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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Punch, Or The London Charivari, Vol. 103,
+September 10, 1892, 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. 103, September 10, 1892
+
+Author: Various
+
+Release Date: February 28, 2005 [EBook #15196]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PUNCH ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Malcolm Farmer, William Flis, and the PG Online
+Distributed Proofreading Team.
+
+
+
+
+
+PUNCH,
+
+OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.
+
+VOL. 103.
+
+
+
+September 10, 1892.
+
+
+
+
+WHY I DON'T WRITE PLAYS.
+
+(_FROM THE COMMON-PLACE BOOK OF A NOVELIST._)
+
+Because it is so much pleasanter to read one's work than to hear it on
+the Stage.
+
+Because Publishers are far more amiable to deal with than
+Actor-Managers.
+
+Because "behind the scenes" is such a disappointing place--except in
+Novels.
+
+Because why waste three weeks on writing a Play, when it takes only
+three years to compose a Novel?
+
+Because Critics who send articles to Magazines inviting one to
+contribute to the Stage, have no right to dictate to us.
+
+Because a fairly successful Novel means five hundred pounds, and a
+fairly successful Play yields as many thousands--why be influenced by
+mercenary motives?
+
+Because all Novelists hire their pens in advance for years, and have
+no time left for outside labour.
+
+And last, and (perhaps) not least, Why don't I send in a Play? Because
+I _have_ tried to write _one_, and find I can't quite manage it!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+According to recent accounts, the attitude of the Salvation Army in
+Canada may be fairly described as "Revolting."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration: EQUIVOCAL.
+
+_Rising Young Physician_ (_who cured so many Patients in last year's
+Epidemic_). "NOT MUCH CHANCE OF MORE INFLUENZA IN ENGLAND _THIS_
+WINTER, I FANCY!"
+
+_His Wife._ "LET US HOPE FOR THE BEST, DEAREST!"]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+A DIARY OF THE DEAD SEASON.
+
+(_SUGGESTED BY THE CONTENTS BILLS._)
+
+_Monday._--First appearance of "the Epidemic." Good bold line with
+reference to Russia. Not of sufficient importance to head the Bill,
+but still distinctly taking.
+
+_Tuesday._--Quite a feature. Centre of the Bill with sub-lines of
+"Horrible Disclosures," and "Painful Scenes." Becoming a boom. To be
+further developed to-morrow.
+
+_Wednesday._--Bill all "Epidemic." Even Cricket sacrificed to make
+room for it. "News from Abroad." "Horrors at Hamburg." No idea it
+would turn out so well. A perfect treasure-trove at this quiet season
+of the year!
+
+_Thursday._--Nothing but "Epidemic"--"Arrival in
+England"--"Precautions Everywhere." Let the boom go! It feeds itself!
+Nearly as good as a foreign war!
+
+_Friday._--Still "the Epidemic," but requires strengthening.
+"Spreading in the Provinces," but still, not like it was. Falling
+flat.
+
+_Saturday._--A good sensational Murder! The very thing for the
+Contents Bills. Exit "the Epidemic," until again wanted.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+SONGS OF SOCIETY;
+
+I.--INTRODUCTORY. TO MY LYRE.
+
+    ["Smoothly written _vers de Société_, where a _boudoir_
+    decorum is, or ought always to be, preserved; where sentiment
+    never surges into passion, and where humour never overflows
+    into boisterous merriment."--_Frederick Locker's Preface to
+    "Lyra Elegantiarum."_]
+
+[Illustration]
+
+  Dear Lyre, your duty now you know!
+  If one would sing with grace and glow
+          Songs of Society,
+  One must not dream of fire, or length,
+  Or vivid touch, or virile strength,
+          Or great variety.
+
+  Among the Muses of Mayfair
+  A Bacchanal with unbound hair,
+          And loosened girdle,
+  Would be as purely out of place
+  As Atalanta in a race
+          O'er hedge or hurdle:
+
+  Our Muse, dear Lyra, must be trim,
+  Must not indulge in vagrant whim,
+          Of voice or vesture.
+  Boudoir decorum will allow
+  No gleaming eye, no glowing brow,
+          No ardent gesture.
+
+  Society, which is our theme,
+  Is like a well-conducted stream
+          Which calmly ripples.
+  We sing the World where no one feels
+  Too pungently, or hates, or steals,
+          Or loves, or tipples.
+
+  And should you hint that down below
+  The subtle siren all men know
+          Is hiding _her_ face,
+  Our answer is: "That may be true,
+  But boudoir bards have nought to do
+          Save with the surface."
+
+  And therefore, though Society feel
+  The Proletariat's heavy heel
+          Its kibe approaching,
+  Some luxuries yet are left to sing,
+  The Opera-Box, the Row, the Ring,
+          And Golf, and Coaching.
+
+  Not e'en the Socialistic scare
+  The dandyish and the debonair
+          Has quite demolished;
+  Whilst Privilege hath still a purse,
+  There's yet a chance for flowing verse,
+          And periods polished.
+
+  If IBSEN, BELLAMY, and GEORGE,
+  Raise not the boudoir critic's gorge
+          Beyond all bearing,
+  Light lyrics may she not endure,
+  On social ills above her cure,
+          Below her caring?
+
+  Muse, with Society we may toy
+  Without impassioned grief or joy,
+          Or boisterous merriment;
+  May sing of Sorrow with a smile;
+  At least, it may be worth our while
+          To try the experiment.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+QUITE THE TREBLE GLOUCESTER CHEESE!--The Three Quires' Festival this
+week. Do the Three Quires appear in the Cathedral? If so, as each
+quire means twenty-four sheets, there'll he quite a "Surplice Stock."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+CONTRIBUTION BY OUR OWN "MULEY HASSAN."--_Puzzle_--To find "three
+Single Gentlemen rolled into one?" _Answer_--Sir EUAN SMITH.
+_Explanation_--Sir, You, an' SMITH. [_Exit_ MULEY HASSAN _going to
+Bray._
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Why ought a Quack's attendance on a patient to be gratis?--Because he
+is No-Fee-sician.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration: "LA-BOUCHE-RE(-NARD) ET LES RAISINS."]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration: A MERE PREJUDICE.
+
+_Tourist._ "I SEE YOU EMPLOY A GOOD MANY WOMEN ABOUT HERE, FARMER."
+
+_Farmer._ "HAVE TO DO, HARVEST-TIME, SIR; BUT FOR MYSELF I MUCH PREFER
+MANUAL LABOUR!"]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+MORE REASONS FOR STOPPING IN TOWN.
+
+_Commodore Buncombe._ Because I know those infernal Tentonners, and
+---- Chartreuse jaune only makes me worse.
+
+_William Sikes._ Because of the gross incompetence of my Counsel,
+and the ridiculous adverse prepossessions of the Jury at my recent
+appearance in public at the C.C.C.
+
+_McStinger._ Because there's bonny braw air on the braes of Hampstead,
+and it costs but a bawbee to get intil it.
+
+_Fitz-Fluke._ Because, since that awkward affair at the Roulette Club,
+my country invitations haven't come in.
+
+_Capel Courtney._ Because those beastly bucket-shops have collared all
+our business.
+
+_Bumpshus, M.P._ Because the Lords of the Treasury (shabby crew
+of place-hunters) declined to adopt my suggestion, and to place a
+trooper, thoroughly well found, victualled, and overhauled, at the
+disposal of any Members of the Lower House whose profound sense of
+duty, and of the importance of the Imperial Federation idea, impelled
+them to take a six-months' trip round the world at the nation's
+expense.
+
+_Theodore John Hook Straight._ Because of the old trouble--"got a
+complaint in the chest."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration: PHILLIPOPOLIS.
+
+_Toper Major_ (_over their third bottle of a Grand Vin_). I shay,
+ol' f'ler, neksh year thinksh'll go see ex'bishun at Ph-Phipp--at
+Philup-popple--
+
+_Toper Minor._ I know, ol'f'ler. You mean Philipoppoppo--poppo--
+
+_Toper Major._ Thatsh it--shame place. Have 'nother bo'l!
+
+[_They drink._]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"THE SPEECH OF MONKEYS."--Professor R.L. GARNER, who is a great
+hand at "getting his Monkey up" (he was naturally a bit annoyed at
+being, quite recently, accidentally prevented from giving his Monkey
+lecture), is about to commence operations by adapting the old song
+of "_Let us be Happy Together_" to Monkey Language, when it will
+re-appear as "_Let us be Apey Together_." It will be first given at
+Monkey Island on Thames.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+CRICKETERS WHO OUGHT TO BE GOOD HANDS AT PLAYING A TIE.--"The Eleven
+of Notts."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+UN-BROCKEN VOWS.
+
+Walpurgis Brocken Night at Crystal Palace last Thursday--Grand!
+Jupiter Pluvius suspended buckets, and celestial water-works rested
+awhile to make way for Terrestrial Fire-works. "Todgers's can do it
+when it likes," as all Martin-Chuzzlewiters know, and BROCK can do it
+too when _he_ likes. _À propos_ of DICKENS' quotation above, it is
+on record that _Mr. Pickwick_ was once addressed as "Old Fireworks."
+Where? When? and How? _Mr. Pickwick_, we are led to infer by the
+commentary thereon, somewhat objected to the term, unless our
+Pickwickian memory fail us--which is not improbable--but Mr. BROCK
+would appropriate it to himself with pleasure, and be "'proud o' the
+title' as the Living Skeleton said." Despite wind and weather, and
+_contretemps_ generally, BROCK has never brocken faith with the
+public. "_Facta non verba_" is his motto: and "_Facta_" means (here)
+Fire-works.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"GREAT BRITAIN AND THE GILBERT ISLANDS."--Captain DAVIS of H.M. Screw
+Cruiser _Royalist_, on May 27, formally annexed "The Gilbert Islands."
+Where was SULLIVAN? Or is it that Sir ARTHUR, having been annexed as a
+Knight, was unable to interfere? Will D'OYLY CARTE explain?
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+THE MENAGERIE RACE.
+
+    SCENE--_The terrace in front of Hauberk Hall, which the_
+    LARKSPURS _have taken for the Summer_. TIME--_An August
+    afternoon. Miss STELLA LARKSPUR--a young lady with great
+    energy and a talent for organisation--has insisted upon all
+    the Guests taking part in a Menagerie Race._
+
+_The Rev. Ninian Headnote, the Local Curate_ (_to Mr. PLUMLEY
+DUFF--after uneasily regarding Miss STELLA, as she shakes up some
+pieces of folded paper in a hat_). Can you give me any idea of the
+precise nature of this amusement--er--nothing resembling a gambling
+transaction, I suppose?--or I really--
+
+_Mr. Plumley Duff_. Well, I'm given to understand that we shall each
+be expected to take an animal of some sort, and drive it along with a
+string tied to its leg. Sounds childish--to _me_.
+
+_The Curate_ (_relieved_). Oh, exactly, I see. Most entertaining,
+I'm sure! (_He coos._) What wonderful ingenuity one sees in devising
+ever-fresh pastimes, do we not? Indeed, yes!
+
+_Miss Stella_. There, I've shuffled all the animals now. (_Presenting
+the hat_.) Mr. HEADNOTE, will you draw first?
+
+_The Curate_. Oh, really. Am I to take one of these? Charmed! (_He
+draws._) Now I wonder what my fate--(_Opening the paper_.) The Monkey!
+(_His face falls._) _Is_ there a Monkey here? _Dear_ me, how _very_
+interesting!
+
+_Dick Gatling_ (_of H.M. Gunboat "Weasel"_). Brought him over my
+last cruise from Colombo. No end of a jolly little beast--bites like
+the--like _blazes_, you know!
+
+_Miss Stella_ (_to her Cousin_). Now, DICK, I won't have you taking
+away poor Jacko's character like that. He's only bitten BINNS--and,
+well, there _was_ the gardener's boy--but I'm sure he _teased_ him.
+_You_ won't tease him, will you, Mr. HEADNOTE?
+
+_The Curate_. I--I shouldn't dream of it, Miss STELLA,--on the
+contrary, I--(_To himself._) Was it quite discreet to let myself
+be drawn into this? Shall I not risk lowering my office by publicly
+associating myself with a--a Monkey? I feel certain the Vicar would
+disapprove strongly.
+
+_Dick_ (_to Colonel KEMPTON_). Drawn _your_ animal yet, Sir?
+
+_The Colonel_ (_heatedly_). Yes, I have--and I wish I'd kept out of
+this infernal tomfoolery. Why the mischief don't they leave a man in
+peace and quietness on a hot afternoon like this? Here am I, routed
+out of a comfortable seat to go and drive a confounded White Rabbit,
+Sir! Idiotic, _I_ call it!
+
+_The Curate_. Pardon me, Colonel KEMPTON; but if you object to the
+Rabbit, I would not at all mind undertaking it myself--and you could
+take my Monkey--
+
+_The Colonel_. Thanks--but I won't deprive you. A Rabbit is quite
+responsibility enough for me!
+
+_The Curate_ (_to himself, disappointed_). He's afraid of a poor
+harmless Monkey--and he an Army man, too! But I _don't_ see why _I_--
+
+_Miss Gussie Grissell_. Oh, Mr. HEADNOTE, _isn't_ it ridiculous!
+They've given me a Kitten! It makes me feel too absurdly young!
+
+_The Curate_ (_eagerly_). If you would prefer a--a more appropriate
+animal, there's a Monkey, which I am sure--(_To himself, as Miss
+G. turns away indignantly_). This Monkey doesn't seem very
+popular--there must be _someone_ here who--I'll try the American
+Lady--they are generally eccentric. (_To Mrs. HEBER K. BANGS._) I hope
+Fortune has been kind to you, Mrs. BANGS?
+
+_Mrs. Bangs_. Well, I don't know; there _are_ quadrupeds that can trot
+faster over the measured mile than a Tortoise, and that's _my_ animal.
+
+_The Curate_ (_with sympathy_). Dear me! That is a trial, indeed, for
+you! But if you would prefer something rather more exciting, I should
+be most happy, I'm sure, to exchange my Monkey--
+
+_Dick Gatling_ (_bustling up_). Hallo, what's that? No, no, Mrs.
+BANGS--be true to your Tortoise. I tell you he's going to romp
+in--Æsop's tip, don't you know? I've backed you to win or a place. I
+say, what do you think _I_'ve drawn--the Mutton! Just my luck!
+
+_The Curate_. DICK, just come this way a moment--I've a proposition
+to make; it's occurred to me that the Monkey would feel more--more at
+home with you, and, in short, I--
+
+_Mr. Plumley Duff_ (_plaintively, to Miss CYNTHIA CHAFFERS_). I
+shouldn't have minded any other animal--but to be paired off with a
+Goose!
+
+_Miss Chaffers_ (_consolingly_). You're better off than _I_ am, at all
+events--I've got a Puppy!
+
+_Mr. Duff_. Have you? (_After a pause--sentimentally_.) Happy Puppy!
+
+_Miss C._ He'll be anything but a happy Puppy if he doesn't win.
+
+_Mr. Duff_. Oh, but he's sure to. I know I would, if _I_ was your
+Puppy!
+
+_Miss C._ I'm not so sure of that. Don't they lodge objections, or
+something, for boring?
+
+_Mr. Fanshawe_. Can anybody inform me whether I'm expected to go and
+catch my Peacock? Because I'll be hanged if--
+
+_The Curate_. Oh, Miss STELLA, it's all right--Mr. GATLING thinks
+that it would be better if he undertook the Monkey himself; so we've
+arranged to--
+
+_Miss Stella_. Oh, nonsense, DICK! I can't have you taking advantage
+of Mr. HEADNOTE's good-nature like that. What's the use of drawing
+lots at all if you don't keep to them? Of _course_ Mr. HEADNOTE will
+keep the Monkey.
+
+    [_The unfortunate Curate accepts his lot with Christian
+    resignation_.
+
+_Dick_. Well, _that's_ settled--but I say, STELLA, where's my Mutton's
+moorings--and what's to be the course?
+
+_Stella_. The course is straight up the Avenue from the Lodge to the
+House, and I've told them to get all the beasts down there ready for
+us; so we'd better go at once.
+
+THE START.
+
+_The Competitors_. STELLA, my dear, _mustn't_ Miss GRISSELL tell her
+kitten not to claw my Tortoise's head every time he pokes his poor
+nose out? It isn't fair, and it's damping all his enthusiasm!... Now,
+Colonel KEMPTON, it isn't the Puppy's fault--you _know_ your Rabbit
+began it!... Hi, STELLA, hold on a bit, my Mutton wants to lie down.
+Mayn't I kick it up!... DUFF, old chap, your Goose is dragging her
+anchor again, back her engines a bit, or there'll be a foul.... Miss
+STELLA, I--I really _don't_ think this Monkey is quite well--his teeth
+are chattering in such a _very_.... All right, _padre_, only his nasty
+temper--jerk the beggar's chain. More than _that_!
+
+_Chorus of Spectators at Lodge Gates_. My word, I wonder what next the
+gentry'll be up to, I dew. Ain't Miss STELLA orderin' of 'en about!
+Now she's started 'en. They ain't not allowed to go 'ittin of 'en--got
+to go just wheeriver the animiles want. Lor, the guse is takin _his_
+genlm'n in among the treeses! Well, if iver I did! That theer tartus
+gits along, don't he? Passon don't seem com'fable along o' that
+monkey. I'll back the young sailor gent--keeps that sheep wunnerful
+stiddy, he do. There's the hold peacock puttin' on a bust now. Well,
+well, these be fine doin's for 'Auberk 'All, and no mistake. Make old
+Sir HALBERD stare if he was 'ere, &c., &c.
+
+_The Colonel_ (_wrathfully to his Rabbit, which will do nothing but
+run round and round him_). Stop that, will you, you little fool. Do
+you want to trip me up! Of all the dashed nonsense I ever--!
+
+_Mrs. Bangs_. My! Colonel, you do seem to have got hold of a pretty
+insubordinate kind of a Rabbit, too!
+
+_The Colonel_ (_looking round_). Well, you aren't getting much pace
+out of your Tortoise either, if it comes to that!
+
+_Mrs. Bangs_. He puts in most of his time in stoppages for rest
+and refreshment. I'm beginning to believe that old fable's a fraud.
+Anyway, it's my opinion this Tortoise isn't going to beat any
+hare--unless it's a jugged one.
+
+_Dick Gatling_ (_in front, as his Sheep halts to crop the turf in
+a leisurely manner_). We've not pulled up--only lying-to to take in
+supplies. We're going ahead directly. There, what did I tell you! Now
+she's tacking!
+
+_The Curate_ (_in the rear_). Poo' little Jacko, then--there, there,
+quietly now! Miss STELLA, what does it mean when it gibbers like that?
+(_Sotto voce._) I wonder, if I let go the chain--
+
+_Mr. Duff_ (_hauling his Goose towards Miss CHAFFERS_). It's no
+use--_I_ can't keep this beast from bolting off the course!
+
+_Miss C._ Do keep it away from my Puppy, at all events. I _know_ it
+will peck him, and he's perfectly happy licking my shoe--he's found
+out there's sugar-candy in the varnish.
+
+_Mr. Duff_ (_solemnly_). Yes, but I _say_, you know--that's all very
+well, but it's not making him _race_, is it? Now I _am_ getting some
+running out of my Goose.
+
+_Miss C._ Rather in-and-out-running, isn't it? (_Cries of distress
+from the rear._) But what is the matter now? That poor dear Curate
+again!
+
+_The Curate_ (_in agony_). Here, I say, somebody! _do_ help me! Miss
+STELLA, do speak to your monkey, please! It's jumped on my back, and
+it's pulling my hair--'ow!
+
+    [_Most of the Competitors abandon their animals and rush to
+    the rescue._
+
+_Dick Gatling_ (_coming up later_). Why on earth did you all jack
+up like that? You've missed a splendid finish! My Mutton was forging
+ahead like fun, when FANSHAWE's Peacock hoisted his sail, and drew
+alongside, and it was neck and neck. Only, as he had more neck than
+the Mutton, and stuck it out, he won by a beak. Look here, let's have
+it all over again!
+
+    [_But the Monkey being up a tree, and the Colonel having
+    surreptitiously got rid of his Rabbit among the bracken,
+    and the Tortoise having retired within his shell and firmly
+    declined to come out again, sport is abandoned for the
+    afternoon, to the scarcely disguised relief of the Curate,
+    who is prevented from remaining to tea by the pressure of
+    parish-work._
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration: THE ONLY MAN IN ROTTEN ROW.
+
+SCENE FROM THE RAKE'S PROGRESS.]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+LADY GAY'S SELECTIONS.
+
+_Mount Street, Grosvenor Square._
+
+DEAR MR. PUNCH,
+
+Once more I am back in my London "_pied-à-terre_"--(but how it can he
+a _pied-à-TERRE_, I don't quite know, considering it's a flat on the
+fourth floor!--_ridiculous_ language French is to be sure!)--and
+
+very glad to get home again I assure you. I have spent the last few
+weeks in the Isle of Wight, which is a British Possession in the
+latitude of Spithead--(I don't know why Spithead should want any
+latitude, but it seems to take a good deal!)--sacred to Tourists,
+_Char-à-bancs_, and Pirates--the latter disguised as Lodging-letters!
+
+While there we suffered severely from Regattas; which swarm in the
+Island at this season, and are hotly pursued by the visitors, with the
+deadly telescope. I myself was bitten once by the Regatta Bacteria,
+and very painful it was. My friend, Baron VON HODGEMANN, owner of the
+_Anglesey_, persuaded me to go on board for a race, and we travelled
+the whole thirty miles sitting at an angle of forty-five degrees, and
+singing the war-cry of the Royal Victoria Yacht Club!--
+
+  To the mast-head high we nail the Burge,[1]
+  When the north wind snores its dismal dirge!
+  In the trough of the sea with a mighty splurge,
+  The quiv'ring Yacht beats down the surge,
+            And weathers the Warner Light!
+
+This experience having inspired me with courage, I indulged in another
+flight of daring which required all the _aplomb_ of a leader of
+Fashion to carry out successfully; and, though few of the "smart"
+Ladies of my set habitually indulge in the habit. I am happy to think
+I am encouraging them in a healthy and amusing pastime, which, in the
+Summer, may in time even rival Lawn Tennis! However--not to beat about
+the bush any longer--an utterly absurd expression this is!--as if it
+could hurt the bush to beat it!--to say nothing of the difficulty of
+keeping a bush always handy to beat!)--it is time I told you what this
+great achievement of mine was--_I went paddling!_ There!--the secret
+is out!--the Fashion is set!--the new Summer Amusement discovered!
+The Rules of the Game are being written, and will shortly be published
+under the title, "_Routledge's Etiquette of Paddling, for Ladies of
+Good Standing_." I need hardly tell you that the first thing necessary
+is to find a secluded bay, and it is also advisable to collect a few
+children to take with you--(there are usually plenty left about on the
+beach from which you can make a selection)--as a sort of excuse;--no
+other implements are required for the game, in fact, superfluities
+are a nuisance and only get wet--thus equipped--the game can be played
+with freedom--(_not_ from pebbles)--combined of course with propriety,
+and will be found amusing and invigorating--(quotation from the
+preface to the Book of Rules written by the eminent German Doctor,
+HERR SPLASHENWASSER--inventor of the Water-Cure.
+
+The next Race meeting requiring attention takes place at Doncaster
+this week, and the most important race, I take it--at least, _I_
+don't take it--but the _winner_ will--another senseless expression--is
+naturally the St. Leger, for which I make a poetic selection, which
+has cost me weeks of anxious thought, no "leger" task!--(French
+joke)--owing to the number of horses engaged, so few of which will
+run!
+
+Yours devotedly, LADY GAY.
+
+ST. LEGER SELECTION.
+
+  The best of the classic events of the year
+    We are told by the students of "form,"
+  Is a foregone conclusion, 'tis perfectly clear,
+    For the noble possessor of _Orme_.
+
+[Footnote 1: This should really be Burg_ee_, but then it wouldn't
+rhyme, and a Poet may drop a _syllable_, if he or she mayn't drop an
+H!]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration: THE WOMAN THAT WAS!
+
+_Monsieur le Maréchal_ (_who, during the Forties, was a dashing young
+Military Attaché at, the French Embassy in London_). "AH, DUCHESS,
+AND DO YOU REMEMBER ZE SO BEAUTIFUL YOUNG LADY MARY GWENDOLEN VERE DE
+VERE, ZAT EVERYBODY VENT MAD ABOUT VEN I VAS IN ENGLAND? VEN I TINK OF
+'ER, MY 'EARRT BEAT EVEN NOW!"
+
+_The Duchess_ (_née Mary Gwendolen Vere de Vere_). "OH YES, MONSIEUR
+LE MARÉCHAL, I REMEMBER HER ONLY TOO WELL!"
+
+_M. le Maréchal._ "VAT 'AS BECAME OF 'ER, MADAME LA DUCHESSE?"
+
+_Her Grace_ (_with a sigh_). "_ELLE N'EST PLUS!_"]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+STUDIES IN THE NEW POETRY.
+
+NO. V.
+
+It may be objected that _Mr. Punch's_ fifth example does not strictly
+conform to the canons laid down by him in his prefatory remarks to No.
+I. _Mr. Punch_ neither admits nor denies the charge. He is convinced,
+however, that those who do him the honour to read these Studies, might
+justly complain if he failed to include in them an example of the
+work of a Poet who has shown our generation how rusticity and rhymes,
+cattle and Conservative convictions, peasants and patriotism, may be
+combined in verse. It is scarcely necessary to add that the author of
+the following magnificent piece is Mr. A-FR-D A-ST-N. Like others who
+might be named, he has not the honour to be an agricultural labourer;
+but no living man has sung at greater length of rural life, and its
+simple joys. Many of his admirers have asserted that Britain ought to
+have more than one Laureate, and that Mr. A-FR-D A-ST-N ought to be
+among the number. Others are not prepared to go quite so far. They
+have been heard to complain that cows and trees, and woodmen and
+farms, and sheep and wains, and hay and turnips, do not necessarily
+suggest the highest happiness, and that it is not always dignified for
+an aspiring Poet to be led about helpless through the byeways of sense
+by those wilful, wanton playfellows, his rhymes. The two factions may
+be left to fight out their quarrel over the present example, which,
+by the way, is _not_ taken from the collected edition of the Poet's
+works.
+
+IS LUNCH WORTH LUNCHING?
+
+(_BY A-FR-D A-ST-N._)
+
+  Is Lunch worth lunching? Go, dyspeptic man,
+    Where in the meadows green the oxen munch.
+  Is it not true that since our land began
+    The hornéd ox hath given us steaks for lunch?
+
+  Steaks rump or otherwise, the prime sirloin,
+    Sauced with the stinging radish of the horse.
+  Beeves meditate and die; we pay our coin,
+    And though the food be often tough and coarse,
+
+  We eat it, we, through whose bold British veins
+    Bold British hearts drive bubbling British blood.
+  No true-born Briton, come what may, disdains
+    To eat the patient chewers of the cud.
+
+  Or seek the uplands, where of old Bo Peep
+    (So runs the tale) lost all her fleecy flocks;
+  There happy shepherds tend their grazing sheep
+    (Some men like mutton, some prefer the ox).
+
+  Ay, surely it would need a heart of flint
+    To watch the blithe lambs caper o'er the lea,
+  And, watching them, refrain from thoughts of mint,
+    Of new potatoes, and the sweet green pea.
+
+  Is Lunch worth lunching? The September sun
+    Makes answer "Yes;" no longer must thou lag.
+  Forth to the stubble, cynic; take thy gun,
+    And add the juicy partridge to thy bag.
+
+  Out in the fields the keen-eyed pigeons coo;
+    They fill their crops, and then away they fly.
+  Pigeons are sometimes passable in stew,
+    And always quite delicious in a pie.
+
+  Or pluck red-currants on some summer day,
+    Then take of raspberries an equal part,
+  Add cream and sugar--can mere words convey
+    The luscious joys of this delightful tart?
+
+  Is Lunch worth lunching? If such cates should fail,
+    Go out of country bread a solid hunch,
+  Pile on it cheese, wash down with country ale,
+    And, faring plainly, yet enjoy thy lunch.
+
+  Yea, this is truth, the lunch of knife and fork,
+    The pic-nic lunch, spread out upon the earth,
+  Lunches of beef, bread, mutton, veal, or pork,
+    All, all, without exception all, are worth!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+NINETY-NINE OUT OF A HUNDRED CANDIDATES MUST BE "PILLED."--The Living
+of "Easington-with-Liverton, Yorkshire, worth £600 per annum," is
+vacant. Is it in the gift of the celebrated Dr. COCKLE? or of Dr.
+CARTER, of Little-Liverpill-Street fame?
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration: "BACK!"]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+PLAYFUL HEIFERVESCENCE AT HAWARDEN.
+
+    [Mr. GLADSTONE met with an extraordinary adventure in Hawarden
+    Park one day last week. A heifer, which had got loose, made
+    for Mr. GLADSTONE as he was crossing the park, and knocked
+    him down. Mr. GLADSTONE took refuge behind a tree. The heifer
+    scampered off, and was subsequently shot.]
+
+[Illustration]
+
+G.O.M. _sings_:--
+
+  How happy could I be with heifer,
+    If sure it were only her play.
+  Is't LABBY? or Labour? Together
+    In one? I'll get out of the way.
+  _Singing_ (_to myself_)--With my tol de rol de rol LABBY, &c.
+
+  She comes! On her horns she is playing
+    A tune with a nourish or two!
+  No cow-herd am I but my staying
+    To play second fiddle won't do.
+  _Singing_ (_to myself_)--With my tol de rol tol-e-rate LABBY, &c.
+
+  Don't chivey her! I would allot her
+    "Three acres," and lots of sweet hay.
+  Alas! while I'm talking, they've shot her!
+    Well! heifers, like dogs, have their day!
+  _Singing_ (_to myself, as before_)--With my tol lol de rol-licking
+          LABBY, &c.
+
+_Latest._--After dinner, Mr. GLADSTONE fell asleep in his chair! He
+was seen to smile, although his repose seemed somewhat disturbed.
+Presently he was heard to murmur melodiously the words of the old
+song, slightly adapted to the most recent event,--"_Heifer of thee
+I'm fondly dreaming_!" Then a shudder ran through his frame as he
+pronounced softly a Latin sentence; it was "_Labor omnia vincit_!"
+Then he awoke.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+SONGS OUT OF SEASON.
+
+NO. II.--KEW-RIOUS!
+
+  It's a pleasure worth the danger,
+    Deems your gorgeous DE LA PLUCHE,
+  To become the main arranger
+    Of a drive in your barouche;
+  And your Coachman, honest JOE too,
+    When approached thereon by JEAMES,
+  Doesn't say exactly "no," to
+    Such inviting little schemes.
+
+  JEAMES has doffed them "'orrid knee-things;"
+    Plush gives way to tweed and socks;
+  And a hamper with the tea-things,
+    Fills his place upon the box;
+  With MARIA, JANE, and HEMMA,
+    He is playing archest games,
+  And they're in the sweet dilemma,
+    Who shall make the most of JAMES.
+
+  Mr. COACHMAN smokes his pipe on
+    His accustomed throne of pride,
+  And, through driving, keeps an eye 'pon
+    All the revellers inside.
+  Mrs. COACHMAN there is seated;
+    Children twain are on her lapped,
+  Who alternately are treated,
+    And alternately are slapped.
+
+  While the painters haunt your mansion,
+    And you're "_H_up" "The _H_alps" or "Rhind,"
+  Your domestics find expansion
+    In diversions of the kind;
+  And on such a day as this is,
+    They will drink the health at Kew,
+  Of "The Master and the Missis,
+    And their bloomin' kerridge too!"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+THE PALLIUM AND ARCHIEPISCOPAL OATH CONTROVERSY IN THE "TIMES."--No
+wonder this is a very dry subject, when they've got such a strong
+THURST-ON among them. Our advice, by way of moistening it, is, "Drop
+it!"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"CLERGY FEES" (_see "Times" Correspondence_).--_Growl of the
+Archiepiscopal Ogre & Co._:--
+
+            "_Fee_, fi, fo, fum!
+      I smell the coin of a Clergyman!
+  Hath he fat glebe, be he ill-fee'd, ill-fed,
+  I'll grab his fees to butter my bread!"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+A NIGHTLY CHEVALIER.
+
+Music-Hall Artists are not by any means "Fixed Stars." During the
+evening they manage to accomplish the somewhat paradoxical-sounding
+feat of shining in the same parts, yet in different places and at
+different times, appearing everywhere with undiminished brilliancy.
+The Student of the Music-Hall Planetary system, has only by
+observation to ascertain the exact time and place of the appearance of
+his favourite bright particular Star, and then to pay his money, take
+his choice between sitting and standing, and like a true astronomer,
+he will--glass in hand, a strong glass too,--await the great event of
+the evening, calmly and contentedly.
+
+If the Wirtuous Westender wandering down the Strand, after having
+on some previous nights exhausted the Pavilion and the elaborately
+gorgeous Variety Shows given at the Empire and Alhambra, seeks for
+awhile a resting-place wherein to enjoy his postprandial cigar, and be
+amused, if such an one will drop into the classic Tivoli, he will find
+excellent entertainment, that is as long as their present programme
+holds the field. The Holborn and the Oxford may delight him on other
+nights, for it seems that much the same Stars shine all around; but
+for the present, taking Tivoli as synonymous with Tibur, he may, with
+Horation humour, say to himself ("himself" being not a bad audience as
+a rule):--
+
+  "Holborn Tibur amem ventosus, Tivoli Holborn,"
+
+and he can then enter the Tivoli, now under the benign rule of that
+old Music Hall Hand, CAROLUS MORTONIUS, M.A., Magister Agens, while
+the experienced Mr. VERNON DOWSETT--"_Experientia Dowsett_"--manages
+the stage. Good as is the entire show, and especially good as is
+the performance of Mr. CHARLES GODFREY as an old Chelsea Pensioner
+recounting to several little Peterkins a touching and heart-stirring
+tale of the Crimean War, yet for me, the Costermonger Songs of
+Mr. ALBERT CHEVALIER are the great attraction. His now well-known
+"_Coster's Serenade_," and his "_Knocked 'em in the Old Kent Road_,"
+are supplemented by a song and dialogue about a Coster's son, a
+precocious little chap, about three years old, and "only that 'igh,
+you know," in whom his father takes so great a pride that it works
+his own temporary reformation. It is so natural as to be just on
+the borderland between farce and pathos, and recalls time past, when
+ROBSON played _The Porter's Knot_, and such-like pieces. Now what more
+do Music Halls want than what Mr. CHEVALIER gives them? This is the
+very essence of a dramatic sketch of character, given in just the
+time it takes to sing the song,--that is, about ten minutes, if as
+much. The compact orchestra, under the directorship of Mr. ASHER,
+discourses excellent accompaniments, and the music of the CHEVALIER's
+songs--composed, I believe, by himself--is not the least among the
+attractions. The CHEVALIER, who, as he takes more than one turn every
+evening, may be termed a Knight Errant, is certainly the Coster's
+Laureate and accepted Representative in the West; the mine, which is
+his own, is inexhaustible. He is a magician in his own peculiar line,
+and may write himself ALBERTUS MAGNUS.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"AL FRESCO," the Lightning Artist, whose full name is "ALFRED FRESCO,"
+writes to suggest that the Alhambra under Mr. JOHN HOLLINGSHEAD's
+management should start a Rotten Row Galop and Kensington Gardens
+Quadrille to follow as in a series the highly successful _Serpentine
+Dance_.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+NOVEL QUARTETTE.--At the next Hereford Festival there will be
+performed a concerted piece by four Short Horns.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration: STARTLING DISCOVERY ON THE YORKSHIRE COAST.
+
+_Young Tripper_ (_on his first visit to the Sea, becoming suddenly
+conscious of the ebbing Tide_). "HI! BILL! JACK! T'WATTER BE A RUNNIN'
+OFF! BY GUM, LADS, BUT AI BET SHE'S BRUSSEN SOMEWHERES!"]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+THE POOR VIOLINIST.--AN EPISODE, IN THE STYLE OF STERNE.
+
+"_Le Luthier de Crémone_," observed EUGENIUS, "is a pathetic story."
+
+"Indeed, EUGENIUS," replied YORICK, "it is extremely touching. I
+protest I never read, or hear it, without emotion."
+
+"The violin," pursued EUGENIUS, "most sensitive, and, as it were,
+soulful of human instruments, lends itself, with particular aptness,
+to the purposes of literary pathos."
+
+"Dear Sensibility!" said I, "source inexhausted of all that is
+precious in our (poetical) joys, or costly in our (dramatic) sorrows!"
+
+"It were well," continued YORICK, drily, "if it were also the source
+inexhausted of more that is quick in our sympathy, and practical in
+our beneficence. It is scarcely in the columns of the daily news-sheet
+that Sensibility usually seeks its much-sought stimulus. And yet but
+lately, in the corner of my paper, I encountered a piteous story that
+'dear Sensibility' (had it been more romantically environed) might
+deliciously have luxuriated in. I protest 'twas as pathetic as
+those of MARIA LE FEVRE, or LA FLEUR. It was headed, "Sad Death of a
+Well-known Violinist."
+
+"Prithee, dear YORICK, let me hear it," cried EUGENIUS.
+
+"'Twas but the prosaic report of a Coroner's Inquest," pursued YORICK.
+"Sensibility would probably have 'skipped' the sordid circumstance.
+'FREDERICK MARTIN, aged seventy-two, a well-known Violinist, and
+Professor of Music, formerly a member of the orchestra of the Italian
+Opera at Her Majesty's and Covent Garden Theatres,' found life too
+hard for him. That is all. 'The deceased, a bachelor.'--Heaven help
+him!--'had of late been afflicted with deafness, which hindered his
+pursuit of his profession, and' (the witness an old friend feared)
+'he was recently in straitened circumstances, but he was too proud and
+independent to ask or accept assistance.' The old friend, Mr. LEWIS
+CHAPUY, Comedian, had 'frequently offered him hospitalities, which
+he never accepted.' Offered him hospitalities! Worthy comedian! In
+faith, EUGENIUS, 'tis delicately worded. True 'Sensibility' here,
+supplemented by practical sympathy. Both, alas! unavailing. Somewhat
+of the doggedly independent spirit of the boot-rejecting Dr. JOHNSON
+in this poor deaf violinist apparently. Verily, EUGENIUS, the story
+requires but the 'decorative art' of the literary sentimentalist
+to make it moving, even to the modish. The ingeniously emotional
+historian of LA FLEUR would have made much of it."
+
+"My gentle heart already bleeds with it," said I. "But the upshot,
+YORICK; the sequel, my friend?"
+
+"'Tis short and simple," responded YORICK. "'The afflicted Violinist'
+occupied a room at 34, Compton Street, Brunswick Square, in which he
+lived alone. He suffered from lumbago, as well as from a proud spirit
+and a broken heart. He had a dread of 'coming to the Workhouse.'
+Spectral fear which haunts ever the sensitive and poverty-stricken!
+Unreasonable? Perhaps. But not the less agonising. What comfort may
+Political Economy and an admirable Poor Law yield to proud-spirited
+victims of poverty?"
+
+"But surely," said I, "the compassion of the stranger would gladly
+have poured oil and wine into the wounds of his spirit--or into poor
+afflicted MARIA's--had he only known."
+
+"Doubtless," said YORICK. "But 'the great Sensorium of the World,'
+as--in 'mere pomp of words'--thou dost designate 'Dear Sensibility,'
+did _not_ 'vibrate' to the case of this 'well-known Violinist'--until
+'twas too late to vibrate to any useful purpose. He was 'found lying
+dead in his bed, fully dressed, with the exception of his hat and
+boots,' mute as the untouched strings of his own violin. 'He had died
+suddenly from syncope, or heart-failure.' Heart-failure, EUGENIUS.
+Doth not thy gentle heart fail at the thought? 'Dr. COLLEY found the
+body in an advanced stage of decomposition, and life had probably been
+extinct since the preceding Thursday night.' Prithee, Sir, is 'MARIA,
+sitting pensive under her poplar, more pathetic than this poor broken
+musician, dying alone, in his poverty and pride?"
+
+"Indeed, no!" I responded, musingly.
+
+"Those," continued YORICK, "who go, like the 'Knight of the Rueful
+Countenance,' in quest of melancholy adventures, need not to make
+deliberately 'Sentimental Journeys' through France, or Italy, or
+by forest or mountain, picturesque hamlet, or romantic stream. The
+purlieus of great cities amongst the poverty-stricken members of
+what it is usual to call the 'lower middle-classes,' will furnish
+multitudinous subjects for pensive thought, and--what were a whole
+world better--for practical benevolence. 'Tis too late, alas! to do
+aught for this dead Violinist, but were eyes and pen more sedulously
+and sympathetically employed about real, if sordid-seeming, in place
+of imaginary, if picturesque, woes, why verily, EUGENIUS, something
+more, perchance, might be done in such pitiful cases as that I
+have described to thee in non-journalistic language, than what was
+formally done by the Coroner's Jury, who--as they were bound to
+do, indeed--'_returned a verdict in accordance with the medical
+testimony_.'"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration: PUNCH'S PIC-NIC. THE PARLIAMENTARY MIRAGE.]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+LETTERS TO ABSTRACTIONS.
+
+NO. XIII.--TO IRRITATION.
+
+I have just come home from my Club in a state bordering upon
+distraction. No great misfortune has happened to me, my dearest
+friend has not been black-balled, the Club bore has not had me in his
+unrelenting clutches. The waiters have been, as indeed they always
+are, civil and obliging, the excellent _chef_ catered with his
+usual skill to my simple mid-day wants, my table companions were
+good-humoured, cheerful, and pleasantly cynical. What then, you may
+ask, has happened to shatter my nerves and impair my temper for the
+day? It is a simple matter, and I am almost ashamed to confess it
+openly. But I am encouraged by the fact that two eminently solid and,
+so far as I could see, perfectly unemotional gentlemen were as deeply
+pricked and worried by what happened as I was myself. To begin with,
+I do not admit that my nerves vibrate more easily than those of my
+fellow-men. I have never killed an organ-grinder, I am guiltless of
+the blood of a German band, I have even gone so far as to spare guards
+who asked for my railway-ticket after I had carefully wrapped myself
+up for a journey, and no touting vendor of subscription books or works
+of art can truthfully say that I have kicked him. On the whole I think
+I am reasonably even-tempered and of higher than average amiability.
+Others may judge me differently. I don't wish to quarrel with them. I
+simply reiterate my opinion. Why then am I to-day in a seething state
+of exception to my rule? Here is the cause:
+
+[Illustration]
+
+After I had done with my luncheon, and had puffed a friendly cigar,
+I proceeded to that room in the Club which is specially dedicated to
+literature and silence. What a feast of multitudinous periodicals is
+there spread out, how brightly the variegated array of books from
+the circulating library attracts the leisurely, how dignified and
+awe-inspiring are the far-stretching ranks of accumulated volumes upon
+the shelves. And the carpet, how soft, and the chairs how comfortably
+easy. Into one of these chairs I sank with a religious novel (I merely
+mention the fact, whether for praise or blame I care not), and began
+to think deeply about various life-problems that have much distressed
+me. Why must men wear themselves out prematurely with labour? Why
+must we suffer? And why, granting the necessity for pain, should I
+occasionally sink under a toothache, while HARRISON, a blatant fellow
+with a red face and a loud voice, continues in a condition of robust
+and oppressive health? These speculations were not so painful and
+disturbing as might be supposed. Indeed, they had a soothing effect.
+From the rhythmical breathing and the closed eyes of two other
+occupants of arm-chairs, I judged that they were similarly occupied
+in philosophic reflection. I was just composing myself to a bout of
+specially hard thinking, when, lo, the door opened, and in stepped Dr.
+FUSSELL!
+
+Everybody, I take it, knows Dr. FUSSELL. He is a member of countless
+learned Societies. Over many of them he presides, to some he acts
+as secretary. He reads papers on abstruse questions connected with
+sanitation, he dashes with a kind of wild war-whoop into impassioned
+newspaper controversies on the component elements of a dust particle,
+or the civilisation of the Syro-Phoenicians. He is acute, dialectical,
+scornful and furious. He denounces those who oppose him as the meanest
+of mankind, he extols his supporters as the most illustrious and
+reasonable of all who have benefited the human race. In the Club he
+is always engaged in some investigation which keeps him continuously
+skipping from bookshelf to bookshelf, climbing up ladders to reach
+the highest shelves, rushing up and down-stairs with sheaves of paper
+bulging in his coat-pockets, or stowed under his arms. He lays his
+top-hat on the table, and makes it a receptacle for reams of notes and
+volumes of projected essays. In a word, he is a human storm.
+
+Well, in he came with his grey hair streaming over his forehead, and
+his eyes aflame. I knew in a moment that repose in his presence was
+out of the question, though I still sat on, hoping against hope.
+First, the Doctor bounded to the fire-place, seized the poker, and
+began to rummage the fire. It was a good fire, and had done nothing
+to deserve this punishment. I shifted on my seat; the two other
+philosophers opened their eyes and frowned, and still Dr. FUSSELL
+continued to rummage. Now I knew, not only that that fire was being
+poked on an entirely wrong principle, but that I alone knew how it
+ought to be poked. My fingers itched, my whole body tingled with
+excitement. At last Dr. FUSSELL ceased. In a moment I was out of my
+seat and making a bee-line for the poker. I just managed to beat the
+other two by a short head, seized the poker, and relieved my soul
+by stirring the fire on strictly scientific principles. The others
+watched me hungrily. When I had finished, each of them took a short
+turn with the poker, and then we all returned, more or less appeased,
+to our seats.
+
+But we had not done with the ineffable FUSSELL. By this time he was on
+the top of a step-ladder. Slowly he selected six tomes, and began his
+perilous descent. Our eyes were riveted upon him. Crash, bang! His
+arms were empty, and the unconscionable books fluttered and clattered
+to the floor. Slowly and ruefully did FUSSELL descend into the cloud
+of dust and gather his bruised treasures from the carpet. At last he
+heaped them on his table, and began to write. We hoped for peace,
+but it was not to be. A sudden thought struck him. He would sew his
+scattered leaves of MS. together. With dreadful deliberation he took
+needle and cotton from a little pocket housewife that he carried with
+him; and then began one of the most maddening performances I have
+ever watched. Carefully he held the needle to the light, carefully he
+wetted and trimmed his cotton to a point. And for ten stricken minutes
+we saw him miss the eye of the needle, sometimes by an inch, sometimes
+by a hair's breadth. It was a thrilling contest between obstinacy and
+evasiveness. I was fascinated by it. Every time, as the cotton neared
+the eye, my heart slowly ascended into my mouth, only to drop with a
+fatal swiftness into my boots as the triumphant needle scored another
+victory. I began to imitate FUSSELL's every movement. I threaded
+invisible needles by the gross with imperceptible cotton. I felt in
+my own breast all the ardour of the chase, all the bitter sorrow of
+repeated failures. My two companions in misfortune were similarly
+affected, and there we sat, three sane and ordinary men, feverishly
+going through all these itching movements with FUSSELL as our
+detested, but unconscious fugleman. The strain became too great. I
+sprang from my chair, "Sir," I said to the astonished FUSSELL, "permit
+me; I learnt the art of threading needles as a boy from an East End
+seamstress," and before he had time to protest, I had seized the
+offending instruments, and by a stroke of inspiration had passed the
+cotton through. Then without waiting to hear what FUSSELL might have
+to say, I fled from the room. And here consequently I sit with my
+nerves shattered, and an untasted crumpet cooling on the tea-tray.
+
+Am I singular? I think not. There are others whose mannerisms plague
+me too. For instance, TRUBERRY, whom I meet occasionally, has a wild
+and venomous habit of relating to me his infinitesimal jokelets. That
+I could pardon. But when, having related one, he bursts, as he always
+does, into a helpless suffocation of purple laughter, the savage
+within me awakes and I murder TRUBERRY in fancy to an accompaniment
+of refined and protracted tortures. Once, as I helped him on with his
+overcoat, he joked and exploded. My fingers were horribly near his
+throat. But I mastered the impulse, and TRUBERRY will never know how
+near he was to destruction. And to make matters worse, he is one
+of the kindest and most considerately helpful of human beings. Oh,
+IRRITATION, IRRITATION, you have much to answer for. The fly in the
+ointment of the apothecary was a baby to you. Avaunt, avaunt!
+
+DIOGENES ROBINSON.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+THE VERY LATEST.--Mrs. RAM had a paragraph read to her from the
+_D.T.'s_ "London Day by Day," recounting how the Archbishop of
+CANTERBURY when staying at Haddo House, had attended service in the
+parish Kirk, which conduct might have provoked High Churchmen to
+assail him for "bowing the knee in the House of Rimmon." Thinking
+it over afterwards, when she had muddled up the name in her usual
+fashion, our old friend Mrs. R. observed, with some humour, that she
+thought "the Archbishop had shown his good scents by going to the
+House of RIMMEL."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+NOTICE.--Rejected Communications or Contributions, whether MS.,
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+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Punch, Or The London Charivari, Vol.
+103, September 10, 1892, by Various
+
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+    <meta http-equiv="Content-Type"
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+    <title>Punch, September 10, 1892.</title>
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+<pre>
+
+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Punch, Or The London Charivari, Vol. 103,
+September 10, 1892, 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. 103, September 10, 1892
+
+Author: Various
+
+Release Date: February 28, 2005 [EBook #15196]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PUNCH ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Malcolm Farmer, William Flis, and the PG Online
+Distributed Proofreading Team.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+</pre>
+
+    <h1>PUNCH,<br />
+     OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.</h1>
+
+    <h2>Vol. 103.</h2>
+    <hr class="full" />
+
+    <h2>September 10, 1892.</h2>
+    <hr class="full" />
+    <span class="pagenum"><a name="page109"
+       id="page109"></a>[pg 109]</span>
+
+    <h2>WHY I DON'T WRITE PLAYS.</h2>
+
+    <h4>(<i>From the Common-place Book of a Novelist.</i>)</h4>
+
+    <p>Because it is so much pleasanter to read one's work than to
+    hear it on the Stage.</p>
+
+    <p>Because Publishers are far more amiable to deal with than
+    Actor-Managers.</p>
+
+    <p>Because "behind the scenes" is such a disappointing
+    place&mdash;except in Novels.</p>
+
+    <p>Because why waste three weeks on writing a Play, when it
+    takes only three years to compose a Novel?</p>
+
+    <p>Because Critics who send articles to Magazines inviting one
+    to contribute to the Stage, have no right to dictate to us.</p>
+
+    <p>Because a fairly successful Novel means five hundred pounds,
+    and a fairly successful Play yields as many thousands&mdash;why
+    be influenced by mercenary motives?</p>
+
+    <p>Because all Novelists hire their pens in advance for years,
+    and have no time left for outside labour.</p>
+
+    <p>And last, and (perhaps) not least, Why don't I send in a
+    Play? Because I <i>have</i> tried to write <i>one</i>, and find
+    I can't quite manage it!</p>
+    <hr />
+
+    <p>According to recent accounts, the attitude of the Salvation
+    Army in Canada may be fairly described as "Revolting."</p>
+    <hr />
+
+    <div class="figcenter"
+         style="width:60%;">
+        <a href="images/109-1.png"><img width="100%"
+             src="images/109-1.png"
+             alt="EQUIVOCAL." /></a>
+
+        <h3>EQUIVOCAL.</h3>
+
+        <p><i>Rising Young Physician</i> (<i>who cured so many
+        Patients in last year's Epidemic</i>). "NOT MUCH CHANCE OF
+        MORE INFLUENZA IN ENGLAND <i>THIS</i> WINTER, I FANCY!"</p>
+
+        <p><i>His Wife.</i> "LET US HOPE FOR THE BEST,
+        DEAREST!"</p>
+    </div>
+    <hr />
+
+    <h2>A DIARY OF THE DEAD SEASON.</h2>
+
+    <h4>(<i>Suggested by the Contents Bills.</i>)</h4>
+
+    <p><i>Monday.</i>&mdash;First appearance of "the Epidemic."
+    Good bold line with reference to Russia. Not of sufficient
+    importance to head the Bill, but still distinctly taking.</p>
+
+    <p><i>Tuesday.</i>&mdash;Quite a feature. Centre of the Bill
+    with sub-lines of "Horrible Disclosures," and "Painful Scenes."
+    Becoming a boom. To be further developed to-morrow.</p>
+
+    <p><i>Wednesday.</i>&mdash;Bill all "Epidemic." Even Cricket
+    sacrificed to make room for it. "News from Abroad." "Horrors at
+    Hamburg." No idea it would turn out so well. A perfect
+    treasure-trove at this quiet season of the year!</p>
+
+    <p><i>Thursday.</i>&mdash;Nothing but "Epidemic"&mdash;"Arrival
+    in England"&mdash;"Precautions Everywhere." Let the boom go! It
+    feeds itself! Nearly as good as a foreign war!</p>
+
+    <p><i>Friday.</i>&mdash;Still "the Epidemic," but requires
+    strengthening. "Spreading in the Provinces," but still, not
+    like it was. Falling flat.</p>
+
+    <p><i>Saturday.</i>&mdash;A good sensational Murder! The very
+    thing for the Contents Bills. Exit "the Epidemic," until again
+    wanted.</p>
+    <hr />
+
+    <h2>SONGS OF SOCIETY;</h2>
+
+    <h3>I.&mdash;INTRODUCTORY. TO MY LYRE.</h3>
+
+    <blockquote class="note">
+        <p>["Smoothly written <i>vers de Société</i>, where a
+        <i>boudoir</i> decorum is, or ought always to be,
+        preserved; where sentiment never surges into passion, and
+        where humour never overflows into boisterous
+        merriment."&mdash;<i>Frederick Locker's Preface to "Lyra
+        Elegantiarum."</i>]</p>
+    </blockquote>
+
+    <div class="figright"
+         style="width:35%;">
+        <a href="images/109-2.png"><img width="100%"
+             src="images/109-2.png"
+             alt="" /></a>
+    </div>
+
+    <div class="poem">
+        <div class="stanza">
+            <p>Dear Lyre, your duty now you know!</p>
+
+            <p>If one would sing with grace and glow</p>
+
+            <p class="i8">Songs of Society,</p>
+
+            <p>One must not dream of fire, or length,</p>
+
+            <p>Or vivid touch, or virile strength,</p>
+
+            <p class="i8">Or great variety.</p>
+        </div>
+
+        <div class="stanza">
+            <p>Among the Muses of Mayfair</p>
+
+            <p>A Bacchanal with unbound hair,</p>
+
+            <p class="i8">And loosened girdle,</p>
+
+            <p>Would be as purely out of place</p>
+
+            <p>As Atalanta in a race</p>
+
+            <p class="i8">O'er hedge or hurdle:</p>
+        </div>
+
+        <div class="stanza">
+            <p>Our Muse, dear Lyra, must be trim,</p>
+
+            <p>Must not indulge in vagrant whim,</p>
+
+            <p class="i8">Of voice or vesture.</p>
+
+            <p>Boudoir decorum will allow</p>
+
+            <p>No gleaming eye, no glowing brow,</p>
+
+            <p class="i8">No ardent gesture.</p>
+        </div>
+
+        <div class="stanza">
+            <p>Society, which is our theme,</p>
+
+            <p>Is like a well-conducted stream</p>
+
+            <p class="i8">Which calmly ripples.</p>
+
+            <p>We sing the World where no one feels</p>
+
+            <p>Too pungently, or hates, or steals,</p>
+
+            <p class="i8">Or loves, or tipples.</p>
+        </div>
+
+        <div class="stanza">
+            <p>And should you hint that down below</p>
+
+            <p>The subtle siren all men know</p>
+
+            <p class="i8">Is hiding <i>her</i> face,</p>
+
+            <p>Our answer is: "That may be true,</p>
+
+            <p>But boudoir bards have nought to do</p>
+
+            <p class="i8">Save with the surface."</p>
+        </div>
+
+        <div class="stanza">
+            <p>And therefore, though Society feel</p>
+
+            <p>The Proletariat's heavy heel</p>
+
+            <p class="i8">Its kibe approaching,</p>
+
+            <p>Some luxuries yet are left to sing,</p>
+
+            <p>The Opera-Box, the Row, the Ring,</p>
+
+            <p class="i8">And Golf, and Coaching.</p>
+        </div>
+
+        <div class="stanza">
+            <p>Not e'en the Socialistic scare</p>
+
+            <p>The dandyish and the debonair</p>
+
+            <p class="i8">Has quite demolished;</p>
+
+            <p>Whilst Privilege hath still a purse,</p>
+
+            <p>There's yet a chance for flowing verse,</p>
+
+            <p class="i8">And periods polished.</p>
+        </div>
+
+        <div class="stanza">
+            <p>If IBSEN, BELLAMY, and GEORGE,</p>
+
+            <p>Raise not the boudoir critic's gorge</p>
+
+            <p class="i8">Beyond all bearing,</p>
+
+            <p>Light lyrics may she not endure,</p>
+
+            <p>On social ills above her cure,</p>
+
+            <p class="i8">Below her caring?</p>
+        </div>
+
+        <div class="stanza">
+            <p>Muse, with Society we may toy</p>
+
+            <p>Without impassioned grief or joy,</p>
+
+            <p class="i8">Or boisterous merriment;</p>
+
+            <p>May sing of Sorrow with a smile;</p>
+
+            <p>At least, it may be worth our while</p>
+
+            <p class="i8">To try the experiment.</p>
+        </div>
+    </div>
+    <hr />
+
+    <p>QUITE THE TREBLE GLOUCESTER CHEESE!&mdash;The Three Quires'
+    Festival this week. Do the Three Quires appear in the
+    Cathedral? If so, as each quire means twenty-four sheets,
+    there'll he quite a "Surplice Stock."</p>
+    <hr />
+
+    <p>CONTRIBUTION BY OUR OWN "MULEY
+    HASSAN."&mdash;<i>Puzzle</i>&mdash;To find "three Single
+    Gentlemen rolled into one?" <i>Answer</i>&mdash;Sir EUAN SMITH.
+    <i>Explanation</i>&mdash;Sir, You, an' SMITH. [<i>Exit</i>
+    MULEY HASSAN <i>going to Bray.</i></p>
+    <hr />
+
+    <p>Why ought a Quack's attendance on a patient to be
+    gratis?&mdash;Because he is No-Fee-sician.</p>
+    <hr />
+    <span class="pagenum"><a name="page110"
+       id="page110"></a>[pg 110]</span>
+
+    <div class="figcenter"
+         style="width:100%;">
+        <a href="images/110.png"><img width="100%"
+             src="images/110.png"
+             alt="'LA-BOUCHE-RE(-NARD) ET LES RAISINS.'" /></a>
+
+        <h3>"LA-BOUCHE-RE(-NARD) ET LES RAISINS."</h3>
+    </div>
+    <hr />
+    <span class="pagenum"><a name="page111"
+       id="page111"></a>[pg 111]</span>
+
+    <div class="figcenter"
+         style="width:100%;">
+        <a href="images/111-1.png"><img width="100%"
+             src="images/111-1.png"
+             alt="A MERE PREJUDICE." /></a>
+
+        <h3>A MERE PREJUDICE.</h3>
+
+        <p><i>Tourist.</i> "I SEE YOU EMPLOY A GOOD MANY WOMEN
+        ABOUT HERE, FARMER."</p>
+
+        <p><i>Farmer.</i> "HAVE TO DO, HARVEST-TIME, SIR; BUT FOR
+        MYSELF I MUCH PREFER MANUAL LABOUR!"</p>
+    </div>
+    <hr />
+
+    <h2>MORE REASONS FOR STOPPING IN TOWN.</h2>
+
+    <div class="drama">
+        <p><i>Commodore Buncombe.</i> Because I know those infernal
+        Tentonners, and &mdash;&mdash; Chartreuse jaune only makes
+        me worse.</p>
+
+        <p><i>William Sikes.</i> Because of the gross incompetence
+        of my Counsel, and the ridiculous adverse prepossessions of
+        the Jury at my recent appearance in public at the
+        C.C.C.</p>
+
+        <p><i>McStinger.</i> Because there's bonny braw air on the
+        braes of Hampstead, and it costs but a bawbee to get intil
+        it.</p>
+
+        <p><i>Fitz-Fluke.</i> Because, since that awkward affair at
+        the Roulette Club, my country invitations haven't come
+        in.</p>
+
+        <p><i>Capel Courtney.</i> Because those beastly
+        bucket-shops have collared all our business.</p>
+
+        <p><i>Bumpshus, M.P.</i> Because the Lords of the Treasury
+        (shabby crew of place-hunters) declined to adopt my
+        suggestion, and to place a trooper, thoroughly well found,
+        victualled, and overhauled, at the disposal of any Members
+        of the Lower House whose profound sense of duty, and of the
+        importance of the Imperial Federation idea, impelled them
+        to take a six-months' trip round the world at the nation's
+        expense.</p>
+
+        <p><i>Theodore John Hook Straight.</i> Because of the old
+        trouble&mdash;"got a complaint in the chest."</p>
+    </div>
+    <hr />
+
+    <div class="figcenter"
+         style="width:45%;">
+        <a href="images/111-2.png"><img width="100%"
+             src="images/111-2.png"
+             alt="PHILLIPOPOLIS." /></a>
+
+        <h3>PHILLIPOPOLIS.</h3>
+
+        <p><i>Toper Major</i> (<i>over their third bottle of a
+        Grand Vin</i>). I shay, ol' f'ler, neksh year thinksh'll go
+        see ex'bishun at Ph-Phipp&mdash;at Philup-popple&mdash;</p>
+
+        <p><i>Toper Minor.</i> I know, ol'f'ler. You mean
+        Philipoppoppo&mdash;poppo&mdash;</p>
+
+        <p><i>Toper Major.</i> Thatsh it&mdash;shame place. Have
+        'nother bo'l!</p>
+
+        <p class="author">[<i>They drink.</i></p>
+    </div>
+    <hr />
+
+    <p>"THE SPEECH OF MONKEYS."&mdash;Professor R.L. GARNER, who is
+    a great hand at "getting his Monkey up" (he was naturally a bit
+    annoyed at being, quite recently, accidentally prevented from
+    giving his Monkey lecture), is about to commence operations by
+    adapting the old song of "<i>Let us be Happy Together</i>" to
+    Monkey Language, when it will re-appear as "<i>Let us be Apey
+    Together</i>." It will be first given at Monkey Island on
+    Thames.</p>
+    <hr />
+
+    <p>CRICKETERS WHO OUGHT TO BE GOOD HANDS AT PLAYING A
+    TIE.&mdash;"The Eleven of Notts."</p>
+    <hr />
+
+    <h3>UN-BROCKEN VOWS.</h3>
+
+    <p>Walpurgis Brocken Night at Crystal Palace last
+    Thursday&mdash;Grand! Jupiter Pluvius suspended buckets, and
+    celestial water-works rested awhile to make way for Terrestrial
+    Fire-works. "Todgers's can do it when it likes," as all
+    Martin-Chuzzlewiters know, and BROCK can do it too when
+    <i>he</i> likes. <i>À propos</i> of DICKENS' quotation above,
+    it is on record that <i>Mr. Pickwick</i> was once addressed as
+    "Old Fireworks." Where? When? and How? <i>Mr. Pickwick</i>, we
+    are led to infer by the commentary thereon, somewhat objected
+    to the term, unless our Pickwickian memory fail us&mdash;which
+    is not improbable&mdash;but Mr. BROCK would appropriate it to
+    himself with pleasure, and be "'proud o' the title' as the
+    Living Skeleton said." Despite wind and weather, and
+    <i>contretemps</i> generally, BROCK has never brocken faith
+    with the public. "<i>Facta non verba</i>" is his motto: and
+    "<i>Facta</i>" means (here) Fire-works.</p>
+    <hr />
+
+    <p>"GREAT BRITAIN AND THE GILBERT ISLANDS."&mdash;Captain DAVIS
+    of H.M. Screw Cruiser <i>Royalist</i>, on May 27, formally
+    annexed "The Gilbert Islands." Where was SULLIVAN? Or is it
+    that Sir ARTHUR, having been annexed as a Knight, was unable to
+    interfere? Will D'OYLY CARTE explain?</p>
+    <hr />
+    <span class="pagenum"><a name="page112"
+       id="page112"></a>[pg 112]</span>
+
+    <h2>THE MENAGERIE RACE.</h2>
+
+    <blockquote>
+        <p>SCENE&mdash;<i>The terrace in front of Hauberk Hall,
+        which the</i> LARKSPURS <i>have taken for the Summer</i>.
+        TIME&mdash;<i>An August afternoon.</i> Miss STELLA
+        LARKSPUR&mdash;<i>a young lady with great energy and a
+        talent for organisation&mdash;has insisted upon all the
+        Guests taking part in a Menagerie Race</i>.</p>
+    </blockquote>
+
+    <div class="drama">
+        <p><i>The Rev. Ninian Headnote, the Local Curate</i>
+        (<i>to</i> Mr. PLUMLEY DUFF&mdash;<i>after uneasily
+        regarding</i> Miss STELLA, <i>as she shakes up some pieces
+        of folded paper in a hat</i>). Can you give me any idea of
+        the precise nature of this amusement&mdash;er&mdash;nothing
+        resembling a gambling transaction, I suppose?&mdash;or I
+        really&mdash;</p>
+
+        <p><i>Mr. Plumley Duff</i>. Well, I'm given to understand
+        that we shall each be expected to take an animal of some
+        sort, and drive it along with a string tied to its leg.
+        Sounds childish&mdash;to <i>me</i>.</p>
+
+        <p><i>The Curate</i> (<i>relieved</i>). Oh, exactly, I see.
+        Most entertaining, I'm sure! (<i>He coos.</i>) What
+        wonderful ingenuity one sees in devising ever-fresh
+        pastimes, do we not? Indeed, yes!</p>
+
+        <p><i>Miss Stella</i>. There, I've shuffled all the animals
+        now. (<i>Presenting the hat</i>.) Mr. HEADNOTE, will you
+        draw first?</p>
+
+        <p><i>The Curate</i>. Oh, really. Am I to take one of
+        these? Charmed! (<i>He draws.</i>) Now I wonder what my
+        fate&mdash;(<i>Opening the paper</i>.) The Monkey! (<i>His
+        face falls.</i>) <i>Is</i> there a Monkey here? <i>Dear</i>
+        me, how <i>very</i> interesting!</p>
+
+        <p><i>Dick Gatling</i> (<i>of H.M. Gunboat</i>
+        "<i>Weasel</i>"). Brought him over my last cruise from
+        Colombo. No end of a jolly little beast&mdash;bites like
+        the&mdash;like <i>blazes</i>, you know!</p>
+
+        <p><i>Miss Stella</i> (<i>to her Cousin</i>). Now, DICK, I
+        won't have you taking away poor Jacko's character like
+        that. He's only bitten BINNS&mdash;and, well, there
+        <i>was</i> the gardener's boy&mdash;but I'm sure he
+        <i>teased</i> him. <i>You</i> won't tease him, will you,
+        Mr. HEADNOTE?</p>
+
+        <p><i>The Curate</i>. I&mdash;I shouldn't dream of it, Miss
+        STELLA,&mdash;on the contrary, I&mdash;(<i>To himself</i>.)
+        Was it quite discreet to let myself be drawn into this?
+        Shall I not risk lowering my office by publicly associating
+        myself with a&mdash;a Monkey? I feel certain the Vicar
+        would disapprove strongly.</p>
+
+        <p><i>Dick</i> (<i>to</i> Colonel KEMPTON). Drawn
+        <i>your</i> animal yet, Sir?</p>
+
+        <p><i>The Colonel</i> (<i>heatedly</i>). Yes, I
+        have&mdash;and I wish I'd kept out of this infernal
+        tomfoolery. Why the mischief don't they leave a man in
+        peace and quietness on a hot afternoon like this? Here am
+        I, routed out of a comfortable seat to go and drive a
+        confounded White Rabbit, Sir! Idiotic, <i>I</i> call
+        it!</p>
+
+        <p><i>The Curate</i>. Pardon me, Colonel KEMPTON; but if
+        you object to the Rabbit, I would not at all mind
+        undertaking it myself&mdash;and you could take my
+        Monkey&mdash;</p>
+
+        <p><i>The Colonel</i>. Thanks&mdash;but I won't deprive
+        you. A Rabbit is quite responsibility enough for me!</p>
+
+        <p><i>The Curate</i> (<i>to himself, disappointed</i>).
+        He's afraid of a poor harmless Monkey&mdash;and he an Army
+        man, too! But I <i>don't</i> see why <i>I</i>&mdash;</p>
+
+        <p><i>Miss Gussie Grissell</i>. Oh, Mr. HEADNOTE,
+        <i>isn't</i> it ridiculous! They've given me a Kitten! It
+        makes me feel too absurdly young!</p>
+
+        <p><i>The Curate</i> (<i>eagerly</i>). If you would prefer
+        a&mdash;a more appropriate animal, there's a Monkey, which
+        I am sure&mdash;(<i>To himself, as</i> Miss G. <i>turns
+        away indignantly</i>). This Monkey doesn't seem very
+        popular&mdash;there must be <i>someone</i> here
+        who&mdash;I'll try the American Lady&mdash;they are
+        generally eccentric. (<i>To</i> Mrs. HEBER K. BANGS.) I
+        hope Fortune has been kind to you, Mrs. BANGS?</p>
+
+        <p><i>Mrs. Bangs</i>. Well, I don't know; there <i>are</i>
+        quadrupeds that can trot faster over the measured mile than
+        a Tortoise, and that's <i>my</i> animal.</p>
+
+        <p><i>The Curate</i> (<i>with sympathy</i>). Dear me! That
+        is a trial, indeed, for you! But if you would prefer
+        something rather more exciting, I should be most happy, I'm
+        sure, to exchange my Monkey&mdash;</p>
+
+        <p><i>Dick Gatling</i> (<i>bustling up</i>). Hallo, what's
+        that? No, no, Mrs. BANGS&mdash;be true to your Tortoise. I
+        tell you he's going to romp in&mdash;Æsop's tip, don't you
+        know? I've backed you to win or a place. I say, what do you
+        think <i>I</i>'ve drawn&mdash;the Mutton! Just my luck!</p>
+
+        <p><i>The Curate</i>. DICK, just come this way a
+        moment&mdash;I've a proposition to make; it's occurred to
+        me that the Monkey would feel more&mdash;more at home with
+        you, and, in short, I&mdash;</p>
+
+        <p><i>Mr. Plumley Duff</i> (<i>plaintively, to</i> Miss
+        CYNTHIA CHAFFERS). I shouldn't have minded any other
+        animal&mdash;but to be paired off with a Goose!</p>
+
+        <p><i>Miss Chaffers</i> (<i>consolingly</i>). You're better
+        off than <i>I</i> am, at all events&mdash;I've got a
+        Puppy!</p>
+
+        <p><i>Mr. Duff</i>. Have you? (<i>After a
+        pause&mdash;sentimentally</i>.) Happy Puppy!</p>
+
+        <p><i>Miss C.</i> He'll be anything but a happy Puppy if he
+        doesn't win.</p>
+
+        <p><i>Mr. Duff</i>. Oh, but he's sure to. I know I would,
+        if <i>I</i> was your Puppy!</p>
+
+        <p><i>Miss C.</i> I'm not so sure of that. Don't they lodge
+        objections, or something, for boring?</p>
+
+        <p><i>Mr. Fanshawe</i>. Can anybody inform me whether I'm
+        expected to go and catch my Peacock? Because I'll be hanged
+        if&mdash;</p>
+
+        <p><i>The Curate</i>. Oh, Miss STELLA, it's all
+        right&mdash;Mr. GATLING thinks that it would be better if
+        he undertook the Monkey himself; so we've arranged
+        to&mdash;</p>
+
+        <p><i>Miss Stella</i>. Oh, nonsense, DICK! I can't have you
+        taking advantage of Mr. HEADNOTE's good-nature like that.
+        What's the use of drawing lots at all if you don't keep to
+        them? Of <i>course</i> Mr. HEADNOTE will keep the
+        Monkey.</p>
+    </div>
+
+    <blockquote>
+        <p>[<i>The unfortunate</i> Curate <i>accepts his lot with
+        Christian resignation</i>.</p>
+    </blockquote>
+
+    <div class="drama">
+        <p><i>Dick</i>. Well, <i>that's</i> settled&mdash;but I
+        say, STELLA, where's my Mutton's moorings&mdash;and what's
+        to be the course?</p>
+
+        <p><i>Stella</i>. The course is straight up the Avenue from
+        the Lodge to the House, and I've told them to get all the
+        beasts down there ready for us; so we'd better go at
+        once.</p>
+    </div>
+
+    <h4>THE START.</h4>
+
+    <div class="drama">
+        <p><i>The Competitors</i>. STELLA, my dear, <i>mustn't</i>
+        Miss GRISSELL tell her kitten not to claw my Tortoise's
+        head every time he pokes his poor nose out? It isn't fair,
+        and it's damping all his enthusiasm!... Now, Colonel
+        KEMPTON, it isn't the Puppy's fault&mdash;you <i>know</i>
+        your Rabbit began it!... Hi, STELLA, hold on a bit, my
+        Mutton wants to lie down. Mayn't I kick it up!... DUFF, old
+        chap, your Goose is dragging her anchor again, back her
+        engines a bit, or there'll be a foul.... Miss STELLA,
+        I&mdash;I really <i>don't</i> think this Monkey is quite
+        well&mdash;his teeth are chattering in such a
+        <i>very</i>.... All right, <i>padre</i>, only his nasty
+        temper&mdash;jerk the beggar's chain. More than
+        <i>that</i>!</p>
+
+        <p><i>Chorus of Spectators at Lodge Gates</i>. My word, I
+        wonder what next the gentry'll be up to, I dew. Ain't Miss
+        STELLA orderin' of 'en about! Now she's started 'en. They
+        ain't not allowed to go 'ittin of 'en&mdash;got to go just
+        wheeriver the animiles want. Lor, the guse is takin
+        <i>his</i> genlm'n in among the treeses! Well, if iver I
+        did! That theer tartus gits along, don't he? Passon don't
+        seem com'fable along o' that monkey. I'll back the young
+        sailor gent&mdash;keeps that sheep wunnerful stiddy, he do.
+        There's the hold peacock puttin' on a bust now. Well, well,
+        these be fine doin's for 'Auberk 'All, and no mistake. Make
+        old Sir HALBERD stare if he was 'ere, &amp;c., &amp;c.</p>
+
+        <p><i>The Colonel</i> (<i>wrathfully to his Rabbit, which
+        will do nothing but run round and round him</i>). Stop
+        that, will you, you little fool. Do you want to trip me up!
+        Of all the dashed nonsense I ever&mdash;!</p>
+
+        <p><i>Mrs. Bangs</i>. My! Colonel, you do seem to have got
+        hold of a pretty insubordinate kind of a Rabbit, too!</p>
+
+        <p><i>The Colonel</i> (<i>looking round</i>). Well, you
+        aren't getting much pace out of your Tortoise either, if it
+        comes to that!</p>
+
+        <p><i>Mrs. Bangs</i>. He puts in most of his time in
+        stoppages for rest and refreshment. I'm beginning to
+        believe that old fable's a fraud. Anyway, it's my opinion
+        this Tortoise isn't going to beat any hare&mdash;unless
+        it's a jugged
+        one.</p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page113"
+           id="page113"></a>[pg 113]</span>
+
+        <p><i>Dick Gatling</i> (<i>in front, as his Sheep halts to
+        crop the turf in a leisurely manner</i>). We've not pulled
+        up&mdash;only lying-to to take in supplies. We're going
+        ahead directly. There, what did I tell you! Now she's
+        tacking!</p>
+
+        <p><i>The Curate</i> (<i>in the rear</i>). Poo' little
+        Jacko, then&mdash;there, there, quietly now! Miss STELLA,
+        what does it mean when it gibbers like that? (<i>Sotto
+        voce.</i>) I wonder, if I let go the chain&mdash;</p>
+
+        <p><i>Mr. Duff</i> (<i>hauling his Goose towards</i> Miss
+        CHAFFERS). It's no use&mdash;<i>I</i> can't keep this beast
+        from bolting off the course!</p>
+
+        <p><i>Miss C.</i> Do keep it away from my Puppy, at all
+        events. I <i>know</i> it will peck him, and he's perfectly
+        happy licking my shoe&mdash;he's found out there's
+        sugar-candy in the varnish.</p>
+
+        <p><i>Mr. Duff</i> (<i>solemnly</i>). Yes, but I
+        <i>say</i>, you know&mdash;that's all very well, but it's
+        not making him <i>race</i>, is it? Now I <i>am</i> getting
+        some running out of my Goose.</p>
+
+        <p><i>Miss C.</i> Rather in-and-out-running, isn't it?
+        (<i>Cries of distress from the rear.</i>) But what is the
+        matter now? That poor dear Curate again!</p>
+
+        <p><i>The Curate</i> (<i>in agony</i>). Here, I say,
+        somebody! <i>do</i> help me! Miss STELLA, do speak to your
+        monkey, please! It's jumped on my back, and it's pulling my
+        hair&mdash;'ow!</p>
+    </div>
+
+    <blockquote>
+        <p>[<i>Most of the Competitors abandon their animals and
+        rush to the rescue.</i></p>
+    </blockquote>
+
+    <div class="drama">
+        <p><i>Dick Gatling</i> (<i>coming up later</i>). Why on
+        earth did you all jack up like that? You've missed a
+        splendid finish! My Mutton was forging ahead like fun, when
+        FANSHAWE's Peacock hoisted his sail, and drew alongside,
+        and it was neck and neck. Only, as he had more neck than
+        the Mutton, and stuck it out, he won by a beak. Look here,
+        let's have it all over again!</p>
+    </div>
+
+    <blockquote>
+        <p>[<i>But the Monkey being up a tree, and the</i> Colonel
+        <i>having surreptitiously got rid of his Rabbit among the
+        bracken, and the Tortoise having retired within his shell
+        and firmly declined to come out again, sport is abandoned
+        for the afternoon, to the scarcely disguised relief of
+        the</i> Curate, <i>who is prevented from remaining to tea
+        by the pressure of parish-work.</i></p>
+    </blockquote>
+    <hr />
+
+    <div class="figcenter"
+         style="width:85%;">
+        <a href="images/113.png"><img width="100%"
+             src="images/113.png"
+             alt="THE ONLY MAN IN ROTTEN ROW." /></a>
+
+        <h3>THE ONLY MAN IN ROTTEN ROW.</h3>SCENE FROM THE RAKE'S
+        PROGRESS.
+    </div>
+    <hr />
+
+    <h2>LADY GAY'S SELECTIONS.</h2>
+
+    <p class="author"><i>Mount Street, Grosvenor Square.</i></p>
+
+    <p>DEAR MR. PUNCH,</p>
+
+    <p>Once more I am back in my London
+    "<i>pied-à-terre</i>"&mdash;(but how it can he a
+    <i>pied-à-TERRE</i>, I don't quite know, considering it's a
+    flat on the fourth floor!&mdash;<i>ridiculous</i> language
+    French is to be sure!)&mdash;and</p>
+
+    <p>very glad to get home again I assure you. I have spent the
+    last few weeks in the Isle of Wight, which is a British
+    Possession in the latitude of Spithead&mdash;(I don't know why
+    Spithead should want any latitude, but it seems to take a good
+    deal!)&mdash;sacred to Tourists, <i>Char-à-bancs</i>, and
+    Pirates&mdash;the latter disguised as Lodging-letters!</p>
+
+    <p>While there we suffered severely from Regattas; which swarm
+    in the Island at this season, and are hotly pursued by the
+    visitors, with the deadly telescope. I myself was bitten once
+    by the Regatta Bacteria, and very painful it was. My friend,
+    Baron VON HODGEMANN, owner of the <i>Anglesey</i>, persuaded me
+    to go on board for a race, and we travelled the whole thirty
+    miles sitting at an angle of forty-five degrees, and singing
+    the war-cry of the Royal Victoria Yacht Club!&mdash;</p>
+
+    <div class="poem">
+        <div class="stanza">
+            <p>To the mast-head high we nail the Burge,<a id="footnotetag1"
+            name="footnotetag1"></a><a href="#footnote1"><sup>1</sup></a></p>
+
+            <p>When the north wind snores its dismal dirge!</p>
+
+            <p>In the trough of the sea with a mighty splurge,</p>
+
+            <p>The quiv'ring Yacht beats down the surge,</p>
+
+            <p class="i10">And weathers the Warner Light!</p>
+        </div>
+    </div>
+
+    <p>This experience having inspired me with courage, I indulged
+    in another flight of daring which required all the
+    <i>aplomb</i> of a leader of Fashion to carry out successfully;
+    and, though few of the "smart" Ladies of my set habitually
+    indulge in the habit. I am happy to think I am encouraging them
+    in a healthy and amusing pastime, which, in the Summer, may in
+    time even rival Lawn Tennis! However&mdash;not to beat about
+    the bush any longer&mdash;an utterly absurd expression this
+    is!&mdash;as if it could hurt the bush to beat it!&mdash;to say
+    nothing of the difficulty of keeping a bush always handy to
+    beat!)&mdash;it is time I told you what this great achievement
+    of mine was&mdash;<i>I went paddling!</i> There!&mdash;the
+    secret is out!&mdash;the Fashion is set!&mdash;the new Summer
+    Amusement discovered! The Rules of the Game are being written,
+    and will shortly be published under the title, "<i>Routledge's
+    Etiquette of Paddling, for Ladies of Good Standing</i>." I need
+    hardly tell you that the first thing necessary is to find a
+    secluded bay, and it is also advisable to collect a few
+    children to take with you&mdash;(there are usually plenty left
+    about on the beach from which you can make a
+    selection)&mdash;as a sort of excuse;&mdash;no other implements
+    are required for the game, in fact, superfluities are a
+    nuisance and only get wet&mdash;thus equipped&mdash;the game
+    can be played with freedom&mdash;(<i>not</i> from
+    pebbles)&mdash;combined of course with propriety, and will be
+    found amusing and invigorating&mdash;(quotation from the
+    preface to the Book of Rules written by the eminent German
+    Doctor, HERR SPLASHENWASSER&mdash;inventor of the
+    Water-Cure.</p>
+
+    <p>The next Race meeting requiring attention takes place at
+    Doncaster this week, and the most important race, I take
+    it&mdash;at least, <i>I</i> don't take it&mdash;but the
+    <i>winner</i> will&mdash;another senseless expression&mdash;is
+    naturally the St. Leger, for which I make a poetic selection,
+    which has cost me weeks of anxious thought, no "leger"
+    task!&mdash;(French joke)&mdash;owing to the number of horses
+    engaged, so few of which will run!</p>
+
+    <p class="author">Yours devotedly,<br />
+    LADY GAY.</p>
+
+    <h3 class="sc">St. Leger Selection.</h3>
+
+    <div class="poem">
+        <div class="stanza">
+            <p>The best of the classic events of the year</p>
+
+            <p class="i2">We are told by the students of
+            "form,"</p>
+
+            <p>Is a foregone conclusion, 'tis perfectly clear,</p>
+
+            <p class="i2">For the noble possessor of
+            <i>Orme</i>.</p>
+        </div>
+    </div>
+
+    <blockquote class="footnote">
+        <a id="footnote1"
+                    name="footnote1"></a><b>Footnote 1:</b>
+                    <a href="#footnotetag1">(return)</a>
+
+        <p>This should really be Burg<i>ee</i>, but then it
+        wouldn't rhyme, and a Poet may drop a <i>syllable</i>, if
+        he or she mayn't drop an H!</p>
+    </blockquote>
+    <hr />
+    <span class="pagenum"><a name="page114"
+       id="page114"></a>[pg 114]</span>
+
+    <div class="figcenter"
+         style="width:65%;">
+        <a href="images/114.png"><img width="100%"
+             src="images/114.png"
+             alt="&lt;h3&gt;THE WOMAN THAT &lt;u&gt;WAS&lt;/u&gt;!&lt;/h3&gt;" />
+        </a>
+
+        <h3>THE WOMAN THAT <u>WAS</u>!</h3>
+
+        <p><i>Monsieur le Maréchal</i> (<i>who, during the Forties,
+        was a dashing young Military Attaché at, the French Embassy
+        in London</i>). "AH, DUCHESS, AND DO YOU REMEMBER ZE SO
+        BEAUTIFUL YOUNG LADY MARY GWENDOLEN VERE DE VERE, ZAT
+        EVERYBODY VENT MAD ABOUT VEN I VAS IN ENGLAND? VEN I TINK
+        OF 'ER, MY 'EARRT BEAT EVEN NOW!"</p>
+
+        <p><i>The Duchess</i> (<i>née Mary Gwendolen Vere de
+        Vere</i>). "OH YES, MONSIEUR LE MARÉCHAL, I REMEMBER HER
+        ONLY TOO WELL!"</p>
+
+        <p><i>M. le Maréchal.</i> "VAT 'AS BECAME OF 'ER, MADAME LA
+        DUCHESSE?"</p>
+
+        <p><i>Her Grace</i> (<i>with a sigh</i>). "<i>ELLE N'EST
+        PLUS!</i>"</p>
+    </div>
+    <hr />
+
+    <h2>STUDIES IN THE NEW POETRY.</h2>
+
+    <h3>No. V.</h3>
+
+    <p>It may be objected that <i>Mr. Punch's</i> fifth example
+    does not strictly conform to the canons laid down by him in his
+    prefatory remarks to No. I. <i>Mr. Punch</i> neither admits nor
+    denies the charge. He is convinced, however, that those who do
+    him the honour to read these Studies, might justly complain if
+    he failed to include in them an example of the work of a Poet
+    who has shown our generation how rusticity and rhymes, cattle
+    and Conservative convictions, peasants and patriotism, may be
+    combined in verse. It is scarcely necessary to add that the
+    author of the following magnificent piece is Mr. A-FR-D A-ST-N.
+    Like others who might be named, he has not the honour to be an
+    agricultural labourer; but no living man has sung at greater
+    length of rural life, and its simple joys. Many of his admirers
+    have asserted that Britain ought to have more than one
+    Laureate, and that Mr. A-FR-D A-ST-N ought to be among the
+    number. Others are not prepared to go quite so far. They have
+    been heard to complain that cows and trees, and woodmen and
+    farms, and sheep and wains, and hay and turnips, do not
+    necessarily suggest the highest happiness, and that it is not
+    always dignified for an aspiring Poet to be led about helpless
+    through the byeways of sense by those wilful, wanton
+    playfellows, his rhymes. The two factions may be left to fight
+    out their quarrel over the present example, which, by the way,
+    is <i>not</i> taken from the collected edition of the Poet's
+    works.</p>
+
+    <h3>IS LUNCH WORTH LUNCHING?</h3>
+
+    <h4>(<i>By A-fr-d A-st-n.</i>)</h4>
+
+    <div class="poem">
+        <div class="stanza">
+            <p>Is Lunch worth lunching? Go, dyspeptic man,</p>
+
+            <p class="i2">Where in the meadows green the oxen
+            munch.</p>
+
+            <p>Is it not true that since our land began</p>
+
+            <p class="i2">The hornéd ox hath given us steaks for
+            lunch?</p>
+        </div>
+
+        <div class="stanza">
+            <p>Steaks rump or otherwise, the prime sirloin,</p>
+
+            <p class="i2">Sauced with the stinging radish of the
+            horse.</p>
+
+            <p>Beeves meditate and die; we pay our coin,</p>
+
+            <p class="i2">And though the food be often tough and
+            coarse,</p>
+        </div>
+
+        <div class="stanza">
+            <p>We eat it, we, through whose bold British veins</p>
+
+            <p class="i2">Bold British hearts drive bubbling
+            British blood.</p>
+
+            <p>No true-born Briton, come what may, disdains</p>
+
+            <p class="i2">To eat the patient chewers of the
+            cud.</p>
+        </div>
+
+        <div class="stanza">
+            <p>Or seek the uplands, where of old Bo Peep</p>
+
+            <p class="i2">(So runs the tale) lost all her fleecy
+            flocks;</p>
+
+            <p>There happy shepherds tend their grazing sheep</p>
+
+            <p class="i2">(Some men like mutton, some prefer the
+            ox).</p>
+        </div>
+
+        <div class="stanza">
+            <p>Ay, surely it would need a heart of flint</p>
+
+            <p class="i2">To watch the blithe lambs caper o'er the
+            lea,</p>
+
+            <p>And, watching them, refrain from thoughts of
+            mint,</p>
+
+            <p class="i2">Of new potatoes, and the sweet green
+            pea.</p>
+        </div>
+
+        <div class="stanza">
+            <p>Is Lunch worth lunching? The September sun</p>
+
+            <p class="i2">Makes answer "Yes;" no longer must thou
+            lag.</p>
+
+            <p>Forth to the stubble, cynic; take thy gun,</p>
+
+            <p class="i2">And add the juicy partridge to thy
+            bag.</p>
+        </div>
+
+        <div class="stanza">
+            <p>Out in the fields the keen-eyed pigeons coo;</p>
+
+            <p class="i2">They fill their crops, and then away they
+            fly.</p>
+
+            <p>Pigeons are sometimes passable in stew,</p>
+
+            <p class="i2">And always quite delicious in a pie.</p>
+        </div>
+
+        <div class="stanza">
+            <p>Or pluck red-currants on some summer day,</p>
+
+            <p class="i2">Then take of raspberries an equal
+            part,</p>
+
+            <p>Add cream and sugar&mdash;can mere words convey</p>
+
+            <p class="i2">The luscious joys of this delightful
+            tart?</p>
+        </div>
+
+        <div class="stanza">
+            <p>Is Lunch worth lunching? If such cates should
+            fail,</p>
+
+            <p class="i2">Go out of country bread a solid
+            hunch,</p>
+
+            <p>Pile on it cheese, wash down with country ale,</p>
+
+            <p class="i2">And, faring plainly, yet enjoy thy
+            lunch.</p>
+        </div>
+
+        <div class="stanza">
+            <p>Yea, this is truth, the lunch of knife and fork,</p>
+
+            <p class="i2">The pic-nic lunch, spread out upon the
+            earth,</p>
+
+            <p>Lunches of beef, bread, mutton, veal, or pork,</p>
+
+            <p class="i2">All, all, without exception all, are
+            worth!</p>
+        </div>
+    </div>
+    <hr />
+
+    <p>NINETY-NINE OUT OF A HUNDRED CANDIDATES MUST BE
+    "PILLED."&mdash;The Living of "Easington-with-Liverton,
+    Yorkshire, worth £600 per annum," is vacant. Is it in the gift
+    of the celebrated Dr. COCKLE? or of Dr. CARTER, of
+    Little-Liverpill-Street fame?</p>
+    <hr />
+    <span class="pagenum"><a name="page115"
+       id="page115"></a>[pg 115]</span>
+
+    <div class="figcenter"
+         style="width:100%;">
+        <a href="images/115.png"><img width="100%"
+             src="images/115.png"
+             alt="'BACK!'" /></a>
+
+        <h3>"BACK!"</h3>
+    </div>
+    <hr />
+    <span class="pagenum"><a name="page117"
+       id="page117"></a>[pg 117]</span>
+
+    <h2>PLAYFUL HEIFERVESCENCE AT HAWARDEN.</h2>
+
+    <blockquote class="note">
+        <p>[Mr. GLADSTONE met with an extraordinary adventure in
+        Hawarden Park one day last week. A heifer, which had got
+        loose, made for Mr. GLADSTONE as he was crossing the park,
+        and knocked him down. Mr. GLADSTONE took refuge behind a
+        tree. The heifer scampered off, and was subsequently
+        shot.]</p>
+    </blockquote>
+
+    <div class="figcenter"
+         style="width:65%;">
+        <a href="images/117.png"><img width="100%"
+             src="images/117.png"
+             alt="" /></a>
+    </div>
+
+    <center>
+        G.O.M. <i>sings</i>:&mdash;
+    </center>
+
+    <div class="poem">
+        <div class="stanza">
+            <p>How happy could I be with heifer,</p>
+
+            <p class="i2">If sure it were only her play.</p>
+
+            <p>Is't LABBY? or Labour? Together</p>
+
+            <p class="i2">In one? I'll get out of the way.</p>
+
+            <p><i>Singing</i> (<i>to myself</i>)&mdash;With my tol
+            de rol de rol LABBY, &amp;c.</p>
+        </div>
+
+        <div class="stanza">
+            <p>She comes! On her horns she is playing</p>
+
+            <p class="i2">A tune with a nourish or two!</p>
+
+            <p>No cow-herd am I but my staying</p>
+
+            <p class="i2">To play second fiddle won't do.</p>
+
+            <p><i>Singing</i> (<i>to myself</i>)&mdash;With my tol
+            de rol tol-e-rate LABBY, &amp;c.</p>
+        </div>
+
+        <div class="stanza">
+            <p>Don't chivey her! I would allot her</p>
+
+            <p class="i2">"Three acres," and lots of sweet hay.</p>
+
+            <p>Alas! while I'm talking, they've shot her!</p>
+
+            <p class="i2">Well! heifers, like dogs, have their
+            day!</p>
+
+            <p><i>Singing</i> (<i>to myself, as
+            before</i>)&mdash;With my tol lol de rol-licking LABBY,
+            &amp;c.</p>
+        </div>
+    </div>
+
+    <p><i>Latest.</i>&mdash;After dinner, Mr. GLADSTONE fell asleep
+    in his chair! He was seen to smile, although his repose seemed
+    somewhat disturbed. Presently he was heard to murmur
+    melodiously the words of the old song, slightly adapted to the
+    most recent event,&mdash;"<i>Heifer of thee I'm fondly
+    dreaming</i>!" Then a shudder ran through his frame as he
+    pronounced softly a Latin sentence; it was "<i>Labor omnia
+    vincit</i>!" Then he awoke.</p>
+    <hr />
+
+    <h2>SONGS OUT OF SEASON.</h2>
+
+    <h3>No. II.&mdash;KEW-RIOUS!</h3>
+
+    <div class="poem">
+        <div class="stanza">
+            <p>It's a pleasure worth the danger,</p>
+
+            <p class="i2">Deems your gorgeous DE LA PLUCHE,</p>
+
+            <p>To become the main arranger</p>
+
+            <p class="i2">Of a drive in your barouche;</p>
+
+            <p>And your Coachman, honest JOE too,</p>
+
+            <p class="i2">When approached thereon by JEAMES,</p>
+
+            <p>Doesn't say exactly "no," to</p>
+
+            <p class="i2">Such inviting little schemes.</p>
+        </div>
+
+        <div class="stanza">
+            <p>JEAMES has doffed them "'orrid knee-things;"</p>
+
+            <p class="i2">Plush gives way to tweed and socks;</p>
+
+            <p>And a hamper with the tea-things,</p>
+
+            <p class="i2">Fills his place upon the box;</p>
+
+            <p>With MARIA, JANE, and HEMMA,</p>
+
+            <p class="i2">He is playing archest games,</p>
+
+            <p>And they're in the sweet dilemma,</p>
+
+            <p class="i2">Who shall make the most of JAMES.</p>
+        </div>
+
+        <div class="stanza">
+            <p>Mr. COACHMAN smokes his pipe on</p>
+
+            <p class="i2">His accustomed throne of pride,</p>
+
+            <p>And, through driving, keeps an eye 'pon</p>
+
+            <p class="i2">All the revellers inside.</p>
+
+            <p>Mrs. COACHMAN there is seated;</p>
+
+            <p class="i2">Children twain are on her lapped,</p>
+
+            <p>Who alternately are treated,</p>
+
+            <p class="i2">And alternately are slapped.</p>
+        </div>
+
+        <div class="stanza">
+            <p>While the painters haunt your mansion,</p>
+
+            <p class="i2">And you're "<i>H</i>up" "The
+            <i>H</i>alps" or "Rhind,"</p>
+
+            <p>Your domestics find expansion</p>
+
+            <p class="i2">In diversions of the kind;</p>
+
+            <p>And on such a day as this is,</p>
+
+            <p class="i2">They will drink the health at Kew,</p>
+
+            <p>Of "The Master and the Missis,</p>
+
+            <p class="i2">And their bloomin' kerridge too!"</p>
+        </div>
+    </div>
+    <hr />
+
+    <p>THE PALLIUM AND ARCHIEPISCOPAL OATH CONTROVERSY IN THE
+    "TIMES."&mdash;No wonder this is a very dry subject, when
+    they've got such a strong THURST-ON among them. Our advice, by
+    way of moistening it, is, "Drop it!"</p>
+    <hr />
+
+    <p>"CLERGY FEES" (<i>see "Times"
+    Correspondence</i>).&mdash;<i>Growl of the Archiepiscopal Ogre
+    &amp; Co.</i>:&mdash;</p>
+
+    <div class="poem">
+        <div class="stanza">
+            <p class="i10">"<i>Fee</i>, fi, fo, fum!</p>
+
+            <p class="i4">I smell the coin of a Clergyman!</p>
+
+            <p>Hath he fat glebe, be he ill-fee'd, ill-fed,</p>
+
+            <p>I'll grab his fees to butter my bread!"</p>
+        </div>
+    </div>
+    <hr />
+
+    <h2>A NIGHTLY CHEVALIER.</h2>
+
+    <p>Music-Hall Artists are not by any means "Fixed Stars."
+    During the evening they manage to accomplish the somewhat
+    paradoxical-sounding feat of shining in the same parts, yet in
+    different places and at different times, appearing everywhere
+    with undiminished brilliancy. The Student of the Music-Hall
+    Planetary system, has only by observation to ascertain the
+    exact time and place of the appearance of his favourite bright
+    particular Star, and then to pay his money, take his choice
+    between sitting and standing, and like a true astronomer, he
+    will&mdash;glass in hand, a strong glass too,&mdash;await the
+    great event of the evening, calmly and contentedly.</p>
+
+    <p>If the Wirtuous Westender wandering down the Strand, after
+    having on some previous nights exhausted the Pavilion and the
+    elaborately gorgeous Variety Shows given at the Empire and
+    Alhambra, seeks for awhile a resting-place wherein to enjoy his
+    postprandial cigar, and be amused, if such an one will drop
+    into the classic Tivoli, he will find excellent entertainment,
+    that is as long as their present programme holds the field. The
+    Holborn and the Oxford may delight him on other nights, for it
+    seems that much the same Stars shine all around; but for the
+    present, taking Tivoli as synonymous with Tibur, he may, with
+    Horation humour, say to himself ("himself" being not a bad
+    audience as a rule):&mdash;</p>
+
+    <div class="poem">
+        <div class="stanza">
+            <p>"Holborn Tibur amem ventosus, Tivoli Holborn,"</p>
+        </div>
+    </div>
+
+    <p>and he can then enter the Tivoli, now under the benign rule
+    of that old Music Hall Hand, CAROLUS MORTONIUS, M.A., Magister
+    Agens, while the experienced Mr. VERNON
+    DOWSETT&mdash;"<i>Experientia Dowsett</i>"&mdash;manages the
+    stage. Good as is the entire show, and especially good as is
+    the performance of Mr. CHARLES GODFREY as an old Chelsea
+    Pensioner recounting to several little Peterkins a touching and
+    heart-stirring tale of the Crimean War, yet for me, the
+    Costermonger Songs of Mr. ALBERT CHEVALIER are the great
+    attraction. His now well-known "<i>Coster's Serenade</i>," and
+    his "<i>Knocked 'em in the Old Kent Road</i>," are supplemented
+    by a song and dialogue about a Coster's son, a precocious
+    little chap, about three years old, and "only that 'igh, you
+    know," in whom his father takes so great a pride that it works
+    his own temporary reformation. It is so natural as to be just
+    on the borderland between farce and pathos, and recalls time
+    past, when ROBSON played <i>The Porter's Knot</i>, and
+    such-like pieces. Now what more do Music Halls want than what
+    Mr. CHEVALIER gives them? This is the very essence of a
+    dramatic sketch of character, given in just the time it takes
+    to sing the song,&mdash;that is, about ten minutes, if as much.
+    The compact orchestra, under the directorship of Mr. ASHER,
+    discourses excellent accompaniments, and the music of the
+    CHEVALIER's songs&mdash;composed, I believe, by
+    himself&mdash;is not the least among the attractions. The
+    CHEVALIER, who, as he takes more than one turn every evening,
+    may be termed a Knight Errant, is certainly the Coster's
+    Laureate and accepted Representative in the West; the mine,
+    which is his own, is inexhaustible. He is a magician in his own
+    peculiar line, and may write himself ALBERTUS MAGNUS.</p>
+    <hr />
+
+    <p>"AL FRESCO," the Lightning Artist, whose full name is
+    "ALFRED FRESCO," writes to suggest that the Alhambra under Mr.
+    JOHN HOLLINGSHEAD's management should start a Rotten Row Galop
+    and Kensington Gardens Quadrille to follow as in a series the
+    highly successful <i>Serpentine Dance</i>.</p>
+    <hr />
+
+    <p>NOVEL QUARTETTE.&mdash;At the next Hereford Festival there
+    will be performed a concerted piece by four Short Horns.</p>
+    <hr />
+    <span class="pagenum"><a name="page118"
+       id="page118"></a>[pg 118]</span>
+
+    <div class="figcenter"
+         style="width:100%;">
+        <a href="images/118.png"><img width="100%"
+             src="images/118.png"
+             alt="STARTLING DISCOVERY ON THE YORKSHIRE COAST." />
+             </a>
+
+        <h3>STARTLING DISCOVERY ON THE YORKSHIRE COAST.</h3>
+
+        <p><i>Young Tripper</i> (<i>on his first visit to the Sea,
+        becoming suddenly conscious of the ebbing Tide</i>). "HI!
+        BILL! JACK! T'WATTER BE A RUNNIN' OFF! BY GUM, LADS, BUT AI
+        BET SHE'S BRUSSEN SOMEWHERES!"</p>
+    </div>
+    <hr />
+
+    <h2>THE POOR VIOLINIST.&mdash;An Episode, in the Style of
+    Sterne.</h2>
+
+    <p>"<i>Le Luthier de Crémone</i>," observed EUGENIUS, "is a
+    pathetic story."</p>
+
+    <p>"Indeed, EUGENIUS," replied YORICK, "it is extremely
+    touching. I protest I never read, or hear it, without
+    emotion."</p>
+
+    <p>"The violin," pursued EUGENIUS, "most sensitive, and, as it
+    were, soulful of human instruments, lends itself, with
+    particular aptness, to the purposes of literary pathos."</p>
+
+    <p>"Dear Sensibility!" said I, "source inexhausted of all that
+    is precious in our (poetical) joys, or costly in our (dramatic)
+    sorrows!"</p>
+
+    <p>"It were well," continued YORICK, drily, "if it were also
+    the source inexhausted of more that is quick in our sympathy,
+    and practical in our beneficence. It is scarcely in the columns
+    of the daily news-sheet that Sensibility usually seeks its
+    much-sought stimulus. And yet but lately, in the corner of my
+    paper, I encountered a piteous story that 'dear Sensibility'
+    (had it been more romantically environed) might deliciously
+    have luxuriated in. I protest 'twas as pathetic as those of
+    MARIA LE FEVRE, or LA FLEUR. It was headed, "Sad Death of a
+    Well-known Violinist."</p>
+
+    <p>"Prithee, dear YORICK, let me hear it," cried EUGENIUS.</p>
+
+    <p>"'Twas but the prosaic report of a Coroner's Inquest,"
+    pursued YORICK. "Sensibility would probably have 'skipped' the
+    sordid circumstance. 'FREDERICK MARTIN, aged seventy-two, a
+    well-known Violinist, and Professor of Music, formerly a member
+    of the orchestra of the Italian Opera at Her Majesty's and
+    Covent Garden Theatres,' found life too hard for him. That is
+    all. 'The deceased, a bachelor.'&mdash;Heaven help
+    him!&mdash;'had of late been afflicted with deafness, which
+    hindered his pursuit of his profession, and' (the witness an
+    old friend feared) 'he was recently in straitened
+    circumstances, but he was too proud and independent to ask or
+    accept assistance.' The old friend, Mr. LEWIS CHAPUY, Comedian,
+    had 'frequently offered him hospitalities, which he never
+    accepted.' Offered him hospitalities! Worthy comedian! In
+    faith, EUGENIUS, 'tis delicately worded. True 'Sensibility'
+    here, supplemented by practical sympathy. Both, alas!
+    unavailing. Somewhat of the doggedly independent spirit of the
+    boot-rejecting Dr. JOHNSON in this poor deaf violinist
+    apparently. Verily, EUGENIUS, the story requires but the
+    'decorative art' of the literary sentimentalist to make it
+    moving, even to the modish. The ingeniously emotional historian
+    of LA FLEUR would have made much of it."</p>
+
+    <p>"My gentle heart already bleeds with it," said I. "But the
+    upshot, YORICK; the sequel, my friend?"</p>
+
+    <p>"'Tis short and simple," responded YORICK. "'The afflicted
+    Violinist' occupied a room at 34, Compton Street, Brunswick
+    Square, in which he lived alone. He suffered from lumbago, as
+    well as from a proud spirit and a broken heart. He had a dread
+    of 'coming to the Workhouse.' Spectral fear which haunts ever
+    the sensitive and poverty-stricken! Unreasonable? Perhaps. But
+    not the less agonising. What comfort may Political Economy and
+    an admirable Poor Law yield to proud-spirited victims of
+    poverty?"</p>
+
+    <p>"But surely," said I, "the compassion of the stranger would
+    gladly have poured oil and wine into the wounds of his
+    spirit&mdash;or into poor afflicted MARIA's&mdash;had he only
+    known."</p>
+
+    <p>"Doubtless," said YORICK. "But 'the great Sensorium of the
+    World,' as&mdash;in 'mere pomp of words'&mdash;thou dost
+    designate 'Dear Sensibility,' did <i>not</i> 'vibrate' to the
+    case of this 'well-known Violinist'&mdash;until 'twas too late
+    to vibrate to any useful purpose. He was 'found lying dead in
+    his bed, fully dressed, with the exception of his hat and
+    boots,' mute as the untouched strings of his own violin. 'He
+    had died suddenly from syncope, or heart-failure.'
+    Heart-failure, EUGENIUS. Doth not thy gentle heart fail at the
+    thought? 'Dr. COLLEY found the body in an advanced stage of
+    decomposition, and life had probably been extinct since the
+    preceding Thursday night.' Prithee, Sir, is 'MARIA, sitting
+    pensive under her poplar, more pathetic than this poor broken
+    musician, dying alone, in his poverty and pride?"</p>
+
+    <p>"Indeed, no!" I responded, musingly.</p>
+
+    <p>"Those," continued YORICK, "who go, like the 'Knight of the
+    Rueful Countenance,' in quest of melancholy adventures, need
+    not to make deliberately 'Sentimental Journeys' through France,
+    or Italy, or by forest or mountain, picturesque hamlet, or
+    romantic stream. The purlieus of great cities amongst the
+    poverty-stricken members of what it is usual to call the 'lower
+    middle-classes,' will furnish multitudinous subjects for
+    pensive thought, and&mdash;what were a whole world
+    better&mdash;for practical benevolence. 'Tis too late, alas! to
+    do aught for this dead Violinist, but were eyes and pen more
+    sedulously and sympathetically employed about real, if
+    sordid-seeming, in place of imaginary, if picturesque, woes,
+    why verily, EUGENIUS, something more, perchance, might be done
+    in such pitiful cases as that I have described to thee in
+    non-journalistic language, than what was formally done by the
+    Coroner's Jury, who&mdash;as they were bound to do,
+    indeed&mdash;'<i>returned a verdict in accordance with the
+    medical testimony</i>.'"</p>
+    <hr />
+    <span class="pagenum"><a name="page119"
+       id="page119"></a>[pg 119]</span>
+
+    <div class="figcenter"
+         style="width:100%;">
+        <a href="images/119.png"><img width="100%"
+             src="images/119.png"
+             alt="PUNCH'S PIC-NIC. THE PARLIAMENTARY MIRAGE." />
+             </a>
+
+        <h3>PUNCH'S PIC-NIC. THE PARLIAMENTARY MIRAGE.</h3>
+    </div>
+    <hr />
+    <span class="pagenum"><a name="page120"
+       id="page120"></a>[pg 120]</span>
+
+    <h2>LETTERS TO ABSTRACTIONS.</h2>
+
+    <h3>No. XIII.&mdash;TO IRRITATION.</h3>
+
+    <p>I have just come home from my Club in a state bordering upon
+    distraction. No great misfortune has happened to me, my dearest
+    friend has not been black-balled, the Club bore has not had me
+    in his unrelenting clutches. The waiters have been, as indeed
+    they always are, civil and obliging, the excellent <i>chef</i>
+    catered with his usual skill to my simple mid-day wants, my
+    table companions were good-humoured, cheerful, and pleasantly
+    cynical. What then, you may ask, has happened to shatter my
+    nerves and impair my temper for the day? It is a simple matter,
+    and I am almost ashamed to confess it openly. But I am
+    encouraged by the fact that two eminently solid and, so far as
+    I could see, perfectly unemotional gentlemen were as deeply
+    pricked and worried by what happened as I was myself. To begin
+    with, I do not admit that my nerves vibrate more easily than
+    those of my fellow-men. I have never killed an organ-grinder, I
+    am guiltless of the blood of a German band, I have even gone so
+    far as to spare guards who asked for my railway-ticket after I
+    had carefully wrapped myself up for a journey, and no touting
+    vendor of subscription books or works of art can truthfully say
+    that I have kicked him. On the whole I think I am reasonably
+    even-tempered and of higher than average amiability. Others may
+    judge me differently. I don't wish to quarrel with them. I
+    simply reiterate my opinion. Why then am I to-day in a seething
+    state of exception to my rule? Here is the cause:</p>
+
+    <div class="figright"
+         style="width:40%;">
+        <a href="images/120.png"><img width="100%"
+             src="images/120.png"
+             alt="" /></a>
+    </div>
+
+    <p>After I had done with my luncheon, and had puffed a friendly
+    cigar, I proceeded to that room in the Club which is specially
+    dedicated to literature and silence. What a feast of
+    multitudinous periodicals is there spread out, how brightly the
+    variegated array of books from the circulating library attracts
+    the leisurely, how dignified and awe-inspiring are the
+    far-stretching ranks of accumulated volumes upon the shelves.
+    And the carpet, how soft, and the chairs how comfortably easy.
+    Into one of these chairs I sank with a religious novel (I
+    merely mention the fact, whether for praise or blame I care
+    not), and began to think deeply about various life-problems
+    that have much distressed me. Why must men wear themselves out
+    prematurely with labour? Why must we suffer? And why, granting
+    the necessity for pain, should I occasionally sink under a
+    toothache, while HARRISON, a blatant fellow with a red face and
+    a loud voice, continues in a condition of robust and oppressive
+    health? These speculations were not so painful and disturbing
+    as might be supposed. Indeed, they had a soothing effect. From
+    the rhythmical breathing and the closed eyes of two other
+    occupants of arm-chairs, I judged that they were similarly
+    occupied in philosophic reflection. I was just composing myself
+    to a bout of specially hard thinking, when, lo, the door
+    opened, and in stepped Dr. FUSSELL!</p>
+
+    <p>Everybody, I take it, knows Dr. FUSSELL. He is a member of
+    countless learned Societies. Over many of them he presides, to
+    some he acts as secretary. He reads papers on abstruse
+    questions connected with sanitation, he dashes with a kind of
+    wild war-whoop into impassioned newspaper controversies on the
+    component elements of a dust particle, or the civilisation of
+    the Syro-Ph&oelig;nicians. He is acute, dialectical, scornful
+    and furious. He denounces those who oppose him as the meanest
+    of mankind, he extols his supporters as the most illustrious
+    and reasonable of all who have benefited the human race. In the
+    Club he is always engaged in some investigation which keeps him
+    continuously skipping from bookshelf to bookshelf, climbing up
+    ladders to reach the highest shelves, rushing up and
+    down-stairs with sheaves of paper bulging in his coat-pockets,
+    or stowed under his arms. He lays his top-hat on the table, and
+    makes it a receptacle for reams of notes and volumes of
+    projected essays. In a word, he is a human storm.</p>
+
+    <p>Well, in he came with his grey hair streaming over his
+    forehead, and his eyes aflame. I knew in a moment that repose
+    in his presence was out of the question, though I still sat on,
+    hoping against hope. First, the Doctor bounded to the
+    fire-place, seized the poker, and began to rummage the fire. It
+    was a good fire, and had done nothing to deserve this
+    punishment. I shifted on my seat; the two other philosophers
+    opened their eyes and frowned, and still Dr. FUSSELL continued
+    to rummage. Now I knew, not only that that fire was being poked
+    on an entirely wrong principle, but that I alone knew how it
+    ought to be poked. My fingers itched, my whole body tingled
+    with excitement. At last Dr. FUSSELL ceased. In a moment I was
+    out of my seat and making a bee-line for the poker. I just
+    managed to beat the other two by a short head, seized the
+    poker, and relieved my soul by stirring the fire on strictly
+    scientific principles. The others watched me hungrily. When I
+    had finished, each of them took a short turn with the poker,
+    and then we all returned, more or less appeased, to our
+    seats.</p>
+
+    <p>But we had not done with the ineffable FUSSELL. By this time
+    he was on the top of a step-ladder. Slowly he selected six
+    tomes, and began his perilous descent. Our eyes were riveted
+    upon him. Crash, bang! His arms were empty, and the
+    unconscionable books fluttered and clattered to the floor.
+    Slowly and ruefully did FUSSELL descend into the cloud of dust
+    and gather his bruised treasures from the carpet. At last he
+    heaped them on his table, and began to write. We hoped for
+    peace, but it was not to be. A sudden thought struck him. He
+    would sew his scattered leaves of MS. together. With dreadful
+    deliberation he took needle and cotton from a little pocket
+    housewife that he carried with him; and then began one of the
+    most maddening performances I have ever watched. Carefully he
+    held the needle to the light, carefully he wetted and trimmed
+    his cotton to a point. And for ten stricken minutes we saw him
+    miss the eye of the needle, sometimes by an inch, sometimes by
+    a hair's breadth. It was a thrilling contest between obstinacy
+    and evasiveness. I was fascinated by it. Every time, as the
+    cotton neared the eye, my heart slowly ascended into my mouth,
+    only to drop with a fatal swiftness into my boots as the
+    triumphant needle scored another victory. I began to imitate
+    FUSSELL's every movement. I threaded invisible needles by the
+    gross with imperceptible cotton. I felt in my own breast all
+    the ardour of the chase, all the bitter sorrow of repeated
+    failures. My two companions in misfortune were similarly
+    affected, and there we sat, three sane and ordinary men,
+    feverishly going through all these itching movements with
+    FUSSELL as our detested, but unconscious fugleman. The strain
+    became too great. I sprang from my chair, "Sir," I said to the
+    astonished FUSSELL, "permit me; I learnt the art of threading
+    needles as a boy from an East End seamstress," and before he
+    had time to protest, I had seized the offending instruments,
+    and by a stroke of inspiration had passed the cotton through.
+    Then without waiting to hear what FUSSELL might have to say, I
+    fled from the room. And here consequently I sit with my nerves
+    shattered, and an untasted crumpet cooling on the tea-tray.</p>
+
+    <p>Am I singular? I think not. There are others whose
+    mannerisms plague me too. For instance, TRUBERRY, whom I meet
+    occasionally, has a wild and venomous habit of relating to me
+    his infinitesimal jokelets. That I could pardon. But when,
+    having related one, he bursts, as he always does, into a
+    helpless suffocation of purple laughter, the savage within me
+    awakes and I murder TRUBERRY in fancy to an accompaniment of
+    refined and protracted tortures. Once, as I helped him on with
+    his overcoat, he joked and exploded. My fingers were horribly
+    near his throat. But I mastered the impulse, and TRUBERRY will
+    never know how near he was to destruction. And to make matters
+    worse, he is one of the kindest and most considerately helpful
+    of human beings. Oh, IRRITATION, IRRITATION, you have much to
+    answer for. The fly in the ointment of the apothecary was a
+    baby to you. Avaunt, avaunt!</p>
+
+    <p class="author">DIOGENES ROBINSON.</p>
+    <hr />
+
+    <p>THE VERY LATEST.&mdash;Mrs. RAM had a paragraph read to her
+    from the <i>D.T.'s</i> "London Day by Day," recounting how the
+    Archbishop of CANTERBURY when staying at Haddo House, had
+    attended service in the parish Kirk, which conduct might have
+    provoked High Churchmen to assail him for "bowing the knee in
+    the House of Rimmon." Thinking it over afterwards, when she had
+    muddled up the name in her usual fashion, our old friend Mrs.
+    R. observed, with some humour, that she thought "the Archbishop
+    had shown his good scents by going to the House of RIMMEL."</p>
+    <hr />
+
+    <p><font size="+1">&#9758;</font> NOTICE.&mdash;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.
+103, September 10, 1892, by Various
+
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+</body>
+</html>
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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Punch, Or The London Charivari, Vol. 103,
+September 10, 1892, 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. 103, September 10, 1892
+
+Author: Various
+
+Release Date: February 28, 2005 [EBook #15196]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PUNCH ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Malcolm Farmer, William Flis, and the PG Online
+Distributed Proofreading Team.
+
+
+
+
+
+PUNCH,
+
+OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.
+
+VOL. 103.
+
+
+
+September 10, 1892.
+
+
+
+
+WHY I DON'T WRITE PLAYS.
+
+(_FROM THE COMMON-PLACE BOOK OF A NOVELIST._)
+
+Because it is so much pleasanter to read one's work than to hear it on
+the Stage.
+
+Because Publishers are far more amiable to deal with than
+Actor-Managers.
+
+Because "behind the scenes" is such a disappointing place--except in
+Novels.
+
+Because why waste three weeks on writing a Play, when it takes only
+three years to compose a Novel?
+
+Because Critics who send articles to Magazines inviting one to
+contribute to the Stage, have no right to dictate to us.
+
+Because a fairly successful Novel means five hundred pounds, and a
+fairly successful Play yields as many thousands--why be influenced by
+mercenary motives?
+
+Because all Novelists hire their pens in advance for years, and have
+no time left for outside labour.
+
+And last, and (perhaps) not least, Why don't I send in a Play? Because
+I _have_ tried to write _one_, and find I can't quite manage it!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+According to recent accounts, the attitude of the Salvation Army in
+Canada may be fairly described as "Revolting."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration: EQUIVOCAL.
+
+_Rising Young Physician_ (_who cured so many Patients in last year's
+Epidemic_). "NOT MUCH CHANCE OF MORE INFLUENZA IN ENGLAND _THIS_
+WINTER, I FANCY!"
+
+_His Wife._ "LET US HOPE FOR THE BEST, DEAREST!"]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+A DIARY OF THE DEAD SEASON.
+
+(_SUGGESTED BY THE CONTENTS BILLS._)
+
+_Monday._--First appearance of "the Epidemic." Good bold line with
+reference to Russia. Not of sufficient importance to head the Bill,
+but still distinctly taking.
+
+_Tuesday._--Quite a feature. Centre of the Bill with sub-lines of
+"Horrible Disclosures," and "Painful Scenes." Becoming a boom. To be
+further developed to-morrow.
+
+_Wednesday._--Bill all "Epidemic." Even Cricket sacrificed to make
+room for it. "News from Abroad." "Horrors at Hamburg." No idea it
+would turn out so well. A perfect treasure-trove at this quiet season
+of the year!
+
+_Thursday._--Nothing but "Epidemic"--"Arrival in
+England"--"Precautions Everywhere." Let the boom go! It feeds itself!
+Nearly as good as a foreign war!
+
+_Friday._--Still "the Epidemic," but requires strengthening.
+"Spreading in the Provinces," but still, not like it was. Falling
+flat.
+
+_Saturday._--A good sensational Murder! The very thing for the
+Contents Bills. Exit "the Epidemic," until again wanted.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+SONGS OF SOCIETY;
+
+I.--INTRODUCTORY. TO MY LYRE.
+
+    ["Smoothly written _vers de Societe_, where a _boudoir_
+    decorum is, or ought always to be, preserved; where sentiment
+    never surges into passion, and where humour never overflows
+    into boisterous merriment."--_Frederick Locker's Preface to
+    "Lyra Elegantiarum."_]
+
+[Illustration]
+
+  Dear Lyre, your duty now you know!
+  If one would sing with grace and glow
+          Songs of Society,
+  One must not dream of fire, or length,
+  Or vivid touch, or virile strength,
+          Or great variety.
+
+  Among the Muses of Mayfair
+  A Bacchanal with unbound hair,
+          And loosened girdle,
+  Would be as purely out of place
+  As Atalanta in a race
+          O'er hedge or hurdle:
+
+  Our Muse, dear Lyra, must be trim,
+  Must not indulge in vagrant whim,
+          Of voice or vesture.
+  Boudoir decorum will allow
+  No gleaming eye, no glowing brow,
+          No ardent gesture.
+
+  Society, which is our theme,
+  Is like a well-conducted stream
+          Which calmly ripples.
+  We sing the World where no one feels
+  Too pungently, or hates, or steals,
+          Or loves, or tipples.
+
+  And should you hint that down below
+  The subtle siren all men know
+          Is hiding _her_ face,
+  Our answer is: "That may be true,
+  But boudoir bards have nought to do
+          Save with the surface."
+
+  And therefore, though Society feel
+  The Proletariat's heavy heel
+          Its kibe approaching,
+  Some luxuries yet are left to sing,
+  The Opera-Box, the Row, the Ring,
+          And Golf, and Coaching.
+
+  Not e'en the Socialistic scare
+  The dandyish and the debonair
+          Has quite demolished;
+  Whilst Privilege hath still a purse,
+  There's yet a chance for flowing verse,
+          And periods polished.
+
+  If IBSEN, BELLAMY, and GEORGE,
+  Raise not the boudoir critic's gorge
+          Beyond all bearing,
+  Light lyrics may she not endure,
+  On social ills above her cure,
+          Below her caring?
+
+  Muse, with Society we may toy
+  Without impassioned grief or joy,
+          Or boisterous merriment;
+  May sing of Sorrow with a smile;
+  At least, it may be worth our while
+          To try the experiment.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+QUITE THE TREBLE GLOUCESTER CHEESE!--The Three Quires' Festival this
+week. Do the Three Quires appear in the Cathedral? If so, as each
+quire means twenty-four sheets, there'll he quite a "Surplice Stock."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+CONTRIBUTION BY OUR OWN "MULEY HASSAN."--_Puzzle_--To find "three
+Single Gentlemen rolled into one?" _Answer_--Sir EUAN SMITH.
+_Explanation_--Sir, You, an' SMITH. [_Exit_ MULEY HASSAN _going to
+Bray._
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Why ought a Quack's attendance on a patient to be gratis?--Because he
+is No-Fee-sician.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration: "LA-BOUCHE-RE(-NARD) ET LES RAISINS."]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration: A MERE PREJUDICE.
+
+_Tourist._ "I SEE YOU EMPLOY A GOOD MANY WOMEN ABOUT HERE, FARMER."
+
+_Farmer._ "HAVE TO DO, HARVEST-TIME, SIR; BUT FOR MYSELF I MUCH PREFER
+MANUAL LABOUR!"]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+MORE REASONS FOR STOPPING IN TOWN.
+
+_Commodore Buncombe._ Because I know those infernal Tentonners, and
+---- Chartreuse jaune only makes me worse.
+
+_William Sikes._ Because of the gross incompetence of my Counsel,
+and the ridiculous adverse prepossessions of the Jury at my recent
+appearance in public at the C.C.C.
+
+_McStinger._ Because there's bonny braw air on the braes of Hampstead,
+and it costs but a bawbee to get intil it.
+
+_Fitz-Fluke._ Because, since that awkward affair at the Roulette Club,
+my country invitations haven't come in.
+
+_Capel Courtney._ Because those beastly bucket-shops have collared all
+our business.
+
+_Bumpshus, M.P._ Because the Lords of the Treasury (shabby crew
+of place-hunters) declined to adopt my suggestion, and to place a
+trooper, thoroughly well found, victualled, and overhauled, at the
+disposal of any Members of the Lower House whose profound sense of
+duty, and of the importance of the Imperial Federation idea, impelled
+them to take a six-months' trip round the world at the nation's
+expense.
+
+_Theodore John Hook Straight._ Because of the old trouble--"got a
+complaint in the chest."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration: PHILLIPOPOLIS.
+
+_Toper Major_ (_over their third bottle of a Grand Vin_). I shay,
+ol' f'ler, neksh year thinksh'll go see ex'bishun at Ph-Phipp--at
+Philup-popple--
+
+_Toper Minor._ I know, ol'f'ler. You mean Philipoppoppo--poppo--
+
+_Toper Major._ Thatsh it--shame place. Have 'nother bo'l!
+
+[_They drink._]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"THE SPEECH OF MONKEYS."--Professor R.L. GARNER, who is a great
+hand at "getting his Monkey up" (he was naturally a bit annoyed at
+being, quite recently, accidentally prevented from giving his Monkey
+lecture), is about to commence operations by adapting the old song
+of "_Let us be Happy Together_" to Monkey Language, when it will
+re-appear as "_Let us be Apey Together_." It will be first given at
+Monkey Island on Thames.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+CRICKETERS WHO OUGHT TO BE GOOD HANDS AT PLAYING A TIE.--"The Eleven
+of Notts."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+UN-BROCKEN VOWS.
+
+Walpurgis Brocken Night at Crystal Palace last Thursday--Grand!
+Jupiter Pluvius suspended buckets, and celestial water-works rested
+awhile to make way for Terrestrial Fire-works. "Todgers's can do it
+when it likes," as all Martin-Chuzzlewiters know, and BROCK can do it
+too when _he_ likes. _A propos_ of DICKENS' quotation above, it is
+on record that _Mr. Pickwick_ was once addressed as "Old Fireworks."
+Where? When? and How? _Mr. Pickwick_, we are led to infer by the
+commentary thereon, somewhat objected to the term, unless our
+Pickwickian memory fail us--which is not improbable--but Mr. BROCK
+would appropriate it to himself with pleasure, and be "'proud o' the
+title' as the Living Skeleton said." Despite wind and weather, and
+_contretemps_ generally, BROCK has never brocken faith with the
+public. "_Facta non verba_" is his motto: and "_Facta_" means (here)
+Fire-works.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"GREAT BRITAIN AND THE GILBERT ISLANDS."--Captain DAVIS of H.M. Screw
+Cruiser _Royalist_, on May 27, formally annexed "The Gilbert Islands."
+Where was SULLIVAN? Or is it that Sir ARTHUR, having been annexed as a
+Knight, was unable to interfere? Will D'OYLY CARTE explain?
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+THE MENAGERIE RACE.
+
+    SCENE--_The terrace in front of Hauberk Hall, which the_
+    LARKSPURS _have taken for the Summer_. TIME--_An August
+    afternoon. Miss STELLA LARKSPUR--a young lady with great
+    energy and a talent for organisation--has insisted upon all
+    the Guests taking part in a Menagerie Race._
+
+_The Rev. Ninian Headnote, the Local Curate_ (_to Mr. PLUMLEY
+DUFF--after uneasily regarding Miss STELLA, as she shakes up some
+pieces of folded paper in a hat_). Can you give me any idea of the
+precise nature of this amusement--er--nothing resembling a gambling
+transaction, I suppose?--or I really--
+
+_Mr. Plumley Duff_. Well, I'm given to understand that we shall each
+be expected to take an animal of some sort, and drive it along with a
+string tied to its leg. Sounds childish--to _me_.
+
+_The Curate_ (_relieved_). Oh, exactly, I see. Most entertaining,
+I'm sure! (_He coos._) What wonderful ingenuity one sees in devising
+ever-fresh pastimes, do we not? Indeed, yes!
+
+_Miss Stella_. There, I've shuffled all the animals now. (_Presenting
+the hat_.) Mr. HEADNOTE, will you draw first?
+
+_The Curate_. Oh, really. Am I to take one of these? Charmed! (_He
+draws._) Now I wonder what my fate--(_Opening the paper_.) The Monkey!
+(_His face falls._) _Is_ there a Monkey here? _Dear_ me, how _very_
+interesting!
+
+_Dick Gatling_ (_of H.M. Gunboat "Weasel"_). Brought him over my
+last cruise from Colombo. No end of a jolly little beast--bites like
+the--like _blazes_, you know!
+
+_Miss Stella_ (_to her Cousin_). Now, DICK, I won't have you taking
+away poor Jacko's character like that. He's only bitten BINNS--and,
+well, there _was_ the gardener's boy--but I'm sure he _teased_ him.
+_You_ won't tease him, will you, Mr. HEADNOTE?
+
+_The Curate_. I--I shouldn't dream of it, Miss STELLA,--on the
+contrary, I--(_To himself._) Was it quite discreet to let myself
+be drawn into this? Shall I not risk lowering my office by publicly
+associating myself with a--a Monkey? I feel certain the Vicar would
+disapprove strongly.
+
+_Dick_ (_to Colonel KEMPTON_). Drawn _your_ animal yet, Sir?
+
+_The Colonel_ (_heatedly_). Yes, I have--and I wish I'd kept out of
+this infernal tomfoolery. Why the mischief don't they leave a man in
+peace and quietness on a hot afternoon like this? Here am I, routed
+out of a comfortable seat to go and drive a confounded White Rabbit,
+Sir! Idiotic, _I_ call it!
+
+_The Curate_. Pardon me, Colonel KEMPTON; but if you object to the
+Rabbit, I would not at all mind undertaking it myself--and you could
+take my Monkey--
+
+_The Colonel_. Thanks--but I won't deprive you. A Rabbit is quite
+responsibility enough for me!
+
+_The Curate_ (_to himself, disappointed_). He's afraid of a poor
+harmless Monkey--and he an Army man, too! But I _don't_ see why _I_--
+
+_Miss Gussie Grissell_. Oh, Mr. HEADNOTE, _isn't_ it ridiculous!
+They've given me a Kitten! It makes me feel too absurdly young!
+
+_The Curate_ (_eagerly_). If you would prefer a--a more appropriate
+animal, there's a Monkey, which I am sure--(_To himself, as Miss
+G. turns away indignantly_). This Monkey doesn't seem very
+popular--there must be _someone_ here who--I'll try the American
+Lady--they are generally eccentric. (_To Mrs. HEBER K. BANGS._) I hope
+Fortune has been kind to you, Mrs. BANGS?
+
+_Mrs. Bangs_. Well, I don't know; there _are_ quadrupeds that can trot
+faster over the measured mile than a Tortoise, and that's _my_ animal.
+
+_The Curate_ (_with sympathy_). Dear me! That is a trial, indeed, for
+you! But if you would prefer something rather more exciting, I should
+be most happy, I'm sure, to exchange my Monkey--
+
+_Dick Gatling_ (_bustling up_). Hallo, what's that? No, no, Mrs.
+BANGS--be true to your Tortoise. I tell you he's going to romp
+in--AEsop's tip, don't you know? I've backed you to win or a place. I
+say, what do you think _I_'ve drawn--the Mutton! Just my luck!
+
+_The Curate_. DICK, just come this way a moment--I've a proposition
+to make; it's occurred to me that the Monkey would feel more--more at
+home with you, and, in short, I--
+
+_Mr. Plumley Duff_ (_plaintively, to Miss CYNTHIA CHAFFERS_). I
+shouldn't have minded any other animal--but to be paired off with a
+Goose!
+
+_Miss Chaffers_ (_consolingly_). You're better off than _I_ am, at all
+events--I've got a Puppy!
+
+_Mr. Duff_. Have you? (_After a pause--sentimentally_.) Happy Puppy!
+
+_Miss C._ He'll be anything but a happy Puppy if he doesn't win.
+
+_Mr. Duff_. Oh, but he's sure to. I know I would, if _I_ was your
+Puppy!
+
+_Miss C._ I'm not so sure of that. Don't they lodge objections, or
+something, for boring?
+
+_Mr. Fanshawe_. Can anybody inform me whether I'm expected to go and
+catch my Peacock? Because I'll be hanged if--
+
+_The Curate_. Oh, Miss STELLA, it's all right--Mr. GATLING thinks
+that it would be better if he undertook the Monkey himself; so we've
+arranged to--
+
+_Miss Stella_. Oh, nonsense, DICK! I can't have you taking advantage
+of Mr. HEADNOTE's good-nature like that. What's the use of drawing
+lots at all if you don't keep to them? Of _course_ Mr. HEADNOTE will
+keep the Monkey.
+
+    [_The unfortunate Curate accepts his lot with Christian
+    resignation_.
+
+_Dick_. Well, _that's_ settled--but I say, STELLA, where's my Mutton's
+moorings--and what's to be the course?
+
+_Stella_. The course is straight up the Avenue from the Lodge to the
+House, and I've told them to get all the beasts down there ready for
+us; so we'd better go at once.
+
+THE START.
+
+_The Competitors_. STELLA, my dear, _mustn't_ Miss GRISSELL tell her
+kitten not to claw my Tortoise's head every time he pokes his poor
+nose out? It isn't fair, and it's damping all his enthusiasm!... Now,
+Colonel KEMPTON, it isn't the Puppy's fault--you _know_ your Rabbit
+began it!... Hi, STELLA, hold on a bit, my Mutton wants to lie down.
+Mayn't I kick it up!... DUFF, old chap, your Goose is dragging her
+anchor again, back her engines a bit, or there'll be a foul.... Miss
+STELLA, I--I really _don't_ think this Monkey is quite well--his teeth
+are chattering in such a _very_.... All right, _padre_, only his nasty
+temper--jerk the beggar's chain. More than _that_!
+
+_Chorus of Spectators at Lodge Gates_. My word, I wonder what next the
+gentry'll be up to, I dew. Ain't Miss STELLA orderin' of 'en about!
+Now she's started 'en. They ain't not allowed to go 'ittin of 'en--got
+to go just wheeriver the animiles want. Lor, the guse is takin _his_
+genlm'n in among the treeses! Well, if iver I did! That theer tartus
+gits along, don't he? Passon don't seem com'fable along o' that
+monkey. I'll back the young sailor gent--keeps that sheep wunnerful
+stiddy, he do. There's the hold peacock puttin' on a bust now. Well,
+well, these be fine doin's for 'Auberk 'All, and no mistake. Make old
+Sir HALBERD stare if he was 'ere, &c., &c.
+
+_The Colonel_ (_wrathfully to his Rabbit, which will do nothing but
+run round and round him_). Stop that, will you, you little fool. Do
+you want to trip me up! Of all the dashed nonsense I ever--!
+
+_Mrs. Bangs_. My! Colonel, you do seem to have got hold of a pretty
+insubordinate kind of a Rabbit, too!
+
+_The Colonel_ (_looking round_). Well, you aren't getting much pace
+out of your Tortoise either, if it comes to that!
+
+_Mrs. Bangs_. He puts in most of his time in stoppages for rest
+and refreshment. I'm beginning to believe that old fable's a fraud.
+Anyway, it's my opinion this Tortoise isn't going to beat any
+hare--unless it's a jugged one.
+
+_Dick Gatling_ (_in front, as his Sheep halts to crop the turf in
+a leisurely manner_). We've not pulled up--only lying-to to take in
+supplies. We're going ahead directly. There, what did I tell you! Now
+she's tacking!
+
+_The Curate_ (_in the rear_). Poo' little Jacko, then--there, there,
+quietly now! Miss STELLA, what does it mean when it gibbers like that?
+(_Sotto voce._) I wonder, if I let go the chain--
+
+_Mr. Duff_ (_hauling his Goose towards Miss CHAFFERS_). It's no
+use--_I_ can't keep this beast from bolting off the course!
+
+_Miss C._ Do keep it away from my Puppy, at all events. I _know_ it
+will peck him, and he's perfectly happy licking my shoe--he's found
+out there's sugar-candy in the varnish.
+
+_Mr. Duff_ (_solemnly_). Yes, but I _say_, you know--that's all very
+well, but it's not making him _race_, is it? Now I _am_ getting some
+running out of my Goose.
+
+_Miss C._ Rather in-and-out-running, isn't it? (_Cries of distress
+from the rear._) But what is the matter now? That poor dear Curate
+again!
+
+_The Curate_ (_in agony_). Here, I say, somebody! _do_ help me! Miss
+STELLA, do speak to your monkey, please! It's jumped on my back, and
+it's pulling my hair--'ow!
+
+    [_Most of the Competitors abandon their animals and rush to
+    the rescue._
+
+_Dick Gatling_ (_coming up later_). Why on earth did you all jack
+up like that? You've missed a splendid finish! My Mutton was forging
+ahead like fun, when FANSHAWE's Peacock hoisted his sail, and drew
+alongside, and it was neck and neck. Only, as he had more neck than
+the Mutton, and stuck it out, he won by a beak. Look here, let's have
+it all over again!
+
+    [_But the Monkey being up a tree, and the Colonel having
+    surreptitiously got rid of his Rabbit among the bracken,
+    and the Tortoise having retired within his shell and firmly
+    declined to come out again, sport is abandoned for the
+    afternoon, to the scarcely disguised relief of the Curate,
+    who is prevented from remaining to tea by the pressure of
+    parish-work._
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration: THE ONLY MAN IN ROTTEN ROW.
+
+SCENE FROM THE RAKE'S PROGRESS.]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+LADY GAY'S SELECTIONS.
+
+_Mount Street, Grosvenor Square._
+
+DEAR MR. PUNCH,
+
+Once more I am back in my London "_pied-a-terre_"--(but how it can he
+a _pied-a-TERRE_, I don't quite know, considering it's a flat on the
+fourth floor!--_ridiculous_ language French is to be sure!)--and
+
+very glad to get home again I assure you. I have spent the last few
+weeks in the Isle of Wight, which is a British Possession in the
+latitude of Spithead--(I don't know why Spithead should want any
+latitude, but it seems to take a good deal!)--sacred to Tourists,
+_Char-a-bancs_, and Pirates--the latter disguised as Lodging-letters!
+
+While there we suffered severely from Regattas; which swarm in the
+Island at this season, and are hotly pursued by the visitors, with the
+deadly telescope. I myself was bitten once by the Regatta Bacteria,
+and very painful it was. My friend, Baron VON HODGEMANN, owner of the
+_Anglesey_, persuaded me to go on board for a race, and we travelled
+the whole thirty miles sitting at an angle of forty-five degrees, and
+singing the war-cry of the Royal Victoria Yacht Club!--
+
+  To the mast-head high we nail the Burge,[1]
+  When the north wind snores its dismal dirge!
+  In the trough of the sea with a mighty splurge,
+  The quiv'ring Yacht beats down the surge,
+            And weathers the Warner Light!
+
+This experience having inspired me with courage, I indulged in another
+flight of daring which required all the _aplomb_ of a leader of
+Fashion to carry out successfully; and, though few of the "smart"
+Ladies of my set habitually indulge in the habit. I am happy to think
+I am encouraging them in a healthy and amusing pastime, which, in the
+Summer, may in time even rival Lawn Tennis! However--not to beat about
+the bush any longer--an utterly absurd expression this is!--as if it
+could hurt the bush to beat it!--to say nothing of the difficulty of
+keeping a bush always handy to beat!)--it is time I told you what this
+great achievement of mine was--_I went paddling!_ There!--the secret
+is out!--the Fashion is set!--the new Summer Amusement discovered!
+The Rules of the Game are being written, and will shortly be published
+under the title, "_Routledge's Etiquette of Paddling, for Ladies of
+Good Standing_." I need hardly tell you that the first thing necessary
+is to find a secluded bay, and it is also advisable to collect a few
+children to take with you--(there are usually plenty left about on the
+beach from which you can make a selection)--as a sort of excuse;--no
+other implements are required for the game, in fact, superfluities
+are a nuisance and only get wet--thus equipped--the game can be played
+with freedom--(_not_ from pebbles)--combined of course with propriety,
+and will be found amusing and invigorating--(quotation from the
+preface to the Book of Rules written by the eminent German Doctor,
+HERR SPLASHENWASSER--inventor of the Water-Cure.
+
+The next Race meeting requiring attention takes place at Doncaster
+this week, and the most important race, I take it--at least, _I_
+don't take it--but the _winner_ will--another senseless expression--is
+naturally the St. Leger, for which I make a poetic selection, which
+has cost me weeks of anxious thought, no "leger" task!--(French
+joke)--owing to the number of horses engaged, so few of which will
+run!
+
+Yours devotedly, LADY GAY.
+
+ST. LEGER SELECTION.
+
+  The best of the classic events of the year
+    We are told by the students of "form,"
+  Is a foregone conclusion, 'tis perfectly clear,
+    For the noble possessor of _Orme_.
+
+[Footnote 1: This should really be Burg_ee_, but then it wouldn't
+rhyme, and a Poet may drop a _syllable_, if he or she mayn't drop an
+H!]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration: THE WOMAN THAT WAS!
+
+_Monsieur le Marechal_ (_who, during the Forties, was a dashing young
+Military Attache at, the French Embassy in London_). "AH, DUCHESS,
+AND DO YOU REMEMBER ZE SO BEAUTIFUL YOUNG LADY MARY GWENDOLEN VERE DE
+VERE, ZAT EVERYBODY VENT MAD ABOUT VEN I VAS IN ENGLAND? VEN I TINK OF
+'ER, MY 'EARRT BEAT EVEN NOW!"
+
+_The Duchess_ (_nee Mary Gwendolen Vere de Vere_). "OH YES, MONSIEUR
+LE MARECHAL, I REMEMBER HER ONLY TOO WELL!"
+
+_M. le Marechal._ "VAT 'AS BECAME OF 'ER, MADAME LA DUCHESSE?"
+
+_Her Grace_ (_with a sigh_). "_ELLE N'EST PLUS!_"]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+STUDIES IN THE NEW POETRY.
+
+NO. V.
+
+It may be objected that _Mr. Punch's_ fifth example does not strictly
+conform to the canons laid down by him in his prefatory remarks to No.
+I. _Mr. Punch_ neither admits nor denies the charge. He is convinced,
+however, that those who do him the honour to read these Studies, might
+justly complain if he failed to include in them an example of the
+work of a Poet who has shown our generation how rusticity and rhymes,
+cattle and Conservative convictions, peasants and patriotism, may be
+combined in verse. It is scarcely necessary to add that the author of
+the following magnificent piece is Mr. A-FR-D A-ST-N. Like others who
+might be named, he has not the honour to be an agricultural labourer;
+but no living man has sung at greater length of rural life, and its
+simple joys. Many of his admirers have asserted that Britain ought to
+have more than one Laureate, and that Mr. A-FR-D A-ST-N ought to be
+among the number. Others are not prepared to go quite so far. They
+have been heard to complain that cows and trees, and woodmen and
+farms, and sheep and wains, and hay and turnips, do not necessarily
+suggest the highest happiness, and that it is not always dignified for
+an aspiring Poet to be led about helpless through the byeways of sense
+by those wilful, wanton playfellows, his rhymes. The two factions may
+be left to fight out their quarrel over the present example, which,
+by the way, is _not_ taken from the collected edition of the Poet's
+works.
+
+IS LUNCH WORTH LUNCHING?
+
+(_BY A-FR-D A-ST-N._)
+
+  Is Lunch worth lunching? Go, dyspeptic man,
+    Where in the meadows green the oxen munch.
+  Is it not true that since our land began
+    The horned ox hath given us steaks for lunch?
+
+  Steaks rump or otherwise, the prime sirloin,
+    Sauced with the stinging radish of the horse.
+  Beeves meditate and die; we pay our coin,
+    And though the food be often tough and coarse,
+
+  We eat it, we, through whose bold British veins
+    Bold British hearts drive bubbling British blood.
+  No true-born Briton, come what may, disdains
+    To eat the patient chewers of the cud.
+
+  Or seek the uplands, where of old Bo Peep
+    (So runs the tale) lost all her fleecy flocks;
+  There happy shepherds tend their grazing sheep
+    (Some men like mutton, some prefer the ox).
+
+  Ay, surely it would need a heart of flint
+    To watch the blithe lambs caper o'er the lea,
+  And, watching them, refrain from thoughts of mint,
+    Of new potatoes, and the sweet green pea.
+
+  Is Lunch worth lunching? The September sun
+    Makes answer "Yes;" no longer must thou lag.
+  Forth to the stubble, cynic; take thy gun,
+    And add the juicy partridge to thy bag.
+
+  Out in the fields the keen-eyed pigeons coo;
+    They fill their crops, and then away they fly.
+  Pigeons are sometimes passable in stew,
+    And always quite delicious in a pie.
+
+  Or pluck red-currants on some summer day,
+    Then take of raspberries an equal part,
+  Add cream and sugar--can mere words convey
+    The luscious joys of this delightful tart?
+
+  Is Lunch worth lunching? If such cates should fail,
+    Go out of country bread a solid hunch,
+  Pile on it cheese, wash down with country ale,
+    And, faring plainly, yet enjoy thy lunch.
+
+  Yea, this is truth, the lunch of knife and fork,
+    The pic-nic lunch, spread out upon the earth,
+  Lunches of beef, bread, mutton, veal, or pork,
+    All, all, without exception all, are worth!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+NINETY-NINE OUT OF A HUNDRED CANDIDATES MUST BE "PILLED."--The Living
+of "Easington-with-Liverton, Yorkshire, worth L600 per annum," is
+vacant. Is it in the gift of the celebrated Dr. COCKLE? or of Dr.
+CARTER, of Little-Liverpill-Street fame?
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration: "BACK!"]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+PLAYFUL HEIFERVESCENCE AT HAWARDEN.
+
+    [Mr. GLADSTONE met with an extraordinary adventure in Hawarden
+    Park one day last week. A heifer, which had got loose, made
+    for Mr. GLADSTONE as he was crossing the park, and knocked
+    him down. Mr. GLADSTONE took refuge behind a tree. The heifer
+    scampered off, and was subsequently shot.]
+
+[Illustration]
+
+G.O.M. _sings_:--
+
+  How happy could I be with heifer,
+    If sure it were only her play.
+  Is't LABBY? or Labour? Together
+    In one? I'll get out of the way.
+  _Singing_ (_to myself_)--With my tol de rol de rol LABBY, &c.
+
+  She comes! On her horns she is playing
+    A tune with a nourish or two!
+  No cow-herd am I but my staying
+    To play second fiddle won't do.
+  _Singing_ (_to myself_)--With my tol de rol tol-e-rate LABBY, &c.
+
+  Don't chivey her! I would allot her
+    "Three acres," and lots of sweet hay.
+  Alas! while I'm talking, they've shot her!
+    Well! heifers, like dogs, have their day!
+  _Singing_ (_to myself, as before_)--With my tol lol de rol-licking
+          LABBY, &c.
+
+_Latest._--After dinner, Mr. GLADSTONE fell asleep in his chair! He
+was seen to smile, although his repose seemed somewhat disturbed.
+Presently he was heard to murmur melodiously the words of the old
+song, slightly adapted to the most recent event,--"_Heifer of thee
+I'm fondly dreaming_!" Then a shudder ran through his frame as he
+pronounced softly a Latin sentence; it was "_Labor omnia vincit_!"
+Then he awoke.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+SONGS OUT OF SEASON.
+
+NO. II.--KEW-RIOUS!
+
+  It's a pleasure worth the danger,
+    Deems your gorgeous DE LA PLUCHE,
+  To become the main arranger
+    Of a drive in your barouche;
+  And your Coachman, honest JOE too,
+    When approached thereon by JEAMES,
+  Doesn't say exactly "no," to
+    Such inviting little schemes.
+
+  JEAMES has doffed them "'orrid knee-things;"
+    Plush gives way to tweed and socks;
+  And a hamper with the tea-things,
+    Fills his place upon the box;
+  With MARIA, JANE, and HEMMA,
+    He is playing archest games,
+  And they're in the sweet dilemma,
+    Who shall make the most of JAMES.
+
+  Mr. COACHMAN smokes his pipe on
+    His accustomed throne of pride,
+  And, through driving, keeps an eye 'pon
+    All the revellers inside.
+  Mrs. COACHMAN there is seated;
+    Children twain are on her lapped,
+  Who alternately are treated,
+    And alternately are slapped.
+
+  While the painters haunt your mansion,
+    And you're "_H_up" "The _H_alps" or "Rhind,"
+  Your domestics find expansion
+    In diversions of the kind;
+  And on such a day as this is,
+    They will drink the health at Kew,
+  Of "The Master and the Missis,
+    And their bloomin' kerridge too!"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+THE PALLIUM AND ARCHIEPISCOPAL OATH CONTROVERSY IN THE "TIMES."--No
+wonder this is a very dry subject, when they've got such a strong
+THURST-ON among them. Our advice, by way of moistening it, is, "Drop
+it!"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"CLERGY FEES" (_see "Times" Correspondence_).--_Growl of the
+Archiepiscopal Ogre & Co._:--
+
+            "_Fee_, fi, fo, fum!
+      I smell the coin of a Clergyman!
+  Hath he fat glebe, be he ill-fee'd, ill-fed,
+  I'll grab his fees to butter my bread!"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+A NIGHTLY CHEVALIER.
+
+Music-Hall Artists are not by any means "Fixed Stars." During the
+evening they manage to accomplish the somewhat paradoxical-sounding
+feat of shining in the same parts, yet in different places and at
+different times, appearing everywhere with undiminished brilliancy.
+The Student of the Music-Hall Planetary system, has only by
+observation to ascertain the exact time and place of the appearance of
+his favourite bright particular Star, and then to pay his money, take
+his choice between sitting and standing, and like a true astronomer,
+he will--glass in hand, a strong glass too,--await the great event of
+the evening, calmly and contentedly.
+
+If the Wirtuous Westender wandering down the Strand, after having
+on some previous nights exhausted the Pavilion and the elaborately
+gorgeous Variety Shows given at the Empire and Alhambra, seeks for
+awhile a resting-place wherein to enjoy his postprandial cigar, and be
+amused, if such an one will drop into the classic Tivoli, he will find
+excellent entertainment, that is as long as their present programme
+holds the field. The Holborn and the Oxford may delight him on other
+nights, for it seems that much the same Stars shine all around; but
+for the present, taking Tivoli as synonymous with Tibur, he may, with
+Horation humour, say to himself ("himself" being not a bad audience as
+a rule):--
+
+  "Holborn Tibur amem ventosus, Tivoli Holborn,"
+
+and he can then enter the Tivoli, now under the benign rule of that
+old Music Hall Hand, CAROLUS MORTONIUS, M.A., Magister Agens, while
+the experienced Mr. VERNON DOWSETT--"_Experientia Dowsett_"--manages
+the stage. Good as is the entire show, and especially good as is
+the performance of Mr. CHARLES GODFREY as an old Chelsea Pensioner
+recounting to several little Peterkins a touching and heart-stirring
+tale of the Crimean War, yet for me, the Costermonger Songs of
+Mr. ALBERT CHEVALIER are the great attraction. His now well-known
+"_Coster's Serenade_," and his "_Knocked 'em in the Old Kent Road_,"
+are supplemented by a song and dialogue about a Coster's son, a
+precocious little chap, about three years old, and "only that 'igh,
+you know," in whom his father takes so great a pride that it works
+his own temporary reformation. It is so natural as to be just on
+the borderland between farce and pathos, and recalls time past, when
+ROBSON played _The Porter's Knot_, and such-like pieces. Now what more
+do Music Halls want than what Mr. CHEVALIER gives them? This is the
+very essence of a dramatic sketch of character, given in just the
+time it takes to sing the song,--that is, about ten minutes, if as
+much. The compact orchestra, under the directorship of Mr. ASHER,
+discourses excellent accompaniments, and the music of the CHEVALIER's
+songs--composed, I believe, by himself--is not the least among the
+attractions. The CHEVALIER, who, as he takes more than one turn every
+evening, may be termed a Knight Errant, is certainly the Coster's
+Laureate and accepted Representative in the West; the mine, which is
+his own, is inexhaustible. He is a magician in his own peculiar line,
+and may write himself ALBERTUS MAGNUS.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"AL FRESCO," the Lightning Artist, whose full name is "ALFRED FRESCO,"
+writes to suggest that the Alhambra under Mr. JOHN HOLLINGSHEAD's
+management should start a Rotten Row Galop and Kensington Gardens
+Quadrille to follow as in a series the highly successful _Serpentine
+Dance_.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+NOVEL QUARTETTE.--At the next Hereford Festival there will be
+performed a concerted piece by four Short Horns.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration: STARTLING DISCOVERY ON THE YORKSHIRE COAST.
+
+_Young Tripper_ (_on his first visit to the Sea, becoming suddenly
+conscious of the ebbing Tide_). "HI! BILL! JACK! T'WATTER BE A RUNNIN'
+OFF! BY GUM, LADS, BUT AI BET SHE'S BRUSSEN SOMEWHERES!"]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+THE POOR VIOLINIST.--AN EPISODE, IN THE STYLE OF STERNE.
+
+"_Le Luthier de Cremone_," observed EUGENIUS, "is a pathetic story."
+
+"Indeed, EUGENIUS," replied YORICK, "it is extremely touching. I
+protest I never read, or hear it, without emotion."
+
+"The violin," pursued EUGENIUS, "most sensitive, and, as it were,
+soulful of human instruments, lends itself, with particular aptness,
+to the purposes of literary pathos."
+
+"Dear Sensibility!" said I, "source inexhausted of all that is
+precious in our (poetical) joys, or costly in our (dramatic) sorrows!"
+
+"It were well," continued YORICK, drily, "if it were also the source
+inexhausted of more that is quick in our sympathy, and practical in
+our beneficence. It is scarcely in the columns of the daily news-sheet
+that Sensibility usually seeks its much-sought stimulus. And yet but
+lately, in the corner of my paper, I encountered a piteous story that
+'dear Sensibility' (had it been more romantically environed) might
+deliciously have luxuriated in. I protest 'twas as pathetic as
+those of MARIA LE FEVRE, or LA FLEUR. It was headed, "Sad Death of a
+Well-known Violinist."
+
+"Prithee, dear YORICK, let me hear it," cried EUGENIUS.
+
+"'Twas but the prosaic report of a Coroner's Inquest," pursued YORICK.
+"Sensibility would probably have 'skipped' the sordid circumstance.
+'FREDERICK MARTIN, aged seventy-two, a well-known Violinist, and
+Professor of Music, formerly a member of the orchestra of the Italian
+Opera at Her Majesty's and Covent Garden Theatres,' found life too
+hard for him. That is all. 'The deceased, a bachelor.'--Heaven help
+him!--'had of late been afflicted with deafness, which hindered his
+pursuit of his profession, and' (the witness an old friend feared)
+'he was recently in straitened circumstances, but he was too proud and
+independent to ask or accept assistance.' The old friend, Mr. LEWIS
+CHAPUY, Comedian, had 'frequently offered him hospitalities, which
+he never accepted.' Offered him hospitalities! Worthy comedian! In
+faith, EUGENIUS, 'tis delicately worded. True 'Sensibility' here,
+supplemented by practical sympathy. Both, alas! unavailing. Somewhat
+of the doggedly independent spirit of the boot-rejecting Dr. JOHNSON
+in this poor deaf violinist apparently. Verily, EUGENIUS, the story
+requires but the 'decorative art' of the literary sentimentalist
+to make it moving, even to the modish. The ingeniously emotional
+historian of LA FLEUR would have made much of it."
+
+"My gentle heart already bleeds with it," said I. "But the upshot,
+YORICK; the sequel, my friend?"
+
+"'Tis short and simple," responded YORICK. "'The afflicted Violinist'
+occupied a room at 34, Compton Street, Brunswick Square, in which he
+lived alone. He suffered from lumbago, as well as from a proud spirit
+and a broken heart. He had a dread of 'coming to the Workhouse.'
+Spectral fear which haunts ever the sensitive and poverty-stricken!
+Unreasonable? Perhaps. But not the less agonising. What comfort may
+Political Economy and an admirable Poor Law yield to proud-spirited
+victims of poverty?"
+
+"But surely," said I, "the compassion of the stranger would gladly
+have poured oil and wine into the wounds of his spirit--or into poor
+afflicted MARIA's--had he only known."
+
+"Doubtless," said YORICK. "But 'the great Sensorium of the World,'
+as--in 'mere pomp of words'--thou dost designate 'Dear Sensibility,'
+did _not_ 'vibrate' to the case of this 'well-known Violinist'--until
+'twas too late to vibrate to any useful purpose. He was 'found lying
+dead in his bed, fully dressed, with the exception of his hat and
+boots,' mute as the untouched strings of his own violin. 'He had died
+suddenly from syncope, or heart-failure.' Heart-failure, EUGENIUS.
+Doth not thy gentle heart fail at the thought? 'Dr. COLLEY found the
+body in an advanced stage of decomposition, and life had probably been
+extinct since the preceding Thursday night.' Prithee, Sir, is 'MARIA,
+sitting pensive under her poplar, more pathetic than this poor broken
+musician, dying alone, in his poverty and pride?"
+
+"Indeed, no!" I responded, musingly.
+
+"Those," continued YORICK, "who go, like the 'Knight of the Rueful
+Countenance,' in quest of melancholy adventures, need not to make
+deliberately 'Sentimental Journeys' through France, or Italy, or
+by forest or mountain, picturesque hamlet, or romantic stream. The
+purlieus of great cities amongst the poverty-stricken members of
+what it is usual to call the 'lower middle-classes,' will furnish
+multitudinous subjects for pensive thought, and--what were a whole
+world better--for practical benevolence. 'Tis too late, alas! to do
+aught for this dead Violinist, but were eyes and pen more sedulously
+and sympathetically employed about real, if sordid-seeming, in place
+of imaginary, if picturesque, woes, why verily, EUGENIUS, something
+more, perchance, might be done in such pitiful cases as that I
+have described to thee in non-journalistic language, than what was
+formally done by the Coroner's Jury, who--as they were bound to
+do, indeed--'_returned a verdict in accordance with the medical
+testimony_.'"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration: PUNCH'S PIC-NIC. THE PARLIAMENTARY MIRAGE.]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+LETTERS TO ABSTRACTIONS.
+
+NO. XIII.--TO IRRITATION.
+
+I have just come home from my Club in a state bordering upon
+distraction. No great misfortune has happened to me, my dearest
+friend has not been black-balled, the Club bore has not had me in his
+unrelenting clutches. The waiters have been, as indeed they always
+are, civil and obliging, the excellent _chef_ catered with his
+usual skill to my simple mid-day wants, my table companions were
+good-humoured, cheerful, and pleasantly cynical. What then, you may
+ask, has happened to shatter my nerves and impair my temper for the
+day? It is a simple matter, and I am almost ashamed to confess it
+openly. But I am encouraged by the fact that two eminently solid and,
+so far as I could see, perfectly unemotional gentlemen were as deeply
+pricked and worried by what happened as I was myself. To begin with,
+I do not admit that my nerves vibrate more easily than those of my
+fellow-men. I have never killed an organ-grinder, I am guiltless of
+the blood of a German band, I have even gone so far as to spare guards
+who asked for my railway-ticket after I had carefully wrapped myself
+up for a journey, and no touting vendor of subscription books or works
+of art can truthfully say that I have kicked him. On the whole I think
+I am reasonably even-tempered and of higher than average amiability.
+Others may judge me differently. I don't wish to quarrel with them. I
+simply reiterate my opinion. Why then am I to-day in a seething state
+of exception to my rule? Here is the cause:
+
+[Illustration]
+
+After I had done with my luncheon, and had puffed a friendly cigar,
+I proceeded to that room in the Club which is specially dedicated to
+literature and silence. What a feast of multitudinous periodicals is
+there spread out, how brightly the variegated array of books from
+the circulating library attracts the leisurely, how dignified and
+awe-inspiring are the far-stretching ranks of accumulated volumes upon
+the shelves. And the carpet, how soft, and the chairs how comfortably
+easy. Into one of these chairs I sank with a religious novel (I merely
+mention the fact, whether for praise or blame I care not), and began
+to think deeply about various life-problems that have much distressed
+me. Why must men wear themselves out prematurely with labour? Why
+must we suffer? And why, granting the necessity for pain, should I
+occasionally sink under a toothache, while HARRISON, a blatant fellow
+with a red face and a loud voice, continues in a condition of robust
+and oppressive health? These speculations were not so painful and
+disturbing as might be supposed. Indeed, they had a soothing effect.
+From the rhythmical breathing and the closed eyes of two other
+occupants of arm-chairs, I judged that they were similarly occupied
+in philosophic reflection. I was just composing myself to a bout of
+specially hard thinking, when, lo, the door opened, and in stepped Dr.
+FUSSELL!
+
+Everybody, I take it, knows Dr. FUSSELL. He is a member of countless
+learned Societies. Over many of them he presides, to some he acts
+as secretary. He reads papers on abstruse questions connected with
+sanitation, he dashes with a kind of wild war-whoop into impassioned
+newspaper controversies on the component elements of a dust particle,
+or the civilisation of the Syro-Phoenicians. He is acute, dialectical,
+scornful and furious. He denounces those who oppose him as the meanest
+of mankind, he extols his supporters as the most illustrious and
+reasonable of all who have benefited the human race. In the Club he
+is always engaged in some investigation which keeps him continuously
+skipping from bookshelf to bookshelf, climbing up ladders to reach
+the highest shelves, rushing up and down-stairs with sheaves of paper
+bulging in his coat-pockets, or stowed under his arms. He lays his
+top-hat on the table, and makes it a receptacle for reams of notes and
+volumes of projected essays. In a word, he is a human storm.
+
+Well, in he came with his grey hair streaming over his forehead, and
+his eyes aflame. I knew in a moment that repose in his presence was
+out of the question, though I still sat on, hoping against hope.
+First, the Doctor bounded to the fire-place, seized the poker, and
+began to rummage the fire. It was a good fire, and had done nothing
+to deserve this punishment. I shifted on my seat; the two other
+philosophers opened their eyes and frowned, and still Dr. FUSSELL
+continued to rummage. Now I knew, not only that that fire was being
+poked on an entirely wrong principle, but that I alone knew how it
+ought to be poked. My fingers itched, my whole body tingled with
+excitement. At last Dr. FUSSELL ceased. In a moment I was out of my
+seat and making a bee-line for the poker. I just managed to beat the
+other two by a short head, seized the poker, and relieved my soul
+by stirring the fire on strictly scientific principles. The others
+watched me hungrily. When I had finished, each of them took a short
+turn with the poker, and then we all returned, more or less appeased,
+to our seats.
+
+But we had not done with the ineffable FUSSELL. By this time he was on
+the top of a step-ladder. Slowly he selected six tomes, and began his
+perilous descent. Our eyes were riveted upon him. Crash, bang! His
+arms were empty, and the unconscionable books fluttered and clattered
+to the floor. Slowly and ruefully did FUSSELL descend into the cloud
+of dust and gather his bruised treasures from the carpet. At last he
+heaped them on his table, and began to write. We hoped for peace,
+but it was not to be. A sudden thought struck him. He would sew his
+scattered leaves of MS. together. With dreadful deliberation he took
+needle and cotton from a little pocket housewife that he carried with
+him; and then began one of the most maddening performances I have
+ever watched. Carefully he held the needle to the light, carefully he
+wetted and trimmed his cotton to a point. And for ten stricken minutes
+we saw him miss the eye of the needle, sometimes by an inch, sometimes
+by a hair's breadth. It was a thrilling contest between obstinacy and
+evasiveness. I was fascinated by it. Every time, as the cotton neared
+the eye, my heart slowly ascended into my mouth, only to drop with a
+fatal swiftness into my boots as the triumphant needle scored another
+victory. I began to imitate FUSSELL's every movement. I threaded
+invisible needles by the gross with imperceptible cotton. I felt in
+my own breast all the ardour of the chase, all the bitter sorrow of
+repeated failures. My two companions in misfortune were similarly
+affected, and there we sat, three sane and ordinary men, feverishly
+going through all these itching movements with FUSSELL as our
+detested, but unconscious fugleman. The strain became too great. I
+sprang from my chair, "Sir," I said to the astonished FUSSELL, "permit
+me; I learnt the art of threading needles as a boy from an East End
+seamstress," and before he had time to protest, I had seized the
+offending instruments, and by a stroke of inspiration had passed the
+cotton through. Then without waiting to hear what FUSSELL might have
+to say, I fled from the room. And here consequently I sit with my
+nerves shattered, and an untasted crumpet cooling on the tea-tray.
+
+Am I singular? I think not. There are others whose mannerisms plague
+me too. For instance, TRUBERRY, whom I meet occasionally, has a wild
+and venomous habit of relating to me his infinitesimal jokelets. That
+I could pardon. But when, having related one, he bursts, as he always
+does, into a helpless suffocation of purple laughter, the savage
+within me awakes and I murder TRUBERRY in fancy to an accompaniment
+of refined and protracted tortures. Once, as I helped him on with his
+overcoat, he joked and exploded. My fingers were horribly near his
+throat. But I mastered the impulse, and TRUBERRY will never know how
+near he was to destruction. And to make matters worse, he is one
+of the kindest and most considerately helpful of human beings. Oh,
+IRRITATION, IRRITATION, you have much to answer for. The fly in the
+ointment of the apothecary was a baby to you. Avaunt, avaunt!
+
+DIOGENES ROBINSON.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+THE VERY LATEST.--Mrs. RAM had a paragraph read to her from the
+_D.T.'s_ "London Day by Day," recounting how the Archbishop of
+CANTERBURY when staying at Haddo House, had attended service in the
+parish Kirk, which conduct might have provoked High Churchmen to
+assail him for "bowing the knee in the House of Rimmon." Thinking
+it over afterwards, when she had muddled up the name in her usual
+fashion, our old friend Mrs. R. observed, with some humour, that she
+thought "the Archbishop had shown his good scents by going to the
+House of RIMMEL."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+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.
+103, September 10, 1892, by Various
+
+*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PUNCH ***
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