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| author | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-14 20:05:10 -0700 |
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| committer | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-14 20:05:10 -0700 |
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diff --git a/36140-h/36140-h.htm b/36140-h/36140-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..611b618 --- /dev/null +++ b/36140-h/36140-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,1963 @@ + +<!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>Punch, 12th August, 1893.</title> + + <style type="text/css"> + + body {margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + p {text-align: justify;} + .ind {margin-left: 2em;} + .ind1 {margin-left: 5em; margin-right: 5em;} + h1,h2,h3,h4,h5,h6 {text-align: center;} + blockquote {text-align: justify; font-size: 0.9em;} + .sans {font-family: sans-serif;} + pre {font-size: 0.7em;} + .sc {font-variant: small-caps;} + .center {text-align: center;} + td.note {text-align: left; font-size: 0.9em; font-weight: normal; border: 1px dashed; padding: 1em;} + ul.none {font-size: 1.0em; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 15%; list-style-type: none; line-height: 150%} + 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%;} + ins {text-decoration: none; border-bottom: dashed 1px silver;} + p.note {margin-left: 27%; margin-right: 20%; font-size: 1.0em;} + p.author {text-align: right; margin-top: -1em; margin-right: 2em;} + 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.i10 {margin-left: 5em;} + .poem p.i12 {margin-left: 6em;} + .poem p.i14 {margin-left: 7em;} + .poem p.i16 {margin-left: 8em;} + .poem p.i18 {margin-left: 9em;} + + .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;} + + </style> +</head> +<body> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Punch, or the London Charivari, Vol. 105, +August 12th 1893, by Various + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Punch, or the London Charivari, Vol. 105, August 12th 1893 + +Author: Various + +Editor: Sir Francis Burnand + +Release Date: May 19, 2011 [EBook #36140] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PUNCH, OR THE LONDON *** + + + + +Produced by Lesley Halamek, Malcolm Farmer and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + +</pre> + + +<hr class="full" /> + +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page61" id="page61"></a>[pg 61]</span> + +<h1>PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI</h1> + +<h2>VOLUME 105, August 12th 1893</h2> + +<h3><i>edited by Sir Francis Burnand</i></h3> + +<hr class="full" /> + +<h2 class="sans">THE CLOSURE AT HOME.</h2> + +<p>Paterfamilias entered the +drawing-room at ten minutes +to six o'clock, and found the +family still undecided. There +was a pause in the conversation +when he made his appearance.</p> + +<p>"Where are we to go?" he +asked, taking out his watch. +"You have been quarrelling +for the last week, and I have +given you till this hour. So +get through your amendments +as fast as you can."</p> + +<p>"I prefer Paris," said +Materfamilias, "and I am +supported by all the girls. +We are decidedly in a majority."</p> + +<p>"Paris is simply awful at +the end of July!" cried the +eldest son. "Give you my +word, mother, the place is +impossible."</p> + +<p>"Venice would certainly be +better," said his younger +brother. "Charming place, +and you get a very decent +<i>table d'hôte</i> at <span class="sc">Danieli's</span>."</p> + +<p>"Oh, Venice is too dreadful +just now!" exclaimed Aunt +<span class="sc">Matilda</span>. "If <i>we</i> are to go +with you, we certainly can't +travel there. Besides, there's +the cholera all over the Continent. +Now Oban would be +nice."</p> + +<p>"Are you speaking seriously?" +asked Cousin <span class="sc">Jane</span>. +"Scotland never agrees with +me, but Cairo would be +perfect."</p> + +<p>"Do you think so, my dear +girl?" put in Uncle <span class="sc">John</span>. +"I fancy you are making a +mistake. Egypt is very well +in the winter, but it is fearfully +hot in August. Now +they tell me Killarney is +simply delightful at this +season."</p> + +<p>"Ireland! No, thank you!" +exclaimed <span class="sc">Reginald</span>. "We +have had enough of Home +Rule on this side of the +Channel to go across to find it +on the other. No; give me +Spain, or even Russia."</p> + +<p>The hands of the clock were +close upon the hour, but still +there was a minute or so to +spare.</p> + +<p>"Russia indeed!" snapped +out <span class="sc">Priscilla</span>. "Who ever +would go to Russia? But +people do tell me that Chicago +is well worth seeing, and——"</p> + +<p>At this moment the clock +struck six.</p> + +<p>"Time's up," cried Paterfamilias. +"We will all go to +Herne Bay."</p> + +<p>And they did.</p> + +<hr class="medium" /> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 450px;"><a href="images/061a-1000.png"><img src="images/061a-450.png" width="450" height="479" alt="THE TEST OF TRUE GENIUS." /></a> +<h2 class="sans">THE TEST OF TRUE GENIUS.</h2> + +<p><i>Pictor Ignotus Number One.</i> "<span class="sc">Yes; I rather flatter myself there +are precious few of my Contemporaries who care about <i>my</i> Work!</span>"</p> + +<p><i>Pictor Ignotus Number Two</i> (<i>not to be beaten</i>). "<span class="sc">By Jove! I +rather +flatter myself I've got the Pull of you <i>there</i>, Old Man! Why, +There's <i>Nobody</i> cares about <i>Mine</i>!</span>"</p></div> + +<hr class="medium" /> + +<h3>The New Atomic Theory.</h3> + +<p class="center">(<i>According to the New Journalism</i>).</p> + +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<p>Mankind are debtors to two mighty creditors,</p> +<p>Omniscient Science, and infallible Editors.</p> +<p>Nature is summed in principles and particles;</p> +<p>The moral world in Laws and Leading Articles!</p> + </div> </div> + +<hr class="medium" /> + +<h2>CRICKET ACROSS THE CHANNEL.</h2> + +<p>We believe that our lively neighbours, the French, having seen +that there is a chance of some alteration being made in the rules of +cricket in England, have determined to suggest some changes on +their own account. We give the first list of proposals:—</p> + +<div class="figleft" style="width: 150px;"><a href="images/061b-300.png"><img src="images/061b-150.png" width="150" height="184" alt="" /></a></div> + +<p>1. The ball in future is to be made of india-rubber.</p> + +<p>2. Armour to be allowed to the striker, so +as to prevent accidents from the ball.</p> + +<p>3. The umpires to be henceforth experienced +surgeons, so that their medical services may +be available for the wounded.</p> + +<p>4. Camp-stools to be permitted to the long-stop, +and other hard-worked members of the +field.</p> + +<p>5. Fielders expected to run after a rapidly-driven +ball, to be allowed to follow the object +on bicycles.</p> + +<p>6. The wicket-keeper to have a small portable fortress in front of +him to keep him out of danger.</p> + +<p>7. The bats to be made of the same materials as those used in +lawn-tennis.</p> + +<p>8. The game to commence with the "luncheon interval," to be +employed in discussing a <i>déjeuner à la fourchette</i>.</p> + +<p>9. The uniform of the cricketer in future to consist of a horn, a +hunting-knife, jockey-cap and fishing-boots, in fact the costume of +the earliest French exponent of the game.</p> + +<p>10. The outside to have the right to declare the game closed when +fatigued.</p> + +<p>11. A band of music to be engaged to play a popular programme. +A flourish of trumpets to announce the triumph of the striker when +he succeeds in hitting the ball.</p> + +<p>12. Those who take part in the great game to be decorated with a +medal. All future matches to be commemorated with clasps, to +denote the player's bravery.</p> + +<p>Should these reforms be adopted by the M. C. C., there seems little +doubt that the national game of England will receive a fresh lease of +popularity in the land that faces Albion.</p> + +<hr class="medium" /> + +<h2>THE LATEST CRISIS.</h2> + +<blockquote><p> +[Mr. <span class="sc">Bartley</span> protested in the House of Commons against Mr. W. +<span class="sc">O'Brien's</span> conduct in dining in the House with strangers at a table reserved +for Members. Mr. <span class="sc">O'Brien</span> explained that Mr. <span class="sc">Austen Chamberlain</span> had +taken a table which he (Mr. <span class="sc">O'Brien</span>) had previously reserved. The +question is under the consideration of the Kitchen Committee.] +</p></blockquote> + +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<p>A crisis! A crisis! The man is a fool</p> +<p>Who desires at this moment to talk of Home Rule.</p> +<p>Though we know that in Egypt a something is rotten,</p> +<p>The intrigues of young <span class="sc">Abbas</span> are straightway forgotten;</p> +<p>And we think just as much of the woes of Siam</p> +<p>As we care for that coin of small value—a <i>dam</i>.</p> +<p>For a crisis has come, and the House is unable</p> +<p>To detach its attention from questions of table.</p> +<p>Their tongues and their brains all the Members exhaust in</p> +<p>Discussing the rights of <span class="sc">O'Brien</span> and <span class="sc">Austen</span>.</p> +<p>They debate in an access of anger and gloom</p> +<p>As to who took from which what was kept, and for whom.</p> +<p>The letters they wrote, the retorts they made tartly</p> +<p>Are detailed—gracious Powers preserve us—by <span class="sc">Bartley</span>,</p> +<p>Who can bend—only statesmen are formed for such feats—</p> +<p>His mind, which is massive, to questions of seats,</p> +<p>And discuss with a zest which is equal to <span class="sc">Tanner's</span>,</p> +<p>The absorbing details of a matter of manners.</p> +<p>Mr. <span class="sc">Bartley</span> you like to be heard than to hear</p> +<p>Far more, but, forgive me, a word in your ear.</p> +<p>Though we greatly rejoice when all records are cut</p> +<p>By your steam-hammer mind in thus smashing a nut,</p> +<p>Yet we think it were well if the Kitchen could settle</p> +<p>In private this question of pot <i>versus</i> kettle.</p> +<p>And in future, when dog-like men fight for a bone,</p> +<p>Take a hint, Mr. <span class="sc">Bartley</span>, and leave them alone.</p> + </div> </div> + +<hr class="medium" /> + +<p class="ind1"><span class="sc">Latest from the National Boxing Saloon</span> (<i>with the kind +regards of the</i> <span class="sc">Speaker</span>).—"The nose has it, and so have the +eyes!"</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page62" id="page62"></a>[pg 62]</span> + +<hr class="medium" /> + +<h3 class="sans">SAINT IZAAK AND HIS VOTARIES.</h3> + +<p class="center"><i>Mr. Punch's Tercentenary Tribute to the Author of "The Compleat Angler."</i></p> + +<p class="center"> +[August 9th this year is the 300th anniversary of the birth, in the ancient house at Stafford, of <span class="sc">Izaak Walton</span>.] +</p> +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;"><a href="images/062-1200.png"><img src="images/062-400.png" width="400" height="478" alt="SAINT IZAAK AND HIS VOTARIES." /></a> +</div> + +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<p>Good <span class="sc">Izaak</span> of the diction quaint,</p> +<p class="i2">The calendar holds many a fellow</p> +<p>Less worthy to be dubbed a saint</p> +<p class="i2">(For gentle heart and wisdom mellow)</p> +<p>Than thou, the Angler's genial guide</p> +<p>By wandering brook and river wide.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>"I care not, I, to fish in seas,"</p> +<p class="i2">So chirped <span class="sc">Will Basse</span>, thy favourite singer,</p> +<p>"Fresh rivers best my mind do please."</p> +<p class="i2">Bard-loving quoter, brave back-bringer</p> +<p>Of England's pastoral scenes and songs,</p> +<p>All England's praise to thee belongs.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>Thy Book bewitches more than those</p> +<p class="i2">Who are sworn "Brothers of the Angle."</p> +<p>Scents of fresh pastures, wilding rose,</p> +<p class="i2">All trailing flowers that intertangle</p> +<p>In England's hedgerows, seem to fill</p> +<p>Its pages and our pulses thrill.</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page63" id="page63"></a>[pg 63]</span> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>We see the stretch "up Totnam Hil,"</p> +<p class="i2">Toward the "Thatcht House" that fresh May morning;</p> +<p>We hear <span class="sc">Viator</span> praise the skill</p> +<p class="i2">That he was first inclined to scorning;</p> +<p>We mark the Master's friendly proffer</p> +<p>Change him to votary from scoffer.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>Those "many grave and serious men,"</p> +<p class="i2">He chid as "men of sowr complexions,"</p> +<p>If they resist his graphic pen,</p> +<p class="i2">His pastorals sweet, his quaint reflections,</p> +<p>Must have indeed mere souls of earth,</p> +<p>To beauty blind, untuned to mirth.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>The "poor-rich-men" he pitied so</p> +<p class="i2">All Anglers, and wise hearts, must pity.</p> +<p>His song's queer "trollie lollie loe,"</p> +<p class="i2">Sounds cheerily as the blackbird's ditty,</p> +<p>To men in populous city pent,</p> +<p>Who know the Angler's calm content.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>And even those who know it not,</p> +<p class="i2">Nor care—poor innocents!—to know it,</p> +<p>Whom ne'er the Fisher's favoured lot</p> +<p class="i2">Has thrilled as sportsman, fired as poet,</p> +<p>May love to turn the leaves, and halt on</p> +<p>The quaint conceits of honest <span class="sc">Walton</span>.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>The man whose only "quill" 's a pen,</p> +<p class="i2">Who keeps no rod and tackle handy,</p> +<p>May hear thy "merry river" when</p> +<p class="i2">"It bubbles, dances, and grows sandy."</p> +<p>May sit beneath thy beech, and wish</p> +<p>To catch thy voice, if not thy fish:</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>May love to sit or stroll with thee,</p> +<p class="i2">Amidst the grassy water-meadows;</p> +<p>The culverkeys and cowslips see,</p> +<p class="i2">Dancing in summer's lights and shadows;</p> +<p>And watch yon youngster gathering stocks</p> +<p>Of lilies and of lady-smocks:</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>To hear thy milkmaid, <span class="sc">Maudlin</span>, troll</p> +<p class="i2">Choice morsels from <span class="sc">Kit Marlow</span> sweetly;</p> +<p>And <span class="sc">Maudlin's</span> mother,—honest soul,</p> +<p class="i2">Whose "golden age" has fled so fleetly!—</p> +<p>Respond with <span class="sc">Raleigh's</span> answering rhyme</p> +<p>Of wisdom past its active prime:</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>To take a draught of sound old ale—</p> +<p class="i2">What tipple wholesomer or sweeter?—</p> +<p>At the old ale-house in the vale,</p> +<p class="i2">With <span class="sc">Corydon</span> and brother <span class="sc">Peter</span>;</p> +<p>And share the "Musick"'s mellow bout,</p> +<p>As they at supper shared the trout.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>Then to that cleanly room and sweet—</p> +<p class="i2">After a gay good night to all—</p> +<p>Lavender scent about the sheet,</p> +<p class="i2">And "ballads stuck about the wall,"</p> +<p>And fall on sleep devoid of sorrow,</p> +<p>With fair dreams filled of sport to-morrow.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>What wonder <span class="sc">Walton's</span> work has charmed</p> +<p class="i2">Three centuries? That his bait has captured</p> +<p>The grey recluse, the boy switch-armed,</p> +<p class="i2">The sage, the statesman, bard enraptured,</p> +<p>Gay girl—are fish her only spoil?—</p> +<p>And grave Thames-haunting son of toil!</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>Thy votaries, good Saint <span class="sc">Izaak</span>, are</p> +<p class="i2">"All who love <i>quietnesse</i>, and <i>vertue</i>."</p> +<p>Is there on whom such praises jar?</p> +<p class="i2">Well, join for once—it scarce can hurt you—</p> +<p>In <i>Punch's</i> Tribute; fortune wishing</p> +<p>To gentle souls who "go a-fishing!"</p> + </div> </div> + +<hr class="medium" /> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;"><a href="images/063-1500.png"><img src="images/063-600.png" width="600" height="403" alt="GUESSES AT TRUTH." /></a> +<h3 class="sans">GUESSES AT TRUTH.</h3> + +<p><i>Mr. Laidislaw.</i> "<span class="sc">Handsome woman our Hostess—don't you think? By the +bye, what do you suppose her Age is?</span>"</p> + +<p><i>Miss St. Cyr.</i> "<span class="sc">Well, I should fancy, what the Illustrated Biographies +call 'Present Day!</span>'"</p></div> + +<hr class="medium" /> + +<h2>"HERE'S TO THE CLIENT."</h2> + +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<p>Here's to the client who makes his own will,</p> +<p class="i2">And here's to his friends who dispute it;</p> +<p>Here's to the case which is drawn up with skill,</p> +<p class="i2">And the time that it takes to refute it.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>Here's to the felon whose crimes are a score,</p> +<p class="i2">And here's to the wretch with but one, Sirs;</p> +<p>Fraudulent trustees, directors galore,</p> +<p class="i2">And the various things that they've done, Sirs.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>Here's to the costs which will mount up apace,</p> +<p class="i2">When the action comes on for a hearing,</p> +<p>"Retainers," "refreshers," and all of their race,</p> +<p class="i2">Which they lavish on us for appearing.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>Here's to the Law, with its hand just and strong,</p> +<p class="i2">Which has grown from the earliest ages;</p> +<p>And here's to this lay, which we hope's not too long</p> +<p class="i2">For <i>Punch</i> to put into his pages.</p> + </div> </div> + +<hr class="medium" /> + +<p class="ind"><span class="sc">New Version of an Old Saying</span> (<i>adapted +for exclusive swells who cannot enjoy even a +Sport when it becomes "so common, don't-cha!"</i>).—What +is Everybody's pleasure is +Nobody's pleasure!</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page64" id="page64"></a>[pg 64]</span> + +<hr class="medium" /> + +<h3 class="sans">TO A SWISS BAROMETER.</h3> + +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<p>Oh, optimistic instrument,</p> +<p class="i2">No other ever seeks</p> +<p>To raise one's hopes—benevolent</p> +<p class="i2">You always show <i>Beau fixe</i>!</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>Though meteorologic swells</p> +<p class="i2">Predict wet days for weeks,</p> +<p>Your well-intentioned pointer tells</p> +<p class="i2">Of nothing but <i>Beau fixe</i>.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>How sweet, when in the dewy morn—</p> +<p class="i2">So dewy!—up the peaks</p> +<p>We start through drizzle all forlorn,</p> +<p class="i2">To read again <i>Beau fixe</i>.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>It makes us think of sunny lands,</p> +<p class="i2">Where weather has no freaks,</p> +<p>To see, they're always so, your hands</p> +<p class="i2">Both point to that <i>Beau fixe</i>.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>And though we're sodden to the skin,</p> +<p class="i2">Through coat and vest and breeks,</p> +<p>You did not mean to take us in</p> +<p class="i2">In spite of your <i>Beau fixe</i>.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>We tramp, expecting soon to see</p> +<p class="i2">In that grey sky some streaks;</p> +<p>Ah no, it's fixed as fixed can be,</p> +<p class="i2">As fixed as your <i>Beau fixe</i>.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>No matter, we get used to rain,</p> +<p class="i2">And mop our streaming cheeks,</p> +<p>Quite sure, when we get home again,</p> +<p class="i2">You cannot say <i>Beau fixe</i>.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>At last, all soaked, we stagger in—</p> +<p class="i2">One's clothing simply leaks—</p> +<p>And still you say, through thick and thin,</p> +<p class="i2">Unchangeably <i>Beau fixe</i>.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>We change, although you don't; no thread</p> +<p class="i2">Is dry on us; small creeks</p> +<p>Form where we stand, all drenched from head</p> +<p class="i2">To foot. Blow your <i>Beau fixe</i>!</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>This beastly weather might have riled</p> +<p class="i2">The philosophic Greeks;</p> +<p>It makes us simple Britons wild,</p> +<p class="i2">Combined with your <i>Beau fixe</i>.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>We tell the landlord we must go—</p> +<p class="i2">Poor man, he rather piques</p> +<p>Himself upon the weather, so</p> +<p class="i2">Incessantly <i>Beau fixe</i>.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>"<i>Ah, non, ça va changer ce soir!</i>"</p> +<p class="i2">Thus hopefully he speaks,</p> +<p>"<i>Si Monsieur voulait bien voir</i></p> +<p class="i2"><i>Le</i> <ins title="T.N.: Original reads 'barometre'"><i>baromètre</i></ins>—<i>Beau fixe!</i>"</p> + </div> </div> + +<hr class="medium" /> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width:600px;"><a href="images/064-800.png"><img src="images/064-350.png" width="350" height="477" alt="AN AUTHORITY ON THE THEORY AND PRACTICE OF THE 'BUFFER STATE'" /></a> +<h4>AN AUTHORITY ON THE THEORY AND PRACTICE OF THE "BUFFER STATE"!!</h4></div> + +<hr class="medium" /> + +<h4>Adapted.</h4> + +<p class="center">(<i>To the Unionist Needs of the +Moment.</i>)</p> + +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<p>Other men have many faults,</p> +<p class="i4">Mr. <span class="sc">Gladstone</span> has but two;</p> +<p>There's nothing wise that he can say,</p> +<p class="i4">and nothing right that he can do.</p> + </div> </div> + +<hr class="medium" /> + +<p>In a recent case, Mr. <span class="sc">Lane</span>, +the magistrate, is reported to +have informed an inquiring +husband, "If your wife turns +you out she is not bound to find +you a home; but if <i>you</i> turn +your wife out you <i>are</i> bound to +find <i>her</i> a home." This suggests +a new Charity, "The Home for +Turned-out Wives." These ladies +would be seen driving out in +well-appointed traps, and gain +a new status in Society as being +"uncommonly well-turned-out" +wives.</p> + +<hr class="medium" /> + +<h2>ANOTHER SCENE AT THE PLAY.</h2> + +<h4>(<i>That never should be tolerated.</i>)</h4> + +<p><span class="sc">Scene</span>—<i>Auditorium of a Fashionable Theatre. Vast majority of +the audience deeply interested in the action and dialogue of an +excellent piece. Enter a party of Lady Emptyheads into a +Private Box.</i></p> + +<p><i>First Emptyhead (taking off her wraps).</i> I told you there was no +necessity to hurry away from dinner. You see they are getting on +very well without us.</p> + +<p><i>Second Empt. (seating herself in front of the box).</i> Yes. And it's +so much pleasanter to chat than to listen. This piece, they tell me, +is full of clever dialogue—so satisfactory to people who like that sort +of thing.</p> + +<p><i>Third Empt. (looking round the house with an opera-glass).</i> Why +scarcely a soul in the place we know. Well, I suppose everybody is +leaving town. Stay, is that Mrs. <span class="sc">Evergreen Toffy</span>?</p> + +<p><i>Fourth Empt. (also using her glasses).</i> Why, yes. I wish we +could make her see us.</p> + +<p><i>First Empt.</i> Haven't you noticed that you never can attract +attention when you want to? Isn't it provoking?</p> + +<p><i>Second Empt.</i> Oh, terribly; and there is Captain <span class="sc">Dashalong</span>. +Why, I thought he was at Aldershot.</p> + +<p><i>Third Empt.</i> Oh, they always give them leave about this time of +the year.</p> + +<p><i>Rest of Audience (sternly).</i> Hush! S-s-s-h-s-h!</p> + +<p><i>Fourth Empt.</i> I wonder what's the piece about.</p> + +<p><i>Third Empt.</i> Oh, it doesn't in the least matter. Sure to be +sparkling. Do you like that woman's hair?</p> + +<p><i>Fourth Empt.</i> Scarcely. It's the wrong shade. How can people +make such frights of themselves!</p> + +<p><i>First Empt.</i> I wonder if this is the Second Act, or the First!</p> + +<p><i>Third Empt.</i> What does it matter! I never worry about a +piece, for I know I shall see all about it afterwards in the +papers.</p> + +<p><i>Rest of Audience (with increased sternness).</i> Hush! S-s-s-h-s-h!</p> + +<p><i>Second Empt.</i> I always come to this theatre because the chairs are +comfortable. What is the good of going to the play unless you can +enjoy yourself?</p> + +<p><i>Third Empt.</i> Quite so. And it's much better fun without one's +husband, isn't it?</p> + +<p><i>First Empt.</i> Of course. I never bring mine, because he always +goes to sleep! So disrespectful to the actresses and actors!</p> + +<p><i>Second Empt.</i> Yes. Of course, one ought to listen to what's going +on, even if you don't care what it's all about.</p> + +<p><i>Fourth Empt.</i> Quite so. Not that it isn't pleasant to look round +the house.</p> + +<p><i>Rest of Audience (angrier than ever).</i> Hush! S-s-s-h-s-h!</p> + +<p><i>Third Empt.</i> Yes, I often think that this side of the curtain is +quite as amusing as the other.</p> + +<p><i>Fourth Empt.</i> I wonder what they are doing on the stage? Oh, I +see that the Act is nearly over! Well, I daresay it has been very +amusing.</p> + +<p><i>Rest of Audience (furious).</i> Hush! Hush! Hush!</p> + +<p><i>First Empt.</i> There descends the curtain! By the way, what a +noise those people in the pit have been making! I wonder what it +was all about?</p> + +<p><i>Second Empt.</i> I haven't the faintest notion. However, when the +play begins again, I hope they won't make any more noise. It is so +disrespectful to the Audience.</p> + +<p><i>First Empt.</i> And the Company. Why can't people behave themselves +in a theatre?</p> + +<p><i>Second, Third, and Fourth Empt. (in chorus).</i> Ah yes! Why +can't they?</p> + +<p>[<i>Scene closes in upon a renewal of chatter upon the raising of the +Curtain on another Act.</i></p> + +<hr class="medium" /> + +<p class="ind">"<span class="sc">Give a <i>Day</i> a Bad Name and</span>——."—It is stated that the day +of the disgraceful Donnybrook in the House of Commons has been +nicknamed "Collar Day," because Mr. <span class="sc">Hayes Fisher</span> seized +Mr. <span class="sc">Logan</span> by the collar, and Mr. <span class="sc">Chamberlain</span> "collared" +Mr. <span class="sc">O'Brien's</span> table in the dining-room. This is all very well in +its way, but would not "<i>Choler</i> Day" be more appropriate and +intelligible?</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page65" id="page65"></a>[pg 65]</span> + +<hr class="medium" /> + +<h2 class="sans">A DREAM-BOOK</h2> + +<h3><i>For Would-be Travellers.</i></h3> + +<p class="ind1">If you dream of—</p> + +<ul class="none"> +<li><i>Antwerp.</i> Remember the +Reubens and forget the passage +over.</li> + +<li><i>Boulogne.</i> Remember the +Casino and forget the Port.</li> + +<li><i>Calais.</i> Remember the Restaurant +at the station and +forget the dull surroundings.</li> + +<li><i>Dieppe.</i> Remember the +Plage and forget the occasional +gales.</li> + +<li><i>Etretat.</i> Remember the +sands and forget the prices.</li> + +<li><i>Florence.</i> Remember the +pictures and forget the heat.</li> + +<li><i>Geneva.</i> Remember the lake +and forget the city.</li> + +<li><i>Heidelberg.</i> Remember the +castle and forget the climbing.</li> + +<li><i>Interlachen.</i> Remember the +<ins title="T.N.: The author may have had something else in mind, besides the mountain (Jungfrau)">Jung Frau</ins> and forget the tourists.</li> + +<li><i>Japan.</i> Remember the interesting +associations and forget +the length of the journey.</li> + +<li><i>Lisburn.</i> Remember that it +is little known and forget that +it is not worth seeing.</li> + +<li><i>Madrid.</i> Remember that +you can get there in two days +and forget that you will regret +the time you spend upon the +trip.</li> + +<li><i>Naples.</i> Remember that +you should see the Bay and +forget that you are expected +to die immediately afterwards.</li> + +<li><i>Paris.</i> Remember that it +is always pleasant and forget +that the exception is during +August.</li> + +<li><i>Quebec.</i> Remember it's in +Canada and forget that it's +the least pleasing place in +America.</li> + +<li><i>Rome.</i> Remember its objects +of interest and forget its +fever.</li> + +<li><i>Strasbourg.</i> Remember that +it has a Cathedral and forget +that the clock is a fraud.</li> + +<li><i>Turin.</i> Remember that it +might be quite worth the +journey and forget that it +isn't.</li> + +<li><i>Venice.</i> Remember its canals +and forget its odours.</li> + +<li><i>Vichy.</i> Remember that +there is a good hotel and forget +that you have been there +a dozen times before.</li> + +<li><i>Wiesbaden.</i> Remember the +glories of its past and forget +the sadness of its present.</li> + +<li><i>Zurich.</i> Remember that it +is completely abroad and forget +that there's no place like +home.</li> +</ul> +<hr class="medium" /> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 400px;"><a href="images/065-1000.png"><img src="images/065-320.png" width="320" height="490" alt="GOOD RESOLUTIONS." /></a> +<h3 class="sans">GOOD RESOLUTIONS.</h3> + +<p><i>Blenkinsop (on a Friend's Yacht) soliloquises.</i> "<span class="sc">I know one thing, if +ever I'm rich enough to keep a Yacht, I shall spend the Money +in Horses.</span>"</p></div> + +<hr class="medium" /> + +<h3>ONLY THEIR PLAY!</h3> + +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<p>Abnormal natures, morbid motives! Yes!</p> +<p>These things, upon the stage, perhaps impress.</p> +<p>Monstrosities, not true men's hearts, nor women's.</p> +<p>Trolls, with a touch of the <i>delirium tremens</i>,</p> +<p>Neurotic neurospasts, puppets whose wires</p> +<p>Are pulled by morbid dreams and mad desires;</p> +<p>Not men and women 'midst our world's temptations,</p> +<p>But fevered phantasy's bizarre creations.</p> +<p>Despite <i>Solness</i> and <i>Mrs. Tanqueray</i>,</p> +<p>"People don't do these things"—except <i>in play</i>!</p> + </div> </div> + +<hr class="medium" /> + +<p><span class="sc">As in a Glass Darkly.</span>—Grubby +and grovelling "Realists" +boast that they only +"hold the mirror up to Nature." +Perhaps! But when their particular +"mirror" happens to +be—as it commonly is—dirty +and distorting, Nature, like +the victim of a bad looking-glass +at a country inn, is +taken at a disadvantage. +There are mirrors which make +a man look a monster, but then +the monstrosity is not in the +man but the mirror.</p> + +<hr class="medium" /> + +<h2>TIMON ON BIMETALLISM.</h2> + +<h4>(<i>Adapted from Shakspeare.</i>)</h4> + +<blockquote><p> +["He advocates bimetallism with the passionate +ardour of a prophet promulgating a new revelation. +On most subjects he is cool, analytical, <i>and +perhaps a little cynical</i>; but on this subject he is +an enthusiast."—<i>The Times on Mr. Balfour's +Speech about Bimetallism.</i>] +</p></blockquote> + +<p class="center"><i>Timon of London, loquitur</i>:—</p> + +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<p class="i10"> The learned pate</p> +<p>Ducks to the golden fool; all is oblique;</p> +<p>There's nothing level in our currency</p> +<p>But monometallism! Gold doth lord</p> +<p>Great lands, societies, and throngs of men.</p> +<p>That the sun rounds the earth, that earth's a disc,</p> +<p>Are foolish fads that <span class="sc">Timon</span> much disdains</p> +<p>As duping dull mankind. But will they rank</p> +<p><i>My</i> fad—Bimetallism—along with such?</p> +<p>I seek a dual standard; gold alone</p> +<p>Is a most operant poison! What is here?</p> +<p>Gold? yellow, precious, glittering gold? No, gods,</p> +<p>I am no aureate votarist. Silver seems</p> +<p>To me, and to wise <span class="sc">Walsh</span>, a fair twin-standard</p> +<p>Fit to set up, that variable values</p> +<p>May find stability in dual change,</p> +<p><i>With</i> a fixed ratio, which the world must find,</p> +<p>Or our one standard, like a pirate's flag,</p> +<p>Will lead us to disaster. Monometallism</p> +<p>Is—Monomania. This yellow slave</p> +<p>Will break, not knit, our Commerce. I can be</p> +<p>Cool, analytical, even cynical</p> +<p>On trifles—such as Separatism's sin,</p> +<p>Or County Council Crime; but this thing stirs</p> +<p>My tepid blood, e'en as Statistics warm</p> +<p>The chilly soul of <span class="sc">Goschen</span>. Come, curst gold,</p> +<p>Thou common ore of mankind, that putt'st odds</p> +<p>Among the rout of nations, I will make thee</p> +<p>Take thy right place! Thou mak'st my heart beat quick,</p> +<p>But yet I'll bury thee: thou'lt go, strong thief,</p> +<p>Orthodox keepers of thee cannot stand</p> +<p>Against a passionate prophet's promulgation</p> +<p>Of a new economic revelation.</p> +<p>"Put up your gold!" But put up silver, too,</p> +<p>(As <span class="sc">Walsh</span>, and <span class="sc">Grenfell</span>, and Sage <span class="sc">Chaplin</span> urge),</p> +<p>Or banded Europe—some day—shall smash up</p> +<p>Our City to financial chaos. Aye!</p> +<p>I may talk lightly about trivial things,</p> +<p>And cynically smile on twaddle's trifles,—</p> +<p>Union of hearts, optimist ecstasies,</p> +<p>Fervours, and faiths, the breeks of prisoned Pats,</p> +<p>Coercion's bondage and such bagatelles—</p> +<p>But on this Titan theme—Bimetallism—</p> +<p><span class="sc">Timon</span> is in hot earnest!</p> + </div> </div> + +<hr class="medium" /> + +<h3>A Short Way with Wasps.</h3> + +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<p>A plague of wasps infests the South</p> +<p class="i2">In consequence of the hot season!—</p> +<p>Humph! Is it torrid heat and drouth</p> +<p class="i2">Deprive our Commons of cool reason?</p> +<p>A plague of wasps infests the House!</p> +<p class="i2">Its managers the matter mull, for</p> +<p>They have not (like poor <span class="sc">Hodge</span>) the <i>nous</i></p> +<p class="i2">To smoke pests out with (moral) sulphur!</p> +<p>To check <span class="sc">Hayes Fisher's</span> style, or <span class="sc">Tim's</span> tone,</p> +<p><span class="sc">Mellor</span> tries treacle; he needs brimstone.</p> + </div> </div> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page66" id="page66"></a>[pg 66]</span> + +<hr class="medium" /> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;"><a href="images/066-1500.png"><img src="images/066-600.png" width="600" height="354" alt="A LESSON." /></a> +<h2 class="sans">A LESSON.</h2> + +<p><i>Father</i> (<i>on receiving Bill for Luncheon at one of our very modern +London Restaurants</i>). "<span class="sc">Hallo! What!! Over Two Guineas for +merely——! Why, hang it——!</span>"</p> + +<p><i>His Son</i> (<i>small Etonian</i>). "<span class="sc">Oh, well never mind, Father. It's a +Thing to do <i>Once</i>, and we won't do it again!</span>"</p></div> + +<hr class="medium" /> + +<h2>THE STORMY PETREL.</h2> + +<blockquote><p> +["This bird has long been celebrated for the +manner in which it passes over the waves, pattering +with its webbed feet and flapping its wings so +as to keep itself just above the surface. It thus +traverses the ocean with wonderful ease, the billows +rolling beneath its feet and passing away +under the bird without in the least disturbing it."—<i>Wood's +Popular Natural History.</i>] +</p></blockquote> + +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<p>Only a Petrel, I,</p> +<p>Telling the storm is nigh;</p> +<p>Fleet o'er the waves I fly,</p> +<p class="i2">When skies look stormy.</p> +<p>When things are calm and slow,</p> +<p>I 'midst Brum rocks lie low;</p> +<p>But when wild breezes blow</p> +<p class="i2">Men may look for me.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>Lured from my Midland home,</p> +<p>When gales begin to roam</p> +<p>Proudly I skim the foam,</p> +<p class="i2">Flappering and pattering!</p> +<p>I with the airiest ease</p> +<p>Traverse the angriest seas</p> +<p>Round the wild Hebrides</p> +<p class="i2">Bellowing and battering.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>But the wild Irish coast</p> +<p>Suits my strong flight the most.</p> +<p>Breeze-baffling wings I boast,</p> +<p class="i2">Nothing disturbs me.</p> +<p>Cool 'midst the tempest's crash,</p> +<p>Swift through the foam I dash,</p> +<p>Wind flout or lightning flash</p> +<p class="i2">Scares not, nor curbs me.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>Sea-birds are silly things,</p> +<p>Squat bodies, stunted wings.</p> +<p>Where is the bard who sings</p> +<p class="i2">Penguin or puffin,</p> +<p>Grebe, guillemot, or gull?</p> +<p>Oh, the winged noodles, null,</p> +<p>In timid flocks and dull,</p> +<p class="i2">Squattin' and stuffin'!</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>I, like the albatross,</p> +<p>Love on the winds to toss,</p> +<p>Where gales and currents cross</p> +<p class="i2">My fodder finding.</p> +<p>Let Gulls and Boobies rest</p> +<p>Safe in a sheltered nest,</p> +<p>I'm bold the breeze to breast</p> +<p class="i2">Tamer fowl blinding.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>Only a Petrel, I,</p> +<p>Calm in a calm I lie,</p> +<p>But when 'neath darkening sky</p> +<p class="i2">Strife lifteth her face,</p> +<p>When the red lightnings glare,</p> +<p>Then, from my rocky lair</p> +<p>Darting, I cleave the air,</p> +<p class="i2">Skimming sea's surface.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>Some swear the storm I raise;</p> +<p>That's superstition's craze;</p> +<p>But on tempestuous days,</p> +<p class="i2">Wild, wet, and windy,</p> +<p>Herald of storm I fly.</p> +<p>Only a Petrel, I,</p> +<p>But when my form you spy,—</p> +<p class="i2">Look out for shindy.</p> + </div> </div> + +<hr class="medium" /> + +<p class="ind">"<span class="sc">Benefits Forgot.</span>"—This is the title of +a serial in <i>Scribners'</i>. Many over-strict persons +will not read it, being under the impression +that the story is essentially theatrical. +A natural mistake. Nothing in an actor's +life could give occasion for more bitter +reflection than the memory of "Benefits +Forgot," especially after they had been got +up and advertised at great personal expense.</p> + +<hr class="medium" /> + +<h2>TO A FINE WOMAN.</h2> + +<h4>(<i>By a Little Man.</i>)</h4> + +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<p>"Can my eyes reach thy size?"</p> +<p class="i2">Asked the Lilliputian poet,</p> +<p>As I've read. Can my head</p> +<p class="i2">Reach your shoulder? It's below it.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>Women all are so tall</p> +<p class="i2">Nowadays, but you're gigantic;</p> +<p>One so vast, sweeping past,</p> +<p class="i2">Makes my five feet four feel frantic.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>Each girl tries exercise,</p> +<p class="i2">Rows, rides, runs, golf, cricket, tennis,</p> +<p>Games for an Olympian—</p> +<p class="i2">Greek Olympia, not "Venice."</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>Stalks and shoots, climbs in boots</p> +<p class="i2">Like a navvy's not a dandy's,</p> +<p>Ice-axe takes, records breaks—</p> +<p class="i2">If not neck—on Alps or Andes.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>Alps in height, girls affright</p> +<p class="i2">Men, like me, of puny figure;</p> +<p>They are too tall, but you</p> +<p class="i2">Are preposterously bigger.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>At this dance, if I glance</p> +<p class="i2">Round the room, I see I'm smallest;</p> +<p>You instead are a head</p> +<p class="i2">Over girls and men, you're tallest.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>As a pair, at a fair,</p> +<p class="i2">Any showman might produce us;</p> +<p>Dwarf I'd do, giant you——</p> +<p class="i2">What! They want to introduce us?</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>Can I whirl such a girl?</p> +<p class="i2">Calisthenics could not teach it.</p> +<p>I, effaced, clasp your waist?</p> +<p class="i2">I'll be hanged if I can reach it!</p> + </div> </div> + + <hr class="medium" /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page67" id="page67"></a>[pg 67]</span> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;"><a href="images/067-1500.png"><img src="images/067-600.png" width="600" height="462" alt="THE STORMY PETREL!" /></a> +<h2>THE STORMY PETREL!</h2></div> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page68" id="page68"></a>[pg 68]</span><br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page69" id="page69"></a>[pg 69]</span> + +<hr class="medium" /> + +<h2>THE ADVENTURES OF PICKLOCK HOLES.</h2> + +<h4>(<i>By Cunnin Toil.</i>)</h4> + +<h3>No. I.—THE BISHOP'S CRIME.</h3> + +<p>I was sitting alone in my room at 10.29 on the night of the +14th of last November. I had been doing a good deal of work +lately, and I was tired. Moreover, I had had more than one touch +of that old Afghan fever, which always seemed to be much more +inclined to touch than to go. However, we can't have everything +here to please us; and as I had only the other day attended two +bankers and a Lord Mayor for <ins title="T.N.: Original reads 'measeles'">measles</ins>, I had no real cause to +complain of my prospects. I had drawn the old armchair in which +I was sitting close to the fire, and, not having any bread handy, I +was occupied in toasting my feet at the blaze when suddenly the +clock on the mantelpiece struck the half hour, and <span class="sc">Picklock +Holes</span> stood by my side. I was too much accustomed to his +proceedings to express any surprise at seeing him thus, but I own +that I was itching to ask him how he had managed to get into my +house without ringing the bell. However, I refrained, and motioned +him to a chair.</p> + +<p>"My friend," said this extraordinary man, without the least preface, +"you've been smoking again. You know you have; it's not the least +use denying it." I absolutely gasped with astonishment, and gazed at +him almost in terror. How had he +guessed my secret? He read my +thoughts, and smiled.</p> + +<p>"Oh, simply enough. That spot on +your shirt-cuff is black. But it might +have been yellow, or green, or blue, or +brown, or rainbow-coloured. But I know +you smoke Rainbow mixture, and as your +canary there in the corner has just gone +blind, I know further that bird's-eye is +one of the component parts of the mixture."</p> + +<p>"<span class="sc">Holes</span>," I cried, dropping my old +meerschaum out of my mouth in my +amazement; "I don't believe you're a +man at all—you're a devil."</p> + +<p>"Thank you for the compliment," he +replied, without moving a single muscle +of his marble face. "You ought not to +sup——" He was going to have added +"pose," but the first syllable seemed to +suggest a new train of thought (in which, +I may add, there was no second class +whatever) to my inexplicable friend.</p> + +<p>"No," he said; "the devilled bones +were not good. Don't interrupt me; you +had devilled bones for supper, or rather +you would have had them, only you didn't like them. Do you see that +match? A small piece is broken off the bottom, but enough is left +to show it was once a lucifer—in other words, a devil. It is lying at +the feet of the skeleton which you use for your anatomical investigations, +and therefore I naturally conclude that you had devilled +bones for supper. You didn't eat them, <i>for not a single bone of the +skeleton is missing</i>. Do I make myself clear?"</p> + +<p>"You do," I said, marvelling more than ever at the extraordinary +perspicacity of the man. As a matter of fact, my supper had consisted +of bread and cheese; but I felt that it would be in extremely +bad taste for a struggling medical practitioner like myself to contradict +a detective whose fame had extended to the ends of the earth. +I picked up my pipe, and relit it, and, for a few moments, we sat in +silence. At last I ventured to address him.</p> + +<p>"Anything new?" I said.</p> + +<p>"No, not exactly new," he said, wearily, passing his sinewy hand +over his expressionless brow. "Have you a special <i>Evening +Standard</i>? I conclude you have, as I see no other evening papers +here. Do you mind handing it to me?"</p> + +<p>There was no deceiving this weird creature. I took the paper he +mentioned from my study table, and handed it to him.</p> + +<p>"Now listen," said <span class="sc">Holes</span>, and then read, in a voice devoid of +any sign of emotion, the following paragraph:—"This morning, as +Mrs. <span class="sc">Drabley</span>, a lady of independent means, was walking in +Piccadilly, she inadvertently stepped on a piece of orange-peel, and +fell heavily on the pavement. She was carried into the shop of +Messrs. <span class="sc">Salver and Tankard</span>, the well-known silversmiths, and it +was at first thought she had broken her right leg. However, on +being examined by a medical man who happened to be passing, +she was pronounced to be suffering from nothing worse than a +severe bruise, and, in the course of half-an-hour, she recovered +sufficiently to be able to proceed on her business. This is the +fifth accident caused by orange-peel at the same place within the +last week."</p> + +<div class="figright" style="width: 400px;"><a href="images/069-700.png"><img src="images/069-400.png" width="400" height="392" alt="'The Bishop was in his night-gown'" /></a> +<p>"The Bishop was in his night-gown, and the sight of +two strangers visibly alarmed him."</p></div> + +<p>"It <i>is</i> scandalous!" I broke in. "This mania for dropping orange-peel +is decimating London. Curiously enough I happen to be the +medical man who——"</p> + +<p>"Yes, I know; you are the medical man who was passing."</p> + +<p>"<span class="sc">Holes</span>," I ejaculated, "you are a magician."</p> + +<p>"No, not a magician; only a humble seeker after truth, who +uses as a basis for his deduction some slight point that others are +too blind to grasp. Now you think the matter ends there. I don't. +I mean to discover who dropped that orange-peel. Will you help +me?"</p> + +<p>"Of course I will, but how do you mean to proceed? There must +be thousands of people who eat oranges every day in London."</p> + +<p>"Be accurate, my dear fellow, whatever you do. There are +78,965, not counting girls. But this piece was not dropped by +a girl."</p> + +<p>"How do you know?" I asked.</p> + +<p>"Never mind; it is sufficient that I do know it. Read this," +he continued, pointing to another column of the paper. This is +what I read:—</p> + +<p>"<span class="sc">Missionary Enterprise.</span>—A great conference of American and +Colonial Bishops was held in Exeter Hall this afternoon. The proceedings +opened with an impassioned speech from the Bishop of +<span class="sc">Florida</span>——"</p> + +<p>"Never mind the rest," said <span class="sc">Holes</span>, "that's quite enough. +Now read this":—</p> + +<p>"The magnificent silver bowl to be +presented to the Bishop of Florida by +some of his English friends is now on +view at Messrs. <span class="sc">Salver and Tankard's</span> +in Piccadilly. It is a noble specimen of +the British silversmith's art." An elaborate +description followed.</p> + +<p>"These paragraphs," continued <span class="sc">Holes</span>, +in his usual impassive manner, "give +me the clue I want. Florida is an +orange-growing country. Let us call on +the Bishop."</p> + +<p>In a moment we had put on our hats, +and in another moment we were in a +Hansom on our way to the Bishop's +lodgings in Church Street, Soho. <span class="sc">Holes</span> +gained admittance by means of his skeleton +key. We passed noiselessly up the +stairs, and, without knocking, entered the +Bishop's bedroom. He was in his night-gown, +and the sight of two strangers +visibly alarmed him.</p> + +<p>"I am a detective," began <span class="sc">Holes</span>.</p> + +<p>"Oh," said the Bishop, turning pale. +"Then I presume you have called about +that curate who disappeared in an alligator +swamp close to my episcopal palace +in Florida. It is not true that I killed him. He——"</p> + +<p>"Tush," said <span class="sc">Holes</span>, "we are come about weightier matters. +This morning at half-past eleven your lordship was standing +outside the shop of <span class="sc">Salver and Tankard</span> looking at your presentation +bowl. You were eating an orange. You stowed the +greater part of the peel in your coat-tail pocket, but you dropped, +maliciously dropped, one piece on the pavement. Shortly afterwards +a stout lady passing by trod on it and fell. Have you anything +to say?"</p> + +<p>The Bishop made a movement, but <span class="sc">Holes</span> was before-hand with +him. He dashed to a long black coat that hung behind the door, +inserted his hand deftly in the pocket, and pulled out the fragmentary +remains of a large Florida orange.</p> + +<p>"As I supposed," he said, "a piece is missing."</p> + +<p>But the miserable prelate had fallen senseless on the floor, where +we left him.</p> + +<p>"<span class="sc">Holes</span>," I said, "this is one of your very best. How on earth +did you know you would find that orange-peel in his coat?"</p> + +<p>"I didn't find it there," replied my friend; "I brought it with +me, and had it in my hand when I put it in his pocket. I knew +I should have to use strong measures with so desperate a +character. My dear fellow, all these matters require tact and +imagination."</p> + +<p>And that was how we brought home the orange-peel to the +Bishop.</p> + +<hr class="medium" /> + +<h3>Ben Trovato.</h3> + +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<p>A penny-a-liner heard—with a not unnatural choler—</p> +<p class="i2">That he of all invention was apparently bereft;</p> +<p>And so he up and told them that a smart left-handed bowler,</p> +<p class="i2">"Manipulates the leather with the left!"</p> +<p>That's very chaste and novel, and alliterative too;</p> +<p>As a sham Swinburnian poet we should think that man might do!</p> + </div> </div> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page70" id="page70"></a>[pg 70]</span> + +<hr class="medium" /> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;"><a href="images/070-1500.png"><img src="images/070-600.png" width="600" height="365" alt="EDUCATED." /></a> +<h3 class="sans">EDUCATED.</h3> + +<p class="center">(<i>From a Yorkshire Moor.</i>)</p> + +<p><i>Keeper (to the Captain, who has missed again, and is letting off steam in +consequence).</i> "<span class="sc">Oh dear! Oh dear! It's hawful to see yer +missin' of 'em, Sir; but</span>"—(<i>with admiration</i>)—"<span class="sc">ye're a Scholard +i' Langwidge, Sir!</span>"</p></div> + +<hr class="medium" /> + +<h3>CRICKET CONGRATULATIONS.</h3> + +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<p>843! Well done! Well played! Well hit!</p> +<p>It opens <i>Mr. Punch's</i> eyes a bit</p> +<p>To see our friends of the Antipodes</p> +<p>Pile up their hundreds with the utmost ease.</p> +<p><span class="sc">Bruce</span> leads the way, and shows Blues—Dark and Light—</p> +<p>Left-handed men may play the game aright.</p> +<p>Then <span class="sc">Bannerman</span>, safe as a <span class="sc">Gunn</span> is he,</p> +<p>Exceeds the Century by thirty-three,</p> +<p>While five more than a hundred runs are due</p> +<p>To <span class="sc">Trumble</span>, whom his friends call simply "<span class="sc">Hugh</span>."</p> +<p>Well played, Australia! Banks may fail—they do,</p> +<p>And, truth to tell, you <i>have</i> lost one or two,</p> +<p>But this at any rate's a clear deduction—</p> +<p>Your Cricket Team can need no reconstruction!</p> + </div> </div> + +<hr class="medium" /> + +<h2 class="sans">ESSENCE OF PARLIAMENT.</h2> + +<h4>EXTRACTED FROM THE DIARY OF TOBY, M.P.</h4> + +<p><i>House of Commons, Monday, July 31.</i>—No one who chanced last +Thursday to see <span class="sc">Hayes Fisher</span> and <span class="sc">Logan</span> engaged in controversy +on Front Opposition Bench would suspect them of essentially +retiring disposition. This conclusively proved to-night. Decided +on further consideration that something must really be done in +direction of modifying effects of Thursday's riot. Someone must +apologise. This put to <span class="sc">Hayes Fisher</span>, who delighted <span class="sc">Walrond</span> +with swiftness, even enthusiasm, of acquiescence.</p> + +<p>"Right you are, dear boy," he cried. "I have thought so from +the first. Indeed I have publicly placed the matter in its true light. +Daresay you read my little affidavit written within an hour of what +I quite agree with the <span class="sc">Speaker</span> in alluding to as 'the regrettable +incident.' Here's what I said: 'To put a stop to his (<span class="sc">Logan's</span>) +aggressive conduct, I immediately seized him by the neck and +forcibly ejected him on to the floor of the House. That began the +scrimmage.' Then I go on to point the moral, though indeed it +points itself. This is where you and I particularly agree. 'In my +opinion the responsibility for the discreditable scene rests even more +with Mr. <span class="sc">Gladstone</span> than with Mr. <span class="sc">Logan</span>.' Yes, +<span class="sc">Walrond</span>, you +are quite right in what you are about to say. I have shown clearly +that Mr. G. was at the bottom of the whole business, and he should +apologise. Don't you think he'd better be brought in at the Bar? +And if he spent a night or two in the Clock Tower it would have +most wholesome effect, vindicate dignity of House, and prevent +recurrence of these regrettable scenes."</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Walrond's</span> face a study, whilst <span class="sc">Hayes Fisher</span>, carried away +by enthusiasm of moment, rubbed his hands and smiled in anticipation +of the scene.</p> + +<p>The Opposition Whip had tough job in hand. To <span class="sc">Fisher's</span> logical +mind the proposal that <i>he</i> should apologise was a <i>non sequitur</i>. +Why, what had he done? As he told House later, seeing <span class="sc">Logan</span> +come up and sit down on bench below him, he thought he was going +to strike him. Natural attitude for a man meaning to let out +straight from the shoulder at another is to sit down with back turned +towards intended victim. <span class="sc">Fisher's</span> quick intelligence taking whole +situation in at glance, he promptly proceeded to take in as much as +his hands would hold of the back of <span class="sc">Logan's</span> neck, with intent to +thrust him forth. That, as he wrote, "began the scrimmage." +In other words, Mr. <span class="sc">Gladstone</span> was responsible for the whole +business, even more so than <span class="sc">Logan</span>, who had wantonly brought the +back of his neck within reach of <span class="sc">Fisher's</span> hand.</p> + +<p>However, there were reasons of State why the guilty should go +unpunished. Not the first time Innocency has been sacrificed that +Guilt might stalk through the land unfettered. <span class="sc">Fisher</span> would +apologise; but here again the untameably logical mind asserted +itself. <span class="sc">Logan</span> must apologise first. It was he who had been forcibly +ejected. On Thursday night <span class="sc">Fisher</span> had come up behind him; +<i>argal</i>, he must follow him now. Thus it was settled, or so understood. +But when critical moment arrived, House waiting for someone +to speak, hitch occurred. <span class="sc">Fisher</span> waited for <span class="sc">Logan</span>; +<span class="sc">Logan</span>, in +excess of politeness, hung back. Awkward pause. <span class="sc">Speaker</span> +observed he had certainly understood something might be said by +the two gentlemen. Another pause. <span class="sc">Logan</span> and <span class="sc">Fisher</span> eyed each +other across the floor.</p> + +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<p>Lord <span class="sc">Chatham</span>, with his sword drawn,</p> +<p>Stood waiting for Sir <span class="sc">Richard Strachan</span>;</p> +<p>Sir <span class="sc">Richard</span>, longing to be at 'em,</p> +<p>Stood waiting for the Earl of <span class="sc">Chatham</span>.</p> + </div> </div> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page71" id="page71"></a>[pg 71]</span> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 350px;"><a href="images/071-1100.png"><img src="images/071-360.png" width="360" height="478" alt="'THE HAPPY FAMILY.'" /></a> +<h2>"<span class="sans">THE HAPPY FAMILY.</span>"</h2> + +<p class="center">(<i>By Our Artist in Fret-Work.</i>)</p></div> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page72" id="page72"></a>[pg 72]</span> + +<p>At length <span class="sc">Prince Arthur</span> interposed; gently, but firmly, drew +the coy <span class="sc">Fisher</span> to the front. His apology followed by one from the +lingering <span class="sc">Logan</span>. Scene ended amid mutual tears.</p> + +<p>"Yes, it's all very well," said <span class="sc">Fisher</span>, wringing his +pocket-handkerchief +and glaring angrily at Mr. G. "But, after all, the real +criminal has escaped, and logic, as applicable to events of daily life, +has received a staggering blow."</p> + +<p><i>Business done.</i>—<span class="sc">Acland</span> explained English Education Estimates +in speech admirable alike in matter and manner.</p> + +<div class="figleft" style="width:400px;"><a href="images/072a-1000.png"><img src="images/072a-400.png" width="400" height="265" alt="Another Injustice to Ireland." /></a> +<h4>Another Injustice to Ireland.</h4></div> + +<p><i>Tuesday.</i>—Some men are born to trouble as the sparks fly upwards. +Of these is <span class="sc">William O'Brien</span>. It would seem that fate had +expended its malignity when <span class="sc">Prince Arthur</span> deprived him of his +breeches. Now <span class="sc">Joseph</span> has appropriated his dinner-table. The +lynx eye of <span class="sc">Bartley</span> detected the irregularity which disclosed +existence of this fresh outrage. <span class="sc">Bartley</span> favourably known in House +as guardian of its honour and dignity. From time to time spirit +moves him suddenly to rise and point fat forefinger at astonished +Mr. G., whom he has discovered in some fresh design upon stability +of the Empire or symmetry of the Constitution. At stated hours, +formerly on Thursdays ten o'clock now generally on stroke of +midnight, he is seen and heard shouting "Gag! gag!"</p> + +<p>"Odd," says Member for Sark, "how phrases change in similar +circumstances though at different epochs. When Closure first +invented, put in motion by dear <span class="sc">Old Morality</span>, and supported +by <span class="sc">Bartley</span>, <span class="sc">Hanbury</span>, <span class="sc">Jimmy Lowther</span>, and the rest, it +used +to be spoken resentfully of as 'pouncing.' Now it is 'gagging.' +But it is precisely the same, inasmuch as the minority +of the day, against whom it is enforced, denounce it as iniquitous, +whilst the majority, who took that view when they were on +other side of House, now regard it as indispensable to conduct +of public business. <span class="sc">Bartley</span> having lived through both epochs +is useful illustration of this tendency. When <span class="sc">Old Morality</span> +pounced on Irish members his lusty shout of approval used +to echo through House with only less volume than now his roar +of anguish goes up to glass roof when <span class="sc">Old Morality's</span> original +thumbscrews are fitted on him and his friends. A quaint, +mad world, my <span class="sc">Toby</span>."</p> + +<p>To-night <span class="sc">Bartley</span> not so well-informed on subject as usual. +Thought it was <span class="sc">John Dillon</span>, who, acting the part of +<span class="sc">Amphitryon</span>, +piloted his guests within preserves of members' private +dining-room. Turned out it wasn't <span class="sc">Dillon</span> at all, but <span class="sc">William +O'Brien</span>, who in most tragic manner tells how, having secured +in advance a table for his guests, found when the dinner-hour +struck <span class="sc">Joseph</span> and his Brethren seated thereat, merrily profiting +by his forethought. Straightway <span class="sc">O'Brien</span> led his guests to +the table in members' room which Unionist Leaders have +marked for their own. This he appropriated, and there, +regardless of surprised looks from ex-ministers at adjoining +table, he truculently dined.</p> + +<p>"Well, at any rate," said <span class="sc">Tim Healy</span>, that Man of Peace, +"I'm glad it wasn't mere English or Orangemen who were +thus treated. If <span class="sc">Joseph</span> had appropriated <span class="sc">Saunderson's</span> table, +the Colonel would have taken him in his arms, dropped him outside +on the Terrace, and, returning to his seat, ordered a fresh plate +of soup." <i>Business done.</i>—<span class="sc">Bartley</span> adds fresh dignity to +Parliamentary +debate.</p> + +<p><i>Thursday.</i>—Was it this day week the House was in volcanic upheaval, +with <span class="sc">Hayes Fisher</span>—or was it Mr. <span class="sc">Gladstone</span>?—clutching +<span class="sc">Logan</span> by the back of the neck, a mad mob mauling each other +round the white waistcoat of <span class="sc">Edward of Armagh</span>? According to +the almanack this is so; according to appearances an eternity and +a hemisphere divide the two scenes.</p> + +<p>In Committee on Vote on Account; average attendance from twenty +to thirty. Orders bristle with amendments; papers read in support +of them; occasionally a Member follows with observations on topic +suggested; sometimes he doesn't; then next gentleman who has +prepared paper takes the floor; the audience turns over; goes to +sleep again; wakened by Chairman putting question "that Amendment +be withdrawn." Isn't even vigour sufficient to induce a division.</p> + +<p>Only person free from somnolent influence of hour is Mr. G. Has +nothing to do in this galley; looks on wistfully whilst +<span class="sc">Lowther</span> (not <span class="sc">Jimmy</span>) talks about Vitu and the Pamirs; +<span class="sc">Jimmy</span> (<i>lui même</i>) is sarcastic on subject of Board of +Trade engaging in experiments in journalism; and +<span class="sc">Dicky Temple</span> wants to know all about reported modifications +in constitution of St. Paul's School by the +Charity Commissioners. Mr. G. liked to have offered few +remarks on one or all these subjects. <span class="sc">Tommy Bowles</span> +nearly succeeded in drawing him. Dropping lightly out +of Siam, <i>viâ</i> Morocco, upon question of Collisions at Sea, +<span class="sc">Tommy</span> brought <span class="sc">Mundella</span> into full focus and fairly +floored him with a problem.</p> + +<p>"Suppose," he said, "the right hon. gentleman were +at sea, and the whole fleet bore down upon him on the +weather bow. What would he do?"</p> + +<div class="figright" style="width: 300px;"><a href="images/072b-900.png"><img src="images/072b-300.png" width="300" height="255" alt="Reading the G. O. M. to sleep." /></a> +<h4>Reading the G. O. M. to sleep.</h4></div> + +<p><span class="sc">Mundella</span> nonplussed. Mr. G. knew all about it; +would have answered right off and probably silenced +even <span class="sc">Tommy</span> with proposition of counter manœuvre. But +<span class="sc">Marjoribanks</span> kept relentless eye on him. Vote on +Account must be got through Committee to-night. +The less speaking the better; so with profound sigh +Mr. G. resisted the temptation and composed himself +to listen to <span class="sc">Leng's</span> paper on the prohibition of importation +of live cattle from Canada. Here was opportunity +of learning something which Mr. G. gratefully +welcomed. Gradually, as the new knight went on +reading extract after extract in level voice, remorselessly +deliberate, Mr. G.'s eyes closed, his head drooped, and in +full view of the crowded Strangers' Gallery he fell into peaceful, +childlike slumber.</p> + +<p><i>Business done.</i>—Vote on Account passed Committee.</p> + +<p><i>Friday.</i>—Morning sitting devoted to miscellaneous talk around +Ireland. Evening, a long <span class="sc">Storey</span> about iniquities of House of +Lords. The evening and the morning a dull day. Had time to +look over Mr. G.'s letter about retention of Irish Members. "What +do you think of it?" I asked the Member for Sark. "Haven't +read it," he said. "When I saw it was a column long, I knew +Mr. G. didn't want to say anything that would be understood. +When he does, a few lines suffice; when he doesn't, nothing less +than a column of print will serve."</p> + +<p><i>Business done.</i>—Vote on Account through Report Stage.</p> + +<hr class="medium" /> + +<p class="center"><span class="sc">France and Siam.</span>—The situation at Bangkok will probably +result in further Develle-opments.</p> + +<hr class="medium" /> + +<table align="center" summary="transcriber note" width="auto" style="margin-top: 3em; margin-bottom: 3em;"> +<tr> + <td class="note"> + +<h4>Transcriber's Note:</h4> + +<p>Sundry damaged or missing punctuation has been repaired.</p> + +<p>The corrections listed below are also indicated in the text by a dashed line at the appropriate place:<br /> +Move the mouse over the word, and the original text <ins title="T.N.: Original reads 'apprears'">appears</ins>.</p> + +<p>Page 64: 'barometre' corrected to 'baromètre'.<br /> +"Le baromètre—Beau fixe!"</p> + +<p>Page 65: 'Jung Frau' ... the author may have had something else in mind, +besides the mountain (Jungfrau)?<br /> +"<i>Interlachen.</i> Remember the Jung Frau and forget the tourists."</p> + +<p>Page 69: 'measeles' corrected to 'measles'.<br /> +"attended two bankers and a Lord Mayor for measles,"</p> + +</td> +</tr> +</table> + +<hr class="full" /> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Punch, or the London Charivari, Vol. +105, August 12th 1893, by Various + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PUNCH, OR THE LONDON *** + +***** This file should be named 36140-h.htm or 36140-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/3/6/1/4/36140/ + +Produced by Lesley Halamek, Malcolm Farmer and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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