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diff --git a/22486-h/22486-h.htm b/22486-h/22486-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..a9b3d92 --- /dev/null +++ b/22486-h/22486-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,2024 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Transitional//EN" "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-transitional.dtd"> +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml"> +<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. 104, February 25, 1893, by Various</title> +<style type="text/css"> + <!-- + body {margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + p {text-align: justify;} + blockquote {text-align: justify;} + h1,h2,h3,h4,h5,h6 {text-align: center;} + .sc {font-variant: small-caps;} + .center {text-align: center;} + + hr {text-align: center; width: 50%;} + html>body hr {margin-right: 25%; margin-left: 25%; width: 50%;} + hr.full {width: 100%;} + html>body hr.full {margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 0%; width: 100%;} + hr.short {text-align: center; width: 20%;} + html>body hr.short {margin-right: 40%; margin-left: 40%; width: 20%;} + + .note, .footnote {margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-size: 0.9em;} + + span.pagenum + {position: absolute; left: 1%; right: 91%; font-size: 8pt; text-indent: 0;} + + .poem + {margin-left:10%; margin-right:10%; margin-bottom: 1em; text-align: left;} + .poem .stanza {margin: 1em 0em 1em 0em;} + .poem p {margin: 0; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + .poem p.i2 {margin-left: 1em;} + .poem p.i4 {margin-left: 2em;} + .poem p.i6 {margin-left: 3em;} + .poem p.i8 {margin-left: 4em;} + .poem p.i10 {margin-left: 5em;} + + .drama {margin-bottom: 1em; text-align: left;} + .drama p {margin: 1em 0em 0em 0em;; padding-left: 2em; text-indent: -2em;} + .drama p.i2 {margin: 0; margin-left: 1em;} + .drama p.i4 {margin: 0; margin-left: 2em;} + .drama p.i6 {margin: 0; margin-left: 3em;} + .drama p.i8 {margin: 0; margin-left: 4em;} + .drama p.i10 {margin: 0; margin-left: 5em;} + + .figure, .figcenter, .figright, .figleft + {padding: 1em; margin: 0; text-align: center; font-size: 0.8em;} + .figure img, .figcenter img, .figright img, .figleft img + {border: none;} + .figure p, .figcenter p, .figright p, .figleft p + {margin: 0; text-indent: 1em;} + .figcenter {margin: auto;} + .figright {float: right;} + .figleft {float: left;} + + p.author {text-align: right;} + hr.pg { width: 100%; + margin-top: 0em; + margin-bottom: 0em; + border: solid black; + height: 5px; } + pre {font-size: 85%; } + --> + </style> +</head> +<body> +<h1>The Project Gutenberg eBook, Punch, or the London Charivari, Vol. 104, +February 25, 1893, 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. 104, February 25, 1893</p> +<p>Author: Various</p> +<p>Editor: Francis Burnand</p> +<p>Release Date: September 1, 2007 [eBook #22486]</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. 104, FEBRUARY 25, 1893***</p> +<p> </p> +<h3>E-text prepared by Matt Whittaker, Juliet Sutherland,<br /> + and the Project Gutenberg Online Distributed Proofreading Team<br /> + (http://www.pgdp.net)</h3> +<p> </p> +<hr class="pg" /> +<p> </p> + +<h1>PUNCH,<br /> + +OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.</h1> + +<h2>VOL. 104.</h2> + + +<h2>February 25, 1893.</h2> + + +<hr class="full" /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page85" id="page85"></a>[pg 85]</span> + +<h2>MIXED NOTIONS.</h2> + +<p class="center">No. V.—AGRICULTURAL DEPRESSION.</p> + +<p class="center">(<i>Scene and Persons as usual.</i>)</p> + +<p><i>First Well-informed Man.</i> There hasn't been much in this +debate on the Addresses.</p> + +<p><i>Second W. I. M.</i> Oh. I don't know. They've promised a pretty +big list of measures. How they're going to find time for the lot I +can't make out.</p> + +<p><i>First W. I. M.</i> (<i>contemptuously</i>). Yes, that's always the way +with these Governments. They all talk mighty big at the beginning +of the Session, and then, at the end, they've done nothing, absolutely +nothing; at least, nothing that's any good to anybody. Parliament's +getting to be nothing but a bear-garden. +The House won't be a +fit place for a gentleman to be +seen in soon.</p> + +<p><i>Second W. I. M.</i> (<i>spitefully</i>). +You didn't seem to think it would +be such a bad place for one gentleman, +about eight months ago. +You were after a constituency +yourself, weren't you?</p> + +<p><i>First W. I. M.</i> Well, and +what if I was? I told you at the +time why I thought of standing. +I thought I could do some good, +but I precious soon found they +were a miserable lot, so I made +'em my bow. "Gentlemen," I +said, "you can worry it out among +yourselves, and, when you've +agreed, you can let me know."</p> + +<p><i>Second W. I. M.</i> And they +never did let you know, did they? +Went and elected another Johnny. +Deuced bad taste I call it.</p> + +<p><i>Inquirer</i> (<i>creating a diversion</i>). +Look here, I say, what's all this +talk about Agricultural Depression? +What does it mean?</p> + +<p><i>First W. I. M.</i> What does it +mean! Why, my dear chap, I +should have thought that any +schoolboy knew that our agriculture +is being simply ruined. If +things go on like this, we shan't +have a farmer left. They're all +on the verge of bankruptcy.</p> + +<p><i>Inquirer</i> (<i>doggedly</i>). I daresay +you're right; but, anyhow, I +know, when I was at Chilborough, +the other day, I saw a lot of +farmers about, and they looked +pretty fat and comfortable. That's +why I can't make out what it all +means.</p> + +<p><i>First W. I. M.</i> (<i>resignedly</i>). +Well, I suppose I must explain +it all, from the very beginning. +The first point is, we've got Free +Trade, and the farmers want +Protection; and old <span class="sc">Gladstone</span> +and all the rest of them say they're +not to have it. Well, that isn't +likely to put the farmers in a good +temper, is it? Then, of course, +the Americans, and the Russians, and the Indians see their chance, +and they send ship-loads of food into this country, and the taxes +have to be paid all the same by our farmers.</p> + +<p><i>Second W. I. M.</i> (<i>interrupting</i>). What taxes?</p> + +<p><i>First W. I. M.</i> (<i>flustered</i>). I wish you wouldn't break in just as +I'm trying to make things clear. Why, the taxes on food, of +course.</p> + +<p><i>Second W. I. M.</i> There aren't any taxes on food.</p> + +<p><i>First W. I. M.</i> Oh, indeed! Well, then, how do you explain +Free Trade, and rent, and all that?</p> + +<p><i>Second W. I. M.</i> Now you're getting a bit nearer. It's all a +question of rent. Free Trade's got absolutely nothing to do with it. +What we want in this country is a Sliding-scale.</p> + +<p><i>Inquirer.</i> What's a Sliding-scale?</p> + +<p><i>Second W. I. M.</i> (<i>taken between wind and water</i>). A Sliding-scale? +Let me see—it's very difficult to put these things shortly. +A Sliding-scale is a——well, it's a sort of patent mechanical contrivance +for weighing out things, so as to make it fairer than +ordinary scales do. (<i>Plunges recklessly.</i>) You can make it slide up +or down, you know, and fix it at any point you like.</p> + +<p><i>Inquirer.</i> Really! What a rum-looking thing it must be. Have +you ever seen one?</p> + +<p><i>Second W. I. M.</i> Oh yes. They've got two or three in every big +town.</p> + +<p><i>Average Man.</i> When did you last see it?</p> + +<p><i>Second W. I. M.</i> (<i>suspiciously</i>). Oh, I haven't seen one for some +time. It <i>may</i> perhaps be a <i>little</i> different now.</p> + +<p><i>Average Man.</i> Ah! [<i>A pause.</i></p> + +<p><i>Inquirer.</i> I see the Government's going to have an inquiry about +Agricultural Distress. How are they going to work it?</p> + +<p><i>First W. I. M.</i> Royal Commission, of course.</p> + +<p><i>Second W. I. M.</i> No, no. It's going to be a Select Committee.</p> + +<p><i>First W. I. M.</i> Well, what is +the difference?</p> + +<p><i>Second W. I. M.</i> Surely <i>you</i> +know that. They only have Royal +Commissions for labour and that +sort of thing. Committees don't +get any pay, you know.</p> + +<p><i>Inquirer.</i> Of course. I ought +to have remembered that. But +who's this Lord <span class="sc">Winchilsea +and Nottingham</span>, who's cutting +about the country, talking about +agriculture! What does he know +about it? I don't seem to recollect +his name.</p> + +<p><i>First W. I. M.</i> He's a Peer.</p> + +<p><i>Inquirer.</i> Yes, I know that; +but why do they call him Lord +<span class="sc">Winchilsea</span> <i>and</i> <span class="sc">Nottingham</span>?</p> + +<p><i>Average Man.</i> Because that's +his name. [<i>A pause.</i></p> + +<p><i>Inquirer</i> (<i>resuming</i>). But what +is he driving at?</p> + +<p><i>First W. I. M.</i> He's got hold +of the right end of the stick. +It's just this way. (<i>To</i> Inquirer, +<i>who winces under the imputation</i>.) +You're a foreign country, and I'm +a British farmer. Well, you grow +your corn for nothing, and then +you chuck it into my markets. +Well, what I want to know is, +where do I come in? You may +call that Free Trade, if you like—I +call it ruin. The result is, +I'm smashed up, and the whole +country goes to the devil!</p> + +<p><i>Second W. I. M.</i> But you +ought to consider the consumer.</p> + +<p><i>First W. I. M.</i> What do you +mean by the consumer?</p> + +<p><i>Second W. I. M</i>. Why, myself, +for instance. I get the benefit +of it.</p> + +<p><i>First W. I. M.</i> Ah, you may +<i>think</i> you do, but you don't +really. In the end you've all to +pay more for everything.</p> + +<p><i>Average Man.</i> Well, I'm pretty +happy as things are.</p> + +<p><i>First W. I. M.</i> Oh, of course—and +you'd let the land go +out of cultivation. That's mere +selfishness.</p> + +<p><i>Inquirer.</i> How's that? Can't they work the land now?</p> + +<p><i>First W. I. M.</i> What a question! Of course they can't.</p> + +<p><i>Inquirer</i> (<i>anxiously</i>). But I've seen 'em ploughing a bit lately.</p> + +<p><i>First W. I. M.</i> My dear Sir, they do it just to occupy time—they +must do something.</p> + +<p><i>Inquirer.</i> Of course—of course. [<i>Terminus.</i></p> + +<hr /> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width:35%;"><a href="images/085.png"><img width="100%" src="images/085.png" alt="" /></a><h3>THE RESOURCES OF CIVILISATION.</h3> + +<p><i>M.P.</i> (<i>apostrophising ruined hat</i>). "<span class="sc">Very well, then, next time +there's going to be a Rush, I'll bring a Japanned Tin Hat +charged with Electricity—then let him Sit on it!!</span>"</p></div> + +<hr /> + +<p>Our amiable old friend, Mrs. R., came across a book entitled +<i>Playthings and Parodies</i>, by <span class="sc">Barry Pain</span>. "Oh, I <i>must</i> buy +<i>that</i>!" she exclaimed. "I've seen him so often in the Pantomime +at Drury Lane! And fancy his being an Author, too! But I +don't so much wonder at it, because I remember that, when I was +a little girl, there was a celebrated Shakspearian Clown at Astley's +called <span class="sc">Barry</span>, and he sailed in a tub drawn by geese down the +Thames, and there was a wonderful Pantomime actor of the name +of <span class="sc">Pain</span>. And now this talented gentleman turns out to be an +Author as well!!"</p> + +<hr /> + +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page86" id="page86"></a>[pg 86]</span><div class="figcenter" style="width:60%;"><a href="images/086.png"><img width="100%" src="images/086.png" alt="" /></a><h3>"RETURN OF "GRANDOLPH" THE WANDERER! "BE IT EVER SO HUMBLE, THERE'S NO PLACE LIKE HOME!"</h3></div> + +<hr /> + +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page87" id="page87"></a>[pg 87]</span><div class="figcenter" style="width:35%;"><a href="images/087.png"><img width="100%" src="images/087.png" alt="" /></a><h3>THE EVIDENCE OF WEALTH.</h3> + +"<p><span class="sc">And who lives in the Big House opposite?"</span></p> + +<p><span class="sc">"Mr. Flinders, Sir,—and Mrs. Flinders,—the old Veterinary +Surgeon and his Wife."</span></p> + +<p><span class="sc">"They must be pretty well off, I should think, to live in +a House like that?"</span></p> + +<p><span class="sc">"Oh yes, Sir, very Rich indeed. Why, they 'ad a Golden +Wedding there, the Week before last!"</span></p></div> + +<hr /> + +<h2>FINALITY.</h2> + +<blockquote><p>["He was one of those who believed +that, even in the ordinary legislation +of the House, and still more in a +measure of such complexity, it was +the utmost folly to talk of finality!"—<i>Mr. +J. Redmond the Home-Rule +Bill.</i>]</p></blockquote> + +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<p>Are our sage legislators, then, set upon finding</p> +<p>A measure that's "final, conclusive, and binding,"</p> +<p>As lawyer-phrase puts it? They might as well try</p> +<p>To fix dawn in the East, or nail clouds to the sky!</p> +<p>There's nothing that's "final" in infinite time,</p> +<p>That great, goalless, measureless race-course sublime?</p> +<p>In which relays of runners must keep up the race?</p> +<p>There's nothing "conclusive" in limitless space;</p> +<p>And "binding" man's soul to his best of to-day</p> +<p>For the future of growth, in an absolute way,</p> +<p>Were folly as futile as binding an oak</p> +<p>To the seedling's first prop, or the sapling's first yoke;</p> +<p>For provisional law, not for secular life,</p> +<p>Such phrases are fit. Yet to heal age-long strife</p> +<p>By the very best "betterment" now in our ken,</p> +<p>Till—a better shines forth's the first duty of men.</p> +<p>Do right to the height of our sight's actuality!—</p> +<p>Yes, that is our best—and our only—Finality!</p> +</div></div> + +<hr /> + +<p>An odd Advertisement frequently +catches our eye. It is +"<i>Dr. Gordon Stables's Health +Series</i>." Have the Gordon Stables +anything to do with "the Gordon +Hotels"? If not, why not? as +evidently they could work together +to their mutual benefit.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p><i>A History of Medicine</i>, by Dr. +<span class="sc">Edward Berdoe</span>, is announced as +shortly to appear. It will be illustrated +by a Black (-and-White) +draughtsman.</p> + +<hr /> + +<h3>DESIGNS FOR MI-CARÆME.</h3> + +<p class="center">(<i>To be worn as Costumes at the next +International Fancy-Dress Ball.</i>)</p> + +<p><i>The Emperor W-ll-m.</i>—<span class="sc">Paul +Pry</span> on Tour.</p> + +<p><i>The Czar of R-ss-a.</i>—Protection.</p> + +<p><i>The Sultan of T-rk-y.</i>—Wrecked +in Port.</p> + +<p><i>The Khedive of Eg-y-t.</i>—Young +Hopeful.</p> + +<p><i>The President C-rn-t.</i>—A +Dissolving View.</p> + +<p><i>Prince von B-sm-rck.</i>—The +Shadow of the Past.</p> + +<p><i>Count C-pr-vi.</i>—The Substance +of the Future.</p> + +<p><i>Vicomte de L-ss-ps.</i>—A Lock +on the Suez Canal.</p> + +<p><i>The Pr-m-r.</i>—A Scotch +Mixture of <span class="sc">Homer</span> and Home +Rule.</p> + +<p><i>Sir W-ll-m H-rc-t.</i>—The latest +of the Plantagenets.</p> + +<p><i>Mr. J-hn M-rl-y.</i>—"To +Dublin from <i>Pall Mall</i>."</p> + +<p><i>Lord R-nd-lph Ch-rch-ll.</i>—The +Prodigal Returned.</p> + +<p><i>Mr. Speaker P-l.</i>—The chucker +in.</p> + +<p><i>Mr. L-b-ch-re.</i>—The Spirit of +Te—ruth.</p> + +<p><i>The Marquis of S-l-sb-ry.</i>—The +Irish Emigrant.</p> + +<p><i>Mr. Arth-r B-lf-r.</i>—Golf +surviving Government.</p> + +<p><i>Mr. H-nry Irv-ng.</i>—A Canterbury +Pilgrim.</p> + +<p><i>Miss Ell-n T-rry.</i>—A <span class="sc">Nun</span>, with +none like her.</p> + +<p><i>Mr. J. L. T-le.</i>—A Walker, +Running, London and the Provinces.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>"<span class="sc">I'm Manxious to Know.</span>"—The +Isle of Man, it appears from +Mr. <span class="sc">Spencer Walpole's</span> book, has +thriven on Home Rule. We all +know that Club Land gets on very +well, Club-law being administered +by men only, seeing that men +only are the governing and governed. +But "Home" is the +antithesis of the Club, and +Home Rule, domestically, means +Female sovereignty. In the Isle +of Man-<i>sans</i>-Woman there can +be no Home Rule properly so +called. It must be "<i>Homo Rule</i>."</p> + +<hr /> + +<h3>"HOME, SWEET HOME!"</h3> + +<p class="center">(<i>Latest Parliamentary Version.</i>)</p> + +<p class="center"><i>Returned Wanderer sings</i>:—</p> + +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<p>'Mid gold-fields and lion-haunts though we may roam,</p> +<p>Be it ever so humble, there's no place like home;</p> +<p>A charm from the past seems to hallow us there,</p> +<p>Which, trot round the globe, you will not meet elsewhere.</p> +<p class="i8">Home! Home!</p> +<p class="i8">Sweet, sweet home!</p> +<p>Be it ever so humble, there's no place like home!</p> +</div> <div class="stanza"> +<p>An exile from home freedom dazzles in vain;</p> +<p>Ah! give me my lowly front-bench seat again.</p> +<p>The cheers, sounding sweetly, that come at my call,</p> +<p>Give me these, and old pals of mine, dearer than all.</p> +<p class="i8">Home! Ho-ome!</p> +<p class="i8">Sweet, sweet home!</p> +<p>Be it ever so humble, there's no place like home!</p> +</div> <div class="stanza"> +<p>(<i>Extra or encore verses on his own account.</i>)</p> +</div> <div class="stanza"> +<p>The first seat was mine, but I forfeited <i>that</i>;</p> +<p>Will they welcome the waif, kill the calf that is fat?</p> +<p>Will dear <span class="sc">Arthur</span> rejoice to receive his lost chief?</p> +<p>Will the Wanderer's return bring regret, or relief?</p> +<p class="i8">Home! Ho-ome!</p> +<p class="i8">Sweet, sweet home!</p> +<p>Be it ever so humble (<i>winks</i>) there's no place like home!</p> +</div> <div class="stanza"> +<p>So <i>humble</i>! Oh yes! So seemed David, no doubt,</p> +<p>Till he struck at <span class="sc">Goliath</span> and put him to rout.</p> +<p>My giant—his name, too, begins with a G—</p> +<p>Braves the whole of our hosts. I—no matter—<i>we</i>'ll see.</p> +<p class="i8">Home! Ho-ome!</p> +<p class="i8">Sweet, sweet home!</p> +<p>Be it ever so humble (<i>grins</i>), there's no place like home!</p> +</div></div> + +<hr /> + +<p><span class="sc">Treats for Tommy.</span>—"What shall I do +to amuse our little boy, aged fourteen, when +he returns home for Easter Vacation?" Why, +certainly improve his mind. Procure for him +a free admission to the Geological Society, +and let him hear a paper on "Anthracite +and Bituminous Coal-beds," likewise on +"Inclusions of Tertiary Granite." Take him +to the Linnean Society, and treat him to a +lecture "On the Differentiation of the Protozoan +Body Microscopically Sectionised." +Another evening may be given to "Mosses and +Sphagnums," not to be confounded with +"Moses and Magnums." After this little +course, he may write to say that during +the next vacation he would prefer remaining +at school.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>"I can't drink Champagne," quoth +General <span class="sc">Boozer</span>; "it gives me a red nose." +"No, it won't," replied his medical adviser; +"that is, not if you drink Pommery and +<i>Grey-nose</i>."</p> + +<hr /> + +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page88" id="page88"></a>[pg 88]</span><h2>THE MAN FROM BLANKLEY'S.</h2> + +<p class="center"><span class="sc">A Story in Scenes.</span></p> + +<blockquote><p><span class="sc">Scene VIII.</span>—<i>In the Drawing-room—Time, about 10.</i> Mrs. <span class="sc">Bodfish</span> +<i>and</i> Mrs. <span class="sc">Ditchwater</span> <i>are talking in confidential undertones +on a settee</i>. Miss <span class="sc">Bugle's</span> <i>anxiety concerning her invalid +Cockatoo has already obliged her to depart</i>. Mrs. <span class="sc">Gilwattle</span> +<i>is lecturing her Niece on a couch by the fire, while little</i> +<span class="sc">Gwendolen</span> <i>is in a corner with a Picture-book</i>.</p></blockquote> + +<p><i>Mrs. Bodfish</i> (<i>in a wheezy whisper</i>). If he had condescended to +make himself agreeable all round, I shouldn't say a <i>word</i>; but to +sit there talking to that little forward governess, and never an +audible word from first to last—well, I quite felt for poor dear +Mrs. <span class="sc">Tidmarsh</span> being so neglected at her own table.</p> + +<p><i>Mrs. Ditch.</i> Ah, my dear, if she <i>will</i> have the aristocracy to dine +with her, she must put up with such treatment. I wouldn't stoop +to such presumption myself. And, if I <i>did</i>, I <i>would</i> have a couple +of <i>entrées</i>, and everything +carved <i>off</i> the +table! He'll go away +with such a poor opinion +of us all!</p> + +<p><i>Mrs. Bod.</i> He must +have noticed how the +vegetable dishes were +chipped! And I'm +sure I was ashamed to +see she had put out +those old-fashioned +doyleys with the finger-glasses. +I wonder she +never thought of getting +some new ones. I +saw some the other day +in the Grove, hand-worked, +at only five-pence +three-farthings!</p> + +<p><i>Mrs. Ditch.</i> I could +see <i>something</i> was +weighing on her mind, +or she'd have talked +more to him. What is +his title? It sounded +like "<span class="sc">Stratspoddle</span>." +I must look it out in my +Peerage. Would he be +an Earl now, or what?</p> + +<p><i>Mrs. Bod.</i> I don't +expect he's more than +a Viscount, if so much. +I do think she might +have <i>presented</i> us to +him, though!</p> + +<p><i>Mrs. Ditch.</i> It isn't +the fashion to introduce, +nowadays. But +I consider we are quite +entitled to speak to him, +if we get an opportunity—in +fact, he would +think it very odd if we +didn't! (<i>&c., &c.</i>)</p> + +<p><i>Mrs. Gilwattle.</i> Well, +<span class="sc">Maria</span>, I say, as I said +before, don't let it <i>turn +your head</i>, that's all! +Depend upon it, this +young nobleman isn't +so affable for nothing. +He wouldn't dine with +you like this unless he +expected to get <i>something</i> out of it. What that something may be, +you best know!</p> + +<p><i>Mrs. Tid.</i> (<i>to herself</i>). A guinea, at the very least! (<i>Aloud.</i>) +I'm sorry you think my head's so easily turned, Aunt <span class="sc">Joanna</span>! +If you'd noticed how I behaved to him, you wouldn't say so. Why, +I scarcely <i>spoke</i> to the man!</p> + +<p><i>Mrs. Gilw.</i> I was <i>watching</i> you, <span class="sc">Maria</span>. And sorry I was to see +that being next to a member of the nobility overawed you to that +extent you could hardly open your mouth. So unlike your Uncle +<span class="sc">Gabriel</span>!</p> + +<p><i>Mrs. Tid.</i> (<i>hurt at this injustice</i>). Overawed, indeed! I'm sure it +was no satisfaction to <i>me</i> to see him here! No, Aunt the only people +I welcome at <i>my</i> table are those in my own rank of life—relations +and old friends like you and the others. And how you can think +I was dazzled by a trumpery title when I sent him in with the +Governess——!</p> + +<p><i>Mrs. Gil.</i> Ah, you make too much of that girl, <span class="sc">Maria</span>. I've +noticed it, and <i>others</i> have noticed it. She takes too much upon herself! +The <i>idea</i> of letting her forbid <span class="sc">Gwendolen</span> to recite—no wonder +your authority over the child is weakened! I should have <i>insisted</i> +on obedience.</p> + +<p><i>Mrs. Tid.</i> (<i>roused</i>). I hope I know how to make my own child obey +me. <span class="sc">Gwendolen</span>, come out of that corner. Put down your book. +(<span class="sc">Gwen</span>. <i>obeys</i>.) I wish you to repeat something to your Auntie—what +you refused to say downstairs—<i>you</i> know what I mean!</p> + +<p><i>Gwen.</i> Do you mean the thing Miss <span class="sc">Seaton</span> said I wasn't to, +because you'd be angry?</p> + +<p><i>Mrs. Tid.</i> (<i>majestically</i>). +Miss <span class="sc">Seaton</span> had +no business to know +whether I should be +angry or not. She is +only your Governess—<i>I</i> +am your Mother. And +I shall be extremely +angry if you don't +repeat it at once—in +fact, I shall send you +off to bed. So you can +choose for yourself.</p> + +<p><i>Gwen.</i> I don't want +to go to bed ... I'll +tell, if I may whisper it.</p> + +<p><i>Mrs. Tid.</i> Well, if +you are too shy to speak +out loud, you <i>may</i> +whisper. You see, Aunt, +I am not <i>quite</i> such a +cipher as you fancied!</p> + +<blockquote><p>[<span class="sc">Gwen</span>. <i>puts her mouth +to</i> Mrs. <span class="sc">Gilwattle's</span> +<i>ear, and proceeds +to whisper</i>.</p></blockquote> + +<br /> + +<blockquote><p><span class="sc">Scene IX.</span>—<i>Breakfast-room—Time, +the +same as in the foregoing +Scene.</i> Mr. +<span class="sc">Tidmarsh</span>, <i>after proposing +to "join the +ladies," much to the +relief of</i> Lord <span class="sc">Strathsporran</span>, +<i>has brought +him in here on the +transparent pretext of +showing him a picture</i>.</p></blockquote> + +<p><i>Mr. Tid.</i> (<i>carefully +closing the door</i>). I only +just wanted to tell you +that I don't at all like +the way you've been +going on. It's not my +wish to make complaints, +but there <i>is</i> a +limit!</p> + +<p><i>Lord Strath.</i> (<i>hotly</i>). +There <i>is</i>—you're very +near it now, Sir! (<i>To +himself.</i>) If I quarrel +with this little beggar, +I shan't see <span class="sc">Marjory</span>! +(<i>Controlling his temper.</i>) +Perhaps you'll kindly +let me know what you +complain of?</p> + +<p><i>Mr. Tid.</i> Well, why +couldn't you say you +didn't smoke when my Uncle offered you one of his cigars? You +must have felt me kick you under the table!</p> + +<div class="figright" style="width:45%;"><a href="images/088.png"><img width="100%" src="images/088.png" alt="" /></a><h3>Mrs. Gilwattle rises slowly, bristling with indignation.</h3></div> + +<p><i>Lord. Strath.</i> I did—distinctly. But I gave you credit for its being +accidental. And, if you wish to know, I said I smoked because I +do. I don't see why you should expect me to <i>lie</i> about it!</p> + +<p><i>Mr. Tid.</i> I don't agree with you. I consider you ought to have +had more tact, after the hint I gave you.</p> + +<p><i>Lord Strath.</i> It didn't occur to me that you were trying to kick +<i>tact</i> into me. And, naturally, when I saw your Uncle about to +smoke——</p> + +<p><i>Mr. Tid.</i> That was different, as you might have known. Why, +<i>one</i> cigar is as much as my wife can stand!</p> + +<p><i>Lord Strath.</i> You—er—wouldn't wish her to smoke <i>more</i> than +one, surely?</p> + +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page89" id="page89"></a>[pg 89]</span><p><i>Mr. Tid.</i> (<i>outraged</i>). My wife smoke! Never did such a thing +in her life! She don't allow <i>me</i> to smoke. She wouldn't allow +Mr. <span class="sc">Gilwattle</span> if he wasn't her Uncle. And I can tell you, when +she comes down in the morning, and finds the curtains smelling of +smoke, and hears you were the <i>other</i>, I shall catch it!</p> + +<p><i>Lord Strath.</i> Sorry for you—but if you had only made your kick +a trifle more explanatory——</p> + +<p><i>Mr. Tid.</i> That's not <i>all</i>, Sir. When you saw me and my Uncle +engaged in talking business, what did you cut in for with a cock-and-bull +story about the Boxing Kangaroo being formed into a +Limited Company, and say the Kangaroo was going to join the Board +after allotment? You couldn't really believe the beast was eligible +as a Director—an <i>animal</i>, Sir!</p> + +<p><i>Lord Strath.</i> Why not? They have <i>guinea-pigs</i> on the Board +occasionally, don't they? But of course it was only a joke.</p> + +<p><i>Mr. Tid.</i> You weren't <i>asked</i> to make jokes. My Uncle doesn't +understand 'em—no more do I, Sir!</p> + +<p><i>Lord Strath.</i> No, I gathered that. (<i>Breaking out.</i>) Confound it +all, Sir, what do you mean by this? If you didn't want me, why +couldn't you tell me so? You knew it before <i>I</i> did! I don't understand +your peculiar ideas of hospitality. I've kept my temper as +long as I could; but, dash it all, if you force me to speak out, I +will!</p> + +<p><i>Mr. Tid.</i> (<i>alarmed</i>). No, no, I—I meant no offence—you won't go +and let everything out now! It was a mistake, that's all—and there's +no harm done. You got your <i>dinner</i> all right, didn't you? By the +way, talking of that, can you give me any idea what they'll charge +me for this, eh? What's the <i>regular</i> thing now?</p> + +<p><i>Lord Strath.</i> (<i>to himself</i>). Extraordinary little bounder—wants +me to price his dinner for him! (<i>Aloud.</i>) Couldn't give a guess!</p> + +<p><i>Mr. Tid.</i> Well, considering I sent round and all that, I think they +ought to make <i>some</i> reduction—y'know. But <i>you</i>'ve nothing to do +with that, eh? I'm to settle up with <span class="sc">Blankley's</span>?</p> + +<p><i>Lord Strath.</i> I should say he would prefer your doing so—but it's +really no business of mine, and—er—it's getting rather late——</p> + +<p><i>Mr. Tid.</i> (<i>opening the door</i>). There, we'll go up. And look here, +<i>do</i> try and be a bit stiffer with my Uncle. It's too bad the way he +goes on my-lording you, y'know. You shouldn't encourage him!</p> + +<p><i>Lord Strath.</i> I wasn't aware I <i>did</i>. (<i>To himself.</i>) Trying, this. +But never mind, I shall see <span class="sc">Marjory</span> in another minute!</p> + +<p><i>Mr. Tid.</i> (<i>to himself</i>). The <i>airs</i> these chaps give themselves! Oh, +lor, there's Uncle <span class="sc">Gabriel</span> hooking on to him <i>again</i>. If he only +knew! [<i>He follows them upstairs uneasily.</i></p> + +<br /> + +<blockquote><p><span class="sc">Scene X.</span>—<i>In the Drawing-room</i>; <span class="sc">Gwendolen</span> <i>is still whispering +in</i> Mrs. <span class="sc">Gilwattle's</span> <i>ear</i>.</p></blockquote> + +<p><i>Mrs. Gilw.</i> Eh? You're tickling my ear, child—don't come so +close. Louder. Yes, go on. "Sat next to him at dinner?" <i>Well</i>, +what <i>about</i> him?... <i>What?</i>... What's the child talking about +now?... "A gentleman out of <span class="sc">Blankley's</span> shop"!! "Hired for +the evening"!!! Let her alone, <span class="sc">Maria</span>, <i>I</i> know who's telling the +truth! So <i>this</i> is your precious Nobleman, is it? Oh, the <i>deceit</i> of +it all!</p> + +<blockquote><p>[<i>The door opens, and</i> Uncle <span class="sc">Gabriel</span> <i>enters, clinging affectionately +to</i> Lord <span class="sc">Strathsporran's</span> <i>arm</i>.</p></blockquote> + +<p><i>Uncle Gab.</i> And when I take a fancy to a young fellow, my Lord, +I don't allow any social prejudices to stand in the way. I should say +just the same if you were a mere nobody. We ought to see <i>more</i> of +one another. I should esteem it a distinguished favour if you'd +honour me and my wife by dropping in to a little dinner some +evening; no ceremony; just a few quiet pleasant people like ourselves. +We'll see if we can't fix a day with my wife.</p> + +<blockquote><p>[<i>He steers him across to</i> Mrs. <span class="sc">Gilwattle</span>.</p></blockquote> + +<p><i>Lord Strath.</i> (<i>to himself</i>). Now, how the deuce am I going to get +out of <i>this</i>? And what have they done with <span class="sc">Marjory</span>?</p> + +<p><i>Uncle Gab.</i> <span class="sc">Joanna</span>, my love, I've been telling his Lordship here +how delighted and honoured we should be to see him at dinner +some——</p> + +<blockquote><p>[Mrs. <span class="sc">Gilwattle</span> <i>rises slowly, bristling with indignation, and +glares speechlessly at the unconscious</i> Lord <span class="sc">Strathsporran</span>, +<i>while</i> Mrs. <span class="sc">Tidmarsh</span> <i>vainly attempts to appease her, as her +husband and the other men enter. Tableau.</i></p></blockquote> + +<p class="center"><i>End of Scene X.</i></p> + +<hr /> + +<h2>"At the Window."</h2> + +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<p>In dull days of sensational horrors, and wild would-be humorous hums,</p> +<p>What delight to fly darkness, and watch the "Auld Licht," from "<i>A Window in Thrums</i>"!</p> +<p>Let pessimists potter and pule, and let savages slaughter and harry;</p> +<p>Give me <i>Hendry</i>, and <i>Tammas</i>, and <i>Jess</i>, and a smile, and a tear born of <span class="sc">Barrie</span>.</p> +</div></div> + +<hr /> + +<p>"The French," says Mrs. R., "have been shown up in a very +queer light by all these Panama candles."</p> + +<hr /> + +<h2>THE HOUSE THAT BILL (SYKES) BURGLED.</h2> + +<p class="center">(Namely, that of Messrs. <span class="sc">Walter Cross & Co.</span>, Jewellers, 8, Holywell +Street, Strand, as narrated in the <i>Times</i> of the 16th inst.)</p> + +<div class="figright" style="width:25%;"><a href="images/089.png"><img width="100%" src="images/089.png" alt="" /></a></div> + +<p>This is the House that <span class="sc">Bill</span> burgled.</p> + +<p>This is the window, plastered with brown-paper and treacle, and +then broken, belonging to the House that <span class="sc">Bill</span> +burgled.</p> + +<p>This is the rope-ladder, attached to the window, plastered +with brown-paper and treacle, &c.</p> + +<p>This is the show-case, reached by way of the rope-ladder +attached to the window, plastered with brown-paper +and treacle, &c.</p> + +<p>This is the "burglar-alarm," lately +connected with the show-case, +reached by way of the rope-ladder, +attached to the window, &c.</p> + +<p>This is the bell that belonged to the +"burglar-alarm," lately connected +with the show-case, &c.</p> + +<p>This is the wire that rang the bell, +that belonged to the "burglar-alarm," +lately connected with the +show-case, &c.</p> + +<div class="figleft" style="width:20%;"><a href="images/089b.png"><img width="100%" src="images/089b.png" alt="" /></a></div> + +<p>This is the telephone that communicated +with Bloomsbury, +set in motion by the bell, rung +by the wire, &c.</p> + +<div class="figright" style="width:25%;"><a href="images/089c.png"><img width="100%" src="images/089c.png" alt="" /></a></div> + +<p>This is the dog who barked at the +bell, agitated by the telephone +that communicated with +Bloomsbury, &c.</p> + +<p>This is the man unshaven, unshorn, +aroused from his sleep +in the early morn by the +dog who barked at the +bell, &c.</p> + +<p>These are the "Bobbies," all forlorn, +called on by the man unshaven, +unshorn, aroused from his sleep in +the early morn, by the dog who +barked at the bell, &c.</p> + +<p>And this is the burglar, smiling in +scorn, who escaped by the rope-ladder, +window-sill-borne, and +evaded the Bobbies all forlorn, +called on by the man, unshaven, +unshorn, aroused from his sleep in +the early morn, by the dog who +barked at the bell, agitated by the +telephone, set in motion by the +wire, attached to the burglar-alarm, +connected with the show-case, +reached by way of the rope-ladder, +hooked to the window, plastered +with brown-paper and treacle, +belonging to the House that <span class="sc">Bill</span> +burgled.</p> + +<hr /> + +<h2>SUGGESTIONS FOR RIDE PARK.</h2> + +<p>"Many improvements," the <i>Daily News</i> writes, "in the arrangement +of the Parks in the West End" have been made. Have they? +Perhaps visible to the eye assisted by <i>Mr. Weller's</i> "pair o' +patent double million magnifyin' gas microscopes of hextra power." +But why, for the hundredth time we ask, and every equestrian asks +as well, why aren't rides made across Kensington Gardens from +Princes' Gate to Bayswater? Beautiful rides they would be under +the trees, and thus varying the wearisome monotony of the round +and round squirrel-in-a-cage sort of routine exercise, to which the +Rotten-Row Riders are purgatorially bound. Also, why not a ride +right across Hyde Park from the Achilles Statue to an exit facing +about Albion Street, Bayswater? What difficulties can there be +which a First Commissioner of Works representing an actively Liberal +and Progressive policy could not carry out for the benefit of the +Mounted Liver Brigade and the Light Cavalry?</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>Old Father Thames is still rather dirty. We often hear of "The +Thames Basin." Why doesn't Father Thames use it,—with soap? +What a chance here for a P**rs' advertisement.</p> + +<hr /> + +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page90" id="page90"></a>[pg 90]</span><div class="figcenter" style="width:65%;"><a href="images/090.png"><img width="100%" src="images/090.png" alt="" /></a><h3>FROM THE EMERALD ISLE.</h3> + +<p>"<span class="sc">Just make it a Couple of Shillings, Captain dear!</span>"—"<span class="sc">No!</span>" "<span class="sc">Eighteenpence then, Major!</span>"—"<span class="sc">No!</span>"</p> + +<p>"<span class="sc">Och thin, Colonel darling, just Threppence for a Glass o' Whiskey!</span>"—"<span class="sc"><i>No</i>, I tell you!</span>"</p> + +<p>"<span class="sc">Git out wid ye thin, ye Boa Conshthructor, sure an' I know'd ye all the toime!</span>"</p> + +<blockquote><p>[<i>N.B.</i>—<i>The Fare is the Head of an eminent Firm of Furriers in Kilconan Street, and cultivates a martial appearance</i>.]</p></blockquote></div> + +<hr /> + +<h2>A BIG LION AMONG THE LITTLE 'UNS.</h2> + +<p>"Daniel in the Lions' Den" will occur to many on reading how +<span class="sc">Henry Irving</span> ventured into and actually dined as the distinguished +guest of a society styling itself "The Playgoers' Club." But +after all, whether these were real leonine cubs, or only "lions +stuffed with straw," the Real Lion of the evening was the Daniel +come to Judgment, <span class="sc">Henry Irving</span>, who, having partaken of the +"chicken and champagne," and acknowledged the goodness thereof, +gave them the less smooth side of his own tongue with charming +frankness.</p> + +<p>"I do not hesitate to tell you," purred the Lion, sweetly, "that +there have been times when the genius of frankness which possesses +the Club"—he did not allude to the existence among them of any +other sort of genius—"has not appeared to be allied with the +finest discrimination. (<i>Laughter.</i>)"</p> + +<p>Yes—the poor little Lions laughed—it was all they could do, +unless they had whimpered, and promised not to offend again. +It must have been a delightful evening. To what other banquets +will our leading Histrion be invited? To the Pittites' Club +Dinner? To the Wreckers' Banquet? Will he be entertained +by the Dissentient Gallery-Boys' Club, and finish up with a +supper strictly confined to the upper Circles' Society? Instead of +"Give your orders, Gents—the Waiter's in the room!" of old +days, the Chairman will probably advise the enterprising Playgoers +to "Ask for 'orders,' Gents—the Manager's in the room." However, +if these heaven-born dramatic critics occasionally hear a few +words of good advice from so honest a guest as <span class="sc">Henry Irving</span>, such +gatherings may perhaps serve some useful purpose.</p> + +<hr /> + +<h2>Gladstone's Aside on the Irish Members.</h2> + +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<p>You are, in faith, like women—divil doubt you!—</p> +<p>For "there's no living with you, or without you."</p> +</div></div> + +<hr /> + +<p><span class="sc">Very Bad Drainage</span>.—Because the London School Board built +schools with defective drainage, the London Ratepayers are to be +mulcted in £250,000. A nice drain this on our pockets!</p> + +<hr /> + +<h2>THE POLITE SPEAKER.</h2> + +<p class="center">(<i>Intended for the use of courteous Members of Parliament.</i>)</p> + +<p><i>Question.</i> I trust you quite acknowledge that strong language is +absolutely unnecessary in Westminster?</p> + +<p><i>Answer.</i> Quite, especially when a compensating description can be +found for every suitable term of abuse.</p> + +<p><i>Q.</i> You grasp the idea. How would you describe <span class="sc">Nero</span> fiddling +during the burning of Rome?</p> + +<p><i>A.</i> I should say that he was a musician with a turn for pleasing +variations.</p> + +<p><i>Q.</i> Very good. And how would you speak of <span class="sc">Guy Faux</span> on the +eve of blowing up the House of Commons?</p> + +<p><i>A.</i> An experimentalist who would have been a useful lecturer +upon chemistry at the Royal Institution.</p> + +<p><i>Q.</i> And could you refer to <i>Blue Beard</i> after the discovery of the +cause of his last widowerhood without giving offence?</p> + +<p><i>A.</i> Yes; as a married man who objected on principle to the +Mormon practice of being wedded to more than one wife at a time.</p> + +<p><i>Q.</i> Yes. And what would you say of <span class="sc">Marie de Medicis</span>, who is +reported to have fired at the Huguenots from the Louvre?</p> + +<p><i>A.</i> I should say that her late Majesty took such an interest in +field sports, as nowadays would have secured her election to the +Gun Club.</p> + +<p><i>Q.</i> And, lastly, were you asked to describe <span class="sc">Henry the Eighth</span> +after he had slaughtered most of his wives, plundered all the monasteries, +and imprisoned or executed many of his subjects, what would +you call him?</p> + +<p><i>A.</i> Without hesitation I should refer to him as "an excited +politician."</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>"<span class="sc">Continuous-Sounding Machines</span>."—Lots of 'em on view in +the House of Commons. But, for the genuine article, consult a +"Colomb" of the <i>Times</i>.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>"I love those cradle-songs," said Mrs. R. "The other day I +heard—I forget who it was—sing a most charming <i>alibi</i>."</p> + +<hr /> + +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page91" id="page91"></a>[pg 91]</span><div class="figcenter" style="width:43%;"><a href="images/091.png"><img width="100%" src="images/091.png" alt="" /></a><h3>A LULLABY.</h3> + +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<p><span class="sc">Nurse G.</span> (<i>sings</i>). "'O HUSH THEE, MY BABY,</p> +<p>TAKE REST WHILE YOU MAY'"——</p> +</div> <div class="stanza"> +<p>(<i>To himself.</i>) "AND NOW I MUST GO AND LOOK AFTER THE OTHERS!"</p> +</div></div></div> + +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page92" id="page92"></a>[pg 92]</span> +<hr /> + +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page93" id="page93"></a>[pg 93]</span><div class="figright" style="width:50%;"><a href="images/093.png"><img width="100%" src="images/093.png" alt="" /></a></div> + + +<h2>TO SERAPHINE.</h2> + +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<p>Through happy years, that number now I ween</p> +<p>A dozen, or—to be correct—thirteen,</p> +<p>My comfortable better-half you've been,</p> +<p class="i8">O <span class="sc">Seraphine</span>!</p> +</div> <div class="stanza"> +<p>The ups and downs of life we two have seen—</p> +<p>From Camberwell, of stucco-fronted mien,</p> +<p>To quaintly-decorated Turnham Green,</p> +<p class="i8">O <span class="sc">Seraphine</span>!</p> +</div> <div class="stanza"> +<p>Till Grandma's money came with golden sheen,</p> +<p>You lent a hand at <span class="sc">Sarah's</span> weekly clean,</p> +<p>And did not tilt your nose at margarine,</p> +<p class="i8">O <span class="sc">Seraphine</span>!</p> +</div> <div class="stanza"> +<p>And now that I've been made a Rural Dean,</p> +<p>Your figure is no longer slim, my Queen;</p> +<p>You'd scarcely make a graceful <i>ballerine</i>,</p> +<p class="i8">O <span class="sc">Seraphine</span>!</p> +</div> <div class="stanza"> +<p>But after dinner as you doze each e'en,</p> +<p>From your disjointed mutterings I glean</p> +<p>Your mind is running on a crinoline,</p> +<p class="i8">O <span class="sc">Seraphine</span>!</p> +</div> <div class="stanza"> +<p>Oh, let me not appear to speak with spleen—</p> +<p>Yet pause!—nor go to Madame <span class="sc">Antonine</span></p> +<p>To get yourself a—<i>you know what I mean</i>,</p> +<p class="i8">O <span class="sc">Seraphine</span>!</p> +</div> <div class="stanza"> +<p>For if that huge and hideous machine</p> +<p>Should thrust its bilious bulginess between</p> +<p>A blameless couple, such as we have been,</p> +<p class="i8">My <span class="sc">Seraphine</span>,</p> +</div> <div class="stanza"> +<p>I will not condescend to make a "scene,"</p> +<p>But—if you needs <i>must</i> have your crinoline—</p> +<p>Good-bye!—you cannot have your Rural Dean,</p> +<p class="i8">O <span class="sc">Seraphine</span>!</p> +</div></div> + +<hr /> + +<h2>DER COPHETUALISCHEHOCHZEITVEREIN.</h2> + +<blockquote><p>["In Vienna a Club has been formed among +young men of fashion for the encouragement of +marriage with poor girls."—<i>James Payn, in +"Illustrated News."</i>]</p></blockquote> + +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<p>O youth of Wien, what does this mean?</p> +<p class="i2">Can you forget you are</p> +<p>All <i>hochgeboren</i> as of yore</p> +<p class="i2">Was King <span class="sc">Cophetua</span>?</p> +</div> <div class="stanza"> +<p>To wed a lot of girls <i>sans dot</i></p> +<p class="i2">Is strange, and yet you are</p> +<p>No more afraid of beggar maid</p> +<p class="i2">Than King <span class="sc">Cophetua</span>.</p> +</div> <div class="stanza"> +<p>But if you break the vow you take,</p> +<p class="i2">And dowries get, you are</p> +<p>A thousand pound to forfeit bound,</p> +<p class="i2">Which beats <span class="sc">Cophetua</span>.</p> +</div> <div class="stanza"> +<p>So you by stealth can't marry wealth,</p> +<p class="i2">Not if in debt you are;</p> +<p>But, as we see, resemble the</p> +<p class="i2">Late King <span class="sc">Cophetua</span>.</p> +</div> <div class="stanza"> +<p>O men elsewhere, Mammas declare</p> +<p class="i2">How hard to net you are!</p> +<p>You can't be led poor girls to wed</p> +<p class="i2">Like King <span class="sc">Cophetua</span>.</p> +</div> <div class="stanza"> +<p>Consider, then, these noble men,</p> +<p class="i2">And you'll regret you are</p> +<p>Unmarried still, and quickly will</p> +<p class="i2">Do like <span class="sc">Cophetua</span>!</p> +</div></div> + +<hr /> + +<p><span class="sc">Put a Stop to It</span>!—A Correspondent, +signing himself "<span class="sc">O'Noodle</span>," asks, "What +does this mean? See Cook's <i>Guide-Book to +Paris</i>, page 23:—'Visitors should take the +precautions against pickpockets recommended +by the Administration.'" A comma or a +dash after "precautions," and another +after "pickpockets," or put pickpockets into +brackets—handcuff 'em, in fact—and then +<span class="sc">O'Noodle</span> will get at the sense of the +paragraph.</p> + +<hr /> + +<h2>A DOLE-FUL PROSPECT.</h2> + +<p><i>Easter.</i>—Wonder what the effect of the +<span class="sc">Bishop's</span> appeal to the "loyal laity," to come +down heavily with Easter Offerings to the +Clergy, will be? Rather an exciting day for +me. Hard-up is not the word for my condition +at present. Can't keep myself, and +have to keep a Gardener and a Curate!</p> + +<p>A lot of cast-off clothes arrive from "<span class="sc">A +Sympathetic Parishioner</span>!" How degrading! +Wish <span class="sc">Bishop of Worcester</span> hadn't +said that he knew a Clergyman who stayed +in bed because he had no decent clothes to +wear. Congregation seem to think he meant +<i>me</i>! Two blankets, and a rig-out of "Cellular +under-clothing," from "<span class="sc">Church Defence</span>," +addressed to "Our Beloved but +Impoverished Incumbent." Quite insulting! +Give blankets to Gardener, and send the +Cellular things to Curate, as his tendencies +are distinctly monastic.</p> + +<p>Letter from a Newmarket Bookmaker! +Says he hears I'm in want of Easter Offerings, +so he offers to "put me on to a good thing for +the Derby." I am, apparently, to forward +him a £5 note, and he returns me £50 +"without fail." Tempting, but haven't got +a £5 note to send.</p> + +<p>Arrival at my quiet Vicarage of a donkey, +a cow, two pigs, and a dozen barndoor +fowls! Perhaps, in honour of the pigs, I +might call this a "sow Easter!" The whole +menagerie sent by neighbouring farmers. +Wish they'd send me arrears of rent for +glebe instead; yet I daren't ask for them. +Evidently intended as Easter "gifts in +kind;" but not the kind I want. Send +donkey on to Curate, and tether cow in back-yard, +not having a field. Pigs temporarily +accommodated in back kitchen. Cook +threatens to give notice.</p> + +<p>Church. Offertory goes to <i>me</i> to-day! +Don't half like it. Feel like a schoolboy +expecting to be tipped. Curate rather glum. +Finds he thinks my sending the donkey to +him was meant to insult him. When I assure +him it wasn't, he cheers up, and says he'll +hold the plate. Does so. Seems very heavy. +Curate distinctly winks at me, which is +against the Rubrics, no doubt, but still +seems to be an augury of happy tidings about +the sum collected. On his way to Vestry, +Curate whispers to me "Two-fifty!" What +does he mean? Is it two fifty pounds, or +shillings? It's neither—it's <i>pence</i>! Really, +if this is all the "loyal laity" can do, I may +as well disestablish myself.</p> + +<p>Best Easter Offering of all comes by post. +Offer of position as Under-Cashier in a firm +of eminent Bone-boilers. Write to accept +offer with thanks. Better to boil bones for +other people than to have all the flesh taken +off my own.</p> + +<hr /> + +<h2>THE NEW COINAGE.</h2> + +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<p>Art will now adorn our purses,</p> +<p class="i2">Hitherto an artless place;</p> +<p>More than pictures, songs, or verses,</p> +<p class="i2">This should elevate the race.</p> +</div> <div class="stanza"> +<p>Is it safe to be prophetic?</p> +<p class="i2">Will the miser, once abused,</p> +<p>Be considered quite aesthetic,</p> +<p class="i2">With the connoisseur confused?</p> +</div> <div class="stanza"> +<p>Will the banker, grown artistic,</p> +<p class="i2">Talk a jargon new and strange?</p> +<p>Will this feeling, subtle, mystic,</p> +<p class="i2">Even reach the Stock Exchange?</p> +</div> <div class="stanza"> +<p>Will it from the City banish</p> +<p class="i2">Dress that artists should eschew?</p> +<p>Will the hallowed "topper" vanish,</p> +<p class="i2">And the frock-coat fade from view?</p> +</div> <div class="stanza"> +<p>Will the cabman now be willing,</p> +<p class="i2">After driving half a mile,</p> +<p>To accept a high-art shilling,</p> +<p class="i2">Not with oaths, but with a smile?</p> +</div> <div class="stanza"> +<p>Will the porter at the station</p> +<p class="i2">While his thanks pause on his lip,</p> +<p>Gaze in silent admiration</p> +<p class="i2">At the beauty of his tip?</p> +</div> <div class="stanza"> +<p>"Music hath," so <span class="sc">Congreve</span> stated,</p> +<p class="i2">"Charms to soothe the savage breast";</p> +<p>Numismatic art is fated</p> +<p class="i2">May be to be likewise blest.</p> +</div> </div> + +<hr /> + +<h2>NAILED!</h2> + +<p class="center">(<i>Lord Dufferin and the Gallic Vermin.</i>)</p> + +<blockquote><p>[At the Annual Dinner of the British Chamber +of Commerce in Paris, Lord <span class="sc">Dufferin</span> took +occasion to refer trenchantly, but temperately, to +the long series of calumnies lately directed against +him by certain sections of the French Press.]</p></blockquote> + +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<p>Yes, <span class="sc">Dufferin</span>, yes, the Reptile Press</p> +<p class="i2">Is not confined to realms Teutonic.</p> +<p>You squelch it—could you well do less?—</p> +<p class="i2">With an urbanity fine, ironic.</p> +<p>France is too chivalrous, too polite,</p> +<p class="i2">To back these crawlers, venomous, "varment"!—</p> +<p>But our Ambassador does quite right</p> +<p class="i2">To—brush them lightly from his garment.</p> +</div></div> + +<hr /> + +<h2>A "Plucky" Answer.</h2> + +<p><i>Q.</i> Who was <span class="sc">Procrustes</span>? What was the +Bed of <span class="sc">Procrustes</span>?</p> + +<p><i>A.</i> He was an ancient philosopher who +never would get up in the morning. Hence +the word for a person who puts off or delays; +viz., "One who Procrustinates."</p> + +<hr /> + +<p><span class="sc">The Whittington Record Broken</span>.—"Mr. +<span class="sc">Hurst</span>," <i>The Athenæum</i> gossip informs +us, "has been four times Mayor of Bedford." +He ought to be perfect in the part, for certainly +it has been well <i>re-hearsed</i>.</p> + +<hr /> + +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page94" id="page94"></a>[pg 94]</span><h2>ESSENCE OF PARLIAMENT.</h2> + +<p class="center">EXTRACTED FROM THE DIARY OF TOBY, M.P.</p> + +<p><i>House of Commons, Monday, February 13.</i>—House filled from +floor to topmost range of gallery. Terrible rumour that it is also +peopled underneath. Members sitting on two front benches +evidently restless through opening passages of Mr. G.'s speech. +Weird whispering heard, apparently rising from boots of <span class="sc">First Lord</span> +of the <span class="sc">Treasury</span>. <span class="sc">Grandolph</span> pricks up his ears; fancies he +recognises voice familiar in Harley Street. First thought, whispered +commentary must come from Ladies' Gallery. Right Hon. Gentlemen +look up, and conclude it is too remote. Besides, Ladies <i>never</i> +talk in the Gallery.</p> + +<p>"Moreover than which," said <span class="sc">Fergusson</span>, staring stolidly at +open network of iron floor, "it comes from quite different quarter."</p> + +<div class="figright" style="width:60%;"><a href="images/094.png"><img width="100%" src="images/094.png" alt="" /></a><h3>GENTLEMEN OF THE HOUSE OF COMMONS TAKING THEIR SEATS, MONDAY, FEBRUARY 13, 1893.</h3></div> + +<p>Even Mr. G., absorbed as he was with great topic, evidently +noticed the odd state of things, for towards end of magnificent +speech he dropped his voice right down through the grating into the +chamber below, so that Strangers in distant Gallery lost the purport +of his words. Above-board—or rather above iron grating—House +presented spectacle worthy of occasion. Last time anything like it +seen was in April, 1886, when first Home-Rule Bill introduced. +Singularly like it this afternoon, with chairs blocking the floor +in fashion to which <span class="sc">Lord-Chamberlain</span>, looking down from Peers' +Gallery, admitted he would not permit in any other theatre. Side-galleries +filled; Members thronging Bar, sharing the steps of +<span class="sc">Speaker's</span> Chair, peeping round from behind its recess, sitting on +the Gangway steps. The Lords' Gallery thronged, with somewhat +disorderly fringe of Viscounts jostling each other on the steps. Not +an inch of room to spare in the Diplomatic Gallery, whilst happy +strangers rose tier beyond tier on the benches behind. Over the +clock H.R.H., <i>debonnaire</i> as usual, able to extract fullest pleasure +and interest out of passing moment. By his side, his son and heir; +not the one who sat there on the April night nine years ago, but the +younger brother, with Cousin <span class="sc">May</span> facing him through the <i>grille</i> of +Ladies' Gallery. Many other gaps filled up on floor of House, the +biggest those created by the flitting of <span class="sc">Bright</span> and <span class="sc">Parnell</span>.</p> + +<p>The figure at table answering to Speaker's call, the "<span class="sc">First Lord</span> +of the <span class="sc">Treasury</span>" is the same, though different. Marvellously +little different, considering all that has passed since '86, and remembering +the weight of added years when they come on top of fourscore. +Scantier the hair, paler the face and more furrowed; but the form +still erect, the eye flashing, the right hand beating vigorously, as of +yore, on the long-suffering box; the voice even better than it was +for a certain period towards close of 1880 Parliament; the mental +vision as clear; the fancy as luxuriant; the logic as irresistible; +the musical swing of the stately sentences as harmonious. For two +hours and a quarter, unfaltering, unfailing, Mr. G. held the +unrivalled audience entranced, and sat down amid a storm of +cheering, looking almost as fresh as the posy in his button-hole.</p> + +<p><i>Business done.</i>—Mr. G. introduces Home-Rule Bill.</p> + +<p><i>Tuesday.</i>—<span class="sc">Colonel Saunderson</span> going about to-day just as if +nothing had happened yesterday. <i>But something did.</i> Little misunderstanding +arose in connection with appropriation of a Seat. The +Colonel, of course, in the row at the door of the House, between +eleven and noon. Two hundred Members waiting to get in as soon +as doors opened. "Nothing like it seen in civilised world since the +rush for Oklahoma," says Lord <span class="sc">Playfair</span>, who has been in the +United States. "Then, you remember, the intending settlers, +gathering from all parts, bivouacked on line marked by military, +and on appointed day, at fixed hour, at sound of gun, made the +dash into the Promised Land. Lack some of those particulars here. +But the passion just the same; equally reckless; every man first, +and the Sergeant-at-Arms take the hindmost."</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Playfair</span> himself came down two hours later, intending to take +his seat in Peers' Gallery, but, finding another mob at entrance, +almost as turbulent, concluded he would not add to the tumult by +wrestling with anybody for a place in the front rank. So, meeting +a Bishop, who had come down with similar intent and abandoned +endeavour from analogous reason, they went for a walk in the Park.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Saunderson</span> not a man of that kind. Thoroughly enjoyed himself +for exciting three-quarters of hour. Was in first flight of heated +and dishevelled senators who crossed the Bar when door flung open, +and elderly Messenger was simultaneously flattened at back of it. +<span class="sc">Saunderson</span> dropped on to first convenient seat; folded his arms; +beginning to view the scene when, like the person in the pastoral +poem, "he heard a voice which said,"—"You're sitting on my hat!"</p> + +<p>"Well," replied Colonel, genially recognising Irish Member of +same Province, but another faith, "now you mention it, I thought I +did hear something crunch." On examination, found remains of hat.</p> + +<p>"Come out of my seat!" said the other Ulster man.</p> + +<p>"Not at all," said the Colonel.</p> + +<p>"Then I'll take you!" said the Ulster man.</p> + +<p>"Do so," said the Colonel. Ulster man seized Colonel by collar +and coat, and tugged violently. Rest of conversation was carried on +with the Ulster man lying on his back, at full length, partly under +his seat. "There was no hat here when I arrived," said the Colonel.</p> + +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page95" id="page95"></a>[pg 95]</span><div class="figright" style="width:60%;"><a href="images/095.png"><img width="100%" src="images/095.png" alt="" /></a><h3>MR. PUNCH'S HISTORICAL CARTOONS. MR. G.'S ROOM IN THE HOUSE OF COMMONS.</h3></div> + +<p>"Then how did it get there?" said the Ulster man, under the +seat.</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page96" id="page96"></a>[pg 96]</span> +<p>"That's for you to explain," said the Colonel, politely assisting +Ulster man to rise. "If, when a gentleman is taking his seat, +an Hon. Member places his hat upon it, accidents will happen."</p> + +<p>Ulster man threatens to bring question under notice of <span class="sc">Speaker</span>. +"Begad, I hope he will," said the Colonel, smiling grimly. "If +you know the gentleman, <span class="sc">Toby</span>, tell him I'll keep him in hats +through Leap Year if he'll only do it. I should like to give the +House an unadorned narrative of the incident. <span class="sc">John Roche's</span> +deer-stealing story would be nothing to it."</p> + +<p><i>Business done.</i>—Debate on Home-Rule Bill.</p> + +<p><i>Thursday.</i>—<span class="sc">Grandolph</span> back again at old post on Front Opposition +Bench. All the Parliamentary world gathered to greet him. H.R.H. +in old familiar seat over clock, whence, up to Monday, his pleasant +presence had long been missed. Not a seat vacant on +floor of House. Galleries crammed, whilst, through <i>grille</i> +of Ladies' Gallery, bright eyes rained influence. <span class="sc">Grandolph</span> +had arranged to resume Debate on Home-Rule +Bill; should have come on bright and fresh as soon as +questions were over. Meanwhile sat on Front Opposition +Bench, awaiting the signal to dash in. Incessantly +playing with beard, in fashion that testified to +high state of nervousness.</p> + +<p>Everything excellently planned, the man, the hour, +and the surroundings. Only thing forgotten was the +dog—dog, you know, that has a little place down at +Epsom, and turns up on course just as the ranged horses +are straining at the bit, and the flag is upheld for the +fall. On this occasion, Irish dog, of course. Introduced +in artfullest way. <span class="sc">Esmonde</span>, mildest-mannered man +that ever whipped for Irish party, casually, as if he +were inviting him to have a cigarette, asked <span class="sc">Wolmer</span> +across House whether it was true that he had called +Irish Members "forty paid mercenaries"? <span class="sc">Wolmer</span>, an +equally well-dressed, civil-spoken young man, smilingly +admitted that it was quite true he had couched a remark +in the terms quoted, but had certainly not meant anything +offensive to Irish Members. Indeed, general aspect +of noble Lord, and his tone, suggested feeling of surprise +that <span class="sc">Esmonde</span> and his friends should not rather have +felt complimented by the observation challenged.</p> + +<p>This turned out to be polite crossing of swords before +duel to the death, a shaking of hands before deadly +set-to without gloves. <span class="sc">Sexton</span> suddenly dashed in, +and, with back-handed stroke at <span class="sc">Wolmer</span>, went for +the <i>Times</i> who had adopted and improved upon the +Viscount's genial remarks. Assault admirably planned; +carried on with irresistible vigour, sweeping down +earlier resistance of <span class="sc">Speaker</span>. Showed what <span class="sc">Sexton</span> +can do when so deeply moved as to forget himself, and +resist besetting temptation to play the fatal windbag.</p> + +<p>An hour-and-half's tussle all round House; at end +Irish held the field, and, without dissentient voice, <i>Times</i> +article declared to be "gross and scandalous breach of +privileges of House."</p> + +<p>But the hour and half had passed, and with it <span class="sc">Randolph's</span> +chance of supreme success. House of Commons, +though greedy for excitement, will never stand two doses +in quick succession. After scene like that, which to-night +filled House with fire and smoke, anything that follows is anti-climax. +It was a cruel fate, which <span class="sc">Grandolph</span> bore uncomplainingly, +and fought against with quiet courage. Painfully nervous +when he broke the silence of two years, the still crowded House had +difficulty in catching his opening sentences. But, as he went on, +he recovered himself, and regained mastery over an audience +evidently eager to welcome his permanent return to position of old +supremacy.</p> + +<p><i>Business done.</i>—The Wanderer returned. Slow music. Air—"<i>Come, +Kill the fatted Calf.</i>"</p> + +<p><i>Saturday</i>, 12:50, <span class="sc">A.M.</span>—Mr. G. just brought in Home-Rule Bill, +amid ringing cheers from Ministerialists, who rise to their feet, and +wildly wave their hats as <span class="sc">Premier</span> passes to table. Been some +effective speaking on this last night of Debate. <span class="sc">Chamberlain</span>, +<span class="sc">Blake</span>, and <span class="sc">John Morley</span>, each excellent in varied way. Only +few Members present to hear <span class="sc">Bodkin</span> insert maiden speech in dinner-hour. +A remarkable effort, distinguished, among other things, by +necessity of <span class="sc">Speaker</span> twice interposing, second time with ominous +threat that <span class="sc">Bodkin</span> could not be tolerated much longer. <span class="sc">Bodkin</span>, +resuming thread of his discourse, humbly apologised, kept his eye +(<span class="sc">Bodkin's</span> eye) warily on <span class="sc">Speaker</span>, and, when he saw him preparing +to rise for third time, abruptly resumed his seat,—returned +hurriedly to the needle-case, so to speak,—and thus avoided worse +things.</p> + +<p><i>Business done.</i>—Home-Rule Bill read a First Time.</p> + +<hr /> + +<h2>REAL "DIPLOMACY."</h2> + +<p>No doubt of it! A great diplomatic stroke on the part of +Mr. <span class="sc">John Hare</span> is this revival of <i>Diplomacy</i>—<i>i.e.</i>, <span class="sc">Sardou's</span> <i>Dora</i> +in an English-made dress—at the Garrick Theatre. An unequivocal +success (of which more "in our next") on Saturday night for everybody; +and, after the Play was over, the audience, inspired by +"the gods," called Mr. and Mrs. <span class="sc">Bancroft</span> before the curtain. +Mrs. <span class="sc">Bancroft</span>, in the course of an admirable little speech, said, +"If I stood here till next week, I should not be able to express all I +feel." Now as, by the right time, it was exactly 11:54 <span class="sc">P.M.</span> <i>Saturday +night</i>, this clever lady would certainly <i>not</i> have been able in the +time to express all she felt, or to say all she would have liked to say, +seeing there were only six minutes left before "next week" began.</p> + +<hr /> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width:50%;"><a href="images/096.png"><img width="100%" src="images/096.png" alt="" /></a><h3>"GOING FOR THE TIMES!"—CHARGE OF "MERCENARIES."</h3> + +<p>"Once more unto the breach (of privilege) dear Friends!"—<i>Henry the Fifth</i>, Act iii. s. 1.</p></div> + +<hr /> + +<h2>THE OLD FRENCHMAN AND THE YOUNG.</h2> + +<p class="center">(<i>After a Well-known Original.</i>)</p> + +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<p>"You are old, '<i>Le Grand Français</i>,'" the young Frank said,</p> +<p class="i2">"And your hair has become very white.</p> +<p>Yet the Judges award you five years, it is said—</p> +<p class="i2">I can't think, at your age, it's quite right."</p> +</div> <div class="stanza"> +<p>"Such Gaul gratitude, boy!" <i>Le Grand Français</i> replied,</p> +<p class="i2">"As it brightens history's page;</p> +<p>In my youth I served France, was her boast and her pride;</p> +<p class="i2">And France has forgotten my age."</p> +</div></div> + +<hr /> + +<p>"I hear," said Mrs. R., "that there is some question of real or +sham Constables at Burlington House. Why not refer it to the +Chief Commissioner of Police?"</p> + +<hr /> + +<h2>Sad, but True.</h2> + +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<p>Your journalist may be a scribe of sense, or comicality,</p> +<p class="i2">Avoiding the sensational, the silly, and the shoppy;</p> +<p>But he can never make a claim to true originality,</p> +<p class="i2">His contributions always being recognised as "copy."</p> +</div></div> + +<hr /> + +<p><font size="+1">☞</font>NOTICE.—Rejected Communications or Contributions, whether MS., Printed Matter, Drawings, or Pictures of any description, will +in no case be returned, not even when accompanied by a Stamped and Addressed Envelope, Cover, or Wrapper. To this rule +there will be no exception.</p> + +<p> </p> +<hr class="pg" /> +<p>***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI, VOL. 104, FEBRUARY 25, 1893***</p> +<p>******* This file should be named 22486-h.txt or 22486-h.zip *******</p> +<p>This and all associated files of various formats will be found in:<br /> +<a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/2/2/4/8/22486">http://www.gutenberg.org/2/2/4/8/22486</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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