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diff --git a/22051-h/22051-h.htm b/22051-h/22051-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..99fb03f --- /dev/null +++ b/22051-h/22051-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,2059 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> +<html> +<head> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=ISO-8859-1" /> +<title>The Project Gutenberg eBook of Punch, or the London Charivari, Vol. 98, February 1, 1890, by Various</title> +<style type="text/css" media="screen"> + +* { margin:0% ; padding:0%; } + +body { margin: 5% 15%; } + +h1,h2,h3 { margin: 3% 0%; text-align: center; } + +p { margin:1.5% 0% 0%; text-align:justify; } +p.ralign { text-align:right; } +p.center { text-align:center; } +p span.ralign { position: absolute;right: 30%; } + +img:hover { outline:1px solid blue; } +img { border:none; } +img.center { display:block; margin:3% auto; } +img.fleft { float:left; clear:left; padding:3% 3% 0% 0%; } +img.fright { float:right; padding:3% 0% 0% 3%; } + +.flright { float:right; padding:3% 0% 0% 3%; } +.flleft { float:left; clear:left; margin:3% 3% 0% 0%; padding:0% 1% 0% 0%; } + +blockquote { margin:0% 5%; } + +span.pagenum, p.pagenum +{ +position: absolute;left: 1%; +font-size: 75%; +font-weight:normal; +font-style:normal; +font-variant:normal; +} +.smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} +.subtitle { margin:0% 0% 3%; text-align:center; } +.caption { font-size:105%; margin:1% 0%; text-align:center; } + +hr { width:75%; margin:5% auto; } /* Page Separator */ +hr.short { width: 25%; } /* Charivari; breaks in an article */ +hr.half { width: 50%; } /* Breaks between articles */ +.masthead hr { margin:1% auto; } + +.poem { width:50%; margin:0 auto; } +.stanza { margin:1.75% 0%; } +.i2 { margin-left: 4em; } + +div.center { width:50%; margin: auto; } +.clear { clear:both; } +.lower { text-transform:lowercase; } + + hr.full { width: 100%; + margin-top: 3em; + margin-bottom: 0em; + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; + height: 4px; + border-width: 4px 0 0 0; /* remove all borders except the top one */ + border-style: solid; + border-color: #000000; + clear: both; } + pre {font-size: 75%;} +</style> +</head> +<body> +<h1>The Project Gutenberg eBook, Punch, or the London Charivari, Vol. 98, +February 1, 1890, by Various, Edited by Francis Burnand</h1> +<pre> +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 <a href = "http://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a></pre> +<p>Title: Punch, or the London Charivari, Vol. 98, February 1, 1890</p> +<p>Author: Various</p> +<p>Editor: Francis Burnand</p> +<p>Release Date: July 12, 2007 [eBook #22051]</p> +<p>Language: English</p> +<p>Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1</p> +<p>***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI, VOL. 98, FEBRUARY 1, 1890***</p> +<p> </p> +<h3>E-text prepared by V. L. Simpson, Malcolm Farmer,<br /> + and the Project Gutenberg Online Distributed Proofreading Team<br /> + (http://www.pgdp.net)</h3> +<p> </p> +<hr class="full" /> + +<div class='masthead'> +<h1>PUNCH,<br /> OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI</h1> + +<h2>VOL. 98</h2> + +<hr class="half" /> + +<h2>February 1, 1890</h2> +</div> + +<hr /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[Pg +49]</a></span></p> + +<h2>UNTILED; OR, THE MODERN ASMODEUS.</h2> + +<blockquote><p>"Très volontiers," repartit le démon. "Vous +aimez les tableaux changeans: je veux vous contenter."<br /> +<span class='ralign'><i>Le Diable Boiteux.</i></span></p></blockquote> + +<div> +<a href='images/i-049.png'> +<img class='flright' src="images/i-049th.png" width="414" height="380" +alt="" title="" /></a> +</div> + +<p class='subtitle' style='margin:3% 0% 0%'>XVIII.</p> + +<div class="stanza"> +"'<span class="smcap">Mrs. Mæcenas</span>!' So some would-be wit<br /> +Dubbed the fair dame. The title may not fit<br /> +<span class="i2">With accurate completeness;<br /></span> +It soars some shades too high, this modish <i>mot</i>,<br /> +As 'Mrs. <span class="smcap">Lyon-Hunter</span>' sinks too low;<br /> +<span class="i2">Both nick-names fail in neatness.<br /></span> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +"The '<i>acu tetigisti</i>,' tribute rare,<br /> +Not oft is earned, in Fleet Street or Mayfair,<br /> +<span class="i2">In these hot days of hurry.<br /></span> +<i>Salons</i>, Symposia, both have met their doom,<br /> +And wit, in the Victorian drawing-room,<br /> +<span class="i2">Finds a fell foe in flurry."<br /></span> +</div> + +<div class='poem clear'> +<div class="stanza"> +So spake the Shadow, with the covert sneer<br /> +That struck so coldly on the listening ear.<br /> +<span class="i2">Soft was his speech, as muffled<br /></span> +By some chill atmosphere surcharged with snow,<br /> +In unemphatic accents, level, low,<br /> +<span class="i2">Unhasting and unruffled.<br /></span> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +"Mrs. <span class="smcap">Mæcenas</span>, then, no <span class="smcap">Horace</span> finds<br /> +In all her muster of superior minds,<br /> +<span class="i2">Her host of instant heroes?<br /></span> +That's hard!" I said. "She does not greatly care,"<br /> +My guide rejoined. "Behold her seated there!<br /> +<span class="i2">Her court's as full as <span class="smcap">Nero's</span>.<br /></span> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +"<span class="smcap">Seneca</span> stands beside her. He's a prim,<br /> +Sententious sage. If she is bored by him,<br /> +<span class="i2">The lady doth not show it.<br /></span> +But there's a furtive glancing of her eye<br /> +Toward the entry. There comes <span class="smcap">Marx M'Kay</span>,<br /> +<span class="i2">The Socialistic Poet.<br /></span> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +"His lyric theories mean utter smash<br /> +To all his hostess cares for. Crude and rash,<br /> +<span class="i2">But musically 'precious.'<br /></span> +His passionate philippics against Wealth<br /> +Mammon's own daughters read, 'tis said, by stealth,<br /> +<span class="i2">And vote them 'quite delicious!'<br /></span> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +"All that makes life worth living to the throng<br /> +Of worshippers who mob this Son of Song,<br /> +<span class="i2">Money, Monopoly, Merriment,<br /></span> +He bans and blazes at in 'Diræ' dread;<br /> +But then they know his Muse is merely Red<br /> +<span class="i2">In metrical experiment.<br /></span> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +"Well-dressed and well-to-do, the flaming Bard<br /> +Finds life in theory only harsh and hard.<br /> +<span class="i2">His <i>chevelure</i> looks shaggy,<br /></span> +But his black broad-cloth's glossy and well-brushed,<br /> +And he'd feel wretched if his tie were crushed,<br /> +<span class="i2">His trousers slightly baggy.<br /></span> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +"<span class="smcap">Karl Marx</span> in metre or <span class="smcap">Lassalle</span> in verse,<br /> +The vampire-horde of Capital he'll curse,<br /> +<span class="i2">And praise the Proletariat;<br /></span> +But having thus delivered his bard-soul,<br /> +He finds it, practically, nice to loll<br /> +<span class="i2">With <span class="smcap">Dives</span> in his chariot.<br /></span> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +"Lyrical Communism will not fright<br /> +Those 'Molochs of the Mart' this Son of Light<br /> +<span class="i2">Keeps his poetic eye on.<br /></span> +'Who takes a Singer <i>au grand sérieux</i>?'<br /> +Mrs. <span class="smcap">Mæcenas</span> asks. So he's on view,<br /> +<span class="i2">Her Season's latest lion.<br /></span> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +"But not alone," I said. "If all this host<br /> +Are right authentic Leos, she must boast<br /> +<span class="i2">As potent charm as <span class="smcap">Circe's</span>.<br /></span> +What is her wand? Is't wit, or wealth, or both?"<br /> +"Listen! That's <span class="smcap">Mumps</span> the mimic, nothing loth,<br /> +<span class="i2">Rolling out <span class="smcap">Vamper's</span> verses!<br /></span> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +"<span class="smcap">Vamper</span> looks on and smiles with veiled delight.<br /> +Boredom's best friends are fellows who recite.<br /> +<span class="i2">None like, not many listen,<br /></span> +But all must make believe to stand about<br /> +And watch a man gesticulate and shout,<br /> +<span class="i2">With eyes that glare and glisten.<br /></span> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +"'Tis hard indeed to hold in high esteem<br /> +The man who mouths out <i>Eugene Aram's Dream</i><br /> +<span class="i2">In guttural tones and raucous.<br /></span> +All these have heard a hundred times before<br /> +Young Vox, the vain and ventriloquial bore<br /> +<span class="i2">They'd fain despatch to Orcus.<br /></span> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +"So have they listened many and many a time<br /> +To little <span class="smcap">Jinks</span>, the jerky comic mime,<br /> +<span class="i2">And his facetious chatter.<br /></span> +But ill would fare Town's guest if he refused<br /> +For the five hundredth time to be 'amused'<br /> +<span class="i2">By gush, or cockney patter.<br /></span> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +"<span class="smcap">Horace's</span> <i>Piso</i> were a pleasant chum<br /> +Compared with slangy laureates of the slum.<br /> +<span class="i2">Hist! There's a tenor twitter,<br /></span> +A tremulous twangle of the minor strings.<br /> +'Tis <span class="smcap">Seraphin</span>, sleek Amateur, who sings,<br /> +<span class="i2">'Glide where the moonbeams glitter!'<br /></span> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +"'To puling girls that listen and adore<br /> +Your love-lorn chants and woful wailings pour!'<br /> +<span class="i2">Sang <span class="smcap">Horace</span> to <span class="smcap">Hermogenes</span>.<br /></span> +<span class="smcap">Seraphin's</span> a <span class="smcap">Tigellius</span>, and his style<br /> +Would bring the bland Venusian's scornful smile<br /> +<span class="i2">The scowl of sour <span class="smcap">Diogenes</span>.<br /></span> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +"'Twere 'breaking butterflies upon the wheel'<br /> +To let such fribbles feel the critic steel<br /> +<span class="i2">With scalpel-like severity?<br /></span> +Granted! But will no pangs the victims urge<br /> +To abate that plague of bores, which is the scourge<br /> +<span class="i2">Of social insincerity?<br /></span> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +"Wisdom is here, and Wit, Talent and Taste:<br /> +The latest wanderer from the Tropic Waste,<br /> +<span class="i2">Sun-bronzed and care-lined, saunters<br /></span> +In cheery chat with mild-faced <span class="smcap">Mirabel</span>,<br /> +Who with Romance's wildest weirdest spell<br /> +<span class="i2">Has witched your Mudie-haunters.<br /></span> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +"Colossal <span class="smcap">Bayard</span>, <i>beau-sabreur</i>, whose blade<br /> +A dozen desert spearmen faced and stayed,<br /> +<span class="i2">Stoops his high-shoulder'd stature<br /></span> +To hear the twittering tones of Tiny <span class="smcap">Tim</span>,<br /> +A midget, but the soul of whit and whim,<br /> +<span class="i2">The genius of good-nature.<br /></span> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +"Boy-faced, but virile, vigorous, and a peer,<br /> +Lord <span class="smcap">Mossmore</span> talks with <span class="smcap">Violet de Vere</span>,<br /> +<span class="i2">The latest light of Fiction;<br /></span> +Steadily-rising statesman, season's star!<br /> +Calmly he hears, though Caste's keen instincts jar,<br /> +<span class="i2">Her strained self-conscious diction.<br /></span> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +"<span class="smcap">Meldrum</span>, the modish <i>medico</i>, laughs low<br /> +At ruddy <span class="smcap">Rasper's</span> keenly-whispered <i>mot</i>—<br /> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">Rasper</span>, a soul all strictures,<br /></span> +Holds the great world a field for sketchy chaff.<br /> +Many love not the man, but how they laugh<br /> +<span class="i2">At his swift, scathing pictures!<br /></span> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +"Wits of all grades, and Talents of all sorts,<br /> +With rival beauties holding separate courts,<br /> +<span class="i2">Find here parade, employment.<br /></span> +And yet, and yet, they all look cross, or tired;<br /> +Your cultured city has not yet acquired<br /> +<span class="i2">The art of true enjoyment.<br /></span> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +"Strange! London's poor find pleasure far too dear,<br /> +But here, with wealth, and wit, and charm, and cheer,<br /> +<span class="i2">All should go <i>so</i> delightfully.<br /></span> +Time gay as in the Golden Age should fleet,<br /> +But the most brilliant stars in Babylon meet,<br /> +<span class="i2">And—bore each other frightfully."<br /></span> +</div> +</div> + +<p class='center'> +(<i>To be continued.</i>)<br /> +</p> + +<hr class='half' /> + +<h2>IN THE NAME OF CHARITY—GO +TO PRISON!</h2> + +<p><span class="smcap">Last</span> week <i>Mr. Punch</i> asked, "Oh, +where, and oh where, is The Public Prosecutor?" and he has received an +answer. It appears that the official has been recently engaged (his +letter is dated the 30th of November) in suppressing an "illegal scheme" +to aid the funds of the North-West London Hospital. It appears that, +with a view to increasing the revenue of that most deserving charity, it +was arranged to treat some presents that had been made to the +Institution as "prizes," to be given to those who sent donations to the +hospital. There was to be a "drawing," which was to be duly advertised +in the daily papers. But this could not be tolerated. +Sir <span class="smcap">A. K. Stephenson</span>, Solicitor to Her +Majesty's Treasury, after denouncing the scheme in the terms above set +forth, informed the Secretary of the Hospital, "that all persons +concerned therein subjected themselves to the penalties imposed by the +Acts passed for the suppression of illegal lotteries." Well, the law is +the law, and it would never do for <i>Mr. Punch</i> to dispute the point +with so learned a gentleman as Sir <span class="smcap">A. K. +Stephenson</span>—the more especially as Sir A. K. S. has just +been patented a Q.C.—but if the Public Prosecutor can stop +"illegal schemes" for benefiting the sick, why can he not also deal with +the professional perjurers, suborners of witnesses, and fabricators of +false evidence? <i>Mr. Punch</i> pauses for a reply, but is disinclined +to pause much longer!</p> + +<hr class='half' /> + +<p><span class="smcap">Our Turn Now.</span>—An excited paragraph +in the morning papers announces that "two Doctors of Vienna have +succeeded in discovering the Influenza <i>bacillus</i> after a series of +experiments in the Chemical and Physiological Laboratory of the +University." This is capital. Hitherto the Influenza <i>bacillus</i> has +discovered <i>us</i>. Now the tables are turned, and the question is, +What shall we do with our prize? A little transaction in boiling lead +might not be bad to begin with.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_50" +id="Page_50">[Pg 50]</a></span></p> + +<div> +<a href='images/i-050.png'> +<img class='center' src="images/i-050th.png" width="492" height="550" +alt="" title="" /></a> +<h3>AN OLD FABLE.</h3> + +<p class='caption'><i>Frog.</i> "<span class="smcap">I mean to be as Big as you, one +Day, and Swallow you up. Bust if I don't!</span>"</p> +</div> + +<hr class='half' /> + +<h2>A "FISH OUT OF WATER" AT GREENWICH.</h2> + +<p>In a not very wise speech delivered while presiding at the opening of +a new series of lectures in connection with the Greenwich Branch of the +Society for the Extension of University Teaching, Lord +<span class="smcap">Wolseley</span> modestly admitted "that whatever information he had +acquired in life had been acquired from the ordinary penny newspaper +which he had read day by day." No doubt this rather +humiliating fact accounts for the florid style of the proclamations +"Our Only General" used to publish in Egypt and elsewhere—proclamations +at the time recognised as having the tone of Astley's +in the good old days of the <i>Battle of Waterloo</i> and other military +melodramas. However, if it pleases Lord <span class="smcap">Wolseley</span> to give materials +for a future biography, that is no one's concern but his own. +Unfortunately he touched upon another matter, about which he +knows evidently very little, if anything at all. His Lordship spoke +in very disrespectful terms of what he called the "Shilling Dreadful," +which, he declared (in this instance accurately enough), was "prized +by many people." Certainly the novelette is more popular than <i>The +Soldier's Pocket-book</i>, although both <i>brochures</i> are equally works of +imagination. So it should be, considering that amongst the authors +who have produced it have been <span class="smcap">Wilkie Collins</span>, <span class="smcap">Hugh Conway</span>, +<span class="smcap">F. Anstey</span>, <span class="smcap">Robert Buchanan</span>, <span class="smcap">Grant Allen</span>, <span class="smcap">Walter Besant</span>, +<span class="smcap">Rhoda Broughton</span>, and others equally well known to fame. He concluded +by remarking, "that if men of all politics were to be shaken +up in a bag, he believed there would be very little difference between +them." Quite true, if the bag were shaken sufficiently long to complete +the transformation—but it would be rather a brutal experiment!</p> + +<hr /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[Pg +51]</a></span></p> + +<div class='illustration flright' style='border-left:1px +solid;border-bottom:1px solid; margin:1em;'> +<a href='images/i-051.png'> +<img src="images/i-051th.png" width="401" height="500" alt="" title="" +/></a> + +<h3>REFRESHMENTS IN VOGUE.</h3> + +<p class='caption smcap'>"Quinine or Antipyrine, my Lady?"</p> +</div> + +<h2>A PAGE FROM A DIARY.</h2> + +<p class='subtitle'> (<i>Purely Imaginary.</i>)</p> + +<p><i>First Week.</i>—Now let me see what I have to do. I will +leave out of consideration my extra-parliamentary utterances—they +will take care of themselves. Shan't forget +<i>them</i>. But other matters. Well, I have to turn the works +of my dear old friend <span class="smcap">Alf Tennyson</span> into Greek—of course, omitting certain highly injudicious lines of a reactionary +character. Then I must read through the last edition of +the <i>Encyclopædia Britannica</i>. No skipping, but go through +<i>every</i> article thoroughly and conscientiously. Then, of +course, there is Grand Day at Gray's Inn. Must <i>not</i> forget +that. Should like, above all things, to be present. Now let +me see that I have got the date all right. Yes, I remember. +Grand Day, Hilary Term. Falls on a Thursday. I shan't forget.</p> + +<p><i>Second Week.</i>—Translation +of <span class="smcap">Tennyson</span> into Greek going on famously. Not +had time to cut down any trees, so busy have I been. Got as far as +"Foghorn" in <i>Encyclopædia Britannica</i>. New edition a very +good one. Glad I made up my mind to read it. Let me see, anything else? +Why, to be sure, Grand Day at Gray's Inn! Rather cut off my hand or even +my head, than forget <i>that</i>! Treasurer particularly nice man. So +are all the Benchers. So are all the Barristers and the Students. +Excellent fellows, all of them—yes, excellent. So must not forget +Grand Day at Gray's Inn. To be sure. Falls on a Thursday.</p> + +<p><i>Third Week.</i>—<i>A. T.</i> progressing nicely. Little +difficulty about the translation of the <i>Northern Farmer</i>. Rather +awkward to give the proper weight of a country dialect in Greek. +However, it reads very well, indeed! Think my dear old +friend <span class="smcap">Alf</span> will be pleased with it; he should +be, as it has given me a good deal of trouble. However, all's well that +ends well. <i>E. B.</i> also satisfactory. Got into the "D's." Article +upon the "Docks," scarcely exhaustive enough to please me, so have been +reading some other books upon the same subject. Forgotten nothing? No, +because I remember I have to dine at Gray's Inn. Yes, to be +sure—23rd of January. Grand Day. Hilary Term. Falls on a Thursday. +Would not forget it to save my election! Looking forward to the port. +Excellent port at Gray's Inn, I am told. Well, well, I shall be there! I +don't believe much in artificial memory, but to assist my recollection, +I have tied knots in all my pocket-handkerchiefs. Wouldn't forget the +fixture for a kingdom. Falls on a Thursday.</p> + +<p><i>Fourth Week.</i>—Finished Greek translation +of <span class="smcap">Tennyson's</span> Poems. Very pleased with the +result. Must send a copy to dear old <span class="smcap">Alf</span>. +Perhaps it might suggest to him that it would be a graceful compliment +in return to translate all my speeches into Latin verse. Dear old +friend! There is not another man to whom I would entrust such a task +with equal heartiness. He would do it <i>so</i> well. Must look up my +earlier orations. If <span class="smcap">Alf</span> does <i>any</i> of +it, he should do it <i>all</i>. I do not believe in half measures. +Nearly finished the <i>E. B.</i> Article upon "Music" very interesting. +"Pigs" not so good; however "Wheel-barrows" excellent and exhaustive. +Rather angry to find knots in my handkerchiefs, &c., until I +suddenly remembered they were to remind me of my engagement to dine at +Gray's Inn. To be sure. Grand Day, Hilary Term. Falls on a Thursday. +Sure to be a delightful evening. Several of my young Irish friends are +members of the Society. I am looking forward to it <i>so</i> much. +Useful things, knots. Remembered it at once! Tie them again. Also +put <i>grey</i> wideawake hat over clock in my study. That will remind +me of <i>Gray's</i> Inn. Falls on a Thursday!</p> + +<p><i>Last Week.</i>—There, now I can come to this book with a +clear conscience. Done everything. Greek translation of +<span class="smcap">Tennyson</span> ready for press. Finished letter "Z" last night, +in final volume of the <i>Encyclopædia Britannica</i>. Nothing +omitted. Rather annoyed to find someone has been tying +knots in my handkerchief. Hate practical jokes! Careless +person, too, has been hanging my old grey wideawake on the +clock in my study. Rather a liberty! Don't like liberties. +Always courteous to <i>everybody</i>—consequently, expect <i>everybody</i> +to be courteous to <i>me</i>! Still, can't help smiling. It +<i>was</i> a quaint idea to hang my old wideawake on the clock in +my study. I wonder what put such a freak into the joker's +head! Now let me look at the paper that has just reached +me from London. Dear me, "The Vacant Chair." That seems +a good title. And all about Gray's Inn! Now, I like +Gray's Inn—a most excellent place; everyone connected with +it great friends of mine. And writing of Gray's Inn, that +reminds me—Good gracious! Why, last night was +Thursday, and I forgot to be there!!!</p> + +<hr class='half' /> + +<h2>MENU-BETTING.</h2> + +<p><span class="smcap">Gentlemen</span> who bet on every event in +life—who cut cards to decide whether they shall go into the City +by cab or by underground train, and toss up to see whether they had +better dine at home or at the Club, may be interested to know of a new +game of chance which can be played at dinnertime, and in which ladies +not only may but must take part. "Betting on the <i>menu</i>" it is +called; and it is done in this way. You ask the lady next to you on the +right—the one you have taken in to dinner—permission to +speculate as to what dishes she will choose from among those inscribed +on the <i>menu</i>; and you back your selection in a series of bets +either with the lady herself, or—if she happens not to be what the +French call "<i>sportive</i>"—with any gentleman who may be +willing to do business with you. Suppose the lady takes you? You make a +pencil-mark against each dish which, it seems to you, she will fancy; +and if you are right more often than you are wrong, you win—and +the lady does not pay you. In the contrary case you lose—and you +pay the lady. It need scarcely be said that you annotate your own copy +of the <i>menu</i>, and that the lady does not see it until the dinner +is at an end. The same principle is observed in betting with a gentleman +in reference to a lady's probable selection; but in this latter case +neither of the parties interested is at liberty to express any opinion, +directly or indirectly, as to the merits or demerits of the different +dishes from which the lady has to choose. Any member of the unfair sex +may make sure of winning from her antagonist—who will naturally +have marked a certain number of dishes—by simply abstaining from +food throughout the dinner; though the lady of the house might think +this impolite. <i>Menu</i>-betting is in any case an agreeable pastime +for both sexes. It promotes digestion; and any woman of moderate ability +may make money by it.</p> + +<hr class='half' /> + +<p>"<span class="smcap">More Light!</span>"—The British Museum is, +it appears, presently to be opened at night, its (Elgin) marble halls +and others being illuminated with the electric light. Concurrently with +this happy event Mr. <span class="smcap">Louis Fagan</span>, of the +Departments of Prints and Drawings, announces a course of three popular +lectures on the Treasures of the Museum, to be delivered next month at +the Steinway Hall. No one knows more about the Museum than +Mr. <span class="smcap">Fagan</span>, and, with the assistance of 170 +photographic reproductions, exhibited by oxyhydrogen light, he will +teach the public a thing or two about its foundation, progress, and +present contents.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[Pg +52]</a></span></p> + + +<div class='flleft' +style='width:403px;border-right:1px solid;border-bottom:1px solid; +padding-bottom:1%;padding-right:1.5%;'> +<a href='images/i-052.png'> +<img src="images/i-052th.png" width="403" height="500" alt="" title="" +/></a> + +<h3>PHENOMENAL.</h3> + +<p class="smcap">Near-sighted Man in Church, inspecting Sham +Insect on Lady's Bonnet. He is so excited by the discovery, that he +hurries out of Church in the middle of the Service, in order to write to +the Papers to announce the sudden appearance of a magnificent specimen +of the large Tortoise-Shell Butterfly on our Shores in mid-January, as a +proof of the Mildness of the Climate.</p> +</div> + +<h2>AMONG THE AMATEURS.</h2> + +<p class='center'>No. IV.—RETROSPECT.</p> + +<blockquote><p><span class="smcap">Scene</span>—<i>A large Room, +in which Guests are assembling previous to a Supper in honour of a Great +Actor, who is about to leave for a tour to the United States. There has +been a magnificent farewell performance, in which the Great Actor has +surpassed himself. The public has shown unparalleled enthusiasm; the G. +A. has appeared before the Curtain, and in a voice choked with emotion +has assured his audience that the one thing that sustains him at this +trying moment is the prospect of seeing them all again when he +returns.</i></p> + +<p><span +class="smcap">Time</span>—11.45 <span +class="smcap lower">P.M.</span> <i>The Room is full of histrionic, literary, +and artistic Celebrities, with a few stray Barristers and Doctors, who +like to show publicly that in spite of the arduous labours of their +professions, they can enjoy a mild dissipation as well as any man. Most +of the leading lights of the "Thespian +Perambulators,"</i> <span +class="smcap">Boldero</span>, <span class="smcap">Tiffington +Spinks</span>, <span +class="smcap">Gushby</span>, <span class="smcap">Andrew +Jarp</span>, <i>and</i> <span class="smcap">Hall</span>, <i>have come to +prove by their presence the sympathy of the Amateur Stage. On the last +night but one they had concluded their series of performances at +Blankbury. The Chairman of the Banquet is a middle-aged Peer, who is a +regular attendant at first nights, and occupies a subordinate office in +the Ministry. The Guest of the Evening has not yet arrived. A buzz of +conversation fills the air. The Secretary of the Banquet, an actor, is +anxiously hurrying about with a list, on which he ticks off +names.</i></p></blockquote> + +<p><i>The Secretary</i> (<i>to</i> <span class="smcap">Boldero</span>). +So glad all you fellows have been able to come. I've put you pretty well +together, as you wished. I wonder where—oh! here he is at +last.</p> + +<blockquote><p><i>Enter Great Actor. The Secretary rushes to him. +Hand-shakings and congratulations all round. The G. A. moves up the room +to where the Amateurs are standing.</i></p></blockquote> + +<p><i>G. A.</i> (<i>shaking hands.</i>) Ah! this is really +friendly, <span class="smcap">Tiffington</span>, really friendly. Were +you in front to-night?</p> + +<p><i>Tiffington.</i> Of course we were. We wouldn't have missed it for +a thousand pounds. It went first class. I thought your idea of +stabbing <span class="smcap">Alphonso</span> from behind instead of in +front, was a genuine inspiration.</p> + +<p><i>G. A.</i> Approbation from Sir <span class="smcap">Hubert</span>. +(<i>Bows and leaves quotation unfinished</i>). But I've always played it +like that, I think.</p> + +<p class='ralign'>[<i>Supper is announced. The Guests troop in to the +supper-room.</i></p> + +<p><i>Tiffington</i> (<i>to</i> <span class="smcap">Jarp</span>, <i>as +they walk in</i>). He's wrong there. Never did it like that before; and, +after all, I'm not sure it is such an improvement. But if you don't +praise these fellows they never forgive you.</p> + +<p><i>Jarp.</i> Didn't he say anything about our show at Blankbury? I +thought you wrote to him about it.</p> + +<p><i>Tiffington.</i> So I did; wrote specially to tell him how well +things had gone off. But you might just as well try to pump wine out of +a pillar-box, as expect a word of sympathy or encouragement from a +professional. They're all the same.</p> + +<p class='ralign'>[<i>They take their +seats,</i> <span +class="smcap">Tiffington</span> <i>and</i> <span +class="smcap">Jarp</span> <i>on one side of the table, the other three +opposite them. The supper begins.</i></p> + +<p><i>Friend of the G. A.</i> +(<i>on</i> <span class="smcap">Tiffington</span>'s <i>right</i>). +Splendid performance, was it not? I never saw him in finer form in my +life. It's quite impossible to imagine anything more dignified and +pathetic than his death-scene.</p> + +<p><i>Tiffington</i> (<i>dubiously</i>). Hum! Yes. I'm not sure I should +do it like that quite. What do you +say, <span class="smcap">Gushby</span>?</p> + +<p><i>Gushby.</i> It's not my idea at all. He spins it out far too long. +I should like to see you act that, <span class="smcap">Tiff</span>.</p> + +<p><i>Tiffington</i> (<i>complacently</i>). Ah, well, so you might if +things were managed with common fairness. But (<i>bitterly</i>) you know +well enough there's a regular conspiracy against me. (<i>To Friend of G. +A.</i>) Now, of course, you've read the notices of our performance +of <i>Heads or Tails</i>? Yes. I thought you had. Well, you <i>must</i> +have observed, that I don't get more than two lines in any one of them, +not a word more than two lines upon my soul, and yet any fool knows that +my part was the chief one. But there you are. The beggars daren't abuse +me. They know the public won't stand that, so, just to spite me, they +try to leave me out. But they're very much mistaken if they think I +care. Pooh! I snap my fingers at them and their wretched conspiracy.</p> + +<p class='ralign'>[<i>Snaps them, and drinks moodily. The supper proceeds. +Conversation everywhere ranges over all kinds of +topics,—literature, art, the drama, the political situation, the +last Divorce Case. The Amateurs continue to discuss +themselves.</i></p> + +<p><i>Jarp</i> (<i>to</i> <span class="smcap">Boldero</span>). Did you +see that infamous notice in <i>The Moonbeam</i>? Just like that +rascal <span class="smcap">Penfold</span>. He can't help showing his +jealousy, because we never asked him to join the Perambulators.</p> + +<p><i>Boldero.</i> Yes. There you have it in a nutshell. I tell you what +it is, we shall have to exclude all critics from our show in future.</p> + +<p><i>Tiffington.</i> Ah! that would punish them—and serve them +right, too. Are you going to sing +to-night, <span class="smcap">Hall</span>?</p> + +<p><i>Hall</i> (<i>with a sigh of resignation</i>). I suppose I shall +have to. I told <span class="smcap">Batterdown</span> I should be ready, +if wanted.</p> + +<p><i>Jarp.</i> Have you got anything new?</p> + +<p><i>Hall.</i> Rather. Something particularly neat, I think. I call it +"<i>The Super at Supper</i>." It goes like this:—</p> + +<p class='ralign'>[<i>Hums to his friends, who listen with rapt +attention, occasionally interchanging glances expressive of enthusiastic +admiration.</i></p> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +I once knew a Super, a festive soul,<br /> +Who quaffed champagne from a brimming bowl,<br /> +And all night long as he quaffed he sang,<br /> +"The Dukes may swing, and the Earls go hang,<br /> +And the Duchesses, 'drat 'em, may go and be blowed;<br /> +They've all been there, and they know the road—<br /> +They're slaves, but the Super who sups is free—<br /> +Oh! the Super's life is the life for me!<br /> +</div> +<p class='center'><i>Chorus.</i></p> +<div class="stanza"> +With a hey-diddle-diddle and fiddle-di-dee,<br /> +Oh! the supping Super's the man for me!"<br /> +</div> +</div> + +<p><i>Spinks, Boldero, Gushby, Jarp</i> (<i>with +enthusiasm</i>). My dear fellow, that's immense.</p> + +<p><i>Hill.</i> Yes, it's not bad. There are six verses, some of them +even better than that.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[Pg +53]</a></span></p> + +<p class='ralign'>[<i>The Chairman rises to propose the only toast of the +evening, "Success to the Great Actor who is about to leave us for a +short time." The usual speech—reminiscent, anecdotic, prophetic of +tremendous triumphs, mildly humorous, pathetic.</i></p> + +<p><i>The Chairman</i> (<i>concluding</i>). Therefore I bid you all +charge your glasses as full of wine as your hearts are full of sympathy, +and join me in wishing success to the Great Man, who is about to cull +new laurels in a foreign land.</p> + +<p class='ralign'>[<i>Roars of applause. Immense enthusiasm. The Great +Actor responds. He is moved to tears. He assures his friends, that +wherever he may go his heart will ever turn fondly to them. Great +cheering.</i></p> + +<p><i>Tiffington</i> (<i>puffing his cigar</i>). Not so bad. I always +said he could speak better than he could act.</p> + +<p class='ralign'>[<i>The supper +concludes.</i> <span class="smcap">Hall</span> <i>has not been asked to +sing.</i></p> + +<p><i>Friend of Great Actor</i> (<i>departing, +to</i> <span class="smcap">Tiffington</span>). It's been a splendid +evening, hasn't it?</p> + +<p><i>Tiffington</i> (<i>putting on his coat</i>). Yes. Pretty fair. +(<i>To</i> <span class="smcap">Hall</span>.) Sorry for you, old chap. +But the song will keep.</p> + +<p><i>Hall.</i> Keep? Oh, yes, it'll keep. I'll make it red-hot for the +lot of 'em, and sing it at Blankbury next year. They won't like that, I +rather think.</p> + +<p><i>Jarp.</i> No, by Gad!</p> + +<p class='ralign'>[<i>Exeunt omnes.</i></p> + +<hr class='half' /> + +<h2>THE SHREWING OF THE TAME.</h2> + +<p> +<span class="smcap">Dear Mr. Punch</span>,<br /> +</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Mr. F. R. Benson</span> deserves commendation for +a new idea. +<span class="smcap">Shakspeare</span> has been presented in many forms, but the notion of +giving the Bard without any acting to speak of is a novelty. And +it is not quite certain that it is a mistake. After all, a bad actor is +an infliction, and it is better to have gentlemen who have not spent +centuries in mastering the intricacies of their profession than a noisy +personage who tears his passions to atoms. The recent revivals of +<i>A Midsummer Night's Dream</i> and the <i>Taming of the Shrew</i> at the +Globe Theatre show how pleasing Shakspearian representations may +be made, even when their success depends less upon elocution than +scenic effect. The first of these plays was simply delightful, with +its fairy glades and "built-up" temples. The last, too, is well off +for "cloths," pleasingly representing Padua and Verona. The performers +(with the exception of Mr. <span class="smcap">Stephen Phillips</span>, who speaks +his lines with admirable effect) are not so noticeable. One of the +best-played parts in the piece is filled by an actor whose name does +not appear in the programme. He has nothing to do but to carry +off <i>Katherina</i> (Mrs. <span class="smcap">F. R. Benson</span>), in Sc. 5., Act III., on his back. +That he looks like an ass while doing this goes without saying, but +still he is a valuable addition to the cast. From an announcement +in the programme, it appears that <i>Othello</i>, <i>Hamlet</i>, and the +<i>Merchant of Venice</i> are shortly to be played. It seems at the first +blush a difficult task to pick out of Mr. <span class="smcap">Benson's</span> present company +a gentleman quite suited to fill the title <i>rôles</i> in the two first, and +<i>Shylock</i> in the last. But, no doubt, the Lessee and Manager thinks +the playing of the characters of the Prince of Denmark and the +Moor a matter of minor importance. And, if he does, it may be +argued, from the cordial reception that has been accorded to +<i>A Midsummer Night's Dream</i> and the <i>Taming of the Shrew</i>, that +he has an excellent reason for his opinion.</p> + +<p>Believe me, yours truly,<br /> +<span style='margin-left: 1em;' class='smcap'>One who is Easily +Pleased</span>.</p> + +<hr class='half' /> + +<h2>HOW TO MEET IT.</h2> + +<p><span class="smcap">Sir</span>,—Having read all the letters +that have appeared in the papers suggesting a treatment for the +prevailing epidemic, I have got, perhaps, a little confused; but, on the +whole, the following is the course, as far as I can make out, that it +would be prudent to pursue on finding oneself threatened with any of the +well-known symptoms. Immediately get into a warm bath several degrees +hotter than you can possibly bear it, then get out again. Now go to bed, +send for your family solicitor, and make your will, meantime trying +every half hour half a tumbler or so of any patent medicine the +advertisement of which occurs to you. Call in a homœopathic doctor, +and give his system a turn for four-and-twenty hours; then send for your +own medical man. Take care that they do not meet on the stairs. Take +anything and everything he gives you for the next eight-and-forty hours, +interspersing his prescriptions with frequent tumblers of hot and +steaming ammoniated quinine-and-water, getting down at the same time +more beef tea, oysters, champagne, muffins, mince-pies, oranges, nuts, +and whiskey than, under ordinary circumstances, you feel would be good +for you. Continue the above treatment for a couple of months. This is +what I am going to try, if I am down with it. As I said above, it is, if +a little complicated, sure to be all right, for I have got every item of +it from a careful perusal of those infallible guides and directors in +all modern difficulties and doubts,</p> + +<p> +<span class="smcap">The Daily Papers</span>.<br /> +</p> + +<hr class='half' /> + +<h2>KICKED!</h2> + +<p class='center'>(<i>By the Foot of Clara Groomley.</i>)</p> + +<p class='center smcap'>Chapter II.</p> + +<p>I am still at Ryde, and it is still raining. On a day like this, a +little Ryde goes a great way. No Ryde without rain. <i>Telle est la +vie.</i> The young girls at Plumfields sit writing themes indoors +instead of taking their exercise in the open air.</p> + +<div class='flright'> +<a href='images/i-053.png'> +<img src="images/i-053th.png" width="326" height="400" alt="" title="" +/></a> +</div> + +<p>If this rain keeps on, I shall go to wild Assam again, or to the +Goodwin Sands. <span class="smcap">James</span>, the headwaiter, has +told me thirteen different stories of the haunted room of this hotel. +None of them are amusing, or interesting, or have anything to do with +this tale. If I were writing a shilling volume, I should put them in by +way of padding. As it is, they may go out. I too will go out.</p> + +<hr class='short' /> + +<p>I have seen Mlle. <span class="smcap">Donnerwetter</span>. She was +racing along on the pier, and I was pacing along in the rear. I saw her +and caught her up. I hastily pressed all the valuables that I had with +me—four postage-stamps and an unserviceable watch-key—into +her hand, and entreated her to give me an interview with +Miss <span class="smcap">Smith</span>.</p> + +<p>"Me muchee want to oblige English Sahib," she said, in her pulverised +English, "but ze Effendina—ze what you call 'ead-mistress, French +lady like myself—she no like it. She give me the <i>bottine</i>, +if I let great buckra massa talk to +Fraulein <span class="smcap">Smeets</span>. But lookee—I give you +straight tip. Miss <span class="smcap">Smeets</span> is on ze pier +now—you write note—slip it in her hand. I wink ze eyebrow. I +have a grand envy to oblige the English Signor. Ah! Bismillah! <i>Quelle +alouette!</i>"</p> + +<p>She is French, very French, but she has a kind heart. I hurriedly +wrote a few impassioned words on my left cuff, and folded it into a +three-cornered note. I dropped it down +Miss <span class="smcap">Smeet's</span> neck as I found her leaning over +the side of the pier, and then ran away. I heard her murmur, "Someone's +mistaken me for the post-office."</p> + +<p>It is still raining, but I am quite happy. I have seen her again, and +I feel that she loves me. It was impossible to mistake the +<i>tendresse</i> with which she murmured, "post-office." In my little +note I requested her to send a reply to this hotel. I have asked her +to tell me plainly what her income is, and to state on what conditions +she will forfeit it. Of course, she has no income now, as she is a +minor, but I would wait a year or two for a certainty. Shall I write +her some verses—lines to a minor, or thoughts on the Southampton +quay? Perhaps I had better wait until I obtain the statistics. Ah, +here is <span class="smcap">James</span>, bringing me a note. It must be from my darling—no, +it is from Mademoiselle.</p> + +<blockquote><p><span class="smcap">Dear +Sir</span>,—Miss <span class="smcap">Smith</span> am going away to +Londres. A telegram come for her, and I look over the shoulder. It say, +'Poor <span class="smcap">Tommy's</span> kicked! Come at once,' +Miss <span class="smcap">Smith</span> make the tears.</p> + +<p> +Yours,<br /> +<span class="smcap">Lucia Donnerwetter</span>. +</p></blockquote> + + +<p>I must be off to London and get this matter +traced. <span class="smcap">James</span> entreats me to buy a new hat +when I am away. He says it's bringing disgrace on the hotel, and keeping +away custom. What! Give up the hat which her dear foot has kicked! +Never! But, perhaps, I will have it ironed. The iron has entered into my +soul, and perhaps, it would be doing more good on my hat. Yes, I will +have it ironed. It does look a little limp. Ironed or +starched—what matter, when my darling is gone, and left me with no +information as to her income?</p> + +<p>(<i>To be concluded in Two more Chapters.</i>)</p> + +<hr class='half' /> + +<h2>"Venice Preserved" in The Haymarket.</h2> + +<p>No—not <span class="smcap">Otway's</span> tragedy, and not +under Mr. <span class="smcap">Beerbohm Tree's</span> management, but at +the Gallery next door to the Theatre, and under the superintendence of +Mr. <span class="smcap">McLean</span>, you will find not only Venice, +but Florence, Prague, Heidelberg, Capri, Augsburg, Nuremburg, +Innsbrück, and a good many other picturesque places, preserved in +about a hundred water-colour drawings, by Mr. <span class="smcap">Edward +H. Bearne</span>. If there were not so many rivers and lagoons in the +exhibition, it might be called the "Bearnese Oberland." These pictures +are well painted, and, during the gruesome weather, a tiny tour round +this sunny gallery is mighty refreshing.</p> + +<hr class='short' /> + +<blockquote><p><span class="smcap">Study for the Pelican +Club.</span>—The "Logic and Principles of +Mill."</p></blockquote> + +<hr /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[Pg +54]</a></span></p> + +<div> +<a href='images/i-054.png'> +<img class='center' src="images/i-054th.png" width="600" height="388" +alt="" title="" /></a> + +<h3>HAPPY THOUGHT.</h3> + +<p><span class="smcap">Our Artist, finding he cannot exterminate the +Street Musicians, and unwilling to be exterminated by them, has hit upon +a Plan for Hardening himself—with the happiest results. Just One +Week of the discipline represented above has made him absolutely +Invulnerable—he thinks, for Life!</span></p> +</div> + +<hr class='half' /> + +<h2>"BRITONS NEVER WILL BE SLAVES!"</h2> + +<p class='center'>(<i>A Scene from a Domestic Comedy.</i>)</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Bob Bull</span> was the wife of a British +Workman, and she got up at four o'clock in the morning.</p> + +<p>"Must rise early," she said, "to see that my man has his +breakfast."</p> + +<p>So she lighted the fire, and put the kettle on to boil, and laid the +cloth, and swept out the rooms. Then down +came <span class="smcap">Bob</span> rather in a bad humour, because he +had been late over-night at the "Cock and Bottle," detained (as he +explained to his wife) by a discussion about the rights of labour.</p> + +<p>"Of course," said Mrs. <span class="smcap">Bull</span>; "and why +shouldn't you, after a hard day's work, enjoy yourself?"</p> + +<p>But <span class="smcap">Bob</span> contended that he had not enjoyed +himself, although he had undoubtedly expended two shillings and +eight-pence upon refreshment. What <span class="smcap">Bob</span> wanted +to know was, why there was a button off his coat, and why his waistcoat +had not been properly mended.</p> + +<p>"Well, I was busy with the children's things," replied +Mrs. <span class="smcap">Bob</span>; "but I will put all straight when +you have gone to work."</p> + +<p>"Gone to work, indeed!" grumbled <span class="smcap">Bob</span>. +"Yes, it's I that does all the work, and worse luck to it!"</p> + +<p>The moment <span class="smcap">Bob</span> was out of the house, +Mrs. <span class="smcap">Bob</span> got the children up and dressed +them, and gave them their breakfasts and sent them off to school. When +they were gone, she "tidied up" and dressed the baby. Then she did one +of "the bits of washing," that came from a family in whose service she +had been before she married +<span class="smcap">Bob</span>, and that family's connection. And this +occupied her fully, what with soaking, and mangling and ironing, until +it was time to carry <span class="smcap">Bob</span> his dinner. In the +pauses of her work she had been able to cook it, and it was quite ready +to go with her when she was prepared to take it. It was a long walk (in +the rain) to <span class="smcap">Bob's</span> place of work, and it +seemed the longer because she could not leave the baby. But both got +there, and the dinner, without any accident. And then +Mrs. <span class="smcap">Bob</span> hurried back to give the children, +now home from school, <i>their</i> midday meal. And +Mrs. <span class="smcap">Bob</span> had plenty of work to do afterwards. +She had to mend, and to scrub, and to sweep, and to sew. She was not off +her legs for a moment, and had she been a weaker woman, she would have +been thoroughly done up. Then came the children's evening toilette and +the cooking of <span class="smcap">Bob's</span> supper. Her lord and +master entered in due course, and she helped him off with his coat, and +(when he had finished his food) lighted his pipe for him.</p> + +<p>"Mended my clothes?" asked <span class="smcap">Bob</span>.</p> + +<p>"Of course I have."</p> + +<p>"And washed my linen, and druv nails into my boots, and baked the +bread, and pickled the walnuts, and all the rest of it?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, <span class="smcap">Bob</span>, I have done them +all—every one of them."</p> + +<p>This put <span class="smcap">Bob</span> into a better temper, and he +took out an evening paper, and began to read it.</p> + +<p>"I say," said he; "what do you think! They have got white slaves in +Turkey!"</p> + +<p>"You don't say so, <span class="smcap">Bob</span>!" replied +Mrs. <span class="smcap">Bob</span>, lost in amazement. Then she said as +she paused tidying up the room, "Ah! they wouldn't allow anything +of <i>that</i> sort in England!—would they, +<span class="smcap">Bob</span>?"</p> + +<p>And <span class="smcap">Bob</span>, smoking his pipe, and sprawling +before the fire, agreed with her!</p> + +<hr class='half' /> + +<h2>The Riviera in Bond Street.</h2> + +<p>Why take a long journey and spend a lot of money, when the Riviera is +within a shilling cab-fare? Why not apply at 148, New Bond Street, and +obtain one of the Fine Art Society's "excursion +<i>coupons</i>," and get yourself personally conducted by Mr. <span class="smcap">John +Fulleylove</span> to Nice, Monte Carlo, Genoa, and all sorts of delightful +places? Take <i>Mr. Punch's</i> advice, and go there at once! And, +when you have exhausted the Riviera, you have another treat +in a series of well-nigh seventy drawings of Cambridge. These +are skilfully limned, with scrupulous architectural accuracy and +charming pictorial effect, and will give great delight to Cantabrians, +old and young. They are worthy to take their place beside the +excellent series of pictures of Oxford which Mr. <span class="smcap">Fulleylove</span> +exhibited some time ago.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[Pg +55]</a></span></p> + +<div> +<a href='images/i-055.png'> +<img class='center' src="images/i-055th.png" width="700" height="535" +alt="" title="" /></a> +<h3>THE FOREIGN FOX.</h3> + +<p class='center'>(<i>With apologies to Æsop.</i>)</p> +</div> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[Pg +56]</a></span></p> + + +<hr /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[Pg +57]</a></span></p> + +<h2>OUR BOOKING-OFFICE.</h2> + +<div class='flleft'> +<a href='images/i-057.png'> +<img src="images/i-057th.png" width="500" height="341" alt="" title="" +/></a> +</div> + +<p>"Bring me my books!" said the Baron, not for the first time. But on +this occasion the Baron was a prisoner in bed, and likely to remain so +for many days. Consequently, he required amusement. He had heard of a +book, called <i>Three Men in a Boat</i>, by +Mr. <span class="smcap">Jerome K. Jerome</span>, some of whose +observations, in a collection of papers entitled +<i>Stage-land</i>, had caused him to laugh several times, and to smile +frequently, for the subject has not been so well touched since <span class="smcap">Gilbert +Abbott à Beckett</span> wrote his inimitable <i>Quizziology of the Drama</i>, +which for genuine drollery has never been surpassed. Anticipating, +then, some side-splitters from <i>Three Men in a Boat</i>, the Baron sent +for the work. He opened it with a chuckle, which, instead of developing +itself into a guffaw and then into a fit of uncontrollable laughter, +gradually subsided altogether, his smile vanished, and an expression +of weariness came over the Baron's face, as after heroically plodding +through five chapters he laid the book down, and sighed aloud, +"Well, I'm hanged if I see where the fun of this is." The +Baron may be wrong, and the humour of this book, which seems to +him to consist in weak imitations of American fun, and in conversations +garnished with such phrases as "bally idiot," "bally +tent," "doing a mouch," "boss the job," "put a pipe in his +mouth, and spread himself over a chair," "land him with a frying-pan," +"fat-headed chunk," "who the thunder" and so forth—a style +the Baron believes to have been introduced from Yankee-land, and +patented here by the <i>Sporting Times</i> and its imitators,—interspersed +with plentiful allusions to whiskey-drinking, may not be, as it is not, +to his particular taste; and yet, for all that, it may be marvellously +funny. So the Baron requested an admirer of this book to pick out the +gems, and read them aloud to him. But even the admirer was compelled +to own that the gems did not sparkle so brilliantly as he had +at first thought. "Yet," observed the admirer, "it has had a big +sale." "<i>Three Men in a Boat</i> ought to have," quoth the Baron, +cheerily, and then he called aloud, "Bring me <i>Pickwick</i>!" He commenced +at the Review, and the first meeting of <i>Mr. Pickwick</i> with +the Wardle family. Within five minutes the Baron was shaking +with spasmodic laughter, and <span class="smcap">Charles Dickens's</span> drollery was as +irresistible as ever. Of course the Baron does not for one moment +mean to be so unfair to the <i>Three Men in a Boat</i> as to institute a +comparison between it and the immortal <i>Pickwick</i>, but he has heard +some young gentlemen, quite of the modern school, who profess +themselves intensely amused by such works as this, and as the two +books by the author of <i>Through Green Glasses</i>, and yet allow that +they could not find anything to laugh at in <i>Pickwick</i>. They did +not object to <i>Pickwick</i>, as ladies very often do, that there is so +much eating and drinking in it. "No," says the Baron, in bed, +"Give me my <i>Pickwick</i>, and, after him, for a soothing and pleasant +companion, give me <span class="smcap">Washington Irving</span>. When I'm in another +sort of humour, bring me <span class="smcap">Thackeray</span>. For rollicking Irish life, give +me <span class="smcap">Lever</span>. But as to youth-about-town life of the present day, +I do not know of any second-class humorist who approaches within +measurable distance of the author of <i>The Pottleton Legacy</i>, in the +past." So far the Baron. And now "The Co." speaks:—</p> + +<p><i>A Tour in a Phaëton</i>, by J. +J. <span class="smcap">Hissey</span>, is an interesting account of a +driving trip through the Eastern Counties. It abounds in hisseytorical +research; we are taken to all kinds of out-of-the-way and picturesque +places, of which the Author gives us graphic pictures with pencil as +well as pen. A fresher title to the work might have been devised, as the +present one bears a striking likeness to Mr. +<span class="smcap">Black's</span> <i>Adventures of a Phaëton</i>,—who, by the way, was the first +to render driving tours popular. The volume abounds in poetical +quotations. The authority, however, is seldom given, and inverted +commas are conspicuous by their absence. It can hardly be imagined +that all this poetry is by the writer of the book. In one instance he +quotes a well-known verse by <span class="smcap">Ashby-Sterry</span>, without acknowledgment, +in which, for some inscrutable reason, he has introduced a +rugged final line which effectually mars the harmony of the original +stanza.</p> + +<p>Those who prefer Scotch broth well peppered to Butter-Scotch, should +read <i>Our Journey to the Hebrides</i>, by Mr. and +Mrs. <span class="smcap">Pennell</span>. They seem to have gone out of +the beaten track in their tour, which is pleasant, and their views of +Scotland, though they may cause controversy, are novel, and at the same +time indescribably refreshing. As to the views of Scotland chronicled by +Mr. <span class="smcap">Pennell's</span> clever and facile pencil, they +are full of thought, elaborate detail and wondrous originality. There +are some forty of these, all remarkable for their everlasting variety +and high artistic excellence.</p> + +<p><i>Dr. Hermione</i> (<i>Blackwood</i>) is rather an idyl than a +novel, and would have done better still if it had been cast in the form +of a comedy. The still anonymous author who followed up <i>Zit and +Zoë</i> by <i>Lady Bluebeard</i> possesses the gift, rare among +novelists, of writing sparkling dialogue. The quickly changing scenes in +the last chapter of <i>Dr. Hermione</i>, with its sprightly chatter +would serve the poor player almost as it stands. It is not too late to +think about the comedy. In the meanwhile the novel does very well, and +if he had made his story a book for the play, we should have missed many +dainty descriptions of scenery. Nothing is so good as his description of +the Lake District in Autumn, unless it be his pictures of the +surroundings of the Nile as it</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +Flows through hushed old Egypt and its sands,<br /> +Like some grave mighty thought, threading a dream.<br /> +</div></div> + +<p><i>Some Places of Note in England</i> +(<span class="smcap">Dowdeswells</span>) have been deftly noted by a +notable artist, namely, <span class="smcap">Birket Foster</span>. From +the "places of note," he has evolved some of the most delicate of +harmonies. Whether he gives us a Canterbury <i>cantata</i>, a Richmond +<i>rondo</i>, a Stratford symphony, a Lambeth <i>lied</i>, or a Tilbury <i>toccata</i> +we are equally delighted with his choice of <i>motivo</i> and his brilliancy +of execution. In this volume we have five-and-twenty pictures, +admirably reproduced in the highest style of lithography. Mr. +<span class="smcap">Birket Foster</span> has been before the public for many years—he +appeared, if we mistake not, in the early numbers of the <i>Illustrated +News</i>: his work has been constant, and his pictures countless ever +since, and yet, in the present volume, we find him better than ever.</p> + +<p><i>Sporting Celebrities.</i> The first number of this new monthly +contains two excellent portraits by +M. <span class="smcap">Walery</span>. One is of the Duke of +<span class="smcap">Beaufort</span>, the other of Mr. <span class="smcap">Cholmondeley Pennell</span>. They are +accompanied by crisp well-written biographical notices. The two +portraits are well worth the price charged for the Magazine. A +couple of good photographs for a shilling, cannot be considered dear. +In addition to this, there are twenty pages of letterpress—so altogether +it is a splendid shillingsworth. <span class="smcap">Baron de Book-Worms & Co.</span></p> + +<hr class='half' /> + +<h2>ANSWERS TO CORRESPONDENTS.</h2> + +<p><span class="smcap">Insanitary Dust-bins.</span>—That your +servants should have thrown half a lobster, several potted meat-tins, an +uneatable rabbit-pie, and all the vegetable refuse of your household, +into your dust-bin, and that it should not have been "attended to" for +upwards of two months, is quite sufficient to account for the +intolerable odour of which you and all your neighbours on that side of +the street have had reason to complain; but, as you seem to think +nothing but an epidemic fever, caused by the nuisance, will rouse the +Authorities, you might, by throwing in a pound or two of phosphate of +lime, the same quantity of copper shavings, and a gallon or so of nitric +acid, as you suggest, create such an intolerable stench, that something +would have to be done, and that without delay, to preserve your entire +neighbourhood from a visitation of the plague. Try it, by all means. In +the meantime have a notice, as you propose, put in your kitchen window, +to the effect that a champagne luncheon, and half-a-crown a head, will +be provided for the dustmen if they will only call. Failing this, you +might take the steps you seriously contemplate, with a view to marrying +into the dust-contractor's family. This, perhaps, coupled with a series +of urgent letters to the <i>Times</i>, would be your wisest course. But, +in the present unsatisfactory state of the law, it is difficult to know +how to advise you for the best. Your idea, if the worst comes to the +worst, and you cannot get the Vestry to attend to it, of blowing up your +dust-bin yourself with gunpowder, you might resort to as a last +expedient; but, as you seem to think it might bring down your portico, +and possibly the whole front of your house as well, we should advise you +not to put it into execution till <i>quite</i> assured that your +attempts to get your dust-bin emptied by some less violent means have +all hopelessly failed. Anyhow, try the copper shavings and nitric acid +first. We think you will find, if steadily persevered in, that they +will, coupled, possibly, with some legal proceedings, settle the matter +for you.</p> + +<hr class='half' /> + +<p><span class="smcap">More Glory.</span>—The fall of a fragment +of a chandelier has shed an additional lustre—or a portion of a +lustre—on the <i>Brav' Général</i>.</p> + +<hr class='short' /> + +<blockquote><p><span class="smcap">Quite the First +Bridge.</span>—The Forth +Bridge.</p></blockquote> + +<hr /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[Pg +58]</a></span></p> + +<div> +<a href='images/i-058.png'> +<img class='center' src="images/i-058th.png" width="470" height="600" +alt="" title="" /></a> + +<h3>THE GRAND OLD UNDERGRAD.</h3> + +<p><span class="smcap">Mr. Gladstone's Visit to Oxford.</span>—It +has been stated in several papers that +Mr. <span class="smcap">Gladstone</span> intends to reside at All Souls' +College, Oxford, of which he is an Honorary Fellow, from January 30, +till the meeting of Parliament, on February 11. +Mr. <span class="smcap">Gladstone</span>, who, we believe, is going up +for quiet study, will occupy a set of College rooms.</p> +</div> + +<hr /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[Pg +59]</a></span></p> + +<div> +<a href='images/i-059.png'> +<img class='center' src="images/i-059th.png" width="600" +height="390" alt="" title="" /></a> + +<h3>"ANNALS OF A QUIET PARISH."</h3> + +<p><i>The Vicar's Wife</i> (<i>to Country Tradesman</i>). +"<span class="smcap">Now, Hoskins, after so many years of our Liberal +Patronage, it was really too bad of you to send us such a +Globe—cracked from Top to Bottom——!</span>"</p> + +<p><i>Vicar</i> (<i>calling from the Study-door at end of passage</i>). +"<span class="smcap">My Dear, did you recollect to send for Hoskins +about the Globe you had the little Accident with last week!</span>"</p> +</div> + +<hr class='half' /> + +<h2>AN UNSCIENTIFIC DIALOGUE.</h2> + +<p class='center'>(<i>On a highly Uninteresting Topic.</i>)</p> + +<p><i>First Aspiring Political Economist</i> (<i>picking his way +cautiously</i>). What the Bimetallists maintain is this: that by fixing +an artificial ratio between the relative values of gold and silver, you +somehow (<i>a little vaguely</i>) keep up prices; and so, at +least,—so I fancy,—assist the circulation of capital. At all +events, that is what I take M. <span class="smcap">Emile de +Laveleye</span> to mean. (<i>Tentatively.</i>) You see that, don't +you?</p> + +<p><i>Second Aspiring Political Economist.</i> Not a bit of it. Why, +<span class="smcap">Emile de Laveleye</span> is an ass. (<i>Emphatically.</i>) <span class="smcap">Giffen</span> says so. +And you can't have a higher authority than <span class="smcap">Giffen</span> (<i>clinching the +matter</i>). Why, he's Hon. Assistant Deputy Secretary to the Board +of Commerce; (<i>with animation</i>) in fact, he says that all Bimetallists +are hopeless lunatics, and, in my opinion, he's about right.</p> + +<p><i>Third Aspiring Political Economist.</i> I don't see that at all. +But if you are going to settle the matter by merely quoting names, what +have you got to say to <span class="smcap">Foxwell</span>, the London +Professor? He's a Bimetallist, and no mistake.</p> + +<p><i>Second Aspiring Political Economist.</i> "Got to say?" Why, ask +<span class="smcap">Levin</span> of Cambridge what he thinks of him. <span class="smcap">Levin</span> backs up <span class="smcap">Giffen</span> +in every word he says, and I agree with both of them. How can you +have two standards? (<i>Explicitly.</i>) The thing is preposterous.</p> + +<p><i>First Aspiring Political Economist.</i> It is all very well to lay +down the law in that fashion, but it will not dispose of facts. You may +quote <span class="smcap">Giffen</span>, +or <span class="smcap">Levin</span>, or anyone you like, but they will +not be able to do away with the circumstance, that prices are regulated +by the quantity of money in circulation (<i>with a little +hesitation</i>); at least, that is what I understand the other side to +maintain.</p> + +<p><i>Second Aspiring Political Economist.</i> Sheer nonsense. How does +the quantity of money you possess affect the price you pay for a +commodity? The fact of your having twenty sovereigns in your purse won't +make your butcher charge you an extra halfpenny a pound for a leg of +mutton! That must be clear to any fool!</p> + +<p><i>First Aspiring Political Economist.</i> But you don't understand. +It's numbers that do it. They mean, if thirty millions of people, each +have twenty sovereigns a-piece in their purses (<i>doubtfully</i>), +<i>then</i>, I suppose, the butchers would raise the price of their meat. +At least, that's what I fancy they imply when they talk of an +"artificial currency" raising prices (<i>with some vagueness</i>), or is it +"artificial prices" creating an increased currency. I couldn't <i>quite</i> +follow them in this. But I am sure, whichever of the two views was +expressed by M. <span class="smcap">Emile de Laveleye</span>, that one had, no doubt, a +great deal of sound argument to back it.</p> + +<p><i>Third Aspiring Political Economist.</i> I think you miss the +point. Take an illustration. Say you arrive at a cannibal island with +ten thousand complete sets of evening dress clothes, and that another +ship, just before the arrival of yours, has taken the last +ten-pound-note off the island, how, supposing there was to be a native +rush to obtain one of your suits, would the absence of any money to pay +for them affect their market value? I mayn't have got it quite +correctly, but this, or something like it, is one of the cases that +<span class="smcap">Giffen</span> brings forward to prove his point. The matter, however, +appears to me to be a little complicated.</p> + +<p><i>Second Aspiring Political Economist.</i> Not in the least. It +proves the humbug of the Bimetallic position up to the hilt. Of course, +you must assume, that the cannibals desire to dress in evening clothes. +I confess that has to be considered, and then the question lies in a +nutshell. There can't be two opinions about it.</p> + +<p><i>First Aspiring Political Economist.</i> Well, to me, though, of +course, I am willing to admit there <i>may</i> be something in it, I +can't say that the matter is, at first sight, convincingly clear. +(<i>Candidly.</i>) My chief difficulty is, I confess, to arrive at any +definite conclusion with myself, as to what "Bimetallism" really means, +and what it does not; and I own I feel still vague as to the two +questions of the influence of the quantity of money on prices, or the +price of a commodity on the value of money respectively, and, though I +carefully read all that appears in the daily papers on the subject, I am +compelled to own that I do not seem to be nearer a solution of the +perplexing difficulty. However, it is, no doubt, a highly absorbing, if +not a very useful, subject for investigation.</p> + +<p class='ralign'>[<i>Left investigating it as Curtain falls.</i></p> + +<hr /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[Pg +60]</a></span></p> + +<div class='flleft'> +<a href='images/i-060.png'> +<img src="images/i-060th.png" width="300" height="400" alt="" title="" /> +</a> +</div> + +<h2>MR. PUNCH'S MORAL MUSIC-HALL DRAMAS.</h2> + +<p class='center'>No. IV.</p> + +<p>Our present example is pure tragedy of the most ambitious kind, and +is, perhaps, a little in advance of the taste of a Music-hall audience +of the present day. When the fusion between the Theatres and the +Music-Halls is complete—when Miss <span class="smcap">Bessie +Bellwood</span> sings "<i>What Cheer, 'Ria?</i>" at the Lyceum, and +Mr. <span class="smcap">Henry Irving</span> gives his compressed version +of <i>Hamlet</i> at the Trocadero; when there is a general levelling-up +of culture, and removal of prejudice—then, and not till then, will +this powerful little play meet with the appreciation which is its due. +The main idea is suggested by the +Misses <span class="smcap">Taylor's</span> well-known poem, <i>The +Pin</i>, though the dramatist has gone further than the poetess in +working out the notion of Nemesis.</p> + +<h3 class='clear'>THE FATAL PIN.—<span class="smcap"><small>A Tragedy.</small></span></h3> + +<p class='center smcap'>Dramatis Personæ.</p> + +<p><i>Emily Heedless.</i> By either Miss <span class="smcap">Vesta +Tilley</span> or Mrs. <span class="smcap">Bernard Beere</span>.</p> + +<p><i>Peter Paragon.</i> Mr. <span class="smcap">Forbes Robertson</span> +or Mr. <span class="smcap">Arthur Roberts</span> (only he mustn't sing +"<i>The Good Young Man who Died</i>").</p> + +<p><i>First and Second Bridesmaids.</i> Miss <span class="smcap">Maude +Millett</span> and Miss +<span class="smcap">Annie Hughes</span>.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Scene.—Emily's</span> <i>Boudoir, +sumptuously furnished with a screen and sofa,</i> <span class="smcap +lower">C.</span> <i>Door,</i> <span class="smcap lower">R.</span>, +<i>leading to</i> <span class="smcap">Emily's</span> <i>Bed-chamber. +Door,</i> <span class="smcap +lower">L.</span> <span class="smcap">Emily</span> <i>discovered in loose +wrapper, and reclining in uncomfortable position on sofa.</i></p> + +<p><i>Emily</i> (<i>dreamily</i>). This day do I become the envied bride +of <span class="smcap">Peter</span>, justly surnamed +<span class="smcap">Paragon</span>; and much I wonder what in me he +found (he, who Perfection so personifies) that he could condescend an +eye to cast on faulty, feather-headed +<span class="smcap">Emily</span>! How solemn is the stillness all around +me! (<i>A loud bang is heard behind screen.</i>) Methought I heard the +dropping of a pin!—perhaps I should arise and search for it.... +Yet why, on second thoughts, disturb myself, since I am, by my +settlements, to have a handsome sum allowed for pin-money? Nay, since +thou claim'st thy freedom, little pin, I lack the heart to keep thee +prisoner. Go, then, and join the great majority of fallen, vagrant, +unregarded pinhood—my bliss is too supreme at such an hour to heed +such infidelities as thine.</p> + +<p class='ralign'>[<i>Falls into a happy reverie.</i></p> + +<blockquote><p><i>Enter</i> First and Second +Bridesmaids.</p></blockquote> + +<p><i>First and Second Bridesmaids.</i> What, how +now, <span class="smcap">Emily</span>—not yet attired? Nay, haste, +for <span class="smcap">Peter</span> will be here anon!</p> + +<p class='ralign'>[<i>They hurry her off +by</i> <span class="smcap lower">R.</span> <i>door, just +as</i> <span class="smcap">Peter +Paragon</span> <i>enters</i> <span class="smcap lower">L.</span> <i>in +bridal array. N.B.—The exigences of the Drama are responsible for +his making his appearance here, instead of waiting, as is more usual, at +the church.</i></p> + +<p><i>Peter</i> (<i>meditatively</i>). The golden sands of my celibacy +are running low—soon falls the final grain! Yet, even now, the +glass I would not turn. My <span class="smcap">Emily</span> is not +without her faults—"<i>was</i> not without them," I should rather +say, for during ten idyllic years of courtship, by precept and example I +have striven to mould her to a helpmate fit for me. Now, thank the Gods, +my labours are complete—she stands redeemed from all her +giddiness! (<i>Here he steps upon the pin, and utters an +exclamation</i>). Ha! what is this? I'm wounded ... agony! With what a +darting pain my foot's transfixed! I'll summon help (<i>with calm +courage</i>)—yet, stay, I would not dim this nuptial day by any +sombre cloud. I'll bear this stroke alone—and now to probe the +full extent of my calamity. (<i>Seats himself on sofa in such a position +as to be concealed by the screen from all but the audience, and proceeds +to remove his boot.</i>) Ye powers of Perfidy, it is a pin! I must know +more of this—for it is meet such criminal neglect should be +exposed. Severe shall be that house-maid's punishment who's proved to be +responsible for this!—but soft, I hear a step.</p> + +<p class='ralign' style='margin:1% 5%;'>[<i>Enter</i> First <i>and</i> +Second Bridesmaids, <i>who hunt diligently upon the carpet without +observing</i> <span class="smcap">Peter</span>'s <i>presence.</i></p> + +<p><i>Emily's Voice</i> (<i>within</i>). Oh, search, I pray you. +It <i>must</i> be there—my own ears heard it fall!</p> + +<p class='ralign'>[<span class="smcap">Peter</span> <i>betrays growing uneasiness.</i></p> + +<p><i>The Bridesmaids.</i> Indeed, we fail to see it anywhere!</p> + +<p><i>Emily</i> (<i>entering distractedly in bridal costume, with a +large rent in her train</i>). You have no eyes, I tell you, let me help. +It must be found, or I am all undone! In vain my cushion I have cut in +two—'twas void of all but stuffing.... Gracious Heavens, to think +that all my future bliss depends on the evasive malice of a pin!</p> + +<p class='ralign'>[<span class="smcap">Peter</span> <i>behind screen, +starts violently.</i></p> + +<p><i>Peter</i> (<i>aside</i>). A pin! what dire misgivings wring my +heart! (<i>Hops forward with a cold dignity, holding one foot in his +hand.</i>) You seem in some +excitement, <span class="smcap">Emily</span>?</p> + +<p><i>Emily</i> +(<i>wildly</i>). <i>You</i>, <span class="smcap">Peter</span>!... tell +me—have you found a pin?</p> + +<p><i>Peter</i> (<i>with deadly calm</i>). Unhappy +girl—I <i>have</i>! (<i>To</i> Bridesmaids.) Withdraw awhile, and +when we need you, we will summon you. (<i>Exeunt</i> +Bridesmaids; <span +class="smcap">Emily</span> <i>and</i> <span +class="smcap">Peter</span> <i>stand facing each other for some moments +in dead silence.</i>) The pin is found—for I have trodden on it, +and may, for aught I know, be lamed for life. +Speak, <span class="smcap">Emily</span>, what is that maid's desert +whose carelessness has led to this mishap?</p> + +<p><i>Emily</i> (<i>in the desperate hope of shielding herself</i>). +Why, should the fault be traced to any maid, instant dismissal shall be +her reward, with a month's wages paid in lieu of notice!</p> + +<p><i>Peter</i> (<i>with a passionless severity</i>). From your own lips +I judge you, <span class="smcap">Emily</span>. Did they not own just now +that you had heard the falling of a pin—yet heeded not? Behold the +outcome of your negligence!</p> + +<p class='ralign'>[<i>Extends his injured foot.</i></p> + +<p><i>Emily.</i> Oh, let me kiss the place and make it well!</p> + +<p><i>Peter</i> (<i>coldly withdrawing foot</i>). Keep your caresses +till I ask for them. My wound goes deeper than you wot of yet, and by +that disregarded pin is pricked the iridescent bubble of Illusion!</p> + +<p><i>Emily</i> (<i>slowly</i>). Indeed, I do not wholly comprehend.</p> + +<p><i>Peter.</i> Have patience and I will be plainer yet. Mine is a +complex nature, <span class="smcap">Emily</span>; magnanimous, but still +methodical. An injury I freely can forgive, forget it—(<i>striking +his chest</i>)—never! She who leaves about pins on the floor to +pierce a lover's foot, will surely plant a thorn within the side of him +whose fate it is to be her husband!</p> + +<p><i>Emily</i> (<i>dragging herself towards him on her knees</i>). Have +pity on me, <span class="smcap">Peter</span>; I was mad!</p> + +<p><i>Peter</i> (<i>with emotion</i>). How can I choose but pity thee, +poor soul, who, for the sake of temporary ease, hast forfeited the bliss +that had been thine! You could not stoop to pick a pin up. Why? Because, +forsooth, 'twas but a paltry pin! Yet, duly husbanded, that self-same +pin had served you to secure your gaping train, your +self-respect—and Me.</p> + +<p><i>Emily</i> (<i>wailing</i>). What have I done?</p> + +<p><i>Peter.</i> I will not now reproach +you, <span class="smcap">Emily</span>, nor would I dwell upon my wounded +sole, the pain of which increases momently. I part from you in +friendship, and in proof, that fated instrument I leave with you +(<i>presenting her with the pin, which she accepts mechanically</i>) +which the frail link between us twain has severed. I can dispense with +it, for in my cuff (<i>shows her his coat-cuff, in which a row of +pins'-heads is perceptible</i>) I carry others 'gainst a time of need. +My poor success in life I trace to this—that never yet I passed a +pin unheeded.</p> + +<p><i>Emily.</i> And is that all you have to say to me?</p> + +<p><i>Peter.</i> I think so—save that I shall wish you well, and +pray that henceforth you may bear in mind what vast importance lies in +seeming trifles.</p> + +<p><i>Emily</i> (<i>with a pale +smile</i>). <span class="smcap">Peter</span>, your lesson is already +learned, for precious has this pin become for me, since by its aid I +gain oblivion—thus!</p> + +<p class='ralign'>[<i>Stabs herself.</i></p> + +<p><i>Peter</i> (<i>coldly</i>). Nay, these are +histrionics, <span class="smcap">Emily</span>.</p> + +<p class='ralign'>[<i>Assists her to sofa.</i></p> + +<p><i>Emily.</i> I'd skill enough to find a vital spot. Do not withdraw +it yet—my time is short, and I have much to say before I die. +(<i>Faintly.</i>) Be gentle with my rabbits when I'm gone; give my +canary chickweed now and then.... I think there is no more—ah, one +last word—(<i>warmly</i>)—warn them they must not cut our +wedding-cake, and then the pastrycook may take it back!</p> + +<p><i>Peter</i> (<i>deeply moved</i>). Would you had shown this +thoughtfulness before!</p> + +<p class='ralign'>[<i>Kneels by the sofa.</i></p> + +<p><i>Emily.</i> 'Tis now too late, and clearly do I see that I was +never worthy of you, <span class="smcap">Peter</span>.</p> + +<p><i>Peter</i> (<i>gently</i>). 'Tis not for me to contradict you now. +You did your best to be so, <span class="smcap">Emily</span>!</p> + +<p><i>Emily.</i> A blessing on you for those generous words! Now tell +me, <span class="smcap">Peter</span>, how is your poor foot?</p> + +<p><i>Peter.</i> The agony decidedly abates, and I can bear a boot +again.</p> + +<p><i>Emily.</i> Then I die happy!... Kiss +me, <span class="smcap">Peter</span> ... ah!</p> + +<p class='ralign'>[<i>Dies.</i></p> + +<p><i>Peter.</i> In peace she passed away. I'm glad of that, although +that peace was purchased by a lie. I shall not bear a boot for many +days! Thus ends our wedding morn, and she, poor child, has paid the +penalty of heedlessness!</p> + +<p class='ralign'>[<i>Curtain falls, whereupon, unless Mr. Punch is +greatly mistaken, there will not be a dry eye in the house.</i></p> + +<hr class='half' /> + +<blockquote><p>NOTICE.—Rejected Communications or Contributions, +whether MS., Printed Matter, Drawings, or Pictures of any description, +will in no case be returned, not even when accompanied by a Stamped and +Addressed Envelope, Cover, or Wrapper. To this rule there will be no +exception.</p></blockquote> + +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<hr class="full" /> +<p>***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI, VOL. 98, FEBRUARY 1, 1890***</p> +<p>******* This file should be named 22051-h.txt or 22051-h.zip *******</p> +<p>This and all associated files of various formats will be found in:<br /> +<a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/2/2/0/5/22051">http://www.gutenberg.org/2/2/0/5/22051</a></p> +<p>Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed.</p> + +<p>Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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