they have had leaders +in all the papers, and actually two in the _Times_. + + * * * * * + +THE TRAVELLING COMPANIONS. + +NO. X. + + SCENE--_A flight of steps by the lake in the grounds of the + Insel Hotel, Constance. Time, late afternoon. A small boat, + containing three persons, is just visible far out on the + glassy grey-green water. BOB PRENDERGAST and PODBUBY are + perched side by side on a parapet, smoking disconsolately._ + +_Podbury._ Do they look at all as if they meant to come in? I tell you +what, BOB, vote we row out to them and tell them they'll be late for +_table d'hôte_. Eh? [_He knocks out his pipe._ + +_Prendergast_ (_phlegmatically_). Only be late for it ourselves if we +do. They'll come in when they want to. + +_Podb._ It's not safe for your sister,--I'm hanged if it is--going +out in a boat with a duffer like CULCHARD! He'll upset her as sure as +eggs. + +_Prend._ (_with fraternal serenity_). With pin-oars? Couldn't if he +tried! And they've a man with them, too. The less I see of that chap +CULCHARD the better. I did hope we'd choked him off at Nuremberg. I +hate the sight of his supercilious old mug! + +_Podb._ You can't hate it more than I do--but what can I do? +(_Pathetically._) I've tried rotting him, but somehow he always +manages to get the best of it in the end. I never saw such a beggar to +hang on! + +[Illustration: "Gets up and quits the room with dignity."] + +_Prend._ What on earth made you ask him to come on here, after he +declared he wouldn't? + +_Podb._ I! _I_ ask him? He settled it all with your sister. How could +_I_ help it? + +_Prend._ I'd do _something_. Why can't you tell him right out he ain't +wanted? _I_ would--like a shot! + +_Podb._ It's not so easy to tell him as you think. We haven't been +on speaking terms these three days. And, after all (_feebly_) we're +supposed to be travelling together, don't you know! _You_ might drop +him a hint now. + +_Prend._ Don't see how I can very well--not on my own hook. Might lead +to ructions with HYPATIA, too. + +_Podb._ (_anxiously_). BOB, you--you don't think your sister +really--eh? + +_Prend._ HYPATIA's a rum girl--always was. She certainly don't seem to +object to your friend CULCHARD. What the dickens she can see in him, +I don't know!--but it's no use my putting _my_ oar in. She'd only jump +on _me_, y'know! + +_Podb._ (_rising_). Then I _must_. If that's what he's really after, +I think I can stop his little game. I'll try, at any rate. It's a long +worm that has no turning, and I've had about enough of it. The first +chance I get. I'll go for him. + +_Prend._ Good luck to you, old chap. There, they're coming in now. +We'd better go in and change, eh? We've none too much time. + + [_They go in._ + + _In the Lese-zimmer, a small gaslit room, with glazed doors + opening upon the Musik-saal. Around a table piled with German + and English periodicals, a mild Curate, the Wife of the English + Chaplain, and two Old Maids are seated, reading and conversing. + CULCHARD is on a central ottoman, conscientiously deciphering + the jokes in "Fliegende Blätter." PODBURY is at the bookcase, + turning over odd TAUCHNITZ volumes._ + +_The Chaplain's Wife_ (_to the Curate, a new arrival_). Oh, you will +_very_ soon get into all our little ways. The hours here are _most_ +convenient--breakfast (_table d'hôte_) with choice of eggs or fish and +coffee--really _admirable_ coffee--from eight to nine; midday dinner +at one. Supper at nine. Then, if you want to write a letter, the post +for England goes out at--(_&c., &c._) And on Sundays, eleven +o'clock service (Evangelical, of _course_!) at the--(_&c., &c._) My +husband--(_&c., &c._) + +_First Old Maid_ (_looking up from a four days old "Telegraph"_). I +see they are still continuing that very interesting correspondence on +"Our Children's Mouths--and are they widening?" One letter attributes +it to the habit of thumb--sucking in infancy--which certainly ought to +be checked. Now I never _would_ allow any-- + +_The Chaplain's Wife_. Nor I. But corals are quite as bad. Only this +afternoon I was telling a Lady in this hotel that her little boy would +be much happier with a rubber ring. You get them at a shop in the +Hoch-strasse I can take you to it at any time, or if you like to +mention my name--(_&c., &c._) + +_Second O.M._ One correspondent thought the practice of eating soup +with table-spoons tended to enlarge the mouth. I really believe there +may be something in it. [_A pause._ + +_The Curate_. The weather we have been having seems to have materially +affected the harvest prospects at home; they say there will be little +or no fodder for the cattle this year. I saw somewhere--I forget where +it was exactly--a suggestion to feed cows on chickweed. + +_Podb._ (_at the bookcase_). Capital thing for them too, Sir. Know a +man who never gives his cattle anything else. + +_The Curate_. Oh, really? And does he find the experiment answer? + +_Podb._ They take to it like birds. And--curious thing--after he'd +tried it a month, all the cows turned yellow and went about chirping +and twittering and hopping. Fact, I assure you! + +_The Curate_. Dear me--I should scarcely have-- + + [_He gradually comes to the conclusion that he is being + trifled with, and after a few moments of uncomfortable + silence, gets up and quits the room with dignity._ + +_Podb._ (_to himself_). _One_ of 'em gone! Now if I can only clear +these old tabbies out, I can tackle CULCHARD. (_Aloud, to Chaplain's +Wife._) You don't happen to know if there's a good doctor here, I +suppose? A lady was saying in the Musik-saal--the lady with the three +daughters who came this afternoon--that she was afraid they were in +for bad feverish colds or something, and asking who there was to call +in. + +_The C.'s W._ Oh, I've no belief in foreign doctors. I always find a +few drops of aconite or pulsatilla,--I have my homoeopathic case with +me now. Perhaps, if I went and had a talk with her I could--[_She goes +out energetically._ + +_Podb._ Another gone! (_To the Old Maids._) So you ain't going down +to the Cloisters to-night? I'm told there's to be some fun +there--Hide-and-seek, or something--first-rate place for it, +especially now the moon's up! + +_First Old Maid_. Nobody told _us_ a word about it. Hide-and-seek--and +in those quaint old Cloisters too--It sounds delightful! What do you +say, TABITHA. Shall we just--? Only to look _on_, you know. We needn't +_play_, unless-- + + [_The Two Old Maids withdraw in a pleased flutter. PODBURY + crosses to CULCHARD._ + +_Podb._ (_with determination_). Look here, CULCHARD, I'd just like to +know what you mean by the way you're going on. + +_Culch._ I thought we were both agreed that discussions of this kind-- + +_Podb._ It's all bosh our travelling together if we're not to have any +discussions. You've been on the sulk long enough. And I'll thank +you to inform me what you're after here, going about alone with Miss +PRENDERGAST like this, in the Museum with her all the morning, and on +the lake again this afternoon,--it won't _do_, you know! + +_Culch._ If she happens to prefer my society to yours and her +brother's, I presume you have no claim to interfere. + +_Podb._ I don't know about that. How about Miss TROTTER? + +_Culch._ If I remember rightly, you yourself were not insensible to +Miss TROTTER's--er--attractions? + +_Podb._ Perhaps not; but I am not engaged to her--you _are_. You told +me so in the train. + +_Culch._ You entirely misunderstood me. There was no definite +understanding between us--nothing of the sort or kind. In fact, it was +merely a passing caprice. Since I have had the privilege of knowing +Miss PRENDERGAST, I see clearly-- + +_Podb._ Then you mean to propose to her, eh? + +_Culch._ That is certainly my intention; have you any objection to +offer? + +_Podb._ Only that I mean to propose too. I daresay my chances are as +good as yours--even now. + +_Culch._ I doubt it, my dear fellow; however, don't let _me_ +discourage you. + +_Podb._ I don't intend to. (_The figure of Miss PRENDERGAST is seen +to pass the glazed doors, and move slowly across the Musik-saal; +both rush to the door, and look after her._) She's gone out into the +balcony. 'Jove, I'll go, too, and get it over! + +_Culch._ I should not advise you to do so. It is possible she may have +gone there with the--er--expectation of being joined by--by somebody +else. [_He smiles complacently._ + +_Podb._ You mean she gave you a _rendezvous_ there? I don't believe +it! + +_Culch._ I did not say so. But I am not prepared to deny that I have +been waiting here with some such expectation. + +_Podb._ (_holding the door_). If you go, I go too--that's all. + +_Culch._ Don't be absurd. You will only be _de trop_, I assure you. + +_Podb._ _De trop_ or not, I mean going--she shall choose between us. + +_Culch._ (_turning pale_). I suppose you intend to enlighten her as to +my--er--little flirtation (before I knew _her_) with Miss TROTTER? Do +it, PODBURY, do it--if you think you'll gain any good by it! + +_Podb._ Telling tales is not exactly in my line. But you don't go on +that balcony without me--that's all. + +_Culch._ Well, listen to reason, my dear fellow. What you propose is +ridiculous. I--I don't mind conceding this: we'll each go, and--er tit +up, as you call it, which goes first. + +_Podb._ Done with you! (_Produces a mark._) Sudden death. You're +Eagle--I'm the other Johnny. (_Tosses._) Eagle! Confound you! But I +mean to have my innings all the same. + +_Culch._ You're perfectly welcome--when I've had mine. I'll--er--wish +you good evening. + + [_He stalks out triumphantly. PODBURY places himself in a + position from which he can command a view of the Musik-saal, + over the top of "über Land und Meer," and awaits results._ + + * * * * * + +STORICULES. + +VI.--BUDWELL'S REVENGE. + +My friend, THOMAS GIDLING, is something indefinite and authoritative +in the Post Office. He is a practical man. He can do fretwork, cook a +steak, clean boots, find out what's wrong with the gas, and understand +Waterloo Station; in an emergency he is invaluable. This is just as +well, because destiny has decided that the life of THOMAS GIDLING +shall be a series of emergencies. He has comfortable bachelor +quarters at the very top of Parkington Chambers, which are situated in +Bloomsbury. + +[Illustration] + +One night last winter I had been dining with GIDLING at his Club; +after dinner he proposed that we should go round to his flat for a +talk and a smoke. GIDLING, being practical, can make coffee, which is +a thing that they cannot do at GIDLING's Club, nor, indeed, at many +others. So I consented. + +We had climbed painfully to the top of Parkington Chambers, and had +just got inside GIDLING's outer door, when we noticed a very marked +and curious smell. "There's something wrong about this," remarked +GIDLING, severely. I agreed with him, adding, out of a nervous +politeness, from which I suffer sometimes, that I rather liked the +smell, "Then you're an idiot," said GIDLING, who never suffers from +politeness at all. He opened the door of his sitting-room, and then we +saw at once what was the matter. The lower part of the chimney was on +fire; the fire-place was covered with glowing masses of soot which had +fallen. "HANKIN's had another nasty touch of that influenza," remarked +GIDLING. HANKIN is GIDLING's servant, and at regular intervals becomes +incapacitated for work. HANKIN himself says that it is influenza, and +speaks of "another of them relapses;" GIDLING thinks that it is as +a rule intoxication. As a matter of fact HANKIN would not be a bad +servant if his zeal was distributed over him rather more evenly. It +is always either excessive or defective. It comes out in lumps. In +neglecting to have the chimney swept HANKIN had shown defect; in the +way that he had piled up the fire he had shown excess. In subsequently +absenting himself from the flat he had shown a certain amount of +wisdom, for GIDLING was rather angry. + +"Not but what I can put it all right," said GIDLING. "I'm a practical +man. Fire Brigade? I thought you'd suggest a few fire brigades. No, +not exactly. I'll show you how to stop a thing of this kind." He went +into his bed-room, and returned with the water-jug. An iron ladder +from the main staircase led through a trap-door in the roof. GIDLING +went up this ladder with the water-jug, while I waited to see the +result in the sitting-room, I could hear him walking about on the +roof, and I looked out for a deluge of water to descend down the +chimney into the fire-place. But no deluge came. Presently GIDLING +descended and entered the room with the empty water-jug. + +"Did it splash much?" he asked. "No, there was no water came down at +all." + +"Oh? Then I've emptied this water-jug down the wrong chimney. We'd +better clear out of this." + +At this juncture HANKIN returned, and GIDLING said a good deal to him. +HANKIN was left to put out the fire, and we went back again to the +Club. GIDLING seemed rather annoyed with me for laughing about his +mistake. + +"It's a deuced awkward thing," he said. "That water went down +somebody's chimney, and it's put somebody's fire out. That means +unpleasantness, you know, if he or she finds out who did it." + +"Who live in the flats below yours?" I asked. + +"An Art-student and her mother in the flat below mine--they are really +most charming people, and I hope to goodness it wasn't their chimney +that I poured the water down. I'm on rather friendly terms with them. +Then on the first floor there's BUDWELL. He's a conceited affected +ape. I only hope it was he who got the benefit of that water-jug. It's +rather amusing, you know. BUDWELL's very much in love with Miss VANE +(that's the Art-student), and she loathes him--at least I believe so. +Poor beggar!" GIDLING laughed, sarcastically. "Yes, I hope that was +BUDWELL's chimney, not the other." + +It turned out afterwards that it _was_ BUDWELL's chimney, and he found +out that it was GIDLING who had done the deed. So BUDWELL determined +on revenge. He climbed up on to the roof with a large bath-can of +water, intending to empty it down GIDLING's chimney. Chimneys ought to +be labelled. The whole of the contents of that can descended into Mrs. +VANE's fireplace. BUDWELL called and apologised, but it was of no use. +They considered it mean of BUDWELL to take revenge for what was only +a mistake on GIDLING's part; and they were not very well pleased +at having their own fire put out. "A chimney's not the place for a +cataract, you know, Mr. BUDWELL," said Miss VANE. + +BUDWELL went back to his own flat and brooded over his misfortunes. He +had now grown still more angry with GIDLING, which was irrational of +him; and he determined to take a still fiercer revenge. Late at night +he conveyed the bath-can and several jugs, all full of water, on to +the roof. There was no fear of his selecting Mrs. VANE's chimney by +mistake this time. One by one he emptied the jugs and the water-can, +and then descended to his own flat, fiendishly triumphant, as he +thought of the havoc he must have made in GIDLING's fire-place. + +But when he got to his own flat, he found that he had emptied all that +water down his own chimney. + +After that he gave up his revenges, together with his affections and +his apartments. But GIDLING tells the story with considerable unction; +the facts of it were partly derived from BUDWELL's servant and partly +from Miss VANE--with whom GIDLING is beginning to be on more than +friendly terms. + + * * * * * + +INTERNATIONAL NURSERY-TALE CONGRESS. + +The Chair was taken by Mr. JOHN HORNER, P.R.I.N.T.C., lineal +descendant of the celebrated "Jack" of that ilk. + +[Illustration] + +The President said he had no desire to waste the meeting's valuable +time. He would at once address himself (and the company present) to +the myth, if myth it could be called, which had immortalised his own +name. Need he say he alluded to the legend of "Little Jack Horner"? +(_Cheers._) Some commentators are of opinion that "HORNER." was a +typographical error for "HOMER." But the prefix; and the epithet +combined to militate against this ingenious and plausible, but +specious, theory. "HOMER" was not in any sense "Little," nor was his +Pagan name "JACK." Again, "Corner," in the second line, could not +in any language have ever rhymed with "HOMER." He knew that "Cromer" +furnished them with a rhyme for "HOMER;" but if this were accepted, +what became of the ancient Greek, of the Syriac, of the Phoenician, +of the Nimrodic legends, nay, of the very _Iliad_ itself, if "HOMER" +were a native of "Cromer"? (_Loud and prolonged cheers._) No! +"Jack Horner," or, as it was originally written, "Jakorna," was +of Scandinavian origin, and it was, in all probability, a mythmic +rhyth--No, beg pardon, he should say a rhythmic myth (_Cheers_) +sung by a wandering Sam Oar Troupe on their visiting Egypt and the +Provinces before the time of the Celtic-Phoenician O'SIRIS, or at +least before the reign of RAMESES THE FIRST, ancestor of the great +Scotch RAMSEY family--(_Cheers_)--at one of the social entertainments +given on a non-hunting day by that eminent sportsman NIMROD. Then +came the question of where was "the corner" in which Jakorna secluded +himself? Of course, Christmas, as differentiating this pie from all +others, was a modern substitution. The original word was probably +"Kosmik." (_The lecture was still proceeding when our Reporter left, +the dryness of the subject having unfortunately affected his throat._) + + * * * * * + +[Illustration: A CONNOISSEUR. + +_Sir Pompey Bedell._ "THIS BOTTLE OF ROMANÉE-CONTI SEEMS RATHER +CLOUDY, BROWN! IT _OUGHT_ TO BE ALL RIGHT. I KNOW IT STANDS ME IN +_TWELVE GUINEAS A DOZEN!_" + +_The New Butler._ "THERE CERTAINLY _HIS_ SOME SEDIMENT, SIR POMPEY; +BUT IT'S OF NO CONSEQUENCE WHATEVER! I TRIED A BOTTLE OF IT _MYSELF_ +THE OTHER DAY, AND FOUND IT FIRST-RATE!"] + + * * * * * + +"WHAT WILL HE DO WITH IT?" + + ["The 'tehorni narod'--the inconceivably ill-used, patient, + long-suffering 'black people,' as the moujiks of White + Russia are grimly denominated by their rulers--are dying by + thousands, of sheer starvation, without a hand being stretched + out by the 'Tchin' to rescue them from the greedy jaws of + Death."--_Daily Telegraph_. + + The moujiks are remonstrating and even rebelling in + consequence.] + + "Little Father," we have suffered long, and sorrowed, + We the "children" of the wonderful White Tsar, + Steadfast patience from staunch loyalty have borrowed, + Slaved for Slavdom still in Peace, and died in War; + We have borne the yoke of power, and its abuses, + We have trusted cells and shackles served their turn; + Nay, that e'en the ruthless knout had noble uses; + Now we starve--and think--and burn. + + "Little Father," is your power then so paternal + As in pious proclamation is set forth? + If the round earth bears a brand of the infernal, + Does the trail of it not taint our native North? + Ay, we love it as in truth we've ever loved it. + Our devotion, poorly paid, is firm and strong; + Have our little pitied miseries not proved it, + And our weary tale of wrong? + + "Little Father," we are hungering now, neglected, + While the foreigner shouts praises in our ports; + We are honoured, say your scribes, loved, feared, respected, + The proud Frank, we fought for you, your friendship courts. + The golden price of it you hug most gladly. + Well, that price, what is its destined end and aim? + The indulgence of ambitions cherished madly? + The pursuit of warrior fame? + + Your realm is ever widening, Tsar, and lengthening, + Though its peoples--your dear children--prosper not; + Railways stretching, boundaries creeping, legions strengthening! + And the end, O Tsar, is--where?--the purpose--what? + The Afghan, Tartar, Turk feel your advancing, + The Persian and the Mongol hear your tread, + And an eager watchful eye is eastward glancing + Where the Lion lifts his head. + + And your children, "Little Father"? They are lying + In their thousands at your threshold, waiting death. + Gold you gather whilst your foodless thralls are dying! + Is appeal, oh Great White Tsar, but wasted breath? + On armaments aggressive are you spending + What might solace the "black people" midst their dead? + Of the millions the effusive Frank is lending + Is there _nothing_ left for bread? + + * * * * * + +BOUILLABAISSE. + + [There has been some correspondence lately about + Bouillabaisse, and a writer in the _Evening News_ (who + misquotes THACKERAY) actually gives a recipe without oil!] + + Our THACKERAY in ancient days, + Wrote of a very famous dish, + And said in stanzas in its praise, + 'Twas made of several kinds of fish. + A savoury stew it is indeed, + And he's "in comfortable case" + Who finds before him at his need + A smoking dish of Bouillabaisse. + + And now folks laud that dish again, + And o'er it raise a pretty coil, + While one rash man we see with pain, + Would dare to make it minus oil. + Oh! shade of TERRÉ, you no doubt + Would make once more the "droll grimace," + At such a savage, who left out + The olive oil, in Bouillabaisse. + + * * * * * + +"THOUGHT-WAVES." (_By an Un-Esoteric._)--The Theosophists talk mistily +about "the concentration of mind-force on a thought-wave"--which seems +only another way of saying that such minds are, at the time, "quite at +sea." + + * * * * * + +[Illustration: "WHAT WILL HE DO WITH IT?" + +STARVING RUSSIAN PEASANT. "IS NONE OF THAT FOR _ME_, 'LITTLE +FATHER'?"] + + * * * * * + +[Illustration: FANCY PORTRAIT. + +SIR W.V. HARCOURT, + +_THE_ "ODD FELLOW" OUT.] + + * * * * * + +MONEY MAKES THE MAN. + + (_A Fragment from a Romance dedicated by Mr. Punch to Mr. + Diggle._) + +"It is entirely your own fault," said the intruder, as he put another +silver tea-pot in his bag. + +"I don't see that at all," replied the master of the house, moving +uneasily in his chair. + +"Well, I have not time to argue with you," returned the other, as he +held up an enamelled ship of beautiful workmanship. "Dear me, this is +really very fine. I have never seen anything like it before! What is +it?" + +"I got it at a sale in Derbyshire. I fancy it must be something like +the old Battersea enamel." + +"Very fine! And solid silver, too! Well, in all my experience, and +I have been in the profession some twenty years, I have seen nothing +like it. Beautiful! Lovely!" + +"If you had not tied my hands behind my back," explained the master +of the house, "I could show you, by lifting that lid, you would see +prettier subjects in the interior of the vessel." + +"You certainly tempt me," answered the intruder, "to give you an +increased facility in moving. But it is against my rules. I always +work in a methodical manner, and one of my regulations is, before I +open the safe, I must bind the master of the house hand and foot in +an arm-chair. But what were we talking about?" + +"You were saying," returned the other, with a sigh, "that it was my +own fault that I find myself in this painful, this ruinous position. +As a man of education I cannot see how you can advance such a +proposition." + +"But that's the point. I am _not_ a man of education. I don't know +how to play the piano, and can scarcely manage a free-hand sketch of +a cathedral. My Greek is shaky, and I speak French and German with an +accent enough to drive a linguist mad. No, no, you take my word for +it--this little incident would never have happened had you behaved +wisely, and like a public-spirited citizen." + +"What do you mean?" asked the householder. + +"Why, this, that if you had paid more to the School Board, I would +have received a better education, and have never been a housebreaker. +As it is, I am only making up the difference between the sum you have +paid, and the sum you should have expended." + +And the burglar, helping himself to another silver tea-pot, continued +his lucrative work. + + * * * * * + +THE MUSIC OF THE SPHERES. + + The "true sphere of woman"--so HARRISON says-- + In effect--is the family circle. Some praise; + But to geometricians it strange may appear, + For a "circle" is only a _part_ of a "sphere." + Since woman appeared at the wickets, some think + (Though male cricketers from the conclusion may shrink), + That the true "sphere" of woman must be, after all, + A leathern one--typed by a new cricket-ball. + Young girls think a "Ball" of another guess sort + Is the sphere in which woman may find truest sport. + To harmonise all these opinions, 'tis clear, + Is hard; but, whatever be woman's true sphere, + Whether found in the dictum of "Positive" HARRISON, + And what ladies call his "degrading comparison," + Or otherwhere,--this will be certainly found, + If you'll let angry women alone they'll "come _round_." + + * * * * * + +"THE MAN FOR THE POST."--Sir JAMES FERGUSSON. + + * * * * * + +TALK FOR TRAVELLERS. + + ["The German officials at the frontier, since the relaxation + of the passport regulations, have been ordered to treat + foreign passengers with every politeness."--_Daily Papers_.] + +Mein Herr, will you do us the honour to descend from the +railway-carriage? It will be merely a matter of form. We need not +disturb those gracious ladies, your wife and daughters. + +This is the best way to the Customs. You will notice that we have +swept the path that leads to the door. + +Certainly, these arm-chairs are for the use of passengers. We have +placed them there ourselves, and can recommend them. + +Is it asking too great a favour to beg you to lend me the keys of your +boxes? A hundred thousand thanks. + +Your explanation is absolutely satisfactory. You are bringing these +sixteen unopened boxes of cigars home for your grandmother. It is a +most proper thing to do, and, under the circumstances, the duty will +be remitted. + +And these three hundred yards of lace of various makes and ages? An +heir-loom! Indeed! Then, of course, the packet must pass duty-free. + +As we have found nothing of consequence in this portmanteau of yours, +it will be unnecessary to search the nineteen boxes of that gracious +lady, your wife. No doubt she has obeyed your instruction not to +smuggle. We are absolutely satisfied with your explanations, and are +greatly obliged to you for your kindness and condescension. + +This is the way to the carriage. We have placed steps before the door, +as without a platform it is difficult to ascend. + +No, Mein Herr, it is utterly impossible! We are forbidden by the +EMPEROR himself to accept a gratuity. + +Yes, Madam, it is indeed without charge. Do not tempt us. Instant +dismissal is the penalty. + +Certainly, Mein Herr, you could get the same politeness before the +EMPEROR issued his Imperial instructions. + +But then the charge was a thaler! + + * * * * * + +THE GREAT TWIN BRETHREN. + + ["I do not wish to call Mr. GLADSTONE by a name which would + be both tasteless and pointless."--_Mr. A.V. Dicey's Letter to + the Times._] + + Tasteless and pointless, DICEY? Well, the time _is_ out of joint, + And you were born to set it right, though _not_ with "taste" and "point." + We cannot all do all things, Sir, and if you save the State + (As the great Twin Brethren mean to in despite of HARCOURT's hate), + What _does_ it matter, DICEY, if your letters are not quite + In that style epistolary, which our fathers called "polite"? + 'Tis a little too meticulous--in you--and rather late, + After giving Mr. GLADSTONE such a wholesome slashing "slate." + Take heart of grace, dear DICEY, and don't let Sir WILLIAM's "point" + In your tough (if tasteless) armour find a vulnerable joint. + "Old Timbertoes" won't trouble, Sir, to wish that _you_ were dead, + And his taste (_not_ point) forbids him to call you "Old Wooden-head!" + + * * * * * + +KEEP WATCH! + + [A Visitor fishing off Deal Pier brought up a gold watch + and chain on his hook. It is supposed to be one lost by a + resident, but the lucky angler has not been seen since.] + + Paradoxical portent! Most worthy of rhyme + Is this fortunate angler who tried to kill time. + Fate made him the offer, and, wisely, he book'd it; + He not only killed time, but he caught it,--and "hook'd it." + + * * * * * + +[Illustration: MR. PUNCH VISITS SCARBOROUGH SPA.] + + * * * * * + +BOULANGER. + + So high he floated, that he seemed to climb; + The bladder blown by chance was burst by time. + Falsely-earned fame fools bolstered at the urns; + The mob which reared the god the idol burns. + To cling one moment nigh to power's crest, + Then, earthward flung, sink to oblivion's rest + Self-sought, 'midst careless acquiescence, seems + Strange fate, e'en for a thing of schemes and dreams; + But CÆSAR's simulacrum, seen by day, + Scarce envious CASCA's self would stoop to slay, + And mounting mediocrity, once o'erthrown, + Need fear--or hope--no dagger save its own. + + * * * * * + +FROM BRIGHT TO DULL.--In an interesting article on artificial +reproductions of Nature's treasures, the _Standard_ remarked that +"Real diamonds have been turned out of the chemist's retorts." What a +brilliant chemist he must have been! Probably of Hibernian origin, as +among conversational sparklers there are few on record more brilliant +than "Irish Diamonds." Stay, though! If the real diamonds were "turned +out of the chemist's retorts," then his retorts, without these flashes +of brilliancy, must have been a trifle dull, and he is no longer the +chemist we took him for. "But," to quote our KIPLING, "that is another +story." + + * * * * * + +THE NEW EVANGEL. + + [M. ZOLA, in his new Novel, glorifies War, and the + regenerative mission of human bloodshed.] + + "ZOLA on War," intensifies the "Hola!" + Of purists who are all for "war on ZOLA!" + Well, he whose pen is touched with tints from Tophet, + Is the right man to pose as Red War's Prophet! + + * * * * * + +A TRIFLE FOR _THE BUILDER_.--"When are houses like difficulties?" And +the practical man replies, "When they have to be 'faced.'" + + * * * * * + +[Illustration: THE RULING PASSION STRONG AT DINNER. + +_Laconic Waiter_ (_thoroughly familiar with Sporting Major's taste in +Champagne_). "SEVENTY-FOUR, SIR?" + +_Sporting Major_ (_down on his luck, after a bad week at Newmarket_). +"SEVEN-TO-FOUR, SIR! DASH IT! WOULDN'T TAKE TEN TO ONE ABOUT +ANYTHING!"] + + * * * * * + +OUR BOOKING-OFFICE. + +[Illustration] + +"Respected ANDREW LANG," writes the Baron's Assistant Reader, "I have +read your criticism in _Longman's Magazine_ upon Mr. BARRY PAIN's _In +a Canadian Canoe_. It's an ugly piece of bludgeon work, I admit, but +not convincing to anyone who has read the book of which you speak. You +tear away a line or two from the context, and ask your readers to say +if _that_ is wit or humour. How your admirers would have protested +had any sacrilegious critic ventured to treat one of your own immortal +works in this manner. _Essays in Little_, a book which, by the way, +appeared in the same series for which Mr. BARRY PAIN wrote, is a +pleasant and inoffensive compilation, but even _Essays in Little_ +would have presented a sorry appearance if, let us say, ANDREW LANG +had reviewed it in this perfunctory and extractory and arbitrary +fashion. I remember that in that case the critics were respectfully +enthusiastic. Even Mr. BLUDYER would have doffed his cap, I fancy, to +one + + Who rhymes, researches and reviews, + Who sometimes writes like Genesis, + And sometimes in the _Daily News_. + +For, after all, you stand high in the journalistic world. Your opinion +passes current in many a select circle. Not even your vagaries seem to +have power to offend the worshippers to whom your word has long been +a law, whether you spoke of golf, of salmon, of folk-lore or of books. +The censure of a BLUDYER (I wonder what has brought that formidable +name to my mind) can do little to discourage you. But Mr. BARRY PAIN +is a young writer. And yet some one remarked that _In a Canadian +Canoe_ was better even than _Essays in Little_, and the audacious +words were actually printed in a journal to which ANDREW LANG is +an occasional contributor. I myself have never dared to go so far. +There is something sacred about an established reputation. And I can +honestly say that I like the elegant airy trifles which your little +Muse has bestowed upon us, though I confess to a weariness when the +talk is too much of golf-clubs and salmon rods. And I admire your +appreciation of the original work of other men. In the present case +you and I disagree upon a question of taste. That is all. _Tant pis +pour moi_, I hasten to add. But I disagree in good company, for I note +with some amusement, that the PAYN whom you rightly praise, has a kind +and encouraging word for the PAIN whom you so vehemently disparage. +And in this case I will stake my all upon the eulogy of JAMES PAYN as +against the censure of ANDREW LANG. As you did me the honour to refer +to something I had written, I thought myself bound in politeness to +reply, and am + +Your obedient servant, + +AN A.R. IN THE B. DE B.-W.'s OFFICE." + + * * * * * + +A STRAIGHT TIP TO CANADIAN "CROSS COVES." + + 'Tis nice "in a Canadian Canoe" + To practise what the ribald call "canoodling;" + But what the deuce does the Dominion do, + "In _this_ galley," with this new game of "boodling?" + "Paddle your own Canoe," dear, if you will, + But kick all "cross coves" out, and trust to honest skill. + + * * * * * + +JOURNAL OF A ROLLING STONE. + +TENTH ENTRY. + +DICK FIBBINS, my more or less "learned" instructor in practical law, +goes out to a good many evening parties, I find. Casually remarks that +he "danced three square dances, the other night, with old DAVIS's ugly +daughter, the Solor (legal slang for Solicitor), in Caraway Street." +It's DAVIS himself, not the daughter, that is the Solicitor, and, it +seems she introduced the gay FIBBINS to her Papa. Hence another brief, +a rather complicated one, on some dispute about a mortgage. + +[Illustration] + +On the morning when the case is to come into Court, DICK the +Brief-hunter, who has promised to take me there, seems nervous. Yet he +is still confident that, if "old PROSER" is the judge, he will "pull +the thing off." It will be, apparently, a case of "Pull FIBBINS, pull +PROSER." + +In Court I occupy a seat just behind him, because--as he +observes--I've been "grinding away at the case, and know the subject +down to the ground"--which I don't think _he_ does. I therefore am to +act as his reserves, also as his prompter, and to supply him with the +names of cases which he has forgotten, and which he wishes to quote. +Rather a responsible position. Should feel more confidence in result +if FIBBINS had told me of this prompter arrangement before the very +morning when the trial comes on. + +"Old PROSER," appears to my untutored gaze to be rather a dignified +occupant of the Bench. I don't know whether he cherishes any personal +or professional animosity against DICK FIBBINS, but directly the +latter opens his mouth to begin, PROSER seems inclined to jump down +it. + +"A complicated case of foreclosure?" he growls. "You needn't tell us +that. All foreclosure cases are complicated. _I_ ever saw one yet that +wasn't." + +FIBBINS goes along unimpeded for a minute or two, PROSER having thrown +himself back with an air of resigned inattention, one of the other +Judges taking furtive notes, and the third resting his elbows on his +desk, and his head on his elbows, and eyeing _me_ with a stony and +meaningless stare. Can he suddenly have gone mad? + +I have no time to consider this interesting point, as FIBBINS is again +in difficulties about some precedent that he wants to quote, but which +he has forgotten, and turns sharply round on me, saying, in a fierce +whisper-- + +"What the doose _is_ that case?" + +I look hurriedly down on the sheet of paper on which (as I fancy) I +have jotted down the authorities bearing on the subject, and reply, +also in a whisper--"_Cookson and Gedge_." + +"The Court, m'luds," FIBBINS airily proceeds, as if he were indebted +entirely to his own memory for the information, "held in _Cookson and +Gedge_ that a mortgagor who desires to foreclose--" + +"Where is the case you mention?" suddenly asks the Judge who was +staring at me a moment ago. He is now engaged in first looking at my +instructor suspiciously, and then at me, as if he thought that there +was some horrible secret between us, which he is determined to probe +to the bottom. + +"Volume Six of the _Law Reports_, m'lud." + +"Page?" snaps PROSER. + +"Page 184, m'lud. As I was saying, the Court there held that the right +to foreclose at any reasonable time is not taken away--" + +This time the interruption comes from the Judge who I thought was +going mad, but who now seems to be preternaturally and offensively +sane. + +"It would be odd," he observes, cuttingly, "if any Court _had_ decided +a point about mortgages in _Cookson versus Gedge_, because on looking +at the page to which you have referred us, find that _Cookson and +Gedge_ was _a running-down case_!" + +I glance at the paper before me in consternation; another moment, and +the horrifying fact is revealed to me that the sheet of "authorities" +I have brought with me bears, not on the mortgage case now before the +Court, but on that previous six-guinea matter on which I had given +ROGERS & Co. my valuable Opinion gratis. + +I hear DICK FIBBINS, in this trying position, with the eyes of three +Judges fixed on him, swearing at me under his breath in the most awful +manner. But why did he depend on _me_? Why didn't he get up the case +himself? + +Deprived at one blow of most of his precedents, "shorn"--as the Breach +of Promise Reports puts it--"of its usual attractions," FIBBINS's +speech becomes an impotent affair. He has to quote such cases as he +can remember, and as neither his memory nor his legal knowledge is +great, he presents them all wrongly, and prematurely sits down. I +see PROSER's wrinkled countenance illumined with an exultant smile. +Just as I am moving out of Court (FIBBINS has to "move" _in_ Court), +because I am desirous of avoiding FIBBINS's wrath,--though I feel that +this _fiasco_ is more his fault than mine,--I hear the presiding judge +(the mad one) say to the Defendant's Counsel that he need not trouble +to address them. I know what _that_ means--judgment for the Defendant! + +Chancing half-an-hour later to enter a Strand Restaurant, part of +which, I regret to say, is also a drinking-bar, I am startled at +beholding the identical form and features of FIBBINS himself. He +appears flushed--has two companions with him, to whom he is talking +excitedly. I hear the words--"idiot"--"jackass of a pupil"--"regular +sell"--and; but no, perhaps I had better not repeat all that I _did_ +hear. I decide to seek refreshment elsewhere. + +Over the subsequent scene in FIBBINS's Chambers I prefer to draw a +veil. It is sufficient to say that I was obliged to leave FIBBINS, and +thereafter received a solid half-year's instruction in the Chambers of +a learned Counsel who was not a briefless impostor. + +I heard afterwards that he had added the story to his fund of legal +dining-out anecdotes, and had considerably amplified it. It came out +in a shape which made FIBBINS a hero, myself an imbecile of a rather +malicious kind, PROSER helplessly cowering under FIBBINS's wealth of +arguments, and the other two Judges reduced to admiring silence. I +take this opportunity of stating that if anybody "cowered" in Court on +that memorable occasion, it was certainly not poor old PROSER. + + * * * * * + +THE "DISAPPOINTMENT OF DECEMBER." + + ["It is too early yet (says the _Telegraph_) to announce the + title of the latest of the Laureate's plays, but this much may + be said, that it is written partly in blank verse and partly + in prose, that it is what is known in theatrical circles as + a 'a costume play,' and that the scene is laid in England. It + may, however, interest sensitive dramatists to know that Lord + TENNYSON is liberal enough to place the stage detail wholly in + the competent hands of Mr. DALY. He does not wince if a line + is cut here and there, or protest if a scene or a speech has + to be supplied."] + +[Illustration: A cut here and there will be necessary.] + + Behold, I know not anything,-- + Except that if I write two Acts in verse, + And two in prose, I might do worse + Than having a Four Act song to sing. + + I leave the dress we know to-day; + On English ground my scene I set, + And wonder if I touch as yet, + What we have termed a "_Costume Play!_" + + If I have over-writ, and laid, + It may be here, it may be there, + The fat too thickly on,--with care + To cut it down be not afraid. + + But oh, if here and there I seem + To have half-said what I should say, + Give me the start--I'll fire away, + And keep up the poetic steam-- + + Ay! keep it up in lines that run + As glibly from the Laureate's pen, + That I shall by my fellow men + Be greeted with "That's TENNYSON!" + +In short, it will not be easy, from such scanty information as the +Noble Rhymester has as yet given to the public, to say precisely what +sort of a play this promised comedy, "half in prose, half in blank +verse," will prove itself to be; but it is to be hoped with _The +Promise of May_ still fresh in the memory of many a playgoer, that +the forthcoming effort may not, after all, turn out to merit the +unpromising title of _The Disappointment of December_. + + * * * * * + +A MYSTERIOUSLY MASONIC LINE.--"Oh, for a Lodge in some vast +wilderness!" + + * * * * * + +NOTICE.--Rejected Communications or Contributions, whether MS., +Printed Matter, Drawings, or Pictures of any description, will in no +case be returned, not even when accompanied by a Stamped and Addressed +Envelope, Cover, or Wrapper. To this rule there will be no exception. + + + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Punch, Or The London Charivari, Vol. +101. October 10, 1891, by Various + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PUNCH *** + +***** This file should be named 13994-8.txt or 13994-8.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/1/3/9/9/13994/ + +Produced by Malcolm Farmer, William Flis, and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team. + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Punch, Or The London Charivari, Vol. 101. October 10, 1891 + +Author: Various + +Release Date: November 9, 2004 [EBook #13994] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PUNCH *** + + + + +Produced by Malcolm Farmer, William Flis, and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team. + + + + + + +</pre> + + <h1>PUNCH,<br /> + OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.</h1> + + <h2>Vol. 101.</h2> + <hr class="full" /> + + <h2>October 10, 1891.</h2> + <hr class="full" /> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page169" + id="page169"></a>[pg 169]</span> + + <div class="figcenter" + style="width:60%;"> + <a href="images/169-1.png"><img width="100%" + src="images/169-1.png" + alt="THE CYCLIST CENTAUR OF THE FUTURE." /></a> + + <h3>THE CYCLIST CENTAUR OF THE FUTURE.</h3>THE DREAM OF A + (PNEUMATIC) TYRO. + </div> + <hr /> + + <h3>ATROPOS AND THE ANTHROPOIDS.</h3> + + <h4>(<i>A Dirge at the Zoo.</i>)</h4> + + <blockquote class="note"> + <p>["The Anthropoid apes, of which there was recently such + a representative series in the Zoo, have dwindled sadly in + numbers this year. The lamented decease of 'Sally' was + referred to a few weeks ago; we have now to record the + death of 'George,' the Orang-Outang."—<i>Daily + News</i>.]</p> + </blockquote> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Late for the Chimpanzee the requiem rang,</p> + + <p>Now the bell tolls for the Orang-Outang.</p> + + <p>Well may spasmodic sobs choke childhood's gorge,</p> + + <p>Now they who sighed for "Sally" grieve for + "George."</p> + + <p>A "wilderness of monkeys" can't console,</p> + + <p>For Anthropoids defunct. Of Apedom's whole,</p> + + <p>One little Chimpanzee, one Gibbon small,</p> + + <p>(Who ought to write his race's "Rise and Fall,")</p> + + <p>Alone remain to cheer the tearful Zoo,</p> + + <p>And mitigate lone boyhood's loud bohoo!</p> + + <p>"Sally" adieu! to "George" a long farewell!</p> + + <p>Ah! muffle if you please their passing bell!</p> + + <p>Only one thought can cheer us in the least;</p> + + <p>"No doubt the stock will shortly be increased."</p> + + <p>Thanks, <i>Daily News</i>! Wipe, childhood, the wet + eye,</p> + + <p>And Apedom for dead kin soften the Simian sigh!</p> + </div> + </div> + <hr /> + + <p>CHARITY'S WORD OF COMMAND.—"Present alms!"</p> + <hr /> + + <h2>OYSTERS (NOT) FOR EVER!</h2> + + <div class="figright" + style="width:16%;"> + <a href="images/169-2.png"><img width="100%" + src="images/169-2.png" + alt="A Native Hoister." /></a>A Native Hoister. + </div> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>He was a gentle Fishmonger, and WILLIAMSON his + name,</p> + + <p>No doubt you may have heard before his philanthropic + game.</p> + + <p>The lack of oysters pained him much, for how could + people royster</p> + + <p>And happy be in r-less months without the luscious + oyster?</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>A look of pain was in his face, a pucker on his + brow,</p> + + <p>Long time he pondered very hard to try and find out + how.</p> + + <p>At last he cried, "Eureka! from France I'll go and + bring them,</p> + + <p>And into beds I've got at home without a murmur + fling them."</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Then they came across the Channel, and he very + sweetly said,</p> + + <p>"So glad to see you looking well, would you like to + see your bed?</p> + + <p>For there, my little dears, you stay; you'll one day + know the reason.</p> + + <p>I'll rouse you when the month of May makes natives + out of season."</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>The Fishmongers, the Worshipful, sent down a man to + see,</p> + + <p>He wrung his hands and shook his head, and said, + "Oh, miseree!</p> + + <p>It pains me very deeply, and it drives me to + distraction,</p> + + <p>You've done what's wrong, and I shall have to + institute an action."</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Then WILLIAMSON, he sobbed aloud, and shed a bitter + tear,</p> + + <p>"Oh, hang it all," he cried, "why <i>must</i> you + come and interfere?</p> + + <p>I quite admit, however, that I see your point + precisely,</p> + + <p>So don't let's quarrel, let's be friends, and bring + the action nicely."</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>They brought that friendly action, and the clever + counsel tried</p> + + <p>To prove to FAUDELL PHILLIPS that the law was on his + side.</p> + + <p>But the oyster-dealer found the law for him was one + too many,</p> + + <p>So he had to pay the piper—to be quite exact, + a penny.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>And you who love your oyster in the latter end of + May,</p> + + <p>In June, July, and August, too, will sadly rue the + day,</p> + + <p>For philanthropic folk will find it + unremunerative</p> + + <p>To introduce in summer-time this Franco-English + native.<a id="footnotetag1" + name="footnotetag1"></a><a href="#footnote1"><sup>1</sup></a></p> + </div> + </div> + + <blockquote class="footnote"> + <a id="footnote1" + name="footnote1"></a><b>Footnote 1:</b> + <a href="#footnotetag1">(return)</a> + + <p>Oysters are to be six shillings a dozen this winter!! + How many of the ordinarily careless will now be compelled + to go by RULES without going in for Oysters. + N.B.—"Action" in these verses is poetic license for + "summons."</p> + </blockquote> + <hr /> + + <h2>"SAVE ME FROM MY FRIENDS!"</h2> + + <blockquote> + <p>SCENE—<i>A Place of Meeting. Enter</i> + Parliamentary Leader <i>and his</i> Subordinate. <i>They + greet one another effusively.</i></p> + </blockquote> + + <p><i>Leader</i> (<i>cordially</i>). And now, my dear fellow, + how are my interests?</p> + + <p><i>Sub.</i> (<i>with much heartiness</i>). Getting on + capitally! Just been writing to all the papers to say that it + is stupid to call you "Old Dot-and-go-one," because it is + inapplicable to either your age or your mode of + controversy.</p> + + <p><i>Lead.</i> (<i>with a feeble smile</i>). That <i>was</i> + kind of you! But who had said it?</p> + + <p><i>Sub.</i> (<i>airily</i>). Oh, someone of about + fourth-rate importance! and it had been quite forgotten you + know. So I dragged it up again, and put it all right for + you.</p> + + <p><i>Lead.</i> (<i>shaking hands</i>). Thanks, so very much. + But if persons had forgotten it, why revert to it?</p> + + <p><i>Sub.</i> Oh, don't you see? Why, the point is, you are + not a bit like it-not a scrap like it! Next week I shall write + and say that it's rubbish to call you a turncoat, because you + have always been consistent.</p> + + <p><i>Lead.</i> (<i>anxiously</i>). But <i>is</i> anybody + calling me a turncoat?</p> + + <p><i>Sub.</i> Not that I know of, but they might, don't you + see. So it's as well to be on the safe side. I shall say that, + if any one <i>did</i> call you a turncoat, that the speaker + would prove himself a liar! That ought to give you a leg up, + oughtn't it?</p> + + <p><i>Lead.</i> (<i>with some hesitation</i>). My dear friend, + you are <i>most</i> kind; but if you don't mind, I would be so + immensely obliged if you would leave my interests alone.</p> + + <p><i>Sub.</i> (<i>with great cordiality</i>). What, leave your + interests alone! Never! You may be always sure of <i>my</i> + hearty support!</p> + + <p><i>Lead.</i> (<i>earnestly</i>). But as a personal matter, I + must beg of you kindly to leave me alone.</p> + + <p><i>Sub.</i> (<i>reluctantly</i>). Well, of course, if you + make it a personal matter, I must consent. But the Party will + suffer.</p> + + <p><i>Lead.</i> (<i>dryly</i>). Possibly—from your point + of view. [<i>Exeunt.</i></p> + <hr /> + + <p>JAWFUL NEWS!—<i>The Diminution of the Jaw in the + Civilised Races</i> is the title of a pamphlet by Mr. F. HOWARD + COLLINS. We haven't read it; but if it be in favour of the + diminution of "jaw," we heartily recommend its study to all + Members of Parliament, actual or intending, and to all + post-prandial speechmakers generally.</p> + <hr /> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page170" + id="page170"></a>[pg 170]</span> + + <div class="figcenter" + style="width:100%;"> + <a href="images/170.png"><img width="100%" + src="images/170.png" + alt="BUMBLEDOM'S BIG OPENING." /></a> + + <h3>BUMBLEDOM'S BIG OPENING.</h3><i>Bumble</i>. "DON'T + BOTHER ME ABOUT YOUR DRAINAGE AND SICH! WHY, NOW THE SWELLS + IS 'OOKIN' IT, I'M A-GOING TO BE CHAIRMAN OF THE COUNTY + COUNCIL!" + </div> + + <p><i>Bumble (after reading Dr. T. Orme Duffield's Report to + the Vestry of Kensington on the health and sanitary condition + of the district), loquitur</i>:—</p> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Oh bother this sanit'ry bosh! Always piping the same + dull old strains,</p> + + <p>One would think there wos nothink in life to be done + but go sniffing the Drains!</p> + + <p>Wich my nose is a dalicot one, and I don't like the + job, not by lumps;</p> + + <p>And I <i>won't</i> be perpetual poked up by these + peeping and prying old pumps.</p> + + <p>"Bumbledom and Disease!" I like that,—like the + <i>Times</i>' dashed himperence, I think.</p> + + <p>We porochial pots is to pass all our time + a-prospecting for + Stink!</p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page171" + id="page171"></a>[pg 171]</span> + + <p>Doctor DUDFIELD thinks WE should inspeck, + periodical, all privit dwellings,</p> + + <p>Discover and show up defecks, sech as fumings and + leakings, and smellings,</p> + + <p>As "lurk unsuspected about," which the tenants + theirselves do not twig,</p> + + <p>And the landlords, in course, don't remove. Well, + your tenant is mostly a pig,</p> + + <p>And your landlord is sometimes a 'og; still between + 'em <i>we</i> jest slip along,</p> + + <p>But do dooty for both of 'em? Snakes! that is coming + it slightly <i>too</i> strong.</p> + + <p>The tenants 'old on jest as long as they can, and + the landlords 'old orf.</p> + + <p>A sort of a ketchy sore-throat, or a bit of a qualm + or a korf,</p> + + <p>Make some idjots go fair orf their chumps on + diphtheria, and typhod and such;</p> + + <p>But then others, who don't like a hupset, put up + with the lot, pooty much,</p> + + <p>Jest to save topsy-turvey and 'oles in the garden, + and mud on the stairs;</p> + + <p>Landlords, likeways, is dabs at postponing, and + patching, and 'ushing up scares.</p> + + <p>But if <i>we</i> are to spot wot goes quisby, and be + the responsible chaps,</p> + + <p>Wheugh! we <i>should</i> 'ave a regular beanfeast + with sockets and air-pipes and traps!</p> + + <p>No, no, westry worrying sneaks, it won't work. As + for "W.B.E."</p> + + <p>He may frighten the Kensington lot, he won't 'ave no + effeck upon Me!</p> + + <p>Diphtheria be jolly well dashed! It is often, as + DUDFIELD explains,</p> + + <p>Mere "follicular(—hem!—) tonsillitis." + <i>Me</i> bother my 'ed about Drains?</p> + + <p>Go to! I 'ave got other fish, in a manner of + speaking, to fry,</p> + + <p>That L.C.C. gave itself airs and declared it would + wipe my old heye</p> + + <p>With its bloomin' Big Pots and "Progressives." Aha! + where the doose are they now?</p> + + <p>Mister ROSEBERY resigned, regular sick of bad + manners and endless bow-wow;</p> + + <p>Now LIBBOCK and FARRER are orf. FARRER gave the + <i>Times</i> one in the eye,</p> + + <p>'Cos it seemed for to 'int even he of them precious + Progressives wos shy.</p> + + <p>Swears their manners is quite up to dick, most + consid'rit, and all that there stuff.</p> + + <p>Well they may 'ave been Brummels of course, but + <i>he seems to 'ave 'ad quite enough!</i></p> + + <p>'Owsomever, wotever the cause, now they're quit of + the Great Toffy Three,</p> + + <p>They must 'ave a new Chairman, in course, + and—ha! ha!—<i>wot</i> a hopening for + Me!!</p> + + <p>Porochial Bumble <i>must</i> rule, spite of fads, in + a steady and sane age,</p> + + <p>And 'aving a heye on High Orfice <i>I</i> can't + waste <i>my</i> time on mere Drainage!</p> + </div> + </div> + + <blockquote> + <p>[<i>Kicks Report, and strikes an attitude.</i></p> + </blockquote> + <hr /> + + <div class="figcenter" + style="width:70%;"> + <a href="images/171-1.png"><img width="100%" + src="images/171-1.png" + alt="TRUE LITERARY EXCLUSIVENESS." /></a> + + <h3>TRUE LITERARY EXCLUSIVENESS.</h3> + + <p>"DON'T YOU ADMIRE ROBERT BROWNING AS A POET, MR. + FITZSNOOK?"</p> + + <p>"I USED TO, ONCE; BUT <i>EVERYBODY</i> ADMIRES HIM NOW, + DON'TCHERKNOW—SO I'VE HAD TO GIVE HIM UP!"</p> + </div> + <hr /> + + <h3>Hide and Seek.</h3> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Ah! Pirate KID's Treasure <i>has</i> done good we + know,</p> + + <p>It suggested a rattling good story to POE.</p> + + <p>But the "Syndicate" started to seek where 'tis + hid,</p> + + <p>Will probably find that same + Treasure—"<i>all</i> KID!"</p> + </div> + </div> + <hr /> + + <h2>TEA IN TEN MINUTES.</h2> + + <h3>(A SONG AT A RAILWAY STATION.)</h3> + + <h4>Air—<i>"Thee, Thee, only Thee."</i></h4> + + <div class="figright" + style="width:35%;"> + <a href="images/171-2.png"><img width="100%" + src="images/171-2.png" + alt="Tea." /></a> + </div> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Ten minutes here! The sun is sinking</p> + + <p>And longingly we've long been thinking,</p> + + <p class="i6">Of Tea, Tea, fragrant Tea!</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>The marble slabs we gather round,</p> + + <p class="i2">They're long in bringing what is + wanted.</p> + + <p>The china cup with draught embrown'd</p> + + <p class="i2">Our thirsty souls are wholly haunted</p> + + <p class="i6">By Tea, Tea, fragrant Tea!</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Now then, you waiter, stir, awaken!</p> + + <p>Time's up. I'll hardly save my bacon.</p> + + <p class="i6">Tea, Tea, bring that Tea!</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>At last! The infusion's rayther dark.</p> + + <p class="i2">But hurry up! Can't stay for ever!</p> + + <p>One swig! Br-r-r-r! Hang the cunning shark!</p> + + <p class="i2">Will't never cool? Nay, never, never!</p> + + <p class="i6">Tea, Tea, scalding Tea!</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>More milk; don't be an hour in bringing!</p> + + <p>Heavens! That horrid bell is ringing!</p> + + <p class="i2">"Take your seats, please!" Can't + <i>touch</i> the Tea!</p> + + <p>Cup to the carriage must not take;</p> + + <p class="i2">Crockery may be lost, or broken;</p> + + <p>Refreshment sharks are wide awake.</p> + + <p class="i2">But—many a naughty word is + spoken</p> + + <p class="i6">O'er Tea, Tea, scalding Tea!</p> + </div> + </div> + <hr /> + + <p>NOTHING NEW.—The Editor of the <i>Gentlewoman</i> + announces a forthcoming novel to be written by about a dozen or + more novelists. <i>Mr. Punch</i> highly commends this spirited + enterprise. The scheme is not absolutely a novelty, as in + <i>Mr. Punch's</i> pages some time ago, was there not a + "Limited Novel Co." of Authors and Artists to produce "Chikkin + Hazard?" They combined, but did not collaborate. But any way, + success to the <i>Gentlewoman</i>!</p> + <hr /> + + <p>"WHERE IS DAT BARTY NOW?"—After the recent suicide of + <i>le pauvre Général</i>, the Boulangist party cannot be said + to have been left without leaders, at all events, in England, + as they have had leaders in all the papers, and actually two in + the <i>Times</i>.</p> + <hr /> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page172" + id="page172"></a>[pg 172]</span> + + <h2>THE TRAVELLING COMPANIONS.</h2> + + <h3>No. X.</h3> + + <blockquote> + <p>SCENE—<i>A flight of steps by the lake in the + grounds of the Insel Hotel, Constance. Time, late + afternoon. A small boat, containing three persons, is just + visible far out on the glassy grey-green water.</i> BOB + PRENDERGAST <i>and</i> PODBUBY <i>are perched side by side + on a parapet, smoking disconsolately.</i></p> + </blockquote> + + <p><i>Podbury.</i> Do they look at all as if they meant to come + in? I tell you what, BOB, vote we row out to them and tell them + they'll be late for <i>table d'hôte</i>. Eh? [<i>He knocks out + his pipe.</i></p> + + <p><i>Prendergast</i> (<i>phlegmatically</i>). Only be late for + it ourselves if we do. They'll come in when they want to.</p> + + <p><i>Podb.</i> It's not safe for your sister,—I'm hanged + if it is—going out in a boat with a duffer like CULCHARD! + He'll upset her as sure as eggs.</p> + + <p><i>Prend.</i> (<i>with fraternal serenity</i>). With + pin-oars? Couldn't if he tried! And they've a man with them, + too. The less I see of that chap CULCHARD the better. I did + hope we'd choked him off at Nuremberg. I hate the sight of his + supercilious old mug!</p> + + <p><i>Podb.</i> You can't hate it more than I do—but what + can I do? (<i>Pathetically.</i>) I've tried rotting him, but + somehow he always manages to get the best of it in the end. I + never saw such a beggar to hang on!</p> + + <div class="figright" + style="width:20%;"> + <a href="images/172.png"><img width="100%" + src="images/172.png" + alt="'Gets up and quits the room with dignity.'" /> + </a>"Gets up and quits the room with dignity." + </div> + + <p><i>Prend.</i> What on earth made you ask him to come on + here, after he declared he wouldn't?</p> + + <p><i>Podb.</i> I! <i>I</i> ask him? He settled it all with + your sister. How could <i>I</i> help it?</p> + + <p><i>Prend.</i> I'd do <i>something</i>. Why can't you tell + him right out he ain't wanted? <i>I</i> would—like a + shot!</p> + + <p><i>Podb.</i> It's not so easy to tell him as you think. We + haven't been on speaking terms these three days. And, after all + (<i>feebly</i>) we're supposed to be travelling together, don't + you know! <i>You</i> might drop him a hint now.</p> + + <p><i>Prend.</i> Don't see how I can very well—not on my + own hook. Might lead to ructions with HYPATIA, too.</p> + + <p><i>Podb.</i> (<i>anxiously</i>). BOB, you—you don't + think your sister really—eh?</p> + + <p><i>Prend.</i> HYPATIA's a rum girl—always was. She + certainly don't seem to object to your friend CULCHARD. What + the dickens she can see in him, I don't know!—but it's no + use my putting <i>my</i> oar in. She'd only jump on <i>me</i>, + y'know!</p> + + <p><i>Podb.</i> (<i>rising</i>). Then I <i>must</i>. If that's + what he's really after, I think I can stop his little game. + I'll try, at any rate. It's a long worm that has no turning, + and I've had about enough of it. The first chance I get. I'll + go for him.</p> + + <p><i>Prend.</i> Good luck to you, old chap. There, they're + coming in now. We'd better go in and change, eh? We've none too + much time.</p> + + <blockquote> + <p>[<i>They go in.</i></p> + + <p><i>In the Lese-zimmer, a small gaslit room, with glazed + doors opening upon the Musik-saal. Around a table piled with + German and English periodicals, a mild Curate, the Wife of the + English Chaplain, and two Old Maids are seated, reading and + conversing</i>. CULCHARD <i>is on a central ottoman, + conscientiously deciphering the jokes in "Fliegende + Blätter."</i> PODBURY <i>is at the bookcase, turning over + odd</i> TAUCHNITZ <i>volumes.</i></p> + </blockquote> + + <p><i>The Chaplain's Wife</i> (<i>to the</i> Curate, <i>a new + arrival</i>). Oh, you will <i>very</i> soon get into all our + little ways. The hours here are <i>most</i> + convenient—breakfast (<i>table d'hôte</i>) with choice of + eggs or fish and coffee—really <i>admirable</i> + coffee—from eight to nine; midday dinner at one. Supper + at nine. Then, if you want to write a letter, the post for + England goes out at—(<i>&c., &c.</i>) And on + Sundays, eleven o'clock service (Evangelical, of + <i>course</i>!) at the—(<i>&c., &c.</i>) My + husband—(<i>&c., &c.</i>)</p> + + <p><i>First Old Maid</i> (<i>looking up from a four days old + "Telegraph"</i>). I see they are still continuing that very + interesting correspondence on "Our Children's Mouths—and + are they widening?" One letter attributes it to the habit of + thumb—sucking in infancy—which certainly ought to + be checked. Now I never <i>would</i> allow any—</p> + + <p><i>The Chaplain's Wife</i>. Nor I. But corals are quite as + bad. Only this afternoon I was telling a Lady in this hotel + that her little boy would be much happier with a rubber ring. + You get them at a shop in the Hoch-strasse I can take you to it + at any time, or if you like to mention my + name—(<i>&c., &c.</i>)</p> + + <p><i>Second O.M.</i> One correspondent thought the practice of + eating soup with table-spoons tended to enlarge the mouth. I + really believe there may be something in it. [<i>A + pause.</i></p> + + <p><i>The Curate</i>. The weather we have been having seems to + have materially affected the harvest prospects at home; they + say there will be little or no fodder for the cattle this year. + I saw somewhere—I forget where it was exactly—a + suggestion to feed cows on chickweed.</p> + + <p><i>Podb.</i> (<i>at the bookcase</i>). Capital thing for + them too, Sir. Know a man who never gives his cattle anything + else.</p> + + <p><i>The Curate</i>. Oh, really? And does he find the + experiment answer?</p> + + <p><i>Podb.</i> They take to it like birds. And—curious + thing—after he'd tried it a month, all the cows turned + yellow and went about chirping and twittering and hopping. + Fact, I assure you!</p> + + <p><i>The Curate</i>. Dear me—I should scarcely + have—</p> + + <blockquote> + <p>[<i>He gradually comes to the conclusion that he is + being trifled with, and after a few moments of + uncomfortable silence, gets up and quits the room with + dignity.</i></p> + </blockquote> + + <p><i>Podb.</i> (<i>to himself</i>). <i>One</i> of 'em gone! + Now if I can only clear these old tabbies out, I can tackle + CULCHARD. (<i>Aloud, to</i> Chaplain's Wife.) You don't happen + to know if there's a good doctor here, I suppose? A lady was + saying in the Musik-saal—the lady with the three + daughters who came this afternoon—that she was afraid + they were in for bad feverish colds or something, and asking + who there was to call in.</p> + + <p><i>The C.'s W.</i> Oh, I've no belief in foreign doctors. I + always find a few drops of aconite or pulsatilla,—I have + my homoeopathic case with me now. Perhaps, if I went and had a + talk with her I could—[<i>She goes out + energetically.</i></p> + + <p><i>Podb.</i> Another gone! (<i>To the</i> Old Maids.) So you + ain't going down to the Cloisters to-night? I'm told there's to + be some fun there—Hide-and-seek, or + something—first-rate place for it, especially now the + moon's up!</p> + + <p><i>First Old Maid</i>. Nobody told <i>us</i> a word about + it. Hide-and-seek—and in those quaint old Cloisters + too—It sounds delightful! What do you say, TABITHA. Shall + we just—? Only to look <i>on</i>, you know. We needn't + <i>play</i>, unless—</p> + + <blockquote> + <p>[<i>The</i> Two Old Maids <i>withdraw in a pleased + flutter.</i> PODBURY <i>crosses to</i> CULCHARD.</p> + </blockquote> + + <p><i>Podb.</i> (<i>with determination</i>). Look here, + CULCHARD, I'd just like to know what you mean by the way you're + going on.</p> + + <p><i>Culch.</i> I thought we were both agreed that discussions + of this kind—</p> + + <p><i>Podb.</i> It's all bosh our travelling together if we're + not to have any discussions. You've been on the sulk long + enough. And I'll thank you to inform me what you're after here, + going about alone with Miss PRENDERGAST like this, in the + Museum with her all the morning, and on the lake again this + afternoon,—it won't <i>do</i>, you know!</p> + + <p><i>Culch.</i> If she happens to prefer my society to yours + and her brother's, I presume you have no claim to + interfere.</p> + + <p><i>Podb.</i> I don't know about that. How about Miss + TROTTER?</p> + + <p><i>Culch.</i> If I remember rightly, you yourself were not + insensible to Miss TROTTER's—er—attractions?</p> + + <p><i>Podb.</i> Perhaps not; but I am not engaged to + her—you <i>are</i>. You told me so in the train.</p> + + <p><i>Culch.</i> You entirely misunderstood me. There was no + definite understanding between us—nothing of the sort or + kind. In fact, it was merely a passing caprice. Since I have + had the privilege of knowing Miss PRENDERGAST, I see + clearly—</p> + + <p><i>Podb.</i> Then you mean to propose to her, eh?</p> + + <p><i>Culch.</i> That is certainly my intention; have you any + objection to offer?</p> + + <p><i>Podb.</i> Only that I mean to propose too. I daresay my + chances are as good as yours—even now.</p> + + <p><i>Culch.</i> I doubt it, my dear fellow; however, don't let + <i>me</i> discourage you.</p> + + <p><i>Podb.</i> I don't intend to. (<i>The figure of</i> Miss + PRENDERGAST <i>is seen to pass the glazed doors, and move + slowly across the Musik-saal; both rush to the door, and look + after her.</i>) She's gone out into the balcony. 'Jove, I'll + go, too, and get it over!</p> + + <p><i>Culch.</i> I should not advise you to do so. It is + possible she may have gone there with + the—er—expectation of being joined by—by + somebody else. [<i>He smiles complacently.</i></p> + + <p><i>Podb.</i> You mean she gave you a <i>rendezvous</i> + there? I don't believe it!</p> + + <p><i>Culch.</i> I did not say so. But I am not prepared to + deny that I have been waiting here with some such + expectation.</p> + + <p><i>Podb.</i> (<i>holding the door</i>). If you go, I go + too—that's all.</p> + + <p><i>Culch.</i> Don't be absurd. You will only be <i>de + trop</i>, I assure you.</p> + + <p><i>Podb.</i> <i>De trop</i> or not, I mean going—she + shall choose between us.</p> + + <p><i>Culch.</i> (<i>turning pale</i>). I suppose you intend to + enlighten her as to my—er—little flirtation (before + I knew <i>her</i>) with Miss TROTTER? Do it, PODBURY, do + it—if you think you'll gain any good by + it!</p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page173" + id="page173"></a>[pg 173]</span> + + <p><i>Podb.</i> Telling tales is not exactly in my line. But + you don't go on that balcony without me—that's all.</p> + + <p><i>Culch.</i> Well, listen to reason, my dear fellow. What + you propose is ridiculous. I—I don't mind conceding this: + we'll each go, and—er tit up, as you call it, which goes + first.</p> + + <p><i>Podb.</i> Done with you! (<i>Produces a mark.</i>) Sudden + death. You're Eagle—I'm the other Johnny. + (<i>Tosses.</i>) Eagle! Confound you! But I mean to have my + innings all the same.</p> + + <p><i>Culch.</i> You're perfectly welcome—when I've had + mine. I'll—er—wish you good evening.</p> + + <blockquote> + <p>[<i>He stalks out triumphantly.</i> PODBURY <i>places + himself in a position from which he can command a view of + the Musik-saal, over the top of "über Land und Meer," and + awaits results.</i></p> + </blockquote> + <hr /> + + <h2>STORICULES.</h2> + + <h3>VI.—BUDWELL'S REVENGE.</h3> + + <p>My friend, THOMAS GIDLING, is something indefinite and + authoritative in the Post Office. He is a practical man. He can + do fretwork, cook a steak, clean boots, find out what's wrong + with the gas, and understand Waterloo Station; in an emergency + he is invaluable. This is just as well, because destiny has + decided that the life of THOMAS GIDLING shall be a series of + emergencies. He has comfortable bachelor quarters at the very + top of Parkington Chambers, which are situated in + Bloomsbury.</p> + + <div class="figleft" + style="width:35%;"> + <a href="images/173-1.png"><img width="100%" + src="images/173-1.png" + alt="Budwell's Revenge." /></a> + </div> + + <p>One night last winter I had been dining with GIDLING at his + Club; after dinner he proposed that we should go round to his + flat for a talk and a smoke. GIDLING, being practical, can make + coffee, which is a thing that they cannot do at GIDLING's Club, + nor, indeed, at many others. So I consented.</p> + + <p>We had climbed painfully to the top of Parkington Chambers, + and had just got inside GIDLING's outer door, when we noticed a + very marked and curious smell. "There's something wrong about + this," remarked GIDLING, severely. I agreed with him, adding, + out of a nervous politeness, from which I suffer sometimes, + that I rather liked the smell, "Then you're an idiot," said + GIDLING, who never suffers from politeness at all. He opened + the door of his sitting-room, and then we saw at once what was + the matter. The lower part of the chimney was on fire; the + fire-place was covered with glowing masses of soot which had + fallen. "HANKIN's had another nasty touch of that influenza," + remarked GIDLING. HANKIN is GIDLING's servant, and at regular + intervals becomes incapacitated for work. HANKIN himself says + that it is influenza, and speaks of "another of them relapses;" + GIDLING thinks that it is as a rule intoxication. As a matter + of fact HANKIN would not be a bad servant if his zeal was + distributed over him rather more evenly. It is always either + excessive or defective. It comes out in lumps. In neglecting to + have the chimney swept HANKIN had shown defect; in the way that + he had piled up the fire he had shown excess. In subsequently + absenting himself from the flat he had shown a certain amount + of wisdom, for GIDLING was rather angry.</p> + + <p>"Not but what I can put it all right," said GIDLING. "I'm a + practical man. Fire Brigade? I thought you'd suggest a few fire + brigades. No, not exactly. I'll show you how to stop a thing of + this kind." He went into his bed-room, and returned with the + water-jug. An iron ladder from the main staircase led through a + trap-door in the roof. GIDLING went up this ladder with the + water-jug, while I waited to see the result in the + sitting-room, I could hear him walking about on the roof, and I + looked out for a deluge of water to descend down the chimney + into the fire-place. But no deluge came. Presently GIDLING + descended and entered the room with the empty water-jug.</p> + + <p>"Did it splash much?" he asked. "No, there was no water came + down at all."</p> + + <p>"Oh? Then I've emptied this water-jug down the wrong + chimney. We'd better clear out of this."</p> + + <p>At this juncture HANKIN returned, and GIDLING said a good + deal to him. HANKIN was left to put out the fire, and we went + back again to the Club. GIDLING seemed rather annoyed with me + for laughing about his mistake.</p> + + <p>"It's a deuced awkward thing," he said. "That water went + down somebody's chimney, and it's put somebody's fire out. That + means unpleasantness, you know, if he or she finds out who did + it."</p> + + <p>"Who live in the flats below yours?" I asked.</p> + + <p>"An Art-student and her mother in the flat below + mine—they are really most charming people, and I hope to + goodness it wasn't their chimney that I poured the water down. + I'm on rather friendly terms with them. Then on the first floor + there's BUDWELL. He's a conceited affected ape. I only hope it + was he who got the benefit of that water-jug. It's rather + amusing, you know. BUDWELL's very much in love with Miss VANE + (that's the Art-student), and she loathes him—at least I + believe so. Poor beggar!" GIDLING laughed, sarcastically. "Yes, + I hope that was BUDWELL's chimney, not the other."</p> + + <p>It turned out afterwards that it <i>was</i> BUDWELL's + chimney, and he found out that it was GIDLING who had done the + deed. So BUDWELL determined on revenge. He climbed up on to the + roof with a large bath-can of water, intending to empty it down + GIDLING's chimney. Chimneys ought to be labelled. The whole of + the contents of that can descended into Mrs. VANE's fireplace. + BUDWELL called and apologised, but it was of no use. They + considered it mean of BUDWELL to take revenge for what was only + a mistake on GIDLING's part; and they were not very well + pleased at having their own fire put out. "A chimney's not the + place for a cataract, you know, Mr. BUDWELL," said Miss + VANE.</p> + + <p>BUDWELL went back to his own flat and brooded over his + misfortunes. He had now grown still more angry with GIDLING, + which was irrational of him; and he determined to take a still + fiercer revenge. Late at night he conveyed the bath-can and + several jugs, all full of water, on to the roof. There was no + fear of his selecting Mrs. VANE's chimney by mistake this time. + One by one he emptied the jugs and the water-can, and then + descended to his own flat, fiendishly triumphant, as he thought + of the havoc he must have made in GIDLING's fire-place.</p> + + <p>But when he got to his own flat, he found that he had + emptied all that water down his own chimney.</p> + + <p>After that he gave up his revenges, together with his + affections and his apartments. But GIDLING tells the story with + considerable unction; the facts of it were partly derived from + BUDWELL's servant and partly from Miss VANE—with whom + GIDLING is beginning to be on more than friendly terms.</p> + <hr /> + + <h2>INTERNATIONAL NURSERY-TALE CONGRESS.</h2> + + <p>The Chair was taken by Mr. JOHN HORNER, P.R.I.N.T.C., lineal + descendant of the celebrated "Jack" of that ilk.</p> + + <div class="figright" + style="width:22%;"> + <a href="images/173-2.png"><img width="100%" + src="images/173-2.png" + alt="International Nursery-Tale Congress." /></a> + </div> + + <p>The President said he had no desire to waste the meeting's + valuable time. He would at once address himself (and the + company present) to the myth, if myth it could be called, which + had immortalised his own name. Need he say he alluded to the + legend of "Little Jack Horner"? (<i>Cheers.</i>) Some + commentators are of opinion that "HORNER." was a typographical + error for "HOMER." But the prefix; and the epithet combined to + militate against this ingenious and plausible, but specious, + theory. "HOMER" was not in any sense "Little," nor was his + Pagan name "JACK." Again, "Corner," in the second line, could + not in any language have ever rhymed with "HOMER." He knew that + "Cromer" furnished them with a rhyme for "HOMER;" but if this + were accepted, what became of the ancient Greek, of the Syriac, + of the Phoenician, of the Nimrodic legends, nay, of the very + <i>Iliad</i> itself, if "HOMER" were a native of "Cromer"? + (<i>Loud and prolonged cheers.</i>) No! "Jack Horner," or, as + it was originally written, "Jakorna," was of Scandinavian + origin, and it was, in all probability, a mythmic + rhyth—No, beg pardon, he should say a rhythmic myth + (<i>Cheers</i>) sung by a wandering Sam Oar Troupe on their + visiting Egypt and the Provinces before the time of the + Celtic-Phoenician O'SIRIS, or at least before the reign of + RAMESES THE FIRST, ancestor of the great Scotch RAMSEY + family—(<i>Cheers</i>)—at one of the social + entertainments given on a non-hunting day by that eminent + sportsman NIMROD. Then came the question of where was "the + corner" in which Jakorna secluded himself? Of course, + Christmas, as differentiating this pie from all others, was a + modern substitution. The original word was probably "Kosmik." + (<i>The lecture was still proceeding when our Reporter left, + the dryness of the subject having unfortunately affected his + throat.</i>)</p> + <hr /> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page174" + id="page174"></a>[pg 174]</span> + + <div class="figcenter" + style="width:100%;"> + <a href="images/174.png"><img width="100%" + src="images/174.png" + alt="A CONNOISSEUR." /></a> + + <h3>A CONNOISSEUR.</h3> + + <p><i>Sir Pompey Bedell.</i> "THIS BOTTLE OF ROMANÉE-CONTI + SEEMS RATHER CLOUDY, BROWN! IT <i>OUGHT</i> TO BE ALL + RIGHT. I KNOW IT STANDS ME IN <i>TWELVE GUINEAS A + DOZEN!</i>"</p> + + <p><i>The New Butler.</i> "THERE CERTAINLY <i>HIS</i> SOME + SEDIMENT, SIR POMPEY; BUT IT'S OF NO CONSEQUENCE WHATEVER! + I TRIED A BOTTLE OF IT <i>MYSELF</i> THE OTHER DAY, AND + FOUND IT FIRST-RATE!"</p> + </div> + <hr /> + + <h2>"WHAT WILL HE DO WITH IT?"</h2> + + <blockquote class="note"> + <p>["The 'tehorni narod'—the inconceivably ill-used, + patient, long-suffering 'black people,' as the moujiks of + White Russia are grimly denominated by their + rulers—are dying by thousands, of sheer starvation, + without a hand being stretched out by the 'Tchin' to rescue + them from the greedy jaws of Death."—<i>Daily + Telegraph</i>.</p> + + <p>The moujiks are remonstrating and even rebelling in + consequence.]</p> + </blockquote> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>"Little Father," we have suffered long, and + sorrowed,</p> + + <p class="i2">We the "children" of the wonderful White + Tsar,</p> + + <p>Steadfast patience from staunch loyalty have + borrowed,</p> + + <p class="i2">Slaved for Slavdom still in Peace, and + died in War;</p> + + <p>We have borne the yoke of power, and its abuses,</p> + + <p class="i2">We have trusted cells and shackles served + their turn;</p> + + <p>Nay, that e'en the ruthless knout had noble + uses;</p> + + <p class="i4">Now we starve—and think—and + burn.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>"Little Father," is your power then so paternal</p> + + <p class="i2">As in pious proclamation is set + forth?</p> + + <p>If the round earth bears a brand of the + infernal,</p> + + <p class="i2">Does the trail of it not taint our native + North?</p> + + <p>Ay, we love it as in truth we've ever loved it.</p> + + <p class="i2">Our devotion, poorly paid, is firm and + strong;</p> + + <p>Have our little pitied miseries not proved it,</p> + + <p class="i4">And our weary tale of wrong?</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>"Little Father," we are hungering now, + neglected,</p> + + <p class="i2">While the foreigner shouts praises in our + ports;</p> + + <p>We are honoured, say your scribes, loved, feared, + respected,</p> + + <p class="i2">The proud Frank, we fought for you, your + friendship courts.</p> + + <p>The golden price of it you hug most gladly.</p> + + <p class="i2">Well, that price, what is its destined + end and aim?</p> + + <p>The indulgence of ambitions cherished madly?</p> + + <p class="i4">The pursuit of warrior fame?</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Your realm is ever widening, Tsar, and + lengthening,</p> + + <p class="i2">Though its peoples—your dear + children—prosper not;</p> + + <p>Railways stretching, boundaries creeping, legions + strengthening!</p> + + <p class="i2">And the end, O Tsar, + is—where?—the purpose—what?</p> + + <p>The Afghan, Tartar, Turk feel your advancing,</p> + + <p class="i2">The Persian and the Mongol hear your + tread,</p> + + <p>And an eager watchful eye is eastward glancing</p> + + <p class="i4">Where the Lion lifts his head.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>And your children, "Little Father"? They are + lying</p> + + <p class="i2">In their thousands at your threshold, + waiting death.</p> + + <p>Gold you gather whilst your foodless thralls are + dying!</p> + + <p class="i2">Is appeal, oh Great White Tsar, but + wasted breath?</p> + + <p>On armaments aggressive are you spending</p> + + <p class="i2">What might solace the "black people" + midst their dead?</p> + + <p>Of the millions the effusive Frank is lending</p> + + <p class="i4">Is there <i>nothing</i> left for + bread?</p> + </div> + </div> + <hr /> + + <h3>BOUILLABAISSE.</h3> + + <blockquote class="note"> + <p>[There has been some correspondence lately about + Bouillabaisse, and a writer in the <i>Evening News</i> (who + misquotes THACKERAY) actually gives a recipe without + oil!]</p> + </blockquote> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Our THACKERAY in ancient days,</p> + + <p class="i2">Wrote of a very famous dish,</p> + + <p>And said in stanzas in its praise,</p> + + <p class="i2">'Twas made of several kinds of fish.</p> + + <p>A savoury stew it is indeed,</p> + + <p class="i2">And he's "in comfortable case"</p> + + <p>Who finds before him at his need</p> + + <p class="i2">A smoking dish of Bouillabaisse.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>And now folks laud that dish again,</p> + + <p class="i2">And o'er it raise a pretty coil,</p> + + <p>While one rash man we see with pain,</p> + + <p class="i2">Would dare to make it minus oil.</p> + + <p>Oh! shade of TERRÉ, you no doubt</p> + + <p class="i2">Would make once more the "droll + grimace,"</p> + + <p>At such a savage, who left out</p> + + <p class="i2">The olive oil, in Bouillabaisse.</p> + </div> + </div> + <hr /> + + <p>"THOUGHT-WAVES." (<i>By an Un-Esoteric.</i>)—The + Theosophists talk mistily about "the concentration of + mind-force on a thought-wave"—which seems only another + way of saying that such minds are, at the time, "quite at + sea."</p> + <hr /> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page175" + id="page175"></a>[pg 175]</span> + + <div class="figcenter" + style="width:100%;"> + <a href="images/175.png"><img width="100%" + src="images/175.png" + alt="'WHAT WILL HE DO WITH IT?'" /></a> + + <h3>"WHAT WILL HE DO WITH IT?"</h3>STARVING RUSSIAN + PEASANT. "IS NONE OF THAT FOR <i>ME</i>, 'LITTLE FATHER'?" + </div> + <hr /> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page177" + id="page177"></a>[pg 177]</span> + + <div class="figcenter" + style="width:60%;"> + <a href="images/177.png"><img width="100%" + src="images/177.png" + alt="FANCY PORTRAIT." /></a> + + <h3>FANCY PORTRAIT.</h3>SIR W.V. HARCOURT,<br /> + <i>THE</i> "ODD FELLOW" OUT. + </div> + <hr /> + + <h2>MONEY MAKES THE MAN.</h2> + + <blockquote> + <p>(<i>A Fragment from a Romance dedicated by Mr. Punch to + Mr. Diggle.</i>)</p> + </blockquote> + + <p>"It is entirely your own fault," said the intruder, as he + put another silver tea-pot in his bag.</p> + + <p>"I don't see that at all," replied the master of the house, + moving uneasily in his chair.</p> + + <p>"Well, I have not time to argue with you," returned the + other, as he held up an enamelled ship of beautiful + workmanship. "Dear me, this is really very fine. I have never + seen anything like it before! What is it?"</p> + + <p>"I got it at a sale in Derbyshire. I fancy it must be + something like the old Battersea enamel."</p> + + <p>"Very fine! And solid silver, too! Well, in all my + experience, and I have been in the profession some twenty + years, I have seen nothing like it. Beautiful! Lovely!"</p> + + <p>"If you had not tied my hands behind my back," explained the + master of the house, "I could show you, by lifting that lid, + you would see prettier subjects in the interior of the + vessel."</p> + + <p>"You certainly tempt me," answered the intruder, "to give + you an increased facility in moving. But it is against my + rules. I always work in a methodical manner, and one of my + regulations is, before I open the safe, I must bind the master + of the house hand and foot in an arm-chair. But what were we + talking about?"</p> + + <p>"You were saying," returned the other, with a sigh, "that it + was my own fault that I find myself in this painful, this + ruinous position. As a man of education I cannot see how you + can advance such a proposition."</p> + + <p>"But that's the point. I am <i>not</i> a man of education. I + don't know how to play the piano, and can scarcely manage a + free-hand sketch of a cathedral. My Greek is shaky, and I speak + French and German with an accent enough to drive a linguist + mad. No, no, you take my word for it—this little incident + would never have happened had you behaved wisely, and like a + public-spirited citizen."</p> + + <p>"What do you mean?" asked the householder.</p> + + <p>"Why, this, that if you had paid more to the School Board, I + would have received a better education, and have never been a + housebreaker. As it is, I am only making up the difference + between the sum you have paid, and the sum you should have + expended."</p> + + <p>And the burglar, helping himself to another silver tea-pot, + continued his lucrative work.</p> + <hr /> + + <h3>THE MUSIC OF THE SPHERES.</h3> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>The "true sphere of woman"—so HARRISON + says—</p> + + <p>In effect—is the family circle. Some + praise;</p> + + <p>But to geometricians it strange may appear,</p> + + <p>For a "circle" is only a <i>part</i> of a + "sphere."</p> + + <p>Since woman appeared at the wickets, some think</p> + + <p>(Though male cricketers from the conclusion may + shrink),</p> + + <p>That the true "sphere" of woman must be, after + all,</p> + + <p>A leathern one—typed by a new + cricket-ball.</p> + + <p>Young girls think a "Ball" of another guess sort</p> + + <p>Is the sphere in which woman may find truest + sport.</p> + + <p>To harmonise all these opinions, 'tis clear,</p> + + <p>Is hard; but, whatever be woman's true sphere,</p> + + <p>Whether found in the dictum of "Positive" + HARRISON,</p> + + <p>And what ladies call his "degrading comparison,"</p> + + <p>Or otherwhere,—this will be certainly + found,</p> + + <p>If you'll let angry women alone they'll "come + <i>round</i>."</p> + </div> + </div> + <hr /> + + <p>"THE MAN FOR THE POST."—Sir JAMES FERGUSSON.</p> + <hr /> + + <h2>TALK FOR TRAVELLERS.</h2> + + <blockquote class="note"> + <p>["The German officials at the frontier, since the + relaxation of the passport regulations, have been ordered + to treat foreign passengers with every + politeness."—<i>Daily Papers</i>.]</p> + </blockquote> + + <p>Mein Herr, will you do us the honour to descend from the + railway-carriage? It will be merely a matter of form. We need + not disturb those gracious ladies, your wife and daughters.</p> + + <p>This is the best way to the Customs. You will notice that we + have swept the path that leads to the door.</p> + + <p>Certainly, these arm-chairs are for the use of passengers. + We have placed them there ourselves, and can recommend + them.</p> + + <p>Is it asking too great a favour to beg you to lend me the + keys of your boxes? A hundred thousand thanks.</p> + + <p>Your explanation is absolutely satisfactory. You are + bringing these sixteen unopened boxes of cigars home for your + grandmother. It is a most proper thing to do, and, under the + circumstances, the duty will be remitted.</p> + + <p>And these three hundred yards of lace of various makes and + ages? An heir-loom! Indeed! Then, of course, the packet must + pass duty-free.</p> + + <p>As we have found nothing of consequence in this portmanteau + of yours, it will be unnecessary to search the nineteen boxes + of that gracious lady, your wife. No doubt she has obeyed your + instruction not to smuggle. We are absolutely satisfied with + your explanations, and are greatly obliged to you for your + kindness and condescension.</p> + + <p>This is the way to the carriage. We have placed steps before + the door, as without a platform it is difficult to ascend.</p> + + <p>No, Mein Herr, it is utterly impossible! We are forbidden by + the EMPEROR himself to accept a gratuity.</p> + + <p>Yes, Madam, it is indeed without charge. Do not tempt us. + Instant dismissal is the penalty.</p> + + <p>Certainly, Mein Herr, you could get the same politeness + before the EMPEROR issued his Imperial instructions.</p> + + <p>But then the charge was a thaler!</p> + <hr /> + + <h3>THE GREAT TWIN BRETHREN.</h3> + + <blockquote class="note"> + <p>["I do not wish to call Mr. GLADSTONE by a name which + would be both tasteless and pointless."—<i>Mr. A.V. + Dicey's Letter to the Times.</i>]</p> + </blockquote> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Tasteless and pointless, DICEY? Well, the time + <i>is</i> out of joint,</p> + + <p>And you were born to set it right, though <i>not</i> + with "taste" and "point."</p> + + <p>We cannot all do all things, Sir, and if you save + the State</p> + + <p>(As the great Twin Brethren mean to in despite of + HARCOURT's hate),</p> + + <p>What <i>does</i> it matter, DICEY, if your letters + are not quite</p> + + <p>In that style epistolary, which our fathers called + "polite"?</p> + + <p>'Tis a little too meticulous—in you—and + rather late,</p> + + <p>After giving Mr. GLADSTONE such a wholesome slashing + "slate."</p> + + <p>Take heart of grace, dear DICEY, and don't let Sir + WILLIAM's "point"</p> + + <p>In your tough (if tasteless) armour find a + vulnerable joint.</p> + + <p>"Old Timbertoes" won't trouble, Sir, to wish that + <i>you</i> were dead,</p> + + <p>And his taste (<i>not</i> point) forbids him to call + you "Old Wooden-head!"</p> + </div> + </div> + <hr /> + + <h3>Keep Watch!</h3> + + <blockquote class="note"> + <p>[A Visitor fishing off Deal Pier brought up a gold watch + and chain on his hook. It is supposed to be one lost by a + resident, but the lucky angler has not been seen + since.]</p> + </blockquote> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Paradoxical portent! Most worthy of rhyme</p> + + <p>Is this fortunate angler who tried to kill time.</p> + + <p>Fate made him the offer, and, wisely, he book'd + it;</p> + + <p>He not only killed time, but he caught it,—and + "hook'd it."</p> + </div> + </div> + <hr /> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page178" + id="page178"></a>[pg 178]</span> + + <div class="figcenter" + style="width:100%;"> + <a href="images/178.png"><img width="100%" + src="images/178.png" + alt="MR. PUNCH VISITS SCARBOROUGH SPA." /></a> + + <h3>MR. PUNCH VISITS SCARBOROUGH SPA.</h3> + </div> + <hr /> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page179" + id="page179"></a>[pg 179]</span> + + <h3>BOULANGER.</h3> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>So high he floated, that he seemed to climb;</p> + + <p>The bladder blown by chance was burst by time.</p> + + <p>Falsely-earned fame fools bolstered at the urns;</p> + + <p>The mob which reared the god the idol burns.</p> + + <p>To cling one moment nigh to power's crest,</p> + + <p>Then, earthward flung, sink to oblivion's rest</p> + + <p>Self-sought, 'midst careless acquiescence, seems</p> + + <p>Strange fate, e'en for a thing of schemes and + dreams;</p> + + <p>But CÆSAR's simulacrum, seen by day,</p> + + <p>Scarce envious CASCA's self would stoop to slay,</p> + + <p>And mounting mediocrity, once o'erthrown,</p> + + <p>Need fear—or hope—no dagger save its + own.</p> + </div> + </div> + <hr /> + + <p>FROM BRIGHT TO DULL.—In an interesting article on + artificial reproductions of Nature's treasures, the + <i>Standard</i> remarked that "Real diamonds have been turned + out of the chemist's retorts." What a brilliant chemist he must + have been! Probably of Hibernian origin, as among + conversational sparklers there are few on record more brilliant + than "Irish Diamonds." Stay, though! If the real diamonds were + "turned out of the chemist's retorts," then his retorts, + without these flashes of brilliancy, must have been a trifle + dull, and he is no longer the chemist we took him for. "But," + to quote our KIPLING, "that is another story."</p> + <hr /> + + <h3>The New Evangel.</h3> + + <blockquote class="note"> + <p>[M. ZOLA, in his new Novel, glorifies War, and the + regenerative mission of human bloodshed.]</p> + </blockquote> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>"ZOLA on War," intensifies the "Hola!"</p> + + <p>Of purists who are all for "war on ZOLA!"</p> + + <p>Well, he whose pen is touched with tints from + Tophet,</p> + + <p>Is the right man to pose as Red War's Prophet!</p> + </div> + </div> + <hr /> + + <p>A TRIFLE FOR <i>THE BUILDER</i>.—"When are houses like + difficulties?" And the practical man replies, "When they have + to be 'faced.'"</p> + <hr /> + + <div class="figcenter" + style="width:65%;"> + <a href="images/179-1.png"><img width="100%" + src="images/179-1.png" + alt="THE RULING PASSION STRONG AT DINNER." /></a> + + <h3>THE RULING PASSION STRONG AT DINNER.</h3> + + <p><i>Laconic Waiter</i> (<i>thoroughly familiar with + Sporting Major's taste in Champagne</i>). "SEVENTY-FOUR, + SIR?"</p> + + <p><i>Sporting Major</i> (<i>down on his luck, after a bad + week at Newmarket</i>). "SEVEN-TO-FOUR, SIR! DASH IT! + WOULDN'T TAKE TEN TO ONE ABOUT ANYTHING!"</p> + </div> + <hr /> + + <h2>OUR BOOKING-OFFICE.</h2> + + <div class="figright" + style="width:22%;"> + <a href="images/179-2.png"><img width="100%" + src="images/179-2.png" + alt="The Baron's Assistant Reader." /></a> + </div> + + <p>"Respected ANDREW LANG," writes the Baron's Assistant + Reader, "I have read your criticism in <i>Longman's + Magazine</i> upon Mr. BARRY PAIN's <i>In a Canadian Canoe</i>. + It's an ugly piece of bludgeon work, I admit, but not + convincing to anyone who has read the book of which you speak. + You tear away a line or two from the context, and ask your + readers to say if <i>that</i> is wit or humour. How your + admirers would have protested had any sacrilegious critic + ventured to treat one of your own immortal works in this + manner. <i>Essays in Little</i>, a book which, by the way, + appeared in the same series for which Mr. BARRY PAIN wrote, is + a pleasant and inoffensive compilation, but even <i>Essays in + Little</i> would have presented a sorry appearance if, let us + say, ANDREW LANG had reviewed it in this perfunctory and + extractory and arbitrary fashion. I remember that in that case + the critics were respectfully enthusiastic. Even Mr. BLUDYER + would have doffed his cap, I fancy, to one</p> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Who rhymes, researches and reviews,</p> + + <p>Who sometimes writes like Genesis,</p> + + <p>And sometimes in the <i>Daily News</i>.</p> + </div> + </div> + + <p>For, after all, you stand high in the journalistic world. + Your opinion passes current in many a select circle. Not even + your vagaries seem to have power to offend the worshippers to + whom your word has long been a law, whether you spoke of golf, + of salmon, of folk-lore or of books. The censure of a BLUDYER + (I wonder what has brought that formidable name to my mind) can + do little to discourage you. But Mr. BARRY PAIN is a young + writer. And yet some one remarked that <i>In a Canadian + Canoe</i> was better even than <i>Essays in Little</i>, and the + audacious words were actually printed in a journal to which + ANDREW LANG is an occasional contributor. I myself have never + dared to go so far. There is something sacred about an + established reputation. And I can honestly say that I like the + elegant airy trifles which your little Muse has bestowed upon + us, though I confess to a weariness when the talk is too much + of golf-clubs and salmon rods. And I admire your appreciation + of the original work of other men. In the present case you and + I disagree upon a question of taste. That is all. <i>Tant pis + pour moi</i>, I hasten to add. But I disagree in good company, + for I note with some amusement, that the PAYN whom you rightly + praise, has a kind and encouraging word for the PAIN whom you + so vehemently disparage. And in this case I will stake my all + upon the eulogy of JAMES PAYN as against the censure of ANDREW + LANG. As you did me the honour to refer to something I had + written, I thought myself bound in politeness to reply, and + am</p> + + <p class="author">Your obedient servant,</p> + + <p class="author">AN A.R. IN THE B. DE B.-W.'s OFFICE."</p> + <hr /> + + <h3>A Straight Tip to Canadian "Cross Coves."</h3> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>'Tis nice "in a Canadian Canoe"</p> + + <p class="i2">To practise what the ribald call + "canoodling;"</p> + + <p>But what the deuce does the Dominion do,</p> + + <p class="i2">"In <i>this</i> galley," with this new + game of "boodling?"</p> + + <p>"Paddle your own Canoe," dear, if you will,</p> + + <p>But kick all "cross coves" out, and trust to honest + skill.</p> + </div> + </div> + <hr /> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page180" + id="page180"></a>[pg 180]</span> + + <h2>JOURNAL OF A ROLLING STONE.</h2> + + <h3>TENTH ENTRY.</h3> + + <p>DICK FIBBINS, my more or less "learned" instructor in + practical law, goes out to a good many evening parties, I find. + Casually remarks that he "danced three square dances, the other + night, with old DAVIS's ugly daughter, the Solor (legal slang + for Solicitor), in Caraway Street." It's DAVIS himself, not the + daughter, that is the Solicitor, and, it seems she introduced + the gay FIBBINS to her Papa. Hence another brief, a rather + complicated one, on some dispute about a mortgage.</p> + + <div class="figleft" + style="width:37%;"> + <a href="images/180-1.png"><img width="100%" + src="images/180-1.png" + alt="'Old Proser.'" /></a> + </div> + + <p>On the morning when the case is to come into Court, DICK the + Brief-hunter, who has promised to take me there, seems nervous. + Yet he is still confident that, if "old PROSER" is the judge, + he will "pull the thing off." It will be, apparently, a case of + "Pull FIBBINS, pull PROSER."</p> + + <p>In Court I occupy a seat just behind him, because—as + he observes—I've been "grinding away at the case, and + know the subject down to the ground"—which I don't think + <i>he</i> does. I therefore am to act as his reserves, also as + his prompter, and to supply him with the names of cases which + he has forgotten, and which he wishes to quote. Rather a + responsible position. Should feel more confidence in result if + FIBBINS had told me of this prompter arrangement before the + very morning when the trial comes on.</p> + + <p>"Old PROSER," appears to my untutored gaze to be rather a + dignified occupant of the Bench. I don't know whether he + cherishes any personal or professional animosity against DICK + FIBBINS, but directly the latter opens his mouth to begin, + PROSER seems inclined to jump down it.</p> + + <p>"A complicated case of foreclosure?" he growls. "You needn't + tell us that. All foreclosure cases are complicated. <i>I</i> + ever saw one yet that wasn't."</p> + + <p>FIBBINS goes along unimpeded for a minute or two, PROSER + having thrown himself back with an air of resigned inattention, + one of the other Judges taking furtive notes, and the third + resting his elbows on his desk, and his head on his elbows, and + eyeing <i>me</i> with a stony and meaningless stare. Can he + suddenly have gone mad?</p> + + <p>I have no time to consider this interesting point, as + FIBBINS is again in difficulties about some precedent that he + wants to quote, but which he has forgotten, and turns sharply + round on me, saying, in a fierce whisper—</p> + + <p>"What the doose <i>is</i> that case?"</p> + + <p>I look hurriedly down on the sheet of paper on which (as I + fancy) I have jotted down the authorities bearing on the + subject, and reply, also in a whisper—"<i>Cookson and + Gedge</i>."</p> + + <p>"The Court, m'luds," FIBBINS airily proceeds, as if he were + indebted entirely to his own memory for the information, "held + in <i>Cookson and Gedge</i> that a mortgagor who desires to + foreclose—"</p> + + <p>"Where is the case you mention?" suddenly asks the Judge who + was staring at me a moment ago. He is now engaged in first + looking at my instructor suspiciously, and then at me, as if he + thought that there was some horrible secret between us, which + he is determined to probe to the bottom.</p> + + <p>"Volume Six of the <i>Law Reports</i>, m'lud."</p> + + <p>"Page?" snaps PROSER.</p> + + <p>"Page 184, m'lud. As I was saying, the Court there held that + the right to foreclose at any reasonable time is not taken + away—"</p> + + <p>This time the interruption comes from the Judge who I + thought was going mad, but who now seems to be preternaturally + and offensively sane.</p> + + <p>"It would be odd," he observes, cuttingly, "if any Court + <i>had</i> decided a point about mortgages in <i>Cookson versus + Gedge</i>, because on looking at the page to which you have + referred us, find that <i>Cookson and Gedge</i> was <i>a + running-down case</i>!"</p> + + <p>I glance at the paper before me in consternation; another + moment, and the horrifying fact is revealed to me that the + sheet of "authorities" I have brought with me bears, not on the + mortgage case now before the Court, but on that previous + six-guinea matter on which I had given ROGERS & Co. my + valuable Opinion gratis.</p> + + <p>I hear DICK FIBBINS, in this trying position, with the eyes + of three Judges fixed on him, swearing at me under his breath + in the most awful manner. But why did he depend on <i>me</i>? + Why didn't he get up the case himself?</p> + + <p>Deprived at one blow of most of his precedents, + "shorn"—as the Breach of Promise Reports puts + it—"of its usual attractions," FIBBINS's speech becomes + an impotent affair. He has to quote such cases as he can + remember, and as neither his memory nor his legal knowledge is + great, he presents them all wrongly, and prematurely sits down. + I see PROSER's wrinkled countenance illumined with an exultant + smile. Just as I am moving out of Court (FIBBINS has to "move" + <i>in</i> Court), because I am desirous of avoiding FIBBINS's + wrath,—though I feel that this <i>fiasco</i> is more his + fault than mine,—I hear the presiding judge (the mad one) + say to the Defendant's Counsel that he need not trouble to + address them. I know what <i>that</i> means—judgment for + the Defendant!</p> + + <p>Chancing half-an-hour later to enter a Strand Restaurant, + part of which, I regret to say, is also a drinking-bar, I am + startled at beholding the identical form and features of + FIBBINS himself. He appears flushed—has two companions + with him, to whom he is talking excitedly. I hear the + words—"idiot"—"jackass of a pupil"—"regular + sell"—and; but no, perhaps I had better not repeat all + that I <i>did</i> hear. I decide to seek refreshment + elsewhere.</p> + + <p>Over the subsequent scene in FIBBINS's Chambers I prefer to + draw a veil. It is sufficient to say that I was obliged to + leave FIBBINS, and thereafter received a solid half-year's + instruction in the Chambers of a learned Counsel who was not a + briefless impostor.</p> + + <p>I heard afterwards that he had added the story to his fund + of legal dining-out anecdotes, and had considerably amplified + it. It came out in a shape which made FIBBINS a hero, myself an + imbecile of a rather malicious kind, PROSER helplessly cowering + under FIBBINS's wealth of arguments, and the other two Judges + reduced to admiring silence. I take this opportunity of stating + that if anybody "cowered" in Court on that memorable occasion, + it was certainly not poor old PROSER.</p> + <hr /> + + <h2>THE "DISAPPOINTMENT OF DECEMBER."</h2> + + <blockquote class="note"> + <p>["It is too early yet (says the <i>Telegraph</i>) to + announce the title of the latest of the Laureate's plays, + but this much may be said, that it is written partly in + blank verse and partly in prose, that it is what is known + in theatrical circles as a 'a costume play,' and that the + scene is laid in England. It may, however, interest + sensitive dramatists to know that Lord TENNYSON is liberal + enough to place the stage detail wholly in the competent + hands of Mr. DALY. He does not wince if a line is cut here + and there, or protest if a scene or a speech has to be + supplied."]</p> + </blockquote> + + <div class="figright" + style="width:18%;"> + <a href="images/180-2.png"><img width="100%" + src="images/180-2.png" + alt="A cut here and there will be necessary." /></a>A + cut here and there will be necessary. + </div> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Behold, I know not anything,—</p> + + <p class="i2">Except that if I write two Acts in + verse,</p> + + <p class="i2">And two in prose, I might do worse</p> + + <p>Than having a Four Act song to sing.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>I leave the dress we know to-day;</p> + + <p class="i2">On English ground my scene I set,</p> + + <p class="i2">And wonder if I touch as yet,</p> + + <p>What we have termed a "<i>Costume Play!</i>"</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>If I have over-writ, and laid,</p> + + <p class="i2">It may be here, it may be there,</p> + + <p class="i2">The fat too thickly on,—with + care</p> + + <p>To cut it down be not afraid.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>But oh, if here and there I seem</p> + + <p class="i2">To have half-said what I should say,</p> + + <p class="i2">Give me the start—I'll fire + away,</p> + + <p>And keep up the poetic steam—</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Ay! keep it up in lines that run</p> + + <p class="i2">As glibly from the Laureate's pen,</p> + + <p class="i2">That I shall by my fellow men</p> + + <p>Be greeted with "That's TENNYSON!"</p> + </div> + </div> + + <p>In short, it will not be easy, from such scanty information + as the Noble Rhymester has as yet given to the public, to say + precisely what sort of a play this promised comedy, "half in + prose, half in blank verse," will prove itself to be; but it is + to be hoped with <i>The Promise of May</i> still fresh in the + memory of many a playgoer, that the forthcoming effort may not, + after all, turn out to merit the unpromising title of <i>The + Disappointment of December</i>.</p> + <hr /> + + <p>A MYSTERIOUSLY MASONIC LINE.—"Oh, for a Lodge in some + vast wilderness!"</p> + <hr /> + + <p>NOTICE.—Rejected Communications or Contributions, + whether MS., Printed Matter, Drawings, or Pictures of any + description, will in no case be returned, not even when + accompanied by a Stamped and Addressed Envelope, Cover, or + Wrapper. To this rule there will be no exception.</p> + <hr class="full" /> + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Punch, Or The London Charivari, Vol. +101. October 10, 1891, by Various + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PUNCH *** + +***** This file should be named 13994-h.htm or 13994-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/1/3/9/9/13994/ + +Produced by Malcolm Farmer, William Flis, and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team. + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Punch, Or The London Charivari, Vol. 101. October 10, 1891 + +Author: Various + +Release Date: November 9, 2004 [EBook #13994] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PUNCH *** + + + + +Produced by Malcolm Farmer, William Flis, and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team. + + + + + +PUNCH, + +OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. + +VOL. 101. + + + +October 10, 1891. + + + + +[Illustration: THE CYCLIST CENTAUR OF THE FUTURE. + +THE DREAM OF A (PNEUMATIC) TYRO.] + + * * * * * + +ATROPOS AND THE ANTHROPOIDS. + +(_A DIRGE AT THE ZOO._) + + ["The Anthropoid apes, of which there was recently such a + representative series in the Zoo, have dwindled sadly in + numbers this year. The lamented decease of 'Sally' was + referred to a few weeks ago; we have now to record the death + of 'George,' the Orang-Outang."--_Daily News_.] + + Late for the Chimpanzee the requiem rang, + Now the bell tolls for the Orang-Outang. + Well may spasmodic sobs choke childhood's gorge, + Now they who sighed for "Sally" grieve for "George." + A "wilderness of monkeys" can't console, + For Anthropoids defunct. Of Apedom's whole, + One little Chimpanzee, one Gibbon small, + (Who ought to write his race's "Rise and Fall,") + Alone remain to cheer the tearful Zoo, + And mitigate lone boyhood's loud bohoo! + "Sally" adieu! to "George" a long farewell! + Ah! muffle if you please their passing bell! + Only one thought can cheer us in the least; + "No doubt the stock will shortly be increased." + Thanks, _Daily News_! Wipe, childhood, the wet eye, + And Apedom for dead kin soften the Simian sigh! + + * * * * * + +CHARITY'S WORD OF COMMAND.--"Present alms!" + + * * * * * + +OYSTERS (NOT) FOR EVER! + +[Illustration: A Native Hoister.] + + He was a gentle Fishmonger, and WILLIAMSON his name, + No doubt you may have heard before his philanthropic game. + The lack of oysters pained him much, for how could people royster + And happy be in r-less months without the luscious oyster? + + A look of pain was in his face, a pucker on his brow, + Long time he pondered very hard to try and find out how. + At last he cried, "Eureka! from France I'll go and bring them, + And into beds I've got at home without a murmur fling them." + + Then they came across the Channel, and he very sweetly said, + "So glad to see you looking well, would you like to see your bed? + For there, my little dears, you stay; you'll one day know the reason. + I'll rouse you when the month of May makes natives out of season." + + The Fishmongers, the Worshipful, sent down a man to see, + He wrung his hands and shook his head, and said, "Oh, miseree! + It pains me very deeply, and it drives me to distraction, + You've done what's wrong, and I shall have to institute an action." + + Then WILLIAMSON, he sobbed aloud, and shed a bitter tear, + "Oh, hang it all," he cried, "why _must_ you come and interfere? + I quite admit, however, that I see your point precisely, + So don't let's quarrel, let's be friends, and bring the action nicely." + + They brought that friendly action, and the clever counsel tried + To prove to FAUDELL PHILLIPS that the law was on his side. + But the oyster-dealer found the law for him was one too many, + So he had to pay the piper--to be quite exact, a penny. + + And you who love your oyster in the latter end of May, + In June, July, and August, too, will sadly rue the day, + For philanthropic folk will find it unremunerative + To introduce in summer-time this Franco-English native.[1] + +[Footnote 1: Oysters are to be six shillings a dozen this winter!! How +many of the ordinarily careless will now be compelled to go by RULES +without going in for Oysters. N.B.--"Action" in these verses is poetic +license for "summons."] + + * * * * * + +"SAVE ME FROM MY FRIENDS!" + + SCENE--_A Place of Meeting. Enter Parliamentary Leader and + his Subordinate. They greet one another effusively._ + +_Leader_ (_cordially_). And now, my dear fellow, how are my interests? + +_Sub._ (_with much heartiness_). Getting on capitally! Just been +writing to all the papers to say that it is stupid to call you "Old +Dot-and-go-one," because it is inapplicable to either your age or your +mode of controversy. + +_Lead._ (_with a feeble smile_). That _was_ kind of you! But who had +said it? + +_Sub._ (_airily_). Oh, someone of about fourth-rate importance! and it +had been quite forgotten you know. So I dragged it up again, and put +it all right for you. + +_Lead._ (_shaking hands_). Thanks, so very much. But if persons had +forgotten it, why revert to it? + +_Sub._ Oh, don't you see? Why, the point is, you are not a bit like +it-not a scrap like it! Next week I shall write and say that +it's rubbish to call you a turncoat, because you have always been +consistent. + +_Lead._ (_anxiously_). But _is_ anybody calling me a turncoat? + +_Sub._ Not that I know of, but they might, don't you see. So it's as +well to be on the safe side. I shall say that, if any one _did_ call +you a turncoat, that the speaker would prove himself a liar! That +ought to give you a leg up, oughtn't it? + +_Lead._ (_with some hesitation_). My dear friend, you are _most_ kind; +but if you don't mind, I would be so immensely obliged if you would +leave my interests alone. + +_Sub._ (_with great cordiality_). What, leave your interests alone! +Never! You may be always sure of _my_ hearty support! + +_Lead._ (_earnestly_). But as a personal matter, I must beg of you +kindly to leave me alone. + +_Sub._ (_reluctantly_). Well, of course, if you make it a personal +matter, I must consent. But the Party will suffer. + +_Lead._ (_dryly_). Possibly--from your point of view. [_Exeunt._ + + * * * * * + +JAWFUL NEWS!--_The Diminution of the Jaw in the Civilised Races_ is +the title of a pamphlet by Mr. F. HOWARD COLLINS. We haven't read +it; but if it be in favour of the diminution of "jaw," we heartily +recommend its study to all Members of Parliament, actual or intending, +and to all post-prandial speechmakers generally. + + * * * * * + +[Illustration: BUMBLEDOM'S BIG OPENING. + +_Bumble_. "DON'T BOTHER ME ABOUT YOUR DRAINAGE AND SICH! WHY, NOW +THE SWELLS IS 'OOKIN' IT, I'M A-GOING TO BE CHAIRMAN OF THE COUNTY +COUNCIL!"] + +_Bumble (after reading Dr. T. Orme Duffield's Report to the Vestry +of Kensington on the health and sanitary condition of the district), +loquitur_:-- + + Oh bother this sanit'ry bosh! Always piping the same dull old strains, + One would think there wos nothink in life to be done but go sniffing the + Drains! + Wich my nose is a dalicot one, and I don't like the job, not by lumps; + And I _won't_ be perpetual poked up by these peeping and prying old pumps. + "Bumbledom and Disease!" I like that,--like the _Times_' dashed himperence, + I think. + We porochial pots is to pass all our time a-prospecting for Stink! + Doctor DUDFIELD thinks WE should inspeck, periodical, all privit dwellings, + Discover and show up defecks, sech as fumings and leakings, and smellings, + As "lurk unsuspected about," which the tenants theirselves do not twig, + And the landlords, in course, don't remove. Well, your tenant is mostly a + pig, + And your landlord is sometimes a 'og; still between 'em _we_ jest slip + along, + But do dooty for both of 'em? Snakes! that is coming it slightly _too_ + strong. + The tenants 'old on jest as long as they can, and the landlords 'old orf. + A sort of a ketchy sore-throat, or a bit of a qualm or a korf, + Make some idjots go fair orf their chumps on diphtheria, and typhod and + such; + But then others, who don't like a hupset, put up with the lot, pooty much, + Jest to save topsy-turvey and 'oles in the garden, and mud on the stairs; + Landlords, likeways, is dabs at postponing, and patching, and 'ushing up + scares. + But if _we_ are to spot wot goes quisby, and be the responsible chaps, + Wheugh! we _should_ 'ave a regular beanfeast with sockets and air-pipes + and traps! + No, no, westry worrying sneaks, it won't work. As for "W.B.E." + He may frighten the Kensington lot, he won't 'ave no effeck upon Me! + Diphtheria be jolly well dashed! It is often, as DUDFIELD explains, + Mere "follicular(--hem!--) tonsillitis." _Me_ bother my 'ed about Drains? + Go to! I 'ave got other fish, in a manner of speaking, to fry, + That L.C.C. gave itself airs and declared it would wipe my old heye + With its bloomin' Big Pots and "Progressives." Aha! where the doose are + they now? + Mister ROSEBERY resigned, regular sick of bad manners and endless bow-wow; + Now LIBBOCK and FARRER are orf. FARRER gave the _Times_ one in the eye, + 'Cos it seemed for to 'int even he of them precious Progressives wos shy. + Swears their manners is quite up to dick, most consid'rit, and all that + there stuff. + Well they may 'ave been Brummels of course, but _he seems to 'ave 'ad + quite enough!_ + 'Owsomever, wotever the cause, now they're quit of the Great Toffy Three, + They must 'ave a new Chairman, in course, and--ha! ha!--_wot_ a hopening + for Me!! + Porochial Bumble _must_ rule, spite of fads, in a steady and sane age, + And 'aving a heye on High Orfice _I_ can't waste _my_ time on mere + Drainage! + + [_Kicks Report, and strikes an attitude._ + + * * * * * + +[Illustration: TRUE LITERARY EXCLUSIVENESS. + +"DON'T YOU ADMIRE ROBERT BROWNING AS A POET, MR. FITZSNOOK?" + +"I USED TO, ONCE; BUT _EVERYBODY_ ADMIRES HIM NOW, DON'TCHERKNOW--SO +I'VE HAD TO GIVE HIM UP!"] + + * * * * * + +HIDE AND SEEK. + + Ah! Pirate KID's Treasure _has_ done good we know, + It suggested a rattling good story to POE. + But the "Syndicate" started to seek where 'tis hid, + Will probably find that same Treasure--"_all_ KID!" + + * * * * * + +TEA IN TEN MINUTES. + +(A SONG AT A RAILWAY STATION.) + +AIR--_"THEE, THEE, ONLY THEE."_ + +[Illustration] + + Ten minutes here! The sun is sinking + And longingly we've long been thinking, + Of Tea, Tea, fragrant Tea! + + The marble slabs we gather round, + They're long in bringing what is wanted. + The china cup with draught embrown'd + Our thirsty souls are wholly haunted + By Tea, Tea, fragrant Tea! + + Now then, you waiter, stir, awaken! + Time's up. I'll hardly save my bacon. + Tea, Tea, bring that Tea! + + At last! The infusion's rayther dark. + But hurry up! Can't stay for ever! + One swig! Br-r-r-r! Hang the cunning shark! + Will't never cool? Nay, never, never! + Tea, Tea, scalding Tea! + + More milk; don't be an hour in bringing! + Heavens! That horrid bell is ringing! + "Take your seats, please!" Can't _touch_ the Tea! + Cup to the carriage must not take; + Crockery may be lost, or broken; + Refreshment sharks are wide awake. + But--many a naughty word is spoken + O'er Tea, Tea, scalding Tea! + + * * * * * + +NOTHING NEW.--The Editor of the _Gentlewoman_ announces a forthcoming +novel to be written by about a dozen or more novelists. _Mr. Punch_ +highly commends this spirited enterprise. The scheme is not absolutely +a novelty, as in _Mr. Punch's_ pages some time ago, was there not +a "Limited Novel Co." of Authors and Artists to produce "Chikkin +Hazard?" They combined, but did not collaborate. But any way, success +to the _Gentlewoman_! + + * * * * * + +"WHERE IS DAT BARTY NOW?"--After the recent suicide of _le pauvre +General_, the Boulangist party cannot be said to have been left +without leaders, at all events, in England, as they have had leaders +in all the papers, and actually two in the _Times_. + + * * * * * + +THE TRAVELLING COMPANIONS. + +NO. X. + + SCENE--_A flight of steps by the lake in the grounds of the + Insel Hotel, Constance. Time, late afternoon. A small boat, + containing three persons, is just visible far out on the + glassy grey-green water. BOB PRENDERGAST and PODBUBY are + perched side by side on a parapet, smoking disconsolately._ + +_Podbury._ Do they look at all as if they meant to come in? I tell you +what, BOB, vote we row out to them and tell them they'll be late for +_table d'hote_. Eh? [_He knocks out his pipe._ + +_Prendergast_ (_phlegmatically_). Only be late for it ourselves if we +do. They'll come in when they want to. + +_Podb._ It's not safe for your sister,--I'm hanged if it is--going +out in a boat with a duffer like CULCHARD! He'll upset her as sure as +eggs. + +_Prend._ (_with fraternal serenity_). With pin-oars? Couldn't if he +tried! And they've a man with them, too. The less I see of that chap +CULCHARD the better. I did hope we'd choked him off at Nuremberg. I +hate the sight of his supercilious old mug! + +_Podb._ You can't hate it more than I do--but what can I do? +(_Pathetically._) I've tried rotting him, but somehow he always +manages to get the best of it in the end. I never saw such a beggar to +hang on! + +[Illustration: "Gets up and quits the room with dignity."] + +_Prend._ What on earth made you ask him to come on here, after he +declared he wouldn't? + +_Podb._ I! _I_ ask him? He settled it all with your sister. How could +_I_ help it? + +_Prend._ I'd do _something_. Why can't you tell him right out he ain't +wanted? _I_ would--like a shot! + +_Podb._ It's not so easy to tell him as you think. We haven't been +on speaking terms these three days. And, after all (_feebly_) we're +supposed to be travelling together, don't you know! _You_ might drop +him a hint now. + +_Prend._ Don't see how I can very well--not on my own hook. Might lead +to ructions with HYPATIA, too. + +_Podb._ (_anxiously_). BOB, you--you don't think your sister +really--eh? + +_Prend._ HYPATIA's a rum girl--always was. She certainly don't seem to +object to your friend CULCHARD. What the dickens she can see in him, +I don't know!--but it's no use my putting _my_ oar in. She'd only jump +on _me_, y'know! + +_Podb._ (_rising_). Then I _must_. If that's what he's really after, +I think I can stop his little game. I'll try, at any rate. It's a long +worm that has no turning, and I've had about enough of it. The first +chance I get. I'll go for him. + +_Prend._ Good luck to you, old chap. There, they're coming in now. +We'd better go in and change, eh? We've none too much time. + + [_They go in._ + + _In the Lese-zimmer, a small gaslit room, with glazed doors + opening upon the Musik-saal. Around a table piled with German + and English periodicals, a mild Curate, the Wife of the English + Chaplain, and two Old Maids are seated, reading and conversing. + CULCHARD is on a central ottoman, conscientiously deciphering + the jokes in "Fliegende Blaetter." PODBURY is at the bookcase, + turning over odd TAUCHNITZ volumes._ + +_The Chaplain's Wife_ (_to the Curate, a new arrival_). Oh, you will +_very_ soon get into all our little ways. The hours here are _most_ +convenient--breakfast (_table d'hote_) with choice of eggs or fish and +coffee--really _admirable_ coffee--from eight to nine; midday dinner +at one. Supper at nine. Then, if you want to write a letter, the post +for England goes out at--(_&c., &c._) And on Sundays, eleven +o'clock service (Evangelical, of _course_!) at the--(_&c., &c._) My +husband--(_&c., &c._) + +_First Old Maid_ (_looking up from a four days old "Telegraph"_). I +see they are still continuing that very interesting correspondence on +"Our Children's Mouths--and are they widening?" One letter attributes +it to the habit of thumb--sucking in infancy--which certainly ought to +be checked. Now I never _would_ allow any-- + +_The Chaplain's Wife_. Nor I. But corals are quite as bad. Only this +afternoon I was telling a Lady in this hotel that her little boy would +be much happier with a rubber ring. You get them at a shop in the +Hoch-strasse I can take you to it at any time, or if you like to +mention my name--(_&c., &c._) + +_Second O.M._ One correspondent thought the practice of eating soup +with table-spoons tended to enlarge the mouth. I really believe there +may be something in it. [_A pause._ + +_The Curate_. The weather we have been having seems to have materially +affected the harvest prospects at home; they say there will be little +or no fodder for the cattle this year. I saw somewhere--I forget where +it was exactly--a suggestion to feed cows on chickweed. + +_Podb._ (_at the bookcase_). Capital thing for them too, Sir. Know a +man who never gives his cattle anything else. + +_The Curate_. Oh, really? And does he find the experiment answer? + +_Podb._ They take to it like birds. And--curious thing--after he'd +tried it a month, all the cows turned yellow and went about chirping +and twittering and hopping. Fact, I assure you! + +_The Curate_. Dear me--I should scarcely have-- + + [_He gradually comes to the conclusion that he is being + trifled with, and after a few moments of uncomfortable + silence, gets up and quits the room with dignity._ + +_Podb._ (_to himself_). _One_ of 'em gone! Now if I can only clear +these old tabbies out, I can tackle CULCHARD. (_Aloud, to Chaplain's +Wife._) You don't happen to know if there's a good doctor here, I +suppose? A lady was saying in the Musik-saal--the lady with the three +daughters who came this afternoon--that she was afraid they were in +for bad feverish colds or something, and asking who there was to call +in. + +_The C.'s W._ Oh, I've no belief in foreign doctors. I always find a +few drops of aconite or pulsatilla,--I have my homoeopathic case with +me now. Perhaps, if I went and had a talk with her I could--[_She goes +out energetically._ + +_Podb._ Another gone! (_To the Old Maids._) So you ain't going down +to the Cloisters to-night? I'm told there's to be some fun +there--Hide-and-seek, or something--first-rate place for it, +especially now the moon's up! + +_First Old Maid_. Nobody told _us_ a word about it. Hide-and-seek--and +in those quaint old Cloisters too--It sounds delightful! What do you +say, TABITHA. Shall we just--? Only to look _on_, you know. We needn't +_play_, unless-- + + [_The Two Old Maids withdraw in a pleased flutter. PODBURY + crosses to CULCHARD._ + +_Podb._ (_with determination_). Look here, CULCHARD, I'd just like to +know what you mean by the way you're going on. + +_Culch._ I thought we were both agreed that discussions of this kind-- + +_Podb._ It's all bosh our travelling together if we're not to have any +discussions. You've been on the sulk long enough. And I'll thank +you to inform me what you're after here, going about alone with Miss +PRENDERGAST like this, in the Museum with her all the morning, and on +the lake again this afternoon,--it won't _do_, you know! + +_Culch._ If she happens to prefer my society to yours and her +brother's, I presume you have no claim to interfere. + +_Podb._ I don't know about that. How about Miss TROTTER? + +_Culch._ If I remember rightly, you yourself were not insensible to +Miss TROTTER's--er--attractions? + +_Podb._ Perhaps not; but I am not engaged to her--you _are_. You told +me so in the train. + +_Culch._ You entirely misunderstood me. There was no definite +understanding between us--nothing of the sort or kind. In fact, it was +merely a passing caprice. Since I have had the privilege of knowing +Miss PRENDERGAST, I see clearly-- + +_Podb._ Then you mean to propose to her, eh? + +_Culch._ That is certainly my intention; have you any objection to +offer? + +_Podb._ Only that I mean to propose too. I daresay my chances are as +good as yours--even now. + +_Culch._ I doubt it, my dear fellow; however, don't let _me_ +discourage you. + +_Podb._ I don't intend to. (_The figure of Miss PRENDERGAST is seen +to pass the glazed doors, and move slowly across the Musik-saal; +both rush to the door, and look after her._) She's gone out into the +balcony. 'Jove, I'll go, too, and get it over! + +_Culch._ I should not advise you to do so. It is possible she may have +gone there with the--er--expectation of being joined by--by somebody +else. [_He smiles complacently._ + +_Podb._ You mean she gave you a _rendezvous_ there? I don't believe +it! + +_Culch._ I did not say so. But I am not prepared to deny that I have +been waiting here with some such expectation. + +_Podb._ (_holding the door_). If you go, I go too--that's all. + +_Culch._ Don't be absurd. You will only be _de trop_, I assure you. + +_Podb._ _De trop_ or not, I mean going--she shall choose between us. + +_Culch._ (_turning pale_). I suppose you intend to enlighten her as to +my--er--little flirtation (before I knew _her_) with Miss TROTTER? Do +it, PODBURY, do it--if you think you'll gain any good by it! + +_Podb._ Telling tales is not exactly in my line. But you don't go on +that balcony without me--that's all. + +_Culch._ Well, listen to reason, my dear fellow. What you propose is +ridiculous. I--I don't mind conceding this: we'll each go, and--er tit +up, as you call it, which goes first. + +_Podb._ Done with you! (_Produces a mark._) Sudden death. You're +Eagle--I'm the other Johnny. (_Tosses._) Eagle! Confound you! But I +mean to have my innings all the same. + +_Culch._ You're perfectly welcome--when I've had mine. I'll--er--wish +you good evening. + + [_He stalks out triumphantly. PODBURY places himself in a + position from which he can command a view of the Musik-saal, + over the top of "ueber Land und Meer," and awaits results._ + + * * * * * + +STORICULES. + +VI.--BUDWELL'S REVENGE. + +My friend, THOMAS GIDLING, is something indefinite and authoritative +in the Post Office. He is a practical man. He can do fretwork, cook a +steak, clean boots, find out what's wrong with the gas, and understand +Waterloo Station; in an emergency he is invaluable. This is just as +well, because destiny has decided that the life of THOMAS GIDLING +shall be a series of emergencies. He has comfortable bachelor +quarters at the very top of Parkington Chambers, which are situated in +Bloomsbury. + +[Illustration] + +One night last winter I had been dining with GIDLING at his Club; +after dinner he proposed that we should go round to his flat for a +talk and a smoke. GIDLING, being practical, can make coffee, which is +a thing that they cannot do at GIDLING's Club, nor, indeed, at many +others. So I consented. + +We had climbed painfully to the top of Parkington Chambers, and had +just got inside GIDLING's outer door, when we noticed a very marked +and curious smell. "There's something wrong about this," remarked +GIDLING, severely. I agreed with him, adding, out of a nervous +politeness, from which I suffer sometimes, that I rather liked the +smell, "Then you're an idiot," said GIDLING, who never suffers from +politeness at all. He opened the door of his sitting-room, and then we +saw at once what was the matter. The lower part of the chimney was on +fire; the fire-place was covered with glowing masses of soot which had +fallen. "HANKIN's had another nasty touch of that influenza," remarked +GIDLING. HANKIN is GIDLING's servant, and at regular intervals becomes +incapacitated for work. HANKIN himself says that it is influenza, and +speaks of "another of them relapses;" GIDLING thinks that it is as +a rule intoxication. As a matter of fact HANKIN would not be a bad +servant if his zeal was distributed over him rather more evenly. It +is always either excessive or defective. It comes out in lumps. In +neglecting to have the chimney swept HANKIN had shown defect; in the +way that he had piled up the fire he had shown excess. In subsequently +absenting himself from the flat he had shown a certain amount of +wisdom, for GIDLING was rather angry. + +"Not but what I can put it all right," said GIDLING. "I'm a practical +man. Fire Brigade? I thought you'd suggest a few fire brigades. No, +not exactly. I'll show you how to stop a thing of this kind." He went +into his bed-room, and returned with the water-jug. An iron ladder +from the main staircase led through a trap-door in the roof. GIDLING +went up this ladder with the water-jug, while I waited to see the +result in the sitting-room, I could hear him walking about on the +roof, and I looked out for a deluge of water to descend down the +chimney into the fire-place. But no deluge came. Presently GIDLING +descended and entered the room with the empty water-jug. + +"Did it splash much?" he asked. "No, there was no water came down at +all." + +"Oh? Then I've emptied this water-jug down the wrong chimney. We'd +better clear out of this." + +At this juncture HANKIN returned, and GIDLING said a good deal to him. +HANKIN was left to put out the fire, and we went back again to the +Club. GIDLING seemed rather annoyed with me for laughing about his +mistake. + +"It's a deuced awkward thing," he said. "That water went down +somebody's chimney, and it's put somebody's fire out. That means +unpleasantness, you know, if he or she finds out who did it." + +"Who live in the flats below yours?" I asked. + +"An Art-student and her mother in the flat below mine--they are really +most charming people, and I hope to goodness it wasn't their chimney +that I poured the water down. I'm on rather friendly terms with them. +Then on the first floor there's BUDWELL. He's a conceited affected +ape. I only hope it was he who got the benefit of that water-jug. It's +rather amusing, you know. BUDWELL's very much in love with Miss VANE +(that's the Art-student), and she loathes him--at least I believe so. +Poor beggar!" GIDLING laughed, sarcastically. "Yes, I hope that was +BUDWELL's chimney, not the other." + +It turned out afterwards that it _was_ BUDWELL's chimney, and he found +out that it was GIDLING who had done the deed. So BUDWELL determined +on revenge. He climbed up on to the roof with a large bath-can of +water, intending to empty it down GIDLING's chimney. Chimneys ought to +be labelled. The whole of the contents of that can descended into Mrs. +VANE's fireplace. BUDWELL called and apologised, but it was of no use. +They considered it mean of BUDWELL to take revenge for what was only +a mistake on GIDLING's part; and they were not very well pleased +at having their own fire put out. "A chimney's not the place for a +cataract, you know, Mr. BUDWELL," said Miss VANE. + +BUDWELL went back to his own flat and brooded over his misfortunes. He +had now grown still more angry with GIDLING, which was irrational of +him; and he determined to take a still fiercer revenge. Late at night +he conveyed the bath-can and several jugs, all full of water, on to +the roof. There was no fear of his selecting Mrs. VANE's chimney by +mistake this time. One by one he emptied the jugs and the water-can, +and then descended to his own flat, fiendishly triumphant, as he +thought of the havoc he must have made in GIDLING's fire-place. + +But when he got to his own flat, he found that he had emptied all that +water down his own chimney. + +After that he gave up his revenges, together with his affections and +his apartments. But GIDLING tells the story with considerable unction; +the facts of it were partly derived from BUDWELL's servant and partly +from Miss VANE--with whom GIDLING is beginning to be on more than +friendly terms. + + * * * * * + +INTERNATIONAL NURSERY-TALE CONGRESS. + +The Chair was taken by Mr. JOHN HORNER, P.R.I.N.T.C., lineal +descendant of the celebrated "Jack" of that ilk. + +[Illustration] + +The President said he had no desire to waste the meeting's valuable +time. He would at once address himself (and the company present) to +the myth, if myth it could be called, which had immortalised his own +name. Need he say he alluded to the legend of "Little Jack Horner"? +(_Cheers._) Some commentators are of opinion that "HORNER." was a +typographical error for "HOMER." But the prefix; and the epithet +combined to militate against this ingenious and plausible, but +specious, theory. "HOMER" was not in any sense "Little," nor was his +Pagan name "JACK." Again, "Corner," in the second line, could not +in any language have ever rhymed with "HOMER." He knew that "Cromer" +furnished them with a rhyme for "HOMER;" but if this were accepted, +what became of the ancient Greek, of the Syriac, of the Phoenician, +of the Nimrodic legends, nay, of the very _Iliad_ itself, if "HOMER" +were a native of "Cromer"? (_Loud and prolonged cheers._) No! +"Jack Horner," or, as it was originally written, "Jakorna," was +of Scandinavian origin, and it was, in all probability, a mythmic +rhyth--No, beg pardon, he should say a rhythmic myth (_Cheers_) +sung by a wandering Sam Oar Troupe on their visiting Egypt and the +Provinces before the time of the Celtic-Phoenician O'SIRIS, or at +least before the reign of RAMESES THE FIRST, ancestor of the great +Scotch RAMSEY family--(_Cheers_)--at one of the social entertainments +given on a non-hunting day by that eminent sportsman NIMROD. Then +came the question of where was "the corner" in which Jakorna secluded +himself? Of course, Christmas, as differentiating this pie from all +others, was a modern substitution. The original word was probably +"Kosmik." (_The lecture was still proceeding when our Reporter left, +the dryness of the subject having unfortunately affected his throat._) + + * * * * * + +[Illustration: A CONNOISSEUR. + +_Sir Pompey Bedell._ "THIS BOTTLE OF ROMANEE-CONTI SEEMS RATHER +CLOUDY, BROWN! IT _OUGHT_ TO BE ALL RIGHT. I KNOW IT STANDS ME IN +_TWELVE GUINEAS A DOZEN!_" + +_The New Butler._ "THERE CERTAINLY _HIS_ SOME SEDIMENT, SIR POMPEY; +BUT IT'S OF NO CONSEQUENCE WHATEVER! I TRIED A BOTTLE OF IT _MYSELF_ +THE OTHER DAY, AND FOUND IT FIRST-RATE!"] + + * * * * * + +"WHAT WILL HE DO WITH IT?" + + ["The 'tehorni narod'--the inconceivably ill-used, patient, + long-suffering 'black people,' as the moujiks of White + Russia are grimly denominated by their rulers--are dying by + thousands, of sheer starvation, without a hand being stretched + out by the 'Tchin' to rescue them from the greedy jaws of + Death."--_Daily Telegraph_. + + The moujiks are remonstrating and even rebelling in + consequence.] + + "Little Father," we have suffered long, and sorrowed, + We the "children" of the wonderful White Tsar, + Steadfast patience from staunch loyalty have borrowed, + Slaved for Slavdom still in Peace, and died in War; + We have borne the yoke of power, and its abuses, + We have trusted cells and shackles served their turn; + Nay, that e'en the ruthless knout had noble uses; + Now we starve--and think--and burn. + + "Little Father," is your power then so paternal + As in pious proclamation is set forth? + If the round earth bears a brand of the infernal, + Does the trail of it not taint our native North? + Ay, we love it as in truth we've ever loved it. + Our devotion, poorly paid, is firm and strong; + Have our little pitied miseries not proved it, + And our weary tale of wrong? + + "Little Father," we are hungering now, neglected, + While the foreigner shouts praises in our ports; + We are honoured, say your scribes, loved, feared, respected, + The proud Frank, we fought for you, your friendship courts. + The golden price of it you hug most gladly. + Well, that price, what is its destined end and aim? + The indulgence of ambitions cherished madly? + The pursuit of warrior fame? + + Your realm is ever widening, Tsar, and lengthening, + Though its peoples--your dear children--prosper not; + Railways stretching, boundaries creeping, legions strengthening! + And the end, O Tsar, is--where?--the purpose--what? + The Afghan, Tartar, Turk feel your advancing, + The Persian and the Mongol hear your tread, + And an eager watchful eye is eastward glancing + Where the Lion lifts his head. + + And your children, "Little Father"? They are lying + In their thousands at your threshold, waiting death. + Gold you gather whilst your foodless thralls are dying! + Is appeal, oh Great White Tsar, but wasted breath? + On armaments aggressive are you spending + What might solace the "black people" midst their dead? + Of the millions the effusive Frank is lending + Is there _nothing_ left for bread? + + * * * * * + +BOUILLABAISSE. + + [There has been some correspondence lately about + Bouillabaisse, and a writer in the _Evening News_ (who + misquotes THACKERAY) actually gives a recipe without oil!] + + Our THACKERAY in ancient days, + Wrote of a very famous dish, + And said in stanzas in its praise, + 'Twas made of several kinds of fish. + A savoury stew it is indeed, + And he's "in comfortable case" + Who finds before him at his need + A smoking dish of Bouillabaisse. + + And now folks laud that dish again, + And o'er it raise a pretty coil, + While one rash man we see with pain, + Would dare to make it minus oil. + Oh! shade of TERRE, you no doubt + Would make once more the "droll grimace," + At such a savage, who left out + The olive oil, in Bouillabaisse. + + * * * * * + +"THOUGHT-WAVES." (_By an Un-Esoteric._)--The Theosophists talk mistily +about "the concentration of mind-force on a thought-wave"--which seems +only another way of saying that such minds are, at the time, "quite at +sea." + + * * * * * + +[Illustration: "WHAT WILL HE DO WITH IT?" + +STARVING RUSSIAN PEASANT. "IS NONE OF THAT FOR _ME_, 'LITTLE +FATHER'?"] + + * * * * * + +[Illustration: FANCY PORTRAIT. + +SIR W.V. HARCOURT, + +_THE_ "ODD FELLOW" OUT.] + + * * * * * + +MONEY MAKES THE MAN. + + (_A Fragment from a Romance dedicated by Mr. Punch to Mr. + Diggle._) + +"It is entirely your own fault," said the intruder, as he put another +silver tea-pot in his bag. + +"I don't see that at all," replied the master of the house, moving +uneasily in his chair. + +"Well, I have not time to argue with you," returned the other, as he +held up an enamelled ship of beautiful workmanship. "Dear me, this is +really very fine. I have never seen anything like it before! What is +it?" + +"I got it at a sale in Derbyshire. I fancy it must be something like +the old Battersea enamel." + +"Very fine! And solid silver, too! Well, in all my experience, and +I have been in the profession some twenty years, I have seen nothing +like it. Beautiful! Lovely!" + +"If you had not tied my hands behind my back," explained the master +of the house, "I could show you, by lifting that lid, you would see +prettier subjects in the interior of the vessel." + +"You certainly tempt me," answered the intruder, "to give you an +increased facility in moving. But it is against my rules. I always +work in a methodical manner, and one of my regulations is, before I +open the safe, I must bind the master of the house hand and foot in +an arm-chair. But what were we talking about?" + +"You were saying," returned the other, with a sigh, "that it was my +own fault that I find myself in this painful, this ruinous position. +As a man of education I cannot see how you can advance such a +proposition." + +"But that's the point. I am _not_ a man of education. I don't know +how to play the piano, and can scarcely manage a free-hand sketch of +a cathedral. My Greek is shaky, and I speak French and German with an +accent enough to drive a linguist mad. No, no, you take my word for +it--this little incident would never have happened had you behaved +wisely, and like a public-spirited citizen." + +"What do you mean?" asked the householder. + +"Why, this, that if you had paid more to the School Board, I would +have received a better education, and have never been a housebreaker. +As it is, I am only making up the difference between the sum you have +paid, and the sum you should have expended." + +And the burglar, helping himself to another silver tea-pot, continued +his lucrative work. + + * * * * * + +THE MUSIC OF THE SPHERES. + + The "true sphere of woman"--so HARRISON says-- + In effect--is the family circle. Some praise; + But to geometricians it strange may appear, + For a "circle" is only a _part_ of a "sphere." + Since woman appeared at the wickets, some think + (Though male cricketers from the conclusion may shrink), + That the true "sphere" of woman must be, after all, + A leathern one--typed by a new cricket-ball. + Young girls think a "Ball" of another guess sort + Is the sphere in which woman may find truest sport. + To harmonise all these opinions, 'tis clear, + Is hard; but, whatever be woman's true sphere, + Whether found in the dictum of "Positive" HARRISON, + And what ladies call his "degrading comparison," + Or otherwhere,--this will be certainly found, + If you'll let angry women alone they'll "come _round_." + + * * * * * + +"THE MAN FOR THE POST."--Sir JAMES FERGUSSON. + + * * * * * + +TALK FOR TRAVELLERS. + + ["The German officials at the frontier, since the relaxation + of the passport regulations, have been ordered to treat + foreign passengers with every politeness."--_Daily Papers_.] + +Mein Herr, will you do us the honour to descend from the +railway-carriage? It will be merely a matter of form. We need not +disturb those gracious ladies, your wife and daughters. + +This is the best way to the Customs. You will notice that we have +swept the path that leads to the door. + +Certainly, these arm-chairs are for the use of passengers. We have +placed them there ourselves, and can recommend them. + +Is it asking too great a favour to beg you to lend me the keys of your +boxes? A hundred thousand thanks. + +Your explanation is absolutely satisfactory. You are bringing these +sixteen unopened boxes of cigars home for your grandmother. It is a +most proper thing to do, and, under the circumstances, the duty will +be remitted. + +And these three hundred yards of lace of various makes and ages? An +heir-loom! Indeed! Then, of course, the packet must pass duty-free. + +As we have found nothing of consequence in this portmanteau of yours, +it will be unnecessary to search the nineteen boxes of that gracious +lady, your wife. No doubt she has obeyed your instruction not to +smuggle. We are absolutely satisfied with your explanations, and are +greatly obliged to you for your kindness and condescension. + +This is the way to the carriage. We have placed steps before the door, +as without a platform it is difficult to ascend. + +No, Mein Herr, it is utterly impossible! We are forbidden by the +EMPEROR himself to accept a gratuity. + +Yes, Madam, it is indeed without charge. Do not tempt us. Instant +dismissal is the penalty. + +Certainly, Mein Herr, you could get the same politeness before the +EMPEROR issued his Imperial instructions. + +But then the charge was a thaler! + + * * * * * + +THE GREAT TWIN BRETHREN. + + ["I do not wish to call Mr. GLADSTONE by a name which would + be both tasteless and pointless."--_Mr. A.V. Dicey's Letter to + the Times._] + + Tasteless and pointless, DICEY? Well, the time _is_ out of joint, + And you were born to set it right, though _not_ with "taste" and "point." + We cannot all do all things, Sir, and if you save the State + (As the great Twin Brethren mean to in despite of HARCOURT's hate), + What _does_ it matter, DICEY, if your letters are not quite + In that style epistolary, which our fathers called "polite"? + 'Tis a little too meticulous--in you--and rather late, + After giving Mr. GLADSTONE such a wholesome slashing "slate." + Take heart of grace, dear DICEY, and don't let Sir WILLIAM's "point" + In your tough (if tasteless) armour find a vulnerable joint. + "Old Timbertoes" won't trouble, Sir, to wish that _you_ were dead, + And his taste (_not_ point) forbids him to call you "Old Wooden-head!" + + * * * * * + +KEEP WATCH! + + [A Visitor fishing off Deal Pier brought up a gold watch + and chain on his hook. It is supposed to be one lost by a + resident, but the lucky angler has not been seen since.] + + Paradoxical portent! Most worthy of rhyme + Is this fortunate angler who tried to kill time. + Fate made him the offer, and, wisely, he book'd it; + He not only killed time, but he caught it,--and "hook'd it." + + * * * * * + +[Illustration: MR. PUNCH VISITS SCARBOROUGH SPA.] + + * * * * * + +BOULANGER. + + So high he floated, that he seemed to climb; + The bladder blown by chance was burst by time. + Falsely-earned fame fools bolstered at the urns; + The mob which reared the god the idol burns. + To cling one moment nigh to power's crest, + Then, earthward flung, sink to oblivion's rest + Self-sought, 'midst careless acquiescence, seems + Strange fate, e'en for a thing of schemes and dreams; + But CAESAR's simulacrum, seen by day, + Scarce envious CASCA's self would stoop to slay, + And mounting mediocrity, once o'erthrown, + Need fear--or hope--no dagger save its own. + + * * * * * + +FROM BRIGHT TO DULL.--In an interesting article on artificial +reproductions of Nature's treasures, the _Standard_ remarked that +"Real diamonds have been turned out of the chemist's retorts." What a +brilliant chemist he must have been! Probably of Hibernian origin, as +among conversational sparklers there are few on record more brilliant +than "Irish Diamonds." Stay, though! If the real diamonds were "turned +out of the chemist's retorts," then his retorts, without these flashes +of brilliancy, must have been a trifle dull, and he is no longer the +chemist we took him for. "But," to quote our KIPLING, "that is another +story." + + * * * * * + +THE NEW EVANGEL. + + [M. ZOLA, in his new Novel, glorifies War, and the + regenerative mission of human bloodshed.] + + "ZOLA on War," intensifies the "Hola!" + Of purists who are all for "war on ZOLA!" + Well, he whose pen is touched with tints from Tophet, + Is the right man to pose as Red War's Prophet! + + * * * * * + +A TRIFLE FOR _THE BUILDER_.--"When are houses like difficulties?" And +the practical man replies, "When they have to be 'faced.'" + + * * * * * + +[Illustration: THE RULING PASSION STRONG AT DINNER. + +_Laconic Waiter_ (_thoroughly familiar with Sporting Major's taste in +Champagne_). "SEVENTY-FOUR, SIR?" + +_Sporting Major_ (_down on his luck, after a bad week at Newmarket_). +"SEVEN-TO-FOUR, SIR! DASH IT! WOULDN'T TAKE TEN TO ONE ABOUT +ANYTHING!"] + + * * * * * + +OUR BOOKING-OFFICE. + +[Illustration] + +"Respected ANDREW LANG," writes the Baron's Assistant Reader, "I have +read your criticism in _Longman's Magazine_ upon Mr. BARRY PAIN's _In +a Canadian Canoe_. It's an ugly piece of bludgeon work, I admit, but +not convincing to anyone who has read the book of which you speak. You +tear away a line or two from the context, and ask your readers to say +if _that_ is wit or humour. How your admirers would have protested +had any sacrilegious critic ventured to treat one of your own immortal +works in this manner. _Essays in Little_, a book which, by the way, +appeared in the same series for which Mr. BARRY PAIN wrote, is a +pleasant and inoffensive compilation, but even _Essays in Little_ +would have presented a sorry appearance if, let us say, ANDREW LANG +had reviewed it in this perfunctory and extractory and arbitrary +fashion. I remember that in that case the critics were respectfully +enthusiastic. Even Mr. BLUDYER would have doffed his cap, I fancy, to +one + + Who rhymes, researches and reviews, + Who sometimes writes like Genesis, + And sometimes in the _Daily News_. + +For, after all, you stand high in the journalistic world. Your opinion +passes current in many a select circle. Not even your vagaries seem to +have power to offend the worshippers to whom your word has long been +a law, whether you spoke of golf, of salmon, of folk-lore or of books. +The censure of a BLUDYER (I wonder what has brought that formidable +name to my mind) can do little to discourage you. But Mr. BARRY PAIN +is a young writer. And yet some one remarked that _In a Canadian +Canoe_ was better even than _Essays in Little_, and the audacious +words were actually printed in a journal to which ANDREW LANG is +an occasional contributor. I myself have never dared to go so far. +There is something sacred about an established reputation. And I can +honestly say that I like the elegant airy trifles which your little +Muse has bestowed upon us, though I confess to a weariness when the +talk is too much of golf-clubs and salmon rods. And I admire your +appreciation of the original work of other men. In the present case +you and I disagree upon a question of taste. That is all. _Tant pis +pour moi_, I hasten to add. But I disagree in good company, for I note +with some amusement, that the PAYN whom you rightly praise, has a kind +and encouraging word for the PAIN whom you so vehemently disparage. +And in this case I will stake my all upon the eulogy of JAMES PAYN as +against the censure of ANDREW LANG. As you did me the honour to refer +to something I had written, I thought myself bound in politeness to +reply, and am + +Your obedient servant, + +AN A.R. IN THE B. DE B.-W.'s OFFICE." + + * * * * * + +A STRAIGHT TIP TO CANADIAN "CROSS COVES." + + 'Tis nice "in a Canadian Canoe" + To practise what the ribald call "canoodling;" + But what the deuce does the Dominion do, + "In _this_ galley," with this new game of "boodling?" + "Paddle your own Canoe," dear, if you will, + But kick all "cross coves" out, and trust to honest skill. + + * * * * * + +JOURNAL OF A ROLLING STONE. + +TENTH ENTRY. + +DICK FIBBINS, my more or less "learned" instructor in practical law, +goes out to a good many evening parties, I find. Casually remarks that +he "danced three square dances, the other night, with old DAVIS's ugly +daughter, the Solor (legal slang for Solicitor), in Caraway Street." +It's DAVIS himself, not the daughter, that is the Solicitor, and, it +seems she introduced the gay FIBBINS to her Papa. Hence another brief, +a rather complicated one, on some dispute about a mortgage. + +[Illustration] + +On the morning when the case is to come into Court, DICK the +Brief-hunter, who has promised to take me there, seems nervous. Yet he +is still confident that, if "old PROSER" is the judge, he will "pull +the thing off." It will be, apparently, a case of "Pull FIBBINS, pull +PROSER." + +In Court I occupy a seat just behind him, because--as he +observes--I've been "grinding away at the case, and know the subject +down to the ground"--which I don't think _he_ does. I therefore am to +act as his reserves, also as his prompter, and to supply him with the +names of cases which he has forgotten, and which he wishes to quote. +Rather a responsible position. Should feel more confidence in result +if FIBBINS had told me of this prompter arrangement before the very +morning when the trial comes on. + +"Old PROSER," appears to my untutored gaze to be rather a dignified +occupant of the Bench. I don't know whether he cherishes any personal +or professional animosity against DICK FIBBINS, but directly the +latter opens his mouth to begin, PROSER seems inclined to jump down +it. + +"A complicated case of foreclosure?" he growls. "You needn't tell us +that. All foreclosure cases are complicated. _I_ ever saw one yet that +wasn't." + +FIBBINS goes along unimpeded for a minute or two, PROSER having thrown +himself back with an air of resigned inattention, one of the other +Judges taking furtive notes, and the third resting his elbows on his +desk, and his head on his elbows, and eyeing _me_ with a stony and +meaningless stare. Can he suddenly have gone mad? + +I have no time to consider this interesting point, as FIBBINS is again +in difficulties about some precedent that he wants to quote, but which +he has forgotten, and turns sharply round on me, saying, in a fierce +whisper-- + +"What the doose _is_ that case?" + +I look hurriedly down on the sheet of paper on which (as I fancy) I +have jotted down the authorities bearing on the subject, and reply, +also in a whisper--"_Cookson and Gedge_." + +"The Court, m'luds," FIBBINS airily proceeds, as if he were indebted +entirely to his own memory for the information, "held in _Cookson and +Gedge_ that a mortgagor who desires to foreclose--" + +"Where is the case you mention?" suddenly asks the Judge who was +staring at me a moment ago. He is now engaged in first looking at my +instructor suspiciously, and then at me, as if he thought that there +was some horrible secret between us, which he is determined to probe +to the bottom. + +"Volume Six of the _Law Reports_, m'lud." + +"Page?" snaps PROSER. + +"Page 184, m'lud. As I was saying, the Court there held that the right +to foreclose at any reasonable time is not taken away--" + +This time the interruption comes from the Judge who I thought was +going mad, but who now seems to be preternaturally and offensively +sane. + +"It would be odd," he observes, cuttingly, "if any Court _had_ decided +a point about mortgages in _Cookson versus Gedge_, because on looking +at the page to which you have referred us, find that _Cookson and +Gedge_ was _a running-down case_!" + +I glance at the paper before me in consternation; another moment, and +the horrifying fact is revealed to me that the sheet of "authorities" +I have brought with me bears, not on the mortgage case now before the +Court, but on that previous six-guinea matter on which I had given +ROGERS & Co. my valuable Opinion gratis. + +I hear DICK FIBBINS, in this trying position, with the eyes of three +Judges fixed on him, swearing at me under his breath in the most awful +manner. But why did he depend on _me_? Why didn't he get up the case +himself? + +Deprived at one blow of most of his precedents, "shorn"--as the Breach +of Promise Reports puts it--"of its usual attractions," FIBBINS's +speech becomes an impotent affair. He has to quote such cases as he +can remember, and as neither his memory nor his legal knowledge is +great, he presents them all wrongly, and prematurely sits down. I +see PROSER's wrinkled countenance illumined with an exultant smile. +Just as I am moving out of Court (FIBBINS has to "move" _in_ Court), +because I am desirous of avoiding FIBBINS's wrath,--though I feel that +this _fiasco_ is more his fault than mine,--I hear the presiding judge +(the mad one) say to the Defendant's Counsel that he need not trouble +to address them. I know what _that_ means--judgment for the Defendant! + +Chancing half-an-hour later to enter a Strand Restaurant, part of +which, I regret to say, is also a drinking-bar, I am startled at +beholding the identical form and features of FIBBINS himself. He +appears flushed--has two companions with him, to whom he is talking +excitedly. I hear the words--"idiot"--"jackass of a pupil"--"regular +sell"--and; but no, perhaps I had better not repeat all that I _did_ +hear. I decide to seek refreshment elsewhere. + +Over the subsequent scene in FIBBINS's Chambers I prefer to draw a +veil. It is sufficient to say that I was obliged to leave FIBBINS, and +thereafter received a solid half-year's instruction in the Chambers of +a learned Counsel who was not a briefless impostor. + +I heard afterwards that he had added the story to his fund of legal +dining-out anecdotes, and had considerably amplified it. It came out +in a shape which made FIBBINS a hero, myself an imbecile of a rather +malicious kind, PROSER helplessly cowering under FIBBINS's wealth of +arguments, and the other two Judges reduced to admiring silence. I +take this opportunity of stating that if anybody "cowered" in Court on +that memorable occasion, it was certainly not poor old PROSER. + + * * * * * + +THE "DISAPPOINTMENT OF DECEMBER." + + ["It is too early yet (says the _Telegraph_) to announce the + title of the latest of the Laureate's plays, but this much may + be said, that it is written partly in blank verse and partly + in prose, that it is what is known in theatrical circles as + a 'a costume play,' and that the scene is laid in England. It + may, however, interest sensitive dramatists to know that Lord + TENNYSON is liberal enough to place the stage detail wholly in + the competent hands of Mr. DALY. He does not wince if a line + is cut here and there, or protest if a scene or a speech has + to be supplied."] + +[Illustration: A cut here and there will be necessary.] + + Behold, I know not anything,-- + Except that if I write two Acts in verse, + And two in prose, I might do worse + Than having a Four Act song to sing. + + I leave the dress we know to-day; + On English ground my scene I set, + And wonder if I touch as yet, + What we have termed a "_Costume Play!_" + + If I have over-writ, and laid, + It may be here, it may be there, + The fat too thickly on,--with care + To cut it down be not afraid. + + But oh, if here and there I seem + To have half-said what I should say, + Give me the start--I'll fire away, + And keep up the poetic steam-- + + Ay! keep it up in lines that run + As glibly from the Laureate's pen, + That I shall by my fellow men + Be greeted with "That's TENNYSON!" + +In short, it will not be easy, from such scanty information as the +Noble Rhymester has as yet given to the public, to say precisely what +sort of a play this promised comedy, "half in prose, half in blank +verse," will prove itself to be; but it is to be hoped with _The +Promise of May_ still fresh in the memory of many a playgoer, that +the forthcoming effort may not, after all, turn out to merit the +unpromising title of _The Disappointment of December_. + + * * * * * + +A MYSTERIOUSLY MASONIC LINE.--"Oh, for a Lodge in some vast +wilderness!" + + * * * * * + +NOTICE.--Rejected Communications or Contributions, whether MS., +Printed Matter, Drawings, or Pictures of any description, will in no +case be returned, not even when accompanied by a Stamped and Addressed +Envelope, Cover, or Wrapper. To this rule there will be no exception. + + + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Punch, Or The London Charivari, Vol. +101. October 10, 1891, by Various + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PUNCH *** + +***** This file should be named 13994.txt or 13994.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/1/3/9/9/13994/ + +Produced by Malcolm Farmer, William Flis, and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team. + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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