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diff --git a/36142.txt b/36142.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..151356b --- /dev/null +++ b/36142.txt @@ -0,0 +1,1564 @@ +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 *** + +***** This file should be named 36142.txt or 36142.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/3/6/1/4/36142/ + +Produced by Lesley Halamek, Malcolm Farmer and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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