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diff --git a/15196.txt b/15196.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..342db76 --- /dev/null +++ b/15196.txt @@ -0,0 +1,1523 @@ +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 *** + +***** This file should be named 15196.txt or 15196.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/1/5/1/9/15196/ + +Produced by Malcolm Farmer, William Flis, and the PG Online +Distributed Proofreading Team. + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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