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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Punch, or the London Charivari, Vol. 105,
+August 26th 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 26th 1893
+
+Author: Various
+
+Editor: Sir Francis Burnand
+
+Release Date: May 19, 2011 [EBook #36142]
+
+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
+
+
+
+
+
+
+PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI
+
+VOLUME 105, August 26th 1893
+
+_edited by Sir Francis Burnand_
+
+
+
+
+THE ADVENTURES OF PICKLOCK HOLES.
+
+(_By Cunnin Toil._)
+
+No. III.--LADY HILDA'S MYSTERY.
+
+A day or two after the stirring events which I have related as taking
+place at Blobley-in-the-Marsh, and of which, it will be remembered,
+I was myself an astonished spectator, I happened to be travelling,
+partly for business, partly for pleasure, through one of the most
+precipitous of the inaccessible mountain-ranges of Bokhara. It is
+unnecessary for me to state in detail the reasons that had induced
+me once more to go so far a-field. One of the primary elements in a
+physician's success in his career is, that he should be able to guard,
+under a veil of impenetrable silence, the secrets confided to his
+care. It cannot, therefore, be expected of me that I should reveal why
+his Eminence the Cardinal DACAPO, one of the most illustrious of the
+Princes of the Church, desired that I should set off to Bokhara. When
+the memoirs of the present time come to be published, it is possible
+that no chapter of them will give rise to bitterer discussion than
+that which narrates the interview of the redoubtable Cardinal with the
+humble author of this story. Enough, however, of this, at present. On
+some future occasion much more will have to be said about it. I
+cannot endure to be for ever the scape-goat of the great, and, if the
+Cardinal persists in his refusal to do me justice, I shall have, in
+the last resort, to tell the whole truth about one of the strangest
+affairs that ever furnished gossip for all the most brilliant and
+aristocratic tea-tables of the Metropolis.
+
+I was walking along the narrow mountain path that leads from Balkh
+to Samarcand. In my right hand I held my trusty kirghiz, which I had
+sharpened only that very morning. My head was shaded from the blazing
+sun by a broad native mollah, presented to me by the Khan of BOKHARA,
+with whom I had spent the previous day in his Highness's magnificent
+marble and alabaster palace. As I walked I could not but be sensible
+of a curiously strained and tense feeling in the air--the sort
+of atmosphere that seems to be, to me at least, the invariable
+concomitant of country-house guessing-games. I was at a loss to
+account for this most curious phenomenon, when, looking up suddenly,
+I saw on the top of an elevated crag in front of me the solitary and
+impassive figure of PICKLOCK HOLES, who was at that moment engaged on
+one of his most brilliant feats of induction. He evinced no surprise
+whatever at seeing me. A cold smile lingered for a moment on his firm
+and secretive lips, and he laid the tips of his fingers together in
+his favourite attitude of deep consideration.
+
+[Illustration: "Holes opened it, and read it."]
+
+"How are you, my dear POTSON?" he began. "What? not well? Dear me,
+dear me, what can it mean? And yet I don't think it can have been the
+fifth glass of sherbet which you took with the fourteenth wife of the
+KHAN. No, I don't think it can have been that."
+
+"HOLES, you extraordinary creature," I broke in; "what on earth
+made you think that I drank five glasses of sherbert with the KHAN'S
+fourteenth wife?"
+
+"Nothing simpler, my dear fellow. Just before I saw you a native
+Bokharan goose ran past this rock, making, as it passed, a strange
+hissing noise, exactly like the noise made by sherbert when immersed
+in water. Five minutes elapsed, and then you appeared. I watched you
+carefully. Your lips moved, as lips move only when they pronounce the
+word fourteen. You then smiled and scratched your face, from which
+I immediately concluded you were thinking of a wife or wives. Do you
+follow me?"
+
+"Yes, I do, perfectly," I answered, overjoyed to be able to say so
+without deviating from the truth; for in following his reasoning I
+did not admit its accuracy. As to that I said nothing, for I had drunk
+sherbert with no one, and consequently had not taken five glasses with
+the fourteenth wife of the KHAN. Still, it was a glorious piece of
+guess-work on the part of my matchless friend, and I expressed my
+admiration for his powers in no measured terms.
+
+"Perhaps," said HOLES, after a pause, "you are wondering why I am
+here. I will tell you. You know Lady HILDA CARDAMUMS?"
+
+"What, the third and loveliest daughter of the Marquis of SASSAFRAS?"
+
+"The same. Two days ago she left her boudoir at Sassafras Court,
+saying that she would return in a quarter of an hour. A quarter of an
+hour elapsed, the Lady HILDA was still absent. The whole household was
+plunged in grief, and every kind of surmise was indulged in to account
+for the lovely girl's disappearance. Under these circumstances the
+Marquis sent for me, and that," said HOLES, "is why I am here."
+
+"But," I ventured to remark, "do you really expect to find Lady HILDA
+here in Bokhara, on these inhospitable precipices, where even the
+wandering Bactrian finds his footing insecure? Surely it cannot be
+that you have tracked the Lady HILDA hither?"
+
+"Tush," said HOLES, smiling in spite of himself at my vehemence.
+"Why should she not be here? Listen. She was not at Sassafras Court.
+Therefore, she must have been outside Sassafras Court. Now in Bokhara
+_is_ outside Sassafras Court, or, to put it algebraically,
+
+ in Bokhara = outside Sassafras Court.
+
+Substitute 'in Bokhara' for 'outside Sassafras Court,' and you get
+this result--
+
+'She must have been in Bokhara.'
+
+Do you see any flaw in my reasoning?"
+
+For a moment I was unable to answer. The boldness and originality of
+this master-mind had as usual taken my breath away. HOLES observed my
+emotion with sympathy.
+
+"Come, come, my dear fellow!" he said; "try not to be too much
+overcome. Of course, I know it is not everybody who could track the
+mazes of a mystery so promptly; but, after all, by this time you of
+all people in the world ought to have grown accustomed to my ways.
+However, we must not linger here any longer. It is time for us to
+restore Lady HILDA to her parents."
+
+As HOLES uttered these words a remarkable thing happened. Round the
+corner of the crag on which we were standing came a little native
+Bokharan telegraph boy. He approached HOLES, salaamed deferentially,
+and handed him a telegram. HOLES opened it, and read it without moving
+a muscle, and then handed it to me. This is what I read:--
+
+ "_To HOLES, Bokhara._
+
+ "_HILDA returned five minutes after you left. Her watch
+ had stopped. Deeply grateful to you for all your trouble.
+ SASSAFRAS._"
+
+There was a moment's silence, broken by HOLES.
+
+"No," he said, "we must not blame the Lady HILDA for being at
+Sassafras Court and not in Bokhara. After all, she is young and
+necessarily thoughtless."
+
+"Still, HOLES," I retorted, with some natural indignation, "I cannot
+understand how, after your convincing induction, a girl of any
+delicacy of feeling can have remained away from Bokhara."
+
+"I knew she would do so," said my friend, calmly.
+
+"HOLES, you are more wonderful than ever," was all that I could
+murmur. So that is the true story of Lady HILDA CARDAMUMS' return to
+her family.
+
+ * * * * *
+
+DANGER!
+
+ In our London streets, for native or stranger,
+ We ought to have notice-boards warning of "Danger!"
+ Like those on the Thames near the weirs and locks.
+ When Premiers collide, and when Princes get shocks,
+ In cabs or in carriages, King Street way driving,
+ 'Tis time that street warnings the wise were contriving.
+ For now it is clear that you might as well try
+ To steer a balloon through a thundery sky,
+ Or take a stroll near the setting of sun
+ In a suburb where cads upon bicycles run;
+ Or command--or serve in--an ironclad fleet,
+ As--take a drive down St. James's Street!
+
+ * * * * *
+
+THE LITTLE OLD (PARLIAMENTARY) WOMAN, HER (NEWCASTLE PROGRAMME) SHOE,
+AND HER IMPORTUNATE CHILDREN.
+
+(_An old Nursery Rhyme Re-adapted._)
+
+[Illustration:
+
+ THERE WAS AN OLD WOMAN WHO LIVED IN HER SHOE,
+ SHE HAD SO MANY CHILDREN SHE DIDN'T KNOW WHAT TO DO;
+ SO SHE GAVE THEM SOME BROTH WITHOUT ANY BREAD,
+ THEN "WHIPPED" THEM ALL UP, AND--SENT THEM TO BED!
+
+ ["Inspired, as it may be presumed, by the more or less remote
+ prospect of the termination of the Home-Rule debate, the
+ political creditors of the Government are vieing with one
+ another in urging their respective claims to priority of
+ payment."--_Morning Post._
+
+ "Their bills are the promises of the Newcastle
+ Programme."--_Times._]
+]
+
+ * * * * *
+
+LOVE'S LABOUR'S LOST.
+
+ My ANGELINA once enjoyed
+ The mild lawn-tennis all the day,
+ And did not scorn to be employed
+ In croquet's unexciting fray;
+ O truly happy seasons, when
+ I think of you, I wish you back,
+ For ANGELINA had not then
+ Become a golfing maniac!
+
+ But now of none of these she thinks,
+ All such pursuits she reckons "slow,"
+ And spends the days upon the links,
+ Where nevermore I mean to go:
+ For I recall the heartless snubs,
+ Which those enchanting lips let fall,
+ When I demolished several clubs,
+ And lost my temper, and the ball.
+
+ To-day the fickle maid prefers
+ With young MACDUFF to pass her time,
+ Because his "putting," she avers--
+ Whatever that be--"is sublime;"
+ And when I get a chance to state
+ The deep affection felt by me,
+ She interrupts me to relate
+ How well she did that hole in three!
+
+ I love my ANGELINA still,
+ Yet he who chose her as a wife
+ Would be expected to fulfil
+ A caddie's duties all his life;
+ So, if I turn away instead,
+ You will not hold me much to blame?
+ How _can_ I woo her? She is wed
+ Already--to this awful game!
+
+ * * * * *
+
+[Illustration: EXPERTO CREDE.
+
+_Corporal M'Taggart, of the Nairn and Elgin Highlanders (to
+Photographer)._ "HECH MON, YE'LL NEEVER HIT US THAT GAIT,--YE'RE NO
+ALLOWIN' FOR WINDAGE!"]
+
+ * * * * *
+
+CROQUET.
+
+ O feeblest game, how strange if you should rise
+ To favour, _vice_ tennis superseded!
+ And yet beneath such glowing summer skies,
+ When wildest energy is invalided,
+ Mere hitting balls through little hoops
+ Seems work enough. One merely stoops,
+ And lounges round, no other toil is needed.
+
+ Upon a breezy lawn beneath the shade
+ Of rustling trees that hide the sky so sunny,
+ I'll play, no steady game as would be played
+ By solemn, earnest folks as though for money--
+ For love is better. Simply stoop,
+ And hit the ball. It's through the hoop!
+ My partner smiles; she seems to think it funny.
+
+ My pretty partner, whose bright, laughing eyes
+ Gaze at me while I aim another blow; lo,
+ I've missed because I looked at her! With sighs
+ I murmur an apologetic solo.
+ The proudest athlete here might stoop,
+ To hit a ball just through a hoop,
+ And say the game--with her--beats golf and polo.
+
+ * * * * *
+
+TRUMPS FOR TRAMPS.
+
+(_From the Story of a Much-considered Nothing._)
+
+[Illustration]
+
+THE Tramp was distinctly one of the Unemployed. He had no money, no
+friends, no home. He had obtained some work a short while since.
+The labour, of course, had been unskilled, and then there had come a
+strike, and the Tramp and his mates had turned out with the rest. The
+Tramp was a little annoyed, as he had been fairly satisfied to earn
+bread and butter and meat, and above all, and before all, beer. But
+the leaders of the strike had satisfied him that it was entirely for
+his benefit. That as the Tramp could not work up to their standard, it
+was their duty to work down to his--and yet get paid at the same
+rate of wages belonging to the higher scale. This seemed to the Tramp
+pleasant enough. But while he waited, he starved; so he was not sure
+that the notion of the strike was so excellent after all. But then his
+brain might have been clearer--it had not been fed (in common with the
+rest of his body) for several days.
+
+So the Tramp--weary, ragged, and tanned--wandered to the spot where
+Labour was holding her Congress. The last meeting had been held, and
+the final squabble settled when he reached his destination. There
+were a couple of well-fed, healthy-looking men, dressed in good strong
+broad-cloth, standing outside the meeting-place. They regarded the
+Tramp with some surprise.
+
+"Surely not a Member?" said the first.
+
+"And of course not a Delegate?" hinted the second.
+
+The tramp shook his head. He knew nothing about Members and Delegates.
+
+"I thought not," said Number One. "All our Members and Delegates are
+quite of respectable appearance."
+
+"Got nothing to do," replied the Tramp, laconically.
+
+"Why don't you try the Colonies?" asked Number Two. "There has been an
+immense fall in the value of land in Australia. You would get it cheap
+just now. Why not emigrate? Why not acquire some land?"
+
+"I don't want land, I want food!" returned the Tramp.
+
+"Well, when we have a vacancy, you shall become one of us. We eat,
+drink, and talk; but we don't work. It's the best employment out." And
+the Tramp found it so.
+
+ * * * * *
+
+'ARRIET ON LABOUR.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+ Dear POLLY,--These are pooty times, and don't you make no herror.
+ They gives _me_ twists, though I am called the Tottenham Court
+ Road Terror,
+ Along of quantities of pluck, and being such a dasher;
+ But now the papers bring hus news as spiles yer mornin' rasher.
+
+ "Labour is looking up, you bet!" So sez SAM JONES, our neighbour.
+ "I'm glad to 'ear it, SAM," sez I. "But, SAMMY, wot _is_ Labour?"
+ SAM gives his greasy curl a twist, and looks seven ways for Sunday.
+ Bit bosky, SAM, thick in the clear, as usual on Saint Monday.
+
+ "Labour!" I sez, "Oh, shoo fly, SAM! You 'orny-'anded codgers--
+ _Your_ palm's as soft as putty, SAM--are reglar Artful Dodgers.
+ Yer Labour, with a capital L, looks mighty fine in print, SAM,
+ But _work_ with a small w--ah! I see yer takes the 'int, SAM."
+
+ That shut _him_ up, the lolloper! He know'd I'd took his measure,
+ And squelching 'umbugs always do give me pertikler pleasure.
+ JONES sorter set 'is cap at me; I earn good money _I_ do;
+ But love as follows L.S.D. 's all fol-der-riddle-dido!
+
+ "Bashing a knobstick's ripping fun, no doubt--for them as bashes;
+ But this here new petroleum game won't work." Here JONES'S lashes--
+ They're stubby, ginger, sly-fox ones--got kinder tangle-twinkle.
+ I 'ad my eye on 'im, the worm, while working out my winkle.
+
+ (I'd got a pennorth in a bag; they're things to which I'm partial.)
+ "We _must_ bust up Mernopoly," sez SAM, a-looking martial.
+ "The 'Oly Cause o' Labour carn't be stayed by trifles, 'ARRIET!
+ JUDAS must 'ang, 'twere weakness to show mercy to ISCARIOT!"
+
+ "Bit o' yer platform gag," sez I. "You keep it for the club, SAM.
+ 'Twon't comfort me, nor your old mother toiling at the tub, SAM.
+ The 'Oly Cause o' Labour, SAM 's, a splendid thing to spout about,
+ But it's a thing as skulkers makes _the_ most tremenjus rout about."
+
+ I'm only just a work-girl, POLL, one of the larky drudges
+ As swarm acrost the bridge at night and 'omeward gaily trudges,
+ A tootling "_Ta-ra-boom-de-ay_," a chaffing of the fellers,
+ And flourishing their feathered 'ats bright reds, and blues and
+ yellers.
+
+ As vulgar as they make 'em, POLL. Leastways the chaps whose trade is
+ To write and dror in Comics, call hus "anythink but ladies."
+ Ladies? O lor! On thirteen bob a week, less sundry tanners
+ For fines, it's none so easy, POLL, to keep up style and manners.
+
+ But work-girls _work_, and that is more than SAM and _'is_
+ sort--drat 'em!
+ When I see shirks platforming, POLL, I'm longing to get at 'em.
+ When Women's Rights include the charnce of gettin' a fair 'earing
+ For Women's Wrongs--wy then there'll be less bashing and less
+ beering.
+
+ As for the Vote--well, _I_ dunno. It seems pertikler curious
+ That politics makes a man a hass, they drives the fellers furious.
+ If Votes sets women by the ears, as they does men, my winky!
+ I guess 'twill make domestic life even more crabbed and kinky.
+
+ Wy _my_ young man--you know 'im, POLL--whose temper's real milky,
+ Whose 'art is soft as 'is merstarche--and that is simply silky--
+ Got that rouged up on polling day, along of a young Tory
+ As called him names. I 'ad to 'ug 'im off to stop the gory.
+
+ The chap was in the 'atting line, and thought BALFOUR a 'ero;
+ Whereas my MICK 'as Hirish blood, and calls 'im "Niminy Nero."
+ I don't a bit know what they meant, but if them votes should send
+ _hus_
+ As fairly off our chumps as men, the shine _will_ be tremendous!
+
+ We _shall_ 'ave a fair beano then! Well, I'm not nuts on voting.
+ Your 'ARRIET'S lay is--better pay! _That's_ not wot they're
+ promoting,
+ Them spouting Labour Candidates. Of women's work they're jealous;
+ _They_ light the fire to warm _hus_? Bah! they're only good at
+ bellows!
+
+ Their Eight 'Ours Day, and such-like rot, gives me the 'ump, dear
+ POLLY--
+ Wouldn't some women like it, though? Well, 'oping for it's folly,
+ Like longing for a seal-skin _sweet_, or a Marquige for a lover.
+ Man's work may be too long sometimes, a woman's _never_ over.
+
+ Leastways, a _married_ woman's, POLL. MICK'S 'ot on me to "settle,"
+ But eighteen bob a week--his screw--ain't much to bile the kettle;
+ And I ain't 'ad my fling, not yet. MICK'S reglar smart and sparky,
+ But--when a woman's fairly spliced, it's U. P. with the larky.
+
+ And oh my, POLL, I _do_ love larks! Theayters, 'ops, and houtings
+ Warm a girl's 'art a rare sight more than politics and spoutings.
+ MICK says he 'as his eye upon a "flat," neat and commojus.
+ MICK'S a good sort, but tied for life to toil--at eighteen? Ojus!
+
+ 'Ard Labour, and for life, without the hoption! That's a sentence
+ As 'ot as 'ARRY 'ORKINS'S, and no place for repentance.
+ Ah, POLL, my girl, a woman's work _is_ Labour, and no skulking.
+ _It_ must go on though yer old man's out of a job or sulking.
+
+ Mothers can't strike, or unionise, or make demonsterations.
+ The bloke 'as got the bulge on them. Now girls in situations,
+ Like you and me, POLL, _'as_ a chance of larky nights and jolly
+ days,
+ Along of arter bizness 'ours, and, now and then, the 'olidays.
+
+ But 'twixt the cradle and the tub, the old man and 'er needle,
+ A married woman's tied up tight. Yus, MICK may spoon and wheedle,
+ But when a woman's got four kids, bad 'ealth, and toke for tiffin,
+ Then marriage _is_ a failure, POLL, I give yer the straight griffin.
+
+ The goodies slate us shop-girls sharp, say married life or sarvice
+ Are more _respectabler_. Oh lor! Just look at poor JANE JARVIS!
+ She were a dasher, JENNY were, 'er fringe and feathers took it,
+ And now--'er only 'ope's that BILL may tire of 'er and 'ook it.
+
+ You know that purple hostrich plume she were so proud of, POLLY!
+ I bought it on 'er for five bob larst week, and it looks jolly
+ In my new 'at. But as she sat a snivellin' o'er that dollar,
+ Thinks I if this is married life 'ARRIET'S not game for collar.
+
+ She looked so suety and sad, and all them golden tresses
+ She was so proud of when it ran to smart new 'ats and dresses,
+ Was all tight knotted round 'er knob like oakum on a mop, POLL.
+ Her bright blue eyes in mourning, and--well, there, I couldn't
+ stop, POLL.
+
+ Labour? Well yus, the best of hus must work; yer carn't git quit
+ of it;
+ And you and me, POLL, like the rest, must do our little bit of it.
+ But oh, I loves my _freedom_, POLL, my hevenings hoff is 'eaven;
+ But wives and slavies ain't allowed even one day in seven.
+
+ Jigger the men! SAM spouts and shouts about the 'Onest Worker.
+ That always means a Man, of course--_he's_ a smart Man, the shirker!
+ But when a Man lives upon his wife, and skulks around his diggings,
+ Who is the "'Onest Worker" then?--Yours truly,
+
+ 'ARRIET 'IGGINGS.
+
+ * * * * *
+
+FROM GRAVE TO GAY; OR, THE SECRET OF SUCCESS.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+DASH BLANK was a genius. He had been an immense success at school,
+and had done admirably at the University. He then came up to town and
+tried many things. He was a poet, a musician, an artist, an inventor.
+And everyone he knew, said it was absolutely wonderful, and that he
+should make a fortune. But just at the moment he had a fair income,
+which had been left to him by his deceased relative, and there was
+no occasion to augment his means. On the contrary, if anything,
+his accomplishments were rather a loss to him than a gain. So the
+situation existed for a time.
+
+Then came a crash in the City, and poor DASH BLANK found himself
+penniless. It was then he tried to turn his talents to account, but
+found that their market value was _nil_, or even less.
+
+But, fortunately, he was "such a genius," and to persons of that class
+often come what may be termed happy thoughts.
+
+DASH BLANK disappeared--completely, absolutely. His absence remained
+unnoticed for some time, and then, of a sudden, his death got into
+the papers. It was copied from one journal to another, until the
+intelligence was conveyed from one end of the Empire to the other.
+Then some one made the discovery that DASH BLANK had not been
+appreciated. Immediately all his brilliant failures were unearthed,
+and advertised into popularity. His poems on republication realised
+hundreds, and his pictures thousands; his wonderful invention was
+patented, turned into a Company of Limited Liability, and quickly
+realised a fortune. DASH BLANK was a name to conjure with--it was
+typical of success.
+
+At length a statue was erected to his memory, and the unveiling became
+an important function. All sorts of smart people were present, and the
+finest things imaginable were said about his career. When it was all
+over, the Sculptor was left alone with what had been recently termed
+his "masterpiece."
+
+"No," said he; "it is not a bit like poor DASH. I never could get his
+expression."
+
+"It's not bad," observed a man in a cloak, who had come up while
+he was murmuring, and who now stood beside him; "not at all bad,
+considering he never gave you a sitting."
+
+"That's true enough," replied the Sculptor; "but how did you know it?"
+
+"Because I happen to be DASH BLANK himself!" and then the man in the
+cloak threw off that covering, and revealed his identity.
+
+After this came an explanation. The genius noticing that when a clever
+man dies there is always a run upon his works, died himself. At any
+rate that was the impression in the minds of everyone save a friendly
+executor, who collected the money for his estate. Then the friendly
+executor paid the proceeds to the imaginary deceased.
+
+"And shall you resume work?" asked the Sculptor, after he had
+recovered from his astonishment.
+
+"Not I. You need be under no alarm that anyone will compare your
+portrait with the original. I have had enough of work, and with my
+recently accumulated capital, shall try my hand at speculation. Good
+bye, if you are in my neighbourhood, look me up. You will find me
+anywhere between the Arctic and Antarctic Zones." And then he went
+over to America, put his money into wooden nutmegs, and promptly
+became a millionaire.
+
+ * * * * *
+
+THE "ONE-HORSE" HOUSEHOLDER.
+
+(_A Solemn Social Ditty._)
+
+[Illustration]
+
+ In a region where freshly-built suburbs lie ending
+ 'Mid plots of the glum market-gardener's ground,--
+ Its bare, tenantless frontages gloomily blending
+ With grime and neglect that are rampant all round,
+ Runs the street, so forlorn it could not be forlorner,
+ Where, looking straight down a "no thoroughfare" road,
+ With the blaze of a new public-house at the corner,
+ The sad "One-horse" Householder finds his abode!
+
+ 'Tis a wilderness wild of dread dilapidations,
+ Where one feeble gas-light illumines the street,
+ While right over the way fourteen kitchen foundations
+ Of houses unfinished the aching eye greet!
+ How he first chanced to find it his friends often wonder.
+ No omnibus runs within miles of his door,--
+ Nor a train, be it either above-ground or under,
+ Wakes life with its thrice welcome whistle and roar.
+
+ If you call at that house, you'll be knocking and ringing,
+ Till, with forcible language, you're leaving the place,
+ When a slavey, who comes up the hall gaily singing,
+ Flings open the door, with a smut on her face.
+ You ask "if they're in," and she looks you all over,--
+ It's clear she's quite new to an afternoon call,--
+ P'raps takes you for _Turpin_, _Bill Sikes_, the _Red Rover_;
+ But she says that she'll "see," and leaves you in the hall.
+
+ You are ushered upstairs, which a Dutch carpet graces,
+ To a drawing-room, curtained at threepence a yard,
+ Where Japanese gimcracks appear in odd places,
+ Though ASPINALL clearly has proved their trump card;
+ For here it envelopes a plain kitchen-table,
+ There a weak wicker lounge which invites not repose;
+ And at length you are seated, as well as you're able,
+ On a folding arm-chair that half threatens to close.
+
+ But they offer you tea, made with unboiling water,
+ A syrupy Souchong at tenpence a pound,
+ Which a simpering, woebegone, elderly daughter,
+ With stale bread rancid buttered, is handing around.
+ And you think you'll be off: as your talk halts and flounders,
+ For you feel most distinctly, _they're not in your line_,
+ And you say to yourself, "Yes, these JOHNSONS _are_ bounders,"
+ But before you can go, _you have promised to dine_!
+
+ That same dinner will take you some seasons forgetting!
+ The claret was sour, the "tinned" oysters, Blue Point;
+ And moreover 'tis really a little upsetting,
+ For the cook to come up very drunk with the joint!
+ And when to crown this you are asked to expel her,
+ And find a Policeman,--that is, if you could.
+ It may soothe you to hear yourself called "a good feller,"
+ But can you admit that the dinner was good?
+
+ And so when you meet JOHNSON going up to the City,
+ It somehow to-day does not strike you as odd,
+ That with feelings of scorn not unmingled with pity,
+ You hurry on fast with a stiff little nod.
+ Be his craze "speculation," "a crush," "a small dinner,"
+ A christening, marriage, a death or a birth,--
+ There's a limpness of purpose that shows, though no sinner.
+ Why the dim "One-horse" Householder cumbers the earth!
+
+ * * * * *
+
+[Illustration: A LIVELY PROSPECT.
+
+_Jones (who has come, for the first time, to spend a week at
+Prigglesly Manor)._ "SMITH, OF BALLIOL, WAS HERE; WASN'T HE, MRS.
+PRIGGLESLY?"
+
+_Mrs. Prigglesly._ "YES; FOR A WEEK. HE'S JUST LEFT. HE WAS QUITE
+NICE. BUT I ASSURE YOU I DON'T FEEL A BIT THE _WISER_ OR THE _BETTER_
+FOR ANY SINGLE THING HE SAID THE WHOLE TIME!" [_Jones wishes himself
+anywhere else._]
+
+ * * * * *
+
+MAKING THEM USEFUL.
+
+See in the papers that school-children at Whissendine and elsewhere
+are taught gardening. Excellent idea, this. Small Holdings for
+Small Boys! Decide to try it at my "Select Academy for the Sons of
+Gentlemen," as kitchen garden certainly _does_ want attending to, and
+I can't afford a gardener. Tell the boys about it. They want to know
+if the hour a day which I purpose to devote to Agriculture is to take
+the place of _Bradley's Latin Exercises_. On hearing that it is, boys
+seem relieved, and SMITH JUNIOR pronounces the scheme a "jolly lark."
+I confess I am pleased to find this appreciation of my new arrangement
+on the part of the most troublesome urchin in the school.
+
+_Next Day._--All the boys are now provided with separate plots,
+spades, rakes, and hoes. Youth, in fact, is at the Plough, and Myself
+at the Helm, so we ought to get on all right. I purchase for them
+some young cabbage-plants and cucumber-seeds, which will go down as
+"extras" in the bills at the end of Term. Boys very active first day.
+SMITH JUNIOR breaks his spade, and gets fifty lines. JONES astonishes
+me by talking about "Three Acres and a Cow." Find that his father is
+a strong Radical. Must be careful what I say to JONES. The general
+opinion seems to be that Gardening is better than _Bradley's
+Exercises_ "by long chalks." Encouraging.
+
+_Week Later._--In order to gain my prize for best cabbages, boys have
+been stimulating their growth with a guano made of chopped bones,
+slate-pencil dust, and ink! Surprisingly fine specimens in young
+DODGER'S allotment. Too good to be true. Go out to inspect, take up
+one of his cabbages, and find it has no roots. DODGER admits that
+he bought them from village greengrocer. I remark humorously to
+boys--"This is DODGER'S _plot_!" Boys cheer me, and, being indignant
+at DODGER'S cheating, make him--so I hear afterwards--"run the
+gauntlet" in the dormitory the same evening. Hope it will do the
+little sneak good. SMITH JUNIOR tries to do circus trick on garden
+roller. Nearly killed. Two hundred lines, and a page of _Bradley's
+Exercises_. Hear him saying that "he wishes OLD SWATS (that's me)
+would do his gardening himself, and see how _he_ likes it!" No,
+thanks.
+
+_End of the Experiment._--Kitchen garden a wreck! There has been a
+battle royal between FLASHBOYITES and SMITH JUNIORITES. FLASHBOY stole
+all the spades, and entrenched himself in an earthwork, which the
+other side stormed. SMITH JUNIOR bleeding but triumphant. Says
+"gardening is much better far than _Bradley's Exercises_." Cucumbers
+(bought as missiles) and potatoes lying all about. Several have got
+through school-room windows! Letters arrive from parents. Thought
+they would like the new agricultural departure as teaching their boys
+something really useful. But they don't. Quite indignant. Say their
+sons are "not intended for market-gardeners." SMITH JUNIOR'S parent
+says _his_ boy is "meant for the Church." Didn't know this before.
+SMITH JUNIOR will be an ornament of the Church Militant at any rate.
+Drop the gardening, and go back to _Bradley_.
+
+ * * * * *
+
+"THE USUAL CHANNEL."
+
+ To what snug refuge do I fly
+ When glass is low, and billows high,
+ And goodness knows what fate is nigh?--
+ My Cabin!
+
+ Who soothes me when in sickness' grip,
+ Brings a consolatary "nip,"
+ And earns my blessing, and his tip?--
+ The Steward!
+
+ When persons blessed with fancy rich
+ Declare "she" does not roll, or pitch,
+ What say--"The case is hardly sich"?--
+ My Senses!
+
+ What makes me long for _real_ Free Trade,
+ When no Douaniers could invade,
+ Nor keys, when wanted, be mislaid?--
+ My Luggage!
+
+ What force myself, perhaps another,
+ To think (such thoughts we try to smother)
+ "The donkey-engine is our brother"?--
+ Our Feelings!
+
+ And what, besides a wobbling funnel,
+ Screw-throb, oil-smell, unstable gunwale,
+ Converts me to a Channel Tunnel?--
+ My Crossing!
+
+ * * * * *
+
+COOKED AT HEREFORD.
+
+ The strongest always rule the roast.
+ Yes! we believe it fully;
+ So what's the natural result,
+ When COOKE'S opposed by PULLEY?
+ Vain contest--vain the gallant fight!
+ The winner's safely booked,
+ And forty-four good witnesses
+ Affirm the _poulet's_ cooked.
+
+[Illustration: THE POOR VICTIM!
+
+JOHN. "HM! GOOD; MIGHT BE BETTER!"
+
+JONATHAN. "HM! BAD; MIGHT BE WORSE!"
+
+THE SEAL. "THREE MONTHS' CLOSE-TIME! HM! MIGHT HA' MADE IT TWELVE!!"]
+
+ * * * * *
+
+ONLY FANCY!
+
+[Illustration]
+
+ Only fancy if the Earth were flat--
+ As most of those who live upon it are--
+ And you went too near the edge of it, and toppled from the ledge of it,
+ And landed on a distant star!
+ Only fancy, if you fell upon your feet,
+ And recovered pretty quickly from the jar,
+ And you understood the lingo which the people speak and sing, oh,
+ Who dwell upon a distant star!
+ Only fancy, only fancy, what a lot of things there are
+ Very likely to be met with on a distant star.
+
+ A goodish many things would prove
+ Not exactly quite the same as here, I guess;
+ P'raps the ladies _all_ are pretty, and the men all smart and witty,
+ And marriage an unqualified success.
+ P'raps, like WASHINGTON, they cannot tell a lie,
+ And gossip is excluded from their talk;
+ P'raps with them a thing of course is that beef isn't made of horses,
+ And the milkmen haven't even heard of chalk!
+ Only fancy, &c.
+
+ Perhaps they've no occasion for police,
+ Though they may keep just a few to spoon the cooks;
+ If they do, no doubt they're wary whom they make Home Secretary,
+ And the Chief Commissioner's chosen for his looks.
+ Very likely, if they ever play a farce,
+ It contains a pretty moral for the young,
+ And perhaps their panorama has a mission, and their drama
+ To the tune of the Old Hundredth's "said or sung."
+ Only fancy, &c.
+
+ Very likely they have guns that will not burst,
+ And machinery that won't get out of gear;
+ P'raps they've even ammunition in respectable condition,
+ And vessels that are guaranteed to steer.
+ And it's possible they have Vestries who refrain
+ From swearing at each other when they meet;
+ And, though _this_ isn't probable, they may have Boards "unjobable,"
+ And Contractors who will neither bribe nor cheat.
+ Only fancy, &c.
+
+ A Parliament perhaps they may require,
+ But its Members very likely don't obstruct,
+ And each Government proposition just delights the Opposition,
+ And anyone who makes a noise is "chucked."
+ Very possibly they do not care for speech,
+ But if indeed they've got a Grand Old Man
+ In whom the fancy lingers, why, he talks upon his fingers,
+ And they answer on the self-same plan!
+ Only fancy, &c.
+
+ * * * * *
+
+Mrs. R. says there is such a scare now about typhoid, that she always
+takes a tin of dis-connecting fluid about with her. She also says, a
+bottle of automatic vinegar is very refreshing in church.
+
+ * * * * *
+
+MY GARDENERESS.
+
+ ["Lady CARLISLE is training an entire staff of women
+ gardeners, who, she hopes, will keep the grounds of her
+ Yorkshire home in as perfect a condition as their male
+ predecessors have done."--_Pall Mall Gazette._]
+
+ Come into the garden, MAUD,
+ Why has not the grass been mown?
+ Come into the garden, MAUD,
+ Those seeds have never been sown;
+ I fear you've been taking your walks abroad--
+ You blush like a rose full-blown.
+
+ When the early snail first moves,
+ Before the sun is on high,
+ Beginning to gnaw the leaves he loves
+ On the beds, you should always try
+ To pick him off with your garden gloves,
+ And stamp on him--he must die.
+
+ You can't touch snails? Let that pass,
+ I will smash each one in his shell;
+ But when it rains you can roll the grass,
+ When dry can water it well.
+ You say you can't wet your boots--alas!--
+ Nor work when it's warm, _ma belle_?
+
+ And yet your wages you claim;
+ I should like to know what you do.
+ In truth I can't bear to blame
+ Such a sweet pretty girl as you;
+ So stop as my gardener all the same--
+ I'll be master and workman too.
+
+ Queen rose of the rosebud garden of girls,
+ Rough work should never be done
+ By delicate hands as white as pearls,
+ You only began for fun;
+ So sit, with your parasol over your curls,
+ Whilst I dig like mad in the sun.
+
+ * * * * *
+
+[Illustration: IMPROVED COSTUME FOR THE METROPOLITAN POLICE DURING THE
+GREAT HEAT OF 1893.]
+
+ * * * * *
+
+WHO IS IT?
+
+_A Political Enigma. Compounded from the Press of the Period._
+
+[Illustration]
+
+ He's hopeless of heaven, he's too bad for ----,
+ (So say Unionist bards, and they ought to know well,)
+ He is JUDAS-cum-CAIN with a _soupçon_ of OATES,
+ An imperious despot, who grovels for votes;
+ A mean truckling tyrant, an autocrat slave;
+ A Knave who plays King, and a King who plays Knave.
+ A haughty Commander, the tool of his troops,
+ A swayer of "items," nose-led by his dupes;
+ A Dog-despot, wagged by the tip of his tail,
+ A Conspirator potent, whose plot's bound to fail;
+ The land's greatest danger, because such a dolt;
+ As ruler a scourge, because breeding revolt;
+ As political guide ever banefully strong,
+ Because the majority sees he is wrong.
+ A prolix _Polonius_ who proves his senility
+ By taking the shine out of youth and ability:
+ A veteran lagging superfluous, whose age
+ Puts him "out of it" so, that he fills the whole stage:
+ So old that his age gives him every claim,
+ Save to decent respect, which, of course, is a shame,
+ And absurd "fetish-worship." As Lucifer proud
+ And imperious, yet supple of knee to the crowd;
+ A CORIOLANUS who plays the JACK CADE;
+ A coward of nothing and no one afraid;
+ A blundering batsman whom none can bowl out;
+ A craven who staggers opponents most stout;
+ A traitor who gives his whole life to the State,
+ Whose zeal proves his spite, and his service his hate.
+ A truckler to treason and trickster for place,
+ Whose stubbornness oft throws him out of the race;
+ A lover of power and public applause,
+ Who dares to oppose the most popular cause.
+ A talkative sophist who will _not_ explain;
+ A bad-tempered man, ever bland and urbane:
+ A casuist no one can half understand,
+ But whose sinister purpose is plain as your hand;
+ A vituperative and venomous foe,
+ Whose speeches with calm magnanimity glow.
+ In short, an old dolt, who inflicts dire defeat
+ On the smartest young foes he can manage to meet;
+ A powerless provoker of dreadful disasters,
+ A master of slaves whose mere slaves are his masters;
+ A voluble sphinx, and a simple chimæra
+ The Age's conundrum, the _crux_ of his æra!
+
+_Mem._:
+
+ If you can't give a guess at the theme of these rhymes,
+ Why, peruse all the papers, and move with the times!
+
+ * * * * *
+
+AUSTRALIA THE (WITHOUT) GOLDEN.
+
+DEAR MR. PUNCH,--I see that, with a view to economy, the Victorian
+Legislature have cut down the salary of their future Governors to a
+reasonable sum. Every one will applaud an act inspired by so worthy a
+motive. Still, as the officials who have been thus deprived of some of
+their emoluments have a certain state to keep up, I think it would
+be only fair were that state also to undergo revision. With a view to
+assisting in so desirable a programme, I jot down a few suggestions.
+
+_Uniform._--Future Governors not to be required to wear gold lace.
+Yellow braid to be sparingly used in decorating their frock-coats.
+Dirks to be substituted for swords. Cocked-hats no longer to be
+trimmed with feathers.
+
+_Official Entertainments._--Governors no longer to be required to
+ask Colonials to dinner. Luncheons with chops and steaks and boiled
+potatoes to be substituted for extensive _menus_. Balls to be given
+only occasionally, and guests to be served with the lightest of light
+refreshments (sandwiches and lemonade); and if dancing be required,
+dancers to supply their own orchestras.
+
+_Attending State Functions._--Governors no longer to be expected to
+appear in carriage and pair. Their Excellencies to be entitled to use
+tram-cars, omnibuses, and bicycles. When laying a foundation-stone,
+the Governors to be permitted to wear double-soled boots, and carry
+umbrellas.
+
+_Miscellaneous._--To avoid expense, salutes will be dispensed with
+as much as possible. When guns are fired, tubes to be used without
+cartridges. Flags not to be flown in wet weather, and Chairs of State
+always to be covered with brown holland. Gaslights to be sparingly
+lighted, and wax-candles abolished.
+
+There, my dear Sir, this should be a relief both to the goose and the
+gander. It is quite right to economise, but it is a little strange to
+find that we get our first hint in this direction from the Antipodes.
+
+ Yours truly,
+ GAY WITHOUT PAY.
+
+ * * * * *
+
+[Illustration: A SLIGHT CONFUSION OF IDEAS.
+
+_Local Hatter._ "I 'OPE YOU'LL EXCUSE MY CALLING, SIR GEORGE; BUT
+I 'EARD AS HER LADYSHIP WAS GOING TO GIVE A PLAY IN THE GROUNDS--A
+_PASTORAL_ PLAY, THEY TOLD ME--SO I MADE SO BOLD AS JEST TO COME ROUND
+AND SAY AS I'D GOT A LARGE ASSORTMENT OF _CLERICAL 'ATS_, AND THAT I
+SHOULD BE MOST 'APPY TO PUT 'EM AT HER LADYSHIP'S DISPOSAL!"]
+
+ * * * * *
+
+STILL WILDER IDEAS.
+
+(_Possibilities for the next O. Wilde Play._) _Puppet Number One._
+Let's come into the garden, MAUDLE. I adore the garden. Don't you know
+that the book of at least one good play begins with some epigrams in
+the garden, and ends with----
+
+_Puppet Number Two._ Recitations--strictly puritanical. Well, let's
+go into the garden: there's nothing but Nature to look at there, so we
+will discuss----
+
+_Puppet Number One._ The picture shows. It seems to me there are two
+principles in modern art. The first is--give a picture a good name,
+and they'll hang it.
+
+_Puppet Number Two._ What's--ahem!--what _is_ in a name?
+
+_Puppet Number One._ Usually a good deal more than is in the picture.
+
+_Puppet Number Two._ And the second principle?
+
+_Puppet Number One._ Art is short, and the life (of the average
+Academician) is long.
+
+_Puppet Number Two._ Ah, well. I suppose I shall have to ask you
+sooner or later to define Art.
+
+_Puppet Number One._ Certainly. Art is that which invariably goes one
+better than Nature.
+
+_Puppet Number Two (with a sigh)._ And what is Nature?
+
+_Puppet Number One._ Nature is that which is not so natural as it is
+painted.
+
+_Puppet Number Two (with a groan)._ What about truth in Art then?
+
+_Puppet Number One._ Ah! Truth is that one infirmity of a noble mind.
+
+_Puppet Number Two._ Truth is nothing if not respectable.
+
+_Puppet Number One._ Remember, respectability is an affectation, of
+cynics, dramatic authors--and other people of no importance generally.
+
+[_Exeunt severally. Curtain._
+
+ * * * * *
+
+Mrs. R. observes, "it is only too true that Summer pleasures, as the
+poet says, are nearly always effervescent."
+
+ * * * * *
+
+ESSENCE OF PARLIAMENT.
+
+EXTRACTED FROM THE DIARY OF TOBY, M.P.
+
+_House of Commons, Monday, August 14._--Quite shocked to see ASHER
+to-day. Strong constitution and a happy disposition united to make him
+a picture of buoyant health. Observing him walk up floor of House
+just now, hardly knew him. Shoulders bowed; arms hanging limp; cheeks
+sallow; an unspeakable sorrow in his dimmed eyes.
+
+"What's the matter, Mr. SOLICITOR?" I asked, instinctively falling
+into the whispering tone proper in sick rooms. "Is it the state
+of Scotch business that weighs upon your mind? or is it true, as
+whispered, that necessity has been discovered for bringing in Bill
+amending the Borough Police and Health Act, 1892, with its 435
+clauses?"
+
+"No," said ASHER; "I'm thinking of neither. My thoughts tend in quite
+another direction. My heart is at Deeside, my heart is not here. I
+have a moor there; you understand me--not a person of dark complexion,
+who, after much conversation, disposes of his wife with the assistance
+of a pillow. But a stretch of moorland, gorse-scented, grouse-haunted.
+I awoke early on Saturday morning hearing the popping of the guns in
+far-off Aboyne. Mere fancy, of course. You remember CHARLES LAMB'S
+story about supping with some Scotchmen, and incidentally observing he
+only wished, to make the joy complete, that BURNS were there? One by
+one the Scotchmen got up and explained to him that BURNS had been dead
+for ever so many years, and that it was practically impossible, in
+view of the circumstances, that he could have been present; even, one
+of them added, supposing they knew BURNS, and it had occurred to them
+to invite him. So you will say that Deeside, being hundreds of miles
+away, I could not hear the birds on the wing, or the pottering of the
+guns. In a sense, that is true; but I heard them all the same; worse
+still, heard them when I was in church yesterday, and should have been
+hearing something else. I wouldn't mind missing a day, a week, or, in
+the service of my QUEEN and country, a fortnight. What I see, and what
+gars me greet, is the endless vista of nights and days we shall spend
+here. If we get any shooting at all we shall begin with the pheasants.
+
+ "O my BARTLEY, shallow-pated! O my TOMMY, such a bore!
+ O, my dear belovèd moorland, shall I see thee evermore?"
+
+ASHER'S case representative of many; only his despair is the more
+eloquent.
+
+_Business done._--Marking time in Home-Rule debate.
+
+[Illustration: FATHER THAMES PURIFIED AND GLORIFIED, AS PROMISED BY L.
+C. C.]
+
+_Tuesday._--Just before eight bells, when all hands were piped below,
+Admiral FIELD turned up in favourite character as the honest British
+sailor. Rather modelled on transpontine style; a little unnecessarily
+noisy; too humorously aggressive; hopelessly obvious. But in present
+circumstances House grateful for anything; gleefully laughed whilst
+the Admiral shivered his timbers, talked about losing his soundings in
+a fog, declared against all shams, referred to himself as "honest and
+modest sailor who believed in straightforward action, and refused to
+have his eyes blinded by abstract proposals."
+
+[Illustration: Admiral Field as the honest British Sailor.]
+
+That last phrase didn't sound seafaring, but, as another honest sailor
+was accustomed to say, its bearings lay in the application of it.
+Motion before House was to eliminate Second Chamber from Home-Rule
+scheme; brought forward by Radicals; situation difficult for
+Opposition. If they voted against the Government they would be
+declaring against principle of House of Lords. If they voted with
+them they would be approving a proposition of the hated Bill. JOSEPH
+judiciously got out of difficulty by declining to vote at all.
+PRINCE ARTHUR elaborately explained that in going into Lobby with the
+Radicals he was voting against a concrete proposal and in favour of
+an abstract principle. This too subtle for COURTNEY, who announced his
+intention of voting with Government who happened to agree with him in
+approving principle of Second Chamber. It was amid these cross
+blades that the Admiral, hitching up his trousers, danced a hornpipe.
+TOMLINSON attempting to bring House back to more serious views,
+Members with one accord rushed into Lobby, and Government came out
+with majority of 83.
+
+_Business done._--Seventh night in Report Stage Home-Rule Bill.
+
+_Thursday._--"Whew!" said the Member for SARK. "I don't know what will
+become of us if things go on much longer like this. With a PREMIER
+over eighty, and the thermometer over 90, the situation is at least
+unusual. Even JOSEPH not able to maintain his favourite attitude,
+grafted on the iced cucumber. Just now Mr. G. made a passing remark,
+quite mild compared with JOEY'S own sly hits. J. C. up on instant,
+with boding brow and angry plaint that Mr. G. had attempted to slay
+him with a sneer."
+
+"Yes," said PLUNKET, "times _are_ hot. I don't know what we should do
+without TOMMY BOWLES. The spectacle of his white ducks is to me as the
+shadow of a great rock in a weary land. They talk about an army of
+men in the basement working machinery that keeps the temperature ten
+degrees below what it is marked on the Terrace. Also there is, it
+seems, a ton and a half of ice melting in ventilating chambers at the
+taxpayers' expense for our comfort. But I don't think ice is in
+it with TOMMY'S ducks. Even if they were stationary it would be
+something. But observe how, coming and going, TOMMY'S brain an argosy
+of great thoughts, the ducks seem to skim over our prosaic floor,
+calling up even to the unimaginative mind a vision of deep,
+tree-shaded, quietly-rippling Broad, over which the wild duck swiftly
+moves, waving white wings."
+
+Only PLUNKET, I fancy, could evolve poesy out of to-night's scene; hot
+above precedent, dull beyond endurance.
+
+"PLUNKET'S duck picture cool and refreshing. But," said EDWARD OF
+ARMAGH, drawing on his military experiences, "what we're doing just
+now may be much more accurately described as the goose step."
+
+Quite so. We sit all afternoon and far into the night, always talking,
+sometimes dividing; every appearance of motion, no advance; feet
+lifted with due sign of walking, but when midnight strikes and parade
+dismissed we are found posted exactly at the same spot as that on
+which we took our stand at half-past three in the afternoon.
+
+If Mr. G. means business the sooner he gets about it the better.
+
+_Business done._--None.
+
+_Friday._--Mr. G. does mean business. Commences on Monday, when Motion
+will be made to close Report Stage of Home-Rule Bill. Mere reference
+to it set House bubbling with excitement. Mr. G.'s proposed Resolution
+not yet drafted. "You know how it is," he said, smiling blandly
+at PRINCE ARTHUR; "you've had a good deal of experience in drawing
+Resolutions of this nature." But if Ministers not ready with their
+Resolution, JOSEPH prepared with Amendment. Read it out amid lively
+interruption.
+
+Conversation later conducted with much vigour across the Gangway,
+where, a fortnight ago, GUNTER received an Irish Member (not iced)
+full in pit of stomach. Once the Blameless BARTLEY signalled out
+Member for South Donegal, mentioning him by name as responsible for
+particular exclamations. "Don't presume to mention my name," said
+MACNEILL, leaning across gangway.
+
+[Illustration: Swift MacNeill refuses to be named.]
+
+"Look here, BARTLEY," said TOMMY BOWLES, "if you're going on that
+tack, you must come and sit at this side. When I saw MACNEILL open his
+mouth to speak, I confess I thought I was going to be swallowed whole.
+You sit here; there's more of you."
+
+_Business done._--Notice given that business is about to commence.
+
+ * * * * *
+
+
+
+Transcriber's Note:
+
+Sundry damaged or missing punctuation has been repaired.
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Punch, or the London Charivari, Vol.
+105, August 26th 1893, by Various
+
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+<pre>
+
+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Punch, or the London Charivari, Vol. 105,
+August 26th 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 26th 1893
+
+Author: Various
+
+Editor: Sir Francis Burnand
+
+Release Date: May 19, 2011 [EBook #36142]
+
+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="page85" id="page85"></a>[pg 85]</span>
+
+<h1>PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI</h1>
+
+<h2>VOLUME 105, August 26th 1893</h2>
+
+<h3><i>edited by Sir Francis Burnand</i></h3>
+
+ <hr class="full" />
+
+<h2 class="sans">THE ADVENTURES OF PICKLOCK HOLES.</h2>
+
+<h4>(<i>By Cunnin Toil.</i>)</h4>
+
+<h3>No. III.&mdash;LADY HILDA'S MYSTERY.</h3>
+
+<p>A day or two after the stirring events which I have related as
+taking place at Blobley-in-the-Marsh, and of which, it will be remembered,
+I was myself an astonished spectator, I happened to be
+travelling, partly for business, partly for pleasure, through one of
+the most precipitous of the inaccessible mountain-ranges of
+Bokhara. It is unnecessary for me to state in detail the reasons
+that had induced me once more to go so far a-field. One of the
+primary elements in a physician's success in his career is, that he
+should be able to guard, under a veil of impenetrable silence, the
+secrets confided to his care. It cannot, therefore, be expected of me
+that I should reveal why his Eminence the Cardinal <span class="sc">Dacapo</span>, one of
+the most illustrious of the Princes of the Church, desired that I
+should set off to Bokhara. When the memoirs of the present
+time come to be published, it is possible that no chapter of
+them will give rise to bitterer discussion than that which narrates
+the interview of the redoubtable Cardinal with the humble author of
+this story. Enough, however, of this, at present. On some future
+occasion much more will have to be said about it. I cannot endure
+to be for ever the scape-goat of the great, and, if the Cardinal
+persists in his refusal to do me
+justice, I shall have, in the last
+resort, to tell the whole truth about
+one of the strangest affairs that ever
+furnished gossip for all the most
+brilliant and aristocratic tea-tables
+of the Metropolis.</p>
+
+<p>I was walking along the narrow
+mountain path that leads from
+Balkh to Samarcand. In my right
+hand I held my trusty kirghiz,
+which I had sharpened only that
+very morning. My head was
+shaded from the blazing sun by a
+broad native mollah, presented to
+me by the Khan of <span class="sc">Bokhara</span>, with
+whom I had spent the previous
+day in his Highness's magnificent
+marble and alabaster palace. As
+I walked I could not but be sensible
+of a curiously strained and
+tense feeling in the air&mdash;the sort of
+atmosphere that seems to be, to me
+at least, the invariable concomitant
+of country-house guessing-games.
+I was at a loss to account
+for this most curious phenomenon,
+when, looking up suddenly, I saw
+on the top of an elevated crag in
+front of me the solitary and impassive
+figure of <span class="sc">Picklock Holes</span>,
+who was at that moment engaged
+on one of his most brilliant feats
+of induction. He evinced no surprise whatever at seeing me. A
+cold smile lingered for a moment on his firm and secretive lips, and
+he laid the tips of his fingers together in his favourite attitude of
+deep consideration.</p>
+
+<p>"How are you, my dear <span class="sc">Potson</span>?" he began. "What? not
+well? Dear me, dear me, what can it mean? And yet I don't
+think it can have been the fifth glass of sherbet which you took with
+the fourteenth wife of the <span class="sc">Khan</span>. No, I don't think it can have
+been that."</p>
+
+<p>"<span class="sc">Holes</span>, you extraordinary creature," I broke in; "what on earth
+made you think that I drank five glasses of sherbert with the <span class="sc">Khan's</span>
+fourteenth wife?"</p>
+
+<p>"Nothing simpler, my dear fellow. Just before I saw you a native
+Bokharan goose ran past this rock, making, as it passed, a strange
+hissing noise, exactly like the noise made by sherbert when
+immersed in water. Five minutes elapsed, and then you appeared.
+I watched you carefully. Your lips moved, as lips move only when
+they pronounce the word fourteen. You then smiled and scratched
+your face, from which I immediately concluded you were thinking
+of a wife or wives. Do you follow me?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, I do, perfectly," I answered, overjoyed to be able to say
+so without deviating from the truth; for in following his reasoning
+I did not admit its accuracy. As to that I said nothing, for I had
+drunk sherbert with no one, and consequently had not taken five
+glasses with the fourteenth wife of the <span class="sc">Khan</span>. Still, it was a
+glorious piece of guess-work on the part of my matchless friend,
+and I expressed my admiration for his powers in no measured
+terms.</p>
+
+<p>"Perhaps," said <span class="sc">Holes</span>, after a pause, "you are wondering
+why I am here. I will tell you. You know Lady <span class="sc">Hilda Cardamums</span>?"</p>
+
+<p>"What, the third and loveliest daughter of the Marquis of
+<span class="sc">Sassafras</span>?"</p>
+
+<p>"The same. Two days ago she left her boudoir at Sassafras
+Court, saying that she would return in a quarter of an hour. A
+quarter of an hour elapsed, the Lady <span class="sc">Hilda</span> was still absent. The
+whole household was plunged in grief, and every kind of surmise was
+indulged in to account for the lovely girl's disappearance. Under
+these circumstances the Marquis sent for me, and that," said
+<span class="sc">Holes</span>, "is why I am here."</p>
+
+<p>"But," I ventured to remark, "do you really expect to find
+Lady <span class="sc">Hilda</span> here in Bokhara, on these inhospitable precipices,
+where even the wandering Bactrian finds his footing insecure?
+Surely it cannot be that you have tracked the Lady <span class="sc">Hilda</span>
+hither?"</p>
+
+<p>"Tush," said <span class="sc">Holes</span>, smiling in spite of himself at my vehemence.
+"Why should she not be here? Listen. She was not at Sassafras Court.
+Therefore, she must have been outside Sassafras Court.
+Now in Bokhara <i>is</i> outside Sassafras Court, or, to put it
+algebraically,</p>
+
+<p class="ind1">in Bokhara = outside Sassafras Court.</p>
+
+<p>Substitute 'in Bokhara' for 'outside Sassafras Court,' and you get
+this result&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>'She must have been in Bokhara.'</p>
+
+<p>Do you see any flaw in my
+reasoning?"</p>
+
+<p>For a moment I was unable to
+answer. The boldness and originality
+of this master-mind had as
+usual taken my breath away.
+<span class="sc">Holes</span> observed my emotion with
+sympathy.</p>
+
+<p>"Come, come, my dear fellow!"
+he said; "try not to be too much
+overcome. Of course, I know it
+is not everybody who could track
+the mazes of a mystery so promptly;
+but, after all, by this time you of
+all people in the world ought to have
+grown accustomed to my ways.
+However, we must not linger here
+any longer. It is time for us to restore
+Lady <span class="sc">Hilda</span> to her parents."</p>
+
+<div class="figright" style="width: 300px;"><a href="images/085-800.png"><img src="images/085-300.png" width="300" height="319" alt="'Holes opened it, and read it.'" /></a>
+<p class="center">"Holes opened it, and read it."</p></div>
+
+<p>As <span class="sc">Holes</span> uttered these words
+a remarkable thing happened.
+Round the corner of the crag on
+which we were standing came a
+little native Bokharan telegraph
+boy. He approached <span class="sc">Holes</span>, salaamed
+deferentially, and handed
+him a telegram. <span class="sc">Holes</span> opened it,
+and read it without moving a
+muscle, and then handed it to me.
+This is what I read:&mdash;</p>
+
+<p class="ind1">"<i>To <span class="sc">Holes</span>, Bokhara.</i></p>
+
+<p class="ind">
+"<i><span class="sc">Hilda</span> returned five minutes after you left. Her watch had
+stopped. Deeply grateful to you for all your trouble. <span class="sc">Sassafras.</span></i>"
+</p>
+
+<p>There was a moment's silence, broken by <span class="sc">Holes</span>.</p>
+
+<p>"No," he said, "we must not blame the Lady <span class="sc">Hilda</span> for being
+at Sassafras Court and not in Bokhara. After all, she is young and
+necessarily thoughtless."</p>
+
+<p>"Still, <span class="sc">Holes</span>," I retorted, with some natural indignation, "I
+cannot understand how, after your convincing induction, a
+girl of any delicacy of feeling can have remained away from
+Bokhara."</p>
+
+<p>"I knew she would do so," said my friend, calmly.</p>
+
+<p>"<span class="sc">Holes</span>, you are more wonderful than ever," was all that I
+could murmur. So that is the true story of Lady <span class="sc">Hilda Cardamums'</span>
+return to her family.</p>
+
+<hr class="medium" />
+
+<h3>DANGER!</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza">
+<p>In our London streets, for native or stranger,</p>
+<p>We ought to have notice-boards warning of "Danger!"</p>
+<p>Like those on the Thames near the weirs and locks.</p>
+<p>When Premiers collide, and when Princes get shocks,</p>
+<p>In cabs or in carriages, King Street way driving,</p>
+<p>'Tis time that street warnings the wise were contriving.</p>
+<p>For now it is clear that you might as well try</p>
+<p>To steer a balloon through a thundery sky,</p>
+<p>Or take a stroll near the setting of sun</p>
+<p>In a suburb where cads upon bicycles run;</p>
+<p>Or command&mdash;or serve in&mdash;an ironclad fleet,</p>
+<p>As&mdash;take a drive down St. James's Street!</p>
+ </div> </div>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="page86" id="page86"></a>[pg 86]</span>
+
+<hr class="medium" />
+
+<h3 class="sans">THE LITTLE OLD (PARLIAMENTARY) WOMAN, HER (NEWCASTLE PROGRAMME) SHOE, <br />AND HER IMPORTUNATE CHILDREN.</h3>
+
+<h4>(<i>An old Nursery Rhyme Re-adapted.</i>)</h4>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;"><a href="images/086-1200.png"><img src="images/086-500.png" width="500" height="499" alt="THE LITTLE OLD (PARLIAMENTARY) WOMAN ..." /></a></div>
+
+<div class="poem1"> <div class="stanza">
+<p><span class="sc">There was an Old Woman who lived in her Shoe,</span></p>
+<p><span class="sc">She had so many Children she didn't know what to do;</span></p>
+<p><span class="sc">So she gave them some Broth without any Bread,</span></p>
+<p><span class="sc">Then "Whipped" them all up, and&mdash;sent them to bed!</span></p>
+ </div> </div>
+
+<blockquote><p>
+["Inspired, as it may be presumed, by the more or less remote prospect of the termination of the Home-Rule debate, the political creditors of the
+Government are vieing with one another in urging their respective claims to priority of payment."&mdash;<i>Morning Post.</i></p>
+
+<p style="margin-top: -1em;">"Their bills are the promises of the Newcastle Programme."&mdash;<i>Times.</i>]
+</p></blockquote>
+
+<hr class="medium" />
+
+<h2>LOVE'S LABOUR'S LOST.</h2>
+
+<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza">
+<p>My <span class="sc">Angelina</span> once enjoyed</p>
+<p class="i2">The mild lawn-tennis all the day,</p>
+<p>And did not scorn to be employed</p>
+<p class="i2">In croquet's unexciting fray;</p>
+<p>O truly happy seasons, when</p>
+<p class="i2">I think of you, I wish you back,</p>
+<p>For <span class="sc">Angelina</span> had not then</p>
+<p class="i2">Become a golfing maniac!</p>
+ </div><div class="stanza">
+<p>But now of none of these she thinks,</p>
+<p class="i2">All such pursuits she reckons "slow,"</p>
+<p>And spends the days upon the links,</p>
+<p class="i2">Where nevermore I mean to go:</p>
+<p>For I recall the heartless snubs,</p>
+<p class="i2">Which those enchanting lips let fall,</p>
+<p>When I demolished several clubs,</p>
+<p class="i2">And lost my temper, and the ball.</p>
+ </div><div class="stanza">
+<p>To-day the fickle maid prefers</p>
+<p class="i2">With young <span class="sc">Macduff</span> to pass her time,</p>
+<p>Because his "putting," she avers&mdash;</p>
+<p class="i2">Whatever that be&mdash;"is sublime;"</p>
+<p>And when I get a chance to state</p>
+<p class="i2">The deep affection felt by me,</p>
+<p>She interrupts me to relate</p>
+<p class="i2">How well she did that hole in three!</p>
+ </div><div class="stanza">
+<p>I love my <span class="sc">Angelina</span> still,</p>
+<p class="i2">Yet he who chose her as a wife</p>
+<p>Would be expected to fulfil</p>
+<p class="i2">A caddie's duties all his life;</p>
+<p>So, if I turn away instead,</p>
+<p class="i2">You will not hold me much to blame?</p>
+<p>How <i>can</i> I woo her? She is wed</p>
+<p class="i2">Already&mdash;to this awful game!</p>
+ </div> </div>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="page87" id="page87"></a>[pg 87]</span>
+
+<hr class="medium" />
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;"><a href="images/087a-1500.png"><img src="images/087a-600.png" width="600" height="419" alt="EXPERTO CREDE." /></a>
+<h3 class="sans">EXPERTO CREDE.</h3>
+
+<p><i>Corporal M'Taggart, of the Nairn and Elgin Highlanders (to Photographer).</i>
+"<span class="sc">Hech mon, ye'll neever Hit us that gait,&mdash;ye're
+no allowin' for Windage!</span>"</p></div>
+
+<hr class="medium" />
+
+<h3>CROQUET.</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza">
+<p>O feeblest game, how strange if you should rise</p>
+<p class="i2">To favour, <i>vice</i> tennis superseded!</p>
+<p>And yet beneath such glowing summer skies,</p>
+<p class="i2">When wildest energy is invalided,</p>
+<p class="i4">Mere hitting balls through little hoops</p>
+<p class="i4">Seems work enough. One merely stoops,</p>
+<p class="i2">And lounges round, no other toil is needed.</p>
+ </div><div class="stanza">
+<p>Upon a breezy lawn beneath the shade</p>
+<p class="i2">Of rustling trees that hide the sky so sunny,</p>
+<p>I'll play, no steady game as would be played</p>
+<p class="i2">By solemn, earnest folks as though for money&mdash;</p>
+<p class="i4">For love is better. Simply stoop,</p>
+<p class="i4">And hit the ball. It's through the hoop!</p>
+<p class="i2">My partner smiles; she seems to think it funny.</p>
+ </div><div class="stanza">
+<p>My pretty partner, whose bright, laughing eyes</p>
+<p class="i2">Gaze at me while I aim another blow; lo,</p>
+<p>I've missed because I looked at her! With sighs</p>
+<p class="i2">I murmur an apologetic solo.</p>
+<p class="i4">The proudest athlete here might stoop,</p>
+<p class="i4">To hit a ball just through a hoop,</p>
+<p class="i2">And say the game&mdash;with her&mdash;beats golf and polo.</p>
+ </div> </div>
+
+<hr class="medium" />
+
+<h2>TRUMPS FOR TRAMPS.</h2>
+
+<h4>(<i>From the Story of a Much-considered Nothing.</i>)</h4>
+
+<div class="figleft" style="width: 200px;"><a href="images/087b-500.png"><img src="images/087b-200.png" width="200" height="293" alt="Trumps for Tramps." /></a></div>
+
+<p>THE Tramp was distinctly one of the Unemployed.
+He had no money, no friends, no
+home. He had obtained some work a short
+while since. The labour, of course, had been
+unskilled, and then there had come a strike,
+and the Tramp and his mates had turned out
+with the rest. The Tramp was a little annoyed,
+as he had been fairly satisfied to earn bread
+and butter and meat, and above all, and before
+all, beer. But the leaders of the strike had
+satisfied him that it was entirely for his benefit.
+That as the Tramp could not work up to their
+standard, it was their duty to work down to
+his&mdash;and yet get paid at the same rate of
+wages belonging to the higher scale. This
+seemed to the Tramp pleasant enough. But
+while he waited, he starved; so he was not
+sure that the notion of the strike was so excellent
+after all. But then his brain might have
+been clearer&mdash;it had not been fed (in common
+with the rest of his body) for several days.</p>
+
+<p>So the Tramp&mdash;weary, ragged, and tanned&mdash;wandered
+to the spot where Labour was
+holding her Congress. The last meeting had
+been held, and the final squabble settled when
+he reached his destination. There were a
+couple of well-fed, healthy-looking men,
+dressed in good strong broad-cloth, standing
+outside the meeting-place. They regarded
+the Tramp with some surprise.</p>
+
+<p>"Surely not a Member?" said the first.</p>
+
+<p>"And of course not a Delegate?" hinted the second.</p>
+
+<p>The tramp shook his head. He knew
+nothing about Members and Delegates.</p>
+
+<p>"I thought not," said Number One. "All
+our Members and Delegates are quite of
+respectable appearance."</p>
+
+<p>"Got nothing to do," replied the Tramp,
+laconically.</p>
+
+<p>"Why don't you try the Colonies?" asked
+Number Two. "There has been an immense
+fall in the value of land in Australia. You
+would get it cheap just now. Why not emigrate?
+Why not acquire some land?"</p>
+
+<p>"I don't want land, I want food!" returned the Tramp.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, when we have a vacancy, you shall
+become one of us. We eat, drink, and talk;
+but we don't work. It's the best employment
+out." And the Tramp found it so.</p>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="page88" id="page88"></a>[pg 88]</span>
+
+<hr class="medium" />
+
+<h2 class="sans">'ARRIET ON LABOUR.</h2>
+
+<div class="figright" style="width: 200px;"><a href="images/088-700.png"><img src="images/088-200.png" width="200" height="381" alt="'ARRIET ON LABOUR." /></a></div>
+
+<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza">
+<p>Dear <span class="sc">Polly</span>,&mdash;These are pooty times, and don't you make no herror.</p>
+<p>They gives <i>me</i> twists, though I am called the Tottenham Court Road Terror,</p>
+<p>Along of quantities of pluck, and being such a dasher;</p>
+<p>But now the papers bring hus news as spiles yer mornin' rasher.</p>
+ </div><div class="stanza">
+<p>"Labour is looking up, you bet!" So sez <span class="sc">Sam Jones</span>, our neighbour.</p>
+<p>"I'm glad to 'ear it, <span class="sc">Sam</span>," sez I. "But, <span class="sc">Sammy</span>, wot <i>is</i> Labour?"</p>
+<p><span class="sc">Sam</span> gives his greasy curl a twist, and looks seven ways for Sunday.</p>
+<p>Bit bosky, <span class="sc">Sam</span>, thick in the clear, as usual on Saint Monday.</p>
+ </div><div class="stanza">
+<p>"Labour!" I sez, "Oh, shoo fly, <span class="sc">Sam</span>! You 'orny-'anded codgers&mdash;</p>
+<p><i>Your</i> palm's as soft as putty, <span class="sc">Sam</span>&mdash;are reglar Artful Dodgers.</p>
+<p>Yer Labour, with a capital L, looks mighty fine in print, <span class="sc">Sam</span>,</p>
+<p>But <i>work</i> with a small w&mdash;ah! I see yer takes the 'int, <span class="sc">Sam</span>."</p>
+ </div><div class="stanza">
+<p>That shut <i>him</i> up, the lolloper! He know'd I'd took his measure,</p>
+<p>And squelching 'umbugs always do give me pertikler pleasure.</p>
+<p><span class="sc">Jones</span> sorter set 'is cap at me; I earn good money <i>I</i> do;</p>
+<p>But love as follows L.S.D. 's all fol-der-riddle-dido!</p>
+ </div><div class="stanza">
+<p>"Bashing a knobstick's ripping fun, no doubt&mdash;for them as bashes;</p>
+<p>But this here new petroleum game won't work." Here <span class="sc">Jones's</span> lashes&mdash;</p>
+<p>They're stubby, ginger, sly-fox ones&mdash;got kinder tangle-twinkle.</p>
+<p>I 'ad my eye on 'im, the worm, while working out my winkle.</p>
+ </div><div class="stanza">
+<p>(I'd got a pennorth in a bag; they're things to which I'm partial.)</p>
+<p>"We <i>must</i> bust up Mernopoly," sez <span class="sc">Sam</span>, a-looking martial.</p>
+<p>"The 'Oly Cause o' Labour carn't be stayed by trifles, <span class="sc">'Arriet</span>!</p>
+<p><span class="sc">Judas</span> must 'ang, 'twere weakness to show mercy to <span class="sc">Iscariot</span>!"</p>
+ </div><div class="stanza">
+<p>"Bit o' yer platform gag," sez I. "You keep it for the club, <span class="sc">Sam</span>.</p>
+<p>'Twon't comfort me, nor your old mother toiling at the tub, <span class="sc">Sam</span>.</p>
+<p>The 'Oly Cause o' Labour, <span class="sc">Sam</span> 's, a splendid thing to spout about,</p>
+<p>But it's a thing as skulkers makes <i>the</i> most tremenjus rout about."</p>
+ </div><div class="stanza">
+<p>I'm only just a work-girl, <span class="sc">Poll</span>, one of the larky drudges</p>
+<p>As swarm acrost the bridge at night and 'omeward gaily trudges,</p>
+<p>A tootling "<i>Ta-ra-boom-de-ay</i>," a chaffing of the fellers,</p>
+<p>And flourishing their feathered 'ats bright reds, and blues and yellers.</p>
+ </div><div class="stanza">
+<p>As vulgar as they make 'em, <span class="sc">Poll</span>. Leastways the chaps whose trade is</p>
+<p>To write and dror in Comics, call hus "anythink but ladies."</p>
+<p>Ladies? O lor! On thirteen bob a week, less sundry tanners</p>
+<p>For fines, it's none so easy, <span class="sc">Poll</span>, to keep up style and manners.</p>
+ </div><div class="stanza">
+<p>But work-girls <i>work</i>, and that is more than <span class="sc">Sam</span> and <i>'is</i> sort&mdash;drat 'em!</p>
+<p>When I see shirks platforming, <span class="sc">Poll</span>, I'm longing to get at 'em.</p>
+<p>When Women's Rights include the charnce of gettin' a fair 'earing</p>
+<p>For Women's Wrongs&mdash;wy then there'll be less bashing and less beering.</p>
+ </div><div class="stanza">
+<p>As for the Vote&mdash;well, <i>I</i> dunno. It seems pertikler curious</p>
+<p>That politics makes a man a hass, they drives the fellers furious.</p>
+<p>If Votes sets women by the ears, as they does men, my winky!</p>
+<p>I guess 'twill make domestic life even more crabbed and kinky.</p>
+ </div><div class="stanza">
+<p>Wy <i>my</i> young man&mdash;you know 'im, <span class="sc">Poll</span>&mdash;whose temper's real milky,</p>
+<p>Whose 'art is soft as 'is merstarche&mdash;and that is simply silky&mdash;</p>
+<p>Got that rouged up on polling day, along of a young Tory</p>
+<p>As called him names. I 'ad to 'ug 'im off to stop the gory.</p>
+ </div><div class="stanza">
+<p>The chap was in the 'atting line, and thought <span class="sc">Balfour</span> a 'ero;</p>
+<p>Whereas my <span class="sc">Mick</span> 'as Hirish blood, and calls 'im "Niminy Nero."</p>
+<p>I don't a bit know what they meant, but if them votes should send <i>hus</i></p>
+<p>As fairly off our chumps as men, the shine <i>will</i> be tremendous!</p>
+ </div><div class="stanza">
+<p>We <i>shall</i> 'ave a fair beano then! Well, I'm not nuts on voting.</p>
+<p>Your <span class="sc">'Arriet's</span> lay is&mdash;better pay! <i>That's</i> not wot they're promoting,</p>
+<p>Them spouting Labour Candidates. Of women's work they're jealous;</p>
+<p><i>They</i> light the fire to warm <i>hus</i>? Bah! they're only good at bellows!</p>
+ </div><div class="stanza">
+<p>Their Eight 'Ours Day, and such-like rot, gives me the 'ump, dear <span class="sc">Polly</span>&mdash;</p>
+<p>Wouldn't some women like it, though? Well, 'oping for it's folly,</p>
+<p>Like longing for a seal-skin <i>sweet</i>, or a Marquige for a lover.</p>
+<p>Man's work may be too long sometimes, a woman's <i>never</i> over.</p>
+ </div><div class="stanza">
+<p>Leastways, a <i>married</i> woman's, <span class="sc">Poll</span>. <span class="sc">Mick's</span> 'ot on me to "settle,"</p>
+<p>But eighteen bob a week&mdash;his screw&mdash;ain't much to bile the kettle;</p>
+<p>And I ain't 'ad my fling, not yet. <span class="sc">Mick's</span> reglar smart and sparky,</p>
+<p>But&mdash;when a woman's fairly spliced, it's U. P. with the larky.</p>
+ </div><div class="stanza">
+<p>And oh my, <span class="sc">Poll</span>, I <i>do</i> love larks! Theayters, 'ops, and houtings</p>
+<p>Warm a girl's 'art a rare sight more than politics and spoutings.</p>
+<p><span class="sc">Mick</span> says he 'as his eye upon a "flat," neat and commojus.</p>
+<p><span class="sc">Mick's</span> a good sort, but tied for life to toil&mdash;at eighteen? Ojus!</p>
+ </div><div class="stanza">
+<p>'Ard Labour, and for life, without the hoption! That's a sentence</p>
+<p>As 'ot as <span class="sc">'Arry 'Orkins's</span>, and no place for repentance.</p>
+<p>Ah, <span class="sc">Poll</span>, my girl, a woman's work <i>is</i> Labour, and no skulking.</p>
+<p><i>It</i> must go on though yer old man's out of a job or sulking.</p>
+ </div><div class="stanza">
+<p>Mothers can't strike, or unionise, or make demonsterations.</p>
+<p>The bloke 'as got the bulge on them. Now girls in situations,</p>
+<p>Like you and me, <span class="sc">Poll</span>, <i>'as</i> a chance of larky nights and jolly days,</p>
+<p>Along of arter bizness 'ours, and, now and then, the 'olidays.</p>
+ </div><div class="stanza">
+<p>But 'twixt the cradle and the tub, the old man and 'er needle,</p>
+<p>A married woman's tied up tight. Yus, <span class="sc">Mick</span> may spoon and wheedle,</p>
+<p>But when a woman's got four kids, bad 'ealth, and toke for tiffin,</p>
+<p>Then marriage <i>is</i> a failure, <span class="sc">Poll</span>, I give yer the straight griffin.</p>
+ </div><div class="stanza">
+<p>The goodies slate us shop-girls sharp, say married life or sarvice</p>
+<p>Are more <i>respectabler</i>. Oh lor! Just look at poor <span class="sc">Jane Jarvis</span>!</p>
+<p>She were a dasher, <span class="sc">Jenny</span> were, 'er fringe and feathers took it,</p>
+<p>And now&mdash;'er only 'ope's that <span class="sc">Bill</span> may tire of 'er and 'ook it.</p>
+ </div><div class="stanza">
+<p>You know that purple hostrich plume she were so proud of, <span class="sc">Polly</span>!</p>
+<p>I bought it on 'er for five bob larst week, and it looks jolly</p>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="page89" id="page89"></a>[pg 89]</span>
+<p>In my new 'at. But as she sat a snivellin' o'er that dollar,</p>
+<p>Thinks I if this is married life <span class="sc">'Arriet's</span> not game for collar.</p>
+ </div><div class="stanza">
+<p>She looked so suety and sad, and all them golden tresses</p>
+<p>She was so proud of when it ran to smart new 'ats and dresses,</p>
+<p>Was all tight knotted round 'er knob like oakum on a mop, <span class="sc">Poll</span>.</p>
+<p>Her bright blue eyes in mourning, and&mdash;well, there, I couldn't stop, <span class="sc">Poll</span>.</p>
+ </div><div class="stanza">
+<p>Labour? Well yus, the best of hus must work; yer carn't git quit of it;</p>
+<p>And you and me, <span class="sc">Poll</span>, like the rest, must do our little bit of it.</p>
+<p>But oh, I loves my <i>freedom</i>, <span class="sc">Poll</span>, my hevenings hoff is 'eaven;</p>
+<p>But wives and slavies ain't allowed even one day in seven.</p>
+ </div><div class="stanza">
+<p>Jigger the men! <span class="sc">Sam</span> spouts and shouts about the 'Onest Worker.</p>
+<p>That always means a Man, of course&mdash;<i>he's</i> a smart Man, the shirker!</p>
+<p>But when a Man lives upon his wife, and skulks around his diggings,</p>
+<p>Who is the "'Onest Worker" then?&mdash;Yours truly,</p>
+<p class="i34"><span class="sc">'Arriet 'Iggings.</span></p>
+ </div> </div>
+
+<hr class="medium" />
+
+<h2 class="sans">FROM GRAVE TO GAY; OR, THE SECRET OF SUCCESS.</h2>
+
+<p><span class="sc">Dash Blank</span> was a genius. He had been an immense success at
+school, and had done admirably at the University. He then came up
+to town and tried many things. He was a poet, a musician, an
+artist, an inventor. And everyone he knew, said it was absolutely
+wonderful, and that he should make a fortune. But just at the
+moment he had a fair income, which had been left to him by his
+deceased relative, and there was no occasion to augment his means.
+On the contrary, if anything, his accomplishments were rather a loss
+to him than a gain. So the situation existed for a time.</p>
+
+<p>Then came a crash in the City, and poor <span class="sc">Dash Blank</span> found himself
+penniless. It was then he tried to turn his talents to account,
+but found that their market value was <i>nil</i>, or even less.</p>
+
+<p>But, fortunately, he was "such a genius," and to persons of that
+class often come what may be termed happy thoughts.</p>
+
+<p><span class="sc">Dash Blank</span> disappeared&mdash;completely, absolutely. His absence
+remained unnoticed for some time, and then, of a sudden, his death
+got into the papers. It was copied from one journal to another,
+until the intelligence was conveyed from one end of the Empire to
+the other. Then some one made the discovery that <span class="sc">Dash Blank</span>
+had not been appreciated. Immediately all his brilliant failures
+were unearthed, and advertised into popularity. His poems on
+republication realised hundreds, and his pictures thousands; his
+wonderful invention was patented, turned into a Company of
+Limited Liability, and quickly realised a fortune. <span class="sc">Dash Blank</span>
+was a name to conjure with&mdash;it was typical of success.</p>
+
+<p>At length a statue was erected to
+his memory, and the unveiling became
+an important function. All sorts
+of smart people were present, and the
+finest things imaginable were said
+about his career. When it was all
+over, the Sculptor was
+left alone with what had
+been recently termed his "masterpiece."</p>
+
+<div class="figleft" style="width: 200px;"><a href="images/089a-500.png"><img src="images/089a-200.png" width="200" height="288" alt="Dash Blank" /></a></div>
+
+<p>"No," said he; "it is
+not a bit like poor <span class="sc">Dash</span>.
+I never could get his expression."</p>
+
+<p>"It's not bad," observed
+a man in a cloak,
+who had come up while
+he was murmuring, and
+who now stood beside him;
+"not at all bad, considering
+he never gave you a sitting."</p>
+
+<p>"That's true enough,"
+replied the Sculptor; "but how did
+you know it?"</p>
+
+<p>"Because I happen to be <span class="sc">Dash
+Blank</span> himself!" and then the man
+in the cloak threw off that covering,
+and revealed his identity.</p>
+
+<p>After this came an explanation. The genius noticing that when a
+clever man dies there is always a run upon his works, died himself.
+At any rate that was the impression in the minds of everyone save
+a friendly executor, who collected the money for his estate. Then
+the friendly executor paid the proceeds to the imaginary deceased.</p>
+
+<p>"And shall you resume work?" asked the Sculptor, after he had
+recovered from his astonishment.</p>
+
+<p>"Not I. You need be under no alarm that anyone will compare
+your portrait with the original. I have had enough of work, and
+with my recently accumulated capital, shall try my hand at speculation.
+Good bye, if you are in my neighbourhood, look me up.
+You will find me anywhere between the Arctic and Antarctic
+Zones." And then he went over to America, put his money into
+wooden nutmegs, and promptly became a millionaire.</p>
+
+<hr class="medium" />
+
+<h3>THE "ONE-HORSE" HOUSEHOLDER.</h3>
+
+<h4>(<i>A Solemn Social Ditty.</i>)</h4>
+
+<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza">
+<p>In a region where freshly-built suburbs lie ending</p>
+<p class="i2">'Mid plots of the glum market-gardener's ground,&mdash;</p>
+<p>Its bare, tenantless frontages gloomily blending</p>
+<p class="i2">With grime and neglect that are rampant all round,</p>
+<p>Runs the street, so forlorn it could not be forlorner,</p>
+<p class="i2">Where, looking straight down a "no thoroughfare" road,</p>
+<p>With the blaze of a new public-house at the corner,</p>
+<p class="i2">The sad "One-horse" Householder finds his abode!</p>
+ </div></div>
+
+<div class="figright" style="width: 200px;"><a href="images/089b-500.png"><img src="images/089b-200.png" width="200" height="359" alt="'You ask 'if they're in,' and she looks you all over'" /></a></div>
+
+ <div class="poem"> <div class="stanza">
+<p>'Tis a wilderness wild of dread dilapidations,</p>
+<p class="i2">Where one feeble gas-light illumines the street,</p>
+<p>While right over the way fourteen kitchen foundations</p>
+<p class="i2">Of houses unfinished the aching eye greet!</p>
+<p>How he first chanced to find it his friends often wonder.</p>
+<p class="i2">No omnibus runs within miles of his door,&mdash;</p>
+<p>Nor a train, be it either above-ground or under,</p>
+<p class="i2">Wakes life with its thrice welcome whistle and roar.</p>
+ </div><div class="stanza">
+<p>If you call at that house, you'll be knocking and ringing,</p>
+<p class="i2">Till, with forcible language, you're leaving the place,</p>
+<p>When a slavey, who comes up the hall gaily singing,</p>
+<p class="i2">Flings open the door, with a smut on her face.</p>
+<p>You ask "if they're in," and she looks you all over,&mdash;</p>
+<p class="i2">It's clear she's quite new to an afternoon call,&mdash;</p>
+<p>P'raps takes you for <i>Turpin</i>, <i>Bill Sikes</i>, the <i>Red Rover</i>;</p>
+<p class="i2">But she says that she'll "see," and leaves you in the hall.</p>
+ </div><div class="stanza">
+<p>You are ushered upstairs, which a Dutch carpet graces,</p>
+<p class="i2">To a drawing-room, curtained at threepence a yard,</p>
+<p>Where Japanese gimcracks appear in odd places,</p>
+<p class="i2">Though <span class="sc">Aspinall</span> clearly has proved their trump card;</p>
+<p>For here it envelopes a plain kitchen-table,</p>
+<p class="i2">There a weak wicker lounge which invites not repose;</p>
+<p>And at length you are seated, as well as you're able,</p>
+<p class="i2">On a folding arm-chair that half threatens to close.</p>
+ </div><div class="stanza">
+<p>But they offer you tea, made with unboiling water,</p>
+<p class="i2">A syrupy Souchong at tenpence a pound,</p>
+<p>Which a simpering, woebegone, elderly daughter,</p>
+<p class="i2">With stale bread rancid buttered, is handing around.</p>
+<p>And you think you'll be off: as your talk halts and flounders,</p>
+<p class="i2">For you feel most distinctly, <i>they're not in your line</i>,</p>
+<p>And you say to yourself, "Yes, these <span class="sc">Johnsons</span> <i>are</i> bounders,"</p>
+<p class="i2">But before you can go, <i>you have promised to dine</i>!</p>
+ </div><div class="stanza">
+<p>That same dinner will take you some seasons forgetting!</p>
+<p class="i2">The claret was sour, the "tinned" oysters, Blue Point;</p>
+<p>And moreover 'tis really a little upsetting,</p>
+<p class="i2">For the cook to come up very drunk with the joint!</p>
+<p>And when to crown this you are asked to expel her,</p>
+<p class="i2">And find a Policeman,&mdash;that is, if you could.</p>
+<p>It may soothe you to hear yourself called "a good feller,"</p>
+<p class="i2">But can you admit that the dinner was good?</p>
+ </div><div class="stanza">
+<p>And so when you meet <span class="sc">Johnson</span> going up to the City,</p>
+<p class="i2">It somehow to-day does not strike you as odd,</p>
+<p>That with feelings of scorn not unmingled with pity,</p>
+<p class="i2">You hurry on fast with a stiff little nod.</p>
+<p>Be his craze "speculation," "a crush," "a small dinner,"</p>
+<p class="i2">A christening, marriage, a death or a birth,&mdash;</p>
+<p>There's a limpness of purpose that shows, though no sinner.</p>
+<p class="i2">Why the dim "One-horse" Householder cumbers the earth!</p>
+ </div> </div>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="page90" id="page90"></a>[pg 90]</span>
+
+<hr class="medium" />
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 650px;"><a href="images/090-1500.png"><img src="images/090-600.png" width="600" height="364" alt="A LIVELY PROSPECT." /></a>
+<h2 class="sans">A LIVELY PROSPECT.</h2>
+
+<p><i>Jones (who has come, for the first time, to spend a week at Prigglesly
+Manor).</i> "<span class="sc">Smith, of Balliol, was here; wasn't he,
+Mrs. Prigglesly?</span>"</p>
+
+<p><i>Mrs. Prigglesly.</i> "<span class="sc">Yes; for a week. He's just left. He was quite Nice.
+But I assure you I don't feel a bit the
+<i>Wiser</i> or the <i>Better</i> for any single Thing he said the Whole
+Time!</span>" <span style="float: right; font-size: 0.9em;">[<i>Jones wishes himself anywhere else.</i></span></p></div>
+
+<hr class="medium" />
+
+<h2>MAKING THEM USEFUL.</h2>
+
+<p>See in the papers that school-children at
+Whissendine and elsewhere are taught gardening.
+Excellent idea, this. Small Holdings
+for Small Boys! Decide to try it at my
+"Select Academy for the Sons of Gentlemen,"
+as kitchen garden certainly <i>does</i> want attending
+to, and I can't afford a gardener. Tell
+the boys about it. They want to know if the
+hour a day which I purpose to devote to
+Agriculture is to take the place of
+<i>Bradley's Latin Exercises</i>. On hearing
+that it is, boys seem relieved, and <span class="sc">Smith
+Junior</span> pronounces the scheme a "jolly
+lark." I confess I am pleased to find this
+appreciation of my new arrangement on the
+part of the most troublesome urchin in the
+school.</p>
+
+<p><i>Next Day.</i>&mdash;All the boys are now provided
+with separate plots, spades, rakes, and hoes.
+Youth, in fact, is at the Plough, and
+Myself at the Helm, so we ought to get on
+all right. I purchase for them some young
+cabbage-plants and cucumber-seeds, which
+will go down as "extras" in the bills at the
+end of Term. Boys very active first day.
+<span class="sc">Smith Junior</span> breaks his spade, and gets
+fifty lines. <span class="sc">Jones</span> astonishes me by talking
+about "Three Acres and a Cow." Find
+that his father is a strong Radical. Must
+be careful what I say to <span class="sc">Jones</span>. The general
+opinion seems to be that Gardening is better
+than <i>Bradley's Exercises</i> "by long chalks."
+Encouraging.</p>
+
+<p><i>Week Later.</i>&mdash;In order to gain my prize
+for best cabbages, boys have been stimulating
+their growth with a guano made of chopped
+bones, slate-pencil dust, and ink! Surprisingly
+fine specimens in young <span class="sc">Dodger's</span>
+allotment. Too good to be true. Go out to
+inspect, take up one of his cabbages, and
+find it has no roots. <span class="sc">Dodger</span> admits that
+he bought them from village greengrocer.
+I remark humorously to boys&mdash;"This is
+<span class="sc">Dodger's</span> <i>plot</i>!" Boys cheer me, and, being
+indignant at <span class="sc">Dodger's</span> cheating, make him&mdash;so
+I hear afterwards&mdash;"run the gauntlet"
+in the dormitory the same evening. Hope it
+will do the little sneak good. <span class="sc">Smith Junior</span>
+tries to do circus trick on garden roller.
+Nearly killed. Two hundred lines, and a
+page of <i>Bradley's Exercises</i>. Hear him
+saying that "he wishes <span class="sc">Old Swats</span> (that's
+me) would do his gardening himself, and see
+how <i>he</i> likes it!" No, thanks.</p>
+
+<p><i>End of the Experiment.</i>&mdash;Kitchen garden
+a wreck! There has been a battle royal
+between <span class="sc">Flashboyites</span> and <span class="sc">Smith Juniorites</span>.
+<span class="sc">Flashboy</span> stole all the spades, and
+entrenched himself in an earthwork, which
+the other side stormed. <span class="sc">Smith Junior</span>
+bleeding but triumphant. Says "gardening
+is much better far than <i>Bradley's Exercises</i>."
+Cucumbers (bought as missiles) and potatoes
+lying all about. Several have got through
+school-room windows! Letters arrive from
+parents. Thought they would like the new
+agricultural departure as teaching their boys
+something really useful. But they don't.
+Quite indignant. Say their sons are "not
+intended for market-gardeners." <span class="sc">Smith
+Junior's</span> parent says <i>his</i> boy is "meant for
+the Church." Didn't know this before.
+<span class="sc">Smith Junior</span> will be an ornament of the
+Church Militant at any rate. Drop the gardening,
+and go back to <i>Bradley</i>.</p>
+
+<hr class="medium" />
+
+<h3>"THE USUAL CHANNEL."</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza">
+<p>To what snug refuge do I fly</p>
+<p>When glass is low, and billows high,</p>
+<p>And goodness knows what fate is nigh?&mdash;</p>
+<p class="i10"> My Cabin!</p>
+ </div><div class="stanza">
+<p>Who soothes me when in sickness' grip,</p>
+<p>Brings a consolatary "nip,"</p>
+<p>And earns my blessing, and his tip?&mdash;</p>
+<p class="i10"> The Steward!</p>
+ </div><div class="stanza">
+<p>When persons blessed with fancy rich</p>
+<p>Declare "she" does not roll, or pitch,</p>
+<p>What say&mdash;"The case is hardly sich"?&mdash;</p>
+<p class="i10"> My Senses!</p>
+ </div><div class="stanza">
+<p>What makes me long for <i>real</i> Free Trade,</p>
+<p>When no Douaniers could invade,</p>
+<p>Nor keys, when wanted, be mislaid?&mdash;</p>
+<p class="i10"> My Luggage!</p>
+ </div><div class="stanza">
+<p>What force myself, perhaps another,</p>
+<p>To think (such thoughts we try to smother)</p>
+<p>"The donkey-engine is our brother"?&mdash;</p>
+<p class="i10"> Our Feelings!</p>
+ </div><div class="stanza">
+<p>And what, besides a wobbling funnel,</p>
+<p>Screw-throb, oil-smell, unstable gunwale,</p>
+<p>Converts me to a Channel Tunnel?&mdash;</p>
+<p class="i10"> My Crossing!</p>
+ </div> </div>
+
+<hr class="medium" />
+
+<h3>COOKED AT HEREFORD.</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza">
+<p>The strongest always rule the roast.</p>
+<p class="i2">Yes! we believe it fully;</p>
+<p>So what's the natural result,</p>
+<p class="i2">When <span class="sc">Cooke's</span> opposed by <span class="sc">Pulley</span>?</p>
+<p>Vain contest&mdash;vain the gallant fight!</p>
+<p class="i2">The winner's safely booked,</p>
+<p>And forty-four good witnesses</p>
+<p class="i2">Affirm the <i>poulet's</i> cooked.</p>
+ </div> </div>
+
+ <hr class="medium" />
+
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="page91" id="page91"></a>[pg 91]</span>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;"><a href="images/091-1100.png"><img src="images/091-380.png" width="380" height="485" alt="THE POOR VICTIM!" /></a>
+<h2>THE POOR VICTIM!</h2>
+
+<p><span class="sc">John.</span> "HM! GOOD; MIGHT BE BETTER!"</p>
+
+<p><span class="sc">Jonathan.</span> "HM! BAD; MIGHT BE WORSE!"</p>
+
+<p><span class="sc">The Seal.</span> "THREE MONTHS' CLOSE-TIME! HM! MIGHT HA' MADE IT TWELVE!!"</p></div>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="page92" id="page92"></a>[pg 92]</span><br />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="page93" id="page93"></a>[pg 93]</span>
+
+<hr class="medium" />
+
+<h3 class="sans">ONLY FANCY!</h3>
+
+<div class="figleft" style="width: 200px;"><a href="images/093a-350.png"><img src="images/093a-200.png" width="200" height="248" alt="ONLY FANCY!" /></a></div>
+
+<div class="poem1"> <div class="stanza">
+<p class="i2">Only fancy if the Earth were flat&mdash;</p>
+<p class="i2">As most of those who live upon it are&mdash;</p>
+<p>And you went too near the edge of it, and toppled from the ledge of it,</p>
+<p class="i2">And landed on a distant star!</p>
+<p class="i2">Only fancy, if you fell upon your feet,</p>
+<p class="i2">And recovered pretty quickly from the jar,</p>
+<p>And you understood the lingo which the people speak and sing, oh,</p>
+<p class="i2">Who dwell upon a distant star!</p>
+<p>Only fancy, only fancy, what a lot of things there are</p>
+<p class="i2">Very likely to be met with on a distant star.</p>
+ </div><div class="stanza">
+<p class="i2">A goodish many things would prove</p>
+<p class="i2">Not exactly quite the same as here, I guess;</p>
+<p>P'raps the ladies <i>all</i> are pretty, and the men all smart and witty,</p>
+<p class="i2">And marriage an unqualified success.</p>
+<p class="i2">P'raps, like <span class="sc">Washington</span>, they cannot tell a lie,</p>
+<p class="i2">And gossip is excluded from their talk;</p>
+<p>P'raps with them a thing of course is that beef isn't made of horses,</p>
+<p class="i2">And the milkmen haven't even heard of chalk!</p>
+<p class="i10"> Only fancy, &amp;c.</p>
+ </div><div class="stanza">
+<p class="i2">Perhaps they've no occasion for police,</p>
+<p class="i2">Though they may keep just a few to spoon the cooks;</p>
+<p>If they do, no doubt they're wary whom they make Home Secretary,</p>
+<p class="i2">And the Chief Commissioner's chosen for his looks.</p>
+<p class="i2">Very likely, if they ever play a farce,</p>
+<p class="i2">It contains a pretty moral for the young,</p>
+<p>And perhaps their panorama has a mission, and their drama</p>
+<p class="i2">To the tune of the Old Hundredth's "said or sung."</p>
+<p class="i10"> Only fancy, &amp;c.</p>
+ </div><div class="stanza">
+<p class="i2">Very likely they have guns that will not burst,</p>
+<p class="i2">And machinery that won't get out of gear;</p>
+<p>P'raps they've even ammunition in respectable condition,</p>
+<p class="i2">And vessels that are guaranteed to steer.</p>
+<p class="i2">And it's possible they have Vestries who refrain</p>
+<p class="i2">From swearing at each other when they meet;</p>
+<p>And, though <i>this</i> isn't probable, they may have Boards "unjobable,"</p>
+<p class="i2">And Contractors who will neither bribe nor cheat.</p>
+<p class="i10"> Only fancy, &amp;c.</p>
+ </div><div class="stanza">
+<p class="i2">A Parliament perhaps they may require,</p>
+<p class="i2">But its Members very likely don't obstruct,</p>
+<p>And each Government proposition just delights the Opposition,</p>
+<p class="i2">And anyone who makes a noise is "chucked."</p>
+<p class="i2">Very possibly they do not care for speech,</p>
+<p class="i2">But if indeed they've got a Grand Old Man</p>
+<p>In whom the fancy lingers, why, he talks upon his fingers,</p>
+<p class="i2">And they answer on the self-same plan!</p>
+<p class="i10"> Only fancy, &amp;c.</p>
+ </div> </div>
+
+<hr class="medium" />
+
+<p class="ind">Mrs. R. says there is such a scare now
+about typhoid, that she always takes a tin
+of dis-connecting fluid about with her. She
+also says, a bottle of automatic vinegar is
+very refreshing in church.</p>
+
+<hr class="medium" />
+
+<h3>MY GARDENERESS.</h3>
+
+<blockquote><p>
+["Lady <span class="sc">Carlisle</span> is training an entire staff of
+women gardeners, who, she hopes, will keep the
+grounds of her Yorkshire home in as perfect a
+condition as their male predecessors have done."&mdash;<i>Pall
+Mall Gazette.</i>]
+</p></blockquote>
+
+<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza">
+<p>Come into the garden, <span class="sc">Maud</span>,</p>
+<p class="i2">Why has not the grass been mown?</p>
+<p>Come into the garden, <span class="sc">Maud</span>,</p>
+<p class="i2">Those seeds have never been sown;</p>
+<p>I fear you've been taking your walks abroad&mdash;</p>
+<p class="i2">You blush like a rose full-blown.</p>
+ </div><div class="stanza">
+<p>When the early snail first moves,</p>
+<p class="i2">Before the sun is on high,</p>
+<p>Beginning to gnaw the leaves he loves</p>
+<p class="i2">On the beds, you should always try</p>
+<p>To pick him off with your garden gloves,</p>
+<p class="i2">And stamp on him&mdash;he must die.</p>
+ </div><div class="stanza">
+<p>You can't touch snails? Let that pass,</p>
+<p class="i2">I will smash each one in his shell;</p>
+<p>But when it rains you can roll the grass,</p>
+<p class="i2">When dry can water it well.</p>
+<p>You say you can't wet your boots&mdash;alas!&mdash;</p>
+<p class="i2">Nor work when it's warm, <i>ma belle</i>?</p>
+ </div><div class="stanza">
+<p>And yet your wages you claim;</p>
+<p class="i2">I should like to know what you do.</p>
+<p>In truth I can't bear to blame</p>
+<p class="i2">Such a sweet pretty girl as you;</p>
+<p>So stop as my gardener all the same&mdash;</p>
+<p class="i2">I'll be master and workman too.</p>
+ </div><div class="stanza">
+<p>Queen rose of the rosebud garden of girls,</p>
+<p class="i2">Rough work should never be done</p>
+<p>By delicate hands as white as pearls,</p>
+<p class="i2">You only began for fun;</p>
+<p>So sit, with your parasol over your curls,</p>
+<p class="i2">Whilst I dig like mad in the sun.</p>
+ </div> </div>
+
+<hr class="medium" />
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 400px;"><a href="images/093b-600.png"><img src="images/093b-200.png" width="200" height="400" alt="IMPROVED COSTUME FOR THE METROPOLITAN POLICE ..." /></a>
+<p class="center">IMPROVED COSTUME FOR THE METROPOLITAN
+POLICE DURING THE GREAT HEAT OF 1893.</p></div>
+
+<hr class="medium" />
+
+<h3 class="sans">WHO IS IT?</h3>
+
+<h3><i>A Political Enigma. Compounded from the Press of the Period.</i></h3>
+
+<div class="figright" style="width: 200px;"><a href="images/093c-350.png"><img src="images/093c-200.png" width="200" height="299" alt="A Political Enigma." /></a></div>
+
+<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza">
+<p>He's hopeless of heaven, he's too bad for &mdash;&mdash;,</p>
+<p>(So say Unionist bards, and they ought to know well,)</p>
+<p>He is <span class="sc">Judas</span>-cum-<span class="sc">Cain</span> with a <i>soupçon</i> of <span class="sc">Oates</span>,</p>
+<p>An imperious despot, who grovels for votes;</p>
+<p>A mean truckling tyrant, an autocrat slave;</p>
+<p>A Knave who plays King, and a King who plays Knave.</p>
+<p>A haughty Commander, the tool of his troops,</p>
+<p>A swayer of "items," nose-led by his dupes;</p>
+<p>A Dog-despot, wagged by the tip of his tail,</p>
+<p>A Conspirator potent, whose plot's bound to fail;</p>
+<p>The land's greatest danger, because such a dolt;</p>
+<p>As ruler a scourge, because breeding revolt;</p>
+<p>As political guide ever banefully strong,</p>
+<p>Because the majority sees he is wrong.</p>
+<p>A prolix <i>Polonius</i> who proves his senility</p>
+<p>By taking the shine out of youth and ability:</p>
+<p>A veteran lagging superfluous, whose age</p>
+<p>Puts him "out of it" so, that he fills the whole stage:</p>
+<p>So old that his age gives him every claim,</p>
+<p>Save to decent respect, which, of course, is a shame,</p>
+<p>And absurd "fetish-worship." As Lucifer proud</p>
+<p>And imperious, yet supple of knee to the crowd;</p>
+<p>A <span class="sc">Coriolanus</span> who plays the <span class="sc">Jack Cade</span>;</p>
+<p>A coward of nothing and no one afraid;</p>
+<p>A blundering batsman whom none can bowl out;</p>
+<p>A craven who staggers opponents most stout;</p>
+<p>A traitor who gives his whole life to the State,</p>
+<p>Whose zeal proves his spite, and his service his hate.</p>
+<p>A truckler to treason and trickster for place,</p>
+<p>Whose stubbornness oft throws him out of the race;</p>
+<p>A lover of power and public applause,</p>
+<p>Who dares to oppose the most popular cause.</p>
+<p>A talkative sophist who will <i>not</i> explain;</p>
+<p>A bad-tempered man, ever bland and urbane:</p>
+<p>A casuist no one can half understand,</p>
+<p>But whose sinister purpose is plain as your hand;</p>
+<p>A vituperative and venomous foe,</p>
+<p>Whose speeches with calm magnanimity glow.</p>
+<p>In short, an old dolt, who inflicts dire defeat</p>
+<p>On the smartest young foes he can manage to meet;</p>
+<p>A powerless provoker of dreadful disasters,</p>
+<p>A master of slaves whose mere slaves are his masters;</p>
+<p>A voluble sphinx, and a simple chimæra</p>
+<p>The Age's conundrum, the <i>crux</i> of his æra!</p>
+ </div> <div class="stanza">
+<p class="i14"><i>Mem.</i>:</p>
+</div> <div class="stanza">
+<p>If you can't give a guess at the theme of these rhymes,</p>
+<p>Why, peruse all the papers, and move with the times!</p>
+ </div> </div>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="page94" id="page94"></a>[pg 94]</span>
+
+<hr class="medium" />
+
+<h3 class="sans">AUSTRALIA THE (WITHOUT) GOLDEN.</h3>
+
+<p><span class="sc">Dear Mr. Punch</span>,&mdash;I see
+that, with a view to economy,
+the Victorian Legislature have
+cut down the salary of their
+future Governors to a reasonable
+sum. Every one will
+applaud an act inspired by so
+worthy a motive. Still, as the
+officials who have been thus
+deprived of some of their
+emoluments have a certain
+state to keep up, I think it
+would be only fair were that
+state also to undergo revision.
+With a view to assisting in so
+desirable a programme, I jot
+down a few suggestions.</p>
+
+<p><i>Uniform.</i>&mdash;Future Governors
+not to be required to wear
+gold lace. Yellow braid to
+be sparingly used in decorating
+their frock-coats. Dirks
+to be substituted for swords.
+Cocked-hats no longer to be
+trimmed with feathers.</p>
+
+<p><i>Official Entertainments.</i>&mdash;Governors
+no longer to be required
+to ask Colonials to
+dinner. Luncheons with chops
+and steaks and boiled potatoes
+to be substituted for extensive
+<i>menus</i>. Balls to be given only
+occasionally, and guests to be
+served with the lightest of light
+refreshments (sandwiches and
+lemonade); and if dancing be
+required, dancers to supply
+their own orchestras.</p>
+
+<p><i>Attending State Functions.</i>&mdash;Governors
+no longer to be
+expected to appear in carriage
+and pair. Their Excellencies
+to be entitled to use tram-cars,
+omnibuses, and bicycles.
+When laying a foundation-stone,
+the Governors to be permitted
+to wear double-soled
+boots, and carry umbrellas.</p>
+
+<p><i>Miscellaneous.</i>&mdash;To avoid
+expense, salutes will be dispensed
+with as much as possible.
+When guns are fired, tubes to be used without cartridges.
+Flags not to be flown in wet weather, and Chairs of State always
+to be covered with brown holland. Gaslights to be sparingly
+lighted, and wax-candles abolished.</p>
+
+<p>There, my dear Sir, this should be a relief both to the goose and
+the gander. It is quite right to economise, but it is a little strange
+to find that we get our first hint in this direction from the Antipodes.</p>
+
+<p class="author">Yours truly,</p>
+<p class="author"><span class="sc">Gay without Pay</span>.</p>
+
+<hr class="medium" />
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;"><a href="images/094-1000.png"><img src="images/094-320.png" width="320" height="465" alt="A SLIGHT CONFUSION OF IDEAS." /></a>
+<h3 class="sans">A SLIGHT CONFUSION OF IDEAS.</h3>
+
+<p><i>Local Hatter.</i> "<span class="sc">I 'ope you'll excuse my calling, Sir George; but
+I 'eard as her Ladyship was going to give a Play in the Grounds&mdash;a
+<i>Pastoral</i> Play, they told me&mdash;so I made so bold as jest to come
+round and say as I'd got a large assortment of <i>Clerical 'Ats</i>, and
+that I should be most 'appy to put 'em at her Ladyship's disposal!</span>"</p></div>
+
+<hr class="medium" />
+
+<h3>STILL WILDER IDEAS.</h3>
+
+<p class="center">(<i>Possibilities for the next O. Wilde Play.</i>)</p>
+
+<p><i>Puppet Number One.</i> &nbsp;&nbsp;Let's
+come into the garden, <span class="sc">Maudle</span>.
+I adore the garden.
+Don't you know that the book
+of at least one good play begins
+with some epigrams in the
+garden, and ends with&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p><i>Puppet Number Two.</i> &nbsp;&nbsp;Recitations&mdash;strictly
+puritanical.
+Well, let's go into the garden:
+there's nothing but Nature to
+look at there, so we will discuss&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p><i>Puppet Number One.</i> &nbsp;&nbsp;The
+picture shows. It seems to
+me there are two principles in
+modern art. The first is&mdash;give
+a picture a good name, and
+they'll hang it.</p>
+
+<p><i>Puppet Number Two.</i>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;What's&mdash;ahem!&mdash;what <i>is</i> in
+a name?</p>
+
+<p><i>Puppet Number One.</i> &nbsp;&nbsp;Usually
+a good deal more than is
+in the picture.</p>
+
+<p><i>Puppet Number Two.</i> &nbsp;&nbsp;And
+the second principle?</p>
+
+<p><i>Puppet Number One.</i> &nbsp;&nbsp;Art
+is short, and the life (of the
+average Academician) is
+long.</p>
+
+<p><i>Puppet Number Two.</i> &nbsp;&nbsp;Ah,
+well. I suppose I shall have
+to ask you sooner or later to
+define Art.</p>
+
+<p><i>Puppet Number One.</i> &nbsp;&nbsp;Certainly.
+Art is that which
+invariably goes one better
+than Nature.</p>
+
+<p><i>Puppet Number Two (with
+a sigh).</i> &nbsp;&nbsp;And what is Nature?</p>
+
+<p><i>Puppet Number One.</i> &nbsp;&nbsp;Nature
+is that which is not so
+natural as it is painted.</p>
+
+<p><i>Puppet Number Two (with
+a groan).</i> &nbsp;&nbsp;What about truth
+in Art then?</p>
+
+<p><i>Puppet Number One.</i> &nbsp;&nbsp;Ah!
+Truth is that one infirmity of
+a noble mind.</p>
+
+<p><i>Puppet Number Two.</i> &nbsp;&nbsp;Truth is nothing if not respectable.</p>
+
+<p style="margin-bottom: 3em;"><i>Puppet Number One.</i> &nbsp;&nbsp;Remember, respectability is an affectation,
+of cynics, dramatic authors&mdash;and other people of no importance
+generally. <span style="float: right">[<i>Exeunt severally. Curtain.</i></span></p>
+
+<hr class="medium" />
+
+<p class="ind1">Mrs. R. observes, "it is only too true that Summer pleasures, as
+the poet says, are nearly always effervescent."</p>
+
+<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, August 14.</i>&mdash;Quite shocked to see
+<span class="sc">Asher</span> to-day. Strong constitution and a happy disposition united
+to make him a picture of buoyant health. Observing him walk up
+floor of House just now, hardly knew him. Shoulders bowed; arms
+hanging limp; cheeks sallow; an unspeakable sorrow in his dimmed
+eyes.</p>
+
+<p>"What's the matter, Mr. <span class="sc">Solicitor</span>?" I asked, instinctively
+falling into the whispering tone proper in sick rooms. "Is it the
+state of Scotch business that weighs upon your mind? or is it true,
+as whispered, that necessity has been discovered for bringing in Bill
+amending the Borough Police and Health Act, 1892, with its 435
+clauses?"</p>
+
+<p>"No," said <span class="sc">Asher</span>; "I'm thinking of neither. My thoughts
+tend in quite another direction. My heart is at Deeside, my heart
+is not here. I have a moor there; you understand me&mdash;not a person
+of dark complexion, who, after much conversation, disposes of his
+wife with the assistance of a pillow. But a stretch of moorland,
+gorse-scented, grouse-haunted. I awoke early on Saturday morning
+hearing the popping of the guns in far-off Aboyne. Mere fancy, of
+course. You remember <span class="sc">Charles Lamb's</span> story about supping with
+some Scotchmen, and incidentally observing he only wished, to
+make the joy complete, that <span class="sc">Burns</span> were there? One by one the Scotchmen
+got up and explained to him that <span class="sc">Burns</span> had been dead for ever
+so many years, and that it was practically impossible, in view of the
+circumstances, that he could have been present; even, one of
+them added, supposing they knew <span class="sc">Burns</span>, and it had occurred to
+them to invite him. So you will say that Deeside, being hundreds
+of miles away, I could not hear the birds on the wing, or the pottering
+of the guns. In a sense, that is true; but I heard them all the
+same; worse still, heard them when I was in church yesterday, and
+should have been hearing something else. I wouldn't mind missing
+a day, a week, or, in the service of my <span class="sc">Queen</span> and country, a fortnight.
+What I see, and what gars me greet, is the endless vista of
+nights and days we shall spend here. If we get any shooting at all
+we shall begin with the pheasants.</p>
+
+<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza">
+<p>"O my <span class="sc">Bartley</span>, shallow-pated! O my <span class="sc">Tommy</span>, such a bore!</p>
+<p>O, my dear belovèd moorland, shall I see thee evermore?"</p>
+ </div> </div>
+
+<p><span class="sc">Asher's</span> case representative of many; only his despair is the more
+eloquent.</p>
+
+<p><i>Business done.</i>&mdash;Marking time in Home-Rule debate.</p>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="page95" id="page95"></a>[pg 95]</span>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 650px;"><a href="images/095-1500.png"><img src="images/095-600.png" width="600" height="433" alt="FATHER THAMES PURIFIED AND GLORIFIED, AS PROMISED BY L. C. C." /></a>
+<h3 class="sans">FATHER THAMES PURIFIED AND GLORIFIED, AS PROMISED BY L. C. C.</h3></div>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="page96" id="page96"></a>[pg 96]</span>
+
+<div class="figleft" style="width: 250px;"><a href="images/096a-800.png"><img src="images/096a-250.png" width="250" height="385" alt="Admiral Field as the honest British Sailor." /></a>
+<p class="center">Admiral Field as the honest British Sailor.</p></div>
+
+<p><i>Tuesday.</i>&mdash;Just before eight bells, when all hands were piped
+below, Admiral <span class="sc">Field</span> turned up in favourite character as the
+honest British sailor. Rather modelled on transpontine style; a
+little unnecessarily noisy; too humorously aggressive; hopelessly
+obvious. But in present circumstances House grateful for anything;
+gleefully laughed whilst the Admiral shivered his timbers,
+talked about losing his soundings in a fog, declared against all shams,
+referred to himself as "honest and modest sailor who believed in
+straightforward action, and refused to have his eyes blinded by
+abstract proposals."</p>
+
+<p>That last phrase didn't sound seafaring, but, as another honest
+sailor was accustomed to say, its bearings lay in the application of
+it. Motion before House was to eliminate Second Chamber from
+Home-Rule scheme; brought forward by Radicals; situation
+difficult for Opposition. If they voted against the Government they
+would be declaring against principle of House of Lords. If they voted
+with them they would be approving a proposition of the hated Bill.
+<span class="sc">Joseph</span> judiciously got out of difficulty by declining to vote at all.
+<span class="sc">Prince Arthur</span> elaborately explained that in going into Lobby with
+the Radicals he was voting against a concrete proposal and in favour
+of an abstract principle. This too subtle for <span class="sc">Courtney</span>, who
+announced his intention of voting with Government who happened
+to agree with him in approving principle of Second Chamber. It
+was amid these cross blades that the Admiral, hitching up his
+trousers, danced a hornpipe. <span class="sc">Tomlinson</span> attempting to bring House
+back to more serious views, Members with one accord rushed into
+Lobby, and Government came out with majority of 83.</p>
+
+<p><i>Business done.</i>&mdash;Seventh night in Report Stage Home-Rule Bill.</p>
+
+<p><i>Thursday.</i>&mdash;"Whew!" said the Member for <span class="sc">Sark</span>. "I don't
+know what will become of us if things go on much longer like this.
+With a <span class="sc">Premier</span> over eighty, and the thermometer over 90, the
+situation is at least unusual. Even <span class="sc">Joseph</span> not able to maintain his
+favourite attitude, grafted on the iced cucumber. Just now
+Mr. G. made a passing remark, quite mild compared with <span class="sc">Joey's</span>
+own sly hits. J. C. up on instant, with boding brow and angry
+plaint that Mr. G. had attempted to slay him with a sneer."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," said <span class="sc">Plunket</span>, "times <i>are</i> hot. I don't know what we
+should do without <span class="sc">Tommy Bowles</span>. The spectacle of his white
+ducks is to me as the shadow of a great rock in a weary land. They
+talk about an army of men in the basement working machinery
+that keeps the temperature ten degrees below what it is marked
+on the Terrace. Also there is, it seems, a ton and a half of ice
+melting in ventilating chambers at the taxpayers' expense for our
+comfort. But I don't think ice is in it with <span class="sc">Tommy's</span> ducks. Even
+if they were stationary it would be something. But observe how,
+coming and going, <span class="sc">Tommy's</span> brain an argosy of great thoughts, the
+ducks seem to skim over our prosaic floor, calling up even to the
+unimaginative mind a vision of deep, tree-shaded, quietly-rippling
+Broad, over which the wild duck swiftly moves, waving white
+wings."</p>
+
+<p>Only <span class="sc">Plunket</span>, I fancy, could evolve poesy out of to-night's
+scene; hot above precedent, dull beyond endurance.</p>
+
+<p>"<span class="sc">Plunket's</span> duck picture cool and refreshing. But," said
+<span class="sc">Edward of Armagh</span>, drawing on his military experiences, "what
+we're doing just now may be much more accurately described as the
+goose step."</p>
+
+<p>Quite so. We sit all afternoon and far into the night, always
+talking, sometimes dividing; every appearance of motion, no
+advance; feet lifted with due sign of walking, but when midnight
+strikes and parade dismissed we are found posted exactly at the
+same spot as that on which we took our stand at half-past three in
+the afternoon.</p>
+
+<p>If Mr. G. means business the sooner he gets about it the better.</p>
+
+<div class="figright" style="width: 250px;"><a href="images/096b-800.png"><img src="images/096b-250.png" width="250" height="283" alt="Swift MacNeill refuses to be named." /></a>
+<p class="center">Swift MacNeill refuses to be named.</p></div>
+
+<p><i>Business done.</i>&mdash;None.</p>
+
+<p><i>Friday.</i>&mdash;Mr. G. does mean business. Commences on Monday,
+when Motion will be made to close Report Stage of Home-Rule Bill.
+Mere reference to it set House bubbling with excitement. Mr. G.'s
+proposed Resolution not yet drafted. "You know how it is," he
+said, smiling blandly at <span class="sc">Prince Arthur</span>; "you've had a good deal
+of experience in drawing Resolutions of this nature." But if
+Ministers not ready with their Resolution, <span class="sc">Joseph</span> prepared with
+Amendment. Read it out amid lively interruption.</p>
+
+<p>Conversation later conducted with much vigour across the Gangway,
+where, a fortnight ago, <span class="sc">Gunter</span> received an Irish Member (not
+iced) full in pit of stomach. Once the Blameless <span class="sc">Bartley</span> signalled
+out Member for South Donegal, mentioning him by name as responsible
+for particular exclamations. "Don't presume to mention my
+name," said <span class="sc">MacNeill</span>, leaning across gangway.</p>
+
+<p>"Look here, <span class="sc">Bartley</span>," said <span class="sc">Tommy Bowles</span>, "if you're going
+on that tack, you must come and sit at this side. When I saw
+<span class="sc">MacNeill</span> open his mouth to speak, I confess I thought I was going
+to be swallowed whole. You sit here; there's more of you."</p>
+
+<p><i>Business done.</i>&mdash;Notice given that business is about to commence.</p>
+<hr class="full" />
+
+<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>
+
+</td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+<pre>
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Punch, or the London Charivari, Vol.
+105, August 26th 1893, by Various
+
+*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PUNCH, OR THE LONDON ***
+
+***** This file should be named 36142-h.htm or 36142-h.zip *****
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+
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+
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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Punch, or the London Charivari, Vol. 105,
+August 26th 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 26th 1893
+
+Author: Various
+
+Editor: Sir Francis Burnand
+
+Release Date: May 19, 2011 [EBook #36142]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+*** 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
+
+
+
+
+
+
+PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI
+
+VOLUME 105, August 26th 1893
+
+_edited by Sir Francis Burnand_
+
+
+
+
+THE ADVENTURES OF PICKLOCK HOLES.
+
+(_By Cunnin Toil._)
+
+No. III.--LADY HILDA'S MYSTERY.
+
+A day or two after the stirring events which I have related as taking
+place at Blobley-in-the-Marsh, and of which, it will be remembered,
+I was myself an astonished spectator, I happened to be travelling,
+partly for business, partly for pleasure, through one of the most
+precipitous of the inaccessible mountain-ranges of Bokhara. It is
+unnecessary for me to state in detail the reasons that had induced
+me once more to go so far a-field. One of the primary elements in a
+physician's success in his career is, that he should be able to guard,
+under a veil of impenetrable silence, the secrets confided to his
+care. It cannot, therefore, be expected of me that I should reveal why
+his Eminence the Cardinal DACAPO, one of the most illustrious of the
+Princes of the Church, desired that I should set off to Bokhara. When
+the memoirs of the present time come to be published, it is possible
+that no chapter of them will give rise to bitterer discussion than
+that which narrates the interview of the redoubtable Cardinal with the
+humble author of this story. Enough, however, of this, at present. On
+some future occasion much more will have to be said about it. I
+cannot endure to be for ever the scape-goat of the great, and, if the
+Cardinal persists in his refusal to do me justice, I shall have, in
+the last resort, to tell the whole truth about one of the strangest
+affairs that ever furnished gossip for all the most brilliant and
+aristocratic tea-tables of the Metropolis.
+
+I was walking along the narrow mountain path that leads from Balkh
+to Samarcand. In my right hand I held my trusty kirghiz, which I had
+sharpened only that very morning. My head was shaded from the blazing
+sun by a broad native mollah, presented to me by the Khan of BOKHARA,
+with whom I had spent the previous day in his Highness's magnificent
+marble and alabaster palace. As I walked I could not but be sensible
+of a curiously strained and tense feeling in the air--the sort
+of atmosphere that seems to be, to me at least, the invariable
+concomitant of country-house guessing-games. I was at a loss to
+account for this most curious phenomenon, when, looking up suddenly,
+I saw on the top of an elevated crag in front of me the solitary and
+impassive figure of PICKLOCK HOLES, who was at that moment engaged on
+one of his most brilliant feats of induction. He evinced no surprise
+whatever at seeing me. A cold smile lingered for a moment on his firm
+and secretive lips, and he laid the tips of his fingers together in
+his favourite attitude of deep consideration.
+
+[Illustration: "Holes opened it, and read it."]
+
+"How are you, my dear POTSON?" he began. "What? not well? Dear me,
+dear me, what can it mean? And yet I don't think it can have been the
+fifth glass of sherbet which you took with the fourteenth wife of the
+KHAN. No, I don't think it can have been that."
+
+"HOLES, you extraordinary creature," I broke in; "what on earth
+made you think that I drank five glasses of sherbert with the KHAN'S
+fourteenth wife?"
+
+"Nothing simpler, my dear fellow. Just before I saw you a native
+Bokharan goose ran past this rock, making, as it passed, a strange
+hissing noise, exactly like the noise made by sherbert when immersed
+in water. Five minutes elapsed, and then you appeared. I watched you
+carefully. Your lips moved, as lips move only when they pronounce the
+word fourteen. You then smiled and scratched your face, from which
+I immediately concluded you were thinking of a wife or wives. Do you
+follow me?"
+
+"Yes, I do, perfectly," I answered, overjoyed to be able to say so
+without deviating from the truth; for in following his reasoning I
+did not admit its accuracy. As to that I said nothing, for I had drunk
+sherbert with no one, and consequently had not taken five glasses with
+the fourteenth wife of the KHAN. Still, it was a glorious piece of
+guess-work on the part of my matchless friend, and I expressed my
+admiration for his powers in no measured terms.
+
+"Perhaps," said HOLES, after a pause, "you are wondering why I am
+here. I will tell you. You know Lady HILDA CARDAMUMS?"
+
+"What, the third and loveliest daughter of the Marquis of SASSAFRAS?"
+
+"The same. Two days ago she left her boudoir at Sassafras Court,
+saying that she would return in a quarter of an hour. A quarter of an
+hour elapsed, the Lady HILDA was still absent. The whole household was
+plunged in grief, and every kind of surmise was indulged in to account
+for the lovely girl's disappearance. Under these circumstances the
+Marquis sent for me, and that," said HOLES, "is why I am here."
+
+"But," I ventured to remark, "do you really expect to find Lady HILDA
+here in Bokhara, on these inhospitable precipices, where even the
+wandering Bactrian finds his footing insecure? Surely it cannot be
+that you have tracked the Lady HILDA hither?"
+
+"Tush," said HOLES, smiling in spite of himself at my vehemence.
+"Why should she not be here? Listen. She was not at Sassafras Court.
+Therefore, she must have been outside Sassafras Court. Now in Bokhara
+_is_ outside Sassafras Court, or, to put it algebraically,
+
+ in Bokhara = outside Sassafras Court.
+
+Substitute 'in Bokhara' for 'outside Sassafras Court,' and you get
+this result--
+
+'She must have been in Bokhara.'
+
+Do you see any flaw in my reasoning?"
+
+For a moment I was unable to answer. The boldness and originality of
+this master-mind had as usual taken my breath away. HOLES observed my
+emotion with sympathy.
+
+"Come, come, my dear fellow!" he said; "try not to be too much
+overcome. Of course, I know it is not everybody who could track the
+mazes of a mystery so promptly; but, after all, by this time you of
+all people in the world ought to have grown accustomed to my ways.
+However, we must not linger here any longer. It is time for us to
+restore Lady HILDA to her parents."
+
+As HOLES uttered these words a remarkable thing happened. Round the
+corner of the crag on which we were standing came a little native
+Bokharan telegraph boy. He approached HOLES, salaamed deferentially,
+and handed him a telegram. HOLES opened it, and read it without moving
+a muscle, and then handed it to me. This is what I read:--
+
+ "_To HOLES, Bokhara._
+
+ "_HILDA returned five minutes after you left. Her watch
+ had stopped. Deeply grateful to you for all your trouble.
+ SASSAFRAS._"
+
+There was a moment's silence, broken by HOLES.
+
+"No," he said, "we must not blame the Lady HILDA for being at
+Sassafras Court and not in Bokhara. After all, she is young and
+necessarily thoughtless."
+
+"Still, HOLES," I retorted, with some natural indignation, "I cannot
+understand how, after your convincing induction, a girl of any
+delicacy of feeling can have remained away from Bokhara."
+
+"I knew she would do so," said my friend, calmly.
+
+"HOLES, you are more wonderful than ever," was all that I could
+murmur. So that is the true story of Lady HILDA CARDAMUMS' return to
+her family.
+
+ * * * * *
+
+DANGER!
+
+ In our London streets, for native or stranger,
+ We ought to have notice-boards warning of "Danger!"
+ Like those on the Thames near the weirs and locks.
+ When Premiers collide, and when Princes get shocks,
+ In cabs or in carriages, King Street way driving,
+ 'Tis time that street warnings the wise were contriving.
+ For now it is clear that you might as well try
+ To steer a balloon through a thundery sky,
+ Or take a stroll near the setting of sun
+ In a suburb where cads upon bicycles run;
+ Or command--or serve in--an ironclad fleet,
+ As--take a drive down St. James's Street!
+
+ * * * * *
+
+THE LITTLE OLD (PARLIAMENTARY) WOMAN, HER (NEWCASTLE PROGRAMME) SHOE,
+AND HER IMPORTUNATE CHILDREN.
+
+(_An old Nursery Rhyme Re-adapted._)
+
+[Illustration:
+
+ THERE WAS AN OLD WOMAN WHO LIVED IN HER SHOE,
+ SHE HAD SO MANY CHILDREN SHE DIDN'T KNOW WHAT TO DO;
+ SO SHE GAVE THEM SOME BROTH WITHOUT ANY BREAD,
+ THEN "WHIPPED" THEM ALL UP, AND--SENT THEM TO BED!
+
+ ["Inspired, as it may be presumed, by the more or less remote
+ prospect of the termination of the Home-Rule debate, the
+ political creditors of the Government are vieing with one
+ another in urging their respective claims to priority of
+ payment."--_Morning Post._
+
+ "Their bills are the promises of the Newcastle
+ Programme."--_Times._]
+]
+
+ * * * * *
+
+LOVE'S LABOUR'S LOST.
+
+ My ANGELINA once enjoyed
+ The mild lawn-tennis all the day,
+ And did not scorn to be employed
+ In croquet's unexciting fray;
+ O truly happy seasons, when
+ I think of you, I wish you back,
+ For ANGELINA had not then
+ Become a golfing maniac!
+
+ But now of none of these she thinks,
+ All such pursuits she reckons "slow,"
+ And spends the days upon the links,
+ Where nevermore I mean to go:
+ For I recall the heartless snubs,
+ Which those enchanting lips let fall,
+ When I demolished several clubs,
+ And lost my temper, and the ball.
+
+ To-day the fickle maid prefers
+ With young MACDUFF to pass her time,
+ Because his "putting," she avers--
+ Whatever that be--"is sublime;"
+ And when I get a chance to state
+ The deep affection felt by me,
+ She interrupts me to relate
+ How well she did that hole in three!
+
+ I love my ANGELINA still,
+ Yet he who chose her as a wife
+ Would be expected to fulfil
+ A caddie's duties all his life;
+ So, if I turn away instead,
+ You will not hold me much to blame?
+ How _can_ I woo her? She is wed
+ Already--to this awful game!
+
+ * * * * *
+
+[Illustration: EXPERTO CREDE.
+
+_Corporal M'Taggart, of the Nairn and Elgin Highlanders (to
+Photographer)._ "HECH MON, YE'LL NEEVER HIT US THAT GAIT,--YE'RE NO
+ALLOWIN' FOR WINDAGE!"]
+
+ * * * * *
+
+CROQUET.
+
+ O feeblest game, how strange if you should rise
+ To favour, _vice_ tennis superseded!
+ And yet beneath such glowing summer skies,
+ When wildest energy is invalided,
+ Mere hitting balls through little hoops
+ Seems work enough. One merely stoops,
+ And lounges round, no other toil is needed.
+
+ Upon a breezy lawn beneath the shade
+ Of rustling trees that hide the sky so sunny,
+ I'll play, no steady game as would be played
+ By solemn, earnest folks as though for money--
+ For love is better. Simply stoop,
+ And hit the ball. It's through the hoop!
+ My partner smiles; she seems to think it funny.
+
+ My pretty partner, whose bright, laughing eyes
+ Gaze at me while I aim another blow; lo,
+ I've missed because I looked at her! With sighs
+ I murmur an apologetic solo.
+ The proudest athlete here might stoop,
+ To hit a ball just through a hoop,
+ And say the game--with her--beats golf and polo.
+
+ * * * * *
+
+TRUMPS FOR TRAMPS.
+
+(_From the Story of a Much-considered Nothing._)
+
+[Illustration]
+
+THE Tramp was distinctly one of the Unemployed. He had no money, no
+friends, no home. He had obtained some work a short while since.
+The labour, of course, had been unskilled, and then there had come a
+strike, and the Tramp and his mates had turned out with the rest. The
+Tramp was a little annoyed, as he had been fairly satisfied to earn
+bread and butter and meat, and above all, and before all, beer. But
+the leaders of the strike had satisfied him that it was entirely for
+his benefit. That as the Tramp could not work up to their standard, it
+was their duty to work down to his--and yet get paid at the same
+rate of wages belonging to the higher scale. This seemed to the Tramp
+pleasant enough. But while he waited, he starved; so he was not sure
+that the notion of the strike was so excellent after all. But then his
+brain might have been clearer--it had not been fed (in common with the
+rest of his body) for several days.
+
+So the Tramp--weary, ragged, and tanned--wandered to the spot where
+Labour was holding her Congress. The last meeting had been held, and
+the final squabble settled when he reached his destination. There
+were a couple of well-fed, healthy-looking men, dressed in good strong
+broad-cloth, standing outside the meeting-place. They regarded the
+Tramp with some surprise.
+
+"Surely not a Member?" said the first.
+
+"And of course not a Delegate?" hinted the second.
+
+The tramp shook his head. He knew nothing about Members and Delegates.
+
+"I thought not," said Number One. "All our Members and Delegates are
+quite of respectable appearance."
+
+"Got nothing to do," replied the Tramp, laconically.
+
+"Why don't you try the Colonies?" asked Number Two. "There has been an
+immense fall in the value of land in Australia. You would get it cheap
+just now. Why not emigrate? Why not acquire some land?"
+
+"I don't want land, I want food!" returned the Tramp.
+
+"Well, when we have a vacancy, you shall become one of us. We eat,
+drink, and talk; but we don't work. It's the best employment out." And
+the Tramp found it so.
+
+ * * * * *
+
+'ARRIET ON LABOUR.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+ Dear POLLY,--These are pooty times, and don't you make no herror.
+ They gives _me_ twists, though I am called the Tottenham Court
+ Road Terror,
+ Along of quantities of pluck, and being such a dasher;
+ But now the papers bring hus news as spiles yer mornin' rasher.
+
+ "Labour is looking up, you bet!" So sez SAM JONES, our neighbour.
+ "I'm glad to 'ear it, SAM," sez I. "But, SAMMY, wot _is_ Labour?"
+ SAM gives his greasy curl a twist, and looks seven ways for Sunday.
+ Bit bosky, SAM, thick in the clear, as usual on Saint Monday.
+
+ "Labour!" I sez, "Oh, shoo fly, SAM! You 'orny-'anded codgers--
+ _Your_ palm's as soft as putty, SAM--are reglar Artful Dodgers.
+ Yer Labour, with a capital L, looks mighty fine in print, SAM,
+ But _work_ with a small w--ah! I see yer takes the 'int, SAM."
+
+ That shut _him_ up, the lolloper! He know'd I'd took his measure,
+ And squelching 'umbugs always do give me pertikler pleasure.
+ JONES sorter set 'is cap at me; I earn good money _I_ do;
+ But love as follows L.S.D. 's all fol-der-riddle-dido!
+
+ "Bashing a knobstick's ripping fun, no doubt--for them as bashes;
+ But this here new petroleum game won't work." Here JONES'S lashes--
+ They're stubby, ginger, sly-fox ones--got kinder tangle-twinkle.
+ I 'ad my eye on 'im, the worm, while working out my winkle.
+
+ (I'd got a pennorth in a bag; they're things to which I'm partial.)
+ "We _must_ bust up Mernopoly," sez SAM, a-looking martial.
+ "The 'Oly Cause o' Labour carn't be stayed by trifles, 'ARRIET!
+ JUDAS must 'ang, 'twere weakness to show mercy to ISCARIOT!"
+
+ "Bit o' yer platform gag," sez I. "You keep it for the club, SAM.
+ 'Twon't comfort me, nor your old mother toiling at the tub, SAM.
+ The 'Oly Cause o' Labour, SAM 's, a splendid thing to spout about,
+ But it's a thing as skulkers makes _the_ most tremenjus rout about."
+
+ I'm only just a work-girl, POLL, one of the larky drudges
+ As swarm acrost the bridge at night and 'omeward gaily trudges,
+ A tootling "_Ta-ra-boom-de-ay_," a chaffing of the fellers,
+ And flourishing their feathered 'ats bright reds, and blues and
+ yellers.
+
+ As vulgar as they make 'em, POLL. Leastways the chaps whose trade is
+ To write and dror in Comics, call hus "anythink but ladies."
+ Ladies? O lor! On thirteen bob a week, less sundry tanners
+ For fines, it's none so easy, POLL, to keep up style and manners.
+
+ But work-girls _work_, and that is more than SAM and _'is_
+ sort--drat 'em!
+ When I see shirks platforming, POLL, I'm longing to get at 'em.
+ When Women's Rights include the charnce of gettin' a fair 'earing
+ For Women's Wrongs--wy then there'll be less bashing and less
+ beering.
+
+ As for the Vote--well, _I_ dunno. It seems pertikler curious
+ That politics makes a man a hass, they drives the fellers furious.
+ If Votes sets women by the ears, as they does men, my winky!
+ I guess 'twill make domestic life even more crabbed and kinky.
+
+ Wy _my_ young man--you know 'im, POLL--whose temper's real milky,
+ Whose 'art is soft as 'is merstarche--and that is simply silky--
+ Got that rouged up on polling day, along of a young Tory
+ As called him names. I 'ad to 'ug 'im off to stop the gory.
+
+ The chap was in the 'atting line, and thought BALFOUR a 'ero;
+ Whereas my MICK 'as Hirish blood, and calls 'im "Niminy Nero."
+ I don't a bit know what they meant, but if them votes should send
+ _hus_
+ As fairly off our chumps as men, the shine _will_ be tremendous!
+
+ We _shall_ 'ave a fair beano then! Well, I'm not nuts on voting.
+ Your 'ARRIET'S lay is--better pay! _That's_ not wot they're
+ promoting,
+ Them spouting Labour Candidates. Of women's work they're jealous;
+ _They_ light the fire to warm _hus_? Bah! they're only good at
+ bellows!
+
+ Their Eight 'Ours Day, and such-like rot, gives me the 'ump, dear
+ POLLY--
+ Wouldn't some women like it, though? Well, 'oping for it's folly,
+ Like longing for a seal-skin _sweet_, or a Marquige for a lover.
+ Man's work may be too long sometimes, a woman's _never_ over.
+
+ Leastways, a _married_ woman's, POLL. MICK'S 'ot on me to "settle,"
+ But eighteen bob a week--his screw--ain't much to bile the kettle;
+ And I ain't 'ad my fling, not yet. MICK'S reglar smart and sparky,
+ But--when a woman's fairly spliced, it's U. P. with the larky.
+
+ And oh my, POLL, I _do_ love larks! Theayters, 'ops, and houtings
+ Warm a girl's 'art a rare sight more than politics and spoutings.
+ MICK says he 'as his eye upon a "flat," neat and commojus.
+ MICK'S a good sort, but tied for life to toil--at eighteen? Ojus!
+
+ 'Ard Labour, and for life, without the hoption! That's a sentence
+ As 'ot as 'ARRY 'ORKINS'S, and no place for repentance.
+ Ah, POLL, my girl, a woman's work _is_ Labour, and no skulking.
+ _It_ must go on though yer old man's out of a job or sulking.
+
+ Mothers can't strike, or unionise, or make demonsterations.
+ The bloke 'as got the bulge on them. Now girls in situations,
+ Like you and me, POLL, _'as_ a chance of larky nights and jolly
+ days,
+ Along of arter bizness 'ours, and, now and then, the 'olidays.
+
+ But 'twixt the cradle and the tub, the old man and 'er needle,
+ A married woman's tied up tight. Yus, MICK may spoon and wheedle,
+ But when a woman's got four kids, bad 'ealth, and toke for tiffin,
+ Then marriage _is_ a failure, POLL, I give yer the straight griffin.
+
+ The goodies slate us shop-girls sharp, say married life or sarvice
+ Are more _respectabler_. Oh lor! Just look at poor JANE JARVIS!
+ She were a dasher, JENNY were, 'er fringe and feathers took it,
+ And now--'er only 'ope's that BILL may tire of 'er and 'ook it.
+
+ You know that purple hostrich plume she were so proud of, POLLY!
+ I bought it on 'er for five bob larst week, and it looks jolly
+ In my new 'at. But as she sat a snivellin' o'er that dollar,
+ Thinks I if this is married life 'ARRIET'S not game for collar.
+
+ She looked so suety and sad, and all them golden tresses
+ She was so proud of when it ran to smart new 'ats and dresses,
+ Was all tight knotted round 'er knob like oakum on a mop, POLL.
+ Her bright blue eyes in mourning, and--well, there, I couldn't
+ stop, POLL.
+
+ Labour? Well yus, the best of hus must work; yer carn't git quit
+ of it;
+ And you and me, POLL, like the rest, must do our little bit of it.
+ But oh, I loves my _freedom_, POLL, my hevenings hoff is 'eaven;
+ But wives and slavies ain't allowed even one day in seven.
+
+ Jigger the men! SAM spouts and shouts about the 'Onest Worker.
+ That always means a Man, of course--_he's_ a smart Man, the shirker!
+ But when a Man lives upon his wife, and skulks around his diggings,
+ Who is the "'Onest Worker" then?--Yours truly,
+
+ 'ARRIET 'IGGINGS.
+
+ * * * * *
+
+FROM GRAVE TO GAY; OR, THE SECRET OF SUCCESS.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+DASH BLANK was a genius. He had been an immense success at school,
+and had done admirably at the University. He then came up to town and
+tried many things. He was a poet, a musician, an artist, an inventor.
+And everyone he knew, said it was absolutely wonderful, and that he
+should make a fortune. But just at the moment he had a fair income,
+which had been left to him by his deceased relative, and there was
+no occasion to augment his means. On the contrary, if anything,
+his accomplishments were rather a loss to him than a gain. So the
+situation existed for a time.
+
+Then came a crash in the City, and poor DASH BLANK found himself
+penniless. It was then he tried to turn his talents to account, but
+found that their market value was _nil_, or even less.
+
+But, fortunately, he was "such a genius," and to persons of that class
+often come what may be termed happy thoughts.
+
+DASH BLANK disappeared--completely, absolutely. His absence remained
+unnoticed for some time, and then, of a sudden, his death got into
+the papers. It was copied from one journal to another, until the
+intelligence was conveyed from one end of the Empire to the other.
+Then some one made the discovery that DASH BLANK had not been
+appreciated. Immediately all his brilliant failures were unearthed,
+and advertised into popularity. His poems on republication realised
+hundreds, and his pictures thousands; his wonderful invention was
+patented, turned into a Company of Limited Liability, and quickly
+realised a fortune. DASH BLANK was a name to conjure with--it was
+typical of success.
+
+At length a statue was erected to his memory, and the unveiling became
+an important function. All sorts of smart people were present, and the
+finest things imaginable were said about his career. When it was all
+over, the Sculptor was left alone with what had been recently termed
+his "masterpiece."
+
+"No," said he; "it is not a bit like poor DASH. I never could get his
+expression."
+
+"It's not bad," observed a man in a cloak, who had come up while
+he was murmuring, and who now stood beside him; "not at all bad,
+considering he never gave you a sitting."
+
+"That's true enough," replied the Sculptor; "but how did you know it?"
+
+"Because I happen to be DASH BLANK himself!" and then the man in the
+cloak threw off that covering, and revealed his identity.
+
+After this came an explanation. The genius noticing that when a clever
+man dies there is always a run upon his works, died himself. At any
+rate that was the impression in the minds of everyone save a friendly
+executor, who collected the money for his estate. Then the friendly
+executor paid the proceeds to the imaginary deceased.
+
+"And shall you resume work?" asked the Sculptor, after he had
+recovered from his astonishment.
+
+"Not I. You need be under no alarm that anyone will compare your
+portrait with the original. I have had enough of work, and with my
+recently accumulated capital, shall try my hand at speculation. Good
+bye, if you are in my neighbourhood, look me up. You will find me
+anywhere between the Arctic and Antarctic Zones." And then he went
+over to America, put his money into wooden nutmegs, and promptly
+became a millionaire.
+
+ * * * * *
+
+THE "ONE-HORSE" HOUSEHOLDER.
+
+(_A Solemn Social Ditty._)
+
+[Illustration]
+
+ In a region where freshly-built suburbs lie ending
+ 'Mid plots of the glum market-gardener's ground,--
+ Its bare, tenantless frontages gloomily blending
+ With grime and neglect that are rampant all round,
+ Runs the street, so forlorn it could not be forlorner,
+ Where, looking straight down a "no thoroughfare" road,
+ With the blaze of a new public-house at the corner,
+ The sad "One-horse" Householder finds his abode!
+
+ 'Tis a wilderness wild of dread dilapidations,
+ Where one feeble gas-light illumines the street,
+ While right over the way fourteen kitchen foundations
+ Of houses unfinished the aching eye greet!
+ How he first chanced to find it his friends often wonder.
+ No omnibus runs within miles of his door,--
+ Nor a train, be it either above-ground or under,
+ Wakes life with its thrice welcome whistle and roar.
+
+ If you call at that house, you'll be knocking and ringing,
+ Till, with forcible language, you're leaving the place,
+ When a slavey, who comes up the hall gaily singing,
+ Flings open the door, with a smut on her face.
+ You ask "if they're in," and she looks you all over,--
+ It's clear she's quite new to an afternoon call,--
+ P'raps takes you for _Turpin_, _Bill Sikes_, the _Red Rover_;
+ But she says that she'll "see," and leaves you in the hall.
+
+ You are ushered upstairs, which a Dutch carpet graces,
+ To a drawing-room, curtained at threepence a yard,
+ Where Japanese gimcracks appear in odd places,
+ Though ASPINALL clearly has proved their trump card;
+ For here it envelopes a plain kitchen-table,
+ There a weak wicker lounge which invites not repose;
+ And at length you are seated, as well as you're able,
+ On a folding arm-chair that half threatens to close.
+
+ But they offer you tea, made with unboiling water,
+ A syrupy Souchong at tenpence a pound,
+ Which a simpering, woebegone, elderly daughter,
+ With stale bread rancid buttered, is handing around.
+ And you think you'll be off: as your talk halts and flounders,
+ For you feel most distinctly, _they're not in your line_,
+ And you say to yourself, "Yes, these JOHNSONS _are_ bounders,"
+ But before you can go, _you have promised to dine_!
+
+ That same dinner will take you some seasons forgetting!
+ The claret was sour, the "tinned" oysters, Blue Point;
+ And moreover 'tis really a little upsetting,
+ For the cook to come up very drunk with the joint!
+ And when to crown this you are asked to expel her,
+ And find a Policeman,--that is, if you could.
+ It may soothe you to hear yourself called "a good feller,"
+ But can you admit that the dinner was good?
+
+ And so when you meet JOHNSON going up to the City,
+ It somehow to-day does not strike you as odd,
+ That with feelings of scorn not unmingled with pity,
+ You hurry on fast with a stiff little nod.
+ Be his craze "speculation," "a crush," "a small dinner,"
+ A christening, marriage, a death or a birth,--
+ There's a limpness of purpose that shows, though no sinner.
+ Why the dim "One-horse" Householder cumbers the earth!
+
+ * * * * *
+
+[Illustration: A LIVELY PROSPECT.
+
+_Jones (who has come, for the first time, to spend a week at
+Prigglesly Manor)._ "SMITH, OF BALLIOL, WAS HERE; WASN'T HE, MRS.
+PRIGGLESLY?"
+
+_Mrs. Prigglesly._ "YES; FOR A WEEK. HE'S JUST LEFT. HE WAS QUITE
+NICE. BUT I ASSURE YOU I DON'T FEEL A BIT THE _WISER_ OR THE _BETTER_
+FOR ANY SINGLE THING HE SAID THE WHOLE TIME!" [_Jones wishes himself
+anywhere else._]
+
+ * * * * *
+
+MAKING THEM USEFUL.
+
+See in the papers that school-children at Whissendine and elsewhere
+are taught gardening. Excellent idea, this. Small Holdings for
+Small Boys! Decide to try it at my "Select Academy for the Sons of
+Gentlemen," as kitchen garden certainly _does_ want attending to, and
+I can't afford a gardener. Tell the boys about it. They want to know
+if the hour a day which I purpose to devote to Agriculture is to take
+the place of _Bradley's Latin Exercises_. On hearing that it is, boys
+seem relieved, and SMITH JUNIOR pronounces the scheme a "jolly lark."
+I confess I am pleased to find this appreciation of my new arrangement
+on the part of the most troublesome urchin in the school.
+
+_Next Day._--All the boys are now provided with separate plots,
+spades, rakes, and hoes. Youth, in fact, is at the Plough, and Myself
+at the Helm, so we ought to get on all right. I purchase for them
+some young cabbage-plants and cucumber-seeds, which will go down as
+"extras" in the bills at the end of Term. Boys very active first day.
+SMITH JUNIOR breaks his spade, and gets fifty lines. JONES astonishes
+me by talking about "Three Acres and a Cow." Find that his father is
+a strong Radical. Must be careful what I say to JONES. The general
+opinion seems to be that Gardening is better than _Bradley's
+Exercises_ "by long chalks." Encouraging.
+
+_Week Later._--In order to gain my prize for best cabbages, boys have
+been stimulating their growth with a guano made of chopped bones,
+slate-pencil dust, and ink! Surprisingly fine specimens in young
+DODGER'S allotment. Too good to be true. Go out to inspect, take up
+one of his cabbages, and find it has no roots. DODGER admits that
+he bought them from village greengrocer. I remark humorously to
+boys--"This is DODGER'S _plot_!" Boys cheer me, and, being indignant
+at DODGER'S cheating, make him--so I hear afterwards--"run the
+gauntlet" in the dormitory the same evening. Hope it will do the
+little sneak good. SMITH JUNIOR tries to do circus trick on garden
+roller. Nearly killed. Two hundred lines, and a page of _Bradley's
+Exercises_. Hear him saying that "he wishes OLD SWATS (that's me)
+would do his gardening himself, and see how _he_ likes it!" No,
+thanks.
+
+_End of the Experiment._--Kitchen garden a wreck! There has been a
+battle royal between FLASHBOYITES and SMITH JUNIORITES. FLASHBOY stole
+all the spades, and entrenched himself in an earthwork, which the
+other side stormed. SMITH JUNIOR bleeding but triumphant. Says
+"gardening is much better far than _Bradley's Exercises_." Cucumbers
+(bought as missiles) and potatoes lying all about. Several have got
+through school-room windows! Letters arrive from parents. Thought
+they would like the new agricultural departure as teaching their boys
+something really useful. But they don't. Quite indignant. Say their
+sons are "not intended for market-gardeners." SMITH JUNIOR'S parent
+says _his_ boy is "meant for the Church." Didn't know this before.
+SMITH JUNIOR will be an ornament of the Church Militant at any rate.
+Drop the gardening, and go back to _Bradley_.
+
+ * * * * *
+
+"THE USUAL CHANNEL."
+
+ To what snug refuge do I fly
+ When glass is low, and billows high,
+ And goodness knows what fate is nigh?--
+ My Cabin!
+
+ Who soothes me when in sickness' grip,
+ Brings a consolatary "nip,"
+ And earns my blessing, and his tip?--
+ The Steward!
+
+ When persons blessed with fancy rich
+ Declare "she" does not roll, or pitch,
+ What say--"The case is hardly sich"?--
+ My Senses!
+
+ What makes me long for _real_ Free Trade,
+ When no Douaniers could invade,
+ Nor keys, when wanted, be mislaid?--
+ My Luggage!
+
+ What force myself, perhaps another,
+ To think (such thoughts we try to smother)
+ "The donkey-engine is our brother"?--
+ Our Feelings!
+
+ And what, besides a wobbling funnel,
+ Screw-throb, oil-smell, unstable gunwale,
+ Converts me to a Channel Tunnel?--
+ My Crossing!
+
+ * * * * *
+
+COOKED AT HEREFORD.
+
+ The strongest always rule the roast.
+ Yes! we believe it fully;
+ So what's the natural result,
+ When COOKE'S opposed by PULLEY?
+ Vain contest--vain the gallant fight!
+ The winner's safely booked,
+ And forty-four good witnesses
+ Affirm the _poulet's_ cooked.
+
+[Illustration: THE POOR VICTIM!
+
+JOHN. "HM! GOOD; MIGHT BE BETTER!"
+
+JONATHAN. "HM! BAD; MIGHT BE WORSE!"
+
+THE SEAL. "THREE MONTHS' CLOSE-TIME! HM! MIGHT HA' MADE IT TWELVE!!"]
+
+ * * * * *
+
+ONLY FANCY!
+
+[Illustration]
+
+ Only fancy if the Earth were flat--
+ As most of those who live upon it are--
+ And you went too near the edge of it, and toppled from the ledge of it,
+ And landed on a distant star!
+ Only fancy, if you fell upon your feet,
+ And recovered pretty quickly from the jar,
+ And you understood the lingo which the people speak and sing, oh,
+ Who dwell upon a distant star!
+ Only fancy, only fancy, what a lot of things there are
+ Very likely to be met with on a distant star.
+
+ A goodish many things would prove
+ Not exactly quite the same as here, I guess;
+ P'raps the ladies _all_ are pretty, and the men all smart and witty,
+ And marriage an unqualified success.
+ P'raps, like WASHINGTON, they cannot tell a lie,
+ And gossip is excluded from their talk;
+ P'raps with them a thing of course is that beef isn't made of horses,
+ And the milkmen haven't even heard of chalk!
+ Only fancy, &c.
+
+ Perhaps they've no occasion for police,
+ Though they may keep just a few to spoon the cooks;
+ If they do, no doubt they're wary whom they make Home Secretary,
+ And the Chief Commissioner's chosen for his looks.
+ Very likely, if they ever play a farce,
+ It contains a pretty moral for the young,
+ And perhaps their panorama has a mission, and their drama
+ To the tune of the Old Hundredth's "said or sung."
+ Only fancy, &c.
+
+ Very likely they have guns that will not burst,
+ And machinery that won't get out of gear;
+ P'raps they've even ammunition in respectable condition,
+ And vessels that are guaranteed to steer.
+ And it's possible they have Vestries who refrain
+ From swearing at each other when they meet;
+ And, though _this_ isn't probable, they may have Boards "unjobable,"
+ And Contractors who will neither bribe nor cheat.
+ Only fancy, &c.
+
+ A Parliament perhaps they may require,
+ But its Members very likely don't obstruct,
+ And each Government proposition just delights the Opposition,
+ And anyone who makes a noise is "chucked."
+ Very possibly they do not care for speech,
+ But if indeed they've got a Grand Old Man
+ In whom the fancy lingers, why, he talks upon his fingers,
+ And they answer on the self-same plan!
+ Only fancy, &c.
+
+ * * * * *
+
+Mrs. R. says there is such a scare now about typhoid, that she always
+takes a tin of dis-connecting fluid about with her. She also says, a
+bottle of automatic vinegar is very refreshing in church.
+
+ * * * * *
+
+MY GARDENERESS.
+
+ ["Lady CARLISLE is training an entire staff of women
+ gardeners, who, she hopes, will keep the grounds of her
+ Yorkshire home in as perfect a condition as their male
+ predecessors have done."--_Pall Mall Gazette._]
+
+ Come into the garden, MAUD,
+ Why has not the grass been mown?
+ Come into the garden, MAUD,
+ Those seeds have never been sown;
+ I fear you've been taking your walks abroad--
+ You blush like a rose full-blown.
+
+ When the early snail first moves,
+ Before the sun is on high,
+ Beginning to gnaw the leaves he loves
+ On the beds, you should always try
+ To pick him off with your garden gloves,
+ And stamp on him--he must die.
+
+ You can't touch snails? Let that pass,
+ I will smash each one in his shell;
+ But when it rains you can roll the grass,
+ When dry can water it well.
+ You say you can't wet your boots--alas!--
+ Nor work when it's warm, _ma belle_?
+
+ And yet your wages you claim;
+ I should like to know what you do.
+ In truth I can't bear to blame
+ Such a sweet pretty girl as you;
+ So stop as my gardener all the same--
+ I'll be master and workman too.
+
+ Queen rose of the rosebud garden of girls,
+ Rough work should never be done
+ By delicate hands as white as pearls,
+ You only began for fun;
+ So sit, with your parasol over your curls,
+ Whilst I dig like mad in the sun.
+
+ * * * * *
+
+[Illustration: IMPROVED COSTUME FOR THE METROPOLITAN POLICE DURING THE
+GREAT HEAT OF 1893.]
+
+ * * * * *
+
+WHO IS IT?
+
+_A Political Enigma. Compounded from the Press of the Period._
+
+[Illustration]
+
+ He's hopeless of heaven, he's too bad for ----,
+ (So say Unionist bards, and they ought to know well,)
+ He is JUDAS-cum-CAIN with a _soupcon_ of OATES,
+ An imperious despot, who grovels for votes;
+ A mean truckling tyrant, an autocrat slave;
+ A Knave who plays King, and a King who plays Knave.
+ A haughty Commander, the tool of his troops,
+ A swayer of "items," nose-led by his dupes;
+ A Dog-despot, wagged by the tip of his tail,
+ A Conspirator potent, whose plot's bound to fail;
+ The land's greatest danger, because such a dolt;
+ As ruler a scourge, because breeding revolt;
+ As political guide ever banefully strong,
+ Because the majority sees he is wrong.
+ A prolix _Polonius_ who proves his senility
+ By taking the shine out of youth and ability:
+ A veteran lagging superfluous, whose age
+ Puts him "out of it" so, that he fills the whole stage:
+ So old that his age gives him every claim,
+ Save to decent respect, which, of course, is a shame,
+ And absurd "fetish-worship." As Lucifer proud
+ And imperious, yet supple of knee to the crowd;
+ A CORIOLANUS who plays the JACK CADE;
+ A coward of nothing and no one afraid;
+ A blundering batsman whom none can bowl out;
+ A craven who staggers opponents most stout;
+ A traitor who gives his whole life to the State,
+ Whose zeal proves his spite, and his service his hate.
+ A truckler to treason and trickster for place,
+ Whose stubbornness oft throws him out of the race;
+ A lover of power and public applause,
+ Who dares to oppose the most popular cause.
+ A talkative sophist who will _not_ explain;
+ A bad-tempered man, ever bland and urbane:
+ A casuist no one can half understand,
+ But whose sinister purpose is plain as your hand;
+ A vituperative and venomous foe,
+ Whose speeches with calm magnanimity glow.
+ In short, an old dolt, who inflicts dire defeat
+ On the smartest young foes he can manage to meet;
+ A powerless provoker of dreadful disasters,
+ A master of slaves whose mere slaves are his masters;
+ A voluble sphinx, and a simple chimaera
+ The Age's conundrum, the _crux_ of his aera!
+
+_Mem._:
+
+ If you can't give a guess at the theme of these rhymes,
+ Why, peruse all the papers, and move with the times!
+
+ * * * * *
+
+AUSTRALIA THE (WITHOUT) GOLDEN.
+
+DEAR MR. PUNCH,--I see that, with a view to economy, the Victorian
+Legislature have cut down the salary of their future Governors to a
+reasonable sum. Every one will applaud an act inspired by so worthy a
+motive. Still, as the officials who have been thus deprived of some of
+their emoluments have a certain state to keep up, I think it would
+be only fair were that state also to undergo revision. With a view to
+assisting in so desirable a programme, I jot down a few suggestions.
+
+_Uniform._--Future Governors not to be required to wear gold lace.
+Yellow braid to be sparingly used in decorating their frock-coats.
+Dirks to be substituted for swords. Cocked-hats no longer to be
+trimmed with feathers.
+
+_Official Entertainments._--Governors no longer to be required to
+ask Colonials to dinner. Luncheons with chops and steaks and boiled
+potatoes to be substituted for extensive _menus_. Balls to be given
+only occasionally, and guests to be served with the lightest of light
+refreshments (sandwiches and lemonade); and if dancing be required,
+dancers to supply their own orchestras.
+
+_Attending State Functions._--Governors no longer to be expected to
+appear in carriage and pair. Their Excellencies to be entitled to use
+tram-cars, omnibuses, and bicycles. When laying a foundation-stone,
+the Governors to be permitted to wear double-soled boots, and carry
+umbrellas.
+
+_Miscellaneous._--To avoid expense, salutes will be dispensed with
+as much as possible. When guns are fired, tubes to be used without
+cartridges. Flags not to be flown in wet weather, and Chairs of State
+always to be covered with brown holland. Gaslights to be sparingly
+lighted, and wax-candles abolished.
+
+There, my dear Sir, this should be a relief both to the goose and the
+gander. It is quite right to economise, but it is a little strange to
+find that we get our first hint in this direction from the Antipodes.
+
+ Yours truly,
+ GAY WITHOUT PAY.
+
+ * * * * *
+
+[Illustration: A SLIGHT CONFUSION OF IDEAS.
+
+_Local Hatter._ "I 'OPE YOU'LL EXCUSE MY CALLING, SIR GEORGE; BUT
+I 'EARD AS HER LADYSHIP WAS GOING TO GIVE A PLAY IN THE GROUNDS--A
+_PASTORAL_ PLAY, THEY TOLD ME--SO I MADE SO BOLD AS JEST TO COME ROUND
+AND SAY AS I'D GOT A LARGE ASSORTMENT OF _CLERICAL 'ATS_, AND THAT I
+SHOULD BE MOST 'APPY TO PUT 'EM AT HER LADYSHIP'S DISPOSAL!"]
+
+ * * * * *
+
+STILL WILDER IDEAS.
+
+(_Possibilities for the next O. Wilde Play._) _Puppet Number One._
+Let's come into the garden, MAUDLE. I adore the garden. Don't you know
+that the book of at least one good play begins with some epigrams in
+the garden, and ends with----
+
+_Puppet Number Two._ Recitations--strictly puritanical. Well, let's
+go into the garden: there's nothing but Nature to look at there, so we
+will discuss----
+
+_Puppet Number One._ The picture shows. It seems to me there are two
+principles in modern art. The first is--give a picture a good name,
+and they'll hang it.
+
+_Puppet Number Two._ What's--ahem!--what _is_ in a name?
+
+_Puppet Number One._ Usually a good deal more than is in the picture.
+
+_Puppet Number Two._ And the second principle?
+
+_Puppet Number One._ Art is short, and the life (of the average
+Academician) is long.
+
+_Puppet Number Two._ Ah, well. I suppose I shall have to ask you
+sooner or later to define Art.
+
+_Puppet Number One._ Certainly. Art is that which invariably goes one
+better than Nature.
+
+_Puppet Number Two (with a sigh)._ And what is Nature?
+
+_Puppet Number One._ Nature is that which is not so natural as it is
+painted.
+
+_Puppet Number Two (with a groan)._ What about truth in Art then?
+
+_Puppet Number One._ Ah! Truth is that one infirmity of a noble mind.
+
+_Puppet Number Two._ Truth is nothing if not respectable.
+
+_Puppet Number One._ Remember, respectability is an affectation, of
+cynics, dramatic authors--and other people of no importance generally.
+
+[_Exeunt severally. Curtain._
+
+ * * * * *
+
+Mrs. R. observes, "it is only too true that Summer pleasures, as the
+poet says, are nearly always effervescent."
+
+ * * * * *
+
+ESSENCE OF PARLIAMENT.
+
+EXTRACTED FROM THE DIARY OF TOBY, M.P.
+
+_House of Commons, Monday, August 14._--Quite shocked to see ASHER
+to-day. Strong constitution and a happy disposition united to make him
+a picture of buoyant health. Observing him walk up floor of House
+just now, hardly knew him. Shoulders bowed; arms hanging limp; cheeks
+sallow; an unspeakable sorrow in his dimmed eyes.
+
+"What's the matter, Mr. SOLICITOR?" I asked, instinctively falling
+into the whispering tone proper in sick rooms. "Is it the state
+of Scotch business that weighs upon your mind? or is it true, as
+whispered, that necessity has been discovered for bringing in Bill
+amending the Borough Police and Health Act, 1892, with its 435
+clauses?"
+
+"No," said ASHER; "I'm thinking of neither. My thoughts tend in quite
+another direction. My heart is at Deeside, my heart is not here. I
+have a moor there; you understand me--not a person of dark complexion,
+who, after much conversation, disposes of his wife with the assistance
+of a pillow. But a stretch of moorland, gorse-scented, grouse-haunted.
+I awoke early on Saturday morning hearing the popping of the guns in
+far-off Aboyne. Mere fancy, of course. You remember CHARLES LAMB'S
+story about supping with some Scotchmen, and incidentally observing he
+only wished, to make the joy complete, that BURNS were there? One by
+one the Scotchmen got up and explained to him that BURNS had been dead
+for ever so many years, and that it was practically impossible, in
+view of the circumstances, that he could have been present; even, one
+of them added, supposing they knew BURNS, and it had occurred to them
+to invite him. So you will say that Deeside, being hundreds of miles
+away, I could not hear the birds on the wing, or the pottering of the
+guns. In a sense, that is true; but I heard them all the same; worse
+still, heard them when I was in church yesterday, and should have been
+hearing something else. I wouldn't mind missing a day, a week, or, in
+the service of my QUEEN and country, a fortnight. What I see, and what
+gars me greet, is the endless vista of nights and days we shall spend
+here. If we get any shooting at all we shall begin with the pheasants.
+
+ "O my BARTLEY, shallow-pated! O my TOMMY, such a bore!
+ O, my dear beloved moorland, shall I see thee evermore?"
+
+ASHER'S case representative of many; only his despair is the more
+eloquent.
+
+_Business done._--Marking time in Home-Rule debate.
+
+[Illustration: FATHER THAMES PURIFIED AND GLORIFIED, AS PROMISED BY L.
+C. C.]
+
+_Tuesday._--Just before eight bells, when all hands were piped below,
+Admiral FIELD turned up in favourite character as the honest British
+sailor. Rather modelled on transpontine style; a little unnecessarily
+noisy; too humorously aggressive; hopelessly obvious. But in present
+circumstances House grateful for anything; gleefully laughed whilst
+the Admiral shivered his timbers, talked about losing his soundings in
+a fog, declared against all shams, referred to himself as "honest and
+modest sailor who believed in straightforward action, and refused to
+have his eyes blinded by abstract proposals."
+
+[Illustration: Admiral Field as the honest British Sailor.]
+
+That last phrase didn't sound seafaring, but, as another honest sailor
+was accustomed to say, its bearings lay in the application of it.
+Motion before House was to eliminate Second Chamber from Home-Rule
+scheme; brought forward by Radicals; situation difficult for
+Opposition. If they voted against the Government they would be
+declaring against principle of House of Lords. If they voted with
+them they would be approving a proposition of the hated Bill. JOSEPH
+judiciously got out of difficulty by declining to vote at all.
+PRINCE ARTHUR elaborately explained that in going into Lobby with the
+Radicals he was voting against a concrete proposal and in favour of
+an abstract principle. This too subtle for COURTNEY, who announced his
+intention of voting with Government who happened to agree with him in
+approving principle of Second Chamber. It was amid these cross
+blades that the Admiral, hitching up his trousers, danced a hornpipe.
+TOMLINSON attempting to bring House back to more serious views,
+Members with one accord rushed into Lobby, and Government came out
+with majority of 83.
+
+_Business done._--Seventh night in Report Stage Home-Rule Bill.
+
+_Thursday._--"Whew!" said the Member for SARK. "I don't know what will
+become of us if things go on much longer like this. With a PREMIER
+over eighty, and the thermometer over 90, the situation is at least
+unusual. Even JOSEPH not able to maintain his favourite attitude,
+grafted on the iced cucumber. Just now Mr. G. made a passing remark,
+quite mild compared with JOEY'S own sly hits. J. C. up on instant,
+with boding brow and angry plaint that Mr. G. had attempted to slay
+him with a sneer."
+
+"Yes," said PLUNKET, "times _are_ hot. I don't know what we should do
+without TOMMY BOWLES. The spectacle of his white ducks is to me as the
+shadow of a great rock in a weary land. They talk about an army of
+men in the basement working machinery that keeps the temperature ten
+degrees below what it is marked on the Terrace. Also there is, it
+seems, a ton and a half of ice melting in ventilating chambers at the
+taxpayers' expense for our comfort. But I don't think ice is in
+it with TOMMY'S ducks. Even if they were stationary it would be
+something. But observe how, coming and going, TOMMY'S brain an argosy
+of great thoughts, the ducks seem to skim over our prosaic floor,
+calling up even to the unimaginative mind a vision of deep,
+tree-shaded, quietly-rippling Broad, over which the wild duck swiftly
+moves, waving white wings."
+
+Only PLUNKET, I fancy, could evolve poesy out of to-night's scene; hot
+above precedent, dull beyond endurance.
+
+"PLUNKET'S duck picture cool and refreshing. But," said EDWARD OF
+ARMAGH, drawing on his military experiences, "what we're doing just
+now may be much more accurately described as the goose step."
+
+Quite so. We sit all afternoon and far into the night, always talking,
+sometimes dividing; every appearance of motion, no advance; feet
+lifted with due sign of walking, but when midnight strikes and parade
+dismissed we are found posted exactly at the same spot as that on
+which we took our stand at half-past three in the afternoon.
+
+If Mr. G. means business the sooner he gets about it the better.
+
+_Business done._--None.
+
+_Friday._--Mr. G. does mean business. Commences on Monday, when Motion
+will be made to close Report Stage of Home-Rule Bill. Mere reference
+to it set House bubbling with excitement. Mr. G.'s proposed Resolution
+not yet drafted. "You know how it is," he said, smiling blandly
+at PRINCE ARTHUR; "you've had a good deal of experience in drawing
+Resolutions of this nature." But if Ministers not ready with their
+Resolution, JOSEPH prepared with Amendment. Read it out amid lively
+interruption.
+
+Conversation later conducted with much vigour across the Gangway,
+where, a fortnight ago, GUNTER received an Irish Member (not iced)
+full in pit of stomach. Once the Blameless BARTLEY signalled out
+Member for South Donegal, mentioning him by name as responsible for
+particular exclamations. "Don't presume to mention my name," said
+MACNEILL, leaning across gangway.
+
+[Illustration: Swift MacNeill refuses to be named.]
+
+"Look here, BARTLEY," said TOMMY BOWLES, "if you're going on that
+tack, you must come and sit at this side. When I saw MACNEILL open his
+mouth to speak, I confess I thought I was going to be swallowed whole.
+You sit here; there's more of you."
+
+_Business done._--Notice given that business is about to commence.
+
+ * * * * *
+
+
+
+Transcriber's Note:
+
+Sundry damaged or missing punctuation has been repaired.
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Punch, or the London Charivari, Vol.
+105, August 26th 1893, by Various
+
+*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PUNCH, OR THE LONDON ***
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