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diff --git a/old/14694.txt b/old/14694.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..7114628 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/14694.txt @@ -0,0 +1,1579 @@ +The Project Gutenberg eBook, Punch, or the London Charivari, Vol. 102, May +14, 1892, by Various, Edited by F. C. Burnand + + +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. 102, May 14, 1892 + +Author: Various + +Release Date: January 14, 2005 [eBook #14694] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-646-US (US-ASCII) + + +***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI, +VOL. 102, MAY 14, 1892*** + + +E-text prepared by Malcolm Farmer, William Flis, and the Project Gutenberg +Online Distributed Proofreading Team + + + +Note: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this + file which includes the original illustrations. + See 14694-h.htm or 14694-h.zip: + (https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/4/6/9/14694/14694-h/14694-h.htm) + or + (https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/4/6/9/14694/14694-h.zip) + + + + + +PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI + +VOL. 102 + +MAY 14, 1892 + + + + + + + +CONFESSIONS OF A DUFFER. + +NO. IX.--THE DUFFER DEER-STALKING. + +I am in favour of Mr. BRYCE's Access to Mountains Bill, and of +Crofters who may be ambitious to cultivate the fertile slopes of all +the Bens in Scotland. In fact, I am in favour of anything that will, +or may, interfere with the tedious toil of Deer-stalking. Mr. BRYCE's +Bill, I am afraid, will do no good. People want Access to Mountains +when they cannot get it; when once they can, they will stay where the +beer is, and not go padding the wet and weary hoof through peat-hogs, +over rocks, and along stupid and fatiguing acclivities, rugged with +heather. Oh, preserve me from Deer-stalking; it is a sport of which I +cherish only the most sombre memories. + +They may laugh, and say it was my own fault, all my misfortune on +the stalk, but a feeling reader will admit that I have merely been +unlucky. My first adventure, or misadventure if you like, was at +Cauldkail Castle, Lord GABERLUNZIE's place, which had been rented by +a man who made a fortune in patent corkscrews. The house was pretty +nearly empty, as everyone had gone south for the Leger, so it fell to +my lot to go out under the orders of the head stalker. He was a man +of six foot three, he walked like that giant of iron, TALUS his name +was, I think, who used to perambulate the shores of Crete, an early +mythical coast-guard. HUGH's step on the mountain was like that of the +red deer, and he had an eye like the eagle's of his native wastes. + +[Illustration: "I had been bitten by an Adder."] + +It was not pleasant, marching beside HUGH, and I was often anxious +to sit down and admire the scenery, if he would have let me. I +had no rifle of my own, but one was lent me, with all the latest +improvements, confound them! Well, we staggered through marshes, under +a blinding sun, and clambered up cliffs, and sneaked in the beds of +burns, and crawled through bogs on our stomachs. My only intervals +of repose were when HUGH lay down on his back, and explored the +surrounding regions with his field-glass. Even then I was not allowed +to smoke, and while I was baked to a blister with the sun, I was wet +through with black peat water. Never a deer could we see, or could +HUGH see, rather, for I am short-sighted, and cannot tell a stag from +a bracken bush. + +At last HUGH, who was crawling some yards ahead, in an uninteresting +plain, broken by a few low round hillocks, beckoned to me to come on. +I writhed up to him, where he lay on the side of one of those mounds, +when he put the rifle in my hand, whispering "Shoot!" + +"Shoot what?" said I, for my head was not yet above the crest of the +hillock. He only made a gesture, and getting my eye-glass above the +level, I saw quite a lot of deer, stags, and hinds, within fifty yards +of us. They were interested, apparently, in a party of shepherds, +walking on a road which crossed the moor at a distance, and had no +thoughts to spare for us. "Which am I to shoot?" I whispered. + +"The big one, him between the two hinds to the left." I took deadly +aim, my heart beating audibly, like a rusty pump in a dry season. +My hands were shaking like aspen leaves, but I got the sight on him, +under his shoulder, and pulled the trigger. Nothing happened, I pulled +the trigger of the second barrel. Nothing occurred. "Ye have the +safety-bolts in," whispered HUGH, and he accommodated that portion of +the machinery, which I do not understand. Was all this calculated to +set a man at his ease? I took aim afresh, pulled the trigger again. +Nothing! "Ye're on half-cock," whispered HUGH, adding some remark in +Gaelic, which, of course, I did not understand. Was it my fault? It +was not my own rifle, I repeat, and the hammers, at half-cock, looked +as high as those of my gun, full-cocked. + +All this conversation had aroused the attention of the deer. Off they +scuttled at full speed, and I sent a couple of bullets vaguely after +them, in the direction of a small forest of horns which went tossing +down a glade. I don't think I hit anything, and HUGH, without making +any remark, took the rifle and strode off in a new direction. I was +nearly dead with fatigue, I was wishing Mr. BRYCE and the British +Tourist my share of Access to Mountains, when we reached the crown of +a bank above a burn, which commanded a view of an opposite slope. HUGH +wriggled up till his eyes were on a level with the crest, and got his +long glass out. After some interval of time, he wakened me, to say +that if I snored like that, I would not get a shot. Then he showed +me, or tried to show me, through the glass, a stag and three hinds, +far off to our right. I did not see them, I very seldom see anything +that people point out to me, but I thought it wise to humour him, and +professed my satisfaction. Was I to shoot at them? No, they were about +half a mile off, but, if I waited, they would feed up to us, so we +waited, HUGH nudging me at intervals to keep me awake. Meanwhile I was +practising aiming at a distant rock, about the place where I expected +to get my shot, as HUGH instructed me. I thought the wretched +rifle was at half-cock, and I aimed away, very conscientiously, for +practice. Presently the rifle went off with a bang, and I saw the +dust fly on the stone I had been practising at. It had not been +at half-cock, after all; warned by my earlier misfortunes, HUGH +had handed the rifle to me cocked. The stag and the hinds were in +wild retreat at a considerable distance. I had some difficulty in +explaining to HUGH, how this accident had occurred, nor did he seem +to share my satisfaction in having hit the stone, at all events. + +We began a difficult march homewards, we were about thirteen miles +now from Cauldkail Castle. HUGH still, from habit, would sit down and +take a view through that glass of his. At last he shut it up, like +WELLINGTON at Waterloo, and said, "Maybe ye'll be having a chance yet, +Sir." He then began crawling up a slope of heather, I following, like +the Prophet's donkey. He reached the top, whence he signalled that +there was a shot, and passed the rifle to me, cocked this time. I took +it, put my hand down in the heather--felt something cold and slimy, +then something astonishingly sharp and painful, and jumped to my feet +with a yell! I had been bitten by an adder, that was all! Now, was +_that_ my fault? HUGH picked up the rifle, bowled over the stag, and +then, with some consideration, applied ammonia to my finger, and made +me swallow all the whiskey we had. + +It was a long business, and Dr. MACTAVISH, who was brought from a +hamlet about thirty miles away, nearly gave me up. My arm was about +three feet in circumference, and I was very ill indeed. I have not +tried Deer-stalking again; and, as I said, I wish the British Tourist +joy of his Access to Mountains. + + * * * * * + +EARLY SPRING. + +[Illustration] + + Once more the North-east wind + Chills all anew, + And tips the redden'd nose + With colder blue; + Makes blackbirds hoarse as crows, + And poets too. + + The town with nipping blasts + How wildly blown; + Around my hapless head + Loose tiles are thrown, + Slates, chimney-pots, and lead + Of weight unknown. + + _My_ tile and chimney-pot + Flies through the air. + My eyes are full of dust, + My head is bare, + A state of things that must + Soon make me swear! + + When thus in early Spring + My joys are few, + I'll warm myself at home + With "Mountain Dew," + Or fly to Nice, or Rome, + Or Timbuctoo. + + * * * * * + +[Illustration: A STUDIED INSULT. + +_Box-Office Keeper at the Imperial Music-Hall_ (_to Farmer Murphy, who +is in Town for the Islington Horse Show_). "BOX OR TWO STALLS, SIR?" + +_Murphy_. "WHAT THE DEV'L D'YE MANE? D'YE TAKE ME AN' THE MISSUS FOR A +PAIR O' PROIZE 'OSSES? OI'LL HAVE TWO SATES IN THE DHRESS CIRCLE, AND +LET 'EM BE AS DHRESSY AS POSSIBLE, MOIND!"] + + * * * * * + +A BIRD OF PREY. + + The Laureate, seeking Love's last law, + Finds "Nature red in tooth and claw + With ravin"; fierce and ruthless. + But Woman? Bard who so should sing + Of her, the sweet soft-bosomed thing, + Would he tabooed as truthless. + + Yet what is this she-creature, plumed + And poised in air? Iris-illumed, + She gleams, in borrowed glory, + A portent of modernity, + Out-marvelling strangest phantasy + That chequered classic story. + + Fair-locked and winged. So HESIOD drew + The legendary Harpy crew, + The "Spoilers" of old fable; + Maidens, yet monsters, woman-faced, + With iron hearts that had disgraced + The slaughterer of ABEL. + + Chimaera dire! The Sirens three, + Ulysses shunned were such as she, + Though robed in simpler raiment. + Is there no modern Nemesis + To deal out to such ghouls as this + Just destiny's repayment? + + O modish Moloch of the air! + The eagle swooping from his lair + On bird-world's lesser creatures, + Is spoiler less intent to slay + Than this unsparing Bird of Prey, + With Woman's form and features. + + Woman? We know her slavish thrall + To the strange sway despotical + Of that strong figment, Fashion; + But is there nought in _this_ to move + The being born for grace and love + To shamed rebellious passion? + + 'Tis a she-shape by Mode arrayed! + The dove that coos in verdant shade, + The lark that shrills in ether, + The humming-bird with jewelled wings,-- + Ten thousand tiny songful things + Have lent her plume and feather. + + They die in hordes that she may fly, + A glittering horror, through the sky. + Their voices, hushed in anguish, + Find no soft echoes in her ears, + Or the vile trade in pangs and fears + Her whims support would languish. + + What cares she that those wings were torn + From shuddering things, of plumage shorn + To make _her_ plumes imposing? + That when--for _her_--bird-mothers die, + Their broods in long-drawn agony + Their eyes--for _her_--are closing? + + What cares she that the woods, bereft + Of feathered denizens, are left + To swarming insect scourges? + On Woman's heart, when once made hard + By Fashion, Pity's gentlest bard + Love's plea all vainly urges. + + A Harpy, she, a Bird of Prey, + Who on her slaughtering skyey way, + Beak-striketh and claw-clutcheth. + But Ladies who own not her sway, + _Will_ you not lift white hands to stay + The shameless slaughter which to-day + Your sex's honour toucheth? + + * * * * * + +THE SEVEN AGES OF WOMAN. + +(_AS SIR JAMES CRICHTON BROWNE SEEMS PROPHETICALLY TO SEE THEM._) + + Woman's world's a stage, + And modern women will be ill-cast players; + They'll have new exits and strange entrances, + And one She will play many mannish parts, + And these her Seven Ages. First the infant + "Grinding" and "sapping" in its mother's arms, + And then the pinched High-School girl, with packed satchel, + And worn anaemic face, creeping like cripple + Short-sightedly to school. Then the "free-lover," + Mouthing out IBSEN, or some cynic ballad + Made against matrimony. Then a spouter, + Full of long words and windy; a wire-puller, + Jealous of office, fond of platform-posing, + Seeking that bubble She-enfranchisement + E'en with abusive mouth. Then County-Councillor, + Her meagre bosom shrunk and harshly lined, + Full of "land-laws" and "unearned increment"; + Or playing M.P. part. The sixth age shifts + Into the withered sour She-pantaloon, + With spectacles on nose and "Gamp" at side, + Her azure hose, well-darned, a world too wide + For her shrunk shanks; her once sweet woman's voice, + Verjuiced to Virgin-vinegarishness, + Grates harshly in its sound. Last scene of all, + That ends this strange new-fangled history, + Is sheer unwomanliness, mere sex-negation-- + Sans love, sans charm, sans grace, sans everything. + + * * * * * + +[Illustration: A BIRD OF PREY.] + +[Despite the laudable endeavours of "The Society for the Protection +of Birds," the harpy Fashion appears still, and even increasingly, +to make endless holocausts of small fowl for the furnishing forth of +"feather trimmings" for the fair sex. We are told that to obtain the +delicate and beautiful spiral plume called the "Osprey," the old birds +"are killed off in scores, while employed in feeding their young, who +are left to starve to death in their nests by hundreds." Their dying +cries are described as "heartrending." But they evidently do not rend +the hearts of our fashionable ladies, or induce them to rend their +much-beplumed garments. Thirty thousand black partridges have been +killed in certain Indian provinces in a few days' time to supply the +European demand for their skins. One dealer in London is said to have +received, as a single consignment, 32,000 dead humming-birds, 80,000 +aquatic birds, and 800,000 pairs of wings. We are told too that often +"after the birds are shot down, the wings are wrenched off during +life, and the mangled bird is left to die slowly of wounds, thirst, +and starvation."] + + * * * * * + +ART IN THE CITY. + +(_A SKETCH IN THE CORPORATION GALLERY AT THE GUILDHALL._) + + _The Gallery is crowded, and there is the peculiar buzz in the + air that denotes popular interest and curiosity. The majority + of the visitors are of the feminine sex, and appear to have + come up from semi-detached villas in the less fashionable + suburbs; but there is also a sprinkling of smart and Superior + Persons, prosperous City Merchants, who regard pictures with + respect, as a paying investment, young Commercial Men, whose + feeling for Art is not precisely passionate, but who have + turned in to pass the time, and because the Exhibition is + gratuitous, earnest Youths with long hair, soft hats, and + caped ulsters, &c., &c._ + +BEFORE DELAROCHE'S "DROWNED MARTYR." + +[Illustration: "Earnest youths with long hair."] + +_First Villa Resident_ (_appreciatively_). Such a _death-like_ +expression, isn't it? + +_Second Ditto, Ditto_. Yes, _indeed_! And _how_ beautifully her halo's +done! + +_Third Ditto, Ditto_. Will those two men on the bank be the +executioners, should you think? + +_Fourth Ditto, Ditto_ (_doubtfully_). It says in the Catalogue that +they're two Christians. + +_An Intelligent Child_. Then why don't they jump in and pull her out, +Mother? [_The Child is reproved._ + +_A Languid Young Lady_. Is that intended for _Opheliah_? + + [_The rest regard her with shocked disapproval, mingled with + pity, before passing on._ + +BEFORE HOLL'S "FATHERLESS FAMILY." + +_First Matter-of-Fact Person_. They're just come back from the +funeral, I _expect_. + +_Second Ditto, Ditto_. I shouldn't wonder. (_Feels bound to show that +she too can be observant._) Yes, they're all in mourning--even the +servant. Do you see the black ribbon in her cap? I _do_ like that. + +_An Irrelevant Person_. It's just a _little_ melancholy, though, don't +you think?--which reminds me--_how_ much did you say that jet trimming +was a yard--nine pence three-farthings? + +_Her Friend_. Nine pence halfpenny at the shop in St. Paul's +Churchyard. The child has her frock open at the top behind, you +see--evidently a _poor_ family! + +_The I.P._ Yes, and the workbasket with the reels of cotton and all. +(_Looking suddenly down_.) Don't you call this a handsome carpet? + +_A Frivolous Frenchman_ (_fresh from 'The Casual Ward' and 'The +Martyr' to his companion_). Tenez, mon cher, encore des choses gaies! + + [_He passes on with a shrug._] + +_A Good Young Man with a train of three Maiden Aunts in tow_ (_halting +them before a picture of_ SIR J. NOEL PATON's). Now you ought to look +at this one. + + [_They inspect it with docility. It represents a Knight in + armour riding through a forest and surrounded by seductive + Wood-nymphs._ + +_First Maiden Aunt_. Is that a guitar one of those girls is playing, +or what? + +_Second Ditto, Ditto_. A mandolin more likely; it looks like +mother-o'-pearl--is it supposed to be King ARTHUR, and are they +fairies or angels, ROBERT? + +_The G.Y.M._ (_a little at sea himself_). "_Oskold and the +Elle-maids_," the _title_ is. + +_Third Aunt_. Scolding the Elements! _Who's_ scolding them, ROBERT? + +_Robert_ (_in her ear_). "_Oskold and the Elle_-maids!" it's a +_Scandinavian_ legend, Aunt TABITHA, + +_Aunt Tabitha_ (_severely_). Then it's a pity they can't find better +subjects to paint, in _my_ opinion! (_They move on to_ Mr. PETTIE's +"_Musician_.") Dear me, that young man looks dreadfully poorly, to be +sure! + +_Robert_ (_loudly_). He's not _poorly_, Aunt; he's a _Musician_--he's +supposed to be (_quoting from Catalogue_) "thinking out a composition, +imagining an orchestral effect, with the occasional help of an organ." + +_First Aunt_. I see the organ plain enough--but where's the orchestral +effect? + +_Robert_. Well, you _wouldn't_ see that, you know, he only _imagines_ +it. + +_Second Aunt_. Oh, yes, I _see_. Subject to _delusions_, poor man! I +_thought_ he looked as if he wanted someone to look after him. + +_First Loyal Old Lady_ (_reading from Catalogue_). "No. 35. 'Lent by +Her Majesty the QUEEN.'" + +_Second Ditto, Ditto_. Lent by HER MAJESTY, my dear! Oh, I don't want +to miss _that_--which is it--where? + + [_She prepares herself to regard it with a special and + reverent interest._ + +AMONG THE PRE-RAPHAELITE PAINTERS. + +_Matter-of-Fact Person_ (_to her Irrelevant Friend_). Here's a +Millais, you see. _Ophelia_ drowning herself. + +_The Irrelevant Friend_ (_who doesn't approve of suicide_). Yes, +dear, very peculiar--but I don't quite _like_ it, I must say. Do you +remember whether I told SARAH to put out the fiddle-pattern forks and +the best cruetstand before I came away? Dear Mr. HOMERTON is coming in +to supper to-night, and I want everything to be _nice_ for him. + +_The Good Young Man_. There's _Ophelia again_, you see. (_Searches +for an appropriate remark._) She--ah--evidently understood the art of +natation. + +_First Aunt_. She looks almost too _comfortable_ in the water, _I_ +think. Her mouth's open, as if she was singing. + +_Second Aunt_ (_extenuatingly_). Yes--but those wild roses are very +naturally done--and so are her teeth. + +_A Discriminating Person_. I like it all but the _figure_. + +_A Well-informed Person_. There's the "_Dream of Dante_," d'ye see? +No mistaking the figure of DANTE. Here he is, down below, _having_ his +dream--that's the dream in that cloud--and up above you get the dream +done life-size--queer sort of idea, isn't it? + +_A Ponderous Person_ (_finding himself in front of "The Vale of +Rest"_). Ha!--what are those two Nuns up to? + +_His Companion_. Digging their own graves, I think. + +_The Pond. P._ (_with a supreme mental effort_). Oh, _Cremation_, eh? + + [_Goes out, conceiving that he has sacrificed at the shrine of + Art sufficiently for one afternoon._ + +_Young Discount_ (_to Young TURNOVER--before "Claudio and +Isabella"_). Something out of SHAKSPEARE here, you see. + +_Young Turnover_. Yairss. (_Giving Claudio a perfunctory attention_.) +Wants his hair raking, don't he? Not much in _my_ line, this sort of +subject. + +_Young Disc._ Nor yet mine--takes too much time making it _out_, +y'know. _This_ ain't bad--"_Venetian Washerwomen_"--is that the way +they get up linen over there? + +_Young Turn._ (_who has "done" Italy_) Pretty much. (_By way of excuse +for them_.) They're very _al fresco_ out in those parts, y' know. +Here's a Market-place in Italy, next to it. Yes, that's just like they +are. They bring out all those old umbrellas and stalls and baskets +twice a-week, and clear 'em all off again next day, so that you'd +hardly know they'd _been_ there! + +_Young Disc._ (_intelligently_). I see. After Yarmouth style. + +_Young Turn._ Well, _something_ that way--only rather different +_style_, y' know. + +BEFORE "THE HUGUENOT." + +_An Appreciative Lady_. Ah! yes, it is wonderfully painted! _Isn't_ it +lovely the way that figured silk is done? You can hardly tell it isn't +real, and the plush coat he's wearing; such an exquisite shade of +violet, and the ivy-leaves, and the nasturtiums and the old red brick; +yes, it's _very_ beautiful--and _yet_, do you know, (_meditatively_) I +almost think it's prettier in the _engravings_! + +BEFORE THE BURNE-JONESES. + +_A Fiance_. This is the "_Wheel of Fortune_," EMILY, you see. +(_Reads._) "Sad, but inexorable, the fateful figure turns the wheel. +The sceptred King, once uppermost, is now beneath his Slave ... while +beneath the King is seen the laurelled head of the Poet." + +_His Fiancee_ (_who would be charming if she would not try--against +Nature--to be funny_.) It's a kind of giddy-go-round then, I +suppose; or is it BURNE-JONES's idea of a revolution--don't you +see--_revolving_? + +_Fiance_ (_who makes a practice--even already--of discouraging these +sallies_.) It's only an allegorical way of representing that the +Slave's turn has come to triumph. + +_Fiancee_. Well, I don't see that he has much to _triumph_ about--he's +tied on like the rest of them, and it must be just as uncomfortable on +the top of that wheel as the bottom. + + [_Her Fiance recognises that allegory is thrown away upon + her, and proposes to take her into the Hall and show her Gog + and Magog._ + +_A Niece_ (_to an Impenetrable Relative--whom she plants, like a heavy +piece of ordnance, in front of a particular canvas_). There, Aunt, +what do you think of _that_ now? + +_The Aunt_ (_after solemnly staring at it with a conscientious effort +to take it in._) Well, my dear, I must say it--it's very 'ighly +varnished. [_She is taken home as hopeless._ + + * * * * * + +COURT CARDS. + +A splendid hand is just now held by Mr. ARTHUR CHUDLEIGH, Sole Lessee +and Manager of the Court Theatre. Full of trumps, honours and odd +tricks. A perfect entertainment in three pieces. You pay your money +and you take your choice. You can come in at 8:15 and see _The +New Sub_, by SEYMOUR HICKS (Brayvo, 'ICKS! and may your success be +Hickstraordinary!) or at 9:15 for W.S. GILBERT's _Rosencrantz and +Guildenstern_, or at 10 for _A Pantomime Rehearsal_, which, as I +remarked long ago on seeing it for the first time, might last for ever +if only judiciously refreshed, say once in every three months, and on +this plan it might continue until it should be played in 1992 by the +great-great-grandchildren of the members of the present company. + +There is one charming line in the bill--a bill which, on account of +its colour, must be "taken as red"--not to be missed by visitors. It +comes immediately after the cast of _The New Sub_; it is this,--"_The +Uniforms by Messrs. Nathan, Coventry Street_." It has a line all +to itself, which is, most appropriately, "a thin red line." Now the +officers in the programme are given as belonging to the "_----shire +Regiment_" i.e., Blankshire Regiment, but as they are all wearing the +Nathan uniform, why not describe them as officers of the Nathanshire +Regiment? Perhaps such a title might be more suggestive of Sheriff's +Officers than of those belonging to Her Majesty's Army; yet, as these +gallant _Dramatis Personae_ are avowedly wearing NATHAN's uniform +(which may they never, never disgrace!) why should they not bear the +proud title of "The First Royal Coventry Street Costumiers"? Let those +most concerned see to it: our advice is gratis, and, at that price, +valuable. + +[Illustration: TWO TRUMPS. + +Brandon Thomas plays the King. Gertrude Queen-and-Kingston.] + +9:15. _Rosencrantz and Guildenstern_. Excellent piece of genuine fun. +If Mr. W.S. GILBERT could be induced to add to it, I am sure it would +stand an extension of ten minutes to allow _Hamlet_ to return and have +a grand combat with the King, and then for all the characters to be +poisoned by mistake, and so to end happily. + +To everyone who does not look upon SHAKSPEARE's work as "Holy Writ," +the question must have occurred, why did the Divine WILLIAMS put his +excellent rules and regulations for play-actors into the mouth of a +noble amateur addressing distinguished members of "_the_ Profession"? +Imagine some royal or noble personage telling HENRY IRVING how to play +_Cardinal Wolsey_, or instructing Sir FREDERICK LEIGHTON in painting, +or telling J.L. TOOLE how to "get his laughs"! Probably actor and +artist would listen in courtier-like silence to the illustrious +lecturer, just as SHAKSPEARE makes his players behave when _Hamlet_ is +favouring them with his views on the histrionic art. In Mr. GILBERT's +skit the leading Player makes a neat retort, and completely shuts +up _Hamlet_,--who, being mad, deserves to be "shut up,"--much to +the delight of King and Court. But, the question remains, why did +SHAKSPEARE ever put this speech to the players in _Hamlet's_ mouth? My +theory is, that he did not want BURBAGE to play the part, but couldn't +help himself, and so, out of pure revenge, he introduced this speech +in which he makes BURBAGE himself condemn all his own faults. Later +on the _Queen_ describes _Hamlet_ as "fat and scant of breath," which +certainly was not the author's ideal Prince of Denmark; and this is +evidently interpolated as "a nasty one" for BURBAGE. At the Court +Theatre the skit is capitally played all round, though I confess I +should have preferred seeing _Hamlet_ made up as a sort of fat and +flabby _Chadband_ puffing and wheezing,--an expression, by the way, +that suggests another excellent performer in this part, namely, +Mr. HERMANN WHEEZIN', who might be induced to appear after a lot of +"puffin'." + +[Illustration: An Awful Moment of Suspense. Mlles. May, Christine, +Ellaline, and Decima implore Lord Arthur Grossnez not to throw up the +part. He cannot refuse them; il _n'ose_ pas.] + +Finally, _A Pantomime Rehearsal_ is still about the very funniest +thing to be seen in any London Theatre at the present time. The ladies +are, all of them, as the old gentleman in _Pink Dominoes_ used to +say, "Pretty dears!" They dance charmingly, especially Miss ELLALINE +TERRISS and Miss DECIMA MOORE, whose two duets and character-dances +are things of joy for ever. The representative of _Jack Deedes_, +Barrister-at-Law and Gifted Author, is LITTLE and good, and the +services of Mr. DRAYCOTT as the Lime-Light Comedian are invaluable. +WEEDON GROSSMITH and BRANDON THOMAS are better than ever: their +duet is immense, but their combat is too short. Why not introduce +a _Corsican Brothers_ duel? The music, by Mr. EDWARD JONES, is +thoroughly appropriate and very catching. By the way, one of the songs +most encored goes with the exquisitely sensible and touching refrain +of "Diddle doddle diddle chip chop cho choorial li lay," which was +enormously popular about thirty years ago when it was sung at EVANS's +by SAM COWELL, and by CHARLES YOUNG as _Dido_ on the stage of the +St. James's Theatre. Odd this! The air has been a bit altered, but I +thought that comic songs once out of date were dead and done for. The +success of this is proof to the contrary. Will "Ta-ra-ra-boom" achieve +a second success in 1922? Perhaps. A capital entertainment, which has +caught on at the Court, says + +THE HUMBLE B. IN BOX. + + * * * * * + +[Illustration: DRAWING-ROOM INANITIES. + +_She_. "NO, DON'T SIT THERE, MR. SPLOSHER--THAT'S MY UGLY SIDE!" + +_He_ (_wishing to please_). "WELL--A--REALLY--I DON'T SEE ANY +DIFFERENCE!"] + + * * * * * + +"NOT AT HOME!" + +(_A DUOLOGUE ON A DOORSTEP._) + + SCENE--_The G.O.M.'s front door. Two expectant callers, + EIGHT-HOURS BILL and Miss SARAH SUFFRAGE, in sore + disappointment and some disgust, interlocute_:-- + +_Mr. Bill_ (_sardonically_). _You_ too? Ah! he ain't no respecter of + pussons, _he_ ain't! + +_Miss Sarah_ (_tartly_). Well, this tries the temper of even a + Suffrage she-saint. + I _did_ think,--but there, you _cannot_ trust Men--even Grand Old Ones! + +_Mr. Bill. Trust_? Them as do trust Party Leaders are gen'rally _sold_ + ones. + It don't a mite matter _which_ side. + +_Miss Sarah_. Well, as far as I see, + The _other_ side shows the most signs, BILL, of favouring Me! + I'm sure Mister BALFOUR was awfully civil and nice. + +_Mr. Bill_. You won't trust Prince ARTHUR too far, if you'll take _my_ + advice. + +_Miss Sarah_. Well, no,--but I _should_ like to pay out--the other. Ah, + drat him! + I'd comb his scant wool, the old fox, could I only get at him. + _I_'d pamphlet the wily old word-spinner. + +_Mr. Bill_. Ah! I've no doubt; + But wot can we do when his flunkey assures us he's out? + +_Miss Sarah. We_'re out, anyhow. + +_Mr. Bill_. Ah! you see you ain't never got _in_. + But me, his old pardner and pal! It's a shame, and a sin! + He's throwed lots of cold water of late. I am blowed if I likes + His wobbleyfied views about Payment of Members, and Strikes. + And then that HOOD bizness! Long rigmarole--cheered by the Tories! + I fear it's all Ikybod now with our G.O.M.'s glories. + +_Miss Suffrage_. I never _quite_ liked him--at heart. Mrs. FAWCETT, + _she_ warned me. + +_Mr. Bill_. Well, now, I _did_ love him! You see, he so buttered and + yarned me; + And now--he won't see me! O WILLYUM, I carn't understand it. + +_Miss Suffrage_. I've asked him politely this time. P'raps next time + I'll _demand_ it. + Unsex me? Aha! I am willing to wager Stonehenge + To a pebble, when canvassing's wanted, I'll have my revenge! + +_Mr. Bill_. And though he seems cocksure the Gen'l Election he'll win, + Maybe if he's _out_ to me always, _he_ may not get _in_! [_Exeunt._ + +_Grand Old Voice_ (_within_). Look nasty! Now have I done wisely this + time--on reflection? + One must be so careful--"in view of the General Election!" + + * * * * * + +RECOLLECTIONS OF (COCKNEY) "ARABIAN" DAYS AND NIGHTS. + + [Mr. MONTAGU WILLIAMS, Q.C., is about to publish, in the + pages of _Household Words_, a series of descriptive articles, + embodying his more than Wellerishly "extensive and peculiar" + knowledge of London, and entitled "Round London, Down East, Up + West."] + + When the breeze of romance in my youth blew free, + "A Welcome Guest" I was wont to see. + It was a right good time with me, + A joyful, book-devouring time. + Far about London I was borne, + From night to night, from morn to morn; + From Street to Park, from Tower to Dock. + I was conveyed "Twice Round the Clock." + True Sala-ite was I and sworn, + For it was in the golden prime + Of graphic GEORGE AUGUSTUS: + And now I find me revelling through + A magazine of saffron hue, + Called "_Sala's Journal_," and I swim + Once more in London's rushing tide, + Piloted as of old by him + Through "London Up to Date." With pride, + I own I have a goodly time, + For still it seems the golden prime + Of graphic GEORGE AUGUSTUS. + + But many another since my youth + The streets of Babylon hath trod, + With a statistic measuring-rod, + Or philanthropic gauge. In sooth + There was GEORGE SIMS, there is CHARLES BOOTH. + We now search out the Social Truth; + A goodly plan, in the old time + Foreshadowed in the golden prime + Of worthy HENRY MAYHEW. + + Now London Labour, London Poor, + Occupy pen and pencil more + Than Pictures in the Passing Show + Of the Immense Metropolis. + And few have knowledge such as his, + (The great Q.C., the worthy Beak!) + Of modern Babylon, high and low; + And so shall I with interest seek + These pages, full of interest, + "_Round London, Down East, and Up West_." + True picture of the present time, + Drawn for us by the pencil prime + Of good MONTAGU WILLIAMS! + + * * * * * + +[Illustration: "NOT AT HOME." + +MISS SARAH SUFFRAGE (_indignantly_). "OH! '_OUT_' IS HE!" + +EIGHT-HOURS BILL (_angrily_). "YUS!--AND HE WON'T GET '_IN_,' IF _I_ +CAN, HELP IT!!" + + (Mr. GLADSTONE has lately published an unsympathetic Pamphlet + on "Female Suffrage," and has declined to receive a Deputation + on the "Eight Hours Day" question.)] + + * * * * * + +[Illustration: AN OVER-EXTENDED FRANCHISE. + +(_The Radical Grocer has just been elected County Councillor._) + +_My Lady_ (_to her pet protegee_). "PRAY WHOM DID YOUR HUSBAND VOTE +FOR?" + +_Martha Stubbs_. "I DON'T KNOW, MY LADY." + +_My Lady_. "BUT SURELY YOUR HUSBAND TOLD YOU?" + +_Martha Stubbs_. "HE DOESN'T KNOW HIMSELF, MY LADY. HE'S SUCH A POOR +IGNORANT CREATURE!"] + + * * * * * + +BURNING WORDS. + +(_FROM A WORKING MAN._) + + ["How many of you men would contribute to a Working Men's Fund + the shilling you put on _Orme_, who, by the way, I am sorry + to see was not poisoned to death."--_Mr. John Burns in the + Park._] + + Look 'ere, JOHN, you stow it; you're nuts on the spoutin'; + I don't mind a man as can 'oller a bit; + And if shillings are goin', I'd back you for shoutin', + Though your game's an Aunt Sally, all miss and no 'it. + But the blusterin' chap as keeps naggin' the boys on + To fight and get beat all for nothing's an ass. + And I'm certain o' this, that the wust kind o' poison + Is the stuff as you fellers 'ave lots of--that's gas! + + What's _Orme_ done to you? _'E_ can't 'elp a cove bettin'. + To get at 'im for that is a trifle too warm. + And poisonin' racers ain't _my_ kind o' vettin'. + I likes a good 'orse, so 'ere's 'ealth to old _Orme_. + Take a bolus yourself, it might stop you from roarin'; + There's nothin' like tryin' these games on yourself! + And I'll throw BENNY TILLETT and one or two more in, + Just to lay the whole lot o' you up on the shelf. + + BEN TILLETT talks big of a mind that's a sewer; + Well, 'e knows what it is, for I'll lay 'e's bin there. + And _you_'d make a 'orse into cat'smeat on skewer. + My eye, but just ain't you a nice-spoken pair! + _I_ ain't goin' to foller you two like a shadder, + Your 'eads is a darned sight too swelled up with brag. + If you don't want to bust and go pop like a bladder, + Why you'd best take my tip--put 'em both in a bag. + + So ta-ta, JOHN. I ain't the least wish to offend you, + But plain words to fellers like you is the best. + If they'd give me my way, why I'd jolly soon end you, + Beard, blather and all; you're no more than a pest. + I can fight and take knocks, and I'll stand by my folk, Sir, + I'll 'elp them as 'elps me with whatever I earns; + But I've this for your pipe, if you're wantin' a smoke, Sir,-- + I ain't one for poison, nor yet for JOHN BURNS! + + * * * * * + +"MURDER IN JEST."--Is it not an extraordinary plea on behalf of a +person under sentence of death for murder, that, like IBSEN's heroine, +"she had never been able to take life in earnest?" Surely it should +be added that "when she took somebody else's life she did take it very +much in earnest." + + * * * * * + +POPULAR SONGS RE-SUNG. + +Writing of the brilliant Boanerges of the Liberal Party, the +_Times_ says:--"Sir WILLIAM is the strongest stimulant known to the +Gladstonian wire-pullers, and his appearance is always an indication +that the vital energies of the patient are low. It is well understood +that his proper place is by his own fireside, and that his true +function is to evolve epigrams and construct original systems of +finance in that calm retreat.... But whenever they feel particularly +downcast and unhappy, they break in upon his fecund meditations, and +get him to fire off a roystering speech." + +This affectionate and admiring tribute from the Thunderer to its +old favourite contributor "HISTORICUS," is worthy of celebrating in +deathless verse. How well a dithyramb on the subject would go to a +certain popular tune! As thus:-- + +NO. VIII.--GET YOUR HARCOURT! + +AIR--"_Get your Hair Cut_!" + + 'Twould serve them right if never I came + From my own fireside again! + The way the "Thunderer" cuts me up + Is vixenish--as vain. + I was born an Opportunist, + In a general sort of way, + But it's really very impertinent + For the _Times_ to grin and say:-- + +_Chorus._ + + "Get your HARCOURT! Get your HARCOURT!" + Oh! whenever I'm on spout, + You can hear the Tories shout, + "Get your HARCOURT! Get your HARCOURT! + To cheer you when your spirits are down!" + + I started in the Buffo line. + When things seem getting slack, + I'm to the front, with lots of go. + My critics may cry "Quack!" + But quacking's not confined to _me_. + I do extremely well, + And the more "I give them physic," why + The more they squirm and yell-- + +_Chorus._ + + "Get your HARCOURT! Get your HARCOURT!" + But they know my sparkling spout-- + Will help to turn them out. + "Get your HARCOURT! Get your HARCOURT!" + But I'll meet them when their sun goes down. + + To play the great "HISTORICUS" part, + I years ago appeared. + The Thunderers stage then knew my art, + But now _that_ pitch is queered! + They swear that I apostatised + To follow W.G., + And patter about "Parnellite juice," + And holloa after me-- + +_Chorus._ + + "Get your HARCOURT! Get your HARCOURT!" + But, with quip, and jibe, and flout, + I completely put them out. + "Get your HARCOURT! Get your HARCOURT!" + But I beat them, and their sun goes down! + + They try all sorts of "counters" to + My slogging strokes--in vain. + The "Thunderer" slates me every day, + But still I slog again. + Old W.G. in 'Ninety-Three + May form a Cabinet; + Then his first thought will be of Me, + And all will cry (you bet!)-- + +_Chorus._ + + "Get your HARCOURT! Get your HARCOURT! + Whoever may stand out, + Malwood's Squire must join, no doubt. + Get your HARCOURT! Get your HARCOURT!" + And _I'll_ mock them when their sun goes down! + + * * * * * + +TO THE GRAND OLD TORY. + +(_BY THE WIFE OF A DISSENTING CUMBRIAN WORKMAN_.) + + O WILLIAM, you have managed to offend. + The Workmen, and the Women, and the Welsh. + Beware, or you'll discover ere the end + That the _three_ W.'s the great _one_ can squelch! + + * * * * * + +[Illustration: ENCOURAGING, VERY! + +_Cockney Art-Teacher_ (_newly arrived and nervous--after a long +silence_). "IF YOU _SHOULD_ SEE A CHANCE O' DRORIN' ANYTHING +CORRECTLY--DO SO!!" [_Collapse of expectant Student._] + + * * * * * + +ESSENCE OF PARLIAMENT. + +EXTRACTED FROM THE DIARY OF TOBY, M.P. + +_House of Commons. Monday, May 2_.--"Would that midnight or Closure +would come!" murmured Prince ARTHUR just now, looking wearily up at +clock. + +It is only eleven; still another hour; hard even for trained nerves. +For more than six hours been discussing Scotch Equivalent Grant. +CLARK's musical voice has floated through the House by the half hour. + +[Illustration: "Curling himself up with delight."] + +"A bagpipe with bronchitis nothing to it," says FARQUHARSON, curling +himself up with delight as he hears sounds that remind him of +his mountain home. HUNTER has relentlessly pursued the unhappy +LORD-ADVOCATE, and CALDWELL has thoroughly enjoyed himself. His life, +it will be remembered, was temporarily blighted by action of ROBERTSON +when he was Lord-Advocate. Got up, following CALDWELL in debate, and +dismissed a subject in a quarter of an hour's speech without reference +to oration hour-and-half long with which CALDWELL had delighted House. +Don't remember what the subject was, but never forget CALDWELL's +seething indignation, his righteous anger, his withering wrath. +ROBERTSON smiled in affected disregard; but very soon after he found +it convenient to withdraw from the focus of CALDWELL's eye, and take +refuge on the Scotch Bench. As for CALDWELL, he withdrew his support +from Ministers, tore up his ticket of membership as a Unionist, and +returned to the Gladstonian fold. A tragic story which SCOTT might +have worked up into three volumes had he been alive. He is not, but +CALDWELL is, and so are we--at least partially after this six hours' +talk round rates in Scotland, whether at ten shillings per head or +twelve shillings. At half past eleven human nature could stand it no +longer; progress reported although there still remained half-an-hour +available time. + +_Business done_.--Scotch Members avenged Culloden. + +[Illustration: "The Nose have it."] + +_Tuesday_.--"Rather a mean thing for MARJORIBANKS to bolt in this way, +don't you think?" said CAMPBELL-BANNERMAN, walking out of House when +SINCLAIR showed signs of following CALDWELL. "Says he has some County +Council meeting in Scotland. Went off by train last night; promised +to be back on Thursday. We'll see. When he made that arrangement he +thought Scotch Bill would be through to-night; but it won't. Will +certainly go over to Thursday. So Master MARJORIBANKS will find +himself caught when he comes back. Meanwhile he's escaped to-day and +some hours of last night, which is something. As for me, I've stuck +to my post, and will very probably die at it. Go in and listen to +SINCLAIR, dear boy, following CALDWELL, succeeded by ESSLEMONT. with +CLARK in reserve. I think you'll enjoy yourself." + +So I did; thoroughly pleasant afternoon from two o'clock to seven. +LORD-ADVOCATE visibly growing leaner in body, greyer in face. +CAMPBELL-BANNERMAN's usually genial temperament souring, as will +be observed from remarks quoted above. J.B. BALFOUR looking in from +Edinburgh professes thoroughly to enjoy the business. But then +he's fresh to it. Pretty large attendance of Members, but reserve +themselves solely for Division. When bell rings three hundred odd come +trooping in to follow the Whips into either lobby; then troop forth +again. Long JOHN O'CONNOR beams genially down on scene. + +"Glad you're having this for a change," he says. "You grumble when +we Irish take the floor. Now the Scotch will oblige. Hope you'll like +Caledonian and CALDWELL better than Home Rule and Erin G. O'BRIEN." + +"Yes, I do," I boldly answered. Only distraught between conflicting +charms of CALDWELL and SINCLAIR. There is a cold massivity about +SINCLAIR, a pointedness of profile, when he declares "the Nose have +it." But there is a loftiness about CALDWELL's tone, a subdued fire in +his manner when he is discussing the difference between a rate of ten +shillings and one of twelve, a withering indignation for all that is +false or truculent (in short, anything connected with the office of +Lord-Advocate) that strangely moves the listener. The very mystery +of his ordinary bearing weaves a spell of enchantment around him. +For days and weeks he will sit silent, watchful, with his eye on the +paralysed Scotch Law Officers. Then, suddenly, as in this debate +on the Equivalent Grant, he comes to the front, and pours forth an +apparently inexhaustible flood of argumentative oratory, delivered +with exhilarating animation. "Give me Peebles for pleasure," said +the loyal Lowlander home from a fortnight's jaunt in Paris. "Give me +CALDWELL for persuasive argument," says PLUNKET, himself a born orator +who has missed scarcely five minutes of this two days' debate. + +[Illustration: CANDIDATE CATCHING.] + +Curious how influence of the hour permeates and dominates everything, +even to the distant Lake Ny'yassa. Question asked when House met as to +how things were going on there under Commissioner JOHNSTON. No one at +all surprised when, in reply, LOWTHER referred to the "two powerful +Chiefs, JUMBE and MCPONDA." Should like to hear the views of the last +gentleman on the Scotch Equivalent Grant, its application to secondary +education in Scotland, and the probable ultimate destination of the +L25,000 allotted to parochial boards. + +_Business done_.--More of the Scotch Equivalent Grant. + +[Illustration: Effect of a great big D in the House.] + +_Wednesday_.--May Day passed off quietly enough; but you can't have +air charged with electricity, and your back-cellars filled with +dynamite, without danger of explosion. Burst to-day in unlooked-for +place, in unexpected circumstances. HALDANE brought in Bill providing +that ratepayers should share with Duke of WESTMINSTER and other great +landowners benefit of unearned increment. Prospect alluring, but +debate not exhilarating. House nearly empty; ASQUITH delivering able +but not exciting speech in favour of Bill. Just sort of time and +circumstances when, in another place, Judge might be expected to fall +asleep on Bench. Citizen ROBERT GALNIGAD BONTINE CUNINGHAME GRAHAM, +sitting on Bench behind ASQUITH, listening like the rest of us to +his well-ordered argument. The Citizen a little tired with Sunday's +peregrination. Been walking about all day with stout stick in hand, +and blood-red handkerchief in pocket, ready for any emergency. At +favourable moment blood-red handkerchief would flash forth, tied on to +stick with timely twine, and there's your flag! Republic proclaimed; +Citizen GRAHAM first President, under title GALNIGAD I., and before +Secretary-of-State MATTHEWS quite knew where he was, he would be +viewing the scene from an elevated position pendant in Trafalgar +Square. + +Chance had not come; GRAHAM still plain Citizen, in House of Commons +listening to commonplace proposals about unearned increment. This +evidently wouldn't do. Suddenly jumped up; shook fist at back of +ASQUITH's unoffending head, and, _a propos de bottes_, "wanted to know +about the swindling companies and their shareholders?" + +ASQUITH really hadn't been saying anything about them; turning round +beheld Citizen GRAHAM glaring upon him, throwing about his arms as if +he were semaphore signalling to the rearguard of Republican Army. + +"Order! Order!" cried SPEAKER, sternly. + +"Oh, you can suspend me if you like," said Citizen GRAHAM, airily, as +if it were no hanging matter. Members angrily joined in cry of "Order! +Order!" SPEAKER promptly "named" the Citizen--not with his full list +of names, for time was pressing. + +"Name away!" roared the Citizen, whom nothing could disconcert. HOME +SECRETARY having no fear of the lamppost before his eyes, formally +moved that the Citizen be suspended. GRAHAM snapped his fingers at +HOME SECRETARY. "Suspend away!" he shouted. + +[Illustration: "Hair slowly uplifting."] + +Members looked on aghast. ROWLANDS standing at the Bar, conscious of +his hair slowly uplifting. Belonged to the advanced guard himself; +but this going little too far. LUBBOCK, sitting near Citizen, +strategically attempted to change the conversation. "Did you ever," he +said, blandly, "notice how the queen bee, when she is--" + +"Oh, you bee ----" said the Citizen, roughly shaking off the gentle +Bee-master. + +SAM SMITH shudderingly covered his face with his hands. "I'm so +afraid," he whispered, "of the old A-dam coming out." And it did, +Citizen GRAHAM himself immediately after going out, stopping at the +Bar to shuffle through a few steps of the Carmagnole, and trumpet +defiance on his blood-red handkerchief. + +After this, a mere flash of lightning through the low clouds of a dull +afternoon, ASQUITH went on with his speech, debate proceeded as if +nothing had happened, and HALDANE's Bill thrown out by 223 Votes +against 148. _Business done_.--Citizen GRAHAM suspended. + +_Friday_.--House met to-day as it did yesterday and day before to +discuss Bills and Motions. But all the talk really turns upon date of +Dissolution, and what is likely to happen after a General Election. +SQUIRE OF MALWOOD serenely confident in the future. + +"Yes," I said to him to-night, "it must be a great comfort to you to +reflect that when you come into office you will not have to beat about +for a programme. You've got your Newcastle platform, and I suppose a +Liberal Ministry will stand upon that." + +"You remind me, dear TOBY," said the Squire, with a far-away look, "of +a story COLERIDGE brought home from his memorable visit to the United +States. On his way down to Chicago he went out on the platform of the +car to breathe the air and look at the scenery. 'Come off that,' said +the Conductor, following him, 'you can't stand on the platform.' 'My +good man,' said JOHN DUKE--you know his silver voice and his bland +manner--'what is a platform for, if not to stand on?' 'Platforms,' +said the Conductor, sententiously, 'are not made to stand on, they are +made to get in on.'" + +_Business done_.--Miscellaneous. + + * * * * * + +ON THE ROW AMONG THE ROMANCERS. + + Trust me, scribes who fight and jeer, + From yon blue heavens above us bent, + DICKENS and THACKERAY and SCOTT + Smile at the grumbling Yankee gent. + + Howe'er it be, it seems to me + A Novel needs but to be _good_; + Romancer's more than Realist, + And True Love's course than too much "Blood"! + + * * * * * + +TOO CONSCIENTIOUS.--"As a protest against gambling in connection with +_Orme_," Mr. W. JOHNSTON, M.P., refused to attend a meeting at the +Duke of WESTMINSTER's "for the prevention of the demoralisation of the +uncivilised heathen races." Does Mr. W.J. include the Derby among the +"heathen races" in connection with _Orme_? + + * * * * * + +QUITE APPROPRIATE.--"Acorse," says ROBERT, "it's the rite thing as +that the Orse Show at Hislington should be honnerd with the pressince +of the LORD MARE." + + * * * * * + +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 PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI, VOL. +102, MAY 14, 1892*** + + +******* This file should be named 14694.txt or 14694.zip ******* + + +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: +https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/4/6/9/14694 + + + +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. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. 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