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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Punch, or the London Charivari, Volume 104,
+January 14, 1893, 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 104, January 14, 1893
+
+Author: Various
+
+Release Date: May 24, 2007 [EBook #21598]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PUNCH ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Punch, or the London Charivari, Juliet
+Sutherland and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team
+at https://www.pgdp.net
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.
+
+VOL. 104.
+
+
+
+JANUARY 14th, 1893.
+
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+THE SCHOOL FOR PATRIOTISM.
+
+    [A Fund has been raised to supply the School Board with
+    Union-Jacks, with a view to increasing the loyalty of the
+    pupils.--_Daily Paper._]
+
+SCENE--_A Room of the School Board, decorated with flags and trophies
+of arms._ Teacher _discovered instructing his pupils in English
+History._
+
+_Teacher._ And now we come to the Battle of Trafalgar, which was won
+by NELSON in the early part of the present century. As it is my object
+to increase your patriotism, I may tell you that "BRITANNIA rules the
+waves, and Britons never, never, never will be slaves!" Repeat that in
+chorus.
+
+_Pupils._ "Rule, BRITANNIA, BRITANNIA rules the waves; Britons never,
+never, never will be slaves!"
+
+_Teacher._ Thank you very much; and to show how the _esprit de corps_
+in Her Majesty's Ships-of-War is preserved, I will now dance the
+Sailor's Hornpipe.
+
+    [_Does so._
+
+_First Pupil._ Please, Sir, do Englishmen always win?
+
+_Teacher._ Invariably. If they retire, they do not retreat. Can you
+tell me what a retirement of troops in the face of the enemy is
+called?
+
+_Second Pupil._ Bolting, Sir.
+
+_Teacher._ Nothing of the sort. Go to the bottom of the class, Sirrah!
+Bolting, indeed! Next boy!
+
+_Third Pupil._ It is called "a strategic movement to the rear," Sir.
+
+_Teacher._ Quite right; and now we come to the Battle of Waterloo,
+which you will remember was won on the 18th of June, 1815. But perhaps
+this may be a convenient time for the introduction of the Union-Jack
+War Dance, which, as you all know, has been recently ordered to be
+part of our studies by the Committee of the School Board. Now then,
+please, take your places.
+
+    [The Pupils _seize the flags hanging to the walls, and dance
+    merrily. At the conclusion of the exercise they replace the
+    flags, and resume their customary places._
+
+_First Pupil._ If you please, can you tell us anything about the
+Union-Jack?
+
+_Teacher._ As I have explained on many occasions, when you have been
+good and obliging enough to put the same question to me, I am
+delighted to have the opportunity. You must know that the Union-Jack
+represents the greatest nation in the world. This nation is our own
+beloved country, and it is gratifying to know that there are no people
+so blessed as our own. The Union-Jack flies in every quarter of the
+globe, and where it is seen, slavery becomes impossible, and tyranny a
+thing of the past. To be an Englishman is to be the noblest creature
+on the earth. One Englishman is worth twenty specimens of other
+nationalities; he is more conscientious, more clever, more beautiful
+than any other living man, and it is a good thing for the world that
+he exists. _(Looking at watch._) And now, as we have rather exceeded
+our usual time for study, we will depart after the customary ceremony.
+
+    [_The_ Pupils _then sing the National Anthem, and the School
+    dismisses itself with three cheers for_ HER MAJESTY.
+    _Curtain._
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+    [Illustration: "ON NE 'PATINE' PAS AVEC L'AMOUR."
+    (_With Apologies to the Shade of Alfred de Musset._)]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+BUTTERS BUTTERED.
+
+SIR,--I have been deeply thrilled by the suggestion for curing the
+Agricultural depression which Messrs. MACDOUGALL, of Mark Lane, have
+made. I am not myself an Agriculturist; still, in--or rather near--the
+suburban villa in which I reside, I have an old cow, and a donkey on
+which my children ride. Directly I heard that the way to keep animals
+warm and comfortable in Winter was to smear them all over with oil,
+thus saving much of the cost of feeding them, I tried the plan on the
+aged cow. Perhaps the oil I used was not sufficiently pure. At all
+events the animal, which had never been known before to do more than
+proceed at a leisurely walk, rushed at frantic speed into the garden,
+and tossed my wife's mother into a cucumber-frame. She has now gone
+home. Undeterred by the comparative failure of this attempt, I smeared
+our donkey with a pint of the best castor-oil, just before setting out
+on its daily amble, with the children (in panniers) on its back. It
+did not appear to relish the treatment, as it instantly broke loose,
+and was found, five miles off, in a village pound, while the children
+were landed in a neighbouring ditch. I am writing to Messrs.
+MACDOUGALL, to ask for particulars of how the oil is to be applied. I
+am sure it is an excellent idea, if the animals could be brought to
+see it in the same light.
+
+  Yours, experimentally,
+  DARWIN EDISON GUBBINS.
+
+       ***
+
+MY DEAR MR. PUNCH,--SMITH Minor, who is staying at our house for part
+of the holidays, said what good fun it would be to try the MACDOUGALL
+plan on my Uncle from India. He is always cold and shivering. We
+waited till he was having a nap after dinner in the arm-chair, and we
+coated him over with butter that SMITH Minor got from Cook. (Cook
+never will give _me_ butter.) When we got to his hair he unfortunately
+woke up, so that is probably why the plan did not succeed. We thought
+he would be pleased to feel warmer, but he wasn't. Uncles are often
+ungrateful, SMITH Minor says. And it _did_ succeed in one way, because
+he seemed awfully hot and red in the face when he found what we had
+been doing. Perhaps we ought not to have tried smearing him on his
+clothes, but how could we get his clothes off without waking him?
+SMITH Minor says it's a pity we didn't drug him. N.B.--I have been
+stopped going to the Pantomime for this, and SMITH Minor is to be sent
+home!
+
+  Your dejected      TOMMY.
+
+       ***
+
+SIR,--I want to bring an action against Messrs. MACDOUGALL, of Mark
+Lane. I tried their smearing plan on a horse in my stable that had a
+huge appetite, and was always getting cold if left out in the wet. I
+used paraffin, and at first the animal seemed really grateful. In the
+night I was called up by a fearful noise, and found that the horse's
+appetite had not got at all less owing to the oil; on the contrary, it
+seemed to have eaten up most of the woodwork of the stable, and was
+plunging about madly. The paraffin caught light, and the stable was
+burned, and the horse too. In future I shall feed my horse in the
+usual way, not on the outside.
+
+  Yours,      TITUS OATS.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+    [Illustration: THE THIN BROWN LINE.]
+
+    ["Decidedly the most gratifying feature in the accounts of
+    these engagements which have reached us, is the proof which
+    they contain of the remarkable progress in all soldierly
+    qualities made by the fellaheen forces, under the guidance and
+    instruction of their British Officers."--_The Times._]
+
+  _Tommy Atkins, loquitur_:--
+
+  "WE'VE fought with many men acrost the seas,
+    And some of 'em was brave, an' some was not."
+  (So Mister KIPLING says. His 'ealth, boys, please!
+    '_E_ doesn't give us TOMMIES Tommy-rot.)
+  We didn't think you over-full of pluck,
+    When you scuttled from our baynicks like wild 'orses;
+  But you're mendin', an' 'ere's wishing of you luck!
+    Wich you're proving an addition to our forces.
+  So 'ere's _to_ you, though 'tis true that at El Teb you cut and ran;
+  You're improvin' from a scuttler to a first-class fighting man;
+  You can 'old your own at present when the bullets hiss and buzz,
+  And in time you may be equal to a round with Fuzzy-Wuz!
+
+  You've been lammed and licked sheer out of go an' grit,
+  From the times of Pharaoh down to the Khe-_dive_;
+     Till you 'ardly feel yerself one bloomin' bit,
+  And I almost wonder you are left alive.
+    But we've got you out of a good deal of _that_,
+    Sir EVELYN and the rest of us. You _foller_;
+      And you'll fight yer weight in (Soudanese) wild cat
+    One day, nor let the Fuzzies knock you oller.
+  Then 'ere's _to_ you, my fine Fellah, and the missis and the kid!
+  When you stand a Dervish devil-rush, and do as you are bid,
+  You'll just make a TOMMY ATKINS of a quiet Coptic sort;
+  And I shouldn't wonder then, mate, if the Fuzzies see some sport.
+
+    Some would like us lads to clear out! Wot say _you_?
+      _We_ don't tumble to the Parties and their fakes;
+    But I guess we don't mean scuttle. If we _do_,
+      We shall make the bloomingest o' black mistakes;
+    With the 'owling Dervishes you've stood a brush,
+      With a baynick you can cross a shovel-spear;
+    But leave yer to the French, and Fuzzy's rush?
+      That won't be a 'ealthy game for many a year.
+  So 'ere's _to_ you, my fine Fellah! May you cut and run no more,
+  Though the 'acking, 'owling, 'ayrick-'eaded niggers rush and roar,
+  We back you, 'elp you, train you, and to make the bargain fair,
+  We won't leave you--yet--to Fuz-Wuz--him as broke a British Square.
+
+    You ain't no "thin red" 'eroes, no, not yet,
+      But a patient, docile, plucky, "thin brown line."
+    May be useful in its way, my boy, you bet'!
+      All good fighters may shake fists, you know--'ere's mine!
+    You're a daisy, you're a dasher, you're a dab!
+      I'll fight with you, or join you on a spree
+    Let the skulkers and the scuttlers stow their gab,
+      TOMMY ATKINS drinks your 'ealth with three times three!
+  So 'ere's _to_ you, my fine Fellah! 'E who funked the 'ot Soudan,
+  And the furious Fuzzy-Wuzzies, grows a first-class fighting-man:
+  An' 'ere's _to_ you, my fine Fellah, coffee 'ide and inky hair
+  May yet shoulder stand to shoulder with me in a British Square!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+REFLECTION BY A READER OF "REMINISCENCES."
+
+  Yes, life _is_ hard. Our fellows judge us coldly;
+    We mostly dwell in fog, and dance in fetters;
+  But sweeter far to face oblivion boldly,
+    Than front posterity through a _Life and Letters._
+  That Memory's the Mother of the Muses,
+    We're told. Alas! it must have been the Furies!
+  Mnemosyne her privilege abuses,--
+    Nothing from her distorting glass secure is.
+  Life is a Sphinx: folk cannot solve her riddles,
+  So they've recourse to spiteful taradiddles,
+  Which they dub "Reminiscences." Kind fate,
+  From, the fool's Memory preserve the Great!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"HOW LONDON THEATRES ARE WARMED."--By having first-rate pieces. This
+prevents any chance of a "frost."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+SONG FOR THE LIBERATOR SOCIETY, AND OTHERS.--"Oh, where, and oh where,
+is our J. S. B-LF-R gone?"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+  When the _P. M. Gazette_ by a Tory was book'd,
+  The Editor "Cust," and its readers were Cooke'd.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+    [Illustration: "SURGIT AMARI ALIQUID----"
+
+    "AND WHOM DID YOU TAKE INTO SUPPER, MIKE?" "MAUD WILLOUGHBY."
+    "YOU LUCKY BOY! WHY SHE'S A DARLING!"
+    "YES--BUT THERE WAS ANOTHER FELLOW ON HER OTHER SIDE!"]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+ON AN OLD QUARTETTE.
+
+    [_Pantaloon, Clown, Harlequin, and Columbine_ are the
+    characters of an old sixteenth-century drama, acted in
+    dumb-show. "_Pantaleone_" is a Venetian type; _Columbine_
+    means a "little dove."]
+
+  WHILE Fairyland and Fairy tales
+    'Neath flaunting pageants fall,
+  And over Pantomime prevails
+    The Muse of Music Hall.
+  Still echoes, wafted through the din,
+    A lilt of one old tune--
+  Of Columbine and Harlequin,
+    Of Clown and Pantaloon.
+
+  Their faded frolics, tarnished show
+    Are shadows faint and rude
+  Of mimes who centuries ago
+    Joked, caramboled and wooed,
+  Of masques Venetian, Florentine,
+    Of moyen-age renown--
+  Of Harlequin and Columbine,
+    Of Pantaloon and Clown.
+
+  Not horseplay rough, the Saraband
+    They danced in vanished years,
+  But Love and Satire hand-in-hand,
+    And laughter linked with tears,
+  And Youth equipped his dove to win,
+    And Age, who grudged the boon;--
+  Sweet Columbine, bold Harlequin,
+    Cross Clown and Pantaloon.
+
+  Our Children-Critics now who deign
+    To greet this honoured jest,
+  Acclaiming, "Here we are again!"
+    With patronising zest,
+  They mark no soft Italian moon
+    Which once was wont to shine
+  On Harlequin and Pantaloon,
+    And Clown and Columbine!
+
+  But, spangled pair of lovers true,
+    And, whitened schemers twain,
+  The scholar hears in each of you
+    A note of that quatrain;
+  The dim Renaissance seems to spin
+    Around your satin shoon,
+  Fair Columbine, feat Harlequin,
+    Sly Clown and Pantaloon!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+EVERYONE sincerely hopes that Sir WEST RIDGWAY will make a good bag
+during his visit to the Moors. "Ridgway's Food" is something that can
+be swallowed easily, and is so palatable as to be quite a More-ish
+sort of dish. Good luck to the experienced and widely-travelled Sir
+EAST-AND-WEST RIDGWAY. Our English ROSEBERY couldn't have made a
+better choice.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+TO A BREWER (_by Our Christmas Clown_).--"Wish you a Hoppy New Year!"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+THE MAN WHO WOULD.
+
+VI.--THE MAN WHO WOULD BE A SOUL.
+
+LINCOLN B. SWEZEY was a high-toned and inquiring American citizen, who
+came over to study our Institootions. He carried letters to almost
+everybody; Dukes, Radicals, Authors, eminent British Prize-fighters,
+Music-hall buffoons, and he prosecuted his examination steadily. He
+did not say much, and he never was seen to laugh, but he kept a
+note-book, and he seemed to contemplate in his own mind, The Ideal
+American, and to try to live up to that standard. When he did speak,
+it was in the interrogative, and he pastured his intellect on our
+high-class Magazines.
+
+LINCOLN B. discovered many things, and noted them down for his work on
+_Social Dry Rot in Europe_, but one matter puzzled him. He read in
+papers or reviews, and he vaguely heard talk of a secret institution,
+the Society of Souls. They were going to run a newspaper; they were
+_not_ going to run a newspaper. There was a poem in connection with
+them, which mystified LINCOLN B. SWEZEY not a little; he "allowed it
+was darned personal," but further than that his light did not
+penetrate. He went to a little Club, of which he was a temporary
+member; it was not fashionable, and did not seem to want to be, and
+SWEZEY thought it flippant. There he asked, "What _are_ the Souls,
+anyhow?" "_Societas omnium animarum_," somebody answered, and SWEZEY
+exclaimed "Say!" "They are a congregation of ladies. Their statutes
+decree that they are to be _bene natæ, bene vestitæ_, and
+_mediocriter_,--I don't remember what."
+
+SWEZEY perceived that he was being trifled with, and turned the
+conversation to the superior culture and scholarship of American
+politicians, with some thoughts on canvas-backed ducks.
+
+He next applied to a lady, whom he regarded as at once fashionable and
+well-informed, and asked her, "Who the Souls were, anyhow?"
+
+"Oh, a horrid, stuck-up set of people," said this Pythoness. "They
+have passwords, and wear a silver gridiron."
+
+"Why on earth do they do that?" asked SWEZEY.
+
+"No doubt for some improper, or blasphemous reason. Don't be a
+Soul--you had better be a Skate. I am a Skate. We wear a silver skate,
+don't you see" (and she showed him a model of an Acme Skate in
+silver), "with the motto, _Celer et Audax_--'Fast and Forward.'"
+
+SWEZEY expressed his pride at being admitted to these mysteries--but
+still pursued his inquiries.
+
+"What do the Souls _do_?"
+
+"All sorts of horrid things. They have a rule that no Soul is ever to
+speak to anybody who is not a Soul, in society, you know. And they
+have a rule that no Soul is ever to marry a Soul."
+
+"Exogamy!" said SWEZEY, and began to puzzle out the probable results
+and causes of this curious prohibition.
+
+"I don't know what you mean," said the lady, "and I don't know why you
+are so curious about them. They all read the same books at the same
+time, and they sacrifice wild asses at the altar of the Hyperborean
+Apollo, IBSEN, you know."
+
+These particulars were calculated to excite SWEZEY in the highest
+degree. He wrote a letter on the subject to the _Chanticleer_, a
+newspaper in Troy, Ill., of which he was a correspondent, and it was
+copied, with zinco-type illustrations, into all the journals of the
+habitable globe, and came back to England like the fabled boomerang.
+Meanwhile SWEZEY was cruising about, in town and country, looking
+out for persons wearing silver gridirons. He never found any, and the
+more he inquired, the more puzzled he became. He was informed that a
+treatise on the subject existed, but neither at the British Museum,
+nor at any of the newspaper offices, could he obtain an example of
+this rare work, which people asserted that they had seen and read.
+
+Finally SWEZEY made the acquaintance of a lady who was rumoured darkly
+to be learned in the matter. To her he poured forth expressions of his
+consuming desire to be initiated, and to sacrifice at the shrine.
+
+"There is not any shrine," said his acquaintance.
+
+    [Illustration: "Then what in the universe is it all about?"]
+
+"Well, I guess I want bad to be a Soul--an honorary one, of course--a
+temporary member."
+
+"There are conditions," said the Priestess.
+
+"If there's a subscription"----SWEZEY began.
+
+"There is not any subscription."
+
+"If there's an oath"----
+
+"There is not any oath."
+
+"Well what are the conditions, anyhow?"
+
+"Are you extremely beautiful?"
+
+Among the faults of SWEZEY, personal vanity was not reckoned. He shook
+his head sadly, at the same time intimating that he guessed no one
+would turn round in Broadway to look at the prettiest Englishwoman
+alive.
+
+Afterwards, he reflected that this was hardly the right thing to have
+said.
+
+"Are you extremely diverting?"
+
+SWEZEY admitted that gaiety was not his forte. Still, he pined for
+information.
+
+"What does the Society _do_?" he asked.
+
+"There is not any Society."
+
+"Then why do they call themselves Souls?"
+
+"But they don't call themselves anything whatever."
+
+"Then why are they called Souls?"
+
+"Because they----but no! That is the Mystery which cannot be divulged
+to the profane."
+
+"Then what in the universe is it all about?" asked SWEZEY; but this
+was a problem to which no answer was vouchsafed.
+
+SWEZEY is still going around, and still asking questions. But he has
+moments of despondency, in which he is inclined to allow that the poor
+islanders possess, after all, something akin to that boasted
+inheritance of his native land, the Great American Joke. "Guess
+they've played it on me," is the burden of his most secret
+meditations.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+THE INFANT'S GUIDE TO KNOWLEDGE.
+
+    (_Revised to date by Mr. Punch._)
+
+_Question._ What is an Infant?
+
+_Answer._ A guileless child who has not yet reached twenty-one years
+of age.
+
+_Q._ What is a year?
+
+_A._ An unknown quantity to a lady after forty. And this reply is
+distinctly smart.
+
+_Q._ What is "smartness"?
+
+_A._ The art of appearing to belong to a good set.
+
+_Q._ What is a good set?--_A._ A clique that prefers modes to
+morality, _chic_ to comfort, and frivolity to family ties.
+
+_Q._ What is _chic_?--_A._ An indefinable something, implying "go,"
+"fast and loose style," "slap-dash."
+
+_Q._ What is a dinner-party?
+
+_A._ A large subject, that cannot be disposed of in a paragraph.
+
+_Q._ What is a subject?--_A._ Something distinct from Royalty.
+
+_Q._ Can one be distinct after dinner?--_A._ Yes,--with difficulty.
+
+_Q._ What is a difficulty?
+
+_A._ When of a pecuniary character--the time following the using up of
+the pecuniary resources of your friends.
+
+_Q._ What is a friend?
+
+_A._ A man who dines with you--a past enemy or a future foe.
+
+_Q._ What is bad champagne?--_A._ A fruity effervescing beverage
+costing about thirty shillings the dozen.
+
+_Q._ What is good?--_A._ Cannot reply until I have received samples.
+
+_Q._ How can an inexperienced diner discover that he has taken bad
+champagne?
+
+_A._ By the condition of his head on the following morning.
+
+_Q._ What is a head?--_A._ A necessary alternative to money.
+
+_Q._ What is money?
+
+_A._ The only satisfactory representative of credit.
+
+_Q._ What are representatives?
+
+_A._ The mouthpieces of voters mustered in the House of Commons.
+
+_Q._ What is mustard?
+
+_A._ The chief ingredient of breakfast, after a night of it with your
+friends, when your appetite requires coaxing.
+
+_Q._ What is the future?--_A._ To-morrow, and the coming centuries.
+
+_Q._ And the past?--_A._ Two minutes ago, and all that went before.
+
+_Q._ And the present?--_A._ The right time for bringing the current
+instalment of the Infant's Guide to a prompt conclusion.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"ENCORE, ALADDIN!"
+
+    [Illustration: Notes for the _Storey_ of _Aladdin_, supplied
+    by M. Jacobi.]
+
+    [Illustration: Marie-Aladdin and the Electric Light Pollini.]
+
+ALADDIN at the Alhambra is a genuine "Ballet Extravaganza," the story
+being told in pantomimic action, illustrated by M. JACOBI'S
+sympathetic music. _Aladdin_ was an excellent subject for Mr. JOHN
+HOLLINGSHEAD to take, though I venture to think that our old friend
+_Blue Beard_ would be a still better one. The only fault I find with
+_Aladdin_ is that it is too soon over. It certainly will take rank
+among the most superb and the most dramatic spectacles ever placed on
+the Alhambra stage. _Aladdin_ ought to have been made much more of, as
+a sort of _L'Enfant Prodigue._ What a chance there would have been for
+him in games with the street-boys! Mlle. LEGNANI--so called, of
+course, from the graceful facility with which she remains for several
+seconds at a time on one leg--is both a pretty and nimble
+representative of the Dancing Princess. The _Slave of the Ring_ does
+not appear in this story, as far as I could gather, only the _Spirit
+of the Lamp_, Signorina POLLINI, puts in an appearance, and a very
+splendid appearance it is too! Mr. JOHN HOLLINGSHEAD is to be
+congratulated on having struck out a new line--though how he or the
+LORD CHAMBERLAIN could "_strike out a new line_" where there is no
+dialogue, will ever remain a mystery, even to M. JACOBI who knows most
+things well, and music better than anything. Mlle. MARIE is a
+sprightly _Aladdin_, her pantomimic action being remarkably good. How
+many _Aladdins_ have I seen! Whatever may become of other fairy
+tales--though all the best fairy tales are immortal--this of _Aladdin_
+will serve the stage for ever. At least, so thinks PRIVATE BOX.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+    [Illustration: CHEAP LAW IN THE CITY.
+
+    _Probable Development of the new "London Chamber of
+    Arbitration," for the economical Settlement of Disputes
+    without recourse to Litigation._]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+BASQUEING IN A NEW LANGUAGE.--Much interest has been excited by the
+report that Mr. GLADSTONE, during his stay at Biarritz, used up his
+spare moments by studying the Basque tongue. AUTOLYCUS hears that,
+contrary to his usual habit, the Right Hon. Gentleman has in this
+matter an ulterior purpose. Occasionally, in the heat of debate in the
+House of Commons, Mr. ABRAHAM drops into his native tongue, and
+addresses the SPEAKER in Welsh. Mr. GLADSTONE, desiring to add a fresh
+interest to Parliamentary proceedings, will, in such circumstances,
+immediately follow the Hon. Member for the Rhondda Vally, and continue
+the debate in Basque.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+EVIDENT, "WHEN YOU COME TO THINK OF IT."--At what most patriotic
+moment of a most patriotic French exile must his feelings be most
+bitter?--When his love turns to Gaul.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"TO BE CONTINUED."
+
+    [Illustration: A Tale Continued in our Next.]
+
+  How eagerly those tales I read
+    While still of tender years,
+  Of murder strange, of Haunted Grange,
+    And gory Buccaneers!
+  But, at the most exciting point,
+    Abruptly ceased the text,--
+  What rage was mine to meet the line,
+    _"Continued in our next"!_
+
+  Sometimes, indeed, misfortune sharp
+    The Journal would attend--
+  The funds would fail, and so the tale
+    Remains without an end.
+  Now, when I take a serial up,
+    I cry, in accents vexed,--
+  "I've read enough--why _is_ the stuff
+    _'Continued in our next'?"_
+
+  Ah well, the things we valued once
+    Enliven us no more!
+  (Remarks like these, if morals please,
+    I've furnished by the score.)
+  And should these verses but result
+    In making you perplexed,
+  You'll learn with glee _they_ will not be
+    _"Continued in our next"!_
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"Oh, these Christmas Bills!" cried PATERFAMILIAS. "That's what I do,"
+rejoined IMPEY QUNIOUS. "My sentiments and practice precisely--'Owe
+these Christmas Bills'--and many others."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+BUILDING THE SNOW MAN.
+
+  BILLY and JOHNNIE were two little boys,
+  Who wearied of lessons, and tired of their toys.
+  Says BILLY, "I've hit on an excellent plan;
+  Let's go out in the cold, JOHN, and build a Snow Man!"
+
+_Johnnie_ (_blowing his fingers_). Oh, I say, BILLY, isn't it cold,
+either?
+
+_Billy_ (_stamping_). _Is_ it, JOHNNIE? I haven't noticed it myself.
+
+_Johnnie._ Oh, you're as hard as nails, _you_ are. _My_ fingers are
+quite numb.
+
+_Billy._ Then work away briskly. _That'll_ warm 'em! Snow's a bit less
+binding than I expected to find it. Result of the severe frost, I
+suppose. But peg away, and we shall podge it into shape yet, JOHNNIE.
+
+_Johnnie._ Ye-e-e-s! (_Shivers_). But what--er--er--what pattern, or
+plan, or model, have we--that--is--er--have _you_--er--decided on,
+BILLY?
+
+_Billy_ (_winking_). Well, that's as it happens, JOHNNIE! Remember the
+one we built in '86--eh?
+
+_Johnnie_ (_shuddering_). I should think I did. Don't mean to say
+we're to go on _those_ lines again, BILLY?
+
+_Billy._ I mean to _say_ nothing of the kind. Many things have
+happened since then, JOHNNIE. For one thing, we've had heaps of
+advice.
+
+_Johnnie._ Hang it, yes! And where are the advisers? Standing aloof
+and criticising our work--_in advance_. Where's that bold, blusterous,
+bumptious Behemoth, BILL STEAD? Knew all about building Snow Men, _he_
+did; had a private monopoly of omniscience in that, as in most other
+things, BILL had. And now he's licking creation into shape for
+six-pence a month, and shying stones at us whenever he sees a chance.
+Little cocksure LABBY, too! Oh, _he_'s a nice boy! If BILL takes all
+Knowledge for his province, HENRY considers himself sole proprietor of
+_Truth_, and he lets us _have_ Truth--_his_ Truth--every week at
+least--in hard chunks--that hurt horribly. All in pure friendliness,
+too, as the Bobby said when he knocked the boy down to save him from
+being run over. Gr-r-r-r! Believe he's hiding behind the hedge there,
+with a pile of hard snowballs to pelt our Man out of shape as soon as
+we've licked him into it--if ever we do. TEDDY REED, too, _he_'s
+turned nasty, though he _does_ come from "gallant little Wales;" and
+now here's WALLACE, the Scotch boy--though _he_ was all right
+anyhow!--cutting up rough at the last moment, and complaining of our
+Snow Man (which they've all been howling for for six years), because
+he fancies its head is likely to be a little too Hibernian for his
+Caledonian taste! Oh, they're a nice loyal, grateful lot, BILLY! And
+where are the Irish bhoys themselves, in whose interests we are
+freezing our fingers and nipping our noses? Standing off-and-on, as it
+were, bickering like blazes among themselves, and only uniting to land
+_us_ a nasty one now and then--just to encourage us!
+
+_Billy_ (_patting and punching away vigorously_). Loyal? Grateful? Ah,
+JOHNNIE, you don't understand 'em as well as I do. Cold has got on
+your liver. You're a brave boy, JOHNNIE, but just a bit bilious.
+Building Snow Men isn't just like arranging bouquets, my boy. Let them
+bicker, JOHNNIE, and _listen to what they say_! It may all come in
+handy by-and-by. We've had gratuitous advice and volunteer plans all
+round, from ARTY BALFOUR and JOEY CHAMBERLAIN, as well as HENRY, and
+TEDDY, and TIM and JOHN E., and the rest of 'em. Let them talk whilst
+we build, JOHNNIE. 'Tis a cold, uncomfortable job, I admit; and
+whether "friendly" advice or hostile ammunition will do us the most
+damage I hardly know--yet. Fierce foes are sometimes easier to deal
+with than friendly funkers. A "Thunderer" in open opposition affrights
+a true Titan less than a treacherous Thersites in one's own camp. But,
+JOHNNIE, we've got to build up this Snow Man somehow, and on some
+plan! I only hope (_entre nous_, JOHNNIE) that a thaw won't set in,
+and melt it out of form and feature before it is fairly finished!
+
+    [_Left hard at it._
+
+    [Illustration: THE SNOW MAN.]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+    [Illustration: A DISTINCTION AND A DIFFERENCE.
+
+    _Mr. Wilkins._ "BEG PARDON, SIR POMPEY, BUT COULD YOU TELL ME
+    WHO THAT YOUNG GEN'L'MAN IS YOU JUST TOOK OFF YER 'AT TO?"
+
+    _Sir Pompey_ (_pompously_). "HE'S NOT A GENTLEMAN AT ALL,
+    WILKINS. HE'S A NOBLE LORD--THE RIGHT HONOURABLE LORD VISCOUNT
+    SPEEDICUTTS--A FRIEND OF MINE."
+
+    _Mr. Wilkins._ "INDEED, SIR POMPEY! BUT, I S'POSE _SOME_ OF
+    'EM'S GEN'L'MEN, SOMETIMES?"]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Great consternation at hearing of the arrest of "M. BLONDIN" in
+connection with the Panama scandals. Of course there can be only _one_
+BLONDIN, and some wiseacres at once applied the proverb about "Give
+him enough rope," &c. But BLONDIN never fell. It was quite another
+BLONDIN. The Hero of Niagara was not the Villain of the Panama
+piece--if villain he turn out to be. BLONDIN is still performing;
+always walking soberly, though elevated, on the rope that is quite
+tight. Maybe the rope gets tighter than ever at this jovial period,
+but BLONDIN, _the_ BLONDIN, our BLONDIN'S acts are in the sight of
+everybody, his proceedings are intelligible to all, though far above
+the heads of the people.
+
+       ***
+
+Still, whatever financial accident may have happened to M. BLONDIN, he
+has always kept his balance--on the rope.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+TO CHLORINDA.
+
+    (_With a Fan._)
+
+    [Illustration]
+
+  All in your glory you to-night
+  Will dance, and me they don't invite
+    Your charms to scan;
+  And, as a seal might send its skin
+  To please the girl it may not win,
+    I send a fan.
+
+  Behind this fan some other man
+    Your hand will hold;
+  Your fearless eyes, so bright and brown,
+  Will hide their gladness, glancing down,
+    No longer cold.
+  And your pale, perfect cheek will take
+  That colour for another's sake,
+    I ne'er controlled,--
+  Yet, ere you sleep, stray thoughts will creep
+    To days of old.
+
+  Of old! For in a single day,
+  When love first gilds a maiden's way,
+    The world grows new;
+  And from that new world you will send
+  Sweet pity to the absent friend
+    Who so loved you.
+
+  Loved--for my love will wither then;
+  I cannot share with other men
+    The dear delight
+  That dwells in your austerest tone,
+  That latent hope of joys unknown--
+  Though now you will not be my own,
+    Some day you might.
+
+  My trusted little friend of yore,
+  Of course you'd think my love a bore,
+    It's not romantic:
+  I've passed beyond the football stage,
+  And e'en despair is saved by age
+    From growing frantic.
+
+  No, like a veteran grim and grey,
+    With sling and crutch,
+  I am but fit to watch the fray
+  Where, in the world-old, witching way,
+  In other hands your fingers stay
+    With lingering touch,
+  That may mean nothing, or it may
+    Mean, oh! so much.
+
+  I'll wed some woman, prim of face,
+  Who'll duly fill the housewife's place,
+  And with her hard, domestic grace
+    Illusions scatter;
+  But sometimes when the stars are full,
+  While at my season'd pipe I pull,
+  I'll see my little love once more,
+  With brilliant lovers by the score,
+    Whose tributes flatter.
+  And, thinking of the light gone by,
+  Murmur with philosophic sigh,
+    "It doesn't matter."
+
+  And then, perchance, this fan you'll find,
+    When all the new romance is over.
+  Sweet, may you ne'er with troubled mind
+  Half wish you never had resigned,
+    Your truest lover.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Last week, Dr. ADLER gave, as appears by the extracts, an excellent
+Lecture on "Jewish Wit and Humour." He himself is well known as the
+_The Jew d'Esprit_.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+TEMPORARY CHANGE OF NAME.--Will Poplar Hospital be styled, "Un-pop'lar
+Hospital?"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"THE VERY LATEST."
+
+    ["A Cookery Autograph-book is the last idea. Each friend is
+    supposed to write a practical recipe for a dainty dish above
+    his or her signature."
+
+    _The Graphic._]
+
+  [Illustration]
+
+  No, MABEL, no;--though your behest
+    I always heed with rapt attention,
+  Most fervently I must protest
+    Against this horrible invention;
+  Your word has hitherto been law,
+  But this appears the final straw!
+
+  Obedient to imperious looks,
+    I've had to write, at your suggestion,
+  The answers in confession-books
+    To many an idiotic question;
+  I'll vow my favourite tint is blue
+  (The colour mostly worn by you);
+
+  I'll gladly draw a fancy sketch,
+    I'll make acrostics with elation,
+  I'll write you verses at a stretch,
+    Or give my views on vaccination;
+  But, even to fulfil your wishes,
+  I cannot manufacture dishes!
+
+  I know, in theory, how to make
+    The matutinal tea and coffee,
+  And, when at school, I used to bake
+    A gruesome mess described as toffee;
+  But these, which form my whole _cuisine_,
+  Are scarce the kind of thing you mean.
+
+  Of course I'd learn some more by heart,
+    If this could gain me your affection,
+  But fear the anguish on your part
+    Produced by faulty recollection;
+  On me, my MABEL, please to look
+  As lover only--not as Cook!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+CRINOLINE.
+
+    [Illustration]
+
+  Rumour whispers, so we glean
+  From the papers, there have been
+  Thoughts of bringing on the scene
+  This mad, monstrous, metal screen,
+  Hiding woman's graceful mien.
+  Better Jewish gabardine
+  Than, thus swelled out, satin's sheen!
+  Vilest garment ever seen!
+  Form unknown in things terrene;
+  Even monsters pliocene
+  Were not so ill-shaped, I ween.
+  Women wearing this machine,
+  Were they fat or were they lean--
+  Small as WORDSWORTH'S celandine,
+  Large as sail that's called lateen--
+  Simply swept the pavement clean:
+  Hapless man was crushed between
+  Flat as any tinned sardine.
+  Thing to rouse a Bishop's spleen,
+  Make a Canon or a Dean
+  Speak in language not serene.
+  We must all be very green,
+  And our senses not too keen,
+  If we can't say what we mean,
+  Write in paper, magazine,
+  Send petitions to the QUEEN,
+  Get the House to intervene.
+  Paris fashion's transmarine--
+  Let us stop by quarantine
+  Catastrophic Crinoline!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"More butter is coming from Victoria," says the _P. M. G._, "to the
+Mother Country." Our Colonies are not given to supplying us with this
+article of food to any great extent. It is generally the Mother
+Country that has buttered the Colonies.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+ON THREE POETS.
+
+    (_By the Fourth Party._)
+
+  SWINBURNE, AUSTIN, MORRIS,
+    Bardic busybodies,
+  Threnodies they wrote:--
+    _They_ were the Three Noddies!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Mrs. R. says that, in this cold weather, whenever she wants to know if
+there is to be a change, she consults her _thaw_mometer.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The amusing article, "A Man's Thoughts on Marriage," ought not to have
+appeared in _The Gentleman_, but in the _United Service Magazine_.
+This is evident.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+CONVERSATIONAL HINTS FOR YOUNG SHOOTERS.
+
+Before I proceed with the order of subjects which I have proposed to
+myself as the proper one to follow, I feel that I must revert for a
+moment to the question of "ladies at lunch." You may remember that
+some two or three weeks ago I ventured to offer some observations on
+this topic. Dear ladies, you can read for yourselves the winged words
+in which your adoring _Punch_ settled the matter. "By all means," I
+said, "come to lunch, if you must." What can be plainer or more
+direct? Bless your pretty, pouting faces, I am not responsible for the
+characters of my fellow-men, nor for the harsh language they use. If
+they behave like boors, and show an incomprehensible distaste for your
+delightful presence, am I, your constant friend, to be blamed? I
+cannot alter the nature of these barbarians. But what has happened
+since I published an article which had, at any rate, the merit of
+truthful portraiture? Why, I have been overwhelmed with epistolary
+reproaches in every variety of feminine hand-writing. "A CAREFUL
+MOTHER" writes from Dorset--a locality hitherto associated in my mind
+with butter rather than with blame--to protest that she has been so
+horrified by my cynical tone, that she does not intend to take me in
+any longer. She adds, that "_Punch_ has laid upon my drawing-room
+table for more than thirty years." Heavens, that I should have been so
+deeply, so ungrammatically, honoured without knowing it! Am I no
+longer to recline amid photograph albums, gift-books, and
+flower-vases, upon that sacred table? And are you, Madam, to spite a
+face which has always, I am certain, beamed upon me with a kindly
+consideration, by depriving it wantonly of its adorning and necessary
+nose. Heaven forbid! Withdraw for both our sakes that rash decision,
+while there is yet time, and restore me to my wonted place in your
+affections, and your drawing-room.
+
+But all are not like this. Here, for instance, is a sensible and
+temperate commentary, which it gives me pleasure to quote word for
+word as it was written:--
+
+DEAR MR. PUNCH,--I want to tell you that, although I am what one of
+your friends called "a solid woman," and ought to feel _deeply_ hurt
+by what you said about ladies at lunch, yet I liked that article the
+best. I think it was _awfully_ good. But don't you think you are all
+rather hard on ladies at shooting-boxes? My idea is that there ought
+to be some new rules about shooting-parties. At present, ladies are
+asked to amuse the men--at least that is my experience--and it is
+rather hard they may not sometimes go on the moors, if they want to.
+But, at the same time, I _quite_ understand that they are horribly in
+the way, and I am not surprised that the men don't want women about
+them when they are shooting. But couldn't they arrange to have a day
+now and then, when they could shoot all the morning, and devote
+themselves to amusing the women on the moors after lunch? Otherwise, I
+think there ought to be a rule that no women are to be invited to
+shooting-boxes. It is generally very dull for the women, and I feel
+sure the men would be quite as happy without them. I suppose the host
+might want his wife to be there, to look after things; but _she ought
+to strike_, and ask her lady-friends to do the same; and then they
+could go abroad, or to some jolly place, and enjoy themselves in their
+own way. Really we often get quite angry--at least I do--when men
+treat us as if we were so many dolls, and patronise us in their heavy
+way, and expect us to believe that the world was made entirely for
+them and their shooting-parties. There must be more give and take.
+And, if _we_ are to give you our sympathy and attention, _you_ must
+take our companionship a little oftener. We get so dull when we are
+all together.
+
+  Your sincere admirer, A LADY LUNCHER.
+
+I confess this simple letter touched an answering chord in my heart. I
+scarcely knew how to answer it. At last a brilliant thought struck me.
+I would show it to my tame Hussar-Captain, SHABRACK. That gallant son
+of Mars is not only a good sportsman, but he has, in common with many
+of his brother officers, the reputation of being a dashing, but
+discriminating worshipper at the shrine of beauty. At military and
+hunt balls the Captain is a stalwart performer, a despiser of mere
+programme engagements, and an invincible cutter-out of timid youths
+who venture to put forward their claims to a dance that the Captain
+has mentally reserved for himself. The mystery is how he has escaped
+scathless into what his friends now consider to be assured
+bachelor-hood. Most of his contemporaries, roystering, healthy, and
+seemingly flinty-hearted fellows, all of them, have long since gone
+down, one after another, before some soft and smiling little being,
+and are now trying to fit their incomes to the keep of perambulators,
+as well as of dog-carts. But SHABRACK has escaped. I found him at his
+Club, and showed him the letter, requesting him at the same time to
+tell me what he thought of it. I think he was flattered by my appeal,
+for he insisted on my immediate acceptance of a cigar six inches long,
+and proposed to me a tempting list of varied drinks. The Captain read
+the letter through twice carefully, and thus took up his parable:--
+
+"Look here, my son, don't you be put off by what the little woman
+says. She don't mean half of it. Get the hostess to strike!"--here he
+laughed loudly--"now that's a real good 'un. Why, they haven't got it
+in them. Fact is, they can't stand one another's company. She says as
+much, don't she? 'We get so dull when we are all together.' Well, that
+scarcely looks like goin' off on the strike together, does it? Don't
+you be alarmed, old quill-driver, they'll never run a strike of that
+kind for more than a day. They'll all come troopin' back, beggin' to
+be forgiven, and all that, and, by gum, we shall have to take 'em back
+too, just as we're all congratulatin' ourselves that we shan't have to
+go to any more blessed pic-nics. That's a woman's idea of enjoyin'
+herself in the country--nothin' but one round of pic-nics. I give you
+my word, when I was stayin' with old FRED DERRIMAN, in Perthshire,
+they reg'larly mapped out the whole place for pic-nics, and I'm dashed
+if they didn't spoil our best day's drivin by pic-nickin' in, 'oh,
+such a sweet place.' Truth is, they can't get along without us, my
+son, only they won't admit it, bless 'em! And, after all, we're better
+off when they're in the house, I'm bound to confess; so I don't mind
+lettin' 'em have a pic-nic or two, just to keep 'em sweet. Them's my
+sentiments, old cock, and you're welcome to them."
+
+I thanked the Captain for his courtesy, and withdrew. But if the whole
+thing is merely a matter of pic-nics, it is far simpler than I
+imagined.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+    [Illustration: TOO AFFECTIONATE BY HALF.
+
+    _Auntie._ "OH, YOU NAUGHTY BOY! WHAT ARE YOU DOING? SMOKING!
+    WHY YOU'LL NEVER GROW!"
+
+    _Artful Nephew._ "THAT'S JUST IT, AUNTIE. I DON'T WANT TO
+    GROW. I WANT TO KEEP THE SAME SIZE ALWAYS, SO THAT I CAN SIT
+    ON YOUR LAP, AN' LOVE YOU!"]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+    [Illustration: MR. PUNCH'S SKATING PARTY.]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+OUR BOOKING-OFFICE.
+
+"Have you read," asks one of the Baron's Assistants of his Chief,
+"Miss BRADDON's Christmas Annual? It is entitled, _The Misletoe
+Bough_, and contains some of the best short stories I have read
+lately. One of them, 'In Mr. CARTWRIGHT's Library,' is a remarkable
+combination of quaint, dry humour, and literary skill. Who is the
+clever author? But here are other stories, too, that interest and
+please, and, not least among them, a charming sketch, by the ever
+welcome editress. Bravo, Miss BRADDON!
+
+    [Illustration]
+
+"_Brownies and Rose-leaves_, by ROMA WHITE (INNES & CO.), is a pretty
+little book, prettily written, prettily illustrated by LESLIE BROOKE,
+and prettily bound," he continues. "Miss WHITE has a charming knack of
+writing musical verse, simple, rhythmical, delightful. To children and
+their parents, I say, take my tip (the only one parents will get at
+this season), and read ROMA WHITE's dainty, delicate, fresh and breezy
+book."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+ROBIN POOR FELLOW!
+
+_Robin Goodfellow_, by Mr. CARTON, is not a brilliant play, as its
+dialogue lacks epigrammatic sparkle: neither is it an interesting
+play, as the plot, such as it is, is too weak for words,--which, by
+the way, at once accounts for the absence of the sparkle
+above-mentioned.
+
+Three questions must have occurred to those who have already seen the
+play, and which those who may hereafter see it will be sure to ask
+themselves,--and they are these:--
+
+    [Illustration: Nearly burning his fingers. Mr. Hare acting
+    with Grace.]
+
+First. Why should _Grace's_ father, _Valentine Barbrook_, tell her of
+the means by which he had brought about the betrothal of _Hugh Rokeby_
+to _Constance_?
+
+Secondly. This being so, why allow six weeks to elapse when a word
+from the one girl, who knows, to the other, who doesn't, would explain
+everything?
+
+Thirdly. If a sudden shock would kill the grandmother, surely, in the
+course of six weeks, _Grace_ would have found out that her shortest
+and best way was to tell the truth to her cousin, without mentioning
+it to the old lady.
+
+If in doubt, why didn't she confide in the Doctor, who would at once
+have told her whether the nature of the communication she had to make
+was of a sufficiently startling nature to kill the old lady right off
+or not?
+
+The fact is, it was necessary to keep the lover, _Mr. Stanley
+Trevenen_, away for some time, in order to allow of there being a
+glimmer of probability in the announcement of his having thrown over
+the girl to whom he is devotedly attached, and having married somebody
+else whom he met abroad. "Now," says the dramatist, "what is the
+shortest possible space of time I can allow for this? Ahem!--say a
+month." So he gives him a month. "Then," says he, next, "what is the
+shortest possible time we can allow for an engagement and a marriage?
+Say six weeks. Good. Six weeks be it. Only, hang it, this muddle has
+to last for six weeks! Well, it can't be helped. I can't give any more
+trouble to the bothering plot; and, as after all, there's a capital
+character for Mr. HARE, and not at all a bad one for Miss RORKE, with
+a fairish one for FORBES ROBERTSON, why, if Mr. HARE will accept the
+play, and do it, I should say that, cast and played as it will be, it
+is pretty sure to be a success."
+
+    [Illustration: The Happy Pair.]
+
+So much for the Author and the Play. As to the Actors, Mr. HARE has
+had many a better part, and this is but an inferior species of a genus
+with which the public has long been familiar; but there is no one who
+can touch him in a part of this description. Admirable! most
+admirable! _Barbrook_ is in reality a silly elderly scamp, with all
+the will to be a villain but not endowed with the brains requisite for
+that line of life. Thus, the Author, unconsciously, has created him.
+But Mr. HARE invests this feather-headed scoundrel with Iago-ish and
+Mephistophelian characteristics, that go very near to make the
+audience believe that, after all, there _is_ something in the part,
+and also in the plot. But the part is only a snowman, and melts away
+under the sunlight of criticism. Miss KATE RORKE is charming. It is a
+monotonous and wearisome part, and the merit of it is her own. Miss
+NORREYS is very good but the girl is insipid. Miss COMPTON, as the
+good-hearted, knowing, fast lady, wins us, as she proves herself to be
+the real _Robin Goodfellow_, the real good fairy of the piece, _Robin
+Goodfellow_ is a misnomer, unless the aforesaid _Robin_ be dissociated
+from _Puck_: but it is altogether a bad title as applied to this piece
+for, as with Mr. CARTON's piece at the St. James's, _Liberty Hall_, it
+is a title absolutely thrown away. Mr. FORBES ROBERTSON is as good as
+the part permits, and it is the Author's fault that he is not better.
+Mr. GILBERT HARE gives a neat bit of character as the Doctor, and Mr.
+DONALD ROBERTSON may by now have made something of the rather foolish
+Clergyman (whether Rector, Vicar, or Curate I could not make out),
+whose stupid laugh began by making a distinct hit, and, on frequent
+repetition, became a decided bore. It is played in one Scene and three
+Acts, and no doubt in the course of a fortnight certain repetitious
+and needless lines will have been excised, and the piece will play
+closer, and may be an attraction, but not a great one, for some time
+to come. At all events, the part of _Valentine Barbrook_ will add
+another highly-finished picture to Mr. HARE'S gallery of eccentric
+comedy-character. I think of him with delight, and exclaim, once
+more--Admirable!
+
+    PRIVATE BOX.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+At Drury Lane the Baddeley Cake Meeting was a Goodly sight.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Symbol: Right-Pointing Hand] NOTICE.--Rejected Communications or
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+  <title>The Project Gutenberg eBook of Punch, January 14th, 1893.</title>
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+<pre>
+
+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Punch, or the London Charivari, Volume 104,
+January 14, 1893, 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 104, January 14, 1893
+
+Author: Various
+
+Release Date: May 24, 2007 [EBook #21598]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PUNCH ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Punch, or the London Charivari, Juliet
+Sutherland and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team
+at https://www.pgdp.net
+
+
+
+
+
+
+</pre>
+
+
+<h1>PUNCH,<br />
+  OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.</h1>
+
+  <h2>Vol. 104.</h2>
+  <hr class="full" />
+
+  <h2>JANUARY 14th, 1893.</h2>
+  <hr class="full" />
+
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="page13" id="page13">[pg 13]</a></span></p>
+<h2>THE SCHOOL FOR PATRIOTISM.</h2>
+
+
+<p class="note">[A Fund has been raised to supply the School Board with Union-Jacks,
+with a view to increasing the loyalty of the pupils.&mdash;<i>Daily Paper.</i>]</p>
+
+
+<blockquote><span class="smcap">Scene</span>&mdash;<i>A Room of the School Board, decorated with flags and trophies
+of arms.</i> Teacher <i>discovered instructing his pupils in English
+History.</i></blockquote>
+
+
+<p><i>Teacher.</i> And now we come to the Battle of Trafalgar, which was won
+by <span class="smcap">Nelson</span> in the early part of the present century. As it is my object
+to increase your patriotism, I may tell you that "<span class="smcap">Britannia</span> rules the
+waves, and Britons never, never, never will be slaves!" Repeat that in
+chorus.</p>
+
+<p><i>Pupils.</i> "Rule, <span class="smcap">Britannia, Britannia</span> rules the waves; Britons never,
+never, never will be slaves!"</p>
+
+<p><i>Teacher.</i> Thank you very much; and to show how the <i>esprit de corps</i>
+in Her Majesty's Ships-of-War is preserved, I will now dance the
+Sailor's Hornpipe.</p>
+
+<blockquote><p>[<i>Does so.</i></p></blockquote>
+
+<p><i>First Pupil.</i> Please, Sir, do Englishmen always win?</p>
+
+<p><i>Teacher.</i> Invariably. If they retire, they do not retreat. Can you
+tell me what a retirement of troops in the face of the enemy is
+called?</p>
+
+<p><i>Second Pupil.</i> Bolting, Sir.</p>
+
+<p><i>Teacher.</i> Nothing of the sort. Go to the bottom of the class, Sirrah!
+Bolting, indeed! Next boy!</p>
+
+<p><i>Third Pupil.</i> It is called "a strategic movement to the rear," Sir.</p>
+
+<p><i>Teacher.</i> Quite right; and now we come to the Battle of Waterloo,
+which you will remember was won on the 18th of June, 1815. But perhaps
+this may be a convenient time for the introduction of the Union-Jack
+War Dance, which, as you all know, has been recently ordered to be
+part of our studies by the Committee of the School Board. Now then,
+please, take your places.</p>
+
+<blockquote><p>[The Pupils <i>seize the flags hanging to the walls, and dance merrily.
+At the conclusion of the exercise they replace the flags, and resume
+their customary places.</i></p></blockquote>
+
+<p><i>First Pupil.</i> If you please, can you tell us anything about the
+Union-Jack?</p>
+
+<p><i>Teacher.</i> As I have explained on many occasions, when you have been
+good and obliging enough to put the same question to me, I am
+delighted to have the opportunity. You must know that the Union-Jack
+represents the greatest nation in the world. This nation is our own
+beloved country, and it is gratifying to know that there are no people
+so blessed as our own. The Union-Jack flies in every quarter of the
+globe, and where it is seen, slavery becomes impossible, and tyranny a
+thing of the past. To be an Englishman is to be the noblest creature
+on the earth. One Englishman is worth twenty specimens of other
+nationalities; he is more conscientious, more clever, more beautiful
+than any other living man, and it is a good thing for the world that
+he exists. <i>(Looking at watch.</i>) And now, as we have rather exceeded
+our usual time for study, we will depart after the customary ceremony.</p>
+
+<blockquote><p>[<i>The</i> Pupils <i>then sing the National Anthem, and the School dismisses
+itself with three cheers for</i> <span class="smcap">Her Majesty</span>. <i>Curtain.</i></p></blockquote>
+
+<hr />
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 50%;">
+<a href="./images/013.png"><img src="images/013.png" width="100%" alt="ON NE PATINE PAS AVEC" title="" /></a><br />
+<h3>&quot;ON NE &#39;PATINE&#39; PAS AVEC L&#39;AMOUR.&quot;</h3><br />
+(With Apologies to the Shade of Alfred de Musset.)
+</div>
+
+<hr />
+
+<h2>BUTTERS BUTTERED.</h2>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Sir</span>,&mdash;I have been deeply thrilled by the suggestion for curing the
+Agricultural depression which Messrs. <span class="smcap">Macdougall</span>, of Mark Lane, have
+made. I am not myself an Agriculturist; still, in&mdash;or rather near&mdash;the
+suburban villa in which I reside, I have an old cow, and a donkey on
+which my children ride. Directly I heard that the way to keep animals
+warm and comfortable in Winter was to smear them all over with oil,
+thus saving much of the cost of feeding them, I tried the plan on the
+aged cow. Perhaps the oil I used was not sufficiently pure. At all
+events the animal, which had never been known before to do more than
+proceed at a leisurely walk, rushed at frantic speed into the garden,
+and tossed my wife's mother into a cucumber-frame. She has now gone
+home. Undeterred by the comparative failure of this attempt, I smeared
+our donkey with a pint of the best castor-oil, just before setting out
+on its daily amble, with the children (in panniers) on its back. It
+did not appear to relish the treatment, as it instantly broke loose,
+and was found, five miles off, in a village pound, while the children
+were landed in a neighbouring ditch. I am writing to Messrs.
+<span class="smcap">Macdougall</span>, to ask for particulars of how the oil is to be applied. I
+am sure it is an excellent idea, if the animals could be brought to
+see it in the same light.</p>
+
+<p class="indent">Yours, experimentally,</p>
+<p class="right"><span class="smcap">Darwin Edison Gubbins</span>.</p>
+
+<hr class="short" />
+
+<p><span class="smcap">My Dear Mr. Punch,&mdash;Smith</span> Minor, who is staying at our house for part
+of the holidays, said what good fun it would be to try the <span class="smcap">Macdougall</span>
+plan on my Uncle from India. He is always cold and shivering. We
+waited till he was having a nap after dinner in the arm-chair, and we
+coated him over with butter that <span class="smcap">Smith</span> Minor got from Cook. (Cook
+never will give <i>me</i> butter.) When we got to his hair he unfortunately
+woke up, so that is probably why the plan did not succeed. We thought
+he would be pleased to feel warmer, but he wasn't. Uncles are often
+ungrateful, <span class="smcap">Smith</span> Minor says. And it <i>did</i> succeed in one way, because
+he seemed awfully hot and red in the face when he found what we had
+been doing. Perhaps we ought not to have tried smearing him on his
+clothes, but how could we get his clothes off without waking him?
+<span class="smcap">Smith</span> Minor says it's a pity we didn't drug him. N.B.&mdash;I have been
+stopped going to the Pantomime for this, and <span class="smcap">Smith</span> Minor is to be sent
+home!</p>
+
+<p class="indent">Your dejected</p>
+<p class="right"><span class="smcap">Tommy</span>.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Sir</span>,&mdash;I want to bring an action against Messrs. <span class="smcap">Macdougall</span>, of Mark
+Lane. I tried their smearing plan on a horse in my stable that had a
+huge appetite, and was always getting cold if left out in the wet. I
+used paraffin, and at first the animal seemed really grateful. In the
+night I was called up by a fearful noise, and found that the horse's
+appetite had not got at all less owing to the oil; on the contrary, it
+seemed to have eaten up most of the woodwork of the stable, and was
+plunging about madly. The paraffin caught light, and the stable was
+burned, and the horse too. In future I shall feed my horse in the
+usual way, not on the outside.</p>
+
+<p class="indent">Yours,</p>
+<p class="right"><span class="smcap">Titus Oats</span>.</p>
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="page14" id="page14">[pg 14]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2>THE THIN BROWN LINE.</h2>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 50%;">
+<a href="./images/014.png"><img src="images/014.png" width="100%" alt="THE THIN BROWN LINE." title="" /></a>
+</div>
+
+<p class="note">["Decidedly the most gratifying feature in the accounts of these
+engagements which have reached us, is the proof which they contain of
+the remarkable progress in all soldierly qualities made by the
+fellaheen forces, under the guidance and instruction of their British
+Officers."&mdash;<i>The Times.</i>]</p>
+
+<p class="indent"><i>Tommy Atkins, loquitur</i>:&mdash;</p>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i2">"<span class="smcap">We've</span> fought with many men acrost the seas,</p>
+<p class="i4">And some of 'em was brave, an' some was not."</p>
+<p class="i2">(So Mister <span class="smcap">Kipling</span> says. His 'ealth, boys, please!</p>
+<p class="i4">'<i>E</i> doesn't give us <span class="smcap">Tommies</span> Tommy-rot.)</p>
+<p class="i2">We didn't think you over-full of pluck,</p>
+<p class="i4">When you scuttled from our baynicks like wild 'orses;</p>
+<p class="i2">But you're mendin', an' 'ere's wishing of you luck!</p>
+<p class="i4">Wich you're proving an addition to our forces.</p>
+<p>So 'ere's <i>to</i> you, though 'tis true that at El Teb you cut and ran;</p>
+<p>You're improvin' from a scuttler to a first-class fighting man;</p>
+<p>You can 'old your own at present when the bullets hiss and buzz,</p>
+<p>And in time you may be equal to a round with Fuzzy-Wuz!</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i2">You've been lammed and licked sheer out of go an' grit,</p>
+<p class="i2">From the times of Pharaoh down to the Khe-<i>dive</i>;</p>
+<p class="i4">Till you 'ardly feel yerself one bloomin' bit,</p>
+<p class="i2">And I almost wonder you are left alive.</p>
+<p class="i4">But we've got you out of a good deal of <i>that</i>,<span class='pagenum'><a name="page15" id="page15">[pg 15]</a></span></p>
+<p class="i2">Sir <span class="smcap">Evelyn</span> and the rest of us. You <i>foller</i>;</p>
+<p class="i4">And you'll fight yer weight in (Soudanese) wild cat</p>
+<p class="i2">One day, nor let the Fuzzies knock you oller.</p>
+<p>Then 'ere's <i>to</i> you, my fine Fellah, and the missis and the kid!</p>
+<p>When you stand a Dervish devil-rush, and do as you are bid,</p>
+<p>You'll just make a <span class="smcap">Tommy Atkins</span> of a quiet Coptic sort;</p>
+<p>And I shouldn't wonder then, mate, if the Fuzzies see some sport.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i2">Some would like us lads to clear out! Wot say <i>you</i>?</p>
+<p class="i4"><i>We</i> don't tumble to the Parties and their fakes;</p>
+<p class="i2">But I guess we don't mean scuttle. If we <i>do</i>,</p>
+<p class="i4">We shall make the bloomingest o' black mistakes;</p>
+<p class="i2">With the 'owling Dervishes you've stood a brush,</p>
+<p class="i4">With a baynick you can cross a shovel-spear;</p>
+<p class="i2">But leave yer to the French, and Fuzzy's rush?</p>
+<p class="i4">That won't be a 'ealthy game for many a year.</p>
+<p>So 'ere's <i>to</i> you, my fine Fellah! May you cut and run no more,</p>
+<p>Though the 'acking, 'owling, 'ayrick-'eaded niggers rush and roar,</p>
+<p>We back you, 'elp you, train you, and to make the bargain fair,</p>
+<p>We won't leave you&mdash;yet&mdash;to Fuz-Wuz&mdash;him as broke a British Square.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i2">You ain't no "thin red" 'eroes, no, not yet,</p>
+<p class="i4">But a patient, docile, plucky, "thin brown line."</p>
+<p class="i2">May be useful in its way, my boy, you bet!</p>
+<p class="i4">All good fighters may shake fists, you know&mdash;'ere's mine!</p>
+<p class="i2">You're a daisy, you're a dasher, you're a dab!</p>
+<p class="i4">I'll fight with you, or join you on a spree</p>
+<p class="i2">Let the skulkers and the scuttlers stow their gab,</p>
+<p class="i4"><span class="smcap">Tommy Atkins</span> drinks your 'ealth with three times three!</p>
+<p>So 'ere's <i>to</i> you, my fine Fellah! 'E who funked the 'ot Soudan,</p>
+<p>And the furious Fuzzy-Wuzzies, grows a first-class fighting-man:</p>
+<p>An' 'ere's <i>to</i> you, my fine Fellah, coffee 'ide and inky hair</p>
+<p>May yet shoulder stand to shoulder with me in a British Square!</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+<hr />
+
+
+<h2><a name="REFLECTION_BY_A_READER_OF_REMINISCENCES" id="REFLECTION_BY_A_READER_OF_REMINISCENCES"></a>REFLECTION BY A READER OF "REMINISCENCES."</h2>
+
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<p>Yes, life <i>is</i> hard. Our fellows judge us coldly;</p>
+<p class="i2">We mostly dwell in fog, and dance in fetters;</p>
+<p>But sweeter far to face oblivion boldly,</p>
+<p class="i2">Than front posterity through a <i>Life and Letters.</i></p>
+<p>That Memory's the Mother of the Muses,</p>
+<p class="i2">We're told. Alas! it must have been the Furies!</p>
+<p>Mnemosyne her privilege abuses,&mdash;</p>
+<p class="i2">Nothing from her distorting glass secure is.</p>
+<p>Life is a Sphinx: folk cannot solve her riddles,</p>
+<p>So they've recourse to spiteful taradiddles,</p>
+<p>Which they dub "Reminiscences." Kind fate,</p>
+<p>From, the fool's Memory preserve the Great!</p></div>
+</div>
+<hr />
+
+<p>"<span class="smcap">How London Theatres are Warmed.</span>"&mdash;By having first-rate pieces. This
+prevents any chance of a "frost."</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Song for the Liberator Society, and Others.</span>&mdash;"Oh, where, and oh where,
+is our J. S. B-<span class="smcap">lf-r</span> gone?"</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<div class="poem">
+<p>When the <i>P. M. Gazette</i> by a Tory was book'd,</p>
+<p>The Editor "Cust," and its readers were Cooke'd.</p>
+</div>
+
+<hr />
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 50%;">
+<a href="./images/015.png"><img src="images/015.png" width="100%" alt="SURGIT AMARI ALIQUID" title="" /></a><br />
+<b>&quot;SURGIT AMARI ALIQUID&mdash;&mdash;&quot;</b><br />
+<p>&quot;And whom did you take into Supper, Mike?&quot; &quot;Maud Willoughby.&quot;</p>
+<p>&quot;You lucky Boy! Why she&#39;s a Darling!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Yes&mdash;but there was another Fellow on her other Side!&quot;</p>
+</div>
+
+<hr />
+
+<h2><a name="ON_AN_OLD_QUARTETTE" id="ON_AN_OLD_QUARTETTE"></a>ON AN OLD QUARTETTE.</h2>
+
+<p class="note">[<i>Pantaloon, Clown, Harlequin, and Columbine</i> are the characters of an
+old sixteenth-century drama, acted in dumb-show. "<i>Pantaleone</i>" is a
+Venetian type; <i>Columbine</i> means a "little dove."]</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<p><span class="smcap">While</span> Fairyland and Fairy tales</p>
+<p class="i2">'Neath flaunting pageants fall,</p>
+<p>And over Pantomime prevails</p>
+<p class="i2">The Muse of Music Hall.</p>
+<p>Still echoes, wafted through the din,</p>
+<p class="i2">A lilt of one old tune&mdash;</p>
+<p>Of Columbine and Harlequin,</p>
+<p class="i2">Of Clown and Pantaloon.</p>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza"><p>Their faded frolics, tarnished show</p>
+<p class="i2">Are shadows faint and rude</p>
+<p>Of mimes who centuries ago</p>
+<p class="i2">Joked, caramboled and wooed,</p>
+<p>Of masques Venetian, Florentine,</p>
+<p class="i2">Of moyen-age renown&mdash;</p>
+<p>Of Harlequin and Columbine,</p>
+<p class="i2">Of Pantaloon and Clown.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza"><p>Not horseplay rough, the Saraband</p>
+<p class="i2">They danced in vanished years,</p>
+<p>But Love and Satire hand-in-hand,</p>
+<p class="i2">And laughter linked with tears,</p>
+<p>And Youth equipped his dove to win,</p>
+<p class="i2">And Age, who grudged the boon;&mdash;</p>
+<p>Sweet Columbine, bold Harlequin,</p>
+<p class="i2">Cross Clown and Pantaloon.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza"><p>Our Children-Critics now who deign</p>
+<p class="i2">To greet this honoured jest,</p>
+<p>Acclaiming, "Here we are again!"</p>
+<p class="i2">With patronising zest,</p>
+<p>They mark no soft Italian moon</p>
+<p class="i2">Which once was wont to shine</p>
+<p>On Harlequin and Pantaloon,</p>
+<p class="i2">And Clown and Columbine!</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza"><p>But, spangled pair of lovers true,</p>
+<p class="i2">And, whitened schemers twain,</p>
+<p>The scholar hears in each of you</p>
+<p class="i2">A note of that quatrain;</p>
+<p>The dim Renaissance seems to spin</p>
+<p class="i2">Around your satin shoon,</p>
+<p>Fair Columbine, feat Harlequin,</p>
+<p class="i2">Sly Clown and Pantaloon!</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Everyone</span> sincerely hopes that Sir <span class="smcap">West Ridgway</span> will make a good bag
+during his visit to the Moors. "Ridgway's Food" is something that can
+be swallowed easily, and is so palatable as to be quite a More-ish
+sort of dish. Good luck to the experienced and widely-travelled Sir
+<span class="smcap">East-and-West Ridgway</span>. Our English <span class="smcap">Rosebery</span> couldn't have made a
+better choice.</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class="smcap">To a Brewer</span> (<i>by Our Christmas Clown</i>).&mdash;"Wish you a Hoppy New Year!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="page16" id="page16">[pg 16]</a></span></p>
+
+<hr />
+
+
+<h2><a name="THE_MAN_WHO_WOULD" id="THE_MAN_WHO_WOULD"></a>THE MAN WHO WOULD.</h2>
+
+<h3>VI.&mdash;THE MAN WHO WOULD BE A SOUL.</h3>
+
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Lincoln B. Swezey</span> was a high-toned and inquiring American citizen, who
+came over to study our Institootions. He carried letters to almost
+everybody; Dukes, Radicals, Authors, eminent British Prize-fighters,
+Music-hall buffoons, and he prosecuted his examination steadily. He
+did not say much, and he never was seen to laugh, but he kept a
+note-book, and he seemed to contemplate in his own mind, The Ideal
+American, and to try to live up to that standard. When he did speak,
+it was in the interrogative, and he pastured his intellect on our
+high-class Magazines.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Lincoln B.</span> discovered many things, and noted them down for his work on
+<i>Social Dry Rot in Europe</i>, but one matter puzzled him. He read in
+papers or reviews, and he vaguely heard talk of a secret institution,
+the Society of Souls. They were going to run a newspaper; they were
+<i>not</i> going to run a newspaper. There was a poem in connection with
+them, which mystified <span class="smcap">Lincoln B. Swezey</span> not a little; he "allowed it
+was darned personal," but further than that his light did not
+penetrate. He went to a little Club, of which he was a temporary
+member; it was not fashionable, and did not seem to want to be, and
+<span class="smcap">Swezey</span> thought it flippant. There he asked, "What <i>are</i> the Souls,
+anyhow?" "<i>Societas omnium animarum</i>," somebody answered, and <span class="smcap">Swezey</span>
+exclaimed "Say!" "They are a congregation of ladies. Their statutes
+decree that they are to be <i>bene nat&aelig;, bene vestit&aelig;</i>, and
+<i>mediocriter</i>,&mdash;I don't remember what."</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Swezey</span> perceived that he was being trifled with, and turned the
+conversation to the superior culture and scholarship of American
+politicians, with some thoughts on canvas-backed ducks.</p>
+
+<p>He next applied to a lady, whom he regarded as at once fashionable and
+well-informed, and asked her, "Who the Souls were, anyhow?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, a horrid, stuck-up set of people," said this Pythoness. "They
+have passwords, and wear a silver gridiron."</p>
+
+<p>"Why on earth do they do that?" asked <span class="smcap">Swezey</span>.</p>
+
+<p>"No doubt for some improper, or blasphemous reason. Don't be a
+Soul&mdash;you had better be a Skate. I am a Skate. We wear a silver skate,
+don't you see" (and she showed him a model of an Acme Skate in
+silver), "with the motto, <i>Celer et Audax</i>&mdash;'Fast and Forward.'"</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Swezey</span> expressed his pride at being admitted to these mysteries&mdash;but
+still pursued his inquiries.</p>
+
+<p>"What do the Souls <i>do</i>?"</p>
+
+<p>"All sorts of horrid things. They have a rule that no Soul is ever to
+speak to anybody who is not a Soul, in society, you know. And they
+have a rule that no Soul is ever to marry a Soul."</p>
+
+<p>"Exogamy!" said <span class="smcap">Swezey</span>, and began to puzzle out the probable results
+and causes of this curious prohibition.</p>
+
+<p>"I don't know what you mean," said the lady, "and I don't know why you
+are so curious about them. They all read the same books at the same
+time, and they sacrifice wild asses at the altar of the Hyperborean
+Apollo, <span class="smcap">Ibsen</span>, you know."</p>
+
+<p>These particulars were calculated to excite <span class="smcap">Swezey</span> in the highest
+degree. He wrote a letter on the subject to the <i>Chanticleer</i>, a
+newspaper in Troy, Ill., of which he was a correspondent, and it was
+copied, with zinco-type illustrations, into all the journals of the
+habitable globe, and came back to England like the fabled boomerang.
+Meanwhile <span class="smcap">Swezey</span> was cruising about, in town and country, looking
+out for persons wearing silver gridirons. He never found any, and the
+more he inquired, the more puzzled he became. He was informed that a
+treatise on the subject existed, but neither at the British Museum,
+nor at any of the newspaper offices, could he obtain an example of
+this rare work, which people asserted that they had seen and read.</p>
+
+<p>Finally <span class="smcap">Swezey</span> made the acquaintance of a lady who was rumoured darkly
+to be learned in the matter. To her he poured forth expressions of his
+consuming desire to be initiated, and to sacrifice at the shrine.</p>
+
+<p>"There is not any shrine," said his acquaintance.</p>
+
+<div class="figright" style="width: 33%">
+<a href="./images/016.png"><img src="images/016.png" width="100%" alt="Then what in the universe is it all about?" title="" /></a><br />
+&quot;Then what in the universe is it all about?&quot;
+</div>
+
+<p>"Well, I guess I want bad to be a Soul&mdash;an honorary one, of course&mdash;a
+temporary member."</p>
+
+<p>"There are conditions," said the Priestess.</p>
+
+<p>"If there's a subscription"&mdash;&mdash;<span class="smcap">Swezey</span> began.</p>
+
+<p>"There is not any subscription."</p>
+
+<p>"If there's an oath"&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"There is not any oath."</p>
+
+<p>"Well what are the conditions, anyhow?"</p>
+
+<p>"Are you extremely beautiful?"</p>
+
+<p>Among the faults of <span class="smcap">Swezey</span>, personal vanity was not reckoned. He shook
+his head sadly, at the same time intimating that he guessed no one
+would turn round in Broadway to look at the prettiest Englishwoman
+alive.</p>
+
+<p>Afterwards, he reflected that this was hardly the right thing to have
+said.</p>
+
+<p>"Are you extremely diverting?"</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Swezey</span> admitted that gaiety was not his forte. Still, he pined for
+information.</p>
+
+<p>"What does the Society <i>do</i>?" he asked.</p>
+
+<p>"There is not any Society."</p>
+
+<p>"Then why do they call themselves Souls?"</p>
+
+<p>"But they don't call themselves anything whatever."</p>
+
+<p>"Then why are they called Souls?"</p>
+
+<p>"Because they&mdash;&mdash;but no! That is the Mystery which cannot be divulged
+to the profane."</p>
+
+<p>"Then what in the universe is it all about?" asked <span class="smcap">Swezey</span>; but this
+was a problem to which no answer was vouchsafed.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Swezey</span> is still going around, and still asking questions. But he has
+moments of despondency, in which he is inclined to allow that the poor
+islanders possess, after all, something akin to that boasted
+inheritance of his native land, the Great American Joke. "Guess
+they've played it on me," is the burden of his most secret
+meditations.</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<h2><a name="THE_INFANTS_GUIDE_TO_KNOWLEDGE" id="THE_INFANTS_GUIDE_TO_KNOWLEDGE"></a>THE INFANT'S GUIDE TO KNOWLEDGE.</h2>
+
+<p class="center">(<i>Revised to date by Mr. Punch.</i>)</p>
+
+
+<p><i>Question.</i> What is an Infant?</p>
+
+<p><i>Answer.</i> A guileless child who has not yet reached twenty-one years
+of age.</p>
+
+<p><i>Q.</i> What is a year?</p>
+
+<p><i>A.</i> An unknown quantity to a lady after forty. And this reply is
+distinctly smart.</p>
+
+<p><i>Q.</i> What is "smartness"?</p>
+
+<p><i>A.</i> The art of appearing to belong to a good set.</p>
+
+<p><i>Q.</i> What is a good set?&mdash;<i>A.</i> A clique that prefers modes to
+morality, <i>chic</i> to comfort, and frivolity to family ties.</p>
+
+<p><i>Q.</i> What is <i>chic</i>?&mdash;<i>A.</i> An indefinable something, implying "go,"
+"fast and loose style," "slap-dash."</p>
+
+<p><i>Q.</i> What is a dinner-party?</p>
+
+<p><i>A.</i> A large subject, that cannot be disposed of in a paragraph.</p>
+
+<p><i>Q.</i> What is a subject?&mdash;<i>A.</i> Something distinct from Royalty.</p>
+
+<p><i>Q.</i> Can one be distinct after dinner?&mdash;<i>A.</i> Yes,&mdash;with difficulty.</p>
+
+<p><i>Q.</i> What is a difficulty?</p>
+
+<p><i>A.</i> When of a pecuniary character&mdash;the time following the using up of
+the pecuniary resources of your friends.</p>
+
+<p><i>Q.</i> What is a friend?</p>
+
+<p><i>A.</i> A man who dines with you&mdash;a past enemy or a future foe.</p>
+
+<p><i>Q.</i> What is bad champagne?&mdash;<i>A.</i> A fruity effervescing beverage
+costing about thirty shillings the dozen.</p>
+
+<p><i>Q.</i> What is good?&mdash;<i>A.</i> Cannot reply until I have received samples.</p>
+
+<p><i>Q.</i> How can an inexperienced diner discover that he has taken bad
+champagne?</p>
+
+<p><i>A.</i> By the condition of his head on the following morning.</p>
+
+<p><i>Q.</i> What is a head?&mdash;<i>A.</i> A necessary alternative to money.</p>
+
+<p><i>Q.</i> What is money?</p>
+
+<p><i>A.</i> The only satisfactory representative of credit.</p>
+
+<p><i>Q.</i> What are representatives?</p>
+
+<p><i>A.</i> The mouthpieces of voters mustered in the House of Commons.</p>
+
+<p><i>Q.</i> What is mustard?</p>
+
+<p><i>A.</i> The chief ingredient of breakfast, after a night of it with your
+friends, when your appetite requires coaxing.</p>
+
+<p><i>Q.</i> What is the future?&mdash;<i>A.</i> To-morrow, and the coming centuries.</p>
+
+<p><i>Q.</i> And the past?&mdash;<i>A.</i> Two minutes ago, and all that went before.</p>
+
+<p><i>Q.</i> And the present?&mdash;<i>A.</i> The right time for bringing the current
+instalment of the Infant's Guide to a prompt conclusion.<span class='pagenum'><a name="page17" id="page17">[pg 17]</a></span></p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<h2><a name="ENCORE_ALADDIN" id="ENCORE_ALADDIN"></a>"ENCORE, ALADDIN!"</h2>
+
+
+<div class="figleft" style="width: 30%">
+<a href="./images/017a.png"><img src="images/017a.png" width="100%" alt="Notes for the Storey of Aladdin, supplied by M.Jacobi." title="" /></a><br />
+Notes for the <i>Storey of Aladdin</i>, supplied by M.
+Jacobi.
+</div>
+
+<div class="figright" style="width: 30%">
+<a href="./images/017b.png"><img src="images/017b.png" width="100%" alt="Marie-Aladdin." title="" /></a><br />
+Marie-Aladdin and the Electric Light Pollini.
+</div>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Aladdin</span> at the Alhambra is a genuine "Ballet Extravaganza," the story
+being told in pantomimic action, illustrated by <span class="smcap">M. Jacobi's</span>
+sympathetic music. <i>Aladdin</i> was an excellent subject for Mr. <span class="smcap">John
+Hollingshead</span> to take, though I venture to think that our old friend
+<i>Blue Beard</i> would be a still better one. The only fault I find with
+<i>Aladdin</i> is that it is too soon over. It certainly will take rank
+among the most superb and the most dramatic spectacles ever placed on
+the Alhambra stage. <i>Aladdin</i> ought to have been made much more of, as
+a sort of <i>L'Enfant Prodigue.</i> What a chance there would have been for
+him in games with the street-boys! Mlle. <span class="smcap">Legnani</span>&mdash;so called, of
+course, from the graceful facility with which she remains for several
+seconds at a time on one leg&mdash;is both a pretty and nimble
+representative of the Dancing Princess. The <i>Slave of the Ring</i> does
+not appear in this story, as far as I could gather, only the <i>Spirit
+of the Lamp</i>, Signorina <span class="smcap">Pollini</span>, puts in an appearance, and a very
+splendid appearance it is too! Mr. <span class="smcap">John Hollingshead</span> is to be
+congratulated on having struck out a new line&mdash;though how he or the
+<span class="smcap">Lord Chamberlain</span> could "<i>strike out a new line</i>" where there is no
+dialogue, will ever remain a mystery, even to <span class="smcap">M. Jacobi</span> who knows most
+things well, and music better than anything. Mlle. <span class="smcap">Marie</span> is a
+sprightly <i>Aladdin</i>, her pantomimic action being remarkably good. How
+many <i>Aladdins</i> have I seen! Whatever may become of other fairy
+tales&mdash;though all the best fairy tales are immortal&mdash;this of <i>Aladdin</i>
+will serve the stage for ever. At least, so thinks <span class="smcap">Private Box</span>.</p>
+
+<hr />
+<h3>CHEAP LAW IN THE CITY.</h3>
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 100%;">
+<p>
+<i>Probable Development of the new &quot;London Chamber of Arbitration,&quot; for
+the economical Settlement of Disputes without recourse to
+Litigation.</i></p>
+<a href="./images/017c.png"><img src="images/017c.png" width="100%" alt="CHEAP LAW IN THE CITY." title="" /></a>
+</div>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Basqueing in a New Language.</span>&mdash;Much interest has been excited by the
+report that Mr. <span class="smcap">Gladstone</span>, during his stay at Biarritz, used up his
+spare moments by studying the Basque tongue. <span class="smcap">Autolycus</span> hears that,
+contrary to his usual habit, the Right Hon. Gentleman has in this
+matter an ulterior purpose. Occasionally, in the heat of debate in the
+House of Commons, Mr. <span class="smcap">Abraham</span> drops into his native tongue, and
+addresses the <span class="smcap">Speaker</span> in Welsh. Mr. <span class="smcap">Gladstone</span>, desiring to add a fresh
+interest to Parliamentary proceedings, will, in such circumstances,
+immediately follow the Hon. Member for the Rhondda Vally, and continue
+the debate in Basque.</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Evident, "When you come to think of it."</span>&mdash;At what most patriotic
+moment of a most patriotic French exile must his feelings be most
+bitter?&mdash;When his love turns to Gaul.</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+
+
+<h2>"TO BE CONTINUED."</h2>
+
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 75%">
+<a href="./images/017d.png"><img src="images/017d.png" width="50%" alt="A Tale Continued in our Next." title="" /></a><br />
+A Tale Continued in our Next.
+</div>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza"><p>How eagerly those tales I read</p>
+<p class="i2">While still of tender years,</p>
+<p>Of murder strange, of Haunted Grange,</p>
+<p class="i2">And gory Buccaneers!</p>
+<p>But, at the most exciting point,</p>
+<p class="i2">Abruptly ceased the text,&mdash;</p>
+<p>What rage was mine to meet the line,</p>
+<p class="i2"><i>"Continued in our next"!</i></p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza"><p>Sometimes, indeed, misfortune sharp</p>
+<p class="i2">The Journal would attend&mdash;</p>
+<p>The funds would fail, and so the tale</p>
+<p class="i2">Remains without an end.</p>
+<p>Now, when I take a serial up,</p>
+<p class="i2">I cry, in accents vexed,&mdash;</p>
+<p>"I've read enough&mdash;why <i>is</i> the stuff</p>
+<p class="i2"><i>'Continued in our next'?"</i></p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Ah well, the things we valued once</p>
+<p class="i2">Enliven us no more!</p>
+<p>(Remarks like these, if morals please,</p>
+<p class="i2">I've furnished by the score.)</p>
+<p>And should these verses but result</p>
+<p class="i2">In making you perplexed,</p>
+<p>You'll learn with glee <i>they</i> will not be</p>
+<p class="i2"><i>"Continued in our next"!</i></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p>"Oh, these Christmas Bills!" cried <span class="smcap">Paterfamilias</span>. "That's what I do,"
+rejoined <span class="smcap">Impey Qunious</span>. "My sentiments and practice precisely&mdash;'Owe
+these Christmas Bills'&mdash;and many others."<span class='pagenum'><a name="page18" id="page18">[pg 18]</a></span></p>
+
+<hr />
+
+
+<h2><a name="BUILDING_THE_SNOW_MAN" id="BUILDING_THE_SNOW_MAN"></a>BUILDING THE SNOW MAN.</h2>
+
+<div class="poem"><p><span class="smcap">Billy</span> and <span class="smcap">Johnnie</span> were two little boys,</p>
+<p>Who wearied of lessons, and tired of their toys.</p>
+<p>Says <span class="smcap">Billy</span>, "I've hit on an excellent plan;</p>
+<p>Let's go out in the cold, <span class="smcap">John</span>, and build a Snow Man!"</p>
+</div>
+
+<p><i>Johnnie</i> (<i>blowing his fingers</i>). Oh, I say, <span class="smcap">Billy</span>, isn't it cold,
+either?</p>
+
+<p><i>Billy</i> (<i>stamping</i>). <i>Is</i> it, <span class="smcap">Johnnie</span>? I haven't noticed it myself.</p>
+
+<p><i>Johnnie.</i> Oh, you're as hard as nails, <i>you</i> are. <i>My</i> fingers are
+quite numb.</p>
+
+<p><i>Billy.</i> Then work away briskly. <i>That'll</i> warm 'em! Snow's a bit less
+binding than I expected to find it. Result of the severe frost, I
+suppose. But peg away, and we shall podge it into shape yet, <span class="smcap">Johnnie</span>.</p>
+
+<p><i>Johnnie.</i> Ye-e-e-s! (<i>Shivers</i>). But what&mdash;er&mdash;er&mdash;what pattern, or
+plan, or model, have we&mdash;that&mdash;is&mdash;er&mdash;have <i>you</i>&mdash;er&mdash;decided on,
+<span class="smcap">Billy</span>?</p>
+
+<p><i>Billy</i> (<i>winking</i>). Well, that's as it happens, <span class="smcap">Johnnie</span>! Remember the
+one we built in '86&mdash;eh?</p>
+
+<p><i>Johnnie</i> (<i>shuddering</i>). I should think I did. Don't mean to say
+we're to go on <i>those</i> lines again, <span class="smcap">Billy</span>?</p>
+
+<p><i>Billy.</i> I mean to <i>say</i> nothing of the kind. Many things have
+happened since then, <span class="smcap">Johnnie</span>. For one thing, we've had heaps of
+advice.</p>
+
+<p><i>Johnnie.</i> Hang it, yes! And where are the advisers? Standing aloof
+and criticising our work&mdash;<i>in advance</i>. Where's that bold, blusterous,
+bumptious Behemoth, <span class="smcap">Bill Stead</span>? Knew all about building Snow Men, <i>he</i>
+did; had a private monopoly of omniscience in that, as in most other
+things, <span class="smcap">Bill</span> had. And now he's licking creation into shape for
+six-pence a month, and shying stones at us whenever he sees a chance.
+Little cocksure <span class="smcap">Labby</span>, too! Oh, <i>he</i>'s a nice boy! If <span class="smcap">Bill</span> takes all
+Knowledge for his province, <span class="smcap">Henry</span> considers himself sole proprietor of
+<i>Truth</i>, and he lets us <i>have</i> Truth&mdash;<i>his</i> Truth&mdash;every week at
+least&mdash;in hard chunks&mdash;that hurt horribly. All in pure friendliness,
+too, as the Bobby said when he knocked the boy down to save him from
+being run over. Gr-r-r-r! Believe he's hiding behind the hedge there,
+with a pile of hard snowballs to pelt our Man out of shape as soon as
+we've licked him into it&mdash;if ever we do. <span class="smcap">Teddy Reed</span>, too, <i>he</i>'s
+turned nasty, though he <i>does</i> come from "gallant little Wales;" and
+now here's <span class="smcap">Wallace</span>, the Scotch boy&mdash;though <i>he</i> was all right
+anyhow!&mdash;cutting up rough at the last moment, and complaining of our
+Snow Man (which they've all been howling for for six years), because
+he fancies its head is likely to be a little too Hibernian for his
+Caledonian taste! Oh, they're a nice loyal, grateful lot, <span class="smcap">Billy</span>! And
+where are the Irish bhoys themselves, in whose interests we are
+freezing our fingers and nipping our noses? Standing off-and-on, as it
+were, bickering like blazes among themselves, and only uniting to land
+<i>us</i> a nasty one now and then&mdash;just to encourage us!</p>
+
+<p><i>Billy</i> (<i>patting and punching away vigorously</i>). Loyal? Grateful? Ah,
+<span class="smcap">Johnnie</span>, you don't understand 'em as well as I do. Cold has got on
+your liver. You're a brave boy, <span class="smcap">Johnnie</span>, but just a bit bilious.
+Building Snow Men isn't just like arranging bouquets, my boy. Let them
+bicker, <span class="smcap">Johnnie</span>, and <i>listen to what they say</i>! It may all come in
+handy by-and-by. We've had gratuitous advice and volunteer plans all
+round, from <span class="smcap">Arty Balfour</span> and <span class="smcap">Joey Chamberlain</span>, as well as <span class="smcap">Henry</span>, and
+<span class="smcap">Teddy</span>, and <span class="smcap">Tim</span> and <span class="smcap">John E.</span>, and the rest of 'em. Let them talk whilst
+we build, <span class="smcap">Johnnie</span>. 'Tis a cold, uncomfortable job, I admit; and
+whether "friendly" advice or hostile ammunition will do us the most
+damage I hardly know&mdash;yet. Fierce foes are sometimes easier to deal
+with than friendly funkers. A "Thunderer" in open opposition affrights
+a true Titan less than a treacherous Thersites in one's own camp. But,
+<span class="smcap">Johnnie</span>, we've got to build up this Snow Man somehow, and on some
+plan! I only hope (<i>entre nous</i>, <span class="smcap">Johnnie</span>) that a thaw won't set in,
+and melt it out of form and feature before it is fairly finished!</p>
+
+<blockquote>[<i>Left hard at it.</i></blockquote>
+
+<hr />
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 75%;">
+<a href="./images/018.png"><img src="images/018.png" width="100%" alt="A DISTINCTION AND A DIFFERENCE." title="" /></a><br />
+<h3>A DISTINCTION AND A DIFFERENCE.</h3>
+
+<p><i>Mr. Wilkins.</i> "<span class="smcap">Beg pardon, Sir Pompey, but could you tell me who that
+Young Gen'l'man is you just took off yer 'At to</span>?"</p>
+
+<p><i>Sir Pompey</i> (<i>pompously</i>). "<span class="smcap">He's not a Gentleman at all, Wilkins.
+He's a Noble Lord&mdash;the Right Honourable Lord Viscount Speedicutts&mdash;a
+Friend of mine</span>."</p>
+
+<p><i>Mr. Wilkins.</i> "<span class="smcap">Indeed, Sir Pompey! But, I s'pose <i>some</i> of 'em's
+Gen'l'men, sometimes?"</span></p>
+</div>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p>Great consternation at hearing of the arrest of "<span class="smcap">M. Blondin</span>" in
+connection with the Panama scandals. Of course there can be only <i>one</i>
+<span class="smcap">Blondin</span>, and some wiseacres at once applied the proverb about "Give
+him enough rope," &amp;c. But <span class="smcap">Blondin</span> never fell. It was quite another
+<span class="smcap">Blondin</span>. The Hero of Niagara was not the Villain of the Panama
+piece&mdash;if villain he turn out to be. <span class="smcap">Blondin</span> is still performing;
+always walking soberly, though elevated, on the rope that is quite
+tight. Maybe the rope gets tighter than ever at this jovial period,
+but <span class="smcap">Blondin</span>, <i>the</i> <span class="smcap">Blondin</span>, our <span class="smcap">Blondin's</span> acts are in the sight of
+everybody, his proceedings are intelligible to all, though far above
+the heads of the people.</p>
+
+<hr class="short" />
+
+<p>Still, whatever financial accident may have happened to <span class="smcap">M. Blondin</span>, he
+has always kept his balance&mdash;on the rope.</p>
+
+<hr />
+<p class="center"><span class='pagenum'><a name="page19" id="page19">[pg 19]</a></span>
+<i>[Blank page]</i></p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="page20" id="page20">[pg 20]</a></span></p>
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 75%;">
+<a href="./images/019.png"><img src="images/019.png" width="100%" alt="THE SNOW MAN." title="" /></a><br />
+<h3>THE SNOW MAN.</h3>
+</div>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="page21" id="page21">[pg 21]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><a name="TO_CHLORINDA" id="TO_CHLORINDA"></a>TO CHLORINDA.</h2>
+
+<p class="center">(<i>With a Fan.</i>)</p>
+
+
+<div class="figright" style="width: 30%">
+<a href="./images/021a.png"><img src="images/021a.png" width="100%" alt="Lady with fan" title="" /></a>
+</div>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza"><p>All in your glory you to-night</p>
+<p>Will dance, and me they don't invite</p>
+<p class="i2">Your charms to scan;</p>
+<p>And, as a seal might send its skin</p>
+<p>To please the girl it may not win,</p>
+<p class="i2">I send a fan.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza"><p>Behind this fan some other man</p>
+<p class="i2">Your hand will hold;</p>
+<p>Your fearless eyes, so bright and brown,</p>
+<p>Will hide their gladness, glancing down,</p>
+<p class="i2">No longer cold.</p>
+<p>And your pale, perfect cheek will take</p>
+<p>That colour for another's sake,</p>
+<p class="i2">I ne'er controlled,&mdash;</p>
+<p>Yet, ere you sleep, stray thoughts will creep</p>
+<p class="i2">To days of old.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza"><p>Of old! For in a single day,</p>
+<p>When love first gilds a maiden's way,</p>
+<p class="i2">The world grows new;</p>
+<p>And from that new world you will send</p>
+<p>Sweet pity to the absent friend</p>
+<p class="i2">Who so loved you.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza"><p>Loved&mdash;for my love will wither then;</p>
+<p>I cannot share with other men</p>
+<p class="i2">The dear delight</p>
+<p>That dwells in your austerest tone,</p>
+<p>That latent hope of joys unknown&mdash;</p>
+<p>Though now you will not be my own,</p>
+<p class="i2">Some day you might.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza"><p>My trusted little friend of yore,</p>
+<p>Of course you'd think my love a bore,</p>
+<p class="i2">It's not romantic:</p>
+<p>I've passed beyond the football stage,</p>
+<p>And e'en despair is saved by age</p>
+<p class="i2">From growing frantic.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza"><p>No, like a veteran grim and grey,</p>
+<p class="i2">With sling and crutch,</p>
+<p>I am but fit to watch the fray</p>
+<p>Where, in the world-old, witching way,</p>
+<p>In other hands your fingers stay</p>
+<p class="i2">With lingering touch,</p>
+<p>That may mean nothing, or it may</p>
+<p class="i2">Mean, oh! so much.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza"><p>I'll wed some woman, prim of face,</p>
+<p>Who'll duly fill the housewife's place,</p>
+<p>And with her hard, domestic grace</p>
+<p class="i2">Illusions scatter;</p>
+<p>But sometimes when the stars are full,</p>
+<p>While at my season'd pipe I pull,</p>
+<p>I'll see my little love once more,</p>
+<p>With brilliant lovers by the score,</p>
+<p class="i2">Whose tributes flatter.</p>
+<p>And, thinking of the light gone by,</p>
+<p>Murmur with philosophic sigh,</p>
+<p class="i2">"It doesn't matter."</p>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza"><p>And then, perchance, this fan you'll find,</p>
+<p class="i2">When all the new romance is over.</p>
+<p>Sweet, may you ne'er with troubled mind</p>
+<p>Half wish you never had resigned,</p>
+<p class="i2">Your truest lover.</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p>Last week, Dr. <span class="smcap">Adler</span> gave, as appears by the extracts, an excellent
+Lecture on "Jewish Wit and Humour." He himself is well known as the
+<i>The Jew d'Esprit</i>.</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Temporary Change of Name</span>.&mdash;Will Poplar Hospital be styled, "Un-pop'lar
+Hospital?"</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+
+
+<h2>"THE VERY LATEST."</h2>
+
+<div class="note">
+<p>["A Cookery Autograph-book is the last idea. Each friend is supposed
+to write a practical recipe for a dainty dish above his or her
+signature."</p>
+
+<p class="right"><i>The Graphic.</i>]</p>
+</div>
+
+<div class="poem"><p>No, <span class="smcap">Mabel</span>, no;&mdash;though your behest</p>
+<p class="i2">I always heed with rapt attention,</p>
+<p>Most fervently I must protest</p>
+<p class="i2">Against this horrible invention;</p>
+<p>Your word has hitherto been law,</p>
+<p>But this appears the final straw!</p>
+
+<div class="figright" style="width: 30%">
+<a href="./images/021b.png"><img src="images/021b.png" width="100%" alt="" title="" /></a>
+</div>
+
+<p>Obedient to imperious looks,</p>
+<p class="i2">I've had to write, at your suggestion,</p>
+<p>The answers in confession-books</p>
+<p class="i2">To many an idiotic question;</p>
+<p>I'll vow my favourite tint is blue</p>
+<p>(The colour mostly worn by you);</p>
+
+<p>I'll gladly draw a fancy sketch,</p>
+<p class="i2">I'll make acrostics with elation,</p>
+<p>I'll write you verses at a stretch,</p>
+<p class="i2">Or give my views on vaccination;</p>
+<p>But, even to fulfil your wishes,</p>
+<p>I cannot manufacture dishes!</p>
+
+<p>I know, in theory, how to make</p>
+<p class="i2">The matutinal tea and coffee,</p>
+<p>And, when at school, I used to bake</p>
+<p class="i2">A gruesome mess described as toffee;</p>
+<p>But these, which form my whole <i>cuisine</i>,</p>
+<p>Are scarce the kind of thing you mean.</p>
+
+<p>Of course I'd learn some more by heart,</p>
+<p class="i2">If this could gain me your affection,</p>
+<p>But fear the anguish on your part</p>
+<p class="i2">Produced by faulty recollection;</p>
+<p>On me, my <span class="smcap">Mabel</span>, please to look</p>
+<p>As lover only&mdash;not as Cook!</p>
+</div>
+<hr />
+
+<h2><a name="CRINOLINE" id="CRINOLINE"></a>CRINOLINE.</h2>
+
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 50%">
+<a href="./images/021c.png"><img src="images/021c.png" width="100%" alt="" title="" /></a>
+</div>
+
+<div class="poem"><p>Rumour whispers, so we glean</p>
+<p>From the papers, there have been</p>
+<p>Thoughts of bringing on the scene</p>
+<p>This mad, monstrous, metal screen,</p>
+<p>Hiding woman's graceful mien.</p>
+<p>Better Jewish gabardine</p>
+<p>Than, thus swelled out, satin's sheen!</p>
+<p>Vilest garment ever seen!</p>
+<p>Form unknown in things terrene;</p>
+<p>Even monsters pliocene</p>
+<p>Were not so ill-shaped, I ween.</p>
+<p>Women wearing this machine,</p>
+<p>Were they fat or were they lean&mdash;</p>
+<p>Small as <span class="smcap">Wordsworth's</span> celandine,</p>
+<p>Large as sail that's called lateen&mdash;</p>
+<p>Simply swept the pavement clean:</p>
+<p>Hapless man was crushed between</p>
+<p>Flat as any tinned sardine.</p>
+<p>Thing to rouse a Bishop's spleen,</p>
+<p>Make a Canon or a Dean</p>
+<p>Speak in language not serene.</p>
+<p>We must all be very green,</p>
+<p>And our senses not too keen,</p>
+<p>If we can't say what we mean,</p>
+<p>Write in paper, magazine,</p>
+<p>Send petitions to the <span class="smcap">Queen</span>,</p>
+<p>Get the House to intervene.</p>
+<p>Paris fashion's transmarine&mdash;</p>
+<p>Let us stop by quarantine</p>
+<p>Catastrophic Crinoline!</p>
+</div>
+<hr />
+
+<p>"More butter is coming from Victoria," says the <i>P. M. G.</i>, "to the
+Mother Country." Our Colonies are not given to supplying us with this
+article of food to any great extent. It is generally the Mother
+Country that has buttered the Colonies.</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+
+<h2><a name="On_Three_Poets" id="On_Three_Poets"></a>On Three Poets.</h2>
+
+<p class="center">(<i>By the Fourth Party.</i>)</p>
+
+
+<div class="poem">
+<p><span class="smcap">Swinburne</span>, <span class="smcap">Austin</span>, <span class="smcap">Morris</span>,</p>
+<p class="i2">Bardic busybodies,</p>
+<p>Threnodies they wrote:&mdash;</p>
+<p class="i2"><i>They</i> were the Three Noddies!</p>
+</div>
+<hr />
+
+<p>Mrs. R. says that, in this cold weather, whenever she wants to know if
+there is to be a change, she consults her <i>thaw</i>mometer.</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p>The amusing article, "A Man's Thoughts on Marriage," ought not to have
+appeared in <i>The Gentleman</i>, but in the <i>United Service Magazine</i>.
+This is evident.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="page22" id="page22">[pg 22]</a></span></p>
+<hr />
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 50%;">
+<a href="./images/022.png"><img src="images/022.png" width="100%" alt="TOO AFFECTIONATE BY HALF." title="" /></a><br />
+<h3>TOO AFFECTIONATE BY HALF.</h3>
+
+<p><i>Auntie.</i> "<span class="smcap">Oh, you naughty Boy! What are you doing? Smoking! Why
+you'll never Grow!</span>"</p>
+
+<p><i>Artful Nephew.</i> "<span class="smcap">That's just it, Auntie. I don't want to Grow. I want
+to keep the same Size always, so that I can sit on your Lap, an' Love
+you!"</span></p>
+</div>
+
+<hr />
+
+<h2>CONVERSATIONAL HINTS FOR YOUNG SHOOTERS.</h2>
+
+
+<p>Before I proceed with the order of subjects which I have proposed to
+myself as the proper one to follow, I feel that I must revert for a
+moment to the question of "ladies at lunch." You may remember that
+some two or three weeks ago I ventured to offer some observations on
+this topic. Dear ladies, you can read for yourselves the winged words
+in which your adoring <i>Punch</i> settled the matter. "By all means," I
+said, "come to lunch, if you must." What can be plainer or more
+direct? Bless your pretty, pouting faces, I am not responsible for the
+characters of my fellow-men, nor for the harsh language they use. If
+they behave like boors, and show an incomprehensible distaste for your
+delightful presence, am I, your constant friend, to be blamed? I
+cannot alter the nature of these barbarians. But what has happened
+since I published an article which had, at any rate, the merit of
+truthful portraiture? Why, I have been overwhelmed with epistolary
+reproaches in every variety of feminine hand-writing. "<span class="smcap">A Careful
+Mother</span>" writes from Dorset&mdash;a locality hitherto associated in my mind
+with butter rather than with blame&mdash;to protest that she has been so
+horrified by my cynical tone, that she does not intend to take me in
+any longer. She adds, that "<i>Punch</i> has laid upon my drawing-room
+table for more than thirty years." Heavens, that I should have been so
+deeply, so ungrammatically, honoured without knowing it! Am I no
+longer to recline amid photograph albums, gift-books, and
+flower-vases, upon that sacred table? And are you, Madam, to spite a
+face which has always, I am certain, beamed upon me with a kindly
+consideration, by depriving it wantonly of its adorning and necessary
+nose. Heaven forbid! Withdraw for both our sakes that rash decision,
+while there is yet time, and restore me to my wonted place in your
+affections, and your drawing-room.</p>
+
+<p>But all are not like this. Here, for instance, is a sensible and
+temperate commentary, which it gives me pleasure to quote word for
+word as it was written:&mdash;</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Dear Mr. Punch</span>,&mdash;I want to tell you that, although I am what one of
+your friends called "a solid woman," and ought to feel <i>deeply</i> hurt
+by what you said about ladies at lunch, yet I liked that article the
+best. I think it was <i>awfully</i> good. But don't you think you are all
+rather hard on ladies at shooting-boxes? My idea is that there ought
+to be some new rules about shooting-parties. At present, ladies are
+asked to amuse the men&mdash;at least that is my experience&mdash;and it is
+rather hard they may not sometimes go on the moors, if they want to.
+But, at the same time, I <i>quite</i> understand that they are horribly in
+the way, and I am not surprised that the men don't want women about
+them when they are shooting. But couldn't they arrange to have a day
+now and then, when they could shoot all the morning, and devote
+themselves to amusing the women on the moors after lunch? Otherwise, I
+think there ought to be a rule that no women are to be invited to
+shooting-boxes. It is generally very dull for the women, and I feel
+sure the men would be quite as happy without them. I suppose the host
+might want his wife to be there, to look after things; but <i>she ought
+to strike</i>, and ask her lady-friends to do the same; and then they
+could go abroad, or to some jolly place, and enjoy themselves in their
+own way. Really we often get quite angry&mdash;at least I do&mdash;when men
+treat us as if we were so many dolls, and patronise us in their heavy
+way, and expect us to believe that the world was made entirely for
+them and their shooting-parties. There must be more give and take.
+And, if <i>we</i> are to give you our sympathy and attention, <i>you</i> must
+take our companionship a little oftener. We get so dull when we are
+all together.</p>
+
+<p class="indent">Your sincere admirer,</p>
+<p class="right"><span class="smcap">A Lady Luncher</span>.</p>
+
+<p>I confess this simple letter touched an answering chord in my heart. I
+scarcely knew how to answer it. At last a brilliant thought struck me.
+I would show it to my tame Hussar-Captain, <span class="smcap">Shabrack</span>. That gallant son
+of Mars is not only a good sportsman, but he has, in common with many
+of his brother officers, the reputation of being a dashing, but
+discriminating worshipper at the shrine of beauty. At military and
+hunt balls the Captain is a stalwart performer, a despiser of mere
+programme engagements, and an invincible cutter-out of timid youths
+who venture to put forward their claims to a dance that the Captain
+has mentally reserved for himself. The mystery is how he has escaped
+scathless into what his friends now consider to be assured
+bachelor-hood. Most of his contemporaries, roystering, healthy, and
+seemingly flinty-hearted fellows, all of them, have long since gone
+down, one after another, before some soft and smiling little being,
+and are now trying to fit their incomes to the keep of perambulators,
+as well as of dog-carts. But <span class="smcap">Shabrack</span> has escaped. I found him at his
+Club, and showed him the letter, requesting him at the same time to
+tell me what he thought of it. I think he was flattered by my appeal,
+for he insisted on my immediate acceptance of a cigar six inches long,
+and proposed to me a tempting list of varied drinks. The Captain read
+the letter through twice carefully, and thus took up his parable:&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"Look here, my son, don't you be put off by what the little woman
+says. She don't mean half of it. Get the hostess to strike!"&mdash;here he
+laughed loudly&mdash;"now that's a real good 'un. Why, they haven't got it
+in them. Fact is, they can't stand one another's company. She says as
+much, don't she? 'We get so dull when we are all together.' Well, that
+scarcely looks like goin' off on the strike together, does it? Don't
+you be alarmed, old quill-driver, they'll never run a strike of that
+kind for more than a day. They'll all come troopin' back, beggin' to
+be forgiven, and all that, and, by gum, we shall have to take 'em back
+too, just as we're all congratulatin' ourselves that we shan't have to
+go to any more blessed pic-nics. That's a woman's idea of enjoyin'
+herself in the country&mdash;nothin' but one round of pic-nics. I give you
+my word, when I was stayin' with old <span class="smcap">Fred Derriman</span>, in Perthshire,
+they reg'larly mapped out the whole place for pic-nics, and I'm dashed
+if they didn't spoil our best day's drivin by pic-nickin' in, 'oh,
+such a sweet<span class='pagenum'><a name="page23" id="page23">[pg 23]</a></span> place.' Truth is, they can't get along without us, my
+son, only they won't admit it, bless 'em! And, after all, we're better
+off when they're in the house, I'm bound to confess; so I don't mind
+lettin' 'em have a pic-nic or two, just to keep 'em sweet. Them's my
+sentiments, old cock, and you're welcome to them."</p>
+
+<p>I thanked the Captain for his courtesy, and withdrew. But if the whole
+thing is merely a matter of pic-nics, it is far simpler than I
+imagined.</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 100%;">
+<a href="./images/023.png"><img src="images/023.png" width="100%" alt="MR. PUNCH&#39;S SKATING PARTY." title="" /></a><br />
+<h3>MR. PUNCH&#39;S SKATING PARTY.</h3>
+</div>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="page24" id="page24">[pg 24]</a></span></p>
+
+<hr />
+<h2><a name="OUR_BOOKING-OFFICE" id="OUR_BOOKING-OFFICE"></a>OUR BOOKING-OFFICE.</h2>
+
+
+<div class="figleft" style="width: 25%;">
+<a href="./images/024a.png"><img src="images/024a.png" width="100%" alt="" title="" /></a>
+</div>
+
+<p>"Have you read," asks one of the Baron's Assistants of his Chief,
+"Miss <span class="smcap">Braddon</span>'s Christmas Annual? It is entitled, <i>The Misletoe
+Bough</i>, and contains some of the best short stories I have read
+lately. One of them, 'In Mr. <span class="smcap">Cartwright</span>'s Library,' is a remarkable
+combination of quaint, dry humour, and literary skill. Who is the
+clever author? But here are other stories, too, that interest and
+please, and, not least among them, a charming sketch, by the ever
+welcome editress. Bravo, Miss <span class="smcap">Braddon</span>!</p>
+
+<p>"<i>Brownies and Rose-leaves</i>, by <span class="smcap">Roma White</span> (<span class="smcap">Innes &amp; Co.</span>), is a pretty
+little book, prettily written, prettily illustrated by <span class="smcap">Leslie Brooke</span>,
+and prettily bound," he continues. "Miss <span class="smcap">White</span> has a charming knack of
+writing musical verse, simple, rhythmical, delightful. To children and
+their parents, I say, take my tip (the only one parents will get at
+this season), and read <span class="smcap">Roma White</span>'s dainty, delicate, fresh and breezy
+book."</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+
+<h2><a name="ROBIN_POOR_FELLOW" id="ROBIN_POOR_FELLOW"></a>ROBIN POOR FELLOW!</h2>
+
+
+<p><i>Robin Goodfellow</i>, by Mr. <span class="smcap">Carton</span>, is not a brilliant play, as its
+dialogue lacks epigrammatic sparkle: neither is it an interesting
+play, as the plot, such as it is, is too weak for words,&mdash;which, by
+the way, at once accounts for the absence of the sparkle
+above-mentioned.</p>
+
+<p>Three questions must have occurred to those who have already seen the
+play, and which those who may hereafter see it will be sure to ask
+themselves,&mdash;and they are these:&mdash;</p>
+
+<div class="figright" style="width: 30%">
+<a href="./images/024b.png"><img src="images/024b.png" width="100%" alt="Nearly burning his fingers. Mr. Hare acting with
+Grace." title="" /></a><br />
+Nearly burning his fingers. Mr. Hare acting with
+Grace.
+</div>
+
+<p>First. Why should <i>Grace's</i> father, <i>Valentine Barbrook</i>, tell her of
+the means by which he had brought about the betrothal of <i>Hugh Rokeby</i>
+to <i>Constance</i>?</p>
+
+<p>Secondly. This being so, why allow six weeks to elapse when a word
+from the one girl, who knows, to the other, who doesn't, would explain
+everything?</p>
+
+<p>Thirdly. If a sudden shock would kill the grandmother, surely, in the
+course of six weeks, <i>Grace</i> would have found out that her shortest
+and best way was to tell the truth to her cousin, without mentioning
+it to the old lady.</p>
+
+<p>If in doubt, why didn't she confide in the Doctor, who would at once
+have told her whether the nature of the communication she had to make
+was of a sufficiently startling nature to kill the old lady right off
+or not?</p>
+
+<p>The fact is, it was necessary to keep the lover, <i>Mr. Stanley
+Trevenen</i>, away for some time, in order to allow of there being a
+glimmer of probability in the announcement of his having thrown over
+the girl to whom he is devotedly attached, and having married somebody
+else whom he met abroad. "Now," says the dramatist, "what is the
+shortest possible space of time I can allow for this? Ahem!&mdash;say a
+month." So he gives him a month. "Then," says he, next, "what is the
+shortest possible time we can allow for an engagement and a marriage?
+Say six weeks. Good. Six weeks be it. Only, hang it, this muddle has
+to last for six weeks! Well, it can't be helped. I can't give any more
+trouble to the bothering plot; and, as after all, there's a capital
+character for Mr. <span class="smcap">Hare</span>, and not at all a bad one for Miss <span class="smcap">Rorke</span>, with
+a fairish one for <span class="smcap">Forbes Robertson</span>, why, if Mr. <span class="smcap">Hare</span> will accept the
+play, and do it, I should say that, cast and played as it will be, it
+is pretty sure to be a success."</p>
+
+<div class="figright" style="width: 25%;">
+<a href="./images/024c.png"><img src="images/024c.png" width="100%" alt="The Happy Pair." title="" /></a>
+The Happy Pair.
+</div>
+
+<p>So much for the Author and the Play. As to the Actors, Mr. <span class="smcap">Hare</span> has
+had many a better part, and this is but an inferior species of a genus
+with which the public has long been familiar; but there is no one who
+can touch him in a part of this description. Admirable! most
+admirable! <i>Barbrook</i> is in reality a silly elderly scamp, with all
+the will to be a villain but not endowed with the brains requisite for
+that line of life. Thus, the Author, unconsciously, has created him.
+But Mr. <span class="smcap">Hare</span> invests this feather-headed scoundrel with Iago-ish and
+Mephistophelian characteristics, that go very near to make the
+audience believe that, after all, there <i>is</i> something in the part,
+and also in the plot. But the part is only a snowman, and melts away
+under the sunlight of criticism. Miss <span class="smcap">Kate Rorke</span> is charming. It is a
+monotonous and wearisome part, and the merit of it is her own. Miss
+<span class="smcap">Norreys</span> is very good but the girl is insipid. Miss <span class="smcap">Compton</span>, as the
+good-hearted, knowing, fast lady, wins us, as she proves herself to be
+the real <i>Robin Goodfellow</i>, the real good fairy of the piece, <i>Robin
+Goodfellow</i> is a misnomer, unless the aforesaid <i>Robin</i> be dissociated
+from <i>Puck</i>: but it is altogether a bad title as applied to this piece
+for, as with Mr. <span class="smcap">Carton</span>'s piece at the St. James's, <i>Liberty Hall</i>, it
+is a title absolutely thrown away. Mr. <span class="smcap">Forbes Robertson</span> is as good as
+the part permits, and it is the Author's fault that he is not better.
+Mr. <span class="smcap">Gilbert Hare</span> gives a neat bit of character as the Doctor, and Mr.
+<span class="smcap">Donald Robertson</span> may by now have made something of the rather foolish
+Clergyman (whether Rector, Vicar, or Curate I could not make out),
+whose stupid laugh began by making a distinct hit, and, on frequent
+repetition, became a decided bore. It is played in one Scene and three
+Acts, and no doubt in the course of a fortnight certain repetitious
+and needless lines will have been excised, and the piece will play
+closer, and may be an attraction, but not a great one, for some time
+to come. At all events, the part of <i>Valentine Barbrook</i> will add
+another highly-finished picture to Mr. <span class="smcap">Hare's</span> gallery of eccentric
+comedy-character. I think of him with delight, and exclaim, once
+more&mdash;Admirable!</p>
+
+<p class="right"><span class="smcap">Private Box</span>.</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p>At Drury Lane the Baddeley Cake Meeting was a Goodly sight.</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><img src="./images/hand.png" alt="" title="" /><b>NOTICE.&mdash;Rejected Communications or
+Contributions, whether MS., Printed Matter, Drawings, or Pictures of
+any description, will in no case be returned, not even when
+accompanied by a Stamped and Addressed Envelope, Cover, or Wrapper. To
+this rule there will be no exception.</b></p>
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+<pre>
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Punch, or the London Charivari, Volume
+104, January 14, 1893, by Various
+
+*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PUNCH ***
+
+***** This file should be named 21598-h.htm or 21598-h.zip *****
+This and all associated files of various formats will be found in:
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@@ -0,0 +1,1605 @@
+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Punch, or the London Charivari, Volume 104,
+January 14, 1893, 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 104, January 14, 1893
+
+Author: Various
+
+Release Date: May 24, 2007 [EBook #21598]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PUNCH ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Punch, or the London Charivari, Juliet
+Sutherland and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team
+at https://www.pgdp.net
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.
+
+VOL. 104.
+
+
+
+JANUARY 14th, 1893.
+
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+THE SCHOOL FOR PATRIOTISM.
+
+    [A Fund has been raised to supply the School Board with
+    Union-Jacks, with a view to increasing the loyalty of the
+    pupils.--_Daily Paper._]
+
+SCENE--_A Room of the School Board, decorated with flags and trophies
+of arms._ Teacher _discovered instructing his pupils in English
+History._
+
+_Teacher._ And now we come to the Battle of Trafalgar, which was won
+by NELSON in the early part of the present century. As it is my object
+to increase your patriotism, I may tell you that "BRITANNIA rules the
+waves, and Britons never, never, never will be slaves!" Repeat that in
+chorus.
+
+_Pupils._ "Rule, BRITANNIA, BRITANNIA rules the waves; Britons never,
+never, never will be slaves!"
+
+_Teacher._ Thank you very much; and to show how the _esprit de corps_
+in Her Majesty's Ships-of-War is preserved, I will now dance the
+Sailor's Hornpipe.
+
+    [_Does so._
+
+_First Pupil._ Please, Sir, do Englishmen always win?
+
+_Teacher._ Invariably. If they retire, they do not retreat. Can you
+tell me what a retirement of troops in the face of the enemy is
+called?
+
+_Second Pupil._ Bolting, Sir.
+
+_Teacher._ Nothing of the sort. Go to the bottom of the class, Sirrah!
+Bolting, indeed! Next boy!
+
+_Third Pupil._ It is called "a strategic movement to the rear," Sir.
+
+_Teacher._ Quite right; and now we come to the Battle of Waterloo,
+which you will remember was won on the 18th of June, 1815. But perhaps
+this may be a convenient time for the introduction of the Union-Jack
+War Dance, which, as you all know, has been recently ordered to be
+part of our studies by the Committee of the School Board. Now then,
+please, take your places.
+
+    [The Pupils _seize the flags hanging to the walls, and dance
+    merrily. At the conclusion of the exercise they replace the
+    flags, and resume their customary places._
+
+_First Pupil._ If you please, can you tell us anything about the
+Union-Jack?
+
+_Teacher._ As I have explained on many occasions, when you have been
+good and obliging enough to put the same question to me, I am
+delighted to have the opportunity. You must know that the Union-Jack
+represents the greatest nation in the world. This nation is our own
+beloved country, and it is gratifying to know that there are no people
+so blessed as our own. The Union-Jack flies in every quarter of the
+globe, and where it is seen, slavery becomes impossible, and tyranny a
+thing of the past. To be an Englishman is to be the noblest creature
+on the earth. One Englishman is worth twenty specimens of other
+nationalities; he is more conscientious, more clever, more beautiful
+than any other living man, and it is a good thing for the world that
+he exists. _(Looking at watch._) And now, as we have rather exceeded
+our usual time for study, we will depart after the customary ceremony.
+
+    [_The_ Pupils _then sing the National Anthem, and the School
+    dismisses itself with three cheers for_ HER MAJESTY.
+    _Curtain._
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+    [Illustration: "ON NE 'PATINE' PAS AVEC L'AMOUR."
+    (_With Apologies to the Shade of Alfred de Musset._)]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+BUTTERS BUTTERED.
+
+SIR,--I have been deeply thrilled by the suggestion for curing the
+Agricultural depression which Messrs. MACDOUGALL, of Mark Lane, have
+made. I am not myself an Agriculturist; still, in--or rather near--the
+suburban villa in which I reside, I have an old cow, and a donkey on
+which my children ride. Directly I heard that the way to keep animals
+warm and comfortable in Winter was to smear them all over with oil,
+thus saving much of the cost of feeding them, I tried the plan on the
+aged cow. Perhaps the oil I used was not sufficiently pure. At all
+events the animal, which had never been known before to do more than
+proceed at a leisurely walk, rushed at frantic speed into the garden,
+and tossed my wife's mother into a cucumber-frame. She has now gone
+home. Undeterred by the comparative failure of this attempt, I smeared
+our donkey with a pint of the best castor-oil, just before setting out
+on its daily amble, with the children (in panniers) on its back. It
+did not appear to relish the treatment, as it instantly broke loose,
+and was found, five miles off, in a village pound, while the children
+were landed in a neighbouring ditch. I am writing to Messrs.
+MACDOUGALL, to ask for particulars of how the oil is to be applied. I
+am sure it is an excellent idea, if the animals could be brought to
+see it in the same light.
+
+  Yours, experimentally,
+  DARWIN EDISON GUBBINS.
+
+       ***
+
+MY DEAR MR. PUNCH,--SMITH Minor, who is staying at our house for part
+of the holidays, said what good fun it would be to try the MACDOUGALL
+plan on my Uncle from India. He is always cold and shivering. We
+waited till he was having a nap after dinner in the arm-chair, and we
+coated him over with butter that SMITH Minor got from Cook. (Cook
+never will give _me_ butter.) When we got to his hair he unfortunately
+woke up, so that is probably why the plan did not succeed. We thought
+he would be pleased to feel warmer, but he wasn't. Uncles are often
+ungrateful, SMITH Minor says. And it _did_ succeed in one way, because
+he seemed awfully hot and red in the face when he found what we had
+been doing. Perhaps we ought not to have tried smearing him on his
+clothes, but how could we get his clothes off without waking him?
+SMITH Minor says it's a pity we didn't drug him. N.B.--I have been
+stopped going to the Pantomime for this, and SMITH Minor is to be sent
+home!
+
+  Your dejected      TOMMY.
+
+       ***
+
+SIR,--I want to bring an action against Messrs. MACDOUGALL, of Mark
+Lane. I tried their smearing plan on a horse in my stable that had a
+huge appetite, and was always getting cold if left out in the wet. I
+used paraffin, and at first the animal seemed really grateful. In the
+night I was called up by a fearful noise, and found that the horse's
+appetite had not got at all less owing to the oil; on the contrary, it
+seemed to have eaten up most of the woodwork of the stable, and was
+plunging about madly. The paraffin caught light, and the stable was
+burned, and the horse too. In future I shall feed my horse in the
+usual way, not on the outside.
+
+  Yours,      TITUS OATS.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+    [Illustration: THE THIN BROWN LINE.]
+
+    ["Decidedly the most gratifying feature in the accounts of
+    these engagements which have reached us, is the proof which
+    they contain of the remarkable progress in all soldierly
+    qualities made by the fellaheen forces, under the guidance and
+    instruction of their British Officers."--_The Times._]
+
+  _Tommy Atkins, loquitur_:--
+
+  "WE'VE fought with many men acrost the seas,
+    And some of 'em was brave, an' some was not."
+  (So Mister KIPLING says. His 'ealth, boys, please!
+    '_E_ doesn't give us TOMMIES Tommy-rot.)
+  We didn't think you over-full of pluck,
+    When you scuttled from our baynicks like wild 'orses;
+  But you're mendin', an' 'ere's wishing of you luck!
+    Wich you're proving an addition to our forces.
+  So 'ere's _to_ you, though 'tis true that at El Teb you cut and ran;
+  You're improvin' from a scuttler to a first-class fighting man;
+  You can 'old your own at present when the bullets hiss and buzz,
+  And in time you may be equal to a round with Fuzzy-Wuz!
+
+  You've been lammed and licked sheer out of go an' grit,
+  From the times of Pharaoh down to the Khe-_dive_;
+     Till you 'ardly feel yerself one bloomin' bit,
+  And I almost wonder you are left alive.
+    But we've got you out of a good deal of _that_,
+    Sir EVELYN and the rest of us. You _foller_;
+      And you'll fight yer weight in (Soudanese) wild cat
+    One day, nor let the Fuzzies knock you oller.
+  Then 'ere's _to_ you, my fine Fellah, and the missis and the kid!
+  When you stand a Dervish devil-rush, and do as you are bid,
+  You'll just make a TOMMY ATKINS of a quiet Coptic sort;
+  And I shouldn't wonder then, mate, if the Fuzzies see some sport.
+
+    Some would like us lads to clear out! Wot say _you_?
+      _We_ don't tumble to the Parties and their fakes;
+    But I guess we don't mean scuttle. If we _do_,
+      We shall make the bloomingest o' black mistakes;
+    With the 'owling Dervishes you've stood a brush,
+      With a baynick you can cross a shovel-spear;
+    But leave yer to the French, and Fuzzy's rush?
+      That won't be a 'ealthy game for many a year.
+  So 'ere's _to_ you, my fine Fellah! May you cut and run no more,
+  Though the 'acking, 'owling, 'ayrick-'eaded niggers rush and roar,
+  We back you, 'elp you, train you, and to make the bargain fair,
+  We won't leave you--yet--to Fuz-Wuz--him as broke a British Square.
+
+    You ain't no "thin red" 'eroes, no, not yet,
+      But a patient, docile, plucky, "thin brown line."
+    May be useful in its way, my boy, you bet'!
+      All good fighters may shake fists, you know--'ere's mine!
+    You're a daisy, you're a dasher, you're a dab!
+      I'll fight with you, or join you on a spree
+    Let the skulkers and the scuttlers stow their gab,
+      TOMMY ATKINS drinks your 'ealth with three times three!
+  So 'ere's _to_ you, my fine Fellah! 'E who funked the 'ot Soudan,
+  And the furious Fuzzy-Wuzzies, grows a first-class fighting-man:
+  An' 'ere's _to_ you, my fine Fellah, coffee 'ide and inky hair
+  May yet shoulder stand to shoulder with me in a British Square!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+REFLECTION BY A READER OF "REMINISCENCES."
+
+  Yes, life _is_ hard. Our fellows judge us coldly;
+    We mostly dwell in fog, and dance in fetters;
+  But sweeter far to face oblivion boldly,
+    Than front posterity through a _Life and Letters._
+  That Memory's the Mother of the Muses,
+    We're told. Alas! it must have been the Furies!
+  Mnemosyne her privilege abuses,--
+    Nothing from her distorting glass secure is.
+  Life is a Sphinx: folk cannot solve her riddles,
+  So they've recourse to spiteful taradiddles,
+  Which they dub "Reminiscences." Kind fate,
+  From, the fool's Memory preserve the Great!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"HOW LONDON THEATRES ARE WARMED."--By having first-rate pieces. This
+prevents any chance of a "frost."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+SONG FOR THE LIBERATOR SOCIETY, AND OTHERS.--"Oh, where, and oh where,
+is our J. S. B-LF-R gone?"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+  When the _P. M. Gazette_ by a Tory was book'd,
+  The Editor "Cust," and its readers were Cooke'd.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+    [Illustration: "SURGIT AMARI ALIQUID----"
+
+    "AND WHOM DID YOU TAKE INTO SUPPER, MIKE?" "MAUD WILLOUGHBY."
+    "YOU LUCKY BOY! WHY SHE'S A DARLING!"
+    "YES--BUT THERE WAS ANOTHER FELLOW ON HER OTHER SIDE!"]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+ON AN OLD QUARTETTE.
+
+    [_Pantaloon, Clown, Harlequin, and Columbine_ are the
+    characters of an old sixteenth-century drama, acted in
+    dumb-show. "_Pantaleone_" is a Venetian type; _Columbine_
+    means a "little dove."]
+
+  WHILE Fairyland and Fairy tales
+    'Neath flaunting pageants fall,
+  And over Pantomime prevails
+    The Muse of Music Hall.
+  Still echoes, wafted through the din,
+    A lilt of one old tune--
+  Of Columbine and Harlequin,
+    Of Clown and Pantaloon.
+
+  Their faded frolics, tarnished show
+    Are shadows faint and rude
+  Of mimes who centuries ago
+    Joked, caramboled and wooed,
+  Of masques Venetian, Florentine,
+    Of moyen-age renown--
+  Of Harlequin and Columbine,
+    Of Pantaloon and Clown.
+
+  Not horseplay rough, the Saraband
+    They danced in vanished years,
+  But Love and Satire hand-in-hand,
+    And laughter linked with tears,
+  And Youth equipped his dove to win,
+    And Age, who grudged the boon;--
+  Sweet Columbine, bold Harlequin,
+    Cross Clown and Pantaloon.
+
+  Our Children-Critics now who deign
+    To greet this honoured jest,
+  Acclaiming, "Here we are again!"
+    With patronising zest,
+  They mark no soft Italian moon
+    Which once was wont to shine
+  On Harlequin and Pantaloon,
+    And Clown and Columbine!
+
+  But, spangled pair of lovers true,
+    And, whitened schemers twain,
+  The scholar hears in each of you
+    A note of that quatrain;
+  The dim Renaissance seems to spin
+    Around your satin shoon,
+  Fair Columbine, feat Harlequin,
+    Sly Clown and Pantaloon!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+EVERYONE sincerely hopes that Sir WEST RIDGWAY will make a good bag
+during his visit to the Moors. "Ridgway's Food" is something that can
+be swallowed easily, and is so palatable as to be quite a More-ish
+sort of dish. Good luck to the experienced and widely-travelled Sir
+EAST-AND-WEST RIDGWAY. Our English ROSEBERY couldn't have made a
+better choice.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+TO A BREWER (_by Our Christmas Clown_).--"Wish you a Hoppy New Year!"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+THE MAN WHO WOULD.
+
+VI.--THE MAN WHO WOULD BE A SOUL.
+
+LINCOLN B. SWEZEY was a high-toned and inquiring American citizen, who
+came over to study our Institootions. He carried letters to almost
+everybody; Dukes, Radicals, Authors, eminent British Prize-fighters,
+Music-hall buffoons, and he prosecuted his examination steadily. He
+did not say much, and he never was seen to laugh, but he kept a
+note-book, and he seemed to contemplate in his own mind, The Ideal
+American, and to try to live up to that standard. When he did speak,
+it was in the interrogative, and he pastured his intellect on our
+high-class Magazines.
+
+LINCOLN B. discovered many things, and noted them down for his work on
+_Social Dry Rot in Europe_, but one matter puzzled him. He read in
+papers or reviews, and he vaguely heard talk of a secret institution,
+the Society of Souls. They were going to run a newspaper; they were
+_not_ going to run a newspaper. There was a poem in connection with
+them, which mystified LINCOLN B. SWEZEY not a little; he "allowed it
+was darned personal," but further than that his light did not
+penetrate. He went to a little Club, of which he was a temporary
+member; it was not fashionable, and did not seem to want to be, and
+SWEZEY thought it flippant. There he asked, "What _are_ the Souls,
+anyhow?" "_Societas omnium animarum_," somebody answered, and SWEZEY
+exclaimed "Say!" "They are a congregation of ladies. Their statutes
+decree that they are to be _bene natae, bene vestitae_, and
+_mediocriter_,--I don't remember what."
+
+SWEZEY perceived that he was being trifled with, and turned the
+conversation to the superior culture and scholarship of American
+politicians, with some thoughts on canvas-backed ducks.
+
+He next applied to a lady, whom he regarded as at once fashionable and
+well-informed, and asked her, "Who the Souls were, anyhow?"
+
+"Oh, a horrid, stuck-up set of people," said this Pythoness. "They
+have passwords, and wear a silver gridiron."
+
+"Why on earth do they do that?" asked SWEZEY.
+
+"No doubt for some improper, or blasphemous reason. Don't be a
+Soul--you had better be a Skate. I am a Skate. We wear a silver skate,
+don't you see" (and she showed him a model of an Acme Skate in
+silver), "with the motto, _Celer et Audax_--'Fast and Forward.'"
+
+SWEZEY expressed his pride at being admitted to these mysteries--but
+still pursued his inquiries.
+
+"What do the Souls _do_?"
+
+"All sorts of horrid things. They have a rule that no Soul is ever to
+speak to anybody who is not a Soul, in society, you know. And they
+have a rule that no Soul is ever to marry a Soul."
+
+"Exogamy!" said SWEZEY, and began to puzzle out the probable results
+and causes of this curious prohibition.
+
+"I don't know what you mean," said the lady, "and I don't know why you
+are so curious about them. They all read the same books at the same
+time, and they sacrifice wild asses at the altar of the Hyperborean
+Apollo, IBSEN, you know."
+
+These particulars were calculated to excite SWEZEY in the highest
+degree. He wrote a letter on the subject to the _Chanticleer_, a
+newspaper in Troy, Ill., of which he was a correspondent, and it was
+copied, with zinco-type illustrations, into all the journals of the
+habitable globe, and came back to England like the fabled boomerang.
+Meanwhile SWEZEY was cruising about, in town and country, looking
+out for persons wearing silver gridirons. He never found any, and the
+more he inquired, the more puzzled he became. He was informed that a
+treatise on the subject existed, but neither at the British Museum,
+nor at any of the newspaper offices, could he obtain an example of
+this rare work, which people asserted that they had seen and read.
+
+Finally SWEZEY made the acquaintance of a lady who was rumoured darkly
+to be learned in the matter. To her he poured forth expressions of his
+consuming desire to be initiated, and to sacrifice at the shrine.
+
+"There is not any shrine," said his acquaintance.
+
+    [Illustration: "Then what in the universe is it all about?"]
+
+"Well, I guess I want bad to be a Soul--an honorary one, of course--a
+temporary member."
+
+"There are conditions," said the Priestess.
+
+"If there's a subscription"----SWEZEY began.
+
+"There is not any subscription."
+
+"If there's an oath"----
+
+"There is not any oath."
+
+"Well what are the conditions, anyhow?"
+
+"Are you extremely beautiful?"
+
+Among the faults of SWEZEY, personal vanity was not reckoned. He shook
+his head sadly, at the same time intimating that he guessed no one
+would turn round in Broadway to look at the prettiest Englishwoman
+alive.
+
+Afterwards, he reflected that this was hardly the right thing to have
+said.
+
+"Are you extremely diverting?"
+
+SWEZEY admitted that gaiety was not his forte. Still, he pined for
+information.
+
+"What does the Society _do_?" he asked.
+
+"There is not any Society."
+
+"Then why do they call themselves Souls?"
+
+"But they don't call themselves anything whatever."
+
+"Then why are they called Souls?"
+
+"Because they----but no! That is the Mystery which cannot be divulged
+to the profane."
+
+"Then what in the universe is it all about?" asked SWEZEY; but this
+was a problem to which no answer was vouchsafed.
+
+SWEZEY is still going around, and still asking questions. But he has
+moments of despondency, in which he is inclined to allow that the poor
+islanders possess, after all, something akin to that boasted
+inheritance of his native land, the Great American Joke. "Guess
+they've played it on me," is the burden of his most secret
+meditations.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+THE INFANT'S GUIDE TO KNOWLEDGE.
+
+    (_Revised to date by Mr. Punch._)
+
+_Question._ What is an Infant?
+
+_Answer._ A guileless child who has not yet reached twenty-one years
+of age.
+
+_Q._ What is a year?
+
+_A._ An unknown quantity to a lady after forty. And this reply is
+distinctly smart.
+
+_Q._ What is "smartness"?
+
+_A._ The art of appearing to belong to a good set.
+
+_Q._ What is a good set?--_A._ A clique that prefers modes to
+morality, _chic_ to comfort, and frivolity to family ties.
+
+_Q._ What is _chic_?--_A._ An indefinable something, implying "go,"
+"fast and loose style," "slap-dash."
+
+_Q._ What is a dinner-party?
+
+_A._ A large subject, that cannot be disposed of in a paragraph.
+
+_Q._ What is a subject?--_A._ Something distinct from Royalty.
+
+_Q._ Can one be distinct after dinner?--_A._ Yes,--with difficulty.
+
+_Q._ What is a difficulty?
+
+_A._ When of a pecuniary character--the time following the using up of
+the pecuniary resources of your friends.
+
+_Q._ What is a friend?
+
+_A._ A man who dines with you--a past enemy or a future foe.
+
+_Q._ What is bad champagne?--_A._ A fruity effervescing beverage
+costing about thirty shillings the dozen.
+
+_Q._ What is good?--_A._ Cannot reply until I have received samples.
+
+_Q._ How can an inexperienced diner discover that he has taken bad
+champagne?
+
+_A._ By the condition of his head on the following morning.
+
+_Q._ What is a head?--_A._ A necessary alternative to money.
+
+_Q._ What is money?
+
+_A._ The only satisfactory representative of credit.
+
+_Q._ What are representatives?
+
+_A._ The mouthpieces of voters mustered in the House of Commons.
+
+_Q._ What is mustard?
+
+_A._ The chief ingredient of breakfast, after a night of it with your
+friends, when your appetite requires coaxing.
+
+_Q._ What is the future?--_A._ To-morrow, and the coming centuries.
+
+_Q._ And the past?--_A._ Two minutes ago, and all that went before.
+
+_Q._ And the present?--_A._ The right time for bringing the current
+instalment of the Infant's Guide to a prompt conclusion.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"ENCORE, ALADDIN!"
+
+    [Illustration: Notes for the _Storey_ of _Aladdin_, supplied
+    by M. Jacobi.]
+
+    [Illustration: Marie-Aladdin and the Electric Light Pollini.]
+
+ALADDIN at the Alhambra is a genuine "Ballet Extravaganza," the story
+being told in pantomimic action, illustrated by M. JACOBI'S
+sympathetic music. _Aladdin_ was an excellent subject for Mr. JOHN
+HOLLINGSHEAD to take, though I venture to think that our old friend
+_Blue Beard_ would be a still better one. The only fault I find with
+_Aladdin_ is that it is too soon over. It certainly will take rank
+among the most superb and the most dramatic spectacles ever placed on
+the Alhambra stage. _Aladdin_ ought to have been made much more of, as
+a sort of _L'Enfant Prodigue._ What a chance there would have been for
+him in games with the street-boys! Mlle. LEGNANI--so called, of
+course, from the graceful facility with which she remains for several
+seconds at a time on one leg--is both a pretty and nimble
+representative of the Dancing Princess. The _Slave of the Ring_ does
+not appear in this story, as far as I could gather, only the _Spirit
+of the Lamp_, Signorina POLLINI, puts in an appearance, and a very
+splendid appearance it is too! Mr. JOHN HOLLINGSHEAD is to be
+congratulated on having struck out a new line--though how he or the
+LORD CHAMBERLAIN could "_strike out a new line_" where there is no
+dialogue, will ever remain a mystery, even to M. JACOBI who knows most
+things well, and music better than anything. Mlle. MARIE is a
+sprightly _Aladdin_, her pantomimic action being remarkably good. How
+many _Aladdins_ have I seen! Whatever may become of other fairy
+tales--though all the best fairy tales are immortal--this of _Aladdin_
+will serve the stage for ever. At least, so thinks PRIVATE BOX.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+    [Illustration: CHEAP LAW IN THE CITY.
+
+    _Probable Development of the new "London Chamber of
+    Arbitration," for the economical Settlement of Disputes
+    without recourse to Litigation._]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+BASQUEING IN A NEW LANGUAGE.--Much interest has been excited by the
+report that Mr. GLADSTONE, during his stay at Biarritz, used up his
+spare moments by studying the Basque tongue. AUTOLYCUS hears that,
+contrary to his usual habit, the Right Hon. Gentleman has in this
+matter an ulterior purpose. Occasionally, in the heat of debate in the
+House of Commons, Mr. ABRAHAM drops into his native tongue, and
+addresses the SPEAKER in Welsh. Mr. GLADSTONE, desiring to add a fresh
+interest to Parliamentary proceedings, will, in such circumstances,
+immediately follow the Hon. Member for the Rhondda Vally, and continue
+the debate in Basque.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+EVIDENT, "WHEN YOU COME TO THINK OF IT."--At what most patriotic
+moment of a most patriotic French exile must his feelings be most
+bitter?--When his love turns to Gaul.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"TO BE CONTINUED."
+
+    [Illustration: A Tale Continued in our Next.]
+
+  How eagerly those tales I read
+    While still of tender years,
+  Of murder strange, of Haunted Grange,
+    And gory Buccaneers!
+  But, at the most exciting point,
+    Abruptly ceased the text,--
+  What rage was mine to meet the line,
+    _"Continued in our next"!_
+
+  Sometimes, indeed, misfortune sharp
+    The Journal would attend--
+  The funds would fail, and so the tale
+    Remains without an end.
+  Now, when I take a serial up,
+    I cry, in accents vexed,--
+  "I've read enough--why _is_ the stuff
+    _'Continued in our next'?"_
+
+  Ah well, the things we valued once
+    Enliven us no more!
+  (Remarks like these, if morals please,
+    I've furnished by the score.)
+  And should these verses but result
+    In making you perplexed,
+  You'll learn with glee _they_ will not be
+    _"Continued in our next"!_
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"Oh, these Christmas Bills!" cried PATERFAMILIAS. "That's what I do,"
+rejoined IMPEY QUNIOUS. "My sentiments and practice precisely--'Owe
+these Christmas Bills'--and many others."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+BUILDING THE SNOW MAN.
+
+  BILLY and JOHNNIE were two little boys,
+  Who wearied of lessons, and tired of their toys.
+  Says BILLY, "I've hit on an excellent plan;
+  Let's go out in the cold, JOHN, and build a Snow Man!"
+
+_Johnnie_ (_blowing his fingers_). Oh, I say, BILLY, isn't it cold,
+either?
+
+_Billy_ (_stamping_). _Is_ it, JOHNNIE? I haven't noticed it myself.
+
+_Johnnie._ Oh, you're as hard as nails, _you_ are. _My_ fingers are
+quite numb.
+
+_Billy._ Then work away briskly. _That'll_ warm 'em! Snow's a bit less
+binding than I expected to find it. Result of the severe frost, I
+suppose. But peg away, and we shall podge it into shape yet, JOHNNIE.
+
+_Johnnie._ Ye-e-e-s! (_Shivers_). But what--er--er--what pattern, or
+plan, or model, have we--that--is--er--have _you_--er--decided on,
+BILLY?
+
+_Billy_ (_winking_). Well, that's as it happens, JOHNNIE! Remember the
+one we built in '86--eh?
+
+_Johnnie_ (_shuddering_). I should think I did. Don't mean to say
+we're to go on _those_ lines again, BILLY?
+
+_Billy._ I mean to _say_ nothing of the kind. Many things have
+happened since then, JOHNNIE. For one thing, we've had heaps of
+advice.
+
+_Johnnie._ Hang it, yes! And where are the advisers? Standing aloof
+and criticising our work--_in advance_. Where's that bold, blusterous,
+bumptious Behemoth, BILL STEAD? Knew all about building Snow Men, _he_
+did; had a private monopoly of omniscience in that, as in most other
+things, BILL had. And now he's licking creation into shape for
+six-pence a month, and shying stones at us whenever he sees a chance.
+Little cocksure LABBY, too! Oh, _he_'s a nice boy! If BILL takes all
+Knowledge for his province, HENRY considers himself sole proprietor of
+_Truth_, and he lets us _have_ Truth--_his_ Truth--every week at
+least--in hard chunks--that hurt horribly. All in pure friendliness,
+too, as the Bobby said when he knocked the boy down to save him from
+being run over. Gr-r-r-r! Believe he's hiding behind the hedge there,
+with a pile of hard snowballs to pelt our Man out of shape as soon as
+we've licked him into it--if ever we do. TEDDY REED, too, _he_'s
+turned nasty, though he _does_ come from "gallant little Wales;" and
+now here's WALLACE, the Scotch boy--though _he_ was all right
+anyhow!--cutting up rough at the last moment, and complaining of our
+Snow Man (which they've all been howling for for six years), because
+he fancies its head is likely to be a little too Hibernian for his
+Caledonian taste! Oh, they're a nice loyal, grateful lot, BILLY! And
+where are the Irish bhoys themselves, in whose interests we are
+freezing our fingers and nipping our noses? Standing off-and-on, as it
+were, bickering like blazes among themselves, and only uniting to land
+_us_ a nasty one now and then--just to encourage us!
+
+_Billy_ (_patting and punching away vigorously_). Loyal? Grateful? Ah,
+JOHNNIE, you don't understand 'em as well as I do. Cold has got on
+your liver. You're a brave boy, JOHNNIE, but just a bit bilious.
+Building Snow Men isn't just like arranging bouquets, my boy. Let them
+bicker, JOHNNIE, and _listen to what they say_! It may all come in
+handy by-and-by. We've had gratuitous advice and volunteer plans all
+round, from ARTY BALFOUR and JOEY CHAMBERLAIN, as well as HENRY, and
+TEDDY, and TIM and JOHN E., and the rest of 'em. Let them talk whilst
+we build, JOHNNIE. 'Tis a cold, uncomfortable job, I admit; and
+whether "friendly" advice or hostile ammunition will do us the most
+damage I hardly know--yet. Fierce foes are sometimes easier to deal
+with than friendly funkers. A "Thunderer" in open opposition affrights
+a true Titan less than a treacherous Thersites in one's own camp. But,
+JOHNNIE, we've got to build up this Snow Man somehow, and on some
+plan! I only hope (_entre nous_, JOHNNIE) that a thaw won't set in,
+and melt it out of form and feature before it is fairly finished!
+
+    [_Left hard at it._
+
+    [Illustration: THE SNOW MAN.]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+    [Illustration: A DISTINCTION AND A DIFFERENCE.
+
+    _Mr. Wilkins._ "BEG PARDON, SIR POMPEY, BUT COULD YOU TELL ME
+    WHO THAT YOUNG GEN'L'MAN IS YOU JUST TOOK OFF YER 'AT TO?"
+
+    _Sir Pompey_ (_pompously_). "HE'S NOT A GENTLEMAN AT ALL,
+    WILKINS. HE'S A NOBLE LORD--THE RIGHT HONOURABLE LORD VISCOUNT
+    SPEEDICUTTS--A FRIEND OF MINE."
+
+    _Mr. Wilkins._ "INDEED, SIR POMPEY! BUT, I S'POSE _SOME_ OF
+    'EM'S GEN'L'MEN, SOMETIMES?"]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Great consternation at hearing of the arrest of "M. BLONDIN" in
+connection with the Panama scandals. Of course there can be only _one_
+BLONDIN, and some wiseacres at once applied the proverb about "Give
+him enough rope," &c. But BLONDIN never fell. It was quite another
+BLONDIN. The Hero of Niagara was not the Villain of the Panama
+piece--if villain he turn out to be. BLONDIN is still performing;
+always walking soberly, though elevated, on the rope that is quite
+tight. Maybe the rope gets tighter than ever at this jovial period,
+but BLONDIN, _the_ BLONDIN, our BLONDIN'S acts are in the sight of
+everybody, his proceedings are intelligible to all, though far above
+the heads of the people.
+
+       ***
+
+Still, whatever financial accident may have happened to M. BLONDIN, he
+has always kept his balance--on the rope.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+TO CHLORINDA.
+
+    (_With a Fan._)
+
+    [Illustration]
+
+  All in your glory you to-night
+  Will dance, and me they don't invite
+    Your charms to scan;
+  And, as a seal might send its skin
+  To please the girl it may not win,
+    I send a fan.
+
+  Behind this fan some other man
+    Your hand will hold;
+  Your fearless eyes, so bright and brown,
+  Will hide their gladness, glancing down,
+    No longer cold.
+  And your pale, perfect cheek will take
+  That colour for another's sake,
+    I ne'er controlled,--
+  Yet, ere you sleep, stray thoughts will creep
+    To days of old.
+
+  Of old! For in a single day,
+  When love first gilds a maiden's way,
+    The world grows new;
+  And from that new world you will send
+  Sweet pity to the absent friend
+    Who so loved you.
+
+  Loved--for my love will wither then;
+  I cannot share with other men
+    The dear delight
+  That dwells in your austerest tone,
+  That latent hope of joys unknown--
+  Though now you will not be my own,
+    Some day you might.
+
+  My trusted little friend of yore,
+  Of course you'd think my love a bore,
+    It's not romantic:
+  I've passed beyond the football stage,
+  And e'en despair is saved by age
+    From growing frantic.
+
+  No, like a veteran grim and grey,
+    With sling and crutch,
+  I am but fit to watch the fray
+  Where, in the world-old, witching way,
+  In other hands your fingers stay
+    With lingering touch,
+  That may mean nothing, or it may
+    Mean, oh! so much.
+
+  I'll wed some woman, prim of face,
+  Who'll duly fill the housewife's place,
+  And with her hard, domestic grace
+    Illusions scatter;
+  But sometimes when the stars are full,
+  While at my season'd pipe I pull,
+  I'll see my little love once more,
+  With brilliant lovers by the score,
+    Whose tributes flatter.
+  And, thinking of the light gone by,
+  Murmur with philosophic sigh,
+    "It doesn't matter."
+
+  And then, perchance, this fan you'll find,
+    When all the new romance is over.
+  Sweet, may you ne'er with troubled mind
+  Half wish you never had resigned,
+    Your truest lover.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Last week, Dr. ADLER gave, as appears by the extracts, an excellent
+Lecture on "Jewish Wit and Humour." He himself is well known as the
+_The Jew d'Esprit_.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+TEMPORARY CHANGE OF NAME.--Will Poplar Hospital be styled, "Un-pop'lar
+Hospital?"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"THE VERY LATEST."
+
+    ["A Cookery Autograph-book is the last idea. Each friend is
+    supposed to write a practical recipe for a dainty dish above
+    his or her signature."
+
+    _The Graphic._]
+
+  [Illustration]
+
+  No, MABEL, no;--though your behest
+    I always heed with rapt attention,
+  Most fervently I must protest
+    Against this horrible invention;
+  Your word has hitherto been law,
+  But this appears the final straw!
+
+  Obedient to imperious looks,
+    I've had to write, at your suggestion,
+  The answers in confession-books
+    To many an idiotic question;
+  I'll vow my favourite tint is blue
+  (The colour mostly worn by you);
+
+  I'll gladly draw a fancy sketch,
+    I'll make acrostics with elation,
+  I'll write you verses at a stretch,
+    Or give my views on vaccination;
+  But, even to fulfil your wishes,
+  I cannot manufacture dishes!
+
+  I know, in theory, how to make
+    The matutinal tea and coffee,
+  And, when at school, I used to bake
+    A gruesome mess described as toffee;
+  But these, which form my whole _cuisine_,
+  Are scarce the kind of thing you mean.
+
+  Of course I'd learn some more by heart,
+    If this could gain me your affection,
+  But fear the anguish on your part
+    Produced by faulty recollection;
+  On me, my MABEL, please to look
+  As lover only--not as Cook!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+CRINOLINE.
+
+    [Illustration]
+
+  Rumour whispers, so we glean
+  From the papers, there have been
+  Thoughts of bringing on the scene
+  This mad, monstrous, metal screen,
+  Hiding woman's graceful mien.
+  Better Jewish gabardine
+  Than, thus swelled out, satin's sheen!
+  Vilest garment ever seen!
+  Form unknown in things terrene;
+  Even monsters pliocene
+  Were not so ill-shaped, I ween.
+  Women wearing this machine,
+  Were they fat or were they lean--
+  Small as WORDSWORTH'S celandine,
+  Large as sail that's called lateen--
+  Simply swept the pavement clean:
+  Hapless man was crushed between
+  Flat as any tinned sardine.
+  Thing to rouse a Bishop's spleen,
+  Make a Canon or a Dean
+  Speak in language not serene.
+  We must all be very green,
+  And our senses not too keen,
+  If we can't say what we mean,
+  Write in paper, magazine,
+  Send petitions to the QUEEN,
+  Get the House to intervene.
+  Paris fashion's transmarine--
+  Let us stop by quarantine
+  Catastrophic Crinoline!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"More butter is coming from Victoria," says the _P. M. G._, "to the
+Mother Country." Our Colonies are not given to supplying us with this
+article of food to any great extent. It is generally the Mother
+Country that has buttered the Colonies.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+ON THREE POETS.
+
+    (_By the Fourth Party._)
+
+  SWINBURNE, AUSTIN, MORRIS,
+    Bardic busybodies,
+  Threnodies they wrote:--
+    _They_ were the Three Noddies!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Mrs. R. says that, in this cold weather, whenever she wants to know if
+there is to be a change, she consults her _thaw_mometer.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The amusing article, "A Man's Thoughts on Marriage," ought not to have
+appeared in _The Gentleman_, but in the _United Service Magazine_.
+This is evident.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+CONVERSATIONAL HINTS FOR YOUNG SHOOTERS.
+
+Before I proceed with the order of subjects which I have proposed to
+myself as the proper one to follow, I feel that I must revert for a
+moment to the question of "ladies at lunch." You may remember that
+some two or three weeks ago I ventured to offer some observations on
+this topic. Dear ladies, you can read for yourselves the winged words
+in which your adoring _Punch_ settled the matter. "By all means," I
+said, "come to lunch, if you must." What can be plainer or more
+direct? Bless your pretty, pouting faces, I am not responsible for the
+characters of my fellow-men, nor for the harsh language they use. If
+they behave like boors, and show an incomprehensible distaste for your
+delightful presence, am I, your constant friend, to be blamed? I
+cannot alter the nature of these barbarians. But what has happened
+since I published an article which had, at any rate, the merit of
+truthful portraiture? Why, I have been overwhelmed with epistolary
+reproaches in every variety of feminine hand-writing. "A CAREFUL
+MOTHER" writes from Dorset--a locality hitherto associated in my mind
+with butter rather than with blame--to protest that she has been so
+horrified by my cynical tone, that she does not intend to take me in
+any longer. She adds, that "_Punch_ has laid upon my drawing-room
+table for more than thirty years." Heavens, that I should have been so
+deeply, so ungrammatically, honoured without knowing it! Am I no
+longer to recline amid photograph albums, gift-books, and
+flower-vases, upon that sacred table? And are you, Madam, to spite a
+face which has always, I am certain, beamed upon me with a kindly
+consideration, by depriving it wantonly of its adorning and necessary
+nose. Heaven forbid! Withdraw for both our sakes that rash decision,
+while there is yet time, and restore me to my wonted place in your
+affections, and your drawing-room.
+
+But all are not like this. Here, for instance, is a sensible and
+temperate commentary, which it gives me pleasure to quote word for
+word as it was written:--
+
+DEAR MR. PUNCH,--I want to tell you that, although I am what one of
+your friends called "a solid woman," and ought to feel _deeply_ hurt
+by what you said about ladies at lunch, yet I liked that article the
+best. I think it was _awfully_ good. But don't you think you are all
+rather hard on ladies at shooting-boxes? My idea is that there ought
+to be some new rules about shooting-parties. At present, ladies are
+asked to amuse the men--at least that is my experience--and it is
+rather hard they may not sometimes go on the moors, if they want to.
+But, at the same time, I _quite_ understand that they are horribly in
+the way, and I am not surprised that the men don't want women about
+them when they are shooting. But couldn't they arrange to have a day
+now and then, when they could shoot all the morning, and devote
+themselves to amusing the women on the moors after lunch? Otherwise, I
+think there ought to be a rule that no women are to be invited to
+shooting-boxes. It is generally very dull for the women, and I feel
+sure the men would be quite as happy without them. I suppose the host
+might want his wife to be there, to look after things; but _she ought
+to strike_, and ask her lady-friends to do the same; and then they
+could go abroad, or to some jolly place, and enjoy themselves in their
+own way. Really we often get quite angry--at least I do--when men
+treat us as if we were so many dolls, and patronise us in their heavy
+way, and expect us to believe that the world was made entirely for
+them and their shooting-parties. There must be more give and take.
+And, if _we_ are to give you our sympathy and attention, _you_ must
+take our companionship a little oftener. We get so dull when we are
+all together.
+
+  Your sincere admirer, A LADY LUNCHER.
+
+I confess this simple letter touched an answering chord in my heart. I
+scarcely knew how to answer it. At last a brilliant thought struck me.
+I would show it to my tame Hussar-Captain, SHABRACK. That gallant son
+of Mars is not only a good sportsman, but he has, in common with many
+of his brother officers, the reputation of being a dashing, but
+discriminating worshipper at the shrine of beauty. At military and
+hunt balls the Captain is a stalwart performer, a despiser of mere
+programme engagements, and an invincible cutter-out of timid youths
+who venture to put forward their claims to a dance that the Captain
+has mentally reserved for himself. The mystery is how he has escaped
+scathless into what his friends now consider to be assured
+bachelor-hood. Most of his contemporaries, roystering, healthy, and
+seemingly flinty-hearted fellows, all of them, have long since gone
+down, one after another, before some soft and smiling little being,
+and are now trying to fit their incomes to the keep of perambulators,
+as well as of dog-carts. But SHABRACK has escaped. I found him at his
+Club, and showed him the letter, requesting him at the same time to
+tell me what he thought of it. I think he was flattered by my appeal,
+for he insisted on my immediate acceptance of a cigar six inches long,
+and proposed to me a tempting list of varied drinks. The Captain read
+the letter through twice carefully, and thus took up his parable:--
+
+"Look here, my son, don't you be put off by what the little woman
+says. She don't mean half of it. Get the hostess to strike!"--here he
+laughed loudly--"now that's a real good 'un. Why, they haven't got it
+in them. Fact is, they can't stand one another's company. She says as
+much, don't she? 'We get so dull when we are all together.' Well, that
+scarcely looks like goin' off on the strike together, does it? Don't
+you be alarmed, old quill-driver, they'll never run a strike of that
+kind for more than a day. They'll all come troopin' back, beggin' to
+be forgiven, and all that, and, by gum, we shall have to take 'em back
+too, just as we're all congratulatin' ourselves that we shan't have to
+go to any more blessed pic-nics. That's a woman's idea of enjoyin'
+herself in the country--nothin' but one round of pic-nics. I give you
+my word, when I was stayin' with old FRED DERRIMAN, in Perthshire,
+they reg'larly mapped out the whole place for pic-nics, and I'm dashed
+if they didn't spoil our best day's drivin by pic-nickin' in, 'oh,
+such a sweet place.' Truth is, they can't get along without us, my
+son, only they won't admit it, bless 'em! And, after all, we're better
+off when they're in the house, I'm bound to confess; so I don't mind
+lettin' 'em have a pic-nic or two, just to keep 'em sweet. Them's my
+sentiments, old cock, and you're welcome to them."
+
+I thanked the Captain for his courtesy, and withdrew. But if the whole
+thing is merely a matter of pic-nics, it is far simpler than I
+imagined.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+    [Illustration: TOO AFFECTIONATE BY HALF.
+
+    _Auntie._ "OH, YOU NAUGHTY BOY! WHAT ARE YOU DOING? SMOKING!
+    WHY YOU'LL NEVER GROW!"
+
+    _Artful Nephew._ "THAT'S JUST IT, AUNTIE. I DON'T WANT TO
+    GROW. I WANT TO KEEP THE SAME SIZE ALWAYS, SO THAT I CAN SIT
+    ON YOUR LAP, AN' LOVE YOU!"]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+    [Illustration: MR. PUNCH'S SKATING PARTY.]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+OUR BOOKING-OFFICE.
+
+"Have you read," asks one of the Baron's Assistants of his Chief,
+"Miss BRADDON's Christmas Annual? It is entitled, _The Misletoe
+Bough_, and contains some of the best short stories I have read
+lately. One of them, 'In Mr. CARTWRIGHT's Library,' is a remarkable
+combination of quaint, dry humour, and literary skill. Who is the
+clever author? But here are other stories, too, that interest and
+please, and, not least among them, a charming sketch, by the ever
+welcome editress. Bravo, Miss BRADDON!
+
+    [Illustration]
+
+"_Brownies and Rose-leaves_, by ROMA WHITE (INNES & CO.), is a pretty
+little book, prettily written, prettily illustrated by LESLIE BROOKE,
+and prettily bound," he continues. "Miss WHITE has a charming knack of
+writing musical verse, simple, rhythmical, delightful. To children and
+their parents, I say, take my tip (the only one parents will get at
+this season), and read ROMA WHITE's dainty, delicate, fresh and breezy
+book."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+ROBIN POOR FELLOW!
+
+_Robin Goodfellow_, by Mr. CARTON, is not a brilliant play, as its
+dialogue lacks epigrammatic sparkle: neither is it an interesting
+play, as the plot, such as it is, is too weak for words,--which, by
+the way, at once accounts for the absence of the sparkle
+above-mentioned.
+
+Three questions must have occurred to those who have already seen the
+play, and which those who may hereafter see it will be sure to ask
+themselves,--and they are these:--
+
+    [Illustration: Nearly burning his fingers. Mr. Hare acting
+    with Grace.]
+
+First. Why should _Grace's_ father, _Valentine Barbrook_, tell her of
+the means by which he had brought about the betrothal of _Hugh Rokeby_
+to _Constance_?
+
+Secondly. This being so, why allow six weeks to elapse when a word
+from the one girl, who knows, to the other, who doesn't, would explain
+everything?
+
+Thirdly. If a sudden shock would kill the grandmother, surely, in the
+course of six weeks, _Grace_ would have found out that her shortest
+and best way was to tell the truth to her cousin, without mentioning
+it to the old lady.
+
+If in doubt, why didn't she confide in the Doctor, who would at once
+have told her whether the nature of the communication she had to make
+was of a sufficiently startling nature to kill the old lady right off
+or not?
+
+The fact is, it was necessary to keep the lover, _Mr. Stanley
+Trevenen_, away for some time, in order to allow of there being a
+glimmer of probability in the announcement of his having thrown over
+the girl to whom he is devotedly attached, and having married somebody
+else whom he met abroad. "Now," says the dramatist, "what is the
+shortest possible space of time I can allow for this? Ahem!--say a
+month." So he gives him a month. "Then," says he, next, "what is the
+shortest possible time we can allow for an engagement and a marriage?
+Say six weeks. Good. Six weeks be it. Only, hang it, this muddle has
+to last for six weeks! Well, it can't be helped. I can't give any more
+trouble to the bothering plot; and, as after all, there's a capital
+character for Mr. HARE, and not at all a bad one for Miss RORKE, with
+a fairish one for FORBES ROBERTSON, why, if Mr. HARE will accept the
+play, and do it, I should say that, cast and played as it will be, it
+is pretty sure to be a success."
+
+    [Illustration: The Happy Pair.]
+
+So much for the Author and the Play. As to the Actors, Mr. HARE has
+had many a better part, and this is but an inferior species of a genus
+with which the public has long been familiar; but there is no one who
+can touch him in a part of this description. Admirable! most
+admirable! _Barbrook_ is in reality a silly elderly scamp, with all
+the will to be a villain but not endowed with the brains requisite for
+that line of life. Thus, the Author, unconsciously, has created him.
+But Mr. HARE invests this feather-headed scoundrel with Iago-ish and
+Mephistophelian characteristics, that go very near to make the
+audience believe that, after all, there _is_ something in the part,
+and also in the plot. But the part is only a snowman, and melts away
+under the sunlight of criticism. Miss KATE RORKE is charming. It is a
+monotonous and wearisome part, and the merit of it is her own. Miss
+NORREYS is very good but the girl is insipid. Miss COMPTON, as the
+good-hearted, knowing, fast lady, wins us, as she proves herself to be
+the real _Robin Goodfellow_, the real good fairy of the piece, _Robin
+Goodfellow_ is a misnomer, unless the aforesaid _Robin_ be dissociated
+from _Puck_: but it is altogether a bad title as applied to this piece
+for, as with Mr. CARTON's piece at the St. James's, _Liberty Hall_, it
+is a title absolutely thrown away. Mr. FORBES ROBERTSON is as good as
+the part permits, and it is the Author's fault that he is not better.
+Mr. GILBERT HARE gives a neat bit of character as the Doctor, and Mr.
+DONALD ROBERTSON may by now have made something of the rather foolish
+Clergyman (whether Rector, Vicar, or Curate I could not make out),
+whose stupid laugh began by making a distinct hit, and, on frequent
+repetition, became a decided bore. It is played in one Scene and three
+Acts, and no doubt in the course of a fortnight certain repetitious
+and needless lines will have been excised, and the piece will play
+closer, and may be an attraction, but not a great one, for some time
+to come. At all events, the part of _Valentine Barbrook_ will add
+another highly-finished picture to Mr. HARE'S gallery of eccentric
+comedy-character. I think of him with delight, and exclaim, once
+more--Admirable!
+
+    PRIVATE BOX.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+At Drury Lane the Baddeley Cake Meeting was a Goodly sight.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Symbol: Right-Pointing Hand] 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
+104, January 14, 1893, by Various
+
+*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PUNCH ***
+
+***** This file should be named 21598.txt or 21598.zip *****
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+
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+at https://www.pgdp.net
+
+
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+
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