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diff --git a/30492-h/30492-h.htm b/30492-h/30492-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..72c2d11 --- /dev/null +++ b/30492-h/30492-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,1517 @@ +<!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=UTF-8" /> +<title>The Project Gutenberg eBook of Punch, or the London Charivari, Vol. 98, April 5, 1890, 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;} + .smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} + .center {text-align: center;} + td {padding-left: 1em;} + 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.medium {width: 76%;} + html>body hr.medium {margin-right: 12%; margin-left: 12%; width: 76%;} + hr.short {text-align: center; width: 20%;} + html>body hr.short {margin-right: 40%; margin-left: 40%; width: 20%;} + div.centered {text-align: center;} /* work around for IE centering with CSS problem part 1 */ + div.centered table {margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: left;} + /* work around for IE centering with CSS problem part 2 */ + span.pagenum + {position: absolute; left: 1%; right: 91%; font-size: 8pt; text-indent: 0;} + + .poem + {margin-left:25%; 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;} + + .poem1 + {margin-left:35%; margin-right:10%; margin-bottom: 1em; text-align: left;} + .poem1 .stanza {margin: 1em 0em 1em 0em;} + .poem1 p {margin: 0; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + .poem1 p.i2 {margin-left: 1em;} + .poem1 p.i4 {margin-left: 2em;} + .poem1 p.i6 {margin-left: 3em;} + .poem1 p.i8 {margin-left: 4em;} + .poem1 p.i10 {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; width: auto;} + .figleft {float: left; width: auto;} + + .img {margin: 0; padding-right: 0;} + .div {margin: 0; padding: 0;} + + .inline {border: none; vertical-align: middle;} + + p.author {text-align: right;} + + .regards {text-align: right; + margin-right: 4em;} + + hr.pg { width: 100%; + margin-top: 0em; + margin-bottom: 0em; + border: solid black; + height: 5px; } + pre {font-size: 85%; } + </style> +</head> +<body> +<div>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 30492 ***</div> +<h1>The Project Gutenberg eBook, Punch, or the London Charivari, Vol. 98, +April 5, 1890, by Various, Edited by Sir F. C. (Francis Cowley) Burnand</h1> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<hr class="pg" /> + +<h1>PUNCH,<br /> + +OR, THE LONDON CHARIVARI.</h1> + +<h2>VOLUME 98.</h2> + +<hr class="full" /> + +<h2>APRIL 5, 1890.</h2> + +<hr class="full" /> + +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[Pg 157]</a></span> + +<h2>MR. PUNCH'S DICTIONARY OF PHRASES.</h2> + +<center><span class="smcap">Journalistic.</span></center> + +<p>"<i>The Prisoner, who was fashionably attired, and of genteel +appearance</i>;" <i>i.e.</i>, An ill-got-up swell-mobsman.</p> + +<p>"<i>A powerful-looking fellow</i>;" <i>i.e.</i>, An awful ruffian.</p> + +<p>"<i>A rumour has reached us</i>"—(in the well-nigh impenetrable recesses +wherein, as journalists, we habitually conceal ourselves).</p> + +<p>"<i>Nothing fresh has transpired</i>;" <i>i.e.</i>, The local Reporter's invention +is at last exhausted.</p> + +<p>"<i>The Prisoner seemed fully alive to the very serious position in which +he was placed</i>;" <i>i.e.</i>, He occasionally wiped his mouth on his +knuckles.</p> + +<p>"<i>The proceedings were kept up until an advanced hour</i>;" <i>i.e.</i>, The +Reporter left early.</p> + +<center><span class="smcap">Social.</span></center> + +<p>"<i>I'm so sorry I've forgotten to bring my Music</i>;" <i>i.e.</i>, I'm not going +to throw away my singing on these people.</p> + +<p>"<i>Dear me, this is a surprise to meet you here! I didn't, you see, know +you were in Town</i>;" <i>i.e.</i>, By which I wish her to understand that I +hadn't seen that prominent account of her Mid-Lent dance (<i>for which I +had received no invitation</i>) that appeared in last Thursday's <i>Morning +Post</i>.</p> + +<p>"<i>Never heard it recited better. Wonder you don't go on the Stage</i>;" +<i>i.e.</i>, Then one needn't come and hear you; now one can't keep out of +your way.</p> + +<center><span class="smcap">For Show Sunday.</span></center> + +<p>"<i>Shall you have many Pictures in this year?</i>" <i>i.e.</i>, He'll jump for +joy if he gets one in.</p> + +<p>"<i>Is your big Picture going to Burlington House or the Grosvenor?</i>" +<i>i.e.</i>, They wouldn't have it at an East-End Free Art Show.</p> + +<p>"<i>By Jove, dear boy, Burne-Jones will have to look to his laurels?</i>" +<i>i.e.</i>, Green mist and gawky girls, as usual!</p> + +<p>"<i>What I love about your pictures, dear Mr. Stodge, is their Subtle +Ideal treatment, so different, &c., &c.?</i>" <i>i.e.</i>, 'Tisn't like anything +on earth.</p> + +<p>"<i>Best thing you've done for years, my boy; and, mark my words, it'll +create a sensation!</i>" <i>i.e.</i>, Everybody says it'll be a great go, and I +may as well be in it.</p> + +<p>"<i>Entre nous, I don't think Millais' landscape is to be compared with +it?</i>" <i>i.e.</i>, I should hope not—for <span class="smcap">Millais'</span> sake.</p> + +<p>"<i>Fancy hanging him on the line, and skying you! It's too bad?</i>" <i>i.e.</i>, +His picture is.</p> + +<p>"<i>Glad you haven't gone in for mere 'pretty, pretty,' this time, old +man</i>;" <i>i.e.</i>, It's ugly enough for a scarecrow.</p> + +<p>"<i>My dear Sir, it's as mournfully impressive as a Millet</i>;" <i>i.e.</i>, Dull +skies and dowdy peasants!</p> + +<p>"<i>Well, it's something in these days to see a picture one can get a +laugh out of</i>;" <i>i.e.</i>, Or at!</p> + +<center><span class="smcap">Auctioneering.</span></center> + +<p>"<i>Every Modern Convenience</i>;" <i>i.e.</i>, Electric-bells and disconnected +drain-pipes.</p> + +<p>"<i>Cheap and Commodious Flat</i>;" <i>i.e.</i>, Seven small square rooms, with no +outlook, at about the rent of a Hyde Park mansion.</p> + +<p>"<i>A Desirable Residence</i>;" <i>i.e.</i>, To get out of.</p> + +<center><span class="smcap">Platformulars.</span></center> + +<p>"<i>And thus bring to a triumphant issue the fight in which we are +engaged</i>;" <i>i.e.</i>, Thank Heaven, I managed to get off my peroration all +right.</p> + +<p>"<i>Our great Leader</i>;" <i>i.e.</i>, "That's sure to make them cheer, and will +give me time to think."</p> + +<hr /> +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 55%"> +<a href="images/157.png"> +<img src="images/157.png" width="100%" alt="SOCIAL ECONOMY" /></a> +<h4>SOCIAL ECONOMY.</h4> +<p><i>Mrs. Scrooge.</i> "<span class="smcap">I'm writing to ask the Browns to meet the Joneses here +at Dinner, and to the Joneses to meet the Browns. We owe them both, you +know</span>."</p> +<p><i>Mr. Scrooge.</i> "<span class="smcap">But I've heard they've just Quarrelled, and don't +speak</span>!"</p> +<p><i>Mrs. Scrooge.</i> "<span class="smcap">I know. They'll refuse, and we needn't give a Dinner +Party at all!</span>"</p> +</div> + +<hr /> + +<h2>"MY CURATE."</h2> + +<blockquote><p>[The <i>Law Times</i> mentions that a photograph of a well-dressed and +good-looking gentleman has been sent to it, with the words "My +Advocate" beneath. On the back are the name and address of a +Solicitor.]</p></blockquote> + +<center><span class="smcap">Scene</span>—<i>Drowsiham Vicarage.</i> Vicar <i>and Family discovered seated at +breakfast-table. Time—Present.</i></center> + +<p><i>The Vicar.</i> I only advertised for a Curate in last Saturday's <i>Church +Papers</i>, and already I have received more than sixty applications by the +post, all of them, apparently, from persons of the highest +respectability, whose views, too, happen to coincide entirely with my +own! Dear me! I suppose these may be called the "Clerical Unemployed."</p> + +<p><i>Elder Daughter (giddily).</i> Pa! Have any of them sent photos?</p> + +<p><i>Vicar.</i> Yes, all of them. It seems to be the new method to inclose +<i>cartes-de-visite</i> with testimonials.</p> + +<p><i>Younger Daughter.</i> Now I shall be able to fill up my Album!</p> + +<p><i>Elder Daughter (who has been running her eye over the pictures).</i> This +is the pick of the lot, Pa. Take him! Such a dear! He's got an eyeglass, +and whiskers, and curly hair, and seems quite young!</p> + +<p><i>Younger Daughter (thoughtfully).</i> It's a pity we can't lay in <i>two</i> +Curates while we are about it.</p> + +<p><i>Vicar.</i> Hem! A rather nice-looking young man, certainly. Let's see what +he says about himself. The new system saves a lot of trouble, as +candidates for posts write down their qualifications on the back of +their photographs.</p> + +<p><i>Elder Daughter (reading).</i> "Views strictly orthodox." Oh, bother views! +Here's something better—"Very Musical Voice"—the <i>darling</i>! He <i>looks</i> +as if he had a musical voice. "Warranted not to go beyond fifteen +minutes in preaching." Delicious!</p> + +<p><i>Vicar's Wife.</i> I don't know if the parishioners will like <i>that</i>.</p> + +<p><i>Both Daughters (together).</i> But <i>we</i> shall!</p> + +<p><i>Elder Daughter (continues reading).</i> "Quite content to preach only in +the afternoons. No attempts to rival Vicar's eloquence." What <i>does</i> he +mean?</p> + +<p><i>Vicar (cordially).</i> I know! I think he'll do very well. <i>Just</i> the sort +of man I want!</p> + +<p><i>Elder Daughter.</i> Ha! Listen to this! "Can play the banjo, and +twenty-six games of lawn-tennis without fatigue." The pet!</p> + +<p><i>Younger Daughter.</i> Perfectly engaging! Oh, Pa, wire to him <i>at once</i>!</p> + +<p><i>Elder Daughter (turning pale).</i> Stop! What is this? "Very steady and +respectable. <i>Has been engaged to be married for past three years!</i>" +Call <i>him</i> engaging, indeed! No chance of it. The wretch!</p> + +<p><i>Younger Daughter.</i> A Wolf in Sheep's Clothing! Can't you prosecute him, +Pa?</p> + +<p><i>Vicar (meditatively).</i> I might—in the Archbishop's Court. Really this +new self-recommendation plan, though useful in some ways, seems likely +to disturb quiet households. And I've fifty-nine more photos to look at!</p> +<p class="author">[<i>Retires to Study, succumbs to slumber.</i></p> + +<hr /> + +<p><i><span class="smcap">She Stoops to Conquer</span></i> has been announced as in preparation at the +Criterion and the Vaudeville. Miss <span class="smcap">Mary Moore</span> v. Miss <span class="smcap">Winifred Emery</span> as +<i>Miss Hardcastle</i>. Which is to "stoop," and which to "conquer?" Why not +run it at both Houses?—and, to decide, call in a jury of "the +<span class="smcap">Goldsmith's</span> Company."</p> + +<hr /><br /> + +<center><span class="smcap">The Mayfair Row.</span>—<span class="smcap">Goode</span>, <span class="smcap">Baird</span>, and very indifferent.</center> +<br /> + +<hr /> + +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[Pg 158]</a></span> + +<h4>THE IMPERIAL SOCIALIST.</h4> + +<div class='center'> +<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="introduction"> +<tr><td><i>A Song of the Situation.</i></td><td><i><span class="smcap">Air</span>—"The King and I".</i></td><td><i>Socialist Workman sings</i>:—</td></tr> +</table></div> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 60%"> +<a href="images/158.png"> +<img src="images/158.png" width="100%" alt="THE IMPERIAL SOCIALIST" /></a> +</div> + +<div class='center'> +<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="introduction"> +<tr><td><i>Emperor.</i> "<span class="smcap">I'm one of you</span>!"</td><td><i>Socialist.</i> "<span class="smcap">All right, Mate. Then—take off your Crown!</span>"</td></tr> +</table> +</div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0">The Kaiser swears that he can work;</p> +<p class="i4">So can I! So can I!</p> +<p class="i0">Strain and long hours he will not shirk.</p> +<p class="i4">Nor do I, nor do I.</p> +<p class="i0">But he may work at his sweet will;</p> +<p class="i4">So they say, so they say.</p> +<p class="i0">Whilst I must toil my pouch to fill;</p> +<p class="i4">A long day, a long day!</p> +<p class="i0">So there's <i>some</i> difference I see</p> +<p class="i0">Betwixt the Emperor and me.</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0">He hath his army and his ships;</p> +<p class="i4">Great are they! Great are they!</p> +<p class="i0">Their price, which my lean pocket nips,</p> +<p class="i4">I must pay, I must pay.</p> +<p class="i0">Yet here he comes to grip my hand;</p> +<p class="i4">That's his plan, that's his plan;</p> +<p class="i0">And at my side to take his stand,</p> +<p class="i4">Working-man, working-man!</p> +<p class="i0">Strange that such likeness there should be</p> +<p class="i0">Betwixt the Emperor and me!</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0"><span class="smcap">Bismarck</span>, it seems, he does not trust;</p> +<p class="i4">Nor do I, nor do I.</p> +<p class="i0">He thinks the toiler's claims are just;</p> +<p class="i4">So do I, so do I.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[Pg 159]</a></span></p> +<p class="i0">He's called a Conference of Kings,</p> +<p class="i6">Novel scheme, novel scheme!</p> +<p class="i0">To talk of Socialistic things—</p> +<p class="i6">Pleasant dream, pleasant dream!</p> +<p class="i0">What difference, now, would <span class="smcap">Karl Marx</span> see</p> +<p class="i0">Betwixt my Emperor and me?</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0">The "International" they banned.</p> +<p class="i6"><i>That</i> was vile, <i>that</i> was vile.</p> +<p class="i0">But now a similar thing <i>they've</i> planned,</p> +<p class="i6">Makes me smile, makes me smile.</p> +<p class="i0">Labour world-over they'll discuss,</p> +<p class="i6">Far and near, far and near.</p> +<p class="i0">Will it all end in futile fuss?</p> +<p class="i6">That's my fear, that's my fear.</p> +<p class="i0">A difference of view I see</p> +<p class="i0">Betwixt the Emperor and me.</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0">But here he comes to grip my fist,</p> +<p class="i6">Fair and free, fair and free.</p> +<p class="i0">Thinks he the chance I can't resist?</p> +<p class="i6">We shall see, we shall see.</p> +<p class="i0">I wear the Cap and he the Crown—</p> +<p class="i6">Awkward gear, awkward gear!</p> +<p class="i0">Is he content to put it down?</p> +<p class="i6">No, I fear; no, I fear.</p> +<p class="i0">If Workman I as Workman he,</p> +<p class="i0">Perhaps he'll just change hats with me!</p> +</div></div> + +<hr /> + +<p><span class="smcap">The French Gallery.</span>—Oddly enough the French Gallery contains but a +small proportion of French pictures. Possibly Mr. <span class="smcap">Wallis</span> thinks it is +not high-bred to appear too long in a French <i>rôle</i>—perhaps he fancies +the public would get crusty or the critics might have him "on toast." +Anyhow, he has taken French leave to do as he pleases, and the result is +very satisfactory. He does not lose our Frenchship by the change. There +are three remarkable pictures by Prof. <span class="smcap">Fritz Von Uhde</span>, and two by Prof. +<span class="smcap">Max Liebermann</span>, which ought to make a sensation, and there is an +excellent <span class="smcap">Munkacsy</span>, besides a varied collection of foreign pictures.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p><span class="smcap">Mr. Henry Blackburn</span>, author of that annually useful work, <i>Academy +Notes</i>, is announced to give lectures at Kensington Town Hall, April 13. +One of his subjects, "Sketching in Sunshine," will be very interesting +to a Londoner. First catch your sunshine: then sketch. Mr. <span class="smcap">Blackburn</span> +will be illuminated by oxy-hydrogen; he will thus appear as Mr. +White-burn; so altogether a light entertainment.</p> + +<hr /> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 50%"> +<a href="images/159.png"> +<img src="images/159.png" width="100%" alt="AT THE ZOO." /></a> +<h4>AT THE "ZOO."</h4> +<p><i>Arabella.</i> "<span class="smcap">Oh, Aug—— Mr. Brown, let's go to the Apeiary. I think the +Monkeys are such fun!</span>"</p> +<p>[<i>He did not Propose that afternoon!</i>]</p> +</div> + +<hr /> + +<h2>THE WAY TO THE TEMPLE.</h2> + +<p><span class="smcap">Dear Mr. Punch,</span></p> + +<center><i>Willesden Junction.</i></center> + +<p>Having been assured by a Phrenologist that my bump of locality is very +highly developed, I attempted the other day—although a perfect stranger +to London—to walk from Charing Cross to the Temple without inquiring +the route. I had absolutely no assistance but a small map of Surbiton +and the neighbourhood, from which I had calculated the general lie of +the country, and a plain, ordinary compass, which I had bought cheap +because it had lost its pointer. I am not sure that the route I took was +the most direct. But when, after several hours' walk, I found myself at +Willesden Junction, I was assured by a boy in the district, whom I +asked, that I could not possibly have gone straighter. He advised me to +take a ticket at once for Chalk Farm, as I still had some way to go, and +said that he thought I might have to change at Battersea. He was a nice, +bright little boy, and laughed quite merrily.</p> + +<p>I have now been at Willesden Junction for eighteen hours, and I have not +yet secured a train for Chalk Farm. There have been several, but they +have always gone from the platform which I had just left. So I have +camped out on the 101th platform, and I intend to stop there till a +train for Chalk Farm comes in. Of course the porters have remonstrated, +and tried to explain where and when the train really does start. But I +would sooner trust my natural instincts than any porter. That bright +little boy has been twice to see how I am getting on. He brought two +other boys last time. They all told me to stick to it, and seemed much +amused—probably at the stupidity of those porters. But really, <i>Mr. +Punch</i>, Willesden Junction ought to be simplified. It may be all very +well for me, with a phrenological aptitude for this sort of thing; but +these different levels, platforms, and stairs must be very puzzling to +less gifted people, such as the green young man from the country.</p> + +<p>But the last suggestion which I have to make is the most important. +There ought to be a great many more doors <i>into</i> the refreshment-room, +and only one door out of it. I lost the thirteenth train for Chalk Farm +by going out of the wrong door. One door out would be ample, and it +should certainly be made—by an easy arrangement of pivots and pneumatic +pressure—to open straight into the train for anywhere where you wanted +to go. If this simple alteration cannot be made, Willesden Junction must +be destroyed at once, route and branch; or removed to Hampton Court, to +take the place of the present absurdly easy Maze. I am, <i>Mr. Punch</i>,</p> + +<p class="regards">Your humble and obedient Servant,</p> + +<p class="author"><span class="smcap">Phrenitic</span>.</p> + +<hr /> + +<h2>UNIVERSITY INTELLIGENCE.</h2> + +<center>(<i>New "Physical Examination" Style.</i>)</center> + +<p class="author"><span class="smcap">Oxford</span>, <i>April 1, 1890</i>.</p> + +<p>The Regius Professor of High Jumping will commence his Course of +Lectures, accompanied, in the way of illustration, by a practical +exhibition of several physical <i>tours de force</i> on the spare ground at +the back of the Parks, at some hour before 12 o'clock this morning. +Candidates for honours in Hurdle Racing, Dancing, and Throwing the +Hammer, are requested to leave their names at the Professor of +Anthropometry's, at his residence, in the new Athletic Schools, on or +before the 3rd inst. The subject selected for the next Term's Prize +Physical Essay Composition, which will have on the reading to be +practically and personally illustrated by several feats of the +successful candidate himself, will be "<i>Leap Year</i>."</p> + +<hr /> + +<h4>LIGHT AND AYRY.</h4> + +<center>Rejected! in bad grammar I declare<br /> + I can't forget this year, nor yet that Ayr!</center><br /> + +<hr /><br /> + +<p><span class="smcap">The Recording Angel in the House, or the Gal in the Gallery.</span>—"<i>Que +diable allait-elle faire dans cette 'galerie.'</i>"</p> + +<hr /> + +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[Pg 160]</a></span> + +<h2>MODERN TYPES.</h2> + +<center>(<i>By Mr. Punch's Own Type-Writer.</i>)<br /> + +No. VII.—THE PATRON OF SPORT.</center> + +<p>In order to qualify properly for the patronage of sport, a man must +finally abandon any vestiges of refinement which may remain to him after +a youth spent mainly in the use of strong language, and the abuse of +strong drink. The future patron, who has enjoyed for some years the +advantages of a neglected training in the privacy of the domestic +circle, will have been sent to a public school. Like a vicious book, he +will soon have been "called in," though not until he has been cut by +those who may have been brought in contact with him. Having thus left +his school for his school's good, he will find no difficulty in +persuading his parents that the high spirits of an ingenuous youth, +however distasteful they may have been to the ridiculous prejudices of a +pedantic Head Master, are certain to be properly appreciated by the +officers of a crack Regiment. He will, therefore, decide to enter the +Army, and after pursuing his arduous studies for some time at the +various Music Halls and drinking saloons of the Metropolis, he will +administer a public reproof to the Civil Service Commissioners, by +declining on two separate occasions to pass the examination for +admission into Sandhurst.</p> + +<p>He will then inform his father that he is heavily in debt, and, having +borrowed money from his tailor, he will disappear from the parental ken, +to turn up again, after a week, without his watch, his scarf-pin, or his +studs. This freak will be accepted by his relatives as a convincing +proof of his fitness for a financial career, and he will shortly be +transferred to the City as Clerk to a firm of Stockbrokers. Here his +versatile talents will have full scope. He will manage to reconcile a +somewhat lax attention to the details of business with a strict +regularity in his attendance at suburban race-meetings. Nothing will be +allowed to stand in his way when he pursues the shadow of pleasure +through the most devious windings into the lowest haunts. For him the +resources of dissipation are never exhausted. Pot-houses provide him +with cocktails, restaurants furnish him with elaborate dinners, tailors +array him in fine clothes, hosiers collar him up to the chin, and cover +his breast with immaculate fronts. The master-pieces of West-End +jewellers, hatters, and boot-makers, sparkle on various portions of his +person; he finds in a lady step-dancer a goddess, and in <i>Ruff's Guide</i> +a Bible; he sups, he swears, he drinks, and he gambles, and, finally, he +attains to the summit of earthly felicity by finding himself mentioned +under a nickname in the paragraphs of a sporting organ.</p> + +<p>Having about the same time engaged in a midnight brawl with an +undersized and middle-aged cabman, he appears the next morning in a +Police Court, and, after being fined forty shillings, is hailed as a +hero by his companions, and recognised as a genuine Patron of Sport by +the world at large. Henceforward his position is assured. He becomes the +boon companion of Music-hall Chairmen, and lives on terms of intimate +vulgarity with Money-lenders, who find that it pays to take a low +interest in the pleasures, in order the more easily to obtain a high +interest on the borrowings, of reckless young men.</p> + +<p>In company with these associates, and with others of more or less +repute, the Patron of Sport sets the seal to his patronage by becoming a +member of a so-called Sporting Club, at which professional pugilists +batter one another in order to provide excitement for a mixed assemblage +of coarse and brainless rowdies and the feeble toadies who dance +attendance upon them. Here the Patron is at his best and noblest. Though +he has never worn a glove in anger, nor indeed taken the smallest part +in any genuine athletic exercise, he is as free with his opinions as he +is unsparing of the adjectives wherewith he adorns them. He talks +learnedly of "upper-cuts" and "cross-counters," and grows humorous over +"mouse-traps," "pile-drivers on the mark," and "the flow of the ruby." +Having absorbed four whiskeys-and-soda, he will observe that "if a +fellow refuses to train properly, he must expect to be +receiver-general," and, after lighting his tenth cigar as a tribute, +presumably, to the lung power of the combatants, will indulge in some +moody reflections on the decay of British valour and the general +degeneracy of Englishmen. He will then drink liqueur brandy out of a +claret glass, and, having slapped a sporting solicitor on the back and +dug in the ribs a gentleman jockey who has been warned off the course, +he will tread on the toes of an inoffensive stranger who has allowed +himself to be elected a member of the Club under the mistaken impression +that it was the home of sportsmen and the sanctuary of honest boxers. +After duly characterising the stranger's eyes and his awkwardness, the +Patron will resume his seat near the ropes, and will stare vacuously at +the brilliant gathering of touts, loafers, parasites, usurers, +book-makers, broken-down racing men, seedy soldiers, and over-fed City +men who are assembled round the room. Inspired by their society with the +conviction that he is assisting in an important capacity in the revival +of a manly sport, he will adjust his hat on the back of his head, rap +with his gold-headed cane upon the floor, and call "Time!"—a humorous +sally which is always much appreciated, especially when the ring is +empty. After witnessing the first three rounds of the next competition, +he will rise to depart, and observing a looking-glass, will excite the +laughter of his friends and the admiration of the waiters by sparring +one round with his own reflection, finally falling into the arms of a +companion, whom he adjures not to mind him, but to sponge up the other +fellow.</p> + +<p>After this exploit a supper-club receives him, and he is made much of by +those of both sexes who are content to thrive temporarily on the money +of a friend. He will then drive a hansom through the streets, and, +having knocked over a hot potato-stall, he will compensate the +proprietor with a round of oaths and a five-pound note.</p> + +<div class="figright" style="width: 40%"> +<a href="images/160.png"> +<img src="images/160.png" width="100%" alt="cartoon" /></a> +</div> + +<p>In appearance the Patron of Sport is unwholesome. The bloom of youth +vanished from his face before he ceased to be a boy; he assumes the worn +and sallow mask of age before he has fairly begun to be a man. His hair +is thin, and is carefully flattened by the aid of unguents, his dress is +flashy, his moustache thick. In order the more closely to imitate a true +sportsman, he wears a baggy overcoat, with large buttons. Yet he abhors +all kinds of honest exercise, and, in the days of his prosperity, keeps +a small brougham with yellow wheels. Soon after he reaches the age of +thirty, he begins to feel the effects of his variegated life. He fails +in landing a big <i>coup</i> on the Stock Exchange, and loses much money over +a Newmarket meeting, in which he plunges on a succession of rank +outsiders, whom a set of rascals, more cunning than himself, have +represented to him as certainties. His position on the Stock Exchange +becomes shaky, and he attempts to restore it by embarking with a gang of +needy rogues on a first-class "roping" transaction, in connection with a +prize-fight in Spain. Having, however, been exposed, he is shunned by +most of those who only heard of the swindle when it was too late to join +in it.</p> + +<p>This is the beginning of the end. He becomes careless of his appearance; +with the decrease of his means his coats become shiny, and his cuffs +more and more frayed. Eventually he falls into a state of sodden +imbecility, relieved by occasional flashes of delirium tremens, and dies +at the age of thirty-six, regretted by nobody except the faithful +bull-dog, whose silver collar was the last thing he pawned.</p> + +<hr /> + +<h4>A New Opera (in Preparation).</h4> + +<p><i>Librettist.</i> Now here's a grand effect. They all say, "We swear!" Then +there's a magnificent "Oath Chorus!" How do you propose to treat that?</p> + +<p><i>Composer.</i> Oath Chorus? In D Major.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p><span class="smcap">A Page from an Imperial Note-Book.</span>—So far so good. Got rid of the Grand +Old Chancellor and the rest of <i>that</i> crew—without much of a row! Been +civil to my English Uncle, the Pope and the Democrats. Can't be idle, so +what shall I do next? Why not take a trip to America where I might stand +for President? If I propose extending trip to Salt Lake, would have to +go <i>en garçon</i>. Or I might see if I could not get a little further than +<span class="smcap">Stanley</span> in Africa. When I returned might write a book to be called, <i>The +Extra Deep-Edged Black Continent</i>. Or why not turn painter? With a +little practice would soon cut out all the Old Masters, native and +foreign. And if I gave my mind to poetry, why <span class="smcap">Goethe</span> and <span class="smcap">Heine</span> would be +simply nowhere! How about horse-racing? A Berlin Derby Day would make my +English cousins "sit up." And sermons, there's something to be done in +sermons! I believe I could compose as good a discourse as any of my +Court chaplains. And then, possibly, I might be qualified to do that +which would satisfy the sharpest craving of my loftiest ambition—<i>I +might write for Punch!</i></p> + +<blockquote><p>[So he shall. He shall "write for <i>Punch</i>," enclosing stamps, and +the Number shall be sent to him by return.—<span class="smcap">Ed</span>.]</p></blockquote> + +<hr /> + +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[Pg 161]</a></span> + +<h2>PLAY-TIME.</h2> + +<p><span class="smcap">Since</span> the first night, if hearsay evidence can be accepted, as I didn't +see the <i>première</i>, Mr. <span class="smcap">Sugden</span> must have immensely improved his +<i>Touchstone</i>. He plays it now with much dry, quaint humour, and when I +saw him in the part last week, every line told with a decidedly +discriminating but appreciative audience. His scenes with that capital +<i>Audrey</i>, Miss <span class="smcap">Marion Lea</span>, and with <i>William</i>, were uncommonly good. I +confess I was surprised. Mr. <span class="smcap">Bourchier</span>—but now an amateur, now +thus—gives <i>Jaques'</i> immortal speech of "All the world's a stage," in a +thoroughly natural and unconventional manner, chiefly remarkable for the +absence of every gesture or tone that could make it a mere theatrical +recitation by a modern professional reciter at a pic-nic. Mrs. <span class="smcap">Langtry's</span> +<i>Rosalind</i> is charming, her scenes with <i>Orlando</i> being as pretty a +piece of acting as any honest playgoer could wish to see. And what a +pretty Lamb is she they call <span class="smcap">Beatrice</span> who plays <i>Phœbe</i>! What a +sweet, gentle, restful play it is! How unlike these bustling times! To +witness this idyllic romance as it is put on at the St. James's, is as +if one had stepped aside out of "the movement," had bid adieu for a +while to the madding crowd, and had plunged into the depths of the +forest of Arden, to find a tranquil "society of friends," among whom, +under the greenwood tree, one can rest and be thankful.</p> + +<div class="figright" style="width: 30%"> +<a href="images/161.png"> +<img src="images/161.png" width="100%" alt="The Kan-Kan (-garoo) Dance" /></a> +<h4>The Kan-Kan (-garoo) Dance.</h4> +</div> + +<p>I was curious to see how <span class="smcap">Alexander</span> "the (Getting) Great" would comport +himself as the hero of light farce, associated as he has always hitherto +been with heroes of romance and high comedy. The theatre-going public +and his admirers—the terms are synonymous—may breathe again. <span class="smcap">Alexander</span> +is surprisingly good as <i>Dr. Bill</i>, and the serious earnestness with +which he invests the part intensifies the drollery of the complications. +And to think that the adapter of this gay and festive piece should be +none other than the sentimental troubadour, song-writer and composer, +author of a Lyceum Tragedy and other similar trifles, Mr. <span class="smcap">Hamilton +Aïdé</span>!! "Sir," in future will <span class="smcap">Hamilton Aïdé</span> say, when being interviewed +by a Manager, "I will now read you my Five Act Tragedy entitled——" +"Hang your tragedies!" will the Manager exclaim, "Give me a farce like +'<i>Dr. Bill</i>,' my boy!" And once more will the poet put his pride and his +tragedy in one pocket, and all the money which the Comic Muse will give +him in the other. I back the <i>argumentum ad pocketum</i> against the Tragic +Muse.</p> + +<p>How capitally it is played! Miss <span class="smcap">Brough</span> excellent; and so also is Mr. +<span class="smcap">Chevalier</span>, who entirely loses his own identity in his make-up, and is +not to be recognised at all, save for a few mannerisms. Charming +housemaid is pretty Miss <span class="smcap">Marie Linden</span>; and the idiotic youth, <i>George +Webster</i>, played by Mr. <span class="smcap">Benjamin Webster</span>,—two Websters rolled into +one,—is very funny. But they're all as good as they can be. I +congratulate <span class="smcap">Alexander</span> the (Getting) Great, who, for pecuniary reasons, +I should like to be, were I not</p> + +<p class="author"><span class="smcap">Diogenes Out of the Tub</span>.</p> + +<hr /> + +<h4>The Bitter Cry of the Dramatic Critic.</h4> + +<div class="poem1"><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0">'Tis the voice of the Critic</p> +<p class="i2">I hear him complain,</p> +<p class="i0">"One more afternoon!</p> +<p class="i2">Fools! they're at it again!</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0">These dull <i>Matinées</i>!</p> +<p class="i2">Wretched plays I must see!</p> +<p class="i0">But, alas, 'tis no play,</p> +<p class="i2">And there's no peace for me!"</p> +</div></div> + +<hr /> + +<h4>"Le Sport" in Bouverie Street.</h4> + +<p><span class="smcap">The</span> excellent columns of "This Morning's News" in the <i>Daily News</i> the +other day were endowed with fresh interest by an announcement made with +respect to the Emperor of <span class="smcap">Austria</span>. It runs thus:—</p> + +<blockquote><p>"When informed that on the Imperial preserves in the neighbourhood +of Vienna the first snipe had been seen, <i>the passionate huntsman</i> +said, 'I am exceedingly sorry, but I've no time for them this +week.'"</p></blockquote> + +<p>Every one has heard of "The Hunting of the Snark;" but this is the first +time reference has been publicly made to the hunting of the Snipe.</p> + +<hr /> + +<h4>AT THE FIRST BOTANIC GARDEN SHOW. MARCH 26.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0"><span class="smcap">Himantophyllums</span> and Cyclamens were there to be seen,</p> +<p class="i0">And some pretty baskets full of strawb'rries from Englefield Green.</p> +</div></div> + +<hr /> + +<h2>OUR ADVERTISERS.</h2> + +<center><span class="smcap">High Life, Commercial, Trading, and Other</span>.</center> + +<p>THE BEST SCREENED DUCAL KNOBBLES.—As supplied direct from the ancestral +estates of His Grace the Duke of <span class="smcap">Wagover</span>.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<p>THE BEST SCREENED DUCAL KNOBBLES.—This fashionable coal, throwing down +a pleasing and prettily-coloured but plentiful light blue ash, is now +confidently recommended to the general public, by His Grace the Duke of +<span class="smcap">Wagover</span>, who begs to inform his numerous patrons and clients that he has +now completed his final arrangements to enable him entirely to +relinquish his duties in the Upper House of the Legislature, for the +purpose of being free to devote the whole of his time to the personal +supervision of the working of the lucrative seams recently discovered on +his family estate. Orders, that should be accompanied by postal orders +or cheque, may be sent direct to His Grace, addressed either to Wagover +Castle, or to his town residence in Belgrave Square, S.W.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<p>THE BEST SCREENED DUCAL KNOBBLES.—N.B. Customers are respectfully +invited to note that the Ducal Arms, Coronet and Family Tree, are +properly blazoned on every sack on delivery, as a guarantee that the +coal supplied is that now offered at the extremely low figure of 28s. a +ton as "Ducal Knobbles," screened under the immediate supervision of His +Grace's own eye.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<p>THE EARL'S PICKLED PIES.—These delicious breakfast-table delicacies +(now the rage everywhere) can be obtained by special arrangement, at any +pastrycook's, cheesemonger's, or grocer's in the Three Kingdoms. A Noble +Earl having by an agreement with his head-keeper and chief tenants, +secured the right of shooting his own ground game, has commenced on his +own estate the manufacture, for which he has taken out patent rights, of +the above celebrated "rabbit" pies, the demand for which has so +increased that for the last six months his house has never contained a +shooting-party of less than ten guns at a time, that have all been +busily engaged at making a bag for their manufacture, continually, from +morning till night. An analyst, writing to the <i>Stethoscope</i>, says, "<i>I +have examined a sample of the pie sent me. It appears to be all rabbit. +I cannot discover a particle of cat in it anywhere</i>."</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<p>THE EXCLUSIVE SOCIETY INTRODUCTION SYNDICATE. With the above +appellation, a Company has been organised, under the Direction of an +Impecunious Duchess, assisted by a Committee of Upper Class Ladies, +whose want of ready money has become urgent, for the purpose of selling, +at a fixed sale of prices, to any low-bred <i>parvenue</i> who can afford to +pay for it, the <i>entrée</i> to those exclusive and hitherto unapproachable +circles to which they, by the accident of their birth and family +connections, possess the privilege of offering and securing an +introduction.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<p>HIGH CLASS SOCIAL PRIVILEGES.—<span class="smcap">The Exclusive Society Introduction +Syndicate</span> beg to direct the attention of enterprising and ambitious +aspirants to the advantages of an introduction to various social +privileges of a High Class and Exclusive character, to the fact that the +following "items," that have been carefully thought out, and priced +according to scale, conformably with the present condition of the social +market, are now offered for their consideration:—</p> + +<p class="regards">£ <i>s.</i> <i> d.</i></p> +<p>Invitation and admission to a "crush" in the neighbourhood of Belgrave Square<br /> + (without introduction to Host or Hostess)</p> +<p class="regards">21 0 0</p> +<p>Ditto, ditto, (with introduction)</p> +<p class="regards">31 10 0</p> +<p>Ditto, ditto, at Bayswater, or West Kensington</p> +<p class="regards">1 11 6</p> +<p>Five o'clock tea, including introduction to Leading Actor, Royal Academician,<br /> + Distinguished Literary Man, or other celebrity</p> +<p class="regards">10 10 0</p> +<p>Same privilege enjoyed at select little dinner-party of eight</p> +<p class="regards">26 5 0</p> + +<p>Other "Social Privileges" provided according to the special requirements +of the case. Underbred people, with no position, but possessing means, +may be launched under the protection of carefully selected Chaperons, +into the very best Society, on applying personally to the Manageress.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<p>DINING WITH A DUCHESS.—<span class="smcap">The Exclusive Society Introduction Syndicate</span> beg +to inform their patrons and clients that their charge for satisfactorily +securing them this eminent and obvious social advantage is, at the +present moment, through the rare opportunity due to financial losses +incurred recently by several distinguished Noble Families, only one +hundred and fifty guineas. This sum does not include any personal +introduction, but the latter may be arranged for with or without three +minutes' conversation over a cup of tea later in the course of the +evening by the payment of the comparatively small additional fee of +fifty guineas extra.</p> + +<hr /> + +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[Pg 162]</a></span> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 80%"> +<a href="images/162.png"> +<img src="images/162.png" width="100%" alt="IMITATION THE SINCEREST FLATTERY" /></a> +<h4>IMITATION THE SINCEREST FLATTERY.</h4> +</div> + +<hr /> + +<h2>"THE GIFT HORSE."</h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0">Niver look a gift horse in the mouth? Moighty foine,</p> +<p class="i2">But how if the crayture is not worth its kape?</p> +<p class="i0">Faix, it isn't the nag for a stable o' moine.</p> +<p class="i2">Oive doubts of its blood and oi don't loike its shape.</p> +<p class="i0">What! we ought to accipt it and think it an honour?</p> +<p class="i0">We moight do that same did we not know the donor!</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0">Oh, I grant ye it's big, and I grant ye it's bould,</p> +<p class="i2">A blood-looking Bucephalus ivery inch;</p> +<p class="i0">But its oi if ye look, Sorr, is cruel and could,</p> +<p class="i2">And that big aff-hind leg has a fidgety flinch.</p> +<p class="i0">Oi'd git out av the way av its heels moighty quick,</p> +<p class="i0">For I fancy the baste has a botherin' kick!</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0">It looks all very well in the front, to be shure,</p> +<p class="i2">Though I don't loike the way that it lays back its ears,</p> +<p class="i0">But your sate in the saddle had need be secure</p> +<p class="i2">If it lash out behoind, as it <i>could</i>, oive me fears.</p> +<p class="i0">By the sowl of St. <span class="smcap">Pat</span>. oi'd as soon risk a spill</p> +<p class="i0">From those blayguard buck-jumpers of <span class="smcap">Buffalo Bill</span>!</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0">Gift horse? Oh, by jabers <i>that's</i> not what we're afther,</p> +<p class="i2">We'd breed for ourselves if they'd give us a chance.</p> +<p class="i0"><span class="smcap">Balfour</span>, ye stand there wid an oi full o' laughter.</p> +<p class="i2">Ye divil, we know that cool optical dance.</p> +<p class="i0">Come the comether on us then, would ye, ye wag,</p> +<p class="i0">Wid this "ginerous" gift of a dangerous nag?</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0">All shenanigin', that's what it is, sheer purtence;</p> +<p class="i2">But ye don't catch us ould Oirish birds wid such chaff!</p> +<p class="i0">Ye'd loike us to take it,—and take no offence.</p> +<p class="i2">And thin it's yourself as 'ud just have the laugh.</p> +<p class="i0">It may do for the North, but won't suit us down South;</p> +<p class="i0">So, <span class="smcap">Parnell</span>, my boy, <i>take a squint at its mouth!</i></p> +</div></div> + +<hr /> + +<p><span class="smcap">Faster and Faster.</span>—In France there is now a Fasting Girl. If she beats +the record, and if the winners, who back her staying powers against +those of Succi, give her a handsome <i>dot</i>, she will be known as <i>La +Jeûnesse Dorée</i>.</p> + +<hr /> + +<h2>DUNRAVEN.</h2> +<center>(<i>Verses from the Very Latest Version.</i>)</center> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0">Once on a Commission dreary sat <span class="smcap">Dunraven</span>, worn and weary.</p> +<p class="i2">Hearing many a snuffling Hebrew, many a Sweater's victim poor,</p> +<p class="i0">Oft he nodded, nearly dozing, but, on the Commission's closing,</p> +<p class="i2">Schemed out a Report, supposing that by such Report he'd score.</p> +<p class="i0">"Tone it down," his colleagues muttered; "like a sucking-dove let's roar,</p> +<p class="i6">Gently purr, and nothing more."</p> +</div></div> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0">"Be those words our sign of parting!" cried <span class="smcap">Dunraven</span>, swift upstarting;</p> +<p class="i2">"Sweating's an accursed system, but if now our toil is o'er,</p> +<p class="i0">We leave twaddle as sole token of the swelling words we've spoken.</p> +<p class="i2">Public faith in us is broken! Bah! I quit, I "bust", boil o'er!</p> +<p class="i0">Take my seat, sign your Report, about such bosh my spirit bore?"</p> +<p class="i6">Quoth <span class="smcap">Dunraven</span>, "Nevermore!"</p> +</div></div> + +<hr /> + +<h2>ROBERT TRIHUMFUNT!</h2> + +<p>I only hopes as most of my thowsands of readers took my strait tip last +Wensday morning, and got their 9 to 4 against the winner, if not it most +suttenly wasn't my fault. My directions was as clear as daylight. "Dark +morning, dark blew carnt lose." And wosent it a dark morning? and wosent +it luvly arterwuds? Any of my winners may send my 5 per sent commishun +to the hoffice as ushal, and they will all receve a copy of my emortle +Book by post.</p> + +<p>It was a puffeckly lovely race! fust Cambridge got fust, then Hoxford +got fust and Cambridge second, and so on all through, but in course +Hoxford wun as I proffysized.</p> + +<p>I seed all the River Tems Conserwatives, with the Right Honnerabel the +<span class="smcap">Lord Mare</span> at the hed of 'em all, a laying carmly at rest in their +bootifool Steam Bote, a trying for to look as if they wasn't responsibel +for all the hundreds of thousands of peeple as lined all the banks of +the River a gitting ome safely. Many on 'em I remarked kept on a +disappearing down below ewery now and then, probberbly to seek that +strengthening of the system so werry nessessery under such trying +suckemstances. Upon the hole, I wentures werry humbly to pronounce it to +be one of the werry sucksessfullest races of moddun times, which I +bleeves means about 6 years. <span class="smcap">Robert.</span></p> + +<hr /> + +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[Pg 163]</a></span> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 80%"> +<a href="images/163.png"> +<img src="images/163.png" width="100%" alt="THE GIFT HORSE" /></a> +<h4>"THE GIFT HORSE."</h4> +</div> + +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[Pg 164]</a></span> + +<hr /> + +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[Pg 165]</a></span> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 60%"> +<a href="images/165.png"> +<img src="images/165.png" width="100%" alt="TIT FOR TAT" /></a> +<h4>TIT FOR TAT.</h4> +<p><i>Captain Pullem (having just effected a "Swop" with his Friend).</i> "<span class="smcap">Now, +I'll be straight with you, Old Man. That Horse you've got from me is a +bit of a Crib-biter</span>!"</p> +<p><i>Friend.</i> "<span class="smcap">Oh, don't mention it, Old Chap. You'll find mine to be a +confirmed Runaway!</span>"</p> +</div> + +<hr /> + +<h2>SONG SENTIMENTIANA.</h2> + +<center>(<i>A Delightful "All-the-Year-Round" Resort for the Fashionable +Composer.</i>)<br /> + +<span class="smcap">Example II.—Showing how curiously Retentive is the Lover's Memory</span>.</center> + +<div class="poem1"><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0">'Tis ninety years ago, love!</p> +<p class="i2">It seems but yestermorn</p> +<p class="i0">We sat upon the snow, love,</p> +<p class="i2">And watch'd the golden corn!</p> +<p class="i0">I mind the bitter wind, love—</p> +<p class="i2">I mind it well, although</p> +<p class="i0">The wind I say I mind, love,</p> +<p class="i2">Blew ninety years ago!</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0">The plough stood on the hill, love—</p> +<p class="i2">The horse stood in the plough!</p> +<p class="i0">And both were standing still, love—</p> +<p class="i2">I seem to see them now!</p> +<p class="i0">The lamb frisk'd in the glen, love—</p> +<p class="i2">A stranger <i>he</i> to <i>whoa</i>!</p> +<p class="i0">And so was I—but then, love,</p> +<p class="i2">'Twas ninety years ago!</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0">The roses by the way, love,</p> +<p class="i2">Were large and, oh, so fair!</p> +<p class="i0">And so they are to-day, love,</p> +<p class="i2">For all I know—or care!</p> +<p class="i0">And softly unto thou, love,</p> +<p class="i2">While yet among the snow,</p> +<p class="i0">I breathed that fatal vow, love,</p> +<p class="i2">Of ninety years ago!</p> +</div></div> + +<hr /> + +<p><span class="smcap">A "Fishing Interrogatory."</span>—"What's this new French book on angling?" +asked Mrs. R., who is not very well up in the French language and +literature. "I believe," she went on, "it is called <i>The Bait Humane</i>. I +do hope it is against the cruel practice of putting live worms on a +hook, which is so cruel."—[It is supposed that our dear Mrs. R. has +heard some mention of <i>La Bête Humaine</i>.—<span class="smcap">Ed.</span>]</p> + +<hr /> + +<h2>OUR BOOKING-OFFICE.</h2> + +<p><span class="smcap">Advice</span> to those who are about to give Easter presents—send to +<span class="smcap">Macmillan's</span> for "The Nursery 'Alice,'" who re-appears "as fresh as +paint," that is, with twenty-four of "Our Mr. <span class="smcap">Tenniel's</span>" illustrations, +coloured by Miss <span class="smcap">Gertrude Thomson</span>, under his direction.</p> + +<p>The <i>Universal Review</i> is specially noteworthy for a short play by Mr. +<span class="smcap">W. L. Courtney</span>, entitled, <i>Kit Marlowe's Death</i>. Mr. <span class="smcap">Bourchier</span> of the +St. James's, so it is stated, is going to add this "Kit" to his +theatrical wardrobe. Some of the stage-directions,—such, for instance, +as "<i>They pour out wine in his cup, which he swallows</i>," and "<i>The +others laugh at</i> <span class="smcap">Nash's</span> <i>expense</i>,"—are well worth all the money that +the spirited purchaser may have paid for this almost priceless work. In +the same Magazine, the coloured frontispiece of "<i>Count Tolstoy at +Home</i>," showing the Count, not labouring in the fields of literature, +but simply guiding the plough, is as good as the article on the +<i>Kreutzer Sonata</i> is interesting; and interesting also is the paper +entitled, "Musings in an English Cathedral," by the Dean of +<span class="smcap">Gloucester</span>,—henceforth to be known as "A Musing Dean."</p> + +<p>Mr. <span class="smcap">Andrew Lang</span> in <i>Longman's</i>—or rather <i>Lang-man's—Magazine</i>, is +still stopping at "The Sign of The Ship"—[The Baron moves "that the +words 'and Turtle' be inserted after 'Ship'"]—and as he has recently +been delighting us with wanders in the land of Ham, it will gratify his +readers to learn, that he is now ceasing to be "All for 'Hur,'" in order +to join the author of She in a plot for a new romance. They are +undeterred by the eye of Detective <span class="smcap">Runciman</span>. I wish success to Merry +Andrew Languid in this collaboration. In this same <i>Lang-man's Mag.</i>, +Mr. <span class="smcap">Val Prinsep</span>, A.R.A., having temporarily dissociated himself from the +paint-brush and canvas, by which he has made his name and fame, +continues his novel <i>Virginie</i>. In the present chapter he incidentally +gives a description of the service of Mass in the good <i>Abbé Leroux's</i> +parish church, which is a triumph of imagination and subtle humour. No +wonder "the <i>Abbé Leroux</i> was scandalised," when the service had been +turned topsy-turvy, the <i>credo</i> put before the <i>gloria</i>, and a young +person among his congregation, topping all other voices, was singing a +solo! Where was the Beadle? or a Churchwarden? or an Aggrieved +Parishioner? Three cheers for Facile <span class="smcap">Prinsep's</span> novel!</p> + +<p>In <i>Plain Tales from the Hills</i>, by Mr. <span class="smcap">Rudyard Kipling</span>, the jaded +palate of the "General Reader" will recognise a new and piquant flavour. +In places the manner suggests an Anglo-Indian <span class="smcap">Bret Harte</span>, and there is +perhaps too great an abundance of phrases and local allusions which will +be dark sayings to the uninitiated. But the stories show a quite +surprising knowledge of life, a familiarity with military, civil, and +native society, and a command of pathos and humour, which have already +won a reputation for the author. Few can read <i>Beyond the Pale</i>, <i>The +Arrest of Lieutenant Golightly</i>, <i>The Story of Muhammed Din</i>, <i>The Germ +Destroyer</i>, and <i>The Madness of Private Ortheris</i>, for example, without +admiration for the versatility which can cover so wide a range, and +impress, amuse, or touch with the same ease and epigrammatic +conciseness.</p> + +<p class="author"><span class="smcap">Baron de Book-worms & Co.</span></p> + +<hr /> + +<h2>THE ROOT OF THE MATTER.</h2> + +<center>(<i>The Sporting M.P.'s Straight Tip to Trevelyan.</i>)</center> + +<div class="poem1"><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0">In the intervals of Sport</p> +<p class="i2">M.P.'s vamp the country's work,</p> +<p class="i0">Therefore cut the Sessions short,</p> +<p class="i2">Supplementary Sessions shirk.</p> +<p class="i0"><i>Must</i> have time to pot the grouse,</p> +<p class="i2"><i>Must</i> have time to hook the salmon,</p> +<p class="i0">Spoil our Sport to help the House?</p> +<p class="i8">Gammon!!!</p> +</div></div> + +<hr /> + +<p><span class="smcap">Lost</span>, somewhere between Land's End and John O'Groat's, a +highly-treasured heir-loom, known as the "British Sense of Fair Play." +It disappeared immediately after the issuing of the Report of the +Parnell Commission, and has never been seen or heard of since. Many +applicants have claimed to have re-discovered it; but, from Sir <span class="smcap">R-ch-rd +W-bst-r</span> and Sir <span class="smcap">W-ll-m H-rc-rt</span>, to <span class="smcap">L-rd D-nr-v-n</span>, and (last and least) +Sir <span class="smcap">W. M-rr-tt</span>, all have absolutely failed to substantiate their claims. +Any Public Man, of whatever party, who can prove his possession of the +lost treasure, by making a speech embodying a judicial survey of the +Judges' Report, without party-feeling, special pleading, or paltry +spite, will, on applying personally to <i>Mr. Punch</i>, be <span class="smcap">Handsomely +Rewarded</span>!!!</p> + +<hr /> + +<h2>PUT THIS IN YOUR PIPE.</h2> + +<blockquote>[Pipe-Major <span class="smcap">McKellar</span> has thrown doubts upon the pretty and pathetic +story of "<span class="smcap">Jessie Brown</span> of Lucknow."]</blockquote> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0">Our faith to the winds you would chuck now,</p> +<p class="i0">Concerning that Legend of Lucknow.</p> +<p class="i6">That sweet Scottish girl</p> +<p class="i6">Never heard the pipes "skirl?"</p> +<p class="i0">Come! This is mere sceptical muck now!</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0">The Ross-shire Buffs' slogan I'll wager</p> +<p class="i0">Will survive many stories much sager.</p> +<p class="i6">Our faith in the tale</p> +<p class="i6">Is confirmed, and won't fail</p> +<p class="i0">At the word of a single Pipe-Major.</p> +</div></div> + +<hr /> + +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[Pg 166]</a></span> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 50%"> +<a href="images/166.png"> +<img src="images/166.png" width="100%" alt="TIME WORKS WONDERS" /></a> +<h4>TIME WORKS WONDERS.</h4> +<p>(<i>Mr. Punch's Suggestions, à propos of the recent Discussions about Mr. +Gladstone's Head.</i>)</p> +</div> + +<hr /> + +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[Pg 167]</a></span> + +<h2>MUSICAL NOTES.</h2> + +<p>I have just received <span class="smcap">Florian Pascal's</span> Music composed for <i>Tra la la +Tosca</i>, published by <span class="smcap">Joseph Williams</span> of Berners Street. Justice was not +done to it on the stage at the Royalty, but there are two <i>morçeaux</i> in +it which ought to become popular; one being a song entitled "<i>Her Eye</i>," +which, were it wedded to serious words, would be highly popular as a +contralto song, just as <span class="smcap">Sullivan's</span> charming "<i>Hush a bye Bacon</i>," in +<i>Cox and Box</i>, became "<i>Birds of the Night</i>." Then the Gavotte in this +book is as graceful and catching as the <i>Gavotte de Louis Treize</i>, and +would be in great request with orchestras and bands everywhere.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Klein's</span> <i>Musical Notes of the Year</i>, a useful and trustworthy historical +record, was sent to me, and not "de-<span class="smcap">Klein</span>'d with thanks." I have just +heard that there is a new pick-me-up called "Zingit." What it is I don't +know, and I haven't as yet come across the inevitable big advertisement; +but what I have ascertained is, that Mr. <span class="smcap">Edward Solomon</span>, who is now +wearing the diamond scarf-pin presented to him by the Guards whom he led +on to victory in their recent burlesque engagement, has composed a polka +or waltz which bears the name of "<i>Zingit</i>," and which might bear on the +wrapper, "If you can't play it, or dance it, Zing it."</p> + +<p class="regards">(<i>Signed</i>)</p> + +<p class="author"> <span class="smcap">Otto Piccolo (du Conservatoire)</span>.</p> + +<hr /><br /> + +<p>Mr. <span class="smcap">Hubert Vos</span> requests the honour of our company at his studio near +Vauxhall Bridge. Very sorry: couldn't get there. "<i>Sic</i> Vos <i>non +vobis</i>."</p><br /> + +<hr /><br /> + +<center>A "<span class="smcap">Scratch Company</span>."—A Cat Show."</center><br /> + +<hr /> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 40%"> +<a href="images/167.png"> +<img src="images/167.png" width="100%" alt="WHAT OUR ARTIST HAS TO PUT UP WITH" /></a> +<h4>WHAT OUR ARTIST HAS TO PUT UP WITH—AND HOW HE +RETALIATES.</h4> +<p><i>She.</i> "<span class="smcap">Oh, he may be a <i>Genius</i>. But I confess I don't <i>care</i> for the +society of Geniuses!</span>"</p> +<p><i>He.</i> "<span class="smcap">How very Personal of you! It's as if <i>I</i> were to confess I didn't +care for the society of Handsome Women!</span>"</p> +</div> + +<hr /> + +<h2>WHERE MARRIAGES ARE MADE.</h2> + +<p>The application for a licence to marry at St. George's, Albemarle +Street, made by the <span class="smcap">Jeune Premier</span>, Q.C., on behalf of the Rev. Dr. <span class="smcap">Ker +Gray</span>, was opposed by Canon <span class="smcap">Capel Cure</span>, of St. George's, Hanover Square, +the Hymeneal Temple <i>par excellence</i> of the Metropolis. Dr. <span class="smcap">Tristram</span>, +with traditional Shandyan caution, said he would "take time to consider +his decision." Should Dr. Time be adverse to the opponents, then will +the Minister with the sad-dog name of "<span class="smcap">Ker Gray</span>" become the Canon's +<i>bête noire</i>. If the decision be t'other way, then <span class="smcap">Ker Gray</span> may twit the +Canon with being "a regular Cure," and might compose a chant on the old +lines of</p> + +<div class="poem1"><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0">"A Cure, a Cure, a Cure, a Cure,</p> +<p class="i0">Oh isn't he a Cure!"</p> +</div></div> + +<p>While the Canon could retaliate with a parody on "<i>Old Dog Tray</i>."</p> + +<div class="poem1"><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i2">"The chapel's far too near,</p> +<p class="i2">But p'raps another year</p> +<p class="i0">May put a stop to old <span class="smcap">Ker Gray</span>."</p> +</div></div> + +<p>In the meantime, the affair being <i>sub (Punch-and-) judice</i>, we refrain +from further comment, and wish luck to both Reverend Gentlemen.</p> + +<hr /> + +<h2>SENTENCE RE-VERSED.</h2> + +<div class="poem1"><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0">'Gin a body meet a body</p> +<p class="i2">On the Queen's highway,</p> +<p class="i0">And a body kiss a body,</p> +<p class="i2">Won't a body pay?</p> +<p class="i0">Mony a lassie has a temper.</p> +<p class="i2">Mony a beak is stern;</p> +<p class="i0">At six weeks' quod, and fourteen bob,</p> +<p class="i2">The lesson's hard to learn.</p> +</div></div> + +<hr /><br /> + +<center><span class="smcap">Too Much a Matter of Course.</span>—Cruelty to Hares.</center><br /> + +<hr /> + +<h2>ESSENCE OF PARLIAMENT.</h2> + +<center>Extracted From the Diary of Toby, M.P.</center> + +<p><i>House of Commons, Monday, March 24.</i>—Prince <span class="smcap">Arthur</span> explained in speech +nearly two hours long the bearings of Irish Land Purchase Bill. In +course of his exposition the happy accident by which civilised man is +furnished with two coat-tails was strikingly illustrated. On the +Treasury Bench, behind Prince <span class="smcap">Arthur</span>, sat, on either hand, <span class="smcap">Old Morality</span> +and <span class="smcap">Jokim</span>. Supposing the Prince had had only one coat-tail, differences +might have arisen between his two right hon. friends; sure at some +period of the prolonged speech to come into personal contact if both +pulling at same rope. But the liberal sartorial arrangements which +<span class="smcap">Arthur</span> shared in common with less distinguished Members provided a +coat-tail apiece; so when idea or suggestion occurred to him, <span class="smcap">Old +Morality</span> tugged at the right-hand one, and when <span class="smcap">Jokim</span> had a happy +thought he hauled away on the left.</p> + +<p>As both their minds were seething with ideas, <span class="smcap">Arthur</span> had a lively time +of it, and complications of Bill grew in entanglement. Just as he was +assuming, for the sake of argument, that an advance of 30 millions had +been made under the Act for the Purchase of Land in Ireland, and that +seventeen years was about the average value under Lord <span class="smcap">Ashbourne's</span> Act, +there was a sudden tug of the right coat-tail; Prince leaned over in +that direction; <span class="smcap">Old Morality</span> whispered in his ear.</p> + +<p>"Exactly!" said the Prince; "I was just going to show that the +instalment of 4 per cent. on the advance of 30 millions is £1,200,000 a +year. Very well; suppose that in one year, though the hypothesis is +utterly impossible, that not one single sixpence of annuity is paid. How +would that be?" (Here the left coat-tail was observed to be violently +agitated, and <span class="smcap">Arthur</span> leaning over, <span class="smcap">Jokim</span> half-rising, eagerly explained +something.)</p> + +<p>"Precisely. My right hon. friend reminds me, what indeed I was just +about to show, that there would be first the £200,000 reserve fund; +secondly, there would be the £200,000 annual probate grant; thirdly, +£40,000 of the new Exchequer contribution, and £75,000 of the quarter +per cent, local per-centage, and there would be besides that £1,118,000 +of tenants' reserve. So that without touching the £5,000,000, which was +the landlords' fifth, and without touching a sixpence of the contingent +portion of the guarantee fund, you would have £1,633,000 to meet the +call of £1,200,000."</p> + +<p>This prospect of boundless wealth, more especially the familiar way of +putting it, making it quite a personal matter for each Member that <i>he</i> +would have £1,633,000 to meet a call of £1,200,000, was designed to have +soothing effect on audience; would, indeed, have succeeded in that +direction but for the coat-tail accompaniment.</p> + +<p>"<span class="smcap">Jokim</span>," said <span class="smcap">Harcourt</span>, "is too susceptible in his paternal feelings. We +know now who is the father of the progeny. Arranged that <span class="smcap">Balfour</span> shall +bring it in for christening ceremony; shall dandle it in his arms, and +dilate on its excellences; but everyone can tell from the excited +manner, the eager interruption, the restless hovering round the cradle, +that <span class="smcap">Jokim</span> is the father."</p> + +<p><i>Business done.</i>—Land Purchase Bill brought in.</p> + +<p><i>Tuesday.</i>—<span class="smcap">Wilfrid Lawson</span> sprang a mine to-night. House, as everyone +knows, engaged for nearly fortnight in discussing question whether it +should thank Judges for their services in connection with Parnell +Commission. A desperate struggle finally resulted in decision to pass +Vote of Thanks. <span class="smcap">Lawson</span> wants to know whether <span class="smcap">Old Morality</span> has conveyed +the thanks to the Judges; and if so, what had they said in reply? +Question put without notice. Rather<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[Pg 168]</a></span> startles <span class="smcap">Old Morality</span>. Fact is, +never occurred to him that anything had to be done in supplement of +passing Vote of Thanks. There it was; Judges might, in passing, call in +and take it home with them; or it might be forwarded, at owner's risk, +by Parcel-Post or Pickford's. Very awkward thing thus springing these +questions on a Minister. Couldn't even, right off, say where the Vote of +Thanks was. Gazed hopelessly at mass of papers on Clerk's table. Might +probably be there. Perhaps not. Vote passed some days ago; desk cleared +every morning. <span class="smcap">Old Morality</span> moved restlessly on bench; looked picture of +despair. Best thing to do, not to take notice of question; pretend not +to hear it; but House laughing and cheering; all eyes bent on him; no +escape. So, rising, holding on to table, putting on most diplomatic +manner, and speaking in solemn tones, <span class="smcap">Old Morality</span> said, "Mr. <span class="smcap">Speaker</span>, +Sir, it is no part of my duty to the <span class="smcap">Queen</span> and country to convey to +anybody a Resolution of this House."</p> + +<div class="figright" style="width: 20%"> +<a href="images/168a.png"> +<img src="images/168a.png" width="100%" alt="Where's the Vote of Thanks?" /></a> +<h4>"Where's the Vote of Thanks?"</h4> +</div> + +<p><span class="smcap">Lawson</span> up again. More cheering and laughter. Asked <span class="smcap">Speaker</span> whether <i>he</i> +had conveyed Vote of Thanks to Judges? No; <span class="smcap">Speaker</span> had had no +instructions on the matter.</p> + +<p>Where is the Vote of Thanks? Who has it in his possession? Certainly not +the Judges; one of those things nobody had thought about; various +people's business to see to it; accordingly no one done it; no wonder +Brother <span class="smcap">Day</span>, sitting on Bench, has looked forth with stony stare, his +heart consumed with secret sorrow. Whilst everyone congratulating Judges +on rare honour done to them by both Houses of Parliament, the +distinction has proved illusory. World pictured each learned Judge with +copy of Vote of Thanks, framed and glazed, hung in best parlour; and +behold! they have never had it at all!</p> + +<p>House laughed when truth dawned upon it. But it was a hollow laugh, +ill-concealing prevalent feeling of vexation and shame-facedness. Turned +with affectation of keen interest to question raised by <span class="smcap">Mundella</span> of +iniquities of Education Department in connection with School Supply of +York and Salisbury. But could not keep the thing up. Even rousing +eloquence of <span class="smcap">Hart Dyke</span>, on his defence, fell flat. Ever rose before +Members the vision of the three Judges, daily expecting receipt of +thanks which they read had been voted to them; too proud to complain of +neglect; <span class="smcap">Hannen</span> taking on a sterner aspect; <span class="smcap">Smith</span> affecting a perky +indifference; and over the solemn features of Brother <span class="smcap">Day</span> ever stealing +the deepening twilight of deferred hope. House gladly broke away from +scene and subject, getting itself Counted Out at a Quarter-past Nine.</p> + +<p><i>Thursday.</i>—"Talk about <span class="smcap">Dizzy</span>," said <span class="smcap">Harcourt</span>, perhaps not without some +tinge of envy, "if <span class="smcap">Old Morality</span> goes on in this style, <span class="smcap">Dizzy</span> won't be in +it for persiflage."</p> + +<p>House laughing so heartily, could hardly hear <span class="smcap">Harcourt's</span> whisper. <span class="smcap">John +Morley</span> began it; Lunacy Laws Consolidation Bill with 342 Clauses and 5 +Schedules gone through Committee like flash of lightning. Nothing been +seen like it since, the other night, I and seven other Members voted +Four Millions sterling in Committee on Navy Estimates. <span class="smcap">Courtney</span> put +Clauses in batches of fifty. No one said him nay. Natural supposition +was, that House in agreeing to this critical stage of important Bill +knew all about it. Every line of its 342 Clauses must be familiar to +every man present; otherwise how could he lay his hand on his heart, and +say, "Aye," when <span class="smcap">Courtney</span> asked him should he knock off another fifty +Clauses?</p> + +<p>When it was over, <span class="smcap">John Morley</span> rose, and gravely expressed hope that <span class="smcap">Old +Morality</span> would inform his friends, accustomed to say that Opposition +persist in obstruction, how this piece of legislation had advanced by +leaps and bounds. This meant to be a nasty one for <span class="smcap">Old Morality</span>, prone +to go into the country in Autumn and protest how he is hampered in +performing duty to <span class="smcap">Queen</span> and country by obstruction of Members opposite.</p> + +<p>"Ha! ha!" chuckled the Liberals, "<span class="smcap">John's</span> got him there. A hit, a +palpable hit!"</p> + +<p>But no one yet fathomed the tranquil depths of <span class="smcap">Old Morality</span>. Rose from +other side of table and, with equal gravity, promised that he would tell +all his friends "how the Opposition had given greatest possible facility +for passing the Lunacy Bill." This joke one of kind whose exquisite +flavour evaporates on paper. But House enjoyed it immensely, none more +than <span class="smcap">Old Morality</span>. For an hour after, as he sat on Treasury Bench, his +face from time to time suddenly suffused with genial smile, and his +portly body gently shook with laughter.</p> + +<p>"Ah!" said J. G. <span class="smcap">Talbot</span>, mournfully regarding him through his +spectacles; "he's thinking of the Old 'un," meaning the late joke.</p> + +<div class="figright" style="width: 15%"> +<a href="images/168b.png"> +<img src="images/168b.png" width="100%" alt="Tearing up the Tithes" /></a> +<h4>Tearing up the Tithes.</h4> +</div> + +<p>Tithes Bill on for Second Reading. <span class="smcap">Picton</span> rallied scattered forces of +Opposition, and led them to attack. Slashing speech; soaring eloquence; +trenormous energy.</p> + +<p>"Reminds me," said Admiral <span class="smcap">Field</span>, "of his grandfather, General <span class="smcap">Picton</span>, +who fell at Waterloo. Remember him very well; was in charge of Brigade +of Marines there, you know; attached to <span class="smcap">Picton's</span> Division. Never look on +Member for Leicester without thinking of my old comrade in arms;" and +the sturdy salt brushed away the reluctant tear.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Picton</span> reminded <span class="smcap">Hicks-Beach</span> of someone else—"his great predecessor in +spoliation, <span class="smcap">Henry the Eighth</span>."</p> + +<p>"Yes, but better looking," said <span class="smcap">Plunket</span>, always ready to put in a kind +word.</p> + +<p><i>Business done.</i>—Tithes Bill Debate.</p> + +<p><i>Friday Night.</i>—Tithes Debate, which has had general effect of +depressing the human mind, acted upon <span class="smcap">Cranborne</span> like electric shock. +Astonished and interested House to-night by vigorous speech delivered in +favour of Bill. With clenched hands and set teeth declared that he +"meant to fight for Established Church till death." He put it to the +piratical <span class="smcap">Picton</span> and other marauders, whether, seeing that in such case +the conflict must necessarily be prolonged, they would not do well to +seize this opportunity of settling Tithe question?</p> + +<p><i>Business done.</i>—Second Reading Tithes Bill agreed to by 289 Votes +against 164.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>"<span class="smcap">A (Not) at Home.</span>"—Last week a paragraph appeared in an illustrated +paper contradicting the report (published in an earlier issue) that a +certain titled Lady had been present at somebody's party. This novel +departure should be useful as a precedent to the <i>crême de la crême</i> of +suburban society. In future, such announcements as the following may be +expected to be frequently found in the "Fashionable Intelligence" +columns of the more aspiring of our Penny Socials:—"On Thursday last +Mr. and Mrs. <span class="smcap">Madeira Top-floor Smithies</span> entertained a small and select +party at their new residence, The Hollies, 24A, Zanzibar Terrace, +Peckham Rye, East. Amongst those present we did not notice H.S.H. the +Prince of <span class="smcap">Teck</span>, the Duke of <span class="smcap">Westminster</span>, Lady <span class="smcap">Burdett-Coutts</span>, and the +<span class="smcap">Lord Chancellor</span>. In the general circle, Lord <span class="smcap">Cross</span>, the Countess of +<span class="smcap">Clarendon</span>, and the Bishop of <span class="smcap">London</span>, were also conspicuous by their +absence. It was rumoured that neither the Duke of <span class="smcap">Cambridge</span> nor Mr. +<span class="smcap">Gladstone</span> were expected to join the company before the close of the +entertainment."</p> + +<hr /> + +<p><span class="smcap">Dinner Scarcely à la Roose.</span>—Dear <i>Mr. Punch</i>,—I am a poor man, but I +like a nice dinner. Now I have discovered how to enjoy a good meal, and +yet keep the cost of living within reasonable limits. Here is my method. +I order and eat, a lobster, two pounds of pork chops, a large-sized pot +of <i>pâté de foies gras</i>, a dressed crab, and three plates of toasted +cheese. Having finished this dainty little dinner, I find, that I can +eat nothing more for at least a week! That the pleasing fare does not +make me ill, is proved by my friends declaring that I look like a +picture of health. They do not say whether the picture is a good or bad +one—but that is a matter of detail.</p> + +<p class="regards">Yours sincerely,</p> + +<p class="author"><span class="smcap">The Founder of the More-than-Enough Society.</span> +</p> + +<hr /> + +<p><span class="smcap">Utopian.</span>—Neither noise, vibration, nor dust! That's what the <span class="smcap">Bramwells</span>, +the <span class="smcap">Watkins</span>, and the <span class="smcap">Galtons</span> claim for that partly-developed but +promising—much promising—invention of M. <span class="smcap">Girard's</span>, the <i>Chemin de Fer +Glissant</i>, or Sliding Railway. <i>What</i> a happy ideal! By all means, "Let +it slide!"</p> + +<hr /> + +<p><span class="smcap">A Chance for a New Member.</span>—"Rookeries," said Mr. <span class="smcap">Henry Lazarus</span> in his +evidence at Marylebone, "abound in St. Pancras, and it is a scandal to +civilisation that they should continue to exist." Now, Mr. <span class="smcap">Bolton</span>, M.P., +can't you have your legal and parliamentary finger in this Rook pie?</p> + +<hr /> + +<div class="figleft" style="width: 5%"> +<a href="images/168c.gif"> +<img src="images/168c.gif" width="100%" alt="Pointing finger" /></a> +</div> + +<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> + +<p> </p> +<div>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 30492 ***</div> +</body> +</html> diff --git a/30492-h/images/157.png b/30492-h/images/157.png Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..74a0c80 --- /dev/null +++ b/30492-h/images/157.png diff --git a/30492-h/images/158.png b/30492-h/images/158.png Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..4e8b079 --- /dev/null +++ b/30492-h/images/158.png diff --git a/30492-h/images/159.png b/30492-h/images/159.png Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..11b3f7a --- /dev/null +++ b/30492-h/images/159.png diff --git a/30492-h/images/160.png b/30492-h/images/160.png Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..e57fc1f --- /dev/null +++ b/30492-h/images/160.png diff --git a/30492-h/images/161.png b/30492-h/images/161.png Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..2b7f393 --- /dev/null +++ b/30492-h/images/161.png diff --git a/30492-h/images/162.png b/30492-h/images/162.png Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..2e08b40 --- /dev/null +++ b/30492-h/images/162.png diff --git a/30492-h/images/163.png b/30492-h/images/163.png Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..00edf95 --- /dev/null +++ b/30492-h/images/163.png diff --git a/30492-h/images/165.png b/30492-h/images/165.png Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..a02a0c5 --- /dev/null +++ b/30492-h/images/165.png diff --git a/30492-h/images/166.png b/30492-h/images/166.png Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..9a6b185 --- /dev/null +++ b/30492-h/images/166.png diff --git a/30492-h/images/167.png b/30492-h/images/167.png Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..d7ca2fa --- /dev/null +++ b/30492-h/images/167.png diff --git a/30492-h/images/168a.png b/30492-h/images/168a.png Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..19cdbc5 --- /dev/null +++ b/30492-h/images/168a.png diff --git a/30492-h/images/168b.png b/30492-h/images/168b.png Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..16e8800 --- /dev/null +++ b/30492-h/images/168b.png diff --git a/30492-h/images/168c.gif b/30492-h/images/168c.gif Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..8fa6bbf --- /dev/null +++ b/30492-h/images/168c.gif |
