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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/15442-8.txt b/15442-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..95f4c4a --- /dev/null +++ b/15442-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,1657 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Punch, or The London Charivari, Volume 101, +October 31, 1891, by Various + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Punch, or The London Charivari, Volume 101, October 31, 1891 + +Author: Various + +Editor: Francis Burnand + + +Release Date: March 23, 2005 [EBook #15442] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PUNCH *** + + + + +Produced by Malcolm Farmer, William Flis, and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team. + + + + + +PUNCH, + +OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. + +VOL. 101. + + + +October 31, 1891. + + + + +YOUNG GRANDOLPH'S BARTY. + +(_Afrikander Version of the great Breitmann Ballad, penned, "more +in sorrow than in anger," by a "Deutscher" resident in the distant +regions where the Correspondent of the "Daily Graphic" is, like der +Herr Breitmann himself, "drafellin' apout like eferydings._") + +[Illustration: (Y)] + + Young GRANDOLPH hat a Barty-- + Vhere is dat Barty now? + He fell'd in luf mit der African goldt; + Mit SOLLY he'd hat a row; + He dinks dat his secession + Would make der resht look plue, + But, before he drafel vast and var, + His Barty sphlit in two. + + Young GRANDOLPH hat a Barty-- + Dere vash B-LF-R, W-LFF, and G-RST, + Dey haf vorgot deir "Leater," + Und dat ish not deir vorst. + B-LF-R vill "boss" der Commons, + Vhile GRANDOLPH--sore disgraced-- + Ish "oop a tree," like der Bumble Bee, + Und W-LFF and G-RST are "placed." + + Young GRANDOLPH hat a Barty-- + Vhen he dat Barty led, + B-LF-R vash but a "Bummer," + A loafing lollop-head. + Young Tories schvore by GRANDOLPH, + (Dey schvear _at_ GRANDOLPH now,) + Now at de feet of der "lank æsthete" + Der _Times_ itshelf doth bow! + + Young GRANDOLPH hat a Barty, + Dere all vash "Souse und Brouse."[1] + Now he hets not dat prave gompany + All in der Commons House, + To see _him_ skywgle GL-DST-NE, + Und schlog him on der kop. + Young Tory bloods no longer shout + Till der SCHPEAKER bids dem shtop. + + Und, like dat Rhine Mermaiden + "Vot hadn't got nodings on," + Dey "don't dink mooch of beoplesh + Vat goes mit demselfs alone!" + + Young GRANDOLPH _hat_ a Barty-- + Where ish dat Barty now? + Where ish dat oder ARTHUR's song + Vot darkened der Champerlain's prow? + Where ish de himmelstrahlende stern, + De shtar of der Tory fight? + All gon'd afay, as on Woodcock's wing, + Afay in de ewigkeit! + + Young GRANDOLPH hat a Barty; + He hunt der lions now, + All in der lone Mashonaland, + But he does not "score"--somehow. + One Grand Old Lion he dared to peard, + Und he "potted" Earls and Dukes, + But eight or nine real lions at once, + He thinks are "_trop de luxe_" + + Young GRANDOLPH hat a Barty, + But he scooted 'cross der sea, + Und he tidn't say to dem, "Come, my poys, + Und drafel along mit me!" + +[Footnote 1: _Saus und Braus_--Ger., Riot and Bustle.] + + * * * * * + + +"CORRECT CARD, GENTS!"--"Wanted a Map of London" was the heading of +a letter in the _Times_ last Thursday. No, Sir! that's not what is +wanted. There are hundreds of 'em, specially seductive pocket ones, +with just the very streets that one wants to discover as short cuts +to great centres carefully omitted. What _is_ wanted is a _correct_ +map of London, divided into pocketable sections, portable, foldable, +durable, on canvas,--but if imperfect, as so many of these small +pocket catch-shilling ones are just now, although professedly +brought up to date '91, they are worse than useless, and to purchase +one is a waste of time, temper and money. We could mention an +attractive-looking little map--which, but no-- Publishers and public +are hereby cautioned! N.B.--Test well your pocket map through a +magnifying glass before buying. _Experto crede!_ + + * * * * * + +OYSTERLESS. + +(_BY AN IMPECUNIOUS GOURMET_.) + + [Oysters are very dear, and are likely, as the season + advances, to be still higher in price.] + +[Illustration] + + Oh, Oyster mine! Oh, Oyster mine! + You're still as exquisitely nice; + With perfect pearly tints you shine, + But you are such an awful price. + The lemon and the fresh cayenne, + Brown bread and butter and the stout + Are here, and just the same, but then + What if I have to leave you out? + + What wonder that my spirits droop, + That life can bring me no delight, + When I must give up oyster soup, + So softly delicately white. + The curry powder stands anear, + The scallop shells, but what care I-- + You're so abominably dear, + O Oyster! that I cannot buy. + + With sad imaginative flights, + I think upon the days of yore; + Like TICKLER, on Ambrosian nights, + I have consumed them by the score. + And still, whenever you appeared, + My pride it was to use you well; + I let the juice play round your beard, + And always on the hollow shell. + + I placed you in the fair lark-pie. + With steak and kidneys too, of course; + Your ancestors were glad to die, + So well I made the oyster sauce. + I had you stewed and featly fried, + And dipped in batter--think of that; + And, as a pleasant change, I've tried + You, skewered in rows, with bacon-fat. + + "Where art thou, ALICE?" cried the bard. + "Where art thou, Oyster?" I exclaim. + It really is extremely hard, + To know thee nothing but a name. + For this is surely torment worse + Than DANTE heaped upon his dead;-- + To find thee quite beyond my purse, + And so go oysterless to bed. + + * * * * * + +_À PROPOS_ OF THE SECRETARY FOR WAR'S ROSEATE AFTER--DINNER +SPEECH (_on the entirely satisfactory state of the Army +generally_).--(STAN-)"HOPE told a flattering tale." + + * * * * * + +UNIVERSITY MEM.--The Dean of Christ Church will keep his seat till +Christmas, and just a LIDDELL longer. + + * * * * * + +THE RAVEN. + +(_Very Latest War-Office Version. See Mr. Stanhope's After-Dinner +Speech at the Holborn Restaurant (Oct. 17), and Letter in "Times" +(Oct. 21) on "Pangloss at the War Office."_) + +[Illustration] + +_Secretarial Pangloss sings:_-- + + Late, upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, tired but cheery, + Over many an optimistic record of War Office lore; + Whilst I worked, assorting, mapping, suddenly there came a tapping, + As of someone rudely rapping, rapping at my Office-door. + "Some late messenger," I muttered, "tapping at my Office-door-- + Only this, but it's a bore." + + I remember--being sober--it was in the chill October, + Light from the electric globe or horseshoe lighted wall and floor; + Also that it was the morrow of the Holborn Banquet; sorrow + From the Blue Books croakers borrow--sorrow for the days of yore, + For the days when "_Rule Britannia_" sounded far o'er sea and shore. + Ah! it _must_ have been a bore! + + But on that let's draw the curtain. I am simply cock-sure--certain + That "our splendid little Army" never was so fine before. + It will take a lot of beating! Such remarks I keep repeating; + They come handy--after eating, and are always sure to score-- + Dash that rapping chap entreating entrance at my Office-door! + It is an infernal bore! + + Presently I grew more placid (Optimists should not be acid.) + "Come in!" I exclaimed--"con_found_ you! Pray stand drumming there + no more." + But the donkey still kept tapping. "Dolt!" I muttered, sharply + snapping, + "Why the deuce do you come rapping, rapping at my Office-door? + Yet not 'enter' when you're told to?"--here I opened wide the door-- + Darkness there, and nothing more. + + Open next I flung the shutter, when, with a prodigious flutter, + In there stepped a bumptious Raven, black as any blackamoor. + Not the least obeisance made he, not a moment stopped or stayed he, + But with scornful look, though shady, perched above my Office-door, + Perched upon BRITANNIA's bust that stood above my Office-door-- + Perched, and sat, and seemed to snore. + + "Well," I said, sardonic smiling, "this is really rather riling; + "It comports not with decorum such as the War Office bore + In old days stiff and clean-shaven. Dub me a Gladstonian craven + If I ever saw a Raven at the W.O. before. + Tell me what your blessed name is. '_Rule Britannia_' held of yore," + Quoth the bird, "'Tis so no more!" + + Much I marvelled this sophistic fowl to utter pessimistic + Fustian, which so little meaning--little relevancy bore + To the rule of me and SOLLY; but, although it may sound folly, + This strange fowl a strange resemblance to "Our Only General" wore, + To the W-LS-L-Y whose pretensions to sound military lore + Are becoming quite a bore. + + But the Raven, sitting lonely on that much-peeled bust, spake only + Of our Army as a makeshift, small, ill-manned, and precious poor. + Drat the pessimistic bird!--he grumbled of "the hurdy-gurdy + Marching-past side of a soldier's life in peace." "We've fought + before, + Winning battles with boy-troops," I cried, "We'll do as we before--" + Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore!" + + "Nonsense!" said I. "After dinner at the Holborn, as a winner + Spake I in the _Pangloss_ spirit to the taxpayers, (_Don't_ snore!) + Told them our recruits--who'll master e'en unmerciful disaster, + Come in fast and come in faster, quite as good as those of yore,"-- + "Flattering tales of (Stan) Hope!" cried the bird, whose dismal + dirges bore, + One dark burden--"Nevermore!" + + "Hang it, Raven, this _is_ riling!" cried I. "Stop your rude + reviling!" + Then I wheeled my office-chair in front of bird and bust and door; + And upon its cushion sinking, "I," I said, "will smash like winking + This impeachment you are bringing, O you ominous bird of yore, + O you grim, ungainly, ghastly, grumbling, gruesome feathered bore!" + Croaked the Raven, "You I'll floor." + + Then methought the bird looked denser, and his cheek became + immenser. + And he twaddled of VON MOLTKE, and his German Army Corps; + "Flattering the tax-payers' vanity," and much similar insanity, + In a style that lacked urbanity, till the thing became a bore. + "Oh, get out of it!" I cried; "our little Army yet will score." + Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore!" + + "Prophet!" said I, "of all evil, that we're 'going to the devil' + Has been the old croaker's gospel for a century, and more. + Red-gilled Colonels this have chaunted in BRITTANIA's ears + undaunted, + By their ghosts you must he haunted. Take a Blue-pill, I implore! + When our Army meets the foe it's bound to lick him as of yore!" + Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore! + + "Prophet!" said I, "that's uncivil. You may go to--well, the devil! + That Establishments are 'short,' and 'standards' lowered o'er and + o'er. + That mere 'weeds,' with chests of maiden, cannot march with + knapsack laden; + That the heat of sultry Aden, or the cold of Labrador, + Such can't stand, _may_ be the truth; but keep it dark, bird, I + implore!" + Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore!" + + "Then excuse me, we'll be parting, doleful fowl," I cried, + upstarting; + "Get thee back to--the Red River, or the Nile's sand-cumbered shore! + Leave no 'Magazine' as token of the twaddle you have spoken. + What? BRITANNIA stoney-broken? Quit her bust above my door. + Take thy hook from the War Office; take thy beak from off my door!" + Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore!" + + And the Raven still is sitting, croaking statements most unfitting, + On BRITANNIA's much-peeled bust that's placed above my Office-door, + And if _Pangloss_, e'en in seeming, lent an ear to his dark + dreaming, + Useless were official scheming, grants of millions by the score, + For my soul were like the shadow that he casts upon the floor, + Dark and dismal evermore! + + * * * * * + +[Illustration: THINGS ONE WOULD RATHER HAVE EXPRESSED DIFFERENTLY. + +_Aunt Jane_. "THAT MAKES THREE WEDDINGS IN OUR FAMILY WITHIN A +TWELVEMONTH! IT WILL BE _YOUR_ TURN NEXT, MATILDA!" + +_Matilda_. "OH, NO!" + +_Aunt Jane_. "WELL, THE MOST EXTRAORDINARY THINGS HAPPEN SOMETIMES, +YOU KNOW!"] + + * * * * * + +TUPPER'S PROVERBIAL PHILOSOPHY UP TO DATE. + + ["The range of our inquiry was intended to include the whole + migratory range for seals.... Our movements were kept most + secret."--_Sir George Baden-Powell on the Work of the Behring + Sea Commission_.] + + We came, we saw, we--held our tongues (myself--BADEN-POWELL--and + Mr. DAWSON.) + We popped on each seal-island "unbeknownst," and what we + discovered we held our jaws on. + We'd five hundred interviews within three months, which I think + "cuts the record" in interviewing, + Corresponded with 'Frisco, Japan, and Russia; so I hope you'll + allow we've been "up and doing." + (Not up and _saying_, be't well understood). As TUPPER (the + Honourable C.H., Minister + Of Fisheries) said, in the style of his namesake, "The fool + imagines all Silence is sinister, + "But the wise man knows that it's often dexterous." Be sure no + inquisitive shyness or bounce'll + Make us "too previous" with our Report, which goes first to the + QUEEN and the Privy Council. + Some bigwig's motto is, "Say and Seal," but as TUPPER remarked a + forefinger laying + To the dexter side of a fine proboscis, "Our motto at present is, + Seal _without_ saying!" + + * * * * * + +LEGAL QUERY.--The oldest of the thirteen Judges on the Scotch Bench is +YOUNG. Any chance for a Junior after this? + + * * * * * + +THE TRAVELLING COMPANIONS. + +NO. XII. + + SCENE--_In front of the Hôtel Bodenhaus at Splügen. The + Diligence for Bellinzona is having its team attached. An + elderly Englishwoman is sitting on her trunk, trying to run + through the last hundred pages of a novel from the Hotel + Library before her departure. PODBURY is in the Hotel, + negotiating for sandwiches. CULCHARD is practising his + Italian upon a very dingy gentleman in smoked spectacles, with + a shawl round his throat._ + +_The Dingy Italian_ (_suddenly discovering CULCHARD's nationality_). +Ecco, siete Inglese! Lat us spika Ingelis, I onnerstan' 'im to ze +bottom-side. (_Laboriously, to CULCHARD, who tries to conceal his +chagrin._) 'Ow menni time you employ to go since Coire at here? (C. +_nods with vague encouragement_.) Vich manners of vezzer you vere +possess troo your travels--mosh ommerella? (C.'s _eyes grow vacant_.) +Ha, I _tink_ it vood! Zis day ze vicket root sall 'ave plenti 'orse +to pull, &c., &c. (_Here PODBURY comes up, and puts some rugs the_ +coupé _of the diligence._) You sit at ze beginning-end, hey? better, +you tink, zan ze mizzle? I too, zen, sall ride at ze front--we vill +spika Ingelis, altro! + +_Podb._ (_overhearing this, with horror_). One minute, CULCHARD. (_He +draws him aside._) I say, for goodness' sake, don't let's have that +old organ-grinding Johnny in the _coupé_ with _us_! + +_Culch._ Organ-grinder! you are so _very_ insular! For anything you +can tell, he may be a decayed nobleman. + +_Pod._ (_coarsely_). Well, let him decay somewhere else, that's all! +Just tell the Conductor to shove him in the _intérieur_, do, while I +nip in the _coupé_ and keep our places. + +[Illustration: "An elderly Englishwoman is sitting on her trunk."] + + [_CULCHARD, on reflection, adopts this suggestion, and the + Italian Gentleman, after fluttering feebly about the_ coupé + _door, is unceremoniously bundled by the Conductor into the + hinder part of the diligence._ + +_IN THE BERNARDINO PASS, DURING THE ASCENT._ + +_Culch._ Glorious view one gets at each fresh turn of the road, +PODBURY! Look at Hinter-rhein, far down below there, like a toy +village, and that vast desolate valley, with the grey river rushing +through it, and the green glacier at the end, and these awful +snow-covered peaks all round--_look_, man! + +_Podb._ I'm looking, old chap. It's all there, right enough! + +_Culch._ (_vexed_). It doesn't seem to be making any particular +impression on you, I must say! + +_Podb._ It's making me deuced peckish, I know that--how about lunch, +eh! + +_Culch._ (_pained_). We are going through scenery like this, and all +you think of is--lunch! (_PODBURY opens a basket._) You may give me +one of those sandwiches. What made you get _veal_? and the bread's +all crust, too! Thanks, I'll take some claret.... (_They lunch; the +vehicle meanwhile toils up to the head of the Pass._) Dear me, we're +at the top already! These rocks shut out the valley altogether--much +colder at this height, eh? Don't you find this keen air most +exhilarating? + +_Podb._ (_shivering_). Oh very, do you mind putting your window up? +Thanks. You seem uncommon chirpy to-day. Beginning to get _over_ it, +eh? + +_Culch._ We shan't get over it for some hours yet. + +_Podb._ I didn't mean the Pass, I meant--(_hesitating_)--well, your +little affair with Miss PRENDERGAST, you know. + +_Culch._ My little affair? Get over? (_He suddenly understands._) Oh, +ah, to be sure. Yes, thank you, my dear fellow, it is not making me +_particularly_ unhappy. [_He goes into a fit of silent laughter._ + +_Podb._ Glad to hear it. (_To himself_.) 'Jove, if he only knew what +_I_ know! [_He chuckles._ + +_Culch._ You don't appear to be exactly heartbroken? + +_Podb._ I? why _should_ I be--about _what_? + +_Culch._ (_with an affectation of reserve_). Exactly, I was +forgetting. (_To himself_.) It's really rather humorous. (_He laughs +again._) Ha, we're beginning to go down now. Hey for Italy--la bella +Italia! (_The diligence takes the first curve._) Good Heavens, what a +turn! We're going at rather a sharp pace for downhill, eh? I suppose +these Swiss drivers know what they're about, though. + +_Podb._ Oh, yes, generally--when they're not drunk. I can only see +this fellow's boots--but they look to me a trifle squiffy. + +_Culch._ (_inspecting them, anxiously_). He does seem to drive +very recklessly. _Look_ at those leaders--heading right for the +precipice.... Ah, just saved it! How we do lurch in swinging round! + +_Podb._ Topheavy--I expect, too much luggage on board--have another +sandwich? + +_Culch._ Not for me, thanks. I say, I wonder if it's safe, having no +parapet, only these stone posts, eh? + +_Pod._ Safe enough--unless the wheel catches one--it was as near as a +toucher just then--aren't you going to smoke? No? _I_ am. By the way, +what were you so amused about just now, eh? + +_Culch._ _Was_ I amused? (_The vehicle gives another tremendous +lurch._) Really, this is _too_ horrible! + +_Podb._ (_with secret enjoyment_). We're right enough, if the horses +don't happen to stumble. That off-leader isn't over sure-footed--did +you see _that_? (_Culch. shudders._) But what's the joke about Miss +PRENDERGAST? + +_Culch._ (_irritably_). Oh, for Heaven's sake, don't bother about that +_now_. I've something else to think about. My goodness, we were nearly +over that time! What are you looking at? + +_Podb._ (_who has been leaning forward_). Only one of the +traces--they've done it up with a penny ball of string, but I daresay +it will stand the strain. You aren't _half_ enjoying the view, old +fellow. + +_Culch._ Yes, I am. Magnificent!--glorious!--isn't it? + +_Podb._ Find you see it better with your eyes shut? But I say, I wish +you'd explain what you were sniggering at. + +_Culch._ Take my advice, and don't press me, my dear fellow; you may +regret it if you do! + +_Podb._ I'll risk it. It must be a devilish funny joke to tickle you +like that. Come, out with it! + +_Culch._ Well, if you must know, I was laughing.... Oh, he'll _never_ +get those horses round in.... I was--er--rather amused by your evident +assumption that I must have been _rejected_ by Miss PRENDERGAST. + +_Podb._ Oh, was _that_ it? And you're nothing of the kind, eh? [_He +chuckles again._ + +_Culch._ (_with dignity_). No doubt you will find it very singular; +but, as a matter of fact, she--well, she most certainly did not +_discourage_ my pretensions. + +_Podb._ The deuce she didn't! Did she tell you RUSKIN's ideas about +courtship being a probation, and ask you if you were ready to be under +vow for her, by any chance? + +_Culch._ This is too bad, PODBURY; you must have been there, or you +couldn't possibly know! + +_Podb._ Much obliged, I'm sure. I don't listen behind doors, as a +general thing. I suppose, now, she set you a trial of some kind, to +prove your mettle, eh? [_With another chuckle._ + +_Culch._ (_furiously_). Take care--or I may tell you more than you +bargain for! + +_Podb._ Go on--never mind _me_. Bless you, _I'm_ under vow for her, +too, my dear boy. Fact! + +_Culch._ That's impossible, and I can prove it. The service she +demanded was, that I should leave Constance at once--with you. Do you +understand--with _you_, PODBURY! + +_Podb._ (_with a prolonged whistle_). My aunt! + +_Culch._ (_severely_). You may invoke every female relative you +possess in the world, but it won't alter the fact, and that alone +ought to convince you-- + +_Podb._ Hold on a bit. Wait till you've heard _my_ penance. She told +me to cart _you_ off, _Now_, then! + +_Culch._ (_faintly_). If I thought she'd been trifling with us both +like that, I'd never-- + +_Podb._ She's no end of a clever girl, you know. And, after all, she +may only have wanted time to make up her mind. + +_Culch._ (_violently_). I tell you _what_ she is--she's a cold-blooded +pedantic prig, and a systematic flirt! I loathe and detest a prig, but +a flirt I despise--yes, _despise_, PODBURY! + +_Podb._ (_with only apparent irrelevance_). The same to you, and many +of 'em, old chap! Hullo, we're going to stop at this inn. Let's get +out and stretch our legs and have some coffee. + + [_They do; on returning, they find the Italian Gentleman + smiling blandly at them from inside the_ coupé. + +_The It. G._ Goodaby, dear frens, a riverderla! I success at your +chairs. I vish you a pleasure's delay! + +_Podb._ But I say, look here, Sir, we're going on, and you've got our +place! + +_The It. G._ Sank you verri moch. I 'ope so. [_He blows_ PODBURY _a +kiss._ + +_Podb._ (_with intense disgust_). How on earth are we going to get +that beggar out? Set the Conductor at him, CULCHARD, do--you can talk +the lingo best! + +_Culch._ (_who has had enough of_ PODBURY _for the present_). Talk to +him yourself, my dear fellow, _I_'m not going to make a row. [_He gets +in._ + +_Podb._ (_to Conductor_). Hi! sprechen sie Französisch, oder was? +_il-y-a quelque chose dans mon siège, dites-lui de_--what the deuce is +the French for "clear out"? + +_Cond._ _Montez, Monsieur, nous bartons, montez vîte alors!_ + + [_He thrusts PODBURY, protesting vainly, into the intérieur, + with two peasants, a priest and the elderly Englishwoman. The + diligence starts again._ + + * * * * * + +AT THE ITALIAN OPERA. + +[Illustration: Two (Covent Garden) Gentlemen of Verona!!] + +[Illustration: Exit Romeo by the Rope Ladder,--a shrewd guess at what +really happens.] + +_Tuesday, October 20th_.--Opening night. _Roméo et Juliette; débuts_ +of Mlle. SIMMONET, of the Opera Comique, and M. COSSIRA, as the +lovers. _Lady Capulet's_ Small Dance, quite the smartest of the +season, as the Veronese nobility present were evidently remarking, +with abundance of easy gesture, to one another, as they led the way to +the lemonade. The _Juliette_ of the evening charming, and soon singing +herself into the good graces of a large audience; ditto, M. COSSIRA, +"than which," as the Prophet NICHOLAS would say, "a more competent +_Roméo_--though perhaps a trifle full in the waist for balcony-scaling +by moonlight." If he had really trusted himself to that gossamer +ladder in the Fourth Act, he would never have got away to Mantua, +especially as _Juliette_, with the thoughtlessness of her age and sex, +omitted to secure it in any way. Fortunately it was not a long drop, +and the descent was accomplished without accident, as will be seen +from the accompanying sketch. + + * * * * * + +CHANGE FOR A TENOR.--Mr. SEYMOUR HADEN, the opponent of the Cremation +gospel according to THOMPSON (Sir HENRY of that ilk), should come to +an arrangement with the English Light Opera tenor, and tack COFFIN on +to his name. + + * * * * * + +ONLY FANCY! + +(_FROM MR. PUNCH'S OWN RUMOURISTS._) + +It may be interesting at this time of the year to mention the fact +that Lord SALISBURY always uses a poker in cracking walnuts. He says +it saves the silver. The other day, whilst wielding the poker across +the walnuts and the wine, Mr. GLADSTONE chanced to look in. The +Premier, with his well-known hospitality, immediately furnished +the Right Hon. Gentleman with another poker (brought in from the +drawing-room), and ordered up a fresh supply of nuts. + + * * * * * + +[Illustration] + +Mr. GLADSTONE, recurring in private conversation to a recent visit +paid by him to Lord SALISBURY in Arlington Street, questioned the +convenience of a poker as an instrument for shattering the shell of +the walnut. For himself, he says, he has always found a pair of tongs +more convenient. + + * * * * * + +The Marquis of HARTINGTON, to whom this remark was reported, +observed that as a dissentient Liberal he naturally differed from Mr. +GLADSTONE, and was not to the fullest extent able to agree with his +noble friend, the Marquis of SALISBURY. For his own part, he found +the most convenient way of cracking a walnut was deftly to place the +article in the interstice of the dining-room door, and gently close +it. He found this plan combined with its original purpose a gentle +exercise on the part of the guests highly conducive to digestion. + + * * * * * + +Two hours later, the Leader of the Opposition was seen walking up +Arlington Street, and on reaching Piccadilly, he hailed an omnibus, +observing the precaution before entering of requiring the conductor to +produce the scale of charges. "No pirate busses for _me_," the Right +Hon. Member remarked, as (omitting the oath) he took his seat. + + * * * * * + +It is no secret in official circles that before the vacancy in the +office of Postmaster-General was filled, it was placed at the disposal +of the BARON BE BOOK-WORMS. Upon Sir JAMES FERGUSSON stepping in, the +PRIME MINISTER was urgently desirous to have the collaboration of +the noble BARON at the Foreign Office. But, somehow, the post of +Under-Secretary vacated by Sir JAMES was assigned to Mr. WILLIAM JAMES +LOWTHER. + + * * * * * + +We are authorised to state that His Imperial Majesty the Emperor of +GERMANY, feeling the need of a little change, has resolved to stay at +home for a fortnight. + + * * * * * + +We are in a position to state that just prior to the General Election +of 1880, Mr. CHAMBERLAIN was observed standing before a cheval glass, +alternatively fixing his eyeglass in the right eye and in the left. +Asked why he should thus quaintly occupy his leisure moments, he +replied: "It is in view of the General Election. If on the platform +any person in the crowd poses you with an awkward question, should you +be able rapidly to transfer your eyeglass from your right eye to your +left, and fix the obtruder with a stony stare, he is so much engaged +in wondering whether you can keep the glass in position, that he +forgets what he asked you, and you can pass on to less dangerous +topics." + + * * * * * + +When Mr. SCHOMBERG McDONNELL informed his chief that Lord RANDOLPH +CHURCHILL had "come upon eight lions," Lord SALISBURY sighed and +remained for a moment in deep thought. Then he said, "How different +had the eight lions come upon him!" + + * * * * * + +Mr. GLADSTONE has backed himself to walk a mile, talk a mile, write a +mile, review a mile, disestablish a mile, chop a mile and hop a mile +in one hour. Sporting circles are much interested in the veteran +statesman's undertaking, and little else is talked about at the chief +West End resorts. The general opinion of those who ought to know seems +to be in favour of the scythe-bearer, but not a few have invested a +pound or two on the Mid-Lothian Marvel. + + * * * * * + +[Illustration: TRUE LITERARY EXCLUSIVENESS. + +"_WHAT_, MY DEAR REGINALD! YOU DON'T MEAN TO SAY YOU DON'T ADMIRE +BYRON AS A POET?" + +"CERTAINLY NOT. INDEED I HAVE A QUITE SPECIAL LOATHING AND CONTEMPT +FOR HIM IN THAT PARTICULAR CHARACTAH!" + +"DEAR ME! WHY, WHAT PARTICULAR POEMS OF HIS DO YOU OBJECT TO SO +STRONGLY?" + +"MY DEAH GRANDMOTHAH, I NEVAH READ A LINE OF BYRON IN MY LIFE,--AND I +CERTAINLY NEVAH MEAN TO!"] + + * * * * * + +TRYING IT ON. + + ["The natural result of a _rapprochement_ between Russia and + Italy, even if avowedly platonic in its character, would be + to weaken the prestige and moral force of the Triple + Alliance."--_The Times_.] + +_Mr. Bruin loquitur_:-- + + _Pst!_ Hang it, quite _au mieux!_ Now what am I to do? + I must draw her attention, if I'm going to have a chance. + She seems so satisfied with those gallants at her side + That just now in my direction she will hardly deign a glance. + _Pst!_ Darling, just a word! + No! Deaf as any post! It is perfectly absurd! + + _Pst!_ Heeds me not the least, just as though I were the Beast, + And she the sovereign Beauty that she deems she is, no doubt. + Since she won those burly _beaux_, it appears to be no go, + But Bruin's an old Masher, and he knows what he's about. + _Pst!_ Darling, look this way! + In your pretty little ear I've a word or two to say! + + The coy Gallic girl I've won. It is really awful fun, + For _her_ prejudice was strong as was that of Lady ANNE + To the ugly crookback, DICK. But my wooing there was quick. + Platonic? Oh! of course. That is always Bruin's plan. + A flirtation means no harm, + When you wish not to corrupt or betray, but simply charm. + + Fancy Italian girl won by the swagger twirl + Of an Austrian moustache! It is monstrous, nothing less. + What _would_ GARIBALDI say? Well, he doesn't live to-day, + Or he'd tear her from the arm of her ancient foe, I guess. + And that stalwart Teuton too! + Do you really think, my girl, he can really care for _you_? + + Ah! you always were a flirt, Miss ITALIA. You have hurt + France's feelings very much. Why, she stood your faithful friend + When the hated Austrian yoke bowed your neck. Did you invoke + The pompous Prussian then your captivity to end? + _Pst!_ Just a moment, dear. + I've a word or two to say it were worth your while to hear. + + Ah! A hasty glance she throws o'er her shoulder. But for those + Big, blonde, burly bullies twain, I could win her, I am sure; + For my manners all girls praise, and I have such winning ways, + And my lips, for kisses made, are for love a lasting lure. + _Pst!_ How those two stride on, + Without a glance at me! Do they think the game is won? + + Hrumph! The Bear, although polite, is as pertinacious, quite, + As the tactless Teuton pig. I'll yet spoil their little game. + Triple Alliance? Fudge! If that girl is a good judge, + She will make a third with Me and my latest Gallic "flame." + _Pst!_ Come along with me, + My dark Italian _belle_! We shall make a lovely Three! + +[_Left making signs._ + + * * * * * + +ACCI-DENTAL QUERY.--Let me ask the _Patres Conscripti_ of our Academy +Royal, why Dentists are not admitted A.R.A. _ex officio_. We have all +for ever so long, since the memory of the oldest JOE MILLER, which +runneth not to the contrary, known that Dentists drew teeth. But they +nowadays add to their accomplishments by painting gums. The other day +a friend of ours had a gum beautifully painted by a Dentist-artist +in a certain Welbeck Street studio. It was a wonderful gathering; our +friend in the chair. + + * * * * * + +THE OLD JOE AND THE NEW. + + To the humorous mind of a cynical cast, + Party change many matters for mirth affords; + But of all the big jokes, we've the biggest at last, + In CHAMBERLAIN's backing the House of Lords! + They toil not, nor spin? That's a very old jeer! + _Won't_ the Lilies take back seats when JOE is a Peer? + + * * * * * + +[Illustration: TRYING IT ON! + +RUSSIA. "SS--S--T! (_Whispers._) I WANT TO SPEAK TO YOU, MY DEAR!"] + + * * * * * + +[Illustration: "LISTEN TO MY TALE OF WOA!" + +(_Not much Gaiety about it._)] + + * * * * * + +TO MY LORD ADDINGTON. + + [Lord ADDINGTON, speaking recently at a Harvest Festival, + said, "If he were a labourer, and saw a rabbit nibbling his + cabbages, he would go for that rabbit with the first thing at + hand." (_Enthusiastic cheers._)--_Daily News_.] + +[Illustration] + + Lord ADDINGTON, most wonderful + Of people-pleasing peers, + You certainly contrived to raise + "Enthusiastic cheers." + + The villagers come flocking in + From all the country through, + To hear Your Lordship speak his mind + And tell them what to do. + + You did it well, you told them how + You'd have them understand + A lucky chance has made you own + A quantity of land. + + Though very fond of shooting, yet + Your love of shooting stops + At letting rabbits have their way + At decimating crops. + + And so, if you a labourer were, + (The which of course you're not), + And saw a rabbit in your ground + A-nibbling--on the spot + + You'd go for him with spade or fork, + At which, so it appears, + There rang throughout the crowded room + "Enthusiastic cheers." + + A Peer's advice is always good, + So doubtless they will grab it,-- + _But_ no one will be happier than + The cabbage-nibbling rabbit! + + * * * * * + +A LITTLE STRANGER. + + ["At the meeting of the Bermondsey Vestry, the Medical Officer + reported that water drawn from the service-pipe of a house + in the Jamaica Road, had been submitted to him. The water was + clear, but it contained a live horse-leech."--_Daily Paper_.] + + Oh, into our domestic pipes + They crawl and creep by stealth, + The gruesome creatures known unto + An Officer of Health! + Harken to him of Bermondsey, + Think what his murmurings teach, + "The water seemed quite limpid, _but_-- + It did contain a Leech!" + + The service-pipe was sound and good + In the Jamaica Road; + The cistern there had harboured ne'er + Microbe, or newt, or toad; + No clearer water softly laved + A coral island beach; + So thought the householder, until-- + He found that awful Leech! + + Perchance he was a temperance foe + To alcoholic drink, + And from all dalliance with Bung + Did scrupulously shrink. + Yet now to forms of fluid sin + He'll cotton, all and each; + He does not like such liquors, _but_-- + Prefers them to a Leech! + + Our pipes will not be pipes of peace + If such things hap, I trow; + And as for Water Trusts, 'tis hard + To trust in water now. + Oh, Co. of Southwark and Vauxhall, + We ratepayers beseech, + Double your filtering charges, _but_-- + Remove the loathly Leech! + + * * * * * + +OUR BOOKING-OFFICE. + +[Illustration] + +There is a judicial review of GEORGE MEREDITH's work in the +_Quarterly_ for October--masterly, too, quoth the Baron, as striking +a balance between effect and defect, and finding so much to be duly +said in high praise of the diffuse and picturesquely-circumnavigating +Novelist through whose labyrinthine pages the simple Baron finds it +hard to thread his way, and yet keep the clue. When the unskippingly +conscientious peruser of GEORGE M.'s novels is most desirous that the +author shall go ahead, GEORGE, like an Irish cardriver, will stop to +"discoorse us," and at such length, and so diffusely, and with such a +wealth of eccentric word-coming and grammar-dodging, that at last the +Baron gasps, choked by the rolling billows of sonorously booming or +boomingly sonorous words, battles with the waves, ducks, and comes +up again breathlessly, wondering where he may be, and what it was +all about. "Story! God bless you, I haven't much to tell, Sir!" says +the luxuriantly fanciful novel-grinder. And he hasn't much, it must +be owned, for essenced it would go into half a volume, or less, and +all over and above is pot-fuls of rich colour, spilt about almost at +haphazard, permutations and combinations, giving the effect of genius. +Which--genius it is; but a little of it goes a great way, in fact, a +very great way, wandering and straying until at length the Baron calls +for his _Richard Feverel_, and says, "This is the best that GEORGE +MEREDITH has written, as sure as my name is + +"THE BARON DE BOOK-WORMS." + + * * * * * + +BARD V. BARD. + + There was a poor Poet named CLOUGH, + Poet SWINBURNE declares he wrote stuff. + Ah, well, _he_ is dead! + 'Tis the living are fed, + By log-rollers, on butter and puff. + + * * * * * + +A SUGGESTION.--In a new poetical play at the Opera Comique there is a +good deal of hide-and-seek. It might have had a second title, and been +appropriately called _The Queen's Room; or, Secret Passages in the +Life of Mary Stuart_. + + * * * * * + +[Illustration: STREET IMPROVEMENTS. + +["If we really used the Thames Embankment sensibly and liberally, +it would abound with handsome shops and cheerful cafés a +and volksgartens, with newspaper kiosks and long lines of +bookstalls."--_Daily Telegraph_, Oct. 21.]] + + * * * * * + +BLENDIMUS! + +"Water, water everywhere" in the _Times_ recently, except when Messrs. +GILBEY wrote their annual, and this time hopeful, account of the +Claret vintage, and when subsequently Messrs. "P. and G."--(who on +earth are "P. and G."?)--with a few modest lines at the foot of a +page, last Wednesday, enlivened our drooping spirits with a brief but +satisfactory account of Champagne Prospects. If the vintages of '86 +and '87 are good, and those of '90 and '91 poor, why not make a blend? +and why not sell it as such? Let "P. and G."--[confound it! who on +earth can P. and G. be? "P. and J." would be "Punch and Judy"--and, +by the way, in the choice _Lingua Tuscana_, "P. and G." would stand +for "_Poncio è Giulia_." But, on the other hand, who, unauthorised, +would dare to use this signature? No matter--where were we?--ah!--to +resume.] Let "P. and G.," whoe'er they be--which is rhyme, though not +so intended--(but why this masquerade in initials?)--let them exploit +a "Blend of '90-cum-'86 and '91-cum-'87," sell it as such--viz., The +"P. and G. Blend," or "The Punchius and Giulia Blend"--at a reasonable +figure, and thus the Not-quite-up-to-the-mark vintages will be saved. +Have we not seen in City partnerships how a strong house saves a +failing one, and then the Blends go on successfully? Let "P. and G." +give us a first-rate Champagne, call it, say, The "G.B.," or "Golden +Blend," at a reasonable price, and, to drop once again into poetry, No +matter what their name may be, We'll ever bless our P. and G.![2] + +[Footnote 2: "P. and G." might stand for "Pay-for-it and Get-it," or +"Pour-it and Guzzle-it." A Correspondent has suggested that solution +of the initial problem might possibly be found in the names of Pommery +and Gre'--No! So common-place a suggestion is evidently, and on the +face of it, absurd. Not in this spirit did the Pickwick Club treat the +celebrated inscription on the stone that so puzzled the antiquarians.] + + * * * * * + +[Illustration: SPORT! + +_Cockney Sportsman_ (_eager, but disappointed_). "I SAY, MY BOY, SEEN +ANY BIRDS THIS WAY?" + +'_Cute Rustic (likewise anxious to make a bag)._ "OH, A RARE LOT, +GUV'NOR--A RARE LOT--JUST FLEW OVER THIS 'ERE 'EDGE, AND SETTLED IN +THAT 'ERE FIELD, CLOSE TO SQUIRE BLANK'S RICKS." + +[_Grateful Cockney Sportsman tips boy a shilling, and goes hopefully +after ... a flock of Starlings!_] + + * * * * * + +CAUGHT BY THE CLASSICS. + +(_THE RECORD OF A RUINED LIFE._) + +AUGUSTUS SPARKLER was an exceptionally brilliant man. At school he +had done marvellously well, and if he did not distinguish himself at +either of the Universities, it was less his fault than his misfortune. +When he entered the world, after casting off parental control, he +took up Medicine. He was a great success. He rose by leaps and bounds, +until at length it was thought highly probable that he would be +elected President of the Royal College of Physicians. He was sounded +upon the subject, and a question was put to him. + +"No," he replied, sorrowfully, and then the courteous Secretary +informed him, with tears in his voice, that he feared he was +disqualified. + +"Well, I will enter the Navy." + +He did. He passed through the _Britannia_, and rose by leaps and +bounds, until it was considered desirable to revive the post of Lord +High Admiral for his acceptance. But before this was done, he was +sounded upon the subject, and asked a question. + +"No," he again answered, regretfully. + +"I am afraid then, that the scheme must be abandoned," returned the +First Civil Lord (he had been chosen as more polite than his sea +colleagues), and he was almost moved to tears in his sadness. + +"I will enter the Army," cried AUGUSTUS, with determination. + +And he did. He rose from the ranks in less than no time to become a +Field Marshal. It was then that a certain Illustrious Personage asked +him if he would like to become Commander-in-Chief. + +"It is not impossible I might resign in your favour," said the I.P. +And then he asked him the necessary question. + +"No, Sir," returned AUGUSTUS, bowing down his head in shame. Again he +found that his career was interrupted. + +"I will try the Bar," he shouted. + +And he did. He entered at Gray's Inn, and in a very short time became +a Q.C., a Judge, and a Lord Justice. Then the entire Ministry begged +him, as a personal favour, to accept the post of Lord Chancellor. + +"With pleasure," was his modest rejoinder. Then he remembered that he +had been asked a certain question on previous occasions, and explained +matters. + +"I am afraid you won't do," cried the entire Ministry, mournfully. + +"Well, then, I will try the Church." + +And he tried the Church. He became an eminent divine. Every one spoke +well of him; and when, in due course, the Primacy of all England was +vacant, he was asked to accept it. Again he explained matters. + +"No!" shouted all the Deans and Chapters. + +"You can't mean it!" cried the entire body of Archdeacons. + +"Well, I never!" exclaimed every other ecclesiastical authority. +But it could not be, and the disappointment was too much for poor +AUGUSTUS, and he died of grief. + +And so they put on the tombstone, that he would have been +President of the Royal College of Physicians, Lord High Admiral, +Commander-in-Chief, Lord Chancellor, and Archbishop of Canterbury, +if--_he had only learned Greek!_ + + * * * * * + +LETTERS TO ABSTRACTIONS. + +NO. V.--TO GUSH. + +MY DEAREST DARLING PERSON, + +How sweet and amiable of you to allow a humble being like myself to +write to you. Dropping your own special style (which, to be perfectly +frank with you, I could no more continue through the whole of this +letter than I could dine off treacle and butter-scotch), I beg to say +that I am heartily glad to have this opportunity of telling you a few +things which have been on my mind for a long time. In what corner of +the great realm of abstractions do you make your home? I imagine you +whiling away the hours on some soft couch of imitation down, with a +little army of sweet but irrelevant smiles ready at all times to do +your bidding. You are refined, I am sure. You cultivate sympathy as +some men cultivate orchids, until it blooms and luxuriates in the +strangest and gaudiest shapes. Your real face is known of no other +abstraction; indeed, you never see it yourself, so well-fitted and so +constant is the mask through which you waft the endearments which have +caused you to be avoided everywhere. This, I admit, is imagination; +but is it very far from the truth? Perhaps I ask in vain, for truth +is the very last thing that may be expected of you and of those who +do your bidding upon earth. I will not, therefore, press the question, +but proceed at once to business. + +[Illustration] + +About a month ago I met your friend, ALGERNON JESSAMY. What is there +about ALGERNON that inspires such distrust? He is very presentable; +some people have gone so far as to call him absolutely good-looking. +He is tall, his figure is good, his clothes fit him admirably, and are +always speckless; his features are regular, his complexion fresh, and +his fair hair, carefully parted in the middle, lies like a smooth and +shining lid upon his head. I pass over all his remaining advantages, +whether of dress or of nature. It is enough to say that, thus +equipped, and with the additional merits of wealth and a good +position, ALGERNON ought to have found no difficulty in being one of +the most popular men in town. Perhaps he would have been if he had +not tried with such a persistent energy to make himself "so deuced +agreeable." The phrase is not mine, but that of SAMMY MIGGS, who has +a contempt for ALGERNON and his methods, which he never attempts to +conceal. + +"ALGY, my boy," I have heard him say, while the unfortunate JESSAMY +smiled uneasily, and shifted on his seat, "ALGY, my boy, I've known +you too long to give in to any of your nonsense. All that butter of +yours is wasted here, so you'd better keep it for someone who likes +it. Try it on QUISBY," he continued, indicating the celebrated actor, +who was at that moment frowning furiously over a notice of his latest +performance; "he loves it in firkins, and I'll undertake to say you'll +never get to the bottom of his swallowing capacity. You'll have to +exhaust even your stock, ALGY, my boy; and that's saying a lot." + +So thoroughly uncomfortable did the suave and gentle ALGERNON look, +that I afterwards ventured to remonstrate mildly with the gadfly +MIGGS. + +"What?" he said, "made him uncomfortable, did I? And a jolly good job +too. Bless you, I know the beggar through and through. I wasn't at +Oxford with him for nothing. Wish I had been. He's the sort of chap +who loses no end of I.O.U.'s at cards one night, and when he wins +piles of ready the next never offers to redeem them. You let me +alone about ALGY. I tell you I know him. There's no bigger humbug in +Christendom with all his soft sawder and gas about everybody being the +dearest and cleverest fellow he's ever met. Bah!" + +And therewith SAMMY left me, evidently smarting under some ancient +sore inflicted by the apparently angelic ALGERNON. + +However, this little incident was not the one I intended to narrate. +I met ALGY, as I said, about a month ago. It was in Piccadilly. At +first, as I approached, I thought he did not see me, but suddenly +he seemed to become aware of my presence. An electric thrill of joy +ran through him, a smile of heavenly welcome irradiated his face, he +darted towards me with both hands stretched out and almost fell round +my neck before all the astonished cabmen. + +"My dear, dear fellow," he gasped, apparently struggling hard with an +overpowering emotion, "this is almost too much. To think that I should +meet the one man of all others whom I have been literally longing to +see. Now you simply must walk with me for a bit. I can't afford to let +you go without having a good talk with you. It always refreshes me so +to hear your opinions of men and things." + +Ignoring my assurance that I had an important appointment to keep, +he linked his arm closely in mine and dragged me with him in the +direction from which I had come. How he pattered and chattered +and flattered. He daubed me over with flattery as I have seen +bill-stickers brush a hoarding over with paste. Never in my life had +I felt so small, so mean and such a perfect fool, for though I own +I have no objection to an occasional lollipop of praise, I must say +I loathe it in lumps the size of a jelly-fish. Yet such is the fare +on which JESSAMY compels me to subsist. And the annoying part of +it was that every lump which he crammed down my throat contained +an inferential compliment to himself, which I was forced either +to accept, or in declining it to appear a churl. I was never more +churlish, never less satisfied with myself. Amongst other things we +spoke of the affairs of "The Dustheap," a little Club of which we were +both members. JESSAMY opined it was going to the dogs. "Just look," +he said, "at the men they've got on the Committee; mere nobodies. I've +always wondered why you are not on it. Men like you and me wouldn't +make the ridiculous mistakes the present lot are constantly making. +Fancy their electing MUMPLEY, a regular outsider, without enough +manners for a school-boy. I really don't care about being in the +same room with him." At this very moment, by one of those curious +coincidences which invariably happen, the abused MUMPLEY himself, a +wealthy but otherwise inoffensive stockbroker, hove in sight. "There +comes the brute himself," said JESSAMY; and in another moment his arms +were round MUMPLEY's neck, and he was protesting, with all the fervour +of a heartfelt conviction, that MUMPLEY was the one man of all others +for whom his heart had been yearning. That being so, I left them +together, and departed to my business. + +Now does JESSAMY imagine that that kind of thing makes him a +favourite? It must be admitted that he is not very artistic in his +methods; and I fancy he must sometimes perceive, if I may use a +homely phrase, that he doesn't go down. But the poor beggar can't +help himself. He is driven by a force which he finds it impossible +to resist into the cruel snares that are spread for the over-amiable. +You, my dear GUSH, are that force, and to you, therefore, the sugary +JESSAMY owes his failure to win the appreciation which he courts so +ardently. + +And now I think I have relieved my mind of a sufficient load for the +time being. If I can remember anything else that might interest you, +you may count upon me to address you again. Permit me in the meantime +to subscribe myself with all proper curtness, + +Yours. &c. DIOGENES ROBINSON. + + * * * * * + +"THE PRODIGY SON." + +[Illustration: Much put out.] + +Sir,--I have not seen _Pamela's Prodigy_, but I have just read the +criticism in the _Times_, which says of it, "It must be regarded +either as a boyish effusion or a sorry joke." The criticism +then points out how it lacks "wit, humour, literary skill," and +apparently is wanting in everything that goes to make a successful +play,--everything that is, except the actors. Mrs. JOHN WOOD was in +it: she is a host in herself: not only a host, but the Manageress of +the theatre who, with her partner in the business, is responsible for +the selection of pieces. Now granting the critic to be right--and, +on referring to others, I find a _consensus_ of opinion backing him +up--at whose door lies the responsibility of having deliberately +selected a failure? Under what compulsion could so clever and +experienced an autocrat, sharp as a needle and with the "heye of an +'awk" in theatrical matters, as Mrs. JOHN WOOD, have made so fatal a +mistake--that is, if the critics are right, and if it be a mistake? +"_To err, is human_"--and, including even Mrs. JOHN WOOD, and the +critics, we are all human,--"_To forgive, divine_"--the critics +not being divine could not forgive; the public apparently, did +forgive--and, will, of course, forget. 'Tis all very well to fall +foul of the unhappy author--whom we will not name--_after_ the event; +but why was the piece ever chosen, and why was not the discovery of +its unfitness made during rehearsal? No! "as long as the world goes +round" these things will happen in the best regulated theatres, and +experience is apparently no sort of guide in such matters.--Yours +faithfully, + +"NOT THERE, NOT THERE, MY CHILD!" + + * * * * * + +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, Volume +101, October 31, 1891, by Various + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PUNCH *** + +***** This file should be named 15442-8.txt or 15442-8.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/1/5/4/4/15442/ + +Produced by Malcolm Farmer, William Flis, and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team. + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Punch, or The London Charivari, Volume 101, October 31, 1891 + +Author: Various + +Editor: Francis Burnand + + +Release Date: March 23, 2005 [EBook #15442] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PUNCH *** + + + + +Produced by Malcolm Farmer, William Flis, and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team. + + + + + + +</pre> + + <h1>PUNCH,<br /> + OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.</h1> + + <h2>Vol. 101.</h2> + <hr class="full" /> + + <h2>October 31, 1891.</h2> + <hr class="full" /> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page205" + id="page205"></a>[pg 205]</span> + + <h2>YOUNG GRANDOLPH'S BARTY.</h2> + + <div class="figleft" + style="width:55%; margin-right:4em;"> + <a href="images/205-1.png"><img width="100%" + src="images/205-1.png" + alt="Y" /></a> + </div> + + <p>(<i>Afrikander Version of the great Breitmann Ballad, + penned, "more in sorrow than in anger," by a "Deutscher" + resident in the distant regions where the Correspondent of the + "Daily Graphic" is, like der Herr Breitmann himself, + "drafellin' apout like eferydings.</i>")</p> + + <div class="poem" + style="margin-right:7%;"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Young GRANDOLPH hat a Barty—</p> + + <p class="i2">Vhere is dat Barty now?</p> + + <p>He fell'd in luf mit der African goldt;</p> + + <p class="i2">Mit SOLLY he'd hat a row;</p> + + <p>He dinks dat his secession</p> + + <p class="i2">Would make der resht look plue,</p> + + <p>But, before he drafel vast and var,</p> + + <p class="i2">His Barty sphlit in two.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Young GRANDOLPH hat a Barty—</p> + + <p class="i2">Dere vash B-LF-R, W-LFF, and G-RST,</p> + + <p>Dey haf vorgot deir "Leater,"</p> + + <p class="i2">Und dat ish not deir vorst.</p> + + <p>B-LF-R vill "boss" der Commons,</p> + + <p class="i2">Vhile GRANDOLPH—sore + disgraced—</p> + + <p>Ish "oop a tree," like der Bumble Bee,</p> + + <p class="i2">Und W-LFF and G-RST are "placed."</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Young GRANDOLPH hat a Barty—</p> + + <p class="i2">Vhen he dat Barty led,</p> + + <p>B-LF-R vash but a "Bummer,"</p> + + <p class="i2">A loafing lollop-head.</p> + + <p>Young Tories schvore by GRANDOLPH,</p> + + <p class="i2">(Dey schvear <i>at</i> GRANDOLPH + now,)</p> + + <p>Now at de feet of der "lank æsthete"</p> + + <p class="i2">Der <i>Times</i> itshelf doth bow!</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Young GRANDOLPH hat a Barty,</p> + + <p class="i2">Dere all vash "Souse und + Brouse."<a id="footnotetag1" + name="footnotetag1"></a><a href="#footnote1"><sup>1</sup></a></p> + + <p>Now he hets not dat prave gompany</p> + + <p class="i2">All in der Commons House,</p> + + <p>To see <i>him</i> skywgle GL-DST-NE,</p> + + <p class="i2">Und schlog him on der kop.</p> + + <p>Young Tory bloods no longer shout</p> + + <p class="i2">Till der SCHPEAKER bids dem shtop.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Und, like dat Rhine Mermaiden</p> + + <p class="i2">"Vot hadn't got nodings on,"</p> + + <p>Dey "don't dink mooch of beoplesh</p> + + <p class="i2">Vat goes mit demselfs alone!"</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Young GRANDOLPH <i>hat</i> a Barty—</p> + + <p class="i2">Where ish dat Barty now?</p> + + <p>Where ish dat oder ARTHUR's song</p> + + <p class="i2">Vot darkened der Champerlain's prow?</p> + + <p>Where ish de himmelstrahlende stern,</p> + + <p class="i2">De shtar of der Tory fight?</p> + + <p>All gon'd afay, as on Woodcock's wing,</p> + + <p class="i2">Afay in de ewigkeit!</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Young GRANDOLPH hat a Barty;</p> + + <p class="i2">He hunt der lions now,</p> + + <p>All in der lone Mashonaland,</p> + + <p class="i2">But he does not + "score"—somehow.</p> + + <p>One Grand Old Lion he dared to peard,</p> + + <p class="i2">Und he "potted" Earls and Dukes,</p> + + <p>But eight or nine real lions at once,</p> + + <p class="i2">He thinks are "<i>trop de luxe</i>"</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Young GRANDOLPH hat a Barty,</p> + + <p class="i2">But he scooted 'cross der sea,</p> + + <p>Und he tidn't say to dem, "Come, my poys,</p> + + <p class="i2">Und drafel along mit me!"</p> + </div> + </div> + + <blockquote class="footnote"> + <a id="footnote1" + name="footnote1"></a><b>Footnote 1:</b> + <a href="#footnotetag1">(return)</a> + + <p><i>Saus und Braus</i>—Ger., Riot and Bustle.</p> + </blockquote> + <hr /> + + <p>"CORRECT CARD, GENTS!"—"Wanted a Map of London" was + the heading of a letter in the <i>Times</i> last Thursday. No, + Sir! that's not what is wanted. There are hundreds of 'em, + specially seductive pocket ones, with just the very streets + that one wants to discover as short cuts to great centres + carefully omitted. What <i>is</i> wanted is a <i>correct</i> + map of London, divided into pocketable sections, portable, + foldable, durable, on canvas,—but if imperfect, as so + many of these small pocket catch-shilling ones are just now, + although professedly brought up to date '91, they are worse + than useless, and to purchase one is a waste of time, temper + and money. We could mention an attractive-looking little + map—which, but no— Publishers and public are hereby + cautioned! N.B.—Test well your pocket map through a + magnifying glass before buying. <i>Experto crede!</i></p> + <hr /> + + <h2>OYSTERLESS.</h2> + + <h4>(<i>By an Impecunious Gourmet</i>.)</h4> + + <blockquote class="note"> + <p>[Oysters are very dear, and are likely, as the season + advances, to be still higher in price.]</p> + </blockquote> + + <div class="figright" + style="width:30%;"> + <a href="images/205-2.png"><img width="100%" + src="images/205-2.png" + alt="" /></a> + </div> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Oh, Oyster mine! Oh, Oyster mine!</p> + + <p class="i2">You're still as exquisitely nice;</p> + + <p>With perfect pearly tints you shine,</p> + + <p class="i2">But you are such an awful price.</p> + + <p>The lemon and the fresh cayenne,</p> + + <p class="i2">Brown bread and butter and the stout</p> + + <p>Are here, and just the same, but then</p> + + <p class="i2">What if I have to leave you out?</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>What wonder that my spirits droop,</p> + + <p class="i2">That life can bring me no delight,</p> + + <p>When I must give up oyster soup,</p> + + <p class="i2">So softly delicately white.</p> + + <p>The curry powder stands anear,</p> + + <p class="i2">The scallop shells, but what care + I—</p> + + <p>You're so abominably dear,</p> + + <p class="i2">O Oyster! that I cannot buy.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>With sad imaginative flights,</p> + + <p class="i2">I think upon the days of yore;</p> + + <p>Like TICKLER, on Ambrosian nights,</p> + + <p class="i2">I have consumed them by the score.</p> + + <p>And still, whenever you appeared,</p> + + <p class="i2">My pride it was to use you well;</p> + + <p>I let the juice play round your beard,</p> + + <p class="i2">And always on the hollow shell.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>I placed you in the fair lark-pie.</p> + + <p class="i2">With steak and kidneys too, of + course;</p> + + <p>Your ancestors were glad to die,</p> + + <p class="i2">So well I made the oyster sauce.</p> + + <p>I had you stewed and featly fried,</p> + + <p class="i2">And dipped in batter—think of + that;</p> + + <p>And, as a pleasant change, I've tried</p> + + <p class="i2">You, skewered in rows, with + bacon-fat.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>"Where art thou, ALICE?" cried the bard.</p> + + <p class="i2">"Where art thou, Oyster?" I exclaim.</p> + + <p>It really is extremely hard,</p> + + <p class="i2">To know thee nothing but a name.</p> + + <p>For this is surely torment worse</p> + + <p class="i2">Than DANTE heaped upon his + dead;—</p> + + <p>To find thee quite beyond my purse,</p> + + <p class="i2">And so go oysterless to bed.</p> + </div> + </div> + <hr /> + + <p><i>À PROPOS</i> OF THE SECRETARY FOR WAR'S ROSEATE + AFTER—DINNER SPEECH (<i>on the entirely satisfactory + state of the Army generally</i>).—(STAN-)"HOPE told a + flattering tale."</p> + <hr /> + + <p>UNIVERSITY MEM.—The Dean of Christ Church will keep + his seat till Christmas, and just a LIDDELL longer.</p> + <hr /> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page206" + id="page206"></a>[pg 206]</span> + + <div class="figcenter" + style="width:100%;"> + <h2>THE RAVEN.</h2> + + <center> + (<i>Very Latest War-Office Version. See Mr. Stanhope's + After-Dinner Speech at the Holborn Restaurant (Oct. + 17), and Letter in "Times" (Oct. 21) on "Pangloss at + the War Office."</i>) + </center><a href="images/206.png"><img width="100%" + src="images/206.png" + alt="" /></a> + </div> + + <p><i>Secretarial Pangloss sings:</i>—</p> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Late, upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, + tired but cheery,</p> + + <p>Over many an optimistic record of War Office + lore;</p> + + <p>Whilst I worked, assorting, mapping, suddenly there + came a tapping,</p> + + <p>As of someone rudely rapping, rapping at my + Office-door.</p> + + <p>"Some late messenger," I muttered, "tapping at my + Office-door—</p> + + <p class="i10">Only this, but it's a bore."</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>I remember—being sober—it was in the + chill October,</p> + + <p>Light from the electric globe or horseshoe lighted + wall and floor;</p> + + <p>Also that it was the morrow of the Holborn Banquet; + sorrow</p> + + <p>From the Blue Books croakers borrow—sorrow for + the days of yore,</p> + + <p>For the days when "<i>Rule Britannia</i>" sounded + far o'er sea and shore.</p> + + <p class="i10">Ah! it <i>must</i> have been a bore!</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>But on that let's draw the curtain. I am simply + cock-sure—certain</p> + + <p>That "our splendid little Army" never was so fine + before.</p> + + <p>It will take a lot of beating! Such remarks I keep + repeating;</p> + + <p>They come handy—after eating, and are always + sure to score—</p> + + <p>Dash that rapping chap entreating entrance at my + Office-door!</p> + + <p class="i10">It is an infernal + bore!</p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page207" + id="page207"></a>[pg 207]</span> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Presently I grew more placid (Optimists should not + be acid.)</p> + + <p>"Come in!" I exclaimed—"con<i>found</i> you! + Pray stand drumming there no more."</p> + + <p>But the donkey still kept tapping. "Dolt!" I + muttered, sharply snapping,</p> + + <p>"Why the deuce do you come rapping, rapping at my + Office-door?</p> + + <p>Yet not 'enter' when you're told to?"—here I + opened wide the door—</p> + + <p class="i10">Darkness there, and nothing more.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Open next I flung the shutter, when, with a + prodigious flutter,</p> + + <p>In there stepped a bumptious Raven, black as any + blackamoor.</p> + + <p>Not the least obeisance made he, not a moment + stopped or stayed he,</p> + + <p>But with scornful look, though shady, perched above + my Office-door,</p> + + <p>Perched upon BRITANNIA's bust that stood above my + Office-door—</p> + + <p class="i10">Perched, and sat, and seemed to + snore.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>"Well," I said, sardonic smiling, "this is really + rather riling;</p> + + <p>"It comports not with decorum such as the War Office + bore</p> + + <p>In old days stiff and clean-shaven. Dub me a + Gladstonian craven</p> + + <p>If I ever saw a Raven at the W.O. before.</p> + + <p>Tell me what your blessed name is. '<i>Rule + Britannia</i>' held of yore,"</p> + + <p class="i10">Quoth the bird, "'Tis so no more!"</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Much I marvelled this sophistic fowl to utter + pessimistic</p> + + <p>Fustian, which so little meaning—little + relevancy bore</p> + + <p>To the rule of me and SOLLY; but, although it may + sound folly,</p> + + <p>This strange fowl a strange resemblance to "Our Only + General" wore,</p> + + <p>To the W-LS-L-Y whose pretensions to sound military + lore</p> + + <p class="i10">Are becoming quite a bore.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>But the Raven, sitting lonely on that much-peeled + bust, spake only</p> + + <p>Of our Army as a makeshift, small, ill-manned, and + precious poor.</p> + + <p>Drat the pessimistic bird!—he grumbled of "the + hurdy-gurdy</p> + + <p>Marching-past side of a soldier's life in peace." + "We've fought before,</p> + + <p>Winning battles with boy-troops," I cried, "We'll do + as we before—"</p> + + <p class="i10">Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore!"</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>"Nonsense!" said I. "After dinner at the Holborn, as + a winner</p> + + <p>Spake I in the <i>Pangloss</i> spirit to the + taxpayers, (<i>Don't</i> snore!)</p> + + <p>Told them our recruits—who'll master e'en + unmerciful disaster,</p> + + <p>Come in fast and come in faster, quite as good as + those of yore,"—</p> + + <p>"Flattering tales of (Stan) Hope!" cried the bird, + whose dismal dirges bore,</p> + + <p class="i10">One dark burden—"Nevermore!"</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>"Hang it, Raven, this <i>is</i> riling!" cried I. + "Stop your rude reviling!"</p> + + <p>Then I wheeled my office-chair in front of bird and + bust and door;</p> + + <p>And upon its cushion sinking, "I," I said, "will + smash like winking</p> + + <p>This impeachment you are bringing, O you ominous + bird of yore,</p> + + <p>O you grim, ungainly, ghastly, grumbling, gruesome + feathered bore!"</p> + + <p class="i10">Croaked the Raven, "You I'll floor."</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Then methought the bird looked denser, and his cheek + became immenser.</p> + + <p>And he twaddled of VON MOLTKE, and his German Army + Corps;</p> + + <p>"Flattering the tax-payers' vanity," and much + similar insanity,</p> + + <p>In a style that lacked urbanity, till the thing + became a bore.</p> + + <p>"Oh, get out of it!" I cried; "our little Army yet + will score."</p> + + <p class="i10">Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore!"</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>"Prophet!" said I, "of all evil, that we're 'going + to the devil'</p> + + <p>Has been the old croaker's gospel for a century, and + more.</p> + + <p>Red-gilled Colonels this have chaunted in + BRITTANIA's ears undaunted,</p> + + <p>By their ghosts you must he haunted. Take a + Blue-pill, I implore!</p> + + <p>When our Army meets the foe it's bound to lick him + as of yore!"</p> + + <p class="i10">Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore!</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>"Prophet!" said I, "that's uncivil. You may go + to—well, the devil!</p> + + <p>That Establishments are 'short,' and 'standards' + lowered o'er and o'er.</p> + + <p>That mere 'weeds,' with chests of maiden, cannot + march with knapsack laden;</p> + + <p>That the heat of sultry Aden, or the cold of + Labrador,</p> + + <p>Such can't stand, <i>may</i> be the truth; but keep + it dark, bird, I implore!"</p> + + <p class="i10">Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore!"</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>"Then excuse me, we'll be parting, doleful fowl," I + cried, upstarting;</p> + + <p>"Get thee back to—the Red River, or the Nile's + sand-cumbered shore!</p> + + <p>Leave no 'Magazine' as token of the twaddle you have + spoken.</p> + + <p>What? BRITANNIA stoney-broken? Quit her bust above + my door.</p> + + <p>Take thy hook from the War Office; take thy beak + from off my door!"</p> + + <p class="i10">Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore!"</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>And the Raven still is sitting, croaking statements + most unfitting,</p> + + <p>On BRITANNIA's much-peeled bust that's placed above + my Office-door,</p> + + <p>And if <i>Pangloss</i>, e'en in seeming, lent an ear + to his dark dreaming,</p> + + <p>Useless were official scheming, grants of millions + by the score,</p> + + <p>For my soul were like the shadow that he casts upon + the floor,</p> + + <p class="i10">Dark and dismal evermore!</p> + </div> + </div> + <hr /> + + <div class="figcenter" + style="width:60%;"> + <a href="images/207.png"><img width="100%" + src="images/207.png" + alt="THINGS ONE WOULD RATHER HAVE EXPRESSED DIFFERENTLY." /> + </a> + + <h3>THINGS ONE WOULD RATHER HAVE EXPRESSED + DIFFERENTLY.</h3> + + <p><i>Aunt Jane</i>. "THAT MAKES THREE WEDDINGS IN OUR + FAMILY WITHIN A TWELVEMONTH! IT WILL BE <i>YOUR</i> TURN + NEXT, MATILDA!"</p> + + <p><i>Matilda</i>. "OH, NO!"</p> + + <p><i>Aunt Jane</i>. "WELL, THE MOST EXTRAORDINARY THINGS + HAPPEN SOMETIMES, YOU KNOW!"</p> + </div> + <hr /> + + <h3>TUPPER'S PROVERBIAL PHILOSOPHY UP TO DATE.</h3> + + <blockquote class="note"> + <p>["The range of our inquiry was intended to include the + whole migratory range for seals.... Our movements were kept + most secret."—<i>Sir George Baden-Powell on the Work + of the Behring Sea Commission</i>.]</p> + </blockquote> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>We came, we saw, we—held our tongues + (myself—BADEN-POWELL—and Mr. DAWSON.)</p> + + <p>We popped on each seal-island "unbeknownst," and + what we discovered we held our jaws on.</p> + + <p>We'd five hundred interviews within three months, + which I think "cuts the record" in interviewing,</p> + + <p>Corresponded with 'Frisco, Japan, and Russia; so I + hope you'll allow we've been "up and doing."</p> + + <p>(Not up and <i>saying</i>, be't well understood). As + TUPPER (the Honourable C.H., Minister</p> + + <p>Of Fisheries) said, in the style of his namesake, + "The fool imagines all Silence is sinister,</p> + + <p>"But the wise man knows that it's often dexterous." + Be sure no inquisitive shyness or bounce'll</p> + + <p>Make us "too previous" with our Report, which goes + first to the QUEEN and the Privy Council.</p> + + <p>Some bigwig's motto is, "Say and Seal," but as + TUPPER remarked a forefinger laying</p> + + <p>To the dexter side of a fine proboscis, "Our motto + at present is, Seal <i>without</i> saying!"</p> + </div> + </div> + <hr /> + + <p>LEGAL QUERY.—The oldest of the thirteen Judges on the + Scotch Bench is YOUNG. Any chance for a Junior after this?</p> + <hr /> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page208" + id="page208"></a>[pg 208]</span> + + <h2>THE TRAVELLING COMPANIONS.</h2> + + <h3>No. XII.</h3> + + <blockquote> + <p>SCENE—<i>In front of the Hôtel Bodenhaus at + Splügen. The Diligence for Bellinzona is having its team + attached. An elderly Englishwoman is sitting on her trunk, + trying to run through the last hundred pages of a novel + from the Hotel Library before her departure.</i> PODBURY + <i>is in the Hotel, negotiating for sandwiches.</i> + CULCHARD <i>is practising his Italian upon a very dingy + gentleman in smoked spectacles, with a shawl round his + throat.</i></p> + </blockquote> + + <div class="drama"> + <p><i>The Dingy Italian</i> (<i>suddenly discovering + CULCHARD's nationality</i>). Ecco, siete Inglese! Lat us + spika Ingelis, I onnerstan' 'im to ze bottom-side. + (<i>Laboriously, to</i> CULCHARD, <i>who tries to conceal + his chagrin.</i>) 'Ow menni time you employ to go since + Coire at here? (C. <i>nods with vague encouragement</i>.) + Vich manners of vezzer you vere possess troo your + travels—mosh ommerella? (C.'s <i>eyes grow + vacant</i>.) Ha, I <i>tink</i> it vood! Zis day ze vicket + root sall 'ave plenti 'orse to pull, &c., &c. + (<i>Here</i> PODBURY <i>comes up, and puts some rugs + the</i> coupé <i>of the diligence.</i>) You sit at ze + beginning-end, hey? better, you tink, zan ze mizzle? I too, + zen, sall ride at ze front—we vill spika Ingelis, + altro!</p> + + <p><i>Podb.</i> (<i>overhearing this, with horror</i>). One + minute, CULCHARD. (<i>He draws him aside.</i>) I say, for + goodness' sake, don't let's have that old organ-grinding + Johnny in the <i>coupé</i> with <i>us</i>!</p> + + <p><i>Culch.</i> Organ-grinder! you are so <i>very</i> + insular! For anything you can tell, he may be a decayed + nobleman.</p> + + <p><i>Pod.</i> (<i>coarsely</i>). Well, let him decay + somewhere else, that's all! Just tell the Conductor to + shove him in the <i>intérieur</i>, do, while I nip in the + <i>coupé</i> and keep our places.</p> + </div> + + <div class="figright" + style="width:35%;"> + <a href="images/208.png"><img width="100%" + src="images/208.png" + alt="'An elderly Englishwoman is sitting on her trunk.'" /> + </a>"An elderly Englishwoman is sitting on her trunk." + </div> + + <blockquote> + <p>[CULCHARD, <i>on reflection, adopts this suggestion, and + the</i> Italian Gentleman, <i>after fluttering feebly about + the</i> coupé <i>door, is unceremoniously bundled by + the</i> Conductor <i>into the hinder part of the + diligence.</i></p> + </blockquote> + + <h4><i>In the Bernardino Pass, during the Ascent.</i></h4> + + <div class="drama"> + <p><i>Culch.</i> Glorious view one gets at each fresh turn + of the road, PODBURY! Look at Hinter-rhein, far down below + there, like a toy village, and that vast desolate valley, + with the grey river rushing through it, and the green + glacier at the end, and these awful snow-covered peaks all + round—<i>look</i>, man!</p> + + <p><i>Podb.</i> I'm looking, old chap. It's all there, + right enough!</p> + + <p><i>Culch.</i> (<i>vexed</i>). It doesn't seem to be + making any particular impression on you, I must say!</p> + + <p><i>Podb.</i> It's making me deuced peckish, I know + that—how about lunch, eh!</p> + + <p><i>Culch.</i> (<i>pained</i>). We are going through + scenery like this, and all you think of is—lunch! + (PODBURY <i>opens a basket.</i>) You may give me one of + those sandwiches. What made you get <i>veal</i>? and the + bread's all crust, too! Thanks, I'll take some claret.... + (<i>They lunch; the vehicle meanwhile toils up to the head + of the Pass.</i>) Dear me, we're at the top already! These + rocks shut out the valley altogether—much colder at + this height, eh? Don't you find this keen air most + exhilarating?</p> + + <p><i>Podb.</i> (<i>shivering</i>). Oh very, do you mind + putting your window up? Thanks. You seem uncommon chirpy + to-day. Beginning to get <i>over</i> it, eh?</p> + + <p><i>Culch.</i> We shan't get over it for some hours + yet.</p> + + <p><i>Podb.</i> I didn't mean the Pass, I + meant—(<i>hesitating</i>)—well, your little + affair with Miss PRENDERGAST, you know.</p> + + <p><i>Culch.</i> My little affair? Get over? (<i>He + suddenly understands.</i>) Oh, ah, to be sure. Yes, thank + you, my dear fellow, it is not making me + <i>particularly</i> unhappy. [<i>He goes into a fit of + silent laughter.</i></p> + + <p><i>Podb.</i> Glad to hear it. (<i>To himself</i>.) + 'Jove, if he only knew what <i>I</i> know! [<i>He + chuckles.</i></p> + + <p><i>Culch.</i> You don't appear to be exactly + heartbroken?</p> + + <p><i>Podb.</i> I? why <i>should</i> I be—about + <i>what</i>?</p> + + <p><i>Culch.</i> (<i>with an affectation of reserve</i>). + Exactly, I was forgetting. (<i>To himself</i>.) It's really + rather humorous. (<i>He laughs again.</i>) Ha, we're + beginning to go down now. Hey for Italy—la bella + Italia! (<i>The diligence takes the first curve.</i>) Good + Heavens, what a turn! We're going at rather a sharp pace + for downhill, eh? I suppose these Swiss drivers know what + they're about, though.</p> + + <p><i>Podb.</i> Oh, yes, generally—when they're not + drunk. I can only see this fellow's boots—but they + look to me a trifle squiffy.</p> + + <p><i>Culch.</i> (<i>inspecting them, anxiously</i>). He + does seem to drive very recklessly. <i>Look</i> at those + leaders—heading right for the precipice.... Ah, just + saved it! How we do lurch in swinging round!</p> + + <p><i>Podb.</i> Topheavy—I expect, too much luggage + on board—have another sandwich?</p> + + <p><i>Culch.</i> Not for me, thanks. I say, I wonder if + it's safe, having no parapet, only these stone posts, + eh?</p> + + <p><i>Pod.</i> Safe enough—unless the wheel catches + one—it was as near as a toucher just + then—aren't you going to smoke? No? <i>I</i> am. By + the way, what were you so amused about just now, eh?</p> + + <p><i>Culch.</i> <i>Was</i> I amused? (<i>The vehicle gives + another tremendous lurch.</i>) Really, this is <i>too</i> + horrible!</p> + + <p><i>Podb.</i> (<i>with secret enjoyment</i>). We're right + enough, if the horses don't happen to stumble. That + off-leader isn't over sure-footed—did you see + <i>that</i>? (<i>Culch. shudders.</i>) But what's the joke + about Miss PRENDERGAST?</p> + + <p><i>Culch.</i> (<i>irritably</i>). Oh, for Heaven's sake, + don't bother about that <i>now</i>. I've something else to + think about. My goodness, we were nearly over that time! + What are you looking at?</p> + + <p><i>Podb.</i> (<i>who has been leaning forward</i>). Only + one of the traces—they've done it up with a penny + ball of string, but I daresay it will stand the strain. You + aren't <i>half</i> enjoying the view, old fellow.</p> + + <p><i>Culch.</i> Yes, I am. + Magnificent!—glorious!—isn't it?</p> + + <p><i>Podb.</i> Find you see it better with your eyes shut? + But I say, I wish you'd explain what you were sniggering + at.</p> + + <p><i>Culch.</i> Take my advice, and don't press me, my + dear fellow; you may regret it if you do!</p> + + <p><i>Podb.</i> I'll risk it. It must be a devilish funny + joke to tickle you like that. Come, out with it!</p> + + <p><i>Culch.</i> Well, if you must know, I was laughing.... + Oh, he'll <i>never</i> get those horses round in.... I + was—er—rather amused by your evident assumption + that I must have been <i>rejected</i> by Miss + PRENDERGAST.</p> + + <p><i>Podb.</i> Oh, was <i>that</i> it? And you're nothing + of the kind, eh? [<i>He chuckles again.</i></p> + + <p><i>Culch.</i> (<i>with dignity</i>). No doubt you will + find it very singular; but, as a matter of fact, + she—well, she most certainly did not + <i>discourage</i> my pretensions.</p> + + <p><i>Podb.</i> The deuce she didn't! Did she tell you + RUSKIN's ideas about courtship being a probation, and ask + you if you were ready to be under vow for her, by any + chance?</p> + + <p><i>Culch.</i> This is too bad, PODBURY; you must have + been there, or you couldn't possibly know!</p> + + <p><i>Podb.</i> Much obliged, I'm sure. I don't listen + behind doors, as a general thing. I suppose, now, she set + you a trial of some kind, to prove your mettle, eh? + [<i>With another chuckle.</i></p> + + <p><i>Culch.</i> (<i>furiously</i>). Take care—or I + may tell you more than you bargain for!</p> + + <p><i>Podb.</i> Go on—never mind <i>me</i>. Bless + you, <i>I'm</i> under vow for her, too, my dear boy. + Fact!</p> + + <p><i>Culch.</i> That's impossible, and I can prove it. The + service she demanded was, that I should leave Constance at + once—with you. Do you understand—with + <i>you</i>, PODBURY!</p> + + <p><i>Podb.</i> (<i>with a prolonged whistle</i>). My + aunt!</p> + + <p><i>Culch.</i> (<i>severely</i>). You may invoke every + female relative you possess in the world, but it won't + alter the fact, and that alone ought to convince + you—</p> + + <p><i>Podb.</i> Hold on a bit. Wait till you've heard + <i>my</i> penance. She told me to cart <i>you</i> off, + <i>Now</i>, then!</p> + + <p><i>Culch.</i> (<i>faintly</i>). If I thought she'd been + trifling with us both like that, I'd never—</p> + + <p><i>Podb.</i> She's no end of a clever girl, you know. + And, after all, she may only have wanted time to make up + her mind.</p> + + <p><i>Culch.</i> (<i>violently</i>). I tell you <i>what</i> + she is—she's a cold-blooded pedantic prig, and a + systematic flirt! I loathe and detest a prig, but a flirt I + despise—yes, <i>despise</i>, PODBURY!</p> + + <p><i>Podb.</i> (<i>with only apparent irrelevance</i>). + The same to you, and many of 'em, old chap! Hullo, we're + going to stop at this inn. Let's get out and stretch our + legs and have some coffee.</p> + </div> + + <blockquote> + <p>[<i>They do; on returning, they find the</i> Italian + Gentleman <i>smiling blandly at them from inside the</i> + coupé.</p> + </blockquote> + + <div class="drama"> + <p><i>The It. G.</i> Goodaby, dear frens, a riverderla! I + success at your chairs. I vish you a pleasure's delay!</p> + + <p><i>Podb.</i> But I say, look here, Sir, we're going on, + and you've got our place!</p> + + <p><i>The It. G.</i> Sank you verri moch. I 'ope so. [<i>He + blows</i> PODBURY <i>a + kiss.</i></p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page209" + id="page209"></a>[pg 209]</span> + + <p><i>Podb.</i> (<i>with intense disgust</i>). How on earth + are we going to get that beggar out? Set the Conductor at + him, CULCHARD, do—you can talk the lingo best!</p> + + <p><i>Culch.</i> (<i>who has had enough of</i> PODBURY + <i>for the present</i>). Talk to him yourself, my dear + fellow, <i>I</i>'m not going to make a row. [<i>He gets + in.</i></p> + + <p><i>Podb.</i> (<i>to</i> Conductor). Hi! sprechen sie + Französisch, oder was? <i>il-y-a quelque chose dans mon + siège, dites-lui de</i>—what the deuce is the French + for "clear out"?</p> + + <p><i>Cond.</i> <i>Montez, Monsieur, nous bartons, montez + vîte alors!</i></p> + </div> + + <blockquote> + <p>[<i>He thrusts</i> PODBURY, <i>protesting vainly, into + the intérieur, with two peasants, a priest and the elderly + Englishwoman. The diligence starts again.</i></p> + </blockquote> + <hr /> + + <h2>AT THE ITALIAN OPERA.</h2> + + <div class="figleft" + style="width:40%;"> + <a href="images/209-1.png"><img width="100%" + src="images/209-1.png" + alt="Two (Covent Garden) Gentlemen of Verona!!" /> + </a>Two (Covent Garden) Gentlemen of Verona!! + </div> + + <div class="figright" + style="width:50%;"> + <a href="images/209-2.png"><img width="100%" + src="images/209-2.png" + alt="Exit Romeo by the Rope Ladder,—a shrewd guess at what really happens." /> + </a>Exit Romeo by the Rope Ladder,—a shrewd guess at + what really happens. + </div> + + <p><i>Tuesday, October 20th</i>.—Opening night. <i>Roméo + et Juliette; débuts</i> of Mlle. SIMMONET, of the Opera + Comique, and M. COSSIRA, as the lovers. <i>Lady Capulet's</i> + Small Dance, quite the smartest of the season, as the Veronese + nobility present were evidently remarking, with abundance of + easy gesture, to one another, as they led the way to the + lemonade. The <i>Juliette</i> of the evening charming, and soon + singing herself into the good graces of a large audience; + ditto, M. COSSIRA, "than which," as the Prophet NICHOLAS would + say, "a more competent <i>Roméo</i>—though perhaps a + trifle full in the waist for balcony-scaling by moonlight." If + he had really trusted himself to that gossamer ladder in the + Fourth Act, he would never have got away to Mantua, especially + as <i>Juliette</i>, with the thoughtlessness of her age and + sex, omitted to secure it in any way. Fortunately it was not a + long drop, and the descent was accomplished without accident, + as will be seen from the accompanying sketch.</p> + <hr /> + + <p>CHANGE FOR A TENOR.—Mr. SEYMOUR HADEN, the opponent of + the Cremation gospel according to THOMPSON (Sir HENRY of that + ilk), should come to an arrangement with the English Light + Opera tenor, and tack COFFIN on to his name.</p> + <hr /> + + <h2>ONLY FANCY!</h2> + + <h4>(<i>From Mr. Punch's Own Rumourists.</i>)</h4> + + <p>It may be interesting at this time of the year to mention + the fact that Lord SALISBURY always uses a poker in cracking + walnuts. He says it saves the silver. The other day, whilst + wielding the poker across the walnuts and the wine, Mr. + GLADSTONE chanced to look in. The Premier, with his well-known + hospitality, immediately furnished the Right Hon. Gentleman + with another poker (brought in from the drawing-room), and + ordered up a fresh supply of nuts.</p> + <hr class="short" /> + + <div class="figright" + style="width:25%;"> + <a href="images/209-3.png"><img width="100%" + src="images/209-3.png" + alt="" /></a> + </div> + + <p>Mr. GLADSTONE, recurring in private conversation to a recent + visit paid by him to Lord SALISBURY in Arlington Street, + questioned the convenience of a poker as an instrument for + shattering the shell of the walnut. For himself, he says, he + has always found a pair of tongs more convenient.</p> + <hr class="short" /> + + <p>The Marquis of HARTINGTON, to whom this remark was reported, + observed that as a dissentient Liberal he naturally differed + from Mr. GLADSTONE, and was not to the fullest extent able to + agree with his noble friend, the Marquis of SALISBURY. For his + own part, he found the most convenient way of cracking a walnut + was deftly to place the article in the interstice of the + dining-room door, and gently close it. He found this plan + combined with its original purpose a gentle exercise on the + part of the guests highly conducive to digestion.</p> + <hr class="short" /> + + <p>Two hours later, the Leader of the Opposition was seen + walking up Arlington Street, and on reaching Piccadilly, he + hailed an omnibus, observing the precaution before entering of + requiring the conductor to produce the scale of charges. "No + pirate busses for <i>me</i>," the Right Hon. Member remarked, + as (omitting the oath) he took his seat.</p> + <hr class="short" /> + + <p>It is no secret in official circles that before the vacancy + in the office of Postmaster-General was filled, it was placed + at the disposal of the BARON BE BOOK-WORMS. Upon Sir JAMES + FERGUSSON stepping in, the PRIME MINISTER was urgently desirous + to have the collaboration of the noble BARON at the Foreign + Office. But, somehow, the post of Under-Secretary vacated by + Sir JAMES was assigned to Mr. WILLIAM JAMES LOWTHER.</p> + <hr class="short" /> + + <p>We are authorised to state that His Imperial Majesty the + Emperor of GERMANY, feeling the need of a little change, has + resolved to stay at home for a fortnight.</p> + <hr class="short" /> + + <p>We are in a position to state that just prior to the General + Election of 1880, Mr. CHAMBERLAIN was observed standing before + a cheval glass, alternatively fixing his eyeglass in the right + eye and in the left. Asked why he should thus quaintly occupy + his leisure moments, he replied: "It is in view of the General + Election. If on the platform any person in the crowd poses you + with an awkward question, should you be able rapidly to + transfer your eyeglass from your right eye to your left, and + fix the obtruder with a stony stare, he is so much engaged in + wondering whether you can keep the glass in position, that he + forgets what he asked you, and you can pass on to less + dangerous topics."</p> + <hr class="short" /> + + <p>When Mr. SCHOMBERG McDONNELL informed his chief that Lord + RANDOLPH CHURCHILL had "come upon eight lions," Lord SALISBURY + sighed and remained for a moment in deep thought. Then he said, + "How different had the eight lions come upon him!"</p> + <hr class="short" /> + + <p>Mr. GLADSTONE has backed himself to walk a mile, talk a + mile, write a mile, review a mile, disestablish a mile, chop a + mile and hop a mile in one hour. Sporting circles are much + interested in the veteran statesman's undertaking, and little + else is talked about at the chief West End resorts. The general + opinion of those who ought to know seems to be in favour of the + scythe-bearer, but not a few have invested a pound or two on + the Mid-Lothian Marvel.</p> + <hr /> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page210" + id="page210"></a>[pg 210]</span> + + <div class="figcenter" + style="width:100%;"> + <a href="images/210.png"><img width="100%" + src="images/210.png" + alt="TRUE LITERARY EXCLUSIVENESS." /></a> + + <h3>TRUE LITERARY EXCLUSIVENESS.</h3> + + <p>"<i>WHAT</i>, MY DEAR REGINALD! YOU DON'T MEAN TO SAY + YOU DON'T ADMIRE BYRON AS A POET?"</p> + + <p>"CERTAINLY NOT. INDEED I HAVE A QUITE SPECIAL LOATHING + AND CONTEMPT FOR HIM IN THAT PARTICULAR CHARACTAH!"</p> + + <p>"DEAR ME! WHY, WHAT PARTICULAR POEMS OF HIS DO YOU + OBJECT TO SO STRONGLY?"</p> + + <p>"MY DEAH GRANDMOTHAH, I NEVAH READ A LINE OF BYRON IN MY + LIFE,—AND I CERTAINLY NEVAH MEAN TO!"</p> + </div> + <hr /> + + <h2>TRYING IT ON.</h2> + + <blockquote class="note"> + <p>["The natural result of a <i>rapprochement</i> between + Russia and Italy, even if avowedly platonic in its + character, would be to weaken the prestige and moral force + of the Triple Alliance."—<i>The Times</i>.]</p> + </blockquote> + + <center> + <i>Mr. Bruin loquitur</i>:— + </center> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p><i>Pst!</i> Hang it, quite <i>au mieux!</i> Now what + am I to do?</p> + + <p class="i2">I must draw her attention, if I'm going + to have a chance.</p> + + <p>She seems so satisfied with those gallants at her + side</p> + + <p class="i2">That just now in my direction she will + hardly deign a glance.</p> + + <p class="i4"><i>Pst!</i> Darling, just a word!</p> + + <p>No! Deaf as any post! It is perfectly absurd!</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p><i>Pst!</i> Heeds me not the least, just as though I + were the Beast,</p> + + <p class="i2">And she the sovereign Beauty that she + deems she is, no doubt.</p> + + <p>Since she won those burly <i>beaux</i>, it appears + to be no go,</p> + + <p class="i2">But Bruin's an old Masher, and he knows + what he's about.</p> + + <p class="i4"><i>Pst!</i> Darling, look this way!</p> + + <p>In your pretty little ear I've a word or two to + say!</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>The coy Gallic girl I've won. It is really awful + fun,</p> + + <p class="i2">For <i>her</i> prejudice was strong as + was that of Lady ANNE</p> + + <p>To the ugly crookback, DICK. But my wooing there was + quick.</p> + + <p class="i2">Platonic? Oh! of course. That is always + Bruin's plan.</p> + + <p class="i4">A flirtation means no harm,</p> + + <p>When you wish not to corrupt or betray, but simply + charm.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Fancy Italian girl won by the swagger twirl</p> + + <p class="i2">Of an Austrian moustache! It is + monstrous, nothing less.</p> + + <p>What <i>would</i> GARIBALDI say? Well, he doesn't + live to-day,</p> + + <p class="i2">Or he'd tear her from the arm of her + ancient foe, I guess.</p> + + <p class="i4">And that stalwart Teuton too!</p> + + <p>Do you really think, my girl, he can really care for + <i>you</i>?</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Ah! you always were a flirt, Miss ITALIA. You have + hurt</p> + + <p class="i2">France's feelings very much. Why, she + stood your faithful friend</p> + + <p>When the hated Austrian yoke bowed your neck. Did + you invoke</p> + + <p class="i2">The pompous Prussian then your captivity + to end?</p> + + <p class="i4"><i>Pst!</i> Just a moment, dear.</p> + + <p>I've a word or two to say it were worth your while + to hear.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Ah! A hasty glance she throws o'er her shoulder. But + for those</p> + + <p class="i2">Big, blonde, burly bullies twain, I could + win her, I am sure;</p> + + <p>For my manners all girls praise, and I have such + winning ways,</p> + + <p class="i2">And my lips, for kisses made, are for + love a lasting lure.</p> + + <p class="i4"><i>Pst!</i> How those two stride on,</p> + + <p>Without a glance at me! Do they think the game is + won?</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Hrumph! The Bear, although polite, is as + pertinacious, quite,</p> + + <p class="i2">As the tactless Teuton pig. I'll yet + spoil their little game.</p> + + <p>Triple Alliance? Fudge! If that girl is a good + judge,</p> + + <p class="i2">She will make a third with Me and my + latest Gallic "flame."</p> + + <p class="i4"><i>Pst!</i> Come along with me,</p> + + <p>My dark Italian <i>belle</i>! We shall make a lovely + Three!</p> + </div> + </div> + + <p class="author">[<i>Left making signs.</i></p> + <hr /> + + <p>ACCI-DENTAL QUERY.—Let me ask the <i>Patres + Conscripti</i> of our Academy Royal, why Dentists are not + admitted A.R.A. <i>ex officio</i>. We have all for ever so + long, since the memory of the oldest JOE MILLER, which runneth + not to the contrary, known that Dentists drew teeth. But they + nowadays add to their accomplishments by painting gums. The + other day a friend of ours had a gum beautifully painted by a + Dentist-artist in a certain Welbeck Street studio. It was a + wonderful gathering; our friend in the chair.</p> + <hr /> + + <h3>The Old Joe and the New.</h3> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>To the humorous mind of a cynical cast,</p> + + <p class="i2">Party change many matters for mirth + affords;</p> + + <p>But of all the big jokes, we've the biggest at + last,</p> + + <p class="i2">In CHAMBERLAIN's backing the House of + Lords!</p> + + <p>They toil not, nor spin? That's a very old jeer!</p> + + <p><i>Won't</i> the Lilies take back seats when JOE is + a Peer?</p> + </div> + </div> + <hr /> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page211" + id="page211"></a>[pg 211]</span> + + <div class="figcenter" + style="width:100%;"> + <a href="images/211.png"><img width="100%" + src="images/211.png" + alt="TRYING IT ON!" /></a> + + <h3>TRYING IT ON!</h3>RUSSIA. "SS—S—T! + (<i>Whispers.</i>) I WANT TO SPEAK TO YOU, MY DEAR!" + </div> + <hr /> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page213" + id="page213"></a>[pg 213]</span> + + <div class="figcenter" + style="width:67%;"> + <a href="images/213-1.png"><img width="100%" + src="images/213-1.png" + alt="'LISTEN TO MY TALE OF WOA!'" /></a> + + <h3>"LISTEN TO MY TALE OF WOA!"</h3>(<i>Not much Gaiety + about it.</i>) + </div> + <hr /> + + <h2>TO MY LORD ADDINGTON.</h2> + + <blockquote class="note"> + <p>[Lord ADDINGTON, speaking recently at a Harvest + Festival, said, "If he were a labourer, and saw a rabbit + nibbling his cabbages, he would go for that rabbit with the + first thing at hand." (<i>Enthusiastic + cheers.</i>)—<i>Daily News</i>.]</p> + </blockquote> + + <div class="figright" + style="width:33%;"> + <a href="images/213-2.png"><img width="100%" + src="images/213-2.png" + alt="" /></a> + </div> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Lord ADDINGTON, most wonderful</p> + + <p class="i2">Of people-pleasing peers,</p> + + <p>You certainly contrived to raise</p> + + <p class="i2">"Enthusiastic cheers."</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>The villagers come flocking in</p> + + <p class="i2">From all the country through,</p> + + <p>To hear Your Lordship speak his mind</p> + + <p class="i2">And tell them what to do.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>You did it well, you told them how</p> + + <p class="i2">You'd have them understand</p> + + <p>A lucky chance has made you own</p> + + <p class="i2">A quantity of land.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Though very fond of shooting, yet</p> + + <p class="i2">Your love of shooting stops</p> + + <p>At letting rabbits have their way</p> + + <p class="i2">At decimating crops.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>And so, if you a labourer were,</p> + + <p class="i2">(The which of course you're not),</p> + + <p>And saw a rabbit in your ground</p> + + <p class="i2">A-nibbling—on the spot</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>You'd go for him with spade or fork,</p> + + <p class="i2">At which, so it appears,</p> + + <p>There rang throughout the crowded room</p> + + <p class="i2">"Enthusiastic cheers."</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>A Peer's advice is always good,</p> + + <p class="i2">So doubtless they will grab + it,—</p> + + <p><i>But</i> no one will be happier than</p> + + <p class="i2">The cabbage-nibbling rabbit!</p> + </div> + </div> + <hr /> + + <h3>A LITTLE STRANGER.</h3> + + <blockquote class="note"> + <p>["At the meeting of the Bermondsey Vestry, the Medical + Officer reported that water drawn from the service-pipe of + a house in the Jamaica Road, had been submitted to him. The + water was clear, but it contained a live + horse-leech."—<i>Daily Paper</i>.]</p> + </blockquote> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Oh, into our domestic pipes</p> + + <p class="i2">They crawl and creep by stealth,</p> + + <p>The gruesome creatures known unto</p> + + <p class="i2">An Officer of Health!</p> + + <p>Harken to him of Bermondsey,</p> + + <p class="i2">Think what his murmurings teach,</p> + + <p>"The water seemed quite limpid, + <i>but</i>—</p> + + <p class="i2">It did contain a Leech!"</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>The service-pipe was sound and good</p> + + <p class="i2">In the Jamaica Road;</p> + + <p>The cistern there had harboured ne'er</p> + + <p class="i2">Microbe, or newt, or toad;</p> + + <p>No clearer water softly laved</p> + + <p class="i2">A coral island beach;</p> + + <p>So thought the householder, until—</p> + + <p class="i2">He found that awful Leech!</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Perchance he was a temperance foe</p> + + <p class="i2">To alcoholic drink,</p> + + <p>And from all dalliance with Bung</p> + + <p class="i2">Did scrupulously shrink.</p> + + <p>Yet now to forms of fluid sin</p> + + <p class="i2">He'll cotton, all and each;</p> + + <p>He does not like such liquors, <i>but</i>—</p> + + <p class="i2">Prefers them to a Leech!</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Our pipes will not be pipes of peace</p> + + <p class="i2">If such things hap, I trow;</p> + + <p>And as for Water Trusts, 'tis hard</p> + + <p class="i2">To trust in water now.</p> + + <p>Oh, Co. of Southwark and Vauxhall,</p> + + <p class="i2">We ratepayers beseech,</p> + + <p>Double your filtering charges, <i>but</i>—</p> + + <p class="i2">Remove the loathly Leech!</p> + </div> + </div> + <hr /> + + <h2>OUR BOOKING-OFFICE.</h2> + + <div class="figright" + style="width:33%;"> + <a href="images/213-3.png"><img width="100%" + src="images/213-3.png" + alt="" /></a> + </div> + + <p>There is a judicial review of GEORGE MEREDITH's work in the + <i>Quarterly</i> for October—masterly, too, quoth the + Baron, as striking a balance between effect and defect, and + finding so much to be duly said in high praise of the diffuse + and picturesquely-circumnavigating Novelist through whose + labyrinthine pages the simple Baron finds it hard to thread his + way, and yet keep the clue. When the unskippingly conscientious + peruser of GEORGE M.'s novels is most desirous that the author + shall go ahead, GEORGE, like an Irish cardriver, will stop to + "discoorse us," and at such length, and so diffusely, and with + such a wealth of eccentric word-coming and grammar-dodging, + that at last the Baron gasps, choked by the rolling billows of + sonorously booming or boomingly sonorous words, battles with + the waves, ducks, and comes up again breathlessly, wondering + where he may be, and what it was all about. "Story! God bless + you, I haven't much to tell, Sir!" says the luxuriantly + fanciful novel-grinder. And he hasn't much, it must be owned, + for essenced it would go into half a volume, or less, and all + over and above is pot-fuls of rich colour, spilt about almost + at haphazard, permutations and combinations, giving the effect + of genius. Which—genius it is; but a little of it goes a + great way, in fact, a very great way, wandering and straying + until at length the Baron calls for his <i>Richard Feverel</i>, + and says, "This is the best that GEORGE MEREDITH has written, + as sure as my name is</p> + + <p class="author">"THE BARON DE BOOK-WORMS."</p> + <hr /> + + <h3>Bard v. Bard.</h3> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>There was a poor Poet named CLOUGH,</p> + + <p>Poet SWINBURNE declares he wrote stuff.</p> + + <p class="i4">Ah, well, <i>he</i> is dead!</p> + + <p class="i4">'Tis the living are fed,</p> + + <p>By log-rollers, on butter and puff.</p> + </div> + </div> + <hr /> + + <p>A SUGGESTION.—In a new poetical play at the Opera + Comique there is a good deal of hide-and-seek. It might have + had a second title, and been appropriately called <i>The + Queen's Room; or, Secret Passages in the Life of Mary + Stuart</i>.</p> + <hr /> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page214" + id="page214"></a>[pg 214]</span> + + <div class="figcenter" + style="width:100%;"> + <a href="images/214.png"><img width="100%" + src="images/214.png" + alt="STREET IMPROVEMENTS." /></a> + + <h3>STREET IMPROVEMENTS.</h3> + + <p>["If we really used the Thames Embankment sensibly and + liberally, it would abound with handsome shops and cheerful + cafés a and volksgartens, with newspaper kiosks and long + lines of bookstalls."—<i>Daily Telegraph</i>, Oct. + 21.]</p> + </div> + <hr /> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page215" + id="page215"></a>[pg 215]</span> + + <h3>BLENDIMUS!</h3> + + <p>"Water, water everywhere" in the <i>Times</i> recently, + except when Messrs. GILBEY wrote their annual, and this time + hopeful, account of the Claret vintage, and when subsequently + Messrs. "P. and G."—(who on earth are "P. and + G."?)—with a few modest lines at the foot of a page, last + Wednesday, enlivened our drooping spirits with a brief but + satisfactory account of Champagne Prospects. If the vintages of + '86 and '87 are good, and those of '90 and '91 poor, why not + make a blend? and why not sell it as such? Let "P. and + G."—[confound it! who on earth can P. and G. be? "P. and + J." would be "Punch and Judy"—and, by the way, in the + choice <i>Lingua Tuscana</i>, "P. and G." would stand for + "<i>Poncio è Giulia</i>." But, on the other hand, who, + unauthorised, would dare to use this signature? No + matter—where were we?—ah!—to resume.] Let "P. + and G.," whoe'er they be—which is rhyme, though not so + intended—(but why this masquerade in initials?)—let + them exploit a "Blend of '90-cum-'86 and '91-cum-'87," sell it + as such—viz., The "P. and G. Blend," or "The Punchius and + Giulia Blend"—at a reasonable figure, and thus the + Not-quite-up-to-the-mark vintages will be saved. Have we not + seen in City partnerships how a strong house saves a failing + one, and then the Blends go on successfully? Let "P. and G." + give us a first-rate Champagne, call it, say, The "G.B.," or + "Golden Blend," at a reasonable price, and, to drop once again + into poetry, No matter what their name may be, We'll ever bless + our P. and G.!<a id="footnotetag2" + name="footnotetag2"></a><a href="#footnote2"><sup>2</sup></a></p> + + <blockquote class="footnote"> + <a id="footnote2" + name="footnote2"></a><b>Footnote 2:</b> + <a href="#footnotetag2">(return)</a> + + <p>"P. and G." might stand for "Pay-for-it and Get-it," or + "Pour-it and Guzzle-it." A Correspondent has suggested that + solution of the initial problem might possibly be found in + the names of Pommery and Gre'—No! So common-place a + suggestion is evidently, and on the face of it, absurd. Not + in this spirit did the Pickwick Club treat the celebrated + inscription on the stone that so puzzled the + antiquarians.</p> + </blockquote> + <hr /> + + <div class="figcenter" + style="width:65%;"> + <a href="images/215.png"><img width="100%" + src="images/215.png" + alt="SPORT!" /></a> + + <h3>SPORT!</h3> + + <p><i>Cockney Sportsman</i> (<i>eager, but + disappointed</i>). "I SAY, MY BOY, SEEN ANY BIRDS THIS + WAY?"</p> + + <p>'<i>Cute Rustic (likewise anxious to make a bag).</i> + "OH, A RARE LOT, GUV'NOR—A RARE LOT—JUST FLEW + OVER THIS 'ERE 'EDGE, AND SETTLED IN THAT 'ERE FIELD, CLOSE + TO SQUIRE BLANK'S RICKS."</p> + + <p>[<i>Grateful Cockney Sportsman tips boy a shilling, and + goes hopefully after ... a flock of Starlings!</i></p> + </div> + <hr /> + + <h2>CAUGHT BY THE CLASSICS.</h2> + + <h4>(<i>The Record of a Ruined Life.</i>)</h4> + + <p>AUGUSTUS SPARKLER was an exceptionally brilliant man. At + school he had done marvellously well, and if he did not + distinguish himself at either of the Universities, it was less + his fault than his misfortune. When he entered the world, after + casting off parental control, he took up Medicine. He was a + great success. He rose by leaps and bounds, until at length it + was thought highly probable that he would be elected President + of the Royal College of Physicians. He was sounded upon the + subject, and a question was put to him.</p> + + <p>"No," he replied, sorrowfully, and then the courteous + Secretary informed him, with tears in his voice, that he feared + he was disqualified.</p> + + <p>"Well, I will enter the Navy."</p> + + <p>He did. He passed through the <i>Britannia</i>, and rose by + leaps and bounds, until it was considered desirable to revive + the post of Lord High Admiral for his acceptance. But before + this was done, he was sounded upon the subject, and asked a + question.</p> + + <p>"No," he again answered, regretfully.</p> + + <p>"I am afraid then, that the scheme must be abandoned," + returned the First Civil Lord (he had been chosen as more + polite than his sea colleagues), and he was almost moved to + tears in his sadness.</p> + + <p>"I will enter the Army," cried AUGUSTUS, with + determination.</p> + + <p>And he did. He rose from the ranks in less than no time to + become a Field Marshal. It was then that a certain Illustrious + Personage asked him if he would like to become + Commander-in-Chief.</p> + + <p>"It is not impossible I might resign in your favour," said + the I.P. And then he asked him the necessary question.</p> + + <p>"No, Sir," returned AUGUSTUS, bowing down his head in shame. + Again he found that his career was interrupted.</p> + + <p>"I will try the Bar," he shouted.</p> + + <p>And he did. He entered at Gray's Inn, and in a very short + time became a Q.C., a Judge, and a Lord Justice. Then the + entire Ministry begged him, as a personal favour, to accept the + post of Lord Chancellor.</p> + + <p>"With pleasure," was his modest rejoinder. Then he + remembered that he had been asked a certain question on + previous occasions, and explained matters.</p> + + <p>"I am afraid you won't do," cried the entire Ministry, + mournfully.</p> + + <p>"Well, then, I will try the Church."</p> + + <p>And he tried the Church. He became an eminent divine. Every + one spoke well of him; and when, in due course, the Primacy of + all England was vacant, he was asked to accept it. Again he + explained matters.</p> + + <p>"No!" shouted all the Deans and Chapters.</p> + + <p>"You can't mean it!" cried the entire body of + Archdeacons.</p> + + <p>"Well, I never!" exclaimed every other ecclesiastical + authority. But it could not be, and the disappointment was too + much for poor AUGUSTUS, and he died of grief.</p> + + <p>And so they put on the tombstone, that he would have been + President of the Royal College of Physicians, Lord High + Admiral, Commander-in-Chief, Lord Chancellor, and Archbishop of + Canterbury, if—<i>he had only learned Greek!</i></p> + <hr /> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page216" + id="page216"></a>[pg 216]</span> + + <h2>LETTERS TO ABSTRACTIONS.</h2> + + <h3>No. V.—TO GUSH.</h3> + + <p>MY DEAREST DARLING PERSON,</p> + + <p>How sweet and amiable of you to allow a humble being like + myself to write to you. Dropping your own special style (which, + to be perfectly frank with you, I could no more continue + through the whole of this letter than I could dine off treacle + and butter-scotch), I beg to say that I am heartily glad to + have this opportunity of telling you a few things which have + been on my mind for a long time. In what corner of the great + realm of abstractions do you make your home? I imagine you + whiling away the hours on some soft couch of imitation down, + with a little army of sweet but irrelevant smiles ready at all + times to do your bidding. You are refined, I am sure. You + cultivate sympathy as some men cultivate orchids, until it + blooms and luxuriates in the strangest and gaudiest shapes. + Your real face is known of no other abstraction; indeed, you + never see it yourself, so well-fitted and so constant is the + mask through which you waft the endearments which have caused + you to be avoided everywhere. This, I admit, is imagination; + but is it very far from the truth? Perhaps I ask in vain, for + truth is the very last thing that may be expected of you and of + those who do your bidding upon earth. I will not, therefore, + press the question, but proceed at once to business.</p> + + <div class="figright" + style="width:28%;"> + <a href="images/216-1.png"><img width="100%" + src="images/216-1.png" + alt="" /></a> + </div> + + <p>About a month ago I met your friend, ALGERNON JESSAMY. What + is there about ALGERNON that inspires such distrust? He is very + presentable; some people have gone so far as to call him + absolutely good-looking. He is tall, his figure is good, his + clothes fit him admirably, and are always speckless; his + features are regular, his complexion fresh, and his fair hair, + carefully parted in the middle, lies like a smooth and shining + lid upon his head. I pass over all his remaining advantages, + whether of dress or of nature. It is enough to say that, thus + equipped, and with the additional merits of wealth and a good + position, ALGERNON ought to have found no difficulty in being + one of the most popular men in town. Perhaps he would have been + if he had not tried with such a persistent energy to make + himself "so deuced agreeable." The phrase is not mine, but that + of SAMMY MIGGS, who has a contempt for ALGERNON and his + methods, which he never attempts to conceal.</p> + + <p>"ALGY, my boy," I have heard him say, while the unfortunate + JESSAMY smiled uneasily, and shifted on his seat, "ALGY, my + boy, I've known you too long to give in to any of your + nonsense. All that butter of yours is wasted here, so you'd + better keep it for someone who likes it. Try it on QUISBY," he + continued, indicating the celebrated actor, who was at that + moment frowning furiously over a notice of his latest + performance; "he loves it in firkins, and I'll undertake to say + you'll never get to the bottom of his swallowing capacity. + You'll have to exhaust even your stock, ALGY, my boy; and + that's saying a lot."</p> + + <p>So thoroughly uncomfortable did the suave and gentle + ALGERNON look, that I afterwards ventured to remonstrate mildly + with the gadfly MIGGS.</p> + + <p>"What?" he said, "made him uncomfortable, did I? And a jolly + good job too. Bless you, I know the beggar through and through. + I wasn't at Oxford with him for nothing. Wish I had been. He's + the sort of chap who loses no end of I.O.U.'s at cards one + night, and when he wins piles of ready the next never offers to + redeem them. You let me alone about ALGY. I tell you I know + him. There's no bigger humbug in Christendom with all his soft + sawder and gas about everybody being the dearest and cleverest + fellow he's ever met. Bah!"</p> + + <p>And therewith SAMMY left me, evidently smarting under some + ancient sore inflicted by the apparently angelic ALGERNON.</p> + + <p>However, this little incident was not the one I intended to + narrate. I met ALGY, as I said, about a month ago. It was in + Piccadilly. At first, as I approached, I thought he did not see + me, but suddenly he seemed to become aware of my presence. An + electric thrill of joy ran through him, a smile of heavenly + welcome irradiated his face, he darted towards me with both + hands stretched out and almost fell round my neck before all + the astonished cabmen.</p> + + <p>"My dear, dear fellow," he gasped, apparently struggling + hard with an overpowering emotion, "this is almost too much. To + think that I should meet the one man of all others whom I have + been literally longing to see. Now you simply must walk with me + for a bit. I can't afford to let you go without having a good + talk with you. It always refreshes me so to hear your opinions + of men and things."</p> + + <p>Ignoring my assurance that I had an important appointment to + keep, he linked his arm closely in mine and dragged me with him + in the direction from which I had come. How he pattered and + chattered and flattered. He daubed me over with flattery as I + have seen bill-stickers brush a hoarding over with paste. Never + in my life had I felt so small, so mean and such a perfect + fool, for though I own I have no objection to an occasional + lollipop of praise, I must say I loathe it in lumps the size of + a jelly-fish. Yet such is the fare on which JESSAMY compels me + to subsist. And the annoying part of it was that every lump + which he crammed down my throat contained an inferential + compliment to himself, which I was forced either to accept, or + in declining it to appear a churl. I was never more churlish, + never less satisfied with myself. Amongst other things we spoke + of the affairs of "The Dustheap," a little Club of which we + were both members. JESSAMY opined it was going to the dogs. + "Just look," he said, "at the men they've got on the Committee; + mere nobodies. I've always wondered why you are not on it. Men + like you and me wouldn't make the ridiculous mistakes the + present lot are constantly making. Fancy their electing + MUMPLEY, a regular outsider, without enough manners for a + school-boy. I really don't care about being in the same room + with him." At this very moment, by one of those curious + coincidences which invariably happen, the abused MUMPLEY + himself, a wealthy but otherwise inoffensive stockbroker, hove + in sight. "There comes the brute himself," said JESSAMY; and in + another moment his arms were round MUMPLEY's neck, and he was + protesting, with all the fervour of a heartfelt conviction, + that MUMPLEY was the one man of all others for whom his heart + had been yearning. That being so, I left them together, and + departed to my business.</p> + + <p>Now does JESSAMY imagine that that kind of thing makes him a + favourite? It must be admitted that he is not very artistic in + his methods; and I fancy he must sometimes perceive, if I may + use a homely phrase, that he doesn't go down. But the poor + beggar can't help himself. He is driven by a force which he + finds it impossible to resist into the cruel snares that are + spread for the over-amiable. You, my dear GUSH, are that force, + and to you, therefore, the sugary JESSAMY owes his failure to + win the appreciation which he courts so ardently.</p> + + <p>And now I think I have relieved my mind of a sufficient load + for the time being. If I can remember anything else that might + interest you, you may count upon me to address you again. + Permit me in the meantime to subscribe myself with all proper + curtness,</p> + + <p class="author">Yours. &c.<br /> + DIOGENES ROBINSON.</p> + <hr /> + + <h3>"THE PRODIGY SON."</h3> + + <div class="figright" + style="width:20%;"> + <a href="images/216-2.png"><img width="100%" + src="images/216-2.png" + alt="Much put out." /></a>Much put out. + </div> + + <p>Sir,—I have not seen <i>Pamela's Prodigy</i>, but I + have just read the criticism in the <i>Times</i>, which says of + it, "It must be regarded either as a boyish effusion or a sorry + joke." The criticism then points out how it lacks "wit, humour, + literary skill," and apparently is wanting in everything that + goes to make a successful play,—everything that is, + except the actors. Mrs. JOHN WOOD was in it: she is a host in + herself: not only a host, but the Manageress of the theatre + who, with her partner in the business, is responsible for the + selection of pieces. Now granting the critic to be + right—and, on referring to others, I find a + <i>consensus</i> of opinion backing him up—at whose door + lies the responsibility of having deliberately selected a + failure? Under what compulsion could so clever and experienced + an autocrat, sharp as a needle and with the "heye of an 'awk" + in theatrical matters, as Mrs. JOHN WOOD, have made so fatal a + mistake—that is, if the critics are right, and if it be a + mistake? "<i>To err, is human</i>"—and, including even + Mrs. JOHN WOOD, and the critics, we are all human,—"<i>To + forgive, divine</i>"—the critics not being divine could + not forgive; the public apparently, did forgive—and, + will, of course, forget. 'Tis all very well to fall foul of the + unhappy author—whom we will not name—<i>after</i> + the event; but why was the piece ever chosen, and why was not + the discovery of its unfitness made during rehearsal? No! "as + long as the world goes round" these things will happen in the + best regulated theatres, and experience is apparently no sort + of guide in such matters.—Yours faithfully,</p> + + <p class="author">"NOT THERE, NOT THERE, MY CHILD!"</p> + <hr /> + + <p><font size="+1">☞</font> NOTICE.—Rejected + Communications or Contributions, whether MS., Printed Matter, + Drawings, or Pictures of any description, will in no case be + returned, not even when accompanied by a Stamped and Addressed + Envelope, Cover, or Wrapper. To this rule there will be no + exception.</p> + <hr class="full" /> + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Punch, or The London Charivari, Volume +101, October 31, 1891, by Various + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PUNCH *** + +***** This file should be named 15442-h.htm or 15442-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/1/5/4/4/15442/ + +Produced by Malcolm Farmer, William Flis, and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team. + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Punch, or The London Charivari, Volume 101, October 31, 1891 + +Author: Various + +Editor: Francis Burnand + + +Release Date: March 23, 2005 [EBook #15442] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PUNCH *** + + + + +Produced by Malcolm Farmer, William Flis, and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team. + + + + + +PUNCH, + +OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. + +VOL. 101. + + + +October 31, 1891. + + + + +YOUNG GRANDOLPH'S BARTY. + +(_Afrikander Version of the great Breitmann Ballad, penned, "more +in sorrow than in anger," by a "Deutscher" resident in the distant +regions where the Correspondent of the "Daily Graphic" is, like der +Herr Breitmann himself, "drafellin' apout like eferydings._") + +[Illustration: (Y)] + + Young GRANDOLPH hat a Barty-- + Vhere is dat Barty now? + He fell'd in luf mit der African goldt; + Mit SOLLY he'd hat a row; + He dinks dat his secession + Would make der resht look plue, + But, before he drafel vast and var, + His Barty sphlit in two. + + Young GRANDOLPH hat a Barty-- + Dere vash B-LF-R, W-LFF, and G-RST, + Dey haf vorgot deir "Leater," + Und dat ish not deir vorst. + B-LF-R vill "boss" der Commons, + Vhile GRANDOLPH--sore disgraced-- + Ish "oop a tree," like der Bumble Bee, + Und W-LFF and G-RST are "placed." + + Young GRANDOLPH hat a Barty-- + Vhen he dat Barty led, + B-LF-R vash but a "Bummer," + A loafing lollop-head. + Young Tories schvore by GRANDOLPH, + (Dey schvear _at_ GRANDOLPH now,) + Now at de feet of der "lank aesthete" + Der _Times_ itshelf doth bow! + + Young GRANDOLPH hat a Barty, + Dere all vash "Souse und Brouse."[1] + Now he hets not dat prave gompany + All in der Commons House, + To see _him_ skywgle GL-DST-NE, + Und schlog him on der kop. + Young Tory bloods no longer shout + Till der SCHPEAKER bids dem shtop. + + Und, like dat Rhine Mermaiden + "Vot hadn't got nodings on," + Dey "don't dink mooch of beoplesh + Vat goes mit demselfs alone!" + + Young GRANDOLPH _hat_ a Barty-- + Where ish dat Barty now? + Where ish dat oder ARTHUR's song + Vot darkened der Champerlain's prow? + Where ish de himmelstrahlende stern, + De shtar of der Tory fight? + All gon'd afay, as on Woodcock's wing, + Afay in de ewigkeit! + + Young GRANDOLPH hat a Barty; + He hunt der lions now, + All in der lone Mashonaland, + But he does not "score"--somehow. + One Grand Old Lion he dared to peard, + Und he "potted" Earls and Dukes, + But eight or nine real lions at once, + He thinks are "_trop de luxe_" + + Young GRANDOLPH hat a Barty, + But he scooted 'cross der sea, + Und he tidn't say to dem, "Come, my poys, + Und drafel along mit me!" + +[Footnote 1: _Saus und Braus_--Ger., Riot and Bustle.] + + * * * * * + + +"CORRECT CARD, GENTS!"--"Wanted a Map of London" was the heading of +a letter in the _Times_ last Thursday. No, Sir! that's not what is +wanted. There are hundreds of 'em, specially seductive pocket ones, +with just the very streets that one wants to discover as short cuts +to great centres carefully omitted. What _is_ wanted is a _correct_ +map of London, divided into pocketable sections, portable, foldable, +durable, on canvas,--but if imperfect, as so many of these small +pocket catch-shilling ones are just now, although professedly +brought up to date '91, they are worse than useless, and to purchase +one is a waste of time, temper and money. We could mention an +attractive-looking little map--which, but no-- Publishers and public +are hereby cautioned! N.B.--Test well your pocket map through a +magnifying glass before buying. _Experto crede!_ + + * * * * * + +OYSTERLESS. + +(_BY AN IMPECUNIOUS GOURMET_.) + + [Oysters are very dear, and are likely, as the season + advances, to be still higher in price.] + +[Illustration] + + Oh, Oyster mine! Oh, Oyster mine! + You're still as exquisitely nice; + With perfect pearly tints you shine, + But you are such an awful price. + The lemon and the fresh cayenne, + Brown bread and butter and the stout + Are here, and just the same, but then + What if I have to leave you out? + + What wonder that my spirits droop, + That life can bring me no delight, + When I must give up oyster soup, + So softly delicately white. + The curry powder stands anear, + The scallop shells, but what care I-- + You're so abominably dear, + O Oyster! that I cannot buy. + + With sad imaginative flights, + I think upon the days of yore; + Like TICKLER, on Ambrosian nights, + I have consumed them by the score. + And still, whenever you appeared, + My pride it was to use you well; + I let the juice play round your beard, + And always on the hollow shell. + + I placed you in the fair lark-pie. + With steak and kidneys too, of course; + Your ancestors were glad to die, + So well I made the oyster sauce. + I had you stewed and featly fried, + And dipped in batter--think of that; + And, as a pleasant change, I've tried + You, skewered in rows, with bacon-fat. + + "Where art thou, ALICE?" cried the bard. + "Where art thou, Oyster?" I exclaim. + It really is extremely hard, + To know thee nothing but a name. + For this is surely torment worse + Than DANTE heaped upon his dead;-- + To find thee quite beyond my purse, + And so go oysterless to bed. + + * * * * * + +_A PROPOS_ OF THE SECRETARY FOR WAR'S ROSEATE AFTER--DINNER +SPEECH (_on the entirely satisfactory state of the Army +generally_).--(STAN-)"HOPE told a flattering tale." + + * * * * * + +UNIVERSITY MEM.--The Dean of Christ Church will keep his seat till +Christmas, and just a LIDDELL longer. + + * * * * * + +THE RAVEN. + +(_Very Latest War-Office Version. See Mr. Stanhope's After-Dinner +Speech at the Holborn Restaurant (Oct. 17), and Letter in "Times" +(Oct. 21) on "Pangloss at the War Office."_) + +[Illustration] + +_Secretarial Pangloss sings:_-- + + Late, upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, tired but cheery, + Over many an optimistic record of War Office lore; + Whilst I worked, assorting, mapping, suddenly there came a tapping, + As of someone rudely rapping, rapping at my Office-door. + "Some late messenger," I muttered, "tapping at my Office-door-- + Only this, but it's a bore." + + I remember--being sober--it was in the chill October, + Light from the electric globe or horseshoe lighted wall and floor; + Also that it was the morrow of the Holborn Banquet; sorrow + From the Blue Books croakers borrow--sorrow for the days of yore, + For the days when "_Rule Britannia_" sounded far o'er sea and shore. + Ah! it _must_ have been a bore! + + But on that let's draw the curtain. I am simply cock-sure--certain + That "our splendid little Army" never was so fine before. + It will take a lot of beating! Such remarks I keep repeating; + They come handy--after eating, and are always sure to score-- + Dash that rapping chap entreating entrance at my Office-door! + It is an infernal bore! + + Presently I grew more placid (Optimists should not be acid.) + "Come in!" I exclaimed--"con_found_ you! Pray stand drumming there + no more." + But the donkey still kept tapping. "Dolt!" I muttered, sharply + snapping, + "Why the deuce do you come rapping, rapping at my Office-door? + Yet not 'enter' when you're told to?"--here I opened wide the door-- + Darkness there, and nothing more. + + Open next I flung the shutter, when, with a prodigious flutter, + In there stepped a bumptious Raven, black as any blackamoor. + Not the least obeisance made he, not a moment stopped or stayed he, + But with scornful look, though shady, perched above my Office-door, + Perched upon BRITANNIA's bust that stood above my Office-door-- + Perched, and sat, and seemed to snore. + + "Well," I said, sardonic smiling, "this is really rather riling; + "It comports not with decorum such as the War Office bore + In old days stiff and clean-shaven. Dub me a Gladstonian craven + If I ever saw a Raven at the W.O. before. + Tell me what your blessed name is. '_Rule Britannia_' held of yore," + Quoth the bird, "'Tis so no more!" + + Much I marvelled this sophistic fowl to utter pessimistic + Fustian, which so little meaning--little relevancy bore + To the rule of me and SOLLY; but, although it may sound folly, + This strange fowl a strange resemblance to "Our Only General" wore, + To the W-LS-L-Y whose pretensions to sound military lore + Are becoming quite a bore. + + But the Raven, sitting lonely on that much-peeled bust, spake only + Of our Army as a makeshift, small, ill-manned, and precious poor. + Drat the pessimistic bird!--he grumbled of "the hurdy-gurdy + Marching-past side of a soldier's life in peace." "We've fought + before, + Winning battles with boy-troops," I cried, "We'll do as we before--" + Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore!" + + "Nonsense!" said I. "After dinner at the Holborn, as a winner + Spake I in the _Pangloss_ spirit to the taxpayers, (_Don't_ snore!) + Told them our recruits--who'll master e'en unmerciful disaster, + Come in fast and come in faster, quite as good as those of yore,"-- + "Flattering tales of (Stan) Hope!" cried the bird, whose dismal + dirges bore, + One dark burden--"Nevermore!" + + "Hang it, Raven, this _is_ riling!" cried I. "Stop your rude + reviling!" + Then I wheeled my office-chair in front of bird and bust and door; + And upon its cushion sinking, "I," I said, "will smash like winking + This impeachment you are bringing, O you ominous bird of yore, + O you grim, ungainly, ghastly, grumbling, gruesome feathered bore!" + Croaked the Raven, "You I'll floor." + + Then methought the bird looked denser, and his cheek became + immenser. + And he twaddled of VON MOLTKE, and his German Army Corps; + "Flattering the tax-payers' vanity," and much similar insanity, + In a style that lacked urbanity, till the thing became a bore. + "Oh, get out of it!" I cried; "our little Army yet will score." + Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore!" + + "Prophet!" said I, "of all evil, that we're 'going to the devil' + Has been the old croaker's gospel for a century, and more. + Red-gilled Colonels this have chaunted in BRITTANIA's ears + undaunted, + By their ghosts you must he haunted. Take a Blue-pill, I implore! + When our Army meets the foe it's bound to lick him as of yore!" + Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore! + + "Prophet!" said I, "that's uncivil. You may go to--well, the devil! + That Establishments are 'short,' and 'standards' lowered o'er and + o'er. + That mere 'weeds,' with chests of maiden, cannot march with + knapsack laden; + That the heat of sultry Aden, or the cold of Labrador, + Such can't stand, _may_ be the truth; but keep it dark, bird, I + implore!" + Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore!" + + "Then excuse me, we'll be parting, doleful fowl," I cried, + upstarting; + "Get thee back to--the Red River, or the Nile's sand-cumbered shore! + Leave no 'Magazine' as token of the twaddle you have spoken. + What? BRITANNIA stoney-broken? Quit her bust above my door. + Take thy hook from the War Office; take thy beak from off my door!" + Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore!" + + And the Raven still is sitting, croaking statements most unfitting, + On BRITANNIA's much-peeled bust that's placed above my Office-door, + And if _Pangloss_, e'en in seeming, lent an ear to his dark + dreaming, + Useless were official scheming, grants of millions by the score, + For my soul were like the shadow that he casts upon the floor, + Dark and dismal evermore! + + * * * * * + +[Illustration: THINGS ONE WOULD RATHER HAVE EXPRESSED DIFFERENTLY. + +_Aunt Jane_. "THAT MAKES THREE WEDDINGS IN OUR FAMILY WITHIN A +TWELVEMONTH! IT WILL BE _YOUR_ TURN NEXT, MATILDA!" + +_Matilda_. "OH, NO!" + +_Aunt Jane_. "WELL, THE MOST EXTRAORDINARY THINGS HAPPEN SOMETIMES, +YOU KNOW!"] + + * * * * * + +TUPPER'S PROVERBIAL PHILOSOPHY UP TO DATE. + + ["The range of our inquiry was intended to include the whole + migratory range for seals.... Our movements were kept most + secret."--_Sir George Baden-Powell on the Work of the Behring + Sea Commission_.] + + We came, we saw, we--held our tongues (myself--BADEN-POWELL--and + Mr. DAWSON.) + We popped on each seal-island "unbeknownst," and what we + discovered we held our jaws on. + We'd five hundred interviews within three months, which I think + "cuts the record" in interviewing, + Corresponded with 'Frisco, Japan, and Russia; so I hope you'll + allow we've been "up and doing." + (Not up and _saying_, be't well understood). As TUPPER (the + Honourable C.H., Minister + Of Fisheries) said, in the style of his namesake, "The fool + imagines all Silence is sinister, + "But the wise man knows that it's often dexterous." Be sure no + inquisitive shyness or bounce'll + Make us "too previous" with our Report, which goes first to the + QUEEN and the Privy Council. + Some bigwig's motto is, "Say and Seal," but as TUPPER remarked a + forefinger laying + To the dexter side of a fine proboscis, "Our motto at present is, + Seal _without_ saying!" + + * * * * * + +LEGAL QUERY.--The oldest of the thirteen Judges on the Scotch Bench is +YOUNG. Any chance for a Junior after this? + + * * * * * + +THE TRAVELLING COMPANIONS. + +NO. XII. + + SCENE--_In front of the Hotel Bodenhaus at Spluegen. The + Diligence for Bellinzona is having its team attached. An + elderly Englishwoman is sitting on her trunk, trying to run + through the last hundred pages of a novel from the Hotel + Library before her departure. PODBURY is in the Hotel, + negotiating for sandwiches. CULCHARD is practising his + Italian upon a very dingy gentleman in smoked spectacles, with + a shawl round his throat._ + +_The Dingy Italian_ (_suddenly discovering CULCHARD's nationality_). +Ecco, siete Inglese! Lat us spika Ingelis, I onnerstan' 'im to ze +bottom-side. (_Laboriously, to CULCHARD, who tries to conceal his +chagrin._) 'Ow menni time you employ to go since Coire at here? (C. +_nods with vague encouragement_.) Vich manners of vezzer you vere +possess troo your travels--mosh ommerella? (C.'s _eyes grow vacant_.) +Ha, I _tink_ it vood! Zis day ze vicket root sall 'ave plenti 'orse +to pull, &c., &c. (_Here PODBURY comes up, and puts some rugs the_ +coupe _of the diligence._) You sit at ze beginning-end, hey? better, +you tink, zan ze mizzle? I too, zen, sall ride at ze front--we vill +spika Ingelis, altro! + +_Podb._ (_overhearing this, with horror_). One minute, CULCHARD. (_He +draws him aside._) I say, for goodness' sake, don't let's have that +old organ-grinding Johnny in the _coupe_ with _us_! + +_Culch._ Organ-grinder! you are so _very_ insular! For anything you +can tell, he may be a decayed nobleman. + +_Pod._ (_coarsely_). Well, let him decay somewhere else, that's all! +Just tell the Conductor to shove him in the _interieur_, do, while I +nip in the _coupe_ and keep our places. + +[Illustration: "An elderly Englishwoman is sitting on her trunk."] + + [_CULCHARD, on reflection, adopts this suggestion, and the + Italian Gentleman, after fluttering feebly about the_ coupe + _door, is unceremoniously bundled by the Conductor into the + hinder part of the diligence._ + +_IN THE BERNARDINO PASS, DURING THE ASCENT._ + +_Culch._ Glorious view one gets at each fresh turn of the road, +PODBURY! Look at Hinter-rhein, far down below there, like a toy +village, and that vast desolate valley, with the grey river rushing +through it, and the green glacier at the end, and these awful +snow-covered peaks all round--_look_, man! + +_Podb._ I'm looking, old chap. It's all there, right enough! + +_Culch._ (_vexed_). It doesn't seem to be making any particular +impression on you, I must say! + +_Podb._ It's making me deuced peckish, I know that--how about lunch, +eh! + +_Culch._ (_pained_). We are going through scenery like this, and all +you think of is--lunch! (_PODBURY opens a basket._) You may give me +one of those sandwiches. What made you get _veal_? and the bread's +all crust, too! Thanks, I'll take some claret.... (_They lunch; the +vehicle meanwhile toils up to the head of the Pass._) Dear me, we're +at the top already! These rocks shut out the valley altogether--much +colder at this height, eh? Don't you find this keen air most +exhilarating? + +_Podb._ (_shivering_). Oh very, do you mind putting your window up? +Thanks. You seem uncommon chirpy to-day. Beginning to get _over_ it, +eh? + +_Culch._ We shan't get over it for some hours yet. + +_Podb._ I didn't mean the Pass, I meant--(_hesitating_)--well, your +little affair with Miss PRENDERGAST, you know. + +_Culch._ My little affair? Get over? (_He suddenly understands._) Oh, +ah, to be sure. Yes, thank you, my dear fellow, it is not making me +_particularly_ unhappy. [_He goes into a fit of silent laughter._ + +_Podb._ Glad to hear it. (_To himself_.) 'Jove, if he only knew what +_I_ know! [_He chuckles._ + +_Culch._ You don't appear to be exactly heartbroken? + +_Podb._ I? why _should_ I be--about _what_? + +_Culch._ (_with an affectation of reserve_). Exactly, I was +forgetting. (_To himself_.) It's really rather humorous. (_He laughs +again._) Ha, we're beginning to go down now. Hey for Italy--la bella +Italia! (_The diligence takes the first curve._) Good Heavens, what a +turn! We're going at rather a sharp pace for downhill, eh? I suppose +these Swiss drivers know what they're about, though. + +_Podb._ Oh, yes, generally--when they're not drunk. I can only see +this fellow's boots--but they look to me a trifle squiffy. + +_Culch._ (_inspecting them, anxiously_). He does seem to drive +very recklessly. _Look_ at those leaders--heading right for the +precipice.... Ah, just saved it! How we do lurch in swinging round! + +_Podb._ Topheavy--I expect, too much luggage on board--have another +sandwich? + +_Culch._ Not for me, thanks. I say, I wonder if it's safe, having no +parapet, only these stone posts, eh? + +_Pod._ Safe enough--unless the wheel catches one--it was as near as a +toucher just then--aren't you going to smoke? No? _I_ am. By the way, +what were you so amused about just now, eh? + +_Culch._ _Was_ I amused? (_The vehicle gives another tremendous +lurch._) Really, this is _too_ horrible! + +_Podb._ (_with secret enjoyment_). We're right enough, if the horses +don't happen to stumble. That off-leader isn't over sure-footed--did +you see _that_? (_Culch. shudders._) But what's the joke about Miss +PRENDERGAST? + +_Culch._ (_irritably_). Oh, for Heaven's sake, don't bother about that +_now_. I've something else to think about. My goodness, we were nearly +over that time! What are you looking at? + +_Podb._ (_who has been leaning forward_). Only one of the +traces--they've done it up with a penny ball of string, but I daresay +it will stand the strain. You aren't _half_ enjoying the view, old +fellow. + +_Culch._ Yes, I am. Magnificent!--glorious!--isn't it? + +_Podb._ Find you see it better with your eyes shut? But I say, I wish +you'd explain what you were sniggering at. + +_Culch._ Take my advice, and don't press me, my dear fellow; you may +regret it if you do! + +_Podb._ I'll risk it. It must be a devilish funny joke to tickle you +like that. Come, out with it! + +_Culch._ Well, if you must know, I was laughing.... Oh, he'll _never_ +get those horses round in.... I was--er--rather amused by your evident +assumption that I must have been _rejected_ by Miss PRENDERGAST. + +_Podb._ Oh, was _that_ it? And you're nothing of the kind, eh? [_He +chuckles again._ + +_Culch._ (_with dignity_). No doubt you will find it very singular; +but, as a matter of fact, she--well, she most certainly did not +_discourage_ my pretensions. + +_Podb._ The deuce she didn't! Did she tell you RUSKIN's ideas about +courtship being a probation, and ask you if you were ready to be under +vow for her, by any chance? + +_Culch._ This is too bad, PODBURY; you must have been there, or you +couldn't possibly know! + +_Podb._ Much obliged, I'm sure. I don't listen behind doors, as a +general thing. I suppose, now, she set you a trial of some kind, to +prove your mettle, eh? [_With another chuckle._ + +_Culch._ (_furiously_). Take care--or I may tell you more than you +bargain for! + +_Podb._ Go on--never mind _me_. Bless you, _I'm_ under vow for her, +too, my dear boy. Fact! + +_Culch._ That's impossible, and I can prove it. The service she +demanded was, that I should leave Constance at once--with you. Do you +understand--with _you_, PODBURY! + +_Podb._ (_with a prolonged whistle_). My aunt! + +_Culch._ (_severely_). You may invoke every female relative you +possess in the world, but it won't alter the fact, and that alone +ought to convince you-- + +_Podb._ Hold on a bit. Wait till you've heard _my_ penance. She told +me to cart _you_ off, _Now_, then! + +_Culch._ (_faintly_). If I thought she'd been trifling with us both +like that, I'd never-- + +_Podb._ She's no end of a clever girl, you know. And, after all, she +may only have wanted time to make up her mind. + +_Culch._ (_violently_). I tell you _what_ she is--she's a cold-blooded +pedantic prig, and a systematic flirt! I loathe and detest a prig, but +a flirt I despise--yes, _despise_, PODBURY! + +_Podb._ (_with only apparent irrelevance_). The same to you, and many +of 'em, old chap! Hullo, we're going to stop at this inn. Let's get +out and stretch our legs and have some coffee. + + [_They do; on returning, they find the Italian Gentleman + smiling blandly at them from inside the_ coupe. + +_The It. G._ Goodaby, dear frens, a riverderla! I success at your +chairs. I vish you a pleasure's delay! + +_Podb._ But I say, look here, Sir, we're going on, and you've got our +place! + +_The It. G._ Sank you verri moch. I 'ope so. [_He blows_ PODBURY _a +kiss._ + +_Podb._ (_with intense disgust_). How on earth are we going to get +that beggar out? Set the Conductor at him, CULCHARD, do--you can talk +the lingo best! + +_Culch._ (_who has had enough of_ PODBURY _for the present_). Talk to +him yourself, my dear fellow, _I_'m not going to make a row. [_He gets +in._ + +_Podb._ (_to Conductor_). Hi! sprechen sie Franzoesisch, oder was? +_il-y-a quelque chose dans mon siege, dites-lui de_--what the deuce is +the French for "clear out"? + +_Cond._ _Montez, Monsieur, nous bartons, montez vite alors!_ + + [_He thrusts PODBURY, protesting vainly, into the interieur, + with two peasants, a priest and the elderly Englishwoman. The + diligence starts again._ + + * * * * * + +AT THE ITALIAN OPERA. + +[Illustration: Two (Covent Garden) Gentlemen of Verona!!] + +[Illustration: Exit Romeo by the Rope Ladder,--a shrewd guess at what +really happens.] + +_Tuesday, October 20th_.--Opening night. _Romeo et Juliette; debuts_ +of Mlle. SIMMONET, of the Opera Comique, and M. COSSIRA, as the +lovers. _Lady Capulet's_ Small Dance, quite the smartest of the +season, as the Veronese nobility present were evidently remarking, +with abundance of easy gesture, to one another, as they led the way to +the lemonade. The _Juliette_ of the evening charming, and soon singing +herself into the good graces of a large audience; ditto, M. COSSIRA, +"than which," as the Prophet NICHOLAS would say, "a more competent +_Romeo_--though perhaps a trifle full in the waist for balcony-scaling +by moonlight." If he had really trusted himself to that gossamer +ladder in the Fourth Act, he would never have got away to Mantua, +especially as _Juliette_, with the thoughtlessness of her age and sex, +omitted to secure it in any way. Fortunately it was not a long drop, +and the descent was accomplished without accident, as will be seen +from the accompanying sketch. + + * * * * * + +CHANGE FOR A TENOR.--Mr. SEYMOUR HADEN, the opponent of the Cremation +gospel according to THOMPSON (Sir HENRY of that ilk), should come to +an arrangement with the English Light Opera tenor, and tack COFFIN on +to his name. + + * * * * * + +ONLY FANCY! + +(_FROM MR. PUNCH'S OWN RUMOURISTS._) + +It may be interesting at this time of the year to mention the fact +that Lord SALISBURY always uses a poker in cracking walnuts. He says +it saves the silver. The other day, whilst wielding the poker across +the walnuts and the wine, Mr. GLADSTONE chanced to look in. The +Premier, with his well-known hospitality, immediately furnished +the Right Hon. Gentleman with another poker (brought in from the +drawing-room), and ordered up a fresh supply of nuts. + + * * * * * + +[Illustration] + +Mr. GLADSTONE, recurring in private conversation to a recent visit +paid by him to Lord SALISBURY in Arlington Street, questioned the +convenience of a poker as an instrument for shattering the shell of +the walnut. For himself, he says, he has always found a pair of tongs +more convenient. + + * * * * * + +The Marquis of HARTINGTON, to whom this remark was reported, +observed that as a dissentient Liberal he naturally differed from Mr. +GLADSTONE, and was not to the fullest extent able to agree with his +noble friend, the Marquis of SALISBURY. For his own part, he found +the most convenient way of cracking a walnut was deftly to place the +article in the interstice of the dining-room door, and gently close +it. He found this plan combined with its original purpose a gentle +exercise on the part of the guests highly conducive to digestion. + + * * * * * + +Two hours later, the Leader of the Opposition was seen walking up +Arlington Street, and on reaching Piccadilly, he hailed an omnibus, +observing the precaution before entering of requiring the conductor to +produce the scale of charges. "No pirate busses for _me_," the Right +Hon. Member remarked, as (omitting the oath) he took his seat. + + * * * * * + +It is no secret in official circles that before the vacancy in the +office of Postmaster-General was filled, it was placed at the disposal +of the BARON BE BOOK-WORMS. Upon Sir JAMES FERGUSSON stepping in, the +PRIME MINISTER was urgently desirous to have the collaboration of +the noble BARON at the Foreign Office. But, somehow, the post of +Under-Secretary vacated by Sir JAMES was assigned to Mr. WILLIAM JAMES +LOWTHER. + + * * * * * + +We are authorised to state that His Imperial Majesty the Emperor of +GERMANY, feeling the need of a little change, has resolved to stay at +home for a fortnight. + + * * * * * + +We are in a position to state that just prior to the General Election +of 1880, Mr. CHAMBERLAIN was observed standing before a cheval glass, +alternatively fixing his eyeglass in the right eye and in the left. +Asked why he should thus quaintly occupy his leisure moments, he +replied: "It is in view of the General Election. If on the platform +any person in the crowd poses you with an awkward question, should you +be able rapidly to transfer your eyeglass from your right eye to your +left, and fix the obtruder with a stony stare, he is so much engaged +in wondering whether you can keep the glass in position, that he +forgets what he asked you, and you can pass on to less dangerous +topics." + + * * * * * + +When Mr. SCHOMBERG McDONNELL informed his chief that Lord RANDOLPH +CHURCHILL had "come upon eight lions," Lord SALISBURY sighed and +remained for a moment in deep thought. Then he said, "How different +had the eight lions come upon him!" + + * * * * * + +Mr. GLADSTONE has backed himself to walk a mile, talk a mile, write a +mile, review a mile, disestablish a mile, chop a mile and hop a mile +in one hour. Sporting circles are much interested in the veteran +statesman's undertaking, and little else is talked about at the chief +West End resorts. The general opinion of those who ought to know seems +to be in favour of the scythe-bearer, but not a few have invested a +pound or two on the Mid-Lothian Marvel. + + * * * * * + +[Illustration: TRUE LITERARY EXCLUSIVENESS. + +"_WHAT_, MY DEAR REGINALD! YOU DON'T MEAN TO SAY YOU DON'T ADMIRE +BYRON AS A POET?" + +"CERTAINLY NOT. INDEED I HAVE A QUITE SPECIAL LOATHING AND CONTEMPT +FOR HIM IN THAT PARTICULAR CHARACTAH!" + +"DEAR ME! WHY, WHAT PARTICULAR POEMS OF HIS DO YOU OBJECT TO SO +STRONGLY?" + +"MY DEAH GRANDMOTHAH, I NEVAH READ A LINE OF BYRON IN MY LIFE,--AND I +CERTAINLY NEVAH MEAN TO!"] + + * * * * * + +TRYING IT ON. + + ["The natural result of a _rapprochement_ between Russia and + Italy, even if avowedly platonic in its character, would be + to weaken the prestige and moral force of the Triple + Alliance."--_The Times_.] + +_Mr. Bruin loquitur_:-- + + _Pst!_ Hang it, quite _au mieux!_ Now what am I to do? + I must draw her attention, if I'm going to have a chance. + She seems so satisfied with those gallants at her side + That just now in my direction she will hardly deign a glance. + _Pst!_ Darling, just a word! + No! Deaf as any post! It is perfectly absurd! + + _Pst!_ Heeds me not the least, just as though I were the Beast, + And she the sovereign Beauty that she deems she is, no doubt. + Since she won those burly _beaux_, it appears to be no go, + But Bruin's an old Masher, and he knows what he's about. + _Pst!_ Darling, look this way! + In your pretty little ear I've a word or two to say! + + The coy Gallic girl I've won. It is really awful fun, + For _her_ prejudice was strong as was that of Lady ANNE + To the ugly crookback, DICK. But my wooing there was quick. + Platonic? Oh! of course. That is always Bruin's plan. + A flirtation means no harm, + When you wish not to corrupt or betray, but simply charm. + + Fancy Italian girl won by the swagger twirl + Of an Austrian moustache! It is monstrous, nothing less. + What _would_ GARIBALDI say? Well, he doesn't live to-day, + Or he'd tear her from the arm of her ancient foe, I guess. + And that stalwart Teuton too! + Do you really think, my girl, he can really care for _you_? + + Ah! you always were a flirt, Miss ITALIA. You have hurt + France's feelings very much. Why, she stood your faithful friend + When the hated Austrian yoke bowed your neck. Did you invoke + The pompous Prussian then your captivity to end? + _Pst!_ Just a moment, dear. + I've a word or two to say it were worth your while to hear. + + Ah! A hasty glance she throws o'er her shoulder. But for those + Big, blonde, burly bullies twain, I could win her, I am sure; + For my manners all girls praise, and I have such winning ways, + And my lips, for kisses made, are for love a lasting lure. + _Pst!_ How those two stride on, + Without a glance at me! Do they think the game is won? + + Hrumph! The Bear, although polite, is as pertinacious, quite, + As the tactless Teuton pig. I'll yet spoil their little game. + Triple Alliance? Fudge! If that girl is a good judge, + She will make a third with Me and my latest Gallic "flame." + _Pst!_ Come along with me, + My dark Italian _belle_! We shall make a lovely Three! + +[_Left making signs._ + + * * * * * + +ACCI-DENTAL QUERY.--Let me ask the _Patres Conscripti_ of our Academy +Royal, why Dentists are not admitted A.R.A. _ex officio_. We have all +for ever so long, since the memory of the oldest JOE MILLER, which +runneth not to the contrary, known that Dentists drew teeth. But they +nowadays add to their accomplishments by painting gums. The other day +a friend of ours had a gum beautifully painted by a Dentist-artist +in a certain Welbeck Street studio. It was a wonderful gathering; our +friend in the chair. + + * * * * * + +THE OLD JOE AND THE NEW. + + To the humorous mind of a cynical cast, + Party change many matters for mirth affords; + But of all the big jokes, we've the biggest at last, + In CHAMBERLAIN's backing the House of Lords! + They toil not, nor spin? That's a very old jeer! + _Won't_ the Lilies take back seats when JOE is a Peer? + + * * * * * + +[Illustration: TRYING IT ON! + +RUSSIA. "SS--S--T! (_Whispers._) I WANT TO SPEAK TO YOU, MY DEAR!"] + + * * * * * + +[Illustration: "LISTEN TO MY TALE OF WOA!" + +(_Not much Gaiety about it._)] + + * * * * * + +TO MY LORD ADDINGTON. + + [Lord ADDINGTON, speaking recently at a Harvest Festival, + said, "If he were a labourer, and saw a rabbit nibbling his + cabbages, he would go for that rabbit with the first thing at + hand." (_Enthusiastic cheers._)--_Daily News_.] + +[Illustration] + + Lord ADDINGTON, most wonderful + Of people-pleasing peers, + You certainly contrived to raise + "Enthusiastic cheers." + + The villagers come flocking in + From all the country through, + To hear Your Lordship speak his mind + And tell them what to do. + + You did it well, you told them how + You'd have them understand + A lucky chance has made you own + A quantity of land. + + Though very fond of shooting, yet + Your love of shooting stops + At letting rabbits have their way + At decimating crops. + + And so, if you a labourer were, + (The which of course you're not), + And saw a rabbit in your ground + A-nibbling--on the spot + + You'd go for him with spade or fork, + At which, so it appears, + There rang throughout the crowded room + "Enthusiastic cheers." + + A Peer's advice is always good, + So doubtless they will grab it,-- + _But_ no one will be happier than + The cabbage-nibbling rabbit! + + * * * * * + +A LITTLE STRANGER. + + ["At the meeting of the Bermondsey Vestry, the Medical Officer + reported that water drawn from the service-pipe of a house + in the Jamaica Road, had been submitted to him. The water was + clear, but it contained a live horse-leech."--_Daily Paper_.] + + Oh, into our domestic pipes + They crawl and creep by stealth, + The gruesome creatures known unto + An Officer of Health! + Harken to him of Bermondsey, + Think what his murmurings teach, + "The water seemed quite limpid, _but_-- + It did contain a Leech!" + + The service-pipe was sound and good + In the Jamaica Road; + The cistern there had harboured ne'er + Microbe, or newt, or toad; + No clearer water softly laved + A coral island beach; + So thought the householder, until-- + He found that awful Leech! + + Perchance he was a temperance foe + To alcoholic drink, + And from all dalliance with Bung + Did scrupulously shrink. + Yet now to forms of fluid sin + He'll cotton, all and each; + He does not like such liquors, _but_-- + Prefers them to a Leech! + + Our pipes will not be pipes of peace + If such things hap, I trow; + And as for Water Trusts, 'tis hard + To trust in water now. + Oh, Co. of Southwark and Vauxhall, + We ratepayers beseech, + Double your filtering charges, _but_-- + Remove the loathly Leech! + + * * * * * + +OUR BOOKING-OFFICE. + +[Illustration] + +There is a judicial review of GEORGE MEREDITH's work in the +_Quarterly_ for October--masterly, too, quoth the Baron, as striking +a balance between effect and defect, and finding so much to be duly +said in high praise of the diffuse and picturesquely-circumnavigating +Novelist through whose labyrinthine pages the simple Baron finds it +hard to thread his way, and yet keep the clue. When the unskippingly +conscientious peruser of GEORGE M.'s novels is most desirous that the +author shall go ahead, GEORGE, like an Irish cardriver, will stop to +"discoorse us," and at such length, and so diffusely, and with such a +wealth of eccentric word-coming and grammar-dodging, that at last the +Baron gasps, choked by the rolling billows of sonorously booming or +boomingly sonorous words, battles with the waves, ducks, and comes +up again breathlessly, wondering where he may be, and what it was +all about. "Story! God bless you, I haven't much to tell, Sir!" says +the luxuriantly fanciful novel-grinder. And he hasn't much, it must +be owned, for essenced it would go into half a volume, or less, and +all over and above is pot-fuls of rich colour, spilt about almost at +haphazard, permutations and combinations, giving the effect of genius. +Which--genius it is; but a little of it goes a great way, in fact, a +very great way, wandering and straying until at length the Baron calls +for his _Richard Feverel_, and says, "This is the best that GEORGE +MEREDITH has written, as sure as my name is + +"THE BARON DE BOOK-WORMS." + + * * * * * + +BARD V. BARD. + + There was a poor Poet named CLOUGH, + Poet SWINBURNE declares he wrote stuff. + Ah, well, _he_ is dead! + 'Tis the living are fed, + By log-rollers, on butter and puff. + + * * * * * + +A SUGGESTION.--In a new poetical play at the Opera Comique there is a +good deal of hide-and-seek. It might have had a second title, and been +appropriately called _The Queen's Room; or, Secret Passages in the +Life of Mary Stuart_. + + * * * * * + +[Illustration: STREET IMPROVEMENTS. + +["If we really used the Thames Embankment sensibly and liberally, +it would abound with handsome shops and cheerful cafes a +and volksgartens, with newspaper kiosks and long lines of +bookstalls."--_Daily Telegraph_, Oct. 21.]] + + * * * * * + +BLENDIMUS! + +"Water, water everywhere" in the _Times_ recently, except when Messrs. +GILBEY wrote their annual, and this time hopeful, account of the +Claret vintage, and when subsequently Messrs. "P. and G."--(who on +earth are "P. and G."?)--with a few modest lines at the foot of a +page, last Wednesday, enlivened our drooping spirits with a brief but +satisfactory account of Champagne Prospects. If the vintages of '86 +and '87 are good, and those of '90 and '91 poor, why not make a blend? +and why not sell it as such? Let "P. and G."--[confound it! who on +earth can P. and G. be? "P. and J." would be "Punch and Judy"--and, +by the way, in the choice _Lingua Tuscana_, "P. and G." would stand +for "_Poncio e Giulia_." But, on the other hand, who, unauthorised, +would dare to use this signature? No matter--where were we?--ah!--to +resume.] Let "P. and G.," whoe'er they be--which is rhyme, though not +so intended--(but why this masquerade in initials?)--let them exploit +a "Blend of '90-cum-'86 and '91-cum-'87," sell it as such--viz., The +"P. and G. Blend," or "The Punchius and Giulia Blend"--at a reasonable +figure, and thus the Not-quite-up-to-the-mark vintages will be saved. +Have we not seen in City partnerships how a strong house saves a +failing one, and then the Blends go on successfully? Let "P. and G." +give us a first-rate Champagne, call it, say, The "G.B.," or "Golden +Blend," at a reasonable price, and, to drop once again into poetry, No +matter what their name may be, We'll ever bless our P. and G.![2] + +[Footnote 2: "P. and G." might stand for "Pay-for-it and Get-it," or +"Pour-it and Guzzle-it." A Correspondent has suggested that solution +of the initial problem might possibly be found in the names of Pommery +and Gre'--No! So common-place a suggestion is evidently, and on the +face of it, absurd. Not in this spirit did the Pickwick Club treat the +celebrated inscription on the stone that so puzzled the antiquarians.] + + * * * * * + +[Illustration: SPORT! + +_Cockney Sportsman_ (_eager, but disappointed_). "I SAY, MY BOY, SEEN +ANY BIRDS THIS WAY?" + +'_Cute Rustic (likewise anxious to make a bag)._ "OH, A RARE LOT, +GUV'NOR--A RARE LOT--JUST FLEW OVER THIS 'ERE 'EDGE, AND SETTLED IN +THAT 'ERE FIELD, CLOSE TO SQUIRE BLANK'S RICKS." + +[_Grateful Cockney Sportsman tips boy a shilling, and goes hopefully +after ... a flock of Starlings!_] + + * * * * * + +CAUGHT BY THE CLASSICS. + +(_THE RECORD OF A RUINED LIFE._) + +AUGUSTUS SPARKLER was an exceptionally brilliant man. At school he +had done marvellously well, and if he did not distinguish himself at +either of the Universities, it was less his fault than his misfortune. +When he entered the world, after casting off parental control, he +took up Medicine. He was a great success. He rose by leaps and bounds, +until at length it was thought highly probable that he would be +elected President of the Royal College of Physicians. He was sounded +upon the subject, and a question was put to him. + +"No," he replied, sorrowfully, and then the courteous Secretary +informed him, with tears in his voice, that he feared he was +disqualified. + +"Well, I will enter the Navy." + +He did. He passed through the _Britannia_, and rose by leaps and +bounds, until it was considered desirable to revive the post of Lord +High Admiral for his acceptance. But before this was done, he was +sounded upon the subject, and asked a question. + +"No," he again answered, regretfully. + +"I am afraid then, that the scheme must be abandoned," returned the +First Civil Lord (he had been chosen as more polite than his sea +colleagues), and he was almost moved to tears in his sadness. + +"I will enter the Army," cried AUGUSTUS, with determination. + +And he did. He rose from the ranks in less than no time to become a +Field Marshal. It was then that a certain Illustrious Personage asked +him if he would like to become Commander-in-Chief. + +"It is not impossible I might resign in your favour," said the I.P. +And then he asked him the necessary question. + +"No, Sir," returned AUGUSTUS, bowing down his head in shame. Again he +found that his career was interrupted. + +"I will try the Bar," he shouted. + +And he did. He entered at Gray's Inn, and in a very short time became +a Q.C., a Judge, and a Lord Justice. Then the entire Ministry begged +him, as a personal favour, to accept the post of Lord Chancellor. + +"With pleasure," was his modest rejoinder. Then he remembered that he +had been asked a certain question on previous occasions, and explained +matters. + +"I am afraid you won't do," cried the entire Ministry, mournfully. + +"Well, then, I will try the Church." + +And he tried the Church. He became an eminent divine. Every one spoke +well of him; and when, in due course, the Primacy of all England was +vacant, he was asked to accept it. Again he explained matters. + +"No!" shouted all the Deans and Chapters. + +"You can't mean it!" cried the entire body of Archdeacons. + +"Well, I never!" exclaimed every other ecclesiastical authority. +But it could not be, and the disappointment was too much for poor +AUGUSTUS, and he died of grief. + +And so they put on the tombstone, that he would have been +President of the Royal College of Physicians, Lord High Admiral, +Commander-in-Chief, Lord Chancellor, and Archbishop of Canterbury, +if--_he had only learned Greek!_ + + * * * * * + +LETTERS TO ABSTRACTIONS. + +NO. V.--TO GUSH. + +MY DEAREST DARLING PERSON, + +How sweet and amiable of you to allow a humble being like myself to +write to you. Dropping your own special style (which, to be perfectly +frank with you, I could no more continue through the whole of this +letter than I could dine off treacle and butter-scotch), I beg to say +that I am heartily glad to have this opportunity of telling you a few +things which have been on my mind for a long time. In what corner of +the great realm of abstractions do you make your home? I imagine you +whiling away the hours on some soft couch of imitation down, with a +little army of sweet but irrelevant smiles ready at all times to do +your bidding. You are refined, I am sure. You cultivate sympathy as +some men cultivate orchids, until it blooms and luxuriates in the +strangest and gaudiest shapes. Your real face is known of no other +abstraction; indeed, you never see it yourself, so well-fitted and so +constant is the mask through which you waft the endearments which have +caused you to be avoided everywhere. This, I admit, is imagination; +but is it very far from the truth? Perhaps I ask in vain, for truth +is the very last thing that may be expected of you and of those who +do your bidding upon earth. I will not, therefore, press the question, +but proceed at once to business. + +[Illustration] + +About a month ago I met your friend, ALGERNON JESSAMY. What is there +about ALGERNON that inspires such distrust? He is very presentable; +some people have gone so far as to call him absolutely good-looking. +He is tall, his figure is good, his clothes fit him admirably, and are +always speckless; his features are regular, his complexion fresh, and +his fair hair, carefully parted in the middle, lies like a smooth and +shining lid upon his head. I pass over all his remaining advantages, +whether of dress or of nature. It is enough to say that, thus +equipped, and with the additional merits of wealth and a good +position, ALGERNON ought to have found no difficulty in being one of +the most popular men in town. Perhaps he would have been if he had +not tried with such a persistent energy to make himself "so deuced +agreeable." The phrase is not mine, but that of SAMMY MIGGS, who has +a contempt for ALGERNON and his methods, which he never attempts to +conceal. + +"ALGY, my boy," I have heard him say, while the unfortunate JESSAMY +smiled uneasily, and shifted on his seat, "ALGY, my boy, I've known +you too long to give in to any of your nonsense. All that butter of +yours is wasted here, so you'd better keep it for someone who likes +it. Try it on QUISBY," he continued, indicating the celebrated actor, +who was at that moment frowning furiously over a notice of his latest +performance; "he loves it in firkins, and I'll undertake to say you'll +never get to the bottom of his swallowing capacity. You'll have to +exhaust even your stock, ALGY, my boy; and that's saying a lot." + +So thoroughly uncomfortable did the suave and gentle ALGERNON look, +that I afterwards ventured to remonstrate mildly with the gadfly +MIGGS. + +"What?" he said, "made him uncomfortable, did I? And a jolly good job +too. Bless you, I know the beggar through and through. I wasn't at +Oxford with him for nothing. Wish I had been. He's the sort of chap +who loses no end of I.O.U.'s at cards one night, and when he wins +piles of ready the next never offers to redeem them. You let me +alone about ALGY. I tell you I know him. There's no bigger humbug in +Christendom with all his soft sawder and gas about everybody being the +dearest and cleverest fellow he's ever met. Bah!" + +And therewith SAMMY left me, evidently smarting under some ancient +sore inflicted by the apparently angelic ALGERNON. + +However, this little incident was not the one I intended to narrate. +I met ALGY, as I said, about a month ago. It was in Piccadilly. At +first, as I approached, I thought he did not see me, but suddenly +he seemed to become aware of my presence. An electric thrill of joy +ran through him, a smile of heavenly welcome irradiated his face, he +darted towards me with both hands stretched out and almost fell round +my neck before all the astonished cabmen. + +"My dear, dear fellow," he gasped, apparently struggling hard with an +overpowering emotion, "this is almost too much. To think that I should +meet the one man of all others whom I have been literally longing to +see. Now you simply must walk with me for a bit. I can't afford to let +you go without having a good talk with you. It always refreshes me so +to hear your opinions of men and things." + +Ignoring my assurance that I had an important appointment to keep, +he linked his arm closely in mine and dragged me with him in the +direction from which I had come. How he pattered and chattered +and flattered. He daubed me over with flattery as I have seen +bill-stickers brush a hoarding over with paste. Never in my life had +I felt so small, so mean and such a perfect fool, for though I own +I have no objection to an occasional lollipop of praise, I must say +I loathe it in lumps the size of a jelly-fish. Yet such is the fare +on which JESSAMY compels me to subsist. And the annoying part of +it was that every lump which he crammed down my throat contained +an inferential compliment to himself, which I was forced either +to accept, or in declining it to appear a churl. I was never more +churlish, never less satisfied with myself. Amongst other things we +spoke of the affairs of "The Dustheap," a little Club of which we were +both members. JESSAMY opined it was going to the dogs. "Just look," +he said, "at the men they've got on the Committee; mere nobodies. I've +always wondered why you are not on it. Men like you and me wouldn't +make the ridiculous mistakes the present lot are constantly making. +Fancy their electing MUMPLEY, a regular outsider, without enough +manners for a school-boy. I really don't care about being in the +same room with him." At this very moment, by one of those curious +coincidences which invariably happen, the abused MUMPLEY himself, a +wealthy but otherwise inoffensive stockbroker, hove in sight. "There +comes the brute himself," said JESSAMY; and in another moment his arms +were round MUMPLEY's neck, and he was protesting, with all the fervour +of a heartfelt conviction, that MUMPLEY was the one man of all others +for whom his heart had been yearning. That being so, I left them +together, and departed to my business. + +Now does JESSAMY imagine that that kind of thing makes him a +favourite? It must be admitted that he is not very artistic in his +methods; and I fancy he must sometimes perceive, if I may use a +homely phrase, that he doesn't go down. But the poor beggar can't +help himself. He is driven by a force which he finds it impossible +to resist into the cruel snares that are spread for the over-amiable. +You, my dear GUSH, are that force, and to you, therefore, the sugary +JESSAMY owes his failure to win the appreciation which he courts so +ardently. + +And now I think I have relieved my mind of a sufficient load for the +time being. If I can remember anything else that might interest you, +you may count upon me to address you again. Permit me in the meantime +to subscribe myself with all proper curtness, + +Yours. &c. DIOGENES ROBINSON. + + * * * * * + +"THE PRODIGY SON." + +[Illustration: Much put out.] + +Sir,--I have not seen _Pamela's Prodigy_, but I have just read the +criticism in the _Times_, which says of it, "It must be regarded +either as a boyish effusion or a sorry joke." The criticism +then points out how it lacks "wit, humour, literary skill," and +apparently is wanting in everything that goes to make a successful +play,--everything that is, except the actors. Mrs. JOHN WOOD was in +it: she is a host in herself: not only a host, but the Manageress of +the theatre who, with her partner in the business, is responsible for +the selection of pieces. Now granting the critic to be right--and, +on referring to others, I find a _consensus_ of opinion backing him +up--at whose door lies the responsibility of having deliberately +selected a failure? Under what compulsion could so clever and +experienced an autocrat, sharp as a needle and with the "heye of an +'awk" in theatrical matters, as Mrs. JOHN WOOD, have made so fatal a +mistake--that is, if the critics are right, and if it be a mistake? +"_To err, is human_"--and, including even Mrs. JOHN WOOD, and the +critics, we are all human,--"_To forgive, divine_"--the critics +not being divine could not forgive; the public apparently, did +forgive--and, will, of course, forget. 'Tis all very well to fall +foul of the unhappy author--whom we will not name--_after_ the event; +but why was the piece ever chosen, and why was not the discovery of +its unfitness made during rehearsal? No! "as long as the world goes +round" these things will happen in the best regulated theatres, and +experience is apparently no sort of guide in such matters.--Yours +faithfully, + +"NOT THERE, NOT THERE, MY CHILD!" + + * * * * * + +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, Volume +101, October 31, 1891, by Various + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PUNCH *** + +***** This file should be named 15442.txt or 15442.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/1/5/4/4/15442/ + +Produced by Malcolm Farmer, William Flis, and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team. + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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