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+The Project Gutenberg eBook, Punch, or the London Charivari, Vol. 105,
+November 11, 1893, by Various, Edited by Sir F. C. Burnand
+
+
+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, November 11, 1893
+
+
+Author: Various
+
+Editor: Sir F. C. Burnand
+
+Release Date: April 10, 2012  [eBook #39420]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+
+***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI,
+VOL. 105, NOVEMBER 11, 1893***
+
+
+E-text prepared by Malcolm Farmer, Lesley Halamek, and the Online
+Distributed Proofreading Team (http://www.pgdp.net)
+
+
+
+Note: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this
+      file which includes the original illustrations.
+      See 39420-h.htm or 39420-h.zip:
+      (http://www.gutenberg.org/files/39420/39420-h/39420-h.htm)
+      or
+      (http://www.gutenberg.org/files/39420/39420-h.zip)
+
+
+
+
+
+PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI
+
+VOL. 105
+
+NOVEMBER 11th 1893
+
+Edited by Sir Francis Burnand
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+[Illustration: POLICE PROTECTION FOR PIANISTS!!
+
+MADE NECESSARY BY THE ANTICS OF THE PADDED-ROOMSKI DEVOTEES AT ST.
+JAMES'S HALL, WHO RUSH AT, TRY TO EMBRACE, AND DECK WITH ROSES, A
+CERTAIN MASTER WHENEVER HE APPEARS.]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+A QUESTION OF TINT.
+
+["Who will paint London?"--_Daily News_.]
+
+  What a question to ask! If the colour be blue,
+  A batch of our London Minervas will do:
+  For each one will dye--the allusion is shocking--
+  Our town and its streets with the tint of her stocking.
+  Our pessimist frauds and the Ibsensite pack
+  Will groan as they thickly bedaub it in black.
+  Asiatic Sir EDWIN, the Poet of Light,
+  He will wipe out their work, and arrange it in white.
+  Then the Company-gulls will arrive on the scene,
+  And, _presto_, the colour of London is green.
+  And a rare crew of "Johnnies" will stay out of bed
+  Till the daylight appears, while they paint the town red.
+  In fact--and you'll thank me for giving the hint--
+  Painting London is merely a question of tint.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+MRS. R. cannot call to mind where the original picture of "_The
+Waterloo Blanket_" is to be seen.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+THE NOBLE ORGAN-GRINDER.
+
+["Lord BRASSEY never goes on a cruise, however short, without taking
+with him a very costly barrel-organ. He plays on it regularly for
+some time every evening, as he finds it a congenial form of exercise
+and amusement."--_The World._]
+
+  Grinder, when serenely grinding
+    On your yacht the Hundredth Psalm,
+  Tell me, are you truly finding
+    In this work congenial charm?
+
+  "Music hath" (an old quotation)
+    "Charms to soothe the savage breast,"
+  Think how you might lull some nation
+    Into dilettante rest.
+
+  GRINDER, gentle-hearted Grinder,
+    Try the savage who has spurned
+  Culture, for he might grow kinder,
+    Soothed by barrel deftly turned.
+
+  Matabele LOBENGULA
+    (Accent on penultimate)
+  Might be made by music, you'll a-
+    gree, a model potentate.
+
+  ORPHEUS like, you might so charm him
+    That a mere Mashona child's
+  Hand could easily disarm him
+    In those equatorial wilds.
+
+  He would cease to wear his skimpy
+    Kilts that leave his legs half bare,
+  He would soon disband his _impi_;
+    Culture then would be his care.
+
+  Suits of dittos clothe this whopper;
+    Patent leather boots be got;
+  You might lead him--"smash, my topper!"--
+    Even to a chimney-pot.
+
+  He would have a daily paper,
+    Standard authors sold in parts,
+  Shops of tailor, hatter, draper,
+    An Academy of Arts.
+
+  He would teach, by plays, the loyal
+    Folk on marsh or fertile plain,
+  Opening a Theatre Royal,
+    Where they've only Reeds and Grain.
+
+  And, till death made him a _Morgue_ 'un,
+    WAGNER, BRAHMS and GREIG no doubt
+  He would doat on--then your organ
+    Might be ruthlessly chucked out.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+THE CENTRAL HALL OF THE LAW COURTS.
+
+  O barristers' wigs from far and wide
+                  You gather anew!
+  The Strand, like meadow with daisies pied,
+                  Is dotted with you.
+
+  You crowd the courts, so stuffy, so small,
+                  So awkwardly placed;
+  You don't go into the Central Hall--
+                  Magnificent waste!
+
+  That thing of beauty was meant to be
+                  For ever a joy,
+  Just built to accommodate, as we see,
+                  One messenger boy.
+
+  Proud emblem he of the empire's might,
+                  That thus, for a whim,
+  Spent pounds in thousands with such delight
+                  Just to shelter him.
+
+  The courts are draughty, the courts are dark,
+                  The passages small,
+  And witness, client, solicitor, clerk,
+                  Are squeezed in them all.
+
+  Those lancet windows on winding stairs
+                  Don't help one to see;
+  A falling Commissioner even swears
+                  Without any fee.
+
+  Still though we stumble and though we're squeezed,
+                  We all recollect
+  That deserted Hall, and we're truly pleased
+                  With it's fine effect.
+
+  The vacant acre of paving there
+                  Should never annoy,
+  It has one occupant, we 're aware--
+                  That messenger boy.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+SONG OF THE AUTUMN SESSION.
+
+(BY A RELUCTANTLY RETURNED M.P.)
+
+AIR--"_O! that will be joyful!_"
+
+  HERE we suffer grief and pain,
+  Here we part to meet again:
+      No field, no copse, no moor!
+          O! it will be jawful,
+          Jawful, jawful, jawful!
+          O! isn't it awful?
+      Autumn Meet's an awful bore!
+
+  All who hate the "Lords," you know,
+  Swear this misery below,
+      We owe to peers above!
+          O! that, &c.
+
+  We'll be lammed by LABOUCHERE,
+  Who the Afric strife will swear
+      Is due to RHODES'S rule.
+          O! won't _he_ be jawful, &c.
+
+  ASHMEAD, too, will strive to prove
+  Freedom, prestige, all we love
+      We'll lose to gain no more,
+          Through GLADSTONE the jawful, &c.
+
+  O! how weary we shall be,
+  Ere the two Big Bills, or three,
+      Are passed and Peer-wards gone!
+          O! WEG will be jawful, &c.
+
+  Then the Rads will shout with joy,
+  And the short Recess employ,
+      In larrupping the Lords!
+          O! won't _they_ be jawful?--
+          Awful, awful, awful!
+          It shouldn't be lawful
+      Autumn Meets to summon more!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+THE WHIRLIGIG OF TIME.--WAT TYLER is avenged--upon wicked WALWORTH,
+and unfair history. A namesake of his is to be Lord Mayor of London!
+All we want now is, that the Right Hon. Mr. JOHN CADE (of Birmingham?)
+should be made Prime Minister.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+DR. DULCAMARA UP TO DATE; OR, WANTED A QUACK-QUELCHER.
+
+    ["_The jury, in giving their verdict, strongly censured the
+    gross ignorance of the accused, and regretted that there was
+    no law to prevent them from practising surgery._"]
+
+    [Illustration] _Mr. Punch sings, sotto voce:_--
+
+_Begone, Dulcamara_,
+  _I prythee begone from me!_
+_Begone, Dulcamara_,
+  _Thou and I will never agree!_
+
+  _AGREE?_ By all good powers, no! no more than oil and water!
+  For to the conscious humbug honest wrath should give no quarter;
+
+  And if _Punch's_ ready _bâton_ lays its thwacks on any backs
+  With special zest, it is on those of charlatans and quacks.
+
+  Quack! Quack! Quack! Oh the pestilential pack!
+  If there is a loathsome chorus, it is Quack! Quack! Quack!
+
+  But the Quacks are having high old times in these peculiar days,
+  And gulls mistake their horrid din, 'twould seem, for pleasant lays.
+  We are quacked into distraction by unchastened power of Jaw,
+  Assisted by Advertisement and unrestrained by Law.
+  Dulcamara up to date is no longer poor or petty,
+  The pompous, brainless charlatan pictured by DONIZETTI,
+  He outshines, out-talks, out-thumps, out-cheats, out-swaggers, and
+          out-dresses,
+  With his nauseous, noxious nostrums, and his nasty, mucky messes.
+  Quack! Quack! Quack! He may quack the donkeys dead,
+  Their coin out of their purses and their eyes out of their head,
+  Their brains into sheer softening, their bodies to the grave,
+  But _he_ flourishes unpunished. Is there _nothing_ then to save
+  The noodles from his ignorance and knavery and bounce?
+  No law to lay him by the heels, no hangman's whip to trounce,
+  No pillory to gibbet the false fortune-piling pack
+  Who poison, maim, and madden with their Quack! Quack! Quack?
+
+  Dulcamara stands defiant, while his drum the live air fills
+  With praise of his appliances, his potions, and his pills.
+  With sham science for his shield, venal literature and art
+  For his touts and advertisers, he can bravely play his part.
+  The comic man will clown for him, if adequately paid,
+  And the poet and the painter puff his wares and push his trade.
+  He's proudly testimonialised; folly or purchased cunning
+  Crack up his nastiest nostrums, keep his worst deceptions running.
+  He will bleed you and blackmail you, if you're weak as well as
+          wealthy,
+  Impoverish _and_ drench you, aye, do aught--save leave you healthy.
+  For 'tis quack, quack, quack! and 'tis drum, drum, drum!
+  And Dulcamara--when not _worse_--is safe to prove a hum!
+
+  Quack! Quack! Quack! It is time that cry to quelch
+  By Law--or else to treat the quacks like sorry rogues who "welsh";
+  And if Dulcamara's really safe, until the Law they alter,
+  Why honest men must see to it, nor in their purpose falter
+  Till rascals of "gross ignorance," in foul gregarious pack,
+  Can no longer _safely_ victimise with quack, quack, quack!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration: THE LION AT HOME.
+
+_The Hope and Pride of the Family (just home from the Grand Tour)._
+"OH, REALLY, YOU KNOW, THE MEN ONE MEETS IN SOME OF THOSE PLACES OUT
+WEST! I SAID TO MYSELF EVERY NIGHT, 'WELL, THANK HEAVEN I HAVEN'T SHOT
+ANYBODY!'" _Fond and Nervous Mother._ "YOU MEAN, THANK HEAVEN NOBODY
+SHOT YOU, DON'T YOU, DEAR?"]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+A WORD TO THE WISE WHEELMAN.
+
+THE SPEAKER, at Warwick, said that "the bicyclists of the day are
+debilitating and degenerating the human race by the way in which they
+stoop over their work." The wheelmen would probably retort that, like
+GOLDSMITH'S sprightly heroine, they "stoop to conquer." And we are
+not yet _all_ wheelmen. Still, the SPEAKER has hit a blot in the
+contemporary Cyclomania. Few things are more unlovely than the
+"Bicyclist's Bend." Record-cutting would be purchased dearly at the
+cost of making men look like camels; and if success on the cinderpath
+or the road involved giving humanity at large "the hump," one would
+stigmatise the Cycle Race as the _In_human Race. Let us hope the
+SPEAKER'S sharp words will make our stooping cyclists "sit up"--in
+other than the slangy sense of the phrase.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Birds of Pray.
+
+  We're told a cormorant sits, and doth not tire,
+  For a whole month, perched upon Newark spire!
+  VINNY BOURNE'S jackdaw's beaten, it is clear.
+  Yet there _are_ cormorants who, year after year,
+  Perch in the Church. But these omnivorous people
+  Favour the pulpit mostly, not the steeple.
+  Thrivers upon fat livings find, no doubt,
+  Cormorant within is cosier than without.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+CREAM OF THE CREAM.--"London Society proper"--we are informed by Lady
+CHARLES BERESFORD--consists of no more than thirty or forty families!
+And how about London Society _improper_? Is _that_ equally sparse and
+exclusive? And--terrible thought!--crucial question!--is it possible
+that the two orders _overlap_ at all? That there are any "noble
+swells" who belong to both?
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+THE GOVERNMENT'S PUBLIC POLICY IN SOUTH AFRICA (ACCORDING TO MR.
+SYDNEY BUXTON).--_Not_ "CARRINGTON'S Entire"!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+UNDER THE ROSE.
+
+(_A Story in Scenes_).
+
+SCENE XIII.--_"Behind" at the Eldorado._ TIME--_about_ 10 P.M.; _the
+Stage at the back of the Scene-cloth is in partial darkness; in the
+centre, a pile of lumber and properties. Bare whitewashed brick walls;
+at one side, two canvas cabins for the Lady-Artistes to change their
+costumes; near them a deal table, with a jug and glasses. At one of
+the wings, behind the proscenium, a shelf and small mirror, at which
+the Comedians can arrange their make-up, and a frame, in which a
+placard, with each Artiste's number, is inserted before his or her
+entrance. A "turn" has just been concluded, and the Stage is clear._
+
+_The Stage-Manager_ (_bustling up to_ Footman, _in crimson plush
+breeches_). Now then, look alive, there, can't you, they're getting
+impatient in front. Why don't you change the number?
+
+_Footman_ (_with aggrieved dignity_). Because, Sir, Mr. ALF REDBEAK
+ought to come on, by rights, and, not 'aving chosen to appear yet, I
+think you'll see yourself, on reflection, as it would be totally----
+
+_Stage-M._ Well, don't argue about it; here's Miss LUSHBOY ready to go
+on, put _her_ number up!
+
+_Footm._ I always understood it was the regulation 'ere that no number
+was to be put up until the band-parts were passed into the orchestra;
+which Miss LUSHBOY'S music most certainly has not been handed in yet,
+and, that bein' so----
+
+_Stage-M._ You can spare a good yard off that tongue of yours, you
+can; put Miss LUSHBOY'S number up, and----Ah, here comes Mr. REDBEAK;
+never mind.
+
+_Enter_ Mr. REDBEAK, _breathless_.
+
+_Mr. Redbeak._ Phew! I've had a job to get 'ere in time, I can tell
+you. (_The Orchestra strikes up._) 'Ullo, _that_ ain't mine. (_To_
+Footman.) What are you about? Put up my number--sharp, now!
+
+_Miss Lushboy_ (_to_ Footman). Here, let me go on; I've been messing
+about long enough. What are you taking my number out for?
+
+_Footm._ Now, look 'ere, Miss, I can't please everybody! (_Indicating_
+Stage-Manager.) You are as well aware as what I am that it's for _him_
+to give the word 'ere, not me. I'm on'y actin' under what----
+
+_Mr. Redb._ It's crule, you know, that's what it is--crule. I've got
+to go right across London for my next turn, and----
+
+_The Stage-M._ (_returning_). What the blazes are we waiting for
+_now_? ALF, dear boy, you should come up to time. (_To_ Footman.) Why
+don't you do as you're told? You're getting too big for your boots, it
+strikes me! (_To_ Miss LUSHBOY.) There, go on, my dear, go on.
+
+    [Miss L. _bounds on to the stage, and begins her song_.
+
+_Mr. Redb._ (_to_ Footman). I've got a bone to pick with you, old
+feller. Don't you go wool-gatherin' to-night, as you did last. I've
+told you till I'm tired that when you see me chuck this
+property piecrust into the wings you've got to throw down these
+fire-irons--it's a safe laugh every time it comes off, and you know
+'ow important it is, and yet you forget it nine times out of ten!
+What's the good of me thinkin' out my business when you go and crab it
+for me?
+
+_Footm._ (_pathetically_). Mr. REDBEAK, Sir, you'll excuse me, but
+I'm on'y one man 'ere, I ain't a 'undred. _Don't_ thank 'eaven for
+it, Sir, it's 'ard when a man as tries to do his best, and with all my
+responsibilities on him----
+
+_Mr. Redb._ (_impatiently_). Oh, cheese it; you're not on a stool in
+'Ide Park, are you? I'm only _tellin'_ you.
+
+[Illustration: "It's like singing to a lot of 'ap'ny ices!"]
+
+_Miss L._ (_on stage, singing chorus_).
+
+  Say, boys, say, if you'd like to come. Who's for a merry old
+            "Tiddley-um?"
+    Fall in behind, and we'll all get "blind," before they close the
+            pub!
+  You're not jays, so you won't refuse. Join our band, for we're on
+            the booze,
+    And you'll see some larks with the rollicking sparks of the Rowdy
+            Razzle Club!
+
+(_Here she capers off, brandishing a gibus, and has a difficulty in
+opening the practicable door in the wing._ _To_ Footman.) There you
+are _again!_ How often am I to tell you to keep that wood open for my
+dance off? I break my fingers over it every blessed night, and lose my
+encore as well!
+
+_Footm._ I'm exceedingly sorry, miss, but the fact of the matter is my
+attention was took off at the time owing to----
+
+_Miss L._ Oh, hold _your_ jaw, do.
+
+_Footm._ (_to himself_). I'm to hold my jaw! Oh, these hartistes, they
+lead me a dorg's life among 'em!
+
+_Mr. Redb._ (_touching_ Miss L.'s _coat as she passes_). What's that
+badge you're wearing? Salvation Army, Temperance, Primrose League, or
+what?
+
+_Miss L._ No, only the colours of the Balls Pond Football Team;
+they presented them to me the other day. I told them _I_ didn't play
+football.
+
+_Mr. Redb._ You're pretty fair at the 'igh kick though, ain't you?
+There, there. 'Alf time. Goin' on again?
+
+_Miss L._ With a cold like mine? Not likely. Just look at my
+tongue! (_She protrudes the tip of an indigo-coloured tongue for his
+inspection._)
+
+_Mr. Redb._ (_concerned_). Why, it's like one o' those Chow-chow dogs,
+I'm blest if it isn't! You _are_ off colour to-night, no mistake!
+
+_Miss L._ Oh, that's the remedy, not the disease--liquorice, you know.
+
+_Stage-M._ Now, ALF, if you're in such a hurry, go on. Cut it as short
+as you like--no extra turns to-night.
+
+_Mr. Redb._ No fear. Oh dear, oh dear, such a rush as it is!
+
+    [_He goes on grumbling._
+
+_A Small Boy_ (_who has been sitting patiently on a chair by the
+wing--to_ Stage-Manager). If you please, Sir, will Mr. WILDFIRE want
+me to-night?
+
+_Miss L._ Want you, indeed, you silly kid! What would Mr. WILDFIRE
+want a shrimp like you for?
+
+_The Boy._ If he's going to do the Sandwich Man 'ere to-night, he'll
+want me, _I_ know. Why, it all _depends_ on me, that song does. (_To_
+Stage-M.) _Is_ he going to do the Sandwich Man to-night, Sir?
+
+_Stage-M._ Oh, don't bother me; wait till he comes and you'll find
+out. (_To_ Miss L.) I suppose you've heard he's talking of not
+renewing his engagement after to-night--giving up the halls
+altogether!
+
+_Miss L._ And no great loss either! I don't see anything particular
+about his songs myself. As for all that gas about his raising the tone
+of the halls, it's sickening. Anyone would suppose we _lowered_ it!
+
+_Miss Cissie Cinders (coming out of a dressing-cabin, in a battered
+old velvet hat and broken feathers, with her face smudged)._ Who's
+that you're talking about? WILDFIRE? Ah, my dear, this 'Igh Art and
+Littery rot'll be the ruin of the 'alls--him and his articles in
+the swell magazines, praising us all up--he can keep his praises to
+himself--_I_ don't want 'em! I've never set up to refine the public
+myself, or else I could fake it easy enough!
+
+    [_She passes on to stage._
+
+_Mr. Gus. Tadman_ (_Variety Vocalist_). We could all do it, come to
+that. But there, he won't last, you'll see. Why, look at the 'it I
+made with my "_Rorty Naughty Nell_"! That _was_ a good song if you
+like, and well-written, mind yer. But lor, it's clean forgotten now.
+I 'ear WILDFIRE'S bringing out a play to-night at the Hilarity, it'll
+serve him right if it gets the bird, going back on his own profession
+like that! (_To_ Miss CINDERS, _who has just sung_.) House cold
+to-night?
+
+_Miss Cinders_ (_in a temper_). Cold, it's like singing to a lot
+of 'ap'ny ices! I used to have the choruses all sung for me when I
+brought out that song first; and now they've let me go off without a
+'and! We shall see whether they'll rise to WILDFIRE to-night. Ah, here
+he is. Actually coming up to speak to us; there's an honour!
+
+_Miss Betsy Beno_ (_to_ WILDFIRE, _as he passes the table where she is
+sitting waiting for her turn_). 'Ere, WATTY, old man, stop and 'ave
+a drop along of me. Do--there's plenty 'ere! (_as_ WILDFIRE _excuses
+himself laughingly_). Well, I'm sure--refusing to drink when a lady
+goes out of her way to ask him--he hasn't the manners of a pig! And I
+draw my sixty quid a week the same as he does!
+
+_Mr. Tadman._ Well, dear boy, how's the play getting on? Not a frost,
+I hope?
+
+_Wildfire._ No; I just looked in on my way from the Val. here, and
+they seemed to think it was all right; but I couldn't stay till the
+finish. They're going to send round and let me know. (_To the_ Small
+Boy, _who has approached anxiously_.) Oh, there you are, youngster!
+Yes, I shall want you--for the last time, you know.
+
+_The Boy._ Why, you--you ain't going to take the part away from me,
+Sir, when I created it, too!
+
+_Wildf._ (_patting his shoulder kindly_). I'm giving up singing
+altogether--that's why. Never mind; I'll see it makes no difference to
+you, so don't you distress yourself. We'll find you something or other
+to do.
+
+_The Boy_ (_with a gulp_). If I ain't going to be with _you_ any
+more, I--I don't care _what_ 'appens, Sir. I'd as soon throw up the
+perfession myself, I would!
+
+    [_He turns away into a dark corner._
+
+_Wildf._ (_to himself, as he goes to the wing_). Nice boy that; didn't
+think he'd care so much; must keep an eye on him. _Flattery_ must
+be over now. I wish I could have stayed to see it out; it was going
+magnificently; but there were some rather risky scenes ahead. Still, I
+believe it's a success; and, if it is, I shall have done with all this
+for ever after to-night. I can go to ALTHEA and tell her, without----
+By Jove! wasn't it to-night that Old TOOVEY was to be in front? I
+wonder what he'll think of it. (_He looks at himself in the mirror._)
+He'll have some difficulty in recognising me in this get up. Well, I
+shall know on Monday. (_He goes on, and sings; then rushes back to the
+wing to change his costume, with the assistance of his dresser._) Yes,
+the coat, now, dresser, please. (_To himself, as he paints some lines
+on his face._) I couldn't see anyone at all like old TOOVEY. Very odd!
+They must have sent him the box, I suppose. Well, it doesn't
+matter; if he didn't think it necessary to come, so much the better.
+(_Aloud._) Wigpaste, please. Now the boards. All right--I'm ready.
+(_To the Boy._) Now, youngster, look out for your cue.
+
+    [_He goes on._
+
+_The Limelight Man_ (_up in the flies--to himself_). What's wrong with
+Mr. WILDFIRE? He as nearly broke down just now as----and I can't keep
+the limelight on him nohow to-night! He can't have been drinking--he
+ain't _that_ sort. But he do look bad--it's as much as ever he can do
+to go through with it; somethink's given him a turn.
+
+_Wildfire_ (_to himself, as he goes back to the wing, unsteadily_).
+She's here--and, what's worse, she's recognised me! She must have, or
+she would never have looked like that. If I could only have told her
+first; but, to discover it like this,--she'll think I meant to----
+(_He pitches away his boards in a fury._) Well, I've done for
+myself--it's all over! (_To his dresser._) A note, eh?
+
+[_He opens it, and reads the contents mechanically_; Mr. TADMAN
+_and one or two other artistes come up with curiosity on seeing his
+expression_.
+
+_Tadm._ Why, WILDFIRE, old man, what's this? Play gone wrong? Never
+mind, dear boy, we can't have everything. But what's the report, eh?
+
+_Wildf._ (_impatiently_). Oh, I don't know. What does it matter now?
+(_He lets the note fall._) There, you can read it if you want to know.
+
+    [_He walks away._
+
+_Tadm._ (_with complacency_). Poor chap, he's hard hit! But I could
+have told him it wasn't to be expected that---- (_He picks up the
+note, and reads it with a falling jaw._) Hullo! What's the meaning of
+this? It says the piece is a tremendous go--safe for a long run--had
+to raise the rag again and again. Why, he'll make his fortune over
+this alone; and yet, look at him! (_Pointing to_ WILDFIRE, _who has
+seated himself on the pile of lumber, in utter dejection_.) And all
+those fools in front clapping and stamping for him to come on again.
+What _more_ does the feller want, I wonder!
+
+END OF SCENE XIII.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+UNION IS (LOGICAL) WEAKNESS.--The Congregational Union lays it down as
+a law, "that the rights of humanity must take precedence of those
+of property." We fear this admirable maxim (like equally admirable
+Charity) might be made to cover a multitude of sins, from petty
+larceny to anarchism. Would it be consonant with the "rights of
+humanity," for, say, a Congregational Unionist to object to a poor
+tramp stealing his best umbrella on a wet day?
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+ROBERT ON THE COMING SHO.
+
+WELL, here we are just about gitting to the bend of our Citty Year,
+when we changes our raining Sovverain, altho he is but twelve munse
+old, and takes on a new one, for better or wuss as the case may
+be, and in this case I most suttenly thinks that it would be werry
+differcult indeed to change for a better, for it tisn't not only me
+and all my tribe, as _Shylock_ calls us, but all the many hundreds,
+if not thowsends, as has had a share of the Rite Honnerabel the LORD
+MARE'S noble ospitality, must all agree that a more liberaller, or
+hospitaler, or hopen artider Gent never entered the honored Manshun
+House than him who to ewerybody's regret is a going next week for to
+leave it!
+
+[Illustration]
+
+Why, I ardly expecs to be beleeved when I says as we have sumtimes had
+as many as three or fore grand Bankwets in one week, and the LORD MARE
+woud get up as usual the nex morning as if he thort nothink of it!
+No more he did, no not ewen when the King of DENMARK himself came
+and dined with him at Gildall, and explained to him all about the
+unfortnet death of _Prince Hamlet!_
+
+I do hear as we are to have such a Lord Mare's Sho as we ain't offen
+had, including, above all things that nobody coudn't have emagined,
+nothink less than a reel copy of the grand New Tower Bridge, and if
+that won't be a site for the estonished Multitood praps somebody will
+kindly tell me what woud be.
+
+There was a tork of asking all the Roossian Sailors, who has been a
+having sitch a jolly time of it in France, to run over and jine the
+Sho first and the Bankwet arterwards, but it was werry doutful whether
+ewen all the Haldermen, much less all the Common Counselmen, coud
+have chatted away with them in their own native tung, so the idear was
+given up in favour of Fire engines and Fire men.
+
+I've seen a goodish many Lord Mare's Shos in my time, and hopes to see
+a few more, in spite of the gellous growls of another body of gents
+as shall be nameless, but it woud suttenly be a grand joke to see the
+gellous body elluded to coming out in a London County show of their
+own, amid the skoffs and jiers and larfter of the emused Metrolopus!
+
+  ROBERT.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+THE "OBERLAND" ROUTE.
+
+    ["A scheme for making a waterway between Switerland and the
+    Adriatic is to be submitted to the Federal Government at no
+    very distant date."--_Westminster Gazette._]
+
+
+_British Minister, Bern, to Lord Rosebery, London._--A MR. JONES, who
+says he's a British subject, went up Pilatus to get view. Didn't
+get it. Also complains of overcharge for candles at his hotel. Have
+demanded immediate satisfaction from Swiss Government. Please send
+Mediterranean Squadron to Locarno.
+
+_Lord Rosebery, London, to British Minister, Bern._--Can't spare
+the Squadron. Won't a gunboat do? You may speak strongly to Swiss
+Government. Tell them insult to JONES is insult to England. Meanwhile,
+wire best route for fleet to get up to Bern, if necessary. Don't see
+it on map.
+
+_Brit. Min., B., to Lord R._--Owing to Mediterranean Squadron
+not having appeared at Locarno, Swiss Government very aggressive.
+Passenger steamers on Lakes of Geneva, Thun, and Lucerne being
+converted into a fleet. Special new _corps d'armée_ formed from
+Chamounix guides and patriotic hotel waiters. Man (whose name was
+ROBINSON) mistaken for JONES, and mobbed in streets last night. Some
+kind of Naval Demonstration absolutely necessary. Put ships on rail at
+Locarno, send 'em through Gothard Tunnel, and there you are!
+
+_Lord R. to Brit. Min., B._--British Government recognises gravity of
+the JONES incident. What do you advise? Aren't the Alps in the way?
+
+_Brit. Min., B., to Lord R._--Didn't like to suggest details. Send
+ironclads. Ram something. Why not bombard Alps. Gunboat moored at
+Devil's Bridge might shell Andermatt. Leave it to you.
+
+_Lord R. to Brit. Min., B._--Sorry to say, European complications have
+now arisen from JONES incident. Swiss Government has offered its fleet
+to Russia and France. Triple Alliance tottering. Can't you get Swiss
+Government to apologise to JONES, and end business?
+
+_Brit. Min. to Lord R._--Business _is_ ended. JONES not a British
+subject after all, but a Swede, who's travelled in America! Recall
+gunboat.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration: THE SPREAD OF CULTURE DOWNWARDS.
+
+"ULLO, MARY, WHAT'S THIS? NAME OF THE 'OUSE?" "NO, MR. IGNORANCE; IT'S
+A LATIN WORD, AND MEANS 'PLEASE TO WIPE YOUR FEET!'"]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"RESH'PROSH'TY."
+
+    ["What struck the TZAR ... in the recent festivities, was
+    the feeling of fraternity which seemed to pervade the
+    multitude.... The feeling of concord and fraternity appears
+    to survive the last echoes of the festivities.... The word
+    now most frequently heard is 'Amnesty.' This, indeed, is the
+    fittest coping-stone to prolonged festivities characterised by
+    universal concord."--_Times' Paris Correspondent._]
+
+  _President._ "Prolonged feshtivitish!" Thash good, that ish!
+          _Very_ prolonged, ole f'ler, an' _awf'ly_ feshtive!
+  _Tzar._ Yeah, tha' what shtruck _me!_ (_Aside._) But I really wish
+          He wouldn't gush. ROMANOFF pride turns reshtive!
+  _President._ _Sho_ glad it shtruck you sho! An' nurrer thing
+          You _mush_ ha' notish'd. Feeling of fraternity
+        All over shop! I shay, may friendship's wing
+          Ne'er moult a feather, not to all eternity.
+  _Tzar._ I echosh tha' fine Shwiveller shentiment
+          Entirely! (_Aside._) I must not appear too sober.
+  _President._ Now Fransh ish shatishfied--an' world content!
+          Republic won't forget thish last October!
+        Feelingsh of concord, cetra, _will_ survive
+          Last echosh of feshtivitish--for ever!
+  _Tzar._ Oh, coursh! Asshure you I am quite alive
+          To reshiproshity--shan't forget it--never!
+  _President._ Thash ri' ole f'ler! _Our_ resh--hic!--proshity--
+          Not like the comic Yankee's, all one shide?
+  _Tzar._ Certainly not! Shorry to say good-bye!
+          But though our bodiesh part, our soulsh are tied.
+  _President._ Precishly! We're _both_ tight--mean tied--in knotsh.
+          The champagne, an' the speeches, an' the kisshes
+        Have bound our bosomsh, and combined our lotsh!
+  _Tzar._ Quite sho! (_Aside._) I'll watch a chance to hint my wishes.
+  _President._ We've had a jolly time, and now, ole f'ler,
+          Ash "coping-shtone" to all this talk and toddy,
+        As shequel to thish patr'otic stir,
+          I'm going to amneshty--yesh, _everybody!_
+        Wha' shay, dear ROMANOFF, will you do same?
+          Jush show, y' know, that thersh no animoshity!
+  _Tzar_ (_aside_). Oh, _that_ is the Republic's little game?
+          Russia can't stand _that_ form of reciprocity!
+        (_Aloud._) All ri', ole f'ler, you jush leave that to _Me!_
+          Mosh noble notion, that shame "coping-shtone!"
+        By way, ole f'ler, talking of amneshty--
+          _Could you just 'blige me with a trifling Loan?_
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+THE PROFESSION OF--JOURNALISM.
+
+(_An Entirely Imaginary Letter._)
+
+Dear MR. B-CH-N-N,--Our famous Third Page rather dull lately. Couldn't
+you enliven it up by one of your characteristic letters--say on "The
+Profession of Literature"? Say all the old things about its degrading
+effect on those who follow it, including yourself--the public loves
+to see a vivisection in public--and be sure to spice it well
+with distinguished names, such as SW-NB-RN-, R-SS-TT-, etc. Any
+depreciatory anecdotes would be very telling, and serve to evoke
+indignant _free_ replies from those who wouldn't guess they were
+jumping to a prepared bait. I shall count on you for a column.
+
+  Yours faithfully,
+
+  THE EDITOR OF THE ----.
+
+P.S.--Of course you will be insulted at the usual rate.--ED.
+
+    [_Result--the usual one on the famous Third Page._
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Mot by a Member.
+
+(_During the Debate on the Second Reading of the Parish Councils
+Bill._)
+
+  FOWLER was longish, LONG was even longer,
+  MORE was much less so, STANHOPE little stronger;
+  But HENEAGE even when brief's sublime
+  He's not for Hene-age, but for all (our) time!
+  What a relief after such thrice-skimmed milk
+  To get truth's cream from ROLLIT and from DILKE!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+THE LATEST "GLASS OF FASHION."--The dress fashioned of spun-glass, as
+a royal robe for the Princess EULALIA of Spain, and exhibited at the
+Chicago World's Fair.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration: "RESH'PROSH'TY."
+
+M. CARNOT. "WELL, OLE F'LER, WE'VE ALL HAD JOLLY GOOD TIME--AN' I'M
+GOING T' AMNESTY EV'RYB'Y!! YOU--DO--SAME!!"
+
+TZAR. "LEAVE THAT T' ME. BY TH' WAY--COULD YOU 'BLIGE ME--TRIFLIN'
+LOAN?"]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"BUT THAT'S ANOTHER STORY."
+
+(_Rudyard Kipling passim._)
+
+  TOM'S uncle by his will
+    Left TOM in greatest glory.
+  There _was_ a codicil--
+    "But that's another story."
+
+  PHIL wooed a fair one, KATE;
+    She met him _con amore_.
+  The damages were great--
+    "But that's another story."
+
+  HUGH'S rent (for an address!)
+    Was far and wide _in ore_.
+  His suite now costs him less--
+    "But that's another _story_."
+
+  Of readers not a few
+    Deem RIDER HAGGARD gory.
+  We have MACBETH, it's true--
+    "But that's another story."
+
+  One JOSEPH was enrolled--
+    Though now a sort of Tory--
+  A Williamite of old--
+    "But that's another story."
+
+  Some maids would make it known
+    They'll wait till locks are hoary,
+  But wed for love alone--
+    "B u t  t h a t 's another 'story.'"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+IN BLACK AND WHITE.
+
+(_A Modern Glove Romance._)
+
+  THAT pair of gloves you wore when first we met
+      Were what you called, I think, a "pair of loves."
+  You won them from your cousin on a bet--
+        That pair of gloves.
+
+  Now as to colour, this or that shade proves
+      A shade expensive, runs you into debt.
+  Tan's universal, while a tint of dove's
+      Particularly nice for evening. Yet
+  Black with white stitching most my fancy moves,
+      And such were yours. I never can forget
+        That pair of gloves.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration: TOO COSTLY.
+
+_The Vicar._ "DEAR, DEAR, MRS. PRICKLES, I REGRET TO HEAR THAT MRS.
+BROWN HAS TREATED YOU SO SHAMEFULLY. I SHOULD COUNSEL YOU TO HEAP
+COALS OF FIRE ON HER HEAD----"
+
+_Mrs. P._ "AH, SIR--THAT'S WOT I _WOULD_ DO, AS SOON AS LOOK AT 'ER:
+BUT I CAN'T AFFORD IT AT ONE-AN'-NINEPENCE A 'UNDERDWEIGHT!"]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+RHODES TO ----?
+
+  SIR HENRY LOCH may hold the key
+  In Africa, but all must see
+  That RHODES the handle hath fast grip on,
+  Shouts "Let her rip!"--despite Lord RIPON.
+  Cut is poor LOBENGULA'S comb,
+  'Tis said that all roads lead to Rome.
+  The new Ring that old saw explodes;
+  Where'er we roam we're led to--RHODES.
+  Whether or no this Great Panjandrum
+  (Who handles well the pen, sword, _and_ drum)
+  Is the true friend of Civilisation,
+  And puts her laws in operation;
+  At least he can maintain with pride,
+  He has her Maxims on his side.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+FABIUS FIN-DE-SIÈCLE.
+
+    [The Fabian Society, in the _Fortnightly Review_, has
+    "launched a manifesto, which proposes that the Government
+    shall be attacked by extreme Radicals because it has only met
+    them half way."]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+  STRANGE that a "Fabian policy," up-to-date,
+  Should be so obviously _not_ to wait!
+  Sure the Society's name is chosen ill!
+  RUPERT the title-rôle might fitlier fill.
+  The Fabian Manifesto frightens no man;
+  But just conceive the great, but cautious, Roman
+  Heading a restive, Radical "Ugly Rush"!
+  Though Patience suffers in the Modern Crush,
+  Perchance the Socialistic perorator
+  Might learn a lesson from the great Cunctator!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+THE CABMAN'S GUIDE TO POLITENESS.--No. II.
+
+_Question._ I think when you are out of temper, and have been asked
+by a Fare, who appears to know more (or less) about distances than you
+do, to stop, you pretend not to hear him?
+
+_Answer._ Yes; and I continue not to hear him until a policeman pulls
+me up.
+
+_Q._ Quite so; and then you have a way of giving a jerk while your
+Fare is getting in which either covers a lady's dress with mud, or all
+but breaks the leg of a gentleman?
+
+_A._ Well, I have known such things to happen.
+
+_Q._ And when you reach your destination, you carefully forget the
+number of the street or square, and are equally hard of hearing if
+your Fare attempts to direct you?
+
+_A._ You have hit it, especially if it's raining.
+
+_Q._ Of course. And when you get your money, you sneer and drive away,
+as if you were disgusted?
+
+_A._ Yes. And as I go off I make as much splash as I can, in the hope
+of my late fare getting a dose of the mud.
+
+_Q._ Exactly. Now, don't you think it would be better to come up
+cheerfully, drive carefully, and when you receive your money, observe,
+"Well, Sir (or Madam), I know I have no right to more, but times are
+hard, and if you would spare an extra sixpence, I should consider it a
+real kindness?" Would not that mode be better than the other? Would it
+not be more profitable?
+
+_A._ It might, but I can't say, as I have never tried it.
+
+_Q._ Again, what is your method of obtaining what you consider to be
+your rights from a mother with two boxes and four small children?
+
+_A._ Why I generally swear at the kids and sit on the boxes until I am
+paid what I ask, or get sent to the right-abouts by a policeman.
+
+_Q._ No doubt; yet such a course seems both barbarous and
+inconvenient. Could you not improve upon it?
+
+_A._ Not I. It is the right thing to do, and that is why I do it.
+
+_Q._ And yet would it not be as easy for you to help the boxes
+down yourself, and then to make friends with the mother through her
+children? Could you not observe, "Bless their hearts, they are fine
+lads, or young ladies (as the case might be), and you should be proud
+of them, mum?"
+
+_A._ Yes, I might say that, but I don't think the mother would come
+down with the cash any quicker on account of it.
+
+_Q._ But supposing, when you were offered less than you thought due
+to you, could you not observe, "I have children of my own, mum, and
+if you could spare a couple of shillings (or half-a-crown, or what you
+thought right) more, it would be a real kindness, and give my children
+something more than bread and water for dinner?" Could you not say
+that?
+
+_A._ I might, but I won't.
+
+_Q._ But surely it would be pleasanter for you to be amiable and
+courteous instead of a bully and a brute? And would it not be easier,
+too?
+
+_A._ Try for yourself. Just you drive a cab for a dozen hours in all
+weathers, and then you will learn what chances you have of feeling
+light-hearted and polite!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+PREPARING FOR CHRISTMAS.
+
+(_A Yule-tide Story told in Advance._)
+
+Yes, SCROOGE was an altered man! He was genial and amiable, and
+altogether an estimable being. SCROOGE'S nephew was delighted with the
+change. He could scarcely believe his ears and eyes.
+
+"And don't you really interfere with the theatres, Sir?" asked
+SCROOGE'S nephew. "At one time you were always telling them to take
+down this, and put up that, and making the lives of the managers
+burdens to them. Don't you interfere any longer?"
+
+"Of course not, my lad," replied SCROOGE, heartily. "Why should
+I? This is the pleasantest world imaginable, and it would be less
+charming without its playhouses."
+
+"Right you are, Sir," returned SCROOGE'S nephew; "but I suppose you
+look in occasionally at the halls to supervise the entertainments?"
+
+"I look in to enjoy them, my boy!" cried SCROOGE, with a ringing
+laugh, that could be heard for furlongs. "What do they want with _my_
+supervision?"
+
+"I am sure I don't know, uncle; but I thought it was a way you had.
+And then you are going to strip the hoardings of the posters, aren't
+you?"
+
+"I strip the hoardings of the posters! Why should I? The hoardings
+look a precious sight better covered with pictures than left to dirt
+and decay. I interfere with the hoardings! I never heard of such a
+thing! What put _that_ into your head?"
+
+"Well, it used to be an old way of yours," returned SCROOGE'S nephew.
+"Why, uncle, don't you remember? You used to be interfering with
+and ordering about everything. Taking up the road and closing the
+thoroughfare. Bothering the costermongers and the retail shopkeepers
+and the small householders. In fact, making yourself a general
+nuisance in all directions. Why, uncle, you have entirely changed your
+nature!"
+
+"Not at all," said SCROOGE. "I am not changed, but my office is. Do
+you not know that I have ceased to be a member of the London County
+Council?"
+
+"No, this is the first time I have heard of it! Why, that accounts
+for everything! It explains why you are a pleasant, good-natured
+old gentleman in lieu of a curmudgeon and a brute. It explains
+everything."
+
+And it did!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration: MISUNDERSTOOD.
+
+_Noble Philanthropist._ "THAT PARCEL SEEMS RATHER HEAVY FOR YOU, MY
+LITTLE MAN! LET ME TAKE IT!"
+
+_Small boy._ "LET YER TYKE MY PARCEL! GARN WITH YER. I'LL CALL THE
+PERLICE!"]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+NAME! NAME!--No name has been announced for the new daily paper
+projected by Mr. STEAD. In view of the plan frankly set forth in the
+prospectus, whereby one hundred thousand persons are to subscribe the
+capital, and if the venture proves a success the enterprising editor
+is to have the option of acquiring the property, a suitable title
+would be, _Heads-I-Win-Tails-You-Lose_. It is a little long, perhaps;
+but it precisely describes the relative positions, and you can't--at
+least some people can't--have everything.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+DRAMATIC RECIPE (FROM THE QUEEN'S COOKERY BOOK).--First catch your
+HARE.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+THE DARK CONTINENT IN TWO LIGHTS.
+
+    SCENE--_A conquered country._ TIME--_The Past. Conquerors
+    (colonists) panting after their hard work in defeating the
+    natives. Enter an_ Official. _The remaining members of the
+    Colonial Band sing the National Anthem._
+
+_Official._ I congratulate you upon your success. The more especially
+as you have gained it without the assistance of the Imperial power.
+(_The Colonists indulge in feeble cheers._) But now my turn has
+arrived. In the name of the SOVEREIGN I claim this land for England!
+
+    [_Plants the British Flag. Curtain._
+
+    SCENE--_As before._ TIME--_The Present. Conquerors (colonists)
+    smoking after the pleasant toil of mowing down the natives.
+    Enter an_ Official. _The Colonial Band (in its entirety) takes
+    no notice_.
+
+_Official._ I congratulate you upon your success. The more especially
+as you have gained it without the assistance of the Imperial power.
+(_The Colonists indulge in roars of laughter._) But now my turn has
+arrived. In the name of the SOVEREIGN I claim this land for England!
+
+_Colonists._ No you don't! Be off! We can get on without you!
+
+    [_Turns Official and his Flag out of the Country. Curtain._
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+ARGENTINA.
+
+    [It is stated that JABEZ S. BALFOUR is living "in a perfect
+    fairy-land."]
+
+  I Dreamt that I dwelt in marble halls,
+    With orchids on every side,
+  A very long way from Old Bailey's walls,
+    Where NEWTON and HOBBS were tried.
+  I had riches too great to count; could boast
+    Of JABEZ, an elegant name;
+  And I also dreamt, which charmed me most,
+    Argentina loved me the same.
+
+  I dreamt that my country let me go,
+    In an indolent sort of way,
+  For Scotland Yard did not seem to know
+    It would "want" me another day.
+  So they carefully closed the stable-door,
+    When I'd fled beyond reach of blame;
+  And I also dreamt, which charmed me more,
+    Argentina loved me the same.
+
+  I dreamt that detectives sought my hand,
+    But their warrants I could not see.
+  So their vows my swindler's heart could withstand,
+    Though they pledged their faith to me.
+  Buenos Ayres' bold, brazen face,
+    Never glows with the blush of shame;
+  Though I should be lynched in a decent place,
+    Argentina loves me the same.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+A GREAT FIELD FOR HUMORISTS ANNUALLY.--"_Wit acres'_ Almanack."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+ESSENCE OF PARLIAMENT.
+
+EXTRACTED FROM THE DIARY OF TOBY, M. P.
+
+_House of Commons, Thursday, November_ 2.--Began work again to-day as
+if nothing had happened from February to September. Understood to
+have had a recess; so short hardly worth mentioning. Considering all
+circumstances, attendance marvellously large. MARJORIBANKS got his men
+together as usual, crowding benches on Ministerial side. Opposition
+not in quite such a hurry to wash their spears; but muster creditable.
+Irish camp deserted. "You see," said JUSTIN MCCARTHY, "it isn't our
+funeral. But the bhoys are hanging round and will turn up if wanted."
+
+HENRY FOWLER moved Second Reading Parish Councils Bill. Adroit and
+able speech; rather hard on WALTER LONG; to him deputed position of
+spokesman on Front Opposition bench. Brought down notes of convincing
+speech. FOWLER getting in first anticipated all his objections;
+met them with benevolent alacrity that disarmed hostility. What did
+statesmen opposite want? Anything in reason should be conceded. "Give
+your orders, gents, whilst the waiter's in the room."
+
+[Illustration: PARLIAMENT BY
+PROXY.]
+
+This an admirable stroke of business, but a little depressing from
+spectacular point of view. No more pyrotechnics; no further meetings
+on the floor; no more grips at close quarters. HAYES FISHER looked on
+moodily; LOGAN passed Front Opposition bench without once so much as
+looking at place where CARSON is accustomed meekly to repose.
+Respectable elderly gentlemen like FRANCIS POWELL and JEFFREYS took
+the floor. Even contumacious COBB admitted soothing influence of the
+hour. Didn't want anything more than that Parish Councils should have
+power to take land wherever they found it, and divide it amongst the
+poor. As everybody agreed Bill in the main desirable, and since FOWLER
+had promised fullest consideration of amendments in Committee, seemed
+natural thing to do was forthwith to read Bill second time, and fix
+date of Committee.
+
+[Illustration: Parish Councils.]
+
+"No, Sir," said STANLEY LEIGHTON, "I trust the House of Commons is
+not yet sunk so low as that. Confess I myself feel depressed. Couldn't
+to-night adequately fill my favourite and popular part of The Man
+from Shropshire. At least I'll deliver House from disgrace of bringing
+debate to a close for the puerile reason that we're all agreed Second
+Reading shall be taken."
+
+So he wandered on; was just warming into Man-from-Shropshire manner,
+when midnight sounded and Debate stood adjourned.
+
+_Business done._--Second Reading Parish Councils Bill moved.
+
+_Friday._--For middle-aged gentleman of long experience never saw man
+so discomposed as JESSE COLLINGS was just now, when he let cat out of
+bag about future arrangements of the Unionists personal to himself.
+What is to be done with the Faithful One when JOSEPH comes into his
+own is favourite speculation in smoke-room. SAGE OF QUEEN ANNE'S GATE
+takes special interest in matter. Most men think JESSE should have
+Cabinet rank in Coalition Ministry.
+
+"No," says the SAGE, "he should be a Viceroy, either of India or
+Canada. Cut out for the place; and there would be no question of
+salary, such as, seven years ago, embittered his relations with Mr.
+G."
+
+All these conjectures beside the point. Matter has, apparently, been
+settled in inner councils of party, and to-night JESSE accidentally,
+inadvertently, lifted the veil. "I have," he said, in course of
+luminous speech prefaced by addressing the SPEAKER as "Mr. Mayor,"
+"something to say on that subject, but I will reserve my remarks for
+another place." House not very full at moment. But everyone knows
+meaning of House of Commons phrase "another place." Sensation
+profound. Bordesley soon to be bereft, for JESSE COLLINGS is going to
+the Lords! HENRY MATTHEWS, a local authority on the subject, says even
+title been fixed upon. Nothing less than territorial style will do
+for the ex-Mayor and Radical Alderman. Soon the Upper House will greet
+Lord BORDESLEY of Birmingham.
+
+Quiet night, with further talk round Parish Councils Bill. Mr. G.
+present, seated between SQUIRE OF MALWOOD and JOHN MORLEY. Singularly
+subdued in manner; takes no part in discussion; goes off to dinner in
+good time, and House sees him no more.
+
+"And to think," said the SQUIRE, glancing sideways at the placid
+figure beside him, "that this is the man painted in red and blue by
+Unionist pavement-artists. Their stories of Mr. G. always remind me
+of a passage in a theme produced by a young gentleman invited to state
+what he knew of Cardinal WOLSEY.
+
+    "'In the siege of Quebec,' he wrote, 'he ascended the
+    mountains at dead of night, when his enemies were at rest, and
+    took the town at daybreak. His home policy was conducted in a
+    similar manner.'
+
+"There is about that a picturesque air of circumstantiality, combined
+with a fanciful inaccuracy, equalled only by things one reads or hears
+with reference to my right hon. friend, and revered leader."
+
+[Illustration: Ireland takes a back seat. Sir William on the Premier's
+right again.]
+
+_Business done._--Some papers on Parish Councils read.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Double Entente.
+
+  The TZAR, on peace and friendship all intent,
+  To France his Admiral AVELLAN has sent.
+  'Twere pity if this Russian olive-branch
+  Portended merely General AVALANCHE.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Mrs. R. is astonished to hear that "Count TAAFFE, the Austrian
+Premier, is an Irishman and a Member of the British House of Lords."
+She says she is sure she has heard that "TAAFFE was a Welshman, TAAFFE
+was a ----," but she must have been misinformed!!!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+A STRIKE-ING SUGGESTION.--The PITT-coalition was a brilliant idea in
+its day. A coalition between masters and miners--a Pit-coal-ition, in
+fact--would solve the strike difficulty.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+THE FRENCH FLAG.
+
+AN AMICABLE APPEAL.
+
+  The Arab dhow to the chase is gone,
+    Chock-full of slaves you'll discover it;
+  And the British cruiser is artfully done
+    By the French Flag flying over it!
+  "Flag of France!" cries the British Tar,
+    "The Arab hound betrays thee.
+  Give him his due, at Zanzibar,
+    And all the world shall praise thee!"
+
+  The captain and crew by the Franks were tried,
+    And _escaped_--to the wide world's wonder!
+  Oh glorious Flag! Is it then its pride
+    That the slavers hide thereunder?
+  Let France disdain to sully thee,
+    With the curst kidnapper's knavery!
+  Thy folds should float o'er the brave and free,
+    And _never_ protect foul Slavery!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Misnomer.
+
+  "FEDERATION" seems aggravation,
+    Conciliation's dead!
+  While fights the "Miners' Federation,"
+    The Miners are _un_fed!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+THE LATEST AUTUMN FASHIONS.--Parliamentary Sessions and Feather
+Trimmings. Both involving cruelty to bipeds "on the wing," and each
+"more honoured in the breach than the observance."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+An Ulsterical Impromptu.
+
+(_By an Orange-hating Nationalist._)
+
+  In Parliament assembled see them move
+    Their resolutions lacking rhyme and reason,
+  Determined all at any cost to prove
+    The Ulster Parliament's a Cloak to Treason!
+
+
+
+***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI, VOL.
+105, NOVEMBER 11, 1893***
+
+
+******* This file should be named 39420-8.txt or 39420-8.zip *******
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+<h1>The Project Gutenberg eBook, Punch, or the London Charivari, Vol. 105,
+November 11, 1893, by Various, Edited by Sir F. C. Burnand</h1>
+<pre>
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at <a href = "http://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a></pre>
+<p>Title: Punch, or the London Charivari, Vol. 105, November 11, 1893</p>
+<p>Author: Various</p>
+<p>Editor: Sir F. C. Burnand</p>
+<p>Release Date: April 10, 2012  [eBook #39420]</p>
+<p>Language: English</p>
+<p>Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1</p>
+<p>***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI, VOL. 105, NOVEMBER 11, 1893***</p>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<h3>E-text prepared by Malcolm Farmer, Lesley Halamek,<br />
+    and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team<br />
+    (http://www.pgdp.net)</h3>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<hr class="pg" />
+
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="page217" id="page217"></a>[pg 217]</span>
+
+<h1>Punch, or the London Charivari</h1>
+
+<h2>Volume 105, November 11th 1893</h2>
+
+<h4><i>edited by Sir Francis Burnand</i></h4>
+
+<hr class="full" />
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;"><a href="images/217-1200.png"><img src="images/217-600.png" width="600" height="402" alt="POLICE PROTECTION FOR PIANISTS!!" /></a>
+<h2 class="sans">POLICE PROTECTION FOR PIANISTS!!</h2>
+
+<p><span class="sc">Made necessary by the antics of the Padded-roomski Devotees at St. James's hall, who
+rush at, try to embrace, and deck with Roses, a certain Master whenever he appears.</span></p></div>
+
+<hr class="medium" />
+
+<h3>A QUESTION OF TINT.</h3>
+
+<h4>["Who will paint London?"&mdash;<i>Daily News</i>.]</h4>
+
+<div class="poem">  <div class="stanza">
+<p>What a question to ask! If the colour be blue,</p>
+<p>A batch of our London Minervas will do:</p>
+<p>For each one will dye&mdash;the allusion is shocking&mdash;</p>
+<p>Our town and its streets with the tint of her stocking.</p>
+<p>Our pessimist frauds and the Ibsensite pack</p>
+<p>Will groan as they thickly bedaub it in black.</p>
+<p>Asiatic Sir <span class="sc">Edwin</span>, the Poet of Light,</p>
+<p>He will wipe out their work, and arrange it in white.</p>
+<p>Then the Company-gulls will arrive on the scene,</p>
+<p>And, <i>presto</i>, the colour of London is green.</p>
+<p>And a rare crew of "Johnnies" will stay out of bed</p>
+<p>Till the daylight appears, while they paint the town red.</p>
+<p>In fact&mdash;and you'll thank me for giving the hint&mdash;</p>
+<p>Painting London is merely a question of tint.</p>
+  </div>  </div>
+
+<hr class="medium" />
+
+<p class="center"><span class="sc">Mrs. R.</span> cannot call to mind
+where the original picture of
+"<i>The Waterloo Blanket</i>" is
+to be seen.</p>
+
+<hr class="medium" />
+
+<h2>THE NOBLE ORGAN-GRINDER.</h2>
+
+<p class="ind1">["Lord <span class="sc">Brassey</span> never goes on a cruise, however
+short, without taking with him a very costly
+barrel-organ. He plays on it regularly for some
+time every evening, as he finds it a congenial form
+of exercise and amusement."&mdash;<i>The World.</i>]</p>
+
+<div class="poem">  <div class="stanza">
+<p>Grinder, when serenely grinding</p>
+<p class="i2">On your yacht the Hundredth Psalm,</p>
+<p>Tell me, are you truly finding</p>
+<p class="i2">In this work congenial charm?</p>
+  </div><div class="stanza">
+<p>"Music hath" (an old quotation)</p>
+<p class="i2">"Charms to soothe the savage breast,"</p>
+<p>Think how you might lull some nation</p>
+<p class="i2">Into dilettante rest.</p>
+  </div><div class="stanza">
+<p><span class="sc">Grinder</span>, gentle-hearted Grinder,</p>
+<p class="i2">Try the savage who has spurned</p>
+<p>Culture, for he might grow kinder,</p>
+<p class="i2">Soothed by barrel deftly turned.</p>
+  </div><div class="stanza">
+<p>Matabele <span class="sc">Lobengula</span></p>
+<p class="i2">(Accent on penultimate)</p>
+<p>Might be made by music, you'll a-</p>
+<p class="i2">gree, a model potentate.</p>
+  </div><div class="stanza">
+<p><span class="sc">Orpheus</span> like, you might so charm him</p>
+<p class="i2">That a mere Mashona child's</p>
+<p>Hand could easily disarm him</p>
+<p class="i2">In those equatorial wilds.</p>
+  </div><div class="stanza">
+<p>He would cease to wear his skimpy</p>
+<p class="i2">Kilts that leave his legs half bare,</p>
+<p>He would soon disband his <i>impi</i>;</p>
+<p class="i2">Culture then would be his care.</p>
+  </div><div class="stanza">
+<p>Suits of dittos clothe this whopper;</p>
+<p class="i2">Patent leather boots be got;</p>
+<p>You might lead him&mdash;"smash, my topper!"&mdash;</p>
+<p class="i2">Even to a chimney-pot.</p>
+  </div><div class="stanza">
+<p>He would have a daily paper,</p>
+<p class="i2">Standard authors sold in parts,</p>
+<p>Shops of tailor, hatter, draper,</p>
+<p class="i2">An Academy of Arts.</p>
+  </div><div class="stanza">
+<p>He would teach, by plays, the loyal</p>
+<p class="i2">Folk on marsh or fertile plain,</p>
+<p>Opening a Theatre Royal,</p>
+<p class="i2">Where they've only Reeds and Grain.</p>
+  </div><div class="stanza">
+<p>And, till death made him a <i>Morgue</i> 'un,</p>
+<p class="i2"><span class="sc">Wagner, Brahms</span> and <span class="sc">Greig</span> no doubt</p>
+<p>He would doat on&mdash;then your organ</p>
+<p class="i2">Might be ruthlessly chucked out.</p>
+  </div>  </div>
+
+<hr class="medium" />
+
+<h2 class="sans">THE CENTRAL HALL OF THE LAW COURTS.</h2>
+
+<div class="poem">  <div class="stanza">
+<p>O barristers' wigs from far and wide</p>
+<p class="i10">&nbsp;&nbsp;You gather anew!</p>
+<p>The Strand, like meadow with daisies pied,</p>
+<p class="i10">&nbsp;&nbsp;Is dotted with you.</p>
+  </div><div class="stanza">
+<p>You crowd the courts, so stuffy, so small,</p>
+<p class="i10">&nbsp;&nbsp;So awkwardly placed;</p>
+<p>You don't go into the Central Hall&mdash;</p>
+<p class="i10">&nbsp;&nbsp; Magnificent waste!</p>
+  </div><div class="stanza">
+<p>That thing of beauty was meant to be</p>
+<p class="i10">&nbsp;&nbsp;For ever a joy,</p>
+<p>Just built to accommodate, as we see,</p>
+<p class="i10">&nbsp;&nbsp;One messenger boy.</p>
+  </div><div class="stanza">
+<p>Proud emblem he of the empire's might,</p>
+<p class="i10">&nbsp;&nbsp;That thus, for a whim,</p>
+<p>Spent pounds in thousands with such delight</p>
+<p class="i10">&nbsp;&nbsp; Just to shelter him.</p>
+  </div><div class="stanza">
+<p>The courts are draughty, the courts are dark,</p>
+<p class="i10">&nbsp;&nbsp;The passages small,</p>
+<p>And witness, client, solicitor, clerk,</p>
+<p class="i10">&nbsp;&nbsp;Are squeezed in them all.</p>
+  </div><div class="stanza">
+<p>Those lancet windows on winding stairs</p>
+<p class="i10">&nbsp;&nbsp;Don't help one to see;</p>
+<p>A falling Commissioner even swears</p>
+<p class="i10">&nbsp;&nbsp;Without any fee.</p>
+  </div><div class="stanza">
+<p>Still though we stumble and though we're squeezed,</p>
+<p class="i10">&nbsp;&nbsp;We all recollect</p>
+<p>That deserted Hall, and we're truly pleased</p>
+<p class="i10">&nbsp;&nbsp;With it's fine effect.</p>
+  </div><div class="stanza">
+<p>The vacant acre of paving there</p>
+<p class="i10">&nbsp;&nbsp;Should never annoy,</p>
+<p>It has one occupant, we 're aware&mdash;</p>
+<p class="i10">&nbsp;&nbsp;That messenger boy.</p>
+  </div>  </div>
+
+<hr class="medium" />
+
+<h2>SONG OF THE AUTUMN SESSION.</h2>
+
+<h4>(<span class="sc">By a Reluctantly Returned M.P.</span>)</h4>
+
+<h4><span class="sc">Air</span>&mdash;"<i>O! that will be joyful!</i>"</h4>
+
+<div class="poem">  <div class="stanza">
+<p><span class="sc">Here</span> we suffer grief and pain,</p>
+<p>Here we part to meet again:</p>
+<p class="i4">No field, no copse, no moor!</p>
+<p class="i8">O! it will be jawful,</p>
+<p class="i8">Jawful, jawful, jawful!</p>
+<p class="i8">O! isn't it awful?</p>
+<p class="i4">Autumn Meet's an awful bore!</p>
+  </div><div class="stanza">
+<p>All who hate the "Lords," you know,</p>
+<p>Swear this misery below,</p>
+<p class="i4">We owe to peers above!</p>
+<p class="i8">O! that, &amp;c.</p>
+  </div><div class="stanza">
+<p>We'll be lammed by <span class="sc">Labouchere</span>,</p>
+<p>Who the Afric strife will swear</p>
+<p class="i4">Is due to <span class="sc">Rhodes's</span> rule.</p>
+<p class="i8">O! won't <i>he</i> be jawful, &amp;c.</p>
+  </div><div class="stanza">
+<p><span class="sc">Ashmead</span>, too, will strive to prove</p>
+<p>Freedom, prestige, all we love</p>
+<p class="i4">We'll lose to gain no more,</p>
+<p class="i8">Through <span class="sc">Gladstone</span> the jawful, &amp;c.</p>
+  </div><div class="stanza">
+<p>O! how weary we shall be,</p>
+<p>Ere the two Big Bills, or three,</p>
+<p class="i4">Are passed and Peer-wards gone!</p>
+<p class="i8">O! <span class="sc">Weg</span> will be jawful, &amp;c.</p>
+  </div><div class="stanza">
+<p>Then the Rads will shout with joy,</p>
+<p>And the short Recess employ,</p>
+<p class="i4">In larrupping the Lords!</p>
+<p class="i8">O! won't <i>they</i> be jawful?&mdash;</p>
+<p class="i8">Awful, awful, awful!</p>
+<p class="i8">It shouldn't be lawful</p>
+<p class="i4">Autumn Meets to summon more!</p>
+  </div>  </div>
+
+<hr class="medium" />
+
+<p class="ind"><span class="sc">The Whirligig of Time.</span>&mdash;<span class="sc">Wat Tyler</span> is
+avenged&mdash;upon wicked <span class="sc">Walworth</span>, and unfair
+history. A namesake of his is to be Lord
+Mayor of London! All we want now is, that
+the Right Hon. Mr. <span class="sc">John Cade</span> (of Birmingham?)
+should be made Prime Minister.</p>
+
+<hr class="medium" />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="page218" id="page218"></a>[pg 218]</span>
+
+<h2 class="sans">DR. DULCAMARA UP TO DATE; OR, WANTED A QUACK-QUELCHER.</h2>
+
+<blockquote><p>
+["<i>The jury, in giving their verdict, strongly censured the gross ignorance of the accused,
+and regretted that there was no law to prevent them
+from practising surgery.</i>"]
+</p></blockquote>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 450px;"><a href="images/218-1200.png"><img src="images/218-450.png" width="450" height="535" alt="DR. DULCAMARA UP TO DATE; OR, WANTED A QUACK-QUELCHER." /></a></div>
+
+<p class="center"><i>Mr. Punch sings, sotto voce:</i>&mdash;</p>
+
+<div class="poem">  <div class="stanza">
+<p><i>Begone, Dulcamara</i>,</p>
+<p class="i2"><i>I prythee begone from me!</i></p>
+<p><i>Begone, Dulcamara</i>,</p>
+<p class="i2"><i>Thou and I will never agree!</i></p>
+  </div>  </div>
+
+<div class="poem1">  <div class="stanza">
+<p><span class="sc"><i>Agree?</i></span> By all good powers, no! no more than oil and water!</p>
+<p>For to the conscious humbug honest wrath should give no quarter;</p>
+  </div><div class="stanza">
+<p>And if <i>Punch's</i> ready <i>bâton</i> lays its thwacks on any backs</p>
+<p>With special zest, it is on those of charlatans and quacks.</p>
+  </div><div class="stanza">
+<p>Quack! Quack! Quack! Oh the pestilential pack!</p>
+<p>If there is a loathsome chorus, it is Quack! Quack! Quack!</p>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="page219" id="page219"></a>[pg 219]</span>
+  </div><div class="stanza">
+<p>But the Quacks are having high old times in these peculiar days,</p>
+<p>And gulls mistake their horrid din, 'twould seem, for pleasant lays.</p>
+<p>We are quacked into distraction by unchastened power of Jaw,</p>
+<p>Assisted by Advertisement and unrestrained by Law.</p>
+<p>Dulcamara up to date is no longer poor or petty,</p>
+<p>The pompous, brainless charlatan pictured by <span class="sc">Donizetti</span>,</p>
+<p>He outshines, out-talks, out-thumps, out-cheats, out-swaggers, and out-dresses,</p>
+<p>With his nauseous, noxious nostrums, and his nasty, mucky messes.</p>
+<p>Quack! Quack! Quack! He may quack the donkeys dead,</p>
+<p>Their coin out of their purses and their eyes out of their head,</p>
+<p>Their brains into sheer softening, their bodies to the grave,</p>
+<p>But <i>he</i> flourishes unpunished. Is there <i>nothing</i> then to save</p>
+<p>The noodles from his ignorance and knavery and bounce?</p>
+<p>No law to lay him by the heels, no hangman's whip to trounce,</p>
+<p>No pillory to gibbet the false fortune-piling pack</p>
+<p>Who poison, maim, and madden with their Quack! Quack! Quack?</p>
+  </div><div class="stanza">
+<p>Dulcamara stands defiant, while his drum the live air fills</p>
+<p>With praise of his appliances, his potions, and his pills.</p>
+<p>With sham science for his shield, venal literature and art</p>
+<p>For his touts and advertisers, he can bravely play his part.</p>
+<p>The comic man will clown for him, if adequately paid,</p>
+<p>And the poet and the painter puff his wares and push his trade.</p>
+<p>He's proudly testimonialised; folly or purchased cunning</p>
+<p>Crack up his nastiest nostrums, keep his worst deceptions running.</p>
+<p>He will bleed you and blackmail you, if you're weak as well as wealthy,</p>
+<p>Impoverish <i>and</i> drench you, aye, do aught&mdash;save leave you healthy.</p>
+<p>For 'tis quack, quack, quack! and 'tis drum, drum, drum!</p>
+<p>And Dulcamara&mdash;when not <i>worse</i>&mdash;is safe to prove a hum!</p>
+  </div><div class="stanza">
+<p>Quack! Quack! Quack! It is time that cry to quelch</p>
+<p>By Law&mdash;or else to treat the quacks like sorry rogues who "welsh";</p>
+<p>And if Dulcamara's really safe, until the Law they alter,</p>
+<p>Why honest men must see to it, nor in their purpose falter</p>
+<p>Till rascals of "gross ignorance," in foul gregarious pack,</p>
+<p>Can no longer <i>safely</i> victimise with quack, quack, quack!</p>
+  </div>  </div>
+
+<hr class="medium" />
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;"><a href="images/219-1500.png"><img src="images/219-600.png" width="600" height="389" alt="THE LION AT HOME." /></a>
+<h3 class="sans">THE LION AT HOME.</h3>
+
+<p><i>The Hope and Pride of the Family (just home from the Grand Tour).</i> "<span class="sc">Oh, really, you know, the Men one meets in some of
+those places out West! I said to myself every night, 'Well, thank heaven I haven't Shot anybody!</span>'"</p>
+<p><i>Fond and Nervous Mother.</i> "<span class="sc">You mean, thank Heaven nobody Shot you, don't you, dear?</span>"</p></div>
+
+<hr class="medium" />
+
+<h3>A WORD TO THE WISE WHEELMAN.</h3>
+
+<p class="ind"><span class="sc">The Speaker</span>, at Warwick, said that "the bicyclists of the
+day are debilitating and degenerating the human race by the way
+in which they stoop over their work." The wheelmen would
+probably retort that, like <span class="sc">Goldsmith's</span> sprightly heroine, they
+"stoop to conquer." And we are not yet <i>all</i> wheelmen. Still, the
+<span class="sc">Speaker</span> has hit a blot in the contemporary Cyclomania. Few
+things are more unlovely than the "Bicyclist's Bend." Record-cutting
+would be purchased dearly at the cost of making men look
+like camels; and if success on the cinderpath or the road involved
+giving humanity at large "the hump," one would stigmatise the
+Cycle Race as the <i>In</i>human Race. Let us hope the <span class="sc">Speaker's</span> sharp
+words will make our stooping cyclists "sit up"&mdash;in other than the
+slangy sense of the phrase.</p>
+
+<hr class="medium" />
+
+<h3>Birds of Pray.</h3>
+
+<div class="poem">  <div class="stanza">
+<p>We're told a cormorant sits, and doth not tire,</p>
+<p>For a whole month, perched upon Newark spire!</p>
+<p><span class="sc">Vinny Bourne's</span> jackdaw's beaten, it is clear.</p>
+<p>Yet there <i>are</i> cormorants who, year after year,</p>
+<p>Perch in the Church. But these omnivorous people</p>
+<p>Favour the pulpit mostly, not the steeple.</p>
+<p>Thrivers upon fat livings find, no doubt,</p>
+<p>Cormorant within is cosier than without.</p>
+  </div>  </div>
+
+<hr class="medium" />
+
+<p class="ind1"><span class="sc">Cream of the Cream.</span>&mdash;"London Society proper"&mdash;we are
+informed by Lady <span class="sc">Charles Beresford</span>&mdash;consists of no more than
+thirty or forty families! And how about London Society <i>improper</i>?
+Is <i>that</i> equally sparse and exclusive? And&mdash;terrible thought!&mdash;crucial
+question!&mdash;is it possible that the two orders <i>overlap</i> at all?
+That there are any "noble swells" who belong to both?</p>
+
+<hr class="medium" />
+
+<p class="center"><span class="sc">The Government's Public Policy in South Africa (according
+To Mr. Sydney Buxton).</span>&mdash;<i>Not</i> "<span class="sc">Carrington's</span> Entire"!</p>
+
+<hr class="medium" />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="page220" id="page220"></a>[pg 220]</span>
+
+<h2>UNDER THE ROSE.</h2>
+
+<h4>(<i>A Story in Scenes</i>).</h4>
+
+<p><span class="sc">Scene</span> XIII.&mdash;<i>"Behind" at the Eldorado.</i> <span class="sc">Time</span>&mdash;<i>about</i> 10 <span class="sc">P.M.</span>;
+<i>the Stage at the back of the Scene-cloth is in partial darkness;
+in the centre, a pile of lumber and properties. Bare whitewashed
+brick walls; at one side, two canvas cabins for the
+Lady-Artistes to change their costumes; near them a deal
+table, with a jug and glasses. At one of the wings, behind the
+proscenium, a shelf and small mirror, at which the Comedians
+can arrange their make-up, and a frame, in which a placard,
+with each Artiste's number, is inserted before his or her entrance.
+A "turn" has just been concluded, and the Stage is clear.</i></p>
+
+<p><i>The Stage-Manager</i> (<i>bustling up to</i> Footman, <i>in crimson plush
+breeches</i>). Now then, look alive, there, can't you, they're getting
+impatient in front. Why don't you change the number?</p>
+
+<p><i>Footman</i> (<i>with aggrieved dignity</i>). Because, Sir, Mr. <span class="sc">Alf Redbeak</span>
+ought to come on, by rights, and, not 'aving chosen to appear
+yet, I think you'll see yourself,
+on reflection, as it would
+be totally&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p><i>Stage-M.</i> Well, don't argue
+about it; here's Miss <span class="sc">Lushboy</span>
+ready to go on, put <i>her</i> number
+up!</p>
+
+<p><i>Footm.</i> I always understood
+it was the regulation 'ere that
+no number was to be put up
+until the band-parts were
+passed into the orchestra; which
+Miss <span class="sc">Lushboy's</span> music most
+certainly has not been handed
+in yet, and, that bein' so&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p><i>Stage-M.</i> You can spare a
+good yard off that tongue of
+yours, you can; put Miss
+<span class="sc">Lushboy's</span> number up, and&mdash;&mdash;Ah,
+here comes Mr. <span class="sc">Redbeak</span>;
+never mind.</p>
+
+<p><i>Enter</i> Mr. <span class="sc">Redbeak</span>, <i>breathless</i>.</p>
+
+<p><i>Mr. Redbeak.</i> Phew! I've
+had a job to get 'ere in time, I
+can tell you. (<i>The Orchestra
+strikes up.</i>) 'Ullo, <i>that</i> ain't
+mine. (<i>To</i> Footman.) What
+are you about? Put up my
+number&mdash;sharp, now!</p>
+
+<p><i>Miss Lushboy</i> (<i>to</i> Footman).
+Here, let me go on; I've been
+messing about long enough.
+What are you taking my
+number out for?</p>
+
+<p><i>Footm.</i> Now, look 'ere, Miss,
+I can't please everybody! (<i>Indicating</i>
+Stage-Manager.) You
+are as well aware as what I
+am that it's for <i>him</i> to give the
+word 'ere, not me. I'm on'y
+actin' under what&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p><i>Mr. Redb.</i> It's crule, you
+know, that's what it is&mdash;crule.
+I've got to go right across London
+for my next turn, and&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p><i>The Stage-M.</i> (<i>returning</i>). What the blazes are we waiting for
+<i>now</i>? <span class="sc">Alf</span>, dear boy, you should come up to time. (<i>To</i> Footman.)
+Why don't you do as you're told? You're getting too big for
+your boots, it strikes me! (<i>To</i> Miss <span class="sc">Lushboy</span>.) There, go on, my
+dear, go on.</p>
+
+<p class="ind2">[Miss L. <i>bounds on to the stage, and begins her song</i>.</p>
+
+<p><i>Mr. Redb.</i> (<i>to</i> Footman). I've got a bone to pick with you, old
+feller. Don't you go wool-gatherin' to-night, as you did last.
+I've told you till I'm tired that when you see me chuck this
+property piecrust into the wings you've got to throw down these
+fire-irons&mdash;it's a safe laugh every time it comes off, and you know 'ow
+important it is, and yet you forget it nine times out of ten! What's
+the good of me thinkin' out my business when you go and crab it
+for me?</p>
+
+<p><i>Footm.</i> (<i>pathetically</i>). Mr. <span class="sc">Redbeak</span>, Sir, you'll excuse me, but
+I'm on'y one man 'ere, I ain't a 'undred. <i>Don't</i> thank 'eaven for
+it, Sir, it's 'ard when a man as tries to do his best, and with all
+my responsibilities on him&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p><i>Mr. Redb.</i> (<i>impatiently</i>). Oh, cheese it; you're not on a stool in
+'Ide Park, are you? I'm only <i>tellin'</i> you.</p>
+
+<p class="ind2"><i>Miss L.</i> (<i>on stage, singing chorus</i>).</p>
+
+<div class="poem2">  <div class="stanza">
+<p>Say, boys, say, if you'd like to come. Who's for a merry old "Tiddley-um?"</p>
+<p class="i2">Fall in behind, and we'll all get "blind," before they close the pub!</p>
+<p>You're not jays, so you won't refuse. Join our band, for we're on the booze,</p>
+<p class="i2">And you'll see some larks with the rollicking sparks of the Rowdy Razzle Club!</p>
+  </div>  </div>
+
+<p>(<i>Here she capers off, brandishing a gibus, and has a difficulty in
+opening the practicable door in the wing.</i> <i>To</i> Footman.) There you
+are <i>again!</i> How often am I to tell you to keep that wood open for
+my dance off? I break my fingers over it every blessed night, and
+lose my encore as well!</p>
+
+<p><i>Footm.</i> I'm exceedingly sorry, miss, but the fact of the matter is
+my attention was took off at the time owing to&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p><i>Miss L.</i> Oh, hold <i>your</i> jaw, do.</p>
+
+<p><i>Footm.</i> (<i>to himself</i>). I'm to hold my jaw! Oh, these hartistes,
+they lead me a dorg's life among 'em!</p>
+
+<p><i>Mr. Redb.</i> (<i>touching</i> Miss L.'s <i>coat as she passes</i>). What's that
+badge you're wearing? Salvation Army, Temperance, Primrose
+League, or what?</p>
+
+<p><i>Miss L.</i> No, only the colours
+of the Balls Pond Football
+Team; they presented them
+to me the other day. I told
+them <i>I</i> didn't play football.</p>
+
+<p><i>Mr. Redb.</i> You're pretty
+fair at the 'igh kick though,
+ain't you? There, there. 'Alf
+time. Goin' on again?</p>
+
+<p><i>Miss L.</i> With a cold like
+mine? Not likely. Just look
+at my tongue! (<i>She protrudes
+the tip of an indigo-coloured
+tongue for his inspection.</i>)</p>
+
+<p><i>Mr. Redb.</i> (<i>concerned</i>). Why,
+it's like one o' those Chow-chow
+dogs, I'm blest if it isn't! You
+<i>are</i> off colour to-night, no mistake!</p>
+
+<p><i>Miss L.</i> Oh, that's the remedy,
+not the disease&mdash;liquorice, you
+know.</p>
+
+<p><i>Stage-M.</i> Now, <span class="sc">Alf</span>, if you're
+in such a hurry, go on. Cut it
+as short as you like&mdash;no extra
+turns to-night.</p>
+
+<p><i>Mr. Redb.</i> No fear. Oh dear,
+oh dear, such a rush as it is!</p>
+
+<p class="ind2">[<i>He goes on grumbling.</i></p>
+
+<p><i>A Small Boy</i> (<i>who has been
+sitting patiently on a chair by the
+wing&mdash;to</i> Stage-Manager). If
+you please, Sir, will Mr. <span class="sc">Wildfire</span>
+want me to-night?</p>
+
+<p><i>Miss L.</i> Want you, indeed,
+you silly kid! What would Mr.
+<span class="sc">Wildfire</span> want a shrimp like
+you for?</p>
+
+<p><i>The Boy.</i> If he's going to do
+the Sandwich Man 'ere to-night,
+he'll want me, <i>I</i> know. Why,
+it all <i>depends</i> on me, that song
+does. (<i>To</i> Stage-M.) <i>Is</i> he
+going to do the Sandwich Man
+to-night, Sir?</p>
+
+<p><i>Stage-M.</i> Oh, don't bother
+me; wait till he comes and you'll find out. (<i>To</i> Miss L.) I suppose
+you've heard he's talking of not renewing his engagement after
+to-night&mdash;giving up the halls altogether!</p>
+
+<p><i>Miss L.</i> And no great loss either! I don't see anything particular
+about his songs myself. As for all that gas about his raising the tone
+of the halls, it's sickening. Anyone would suppose we <i>lowered</i> it!</p>
+
+<p><i>Miss Cissie Cinders (coming out of a dressing-cabin, in a battered
+old velvet hat and broken feathers, with her face smudged).</i> Who's
+that you're talking about? <span class="sc">Wildfire?</span> Ah, my dear, this 'Igh Art
+and Littery rot'll be the ruin of the 'alls&mdash;him and his articles in
+the swell magazines, praising us all up&mdash;he can keep his praises to
+himself&mdash;<i>I</i> don't want 'em! I've never set up to refine the public
+myself, or else I could fake it easy enough!</p>
+
+<p class="ind2">[<i>She passes on to stage.</i></p>
+
+<p><i>Mr. Gus. Tadman</i> (<i>Variety Vocalist</i>). We could all do it, come to
+that. But there, he won't last, you'll see. Why, look at the 'it I
+made with my "<i>Rorty Naughty Nell</i>"! That <i>was</i> a good song if you
+like, and well-written, mind yer. But lor, it's clean forgotten now.
+I 'ear <span class="sc">Wildfire's</span> bringing out a play to-night at the Hilarity,
+it'll serve him right if it gets the bird, going back on his own profession
+like that! (<i>To</i> Miss <span class="sc">Cinders</span>, <i>who has just sung</i>.) House
+cold to-night?</p>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="page221" id="page221"></a>[pg 221]</span>
+
+<div class="figright" style="width: 300px;"><a href="images/220-800.png"><img src="images/220-300.png" width="300" height="400" alt="'It's like singing to a lot of 'ap'ny ices!'" /></a>
+<p class="center">"It's like singing to a lot of 'ap'ny ices!"</p></div>
+
+<p><i>Miss Cinders</i> (<i>in a temper</i>). Cold, it's like singing to a lot of
+'ap'ny ices! I used to have the choruses all sung for me when I
+brought out that song first; and now they've let me go off without
+a 'and! We shall see whether they'll rise to <span class="sc">Wildfire</span> to-night.
+Ah, here he is. Actually coming up to speak to us; there's an
+honour!</p>
+
+<p><i>Miss Betsy Beno</i> (<i>to</i> <span class="sc">Wildfire</span>, <i>as he passes the table where she
+is sitting waiting for her turn</i>). 'Ere, <span class="sc">Watty</span>, old man, stop and 'ave
+a drop along of me. Do&mdash;there's plenty 'ere! (<i>as</i> <span class="sc">Wildfire</span> <i>excuses
+himself laughingly</i>). Well, I'm sure&mdash;refusing to drink when a
+lady goes out of her way to ask him&mdash;he hasn't the manners of
+a pig! And I draw my sixty quid a week the same as he does!</p>
+
+<p><i>Mr. Tadman.</i> Well, dear boy, how's the play getting on? Not a
+frost, I hope?</p>
+
+<p><i>Wildfire.</i> No; I just looked in on my way from the Val. here, and
+they seemed to think it was all right; but I couldn't stay till the
+finish. They're going to send round and let me know. (<i>To the</i>
+Small Boy, <i>who has approached anxiously</i>.) Oh, there you are,
+youngster! Yes, I shall want you&mdash;for the last time, you know.</p>
+
+<p><i>The Boy.</i> Why, you&mdash;you ain't going to take the part away from
+me, Sir, when I created it, too!</p>
+
+<p><i>Wildf.</i> (<i>patting his shoulder kindly</i>). I'm giving up singing
+altogether&mdash;that's why. Never mind; I'll see it makes no difference
+to you, so don't you distress yourself. We'll find you something
+or other to do.</p>
+
+<p><i>The Boy</i> (<i>with a gulp</i>). If I ain't going to be with <i>you</i> any more,
+I&mdash;I don't care <i>what</i> 'appens, Sir. I'd as soon throw up the perfession
+myself, I would!</p>
+
+<p class="ind2">[<i>He turns away into a dark corner.</i></p>
+
+<p><i>Wildf.</i> (<i>to himself, as he goes to the wing</i>). Nice boy that; didn't
+think he'd care so much; must keep an eye on him. <i>Flattery</i>
+must be over now. I wish I could have stayed to see it out; it
+was going magnificently; but there were some rather risky scenes
+ahead. Still, I believe it's a success; and, if it is, I shall have
+done with all this for ever after to-night. I can go to <span class="sc">Althea</span>
+and tell her, without&mdash;&mdash; By Jove! wasn't it to-night that Old
+<span class="sc">Toovey</span> was to be in front? I wonder what he'll think of it. (<i>He
+looks at himself in the mirror.</i>) He'll have some difficulty in
+recognising me in this get up. Well, I shall know on Monday.
+(<i>He goes on, and sings; then rushes back to the wing to change his
+costume, with the assistance of his dresser.</i>) Yes, the coat, now,
+dresser, please. (<i>To himself, as he paints some lines on his face.</i>)
+I couldn't see anyone at all like old <span class="sc">Toovey</span>. Very odd! They
+must have sent him the box, I suppose. Well, it doesn't matter;
+if he didn't think it necessary to come, so much the better. (<i>Aloud.</i>)
+Wigpaste, please. Now the boards. All right&mdash;I'm ready. (<i>To
+the Boy.</i>) Now, youngster, look out for your cue.</p>
+
+<p class="ind2">[<i>He goes on.</i></p>
+
+<p><i>The Limelight Man</i> (<i>up in the flies&mdash;to himself</i>). What's wrong
+with Mr. <span class="sc">Wildfire</span>? He as nearly broke down just now as&mdash;&mdash;and
+I can't keep the limelight on him nohow to-night! He can't
+have been drinking&mdash;he ain't <i>that</i> sort. But he do look bad&mdash;it's
+as much as ever he can do to go through with it; somethink's given
+him a turn.</p>
+
+<p><i>Wildfire</i> (<i>to himself, as he goes back to the wing, unsteadily</i>).
+She's here&mdash;and, what's worse, she's recognised me! She must
+have, or she would never have looked like that. If I could only
+have told her first; but, to discover it like this,&mdash;she'll think I
+meant to&mdash;&mdash; (<i>He pitches away his boards in a fury.</i>) Well, I've
+done for myself&mdash;it's all over! (<i>To his dresser.</i>) A note, eh?</p>
+
+<p>[<i>He opens it, and reads the contents mechanically</i>; Mr. <span class="sc">Tadman</span>
+<i>and one or two other artistes come up with curiosity
+on seeing his expression</i>.</p>
+
+<p><i>Tadm.</i> Why, <span class="sc">Wildfire</span>, old man, what's this? Play gone
+wrong? Never mind, dear boy, we can't have everything. But
+what's the report, eh?</p>
+
+<p><i>Wildf.</i> (<i>impatiently</i>). Oh, I don't know. What does it matter
+now? (<i>He lets the note fall.</i>) There, you can read it if you want to
+know.</p>
+
+<p class="ind2">[<i>He walks away.</i></p>
+
+<p><i>Tadm.</i> (<i>with complacency</i>). Poor chap, he's hard hit! But I
+could have told him it wasn't to be expected that&mdash;&mdash; (<i>He picks
+up the note, and reads it with a falling jaw.</i>) Hullo! What's the
+meaning of this? It says the piece is a tremendous go&mdash;safe for
+a long run&mdash;had to raise the rag again and again. Why, he'll
+make his fortune over this alone; and yet, look at him! (<i>Pointing
+to</i> <span class="sc">Wildfire</span>, <i>who has seated himself on the pile of lumber, in utter
+dejection</i>.) And all those fools in front clapping and stamping for
+him to come on again. What <i>more</i> does the feller want, I wonder!</p>
+
+<p class="center"><span class="sc">End of Scene</span> XIII.</p>
+
+<hr class="full" />
+
+<p class="ind1"><span class="sc">Union is (Logical) Weakness.</span>&mdash;The Congregational Union lays
+it down as a law, "that the rights of humanity must take precedence
+of those of property." We fear this admirable maxim (like
+equally admirable Charity) might be made to cover a multitude
+of sins, from petty larceny to anarchism. Would it be consonant
+with the "rights of humanity," for, say, a Congregational Unionist
+to object to a poor tramp stealing his best umbrella on a wet day?</p>
+
+<hr class="medium" />
+
+<h2 class="sans">ROBERT ON THE COMING SHO.</h2>
+
+<p><span class="sc">Well</span>, here we are just about gitting to the bend of our Citty
+Year, when we changes our raining Sovverain, altho he is but twelve
+munse old, and takes on a new one, for better or wuss as the case
+may be, and in this case I most suttenly thinks that it would be werry
+differcult indeed to change for a
+better, for it tisn't not only me and
+all my tribe, as <i>Shylock</i> calls us, but
+all the many hundreds, if not thowsends,
+as has had a share of the Rite
+Honnerabel the <span class="sc">Lord Mare's</span> noble
+ospitality, must all agree that a more
+liberaller, or hospitaler, or hopen
+artider Gent never entered the
+honored Manshun House than him
+who to ewerybody's regret is a
+going next week for to leave it!</p>
+
+<div class="figleft" style="width: 150px;"><a href="images/221-400.png"><img src="images/221-150.png" width="150" height="280" alt="Robert" /></a></div>
+
+<p>Why, I ardly expecs to be beleeved
+when I says as we have sumtimes
+had as many as three or fore grand
+Bankwets in one week, and the <span class="sc">Lord
+Mare</span> woud get up as usual the nex
+morning as if he thort nothink of it!
+No more he did, no not ewen when
+the King of <span class="sc">Denmark</span> himself came
+and dined with him at Gildall, and
+explained to him all about the unfortnet
+death of <i>Prince Hamlet!</i></p>
+
+<p>I do hear as we are to have such
+a Lord Mare's Sho as we ain't offen
+had, including, above all things that
+nobody coudn't have emagined, nothink less than a reel copy of the
+grand New Tower Bridge, and if that won't be a site for the
+estonished Multitood praps somebody will kindly tell me what
+woud be.</p>
+
+<p>There was a tork of asking all the Roossian Sailors, who has been
+a having sitch a jolly time of it in France, to run over and jine the
+Sho first and the Bankwet arterwards, but it was werry doutful
+whether ewen all the Haldermen, much less all the Common Counselmen,
+coud have chatted away with them in their own native tung, so
+the idear was given up in favour of Fire engines and Fire men.</p>
+
+<p>I've seen a goodish many Lord Mare's Shos in my time, and
+hopes to see a few more, in spite of the gellous growls of another
+body of gents as shall be nameless, but it woud suttenly be a grand
+joke to see the gellous body elluded to coming out in a London
+County show of their own, amid the skoffs and jiers and larfter of
+the emused Metrolopus!</p>
+
+<p class="author"><span class="sc">Robert.</span></p>
+
+<hr class="medium" />
+
+<h2>THE "OBERLAND" ROUTE.</h2>
+
+<blockquote><p>
+["A scheme for making a waterway between Switerland and the Adriatic
+is to be submitted to the Federal Government at no very distant date."&mdash;<i>Westminster
+Gazette.</i>]
+</p></blockquote>
+
+<p><i>British Minister, Bern, to Lord Rosebery, London.</i>&mdash;A <span class="sc">Mr. Jones</span>,
+who says he's a British subject, went up Pilatus to get view.
+Didn't get it. Also complains of overcharge for candles at his hotel.
+Have demanded immediate satisfaction from Swiss Government.
+Please send Mediterranean Squadron to Locarno.</p>
+
+<p><i>Lord Rosebery, London, to British Minister, Bern.</i>&mdash;Can't spare
+the Squadron. Won't a gunboat do? You may speak strongly to
+Swiss Government. Tell them insult to <span class="sc">Jones</span> is insult to England.
+Meanwhile, wire best route for fleet to get up to Bern, if necessary.
+Don't see it on map.</p>
+
+<p><i>Brit. Min., B., to Lord R.</i>&mdash;Owing to Mediterranean Squadron
+not having appeared at Locarno, Swiss Government very aggressive.
+Passenger steamers on Lakes of Geneva, Thun, and Lucerne being
+converted into a fleet. Special new <i>corps d'armée</i> formed from
+Chamounix guides and patriotic hotel waiters. Man (whose name
+was <span class="sc">Robinson</span>) mistaken for <span class="sc">Jones</span>, and mobbed in streets last night.
+Some kind of Naval Demonstration absolutely necessary. Put ships
+on rail at Locarno, send 'em through Gothard Tunnel, and there
+you are!</p>
+
+<p><i>Lord R. to Brit. Min., B.</i>&mdash;British Government recognises gravity of
+the <span class="sc">Jones</span> incident. What do you advise? Aren't the Alps in the way?</p>
+
+<p><i>Brit. Min., B., to Lord R.</i>&mdash;Didn't like to suggest details. Send
+ironclads. Ram something. Why not bombard Alps. Gunboat
+moored at Devil's Bridge might shell Andermatt. Leave it to you.</p>
+
+<p><i>Lord R. to Brit. Min., B.</i>&mdash;Sorry to say, European complications
+have now arisen from <span class="sc">Jones</span> incident. Swiss Government has offered
+its fleet to Russia and France. Triple Alliance tottering. Can't you
+get Swiss Government to apologise to <span class="sc">Jones</span>, and end business?</p>
+
+<p><i>Brit. Min. to Lord R.</i>&mdash;Business <i>is</i> ended. <span class="sc">Jones</span> not a British
+subject after all, but a Swede, who's travelled in America! Recall
+gunboat.</p>
+
+<hr class="medium" />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="page222" id="page222"></a>[pg 222]</span>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;"><a href="images/222-1500.png"><img src="images/222-600.png" width="600" height="407" alt="THE SPREAD OF CULTURE DOWNWARDS." /></a>
+<h3 class="sans">THE SPREAD OF CULTURE DOWNWARDS.</h3>
+
+<p>"<span class="sc">Ullo, Mary, what's this? Name of the 'Ouse?</span>"
+"<span class="sc">No, Mr. Ignorance; it's a Latin word, and means 'Please to Wipe your Feet!'</span>"</p></div>
+
+<hr class="medium" />
+
+<h2>"RESH'PROSH'TY."</h2>
+
+<blockquote><p>
+["What struck the <span class="sc">Tzar</span> ... in the recent festivities, was the feeling of
+fraternity which seemed to pervade the multitude.... The feeling of
+concord and fraternity appears to survive the last echoes of the festivities ... The
+word now most frequently heard is 'Amnesty.' This, indeed, is the
+fittest coping-stone to prolonged festivities characterised by universal
+concord."&mdash;<i>Times' Paris Correspondent.</i>]
+</p></blockquote>
+
+<div class="poem1">  <div class="stanza">
+<p><i>President.</i> "Prolonged feshtivitish!" Thash good, that ish!</p>
+<p class="i6"><i>Very</i> prolonged, ole f'ler, an' <i>awf'ly</i> feshtive!</p>
+<p><i>Tzar.</i> Yesh, tha' what shtruck <i>me!</i> (<i>Aside.</i>) But I really wish</p>
+<p class="i6">He wouldn't gush. <span class="sc">Romanoff</span> pride turns reshtive!</p>
+<p><i>President.</i> <i>Sho</i> glad it shtruck you sho! An' nurrer thing</p>
+<p class="i8">You <i>mush</i> ha' notish'd. Feeling of fraternity</p>
+<p class="i6">All over shop! I shay, may friendship's wing</p>
+<p class="i8">Ne'er moult a feather, not to all eternity.</p>
+<p><i>Tzar.</i> I echosh tha' fine Shwiveller shentiment</p>
+<p class="i8">Entirely! (<i>Aside.</i>) I must not appear too sober.</p>
+<p><i>President.</i> Now Fransh ish shatishfied&mdash;an' world content!</p>
+<p class="i8">Republic won't forget thish last October!</p>
+<p class="i6">Feelingsh of concord, cetra, <i>will</i> survive</p>
+<p class="i8">Last echosh of feshtivitish&mdash;for ever!</p>
+<p><i>Tzar.</i> Oh, coursh! Asshure you I am quite alive</p>
+<p class="i8">To reshiproshity&mdash;shan't forget it&mdash;never!</p>
+<p><i>President.</i> Thash ri' ole f'ler! <i>Our</i> resh&mdash;hic!&mdash;proshity&mdash;</p>
+<p class="i8">Not like the comic Yankee's, all one shide?</p>
+<p><i>Tzar.</i> Certainly not! Shorry to say good-bye!</p>
+<p class="i8">But though our bodiesh part, our soulsh are tied.</p>
+<p><i>President.</i> Precishly! We're <i>both</i> tight&mdash;mean tied&mdash;in knotsh.</p>
+<p class="i8">The champagne, an' the speeches, an' the kisshes</p>
+<p class="i8">Have bound our bosomsh, and combined our lotsh!</p>
+<p><i>Tzar.</i> Quite sho! (<i>Aside.</i>) I'll watch a chance to hint my wishes.</p>
+<p><i>President.</i> We've had a jolly time, and now, ole f'ler,</p>
+<p class="i8">Ash "coping-shtone" to all this talk and toddy,</p>
+<p class="i6">As shequel to thish patr'otic stir,</p>
+<p class="i8">I'm going to amneshty&mdash;yesh, <i>everybody!</i></p>
+<p class="i6">Wha' shay, dear <span class="sc">Romanoff</span>, will you do same?</p>
+<p class="i8">Jush show, y' know, that thersh no animoshity!</p>
+<p><i>Tzar</i> (<i>aside</i>). Oh, <i>that</i> is the Republic's little game?</p>
+<p class="i8">Russia can't stand <i>that</i> form of reciprocity!</p>
+<p class="i6">(<i>Aloud.</i>) All ri', ole f'ler, you jush leave that to <i>Me!</i></p>
+<p class="i8">Mosh noble notion, that shame "coping-shtone!"</p>
+<p class="i6">By way, ole f'ler, talking of amneshty&mdash;</p>
+<p class="i8"><i>Could you just 'blige me with a trifling Loan?</i></p>
+  </div>  </div>
+
+<hr class="medium" />
+
+<h2>THE PROFESSION OF&mdash;JOURNALISM.</h2>
+
+<h4>(<i>An Entirely Imaginary Letter.</i>)</h4>
+
+<p class="ind">Dear <span class="sc">Mr. B-ch-n-n</span>,&mdash;Our famous Third Page rather dull lately.
+Couldn't you enliven it up by one of your characteristic letters&mdash;say
+on "The Profession of Literature"? Say all the old things about
+its degrading effect on those who follow it, including yourself&mdash;the
+public loves to see a vivisection in public&mdash;and be sure to spice it
+well with distinguished names, such as <span class="sc">Sw-nb-rn-</span>, <span class="sc">R-ss-tt-</span>, etc.
+Any depreciatory anecdotes would be very telling, and serve to
+evoke indignant <i>free</i> replies from those who wouldn't guess they
+were jumping to a prepared bait. I shall count on you for a
+column.</p>
+
+<p class="author">Yours faithfully, &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;
+<span class="sc">The Editor of the &mdash;&mdash;</span>.&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;</p>
+
+<p class="center">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;P.S.&mdash;Of course you will be insulted at the usual rate.&mdash;<span class="sc">Ed.</span></p>
+
+<p class="author">[<i>Result&mdash;the usual one on the famous Third Page.</i>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;</p>
+
+<hr class="medium" />
+
+<h3>Mot by a Member.</h3>
+
+<h4>(<i>During the Debate on the Second Reading of the Parish Councils Bill.</i>)</h4>
+
+<div class="poem">  <div class="stanza">
+<p><span class="sc">Fowler</span> was longish, <span class="sc">Long</span> was even longer,</p>
+<p><span class="sc">More</span> was much less so, <span class="sc">Stanhope</span> little stronger;</p>
+<p>But <span class="sc">Heneage</span> even when brief's sublime</p>
+<p>He's not for Hene-age, but for all (our) time!</p>
+<p>What a relief after such thrice-skimmed milk</p>
+<p>To get truth's cream from <span class="sc">Rollit</span> and from <span class="sc">Dilke</span>!</p>
+  </div>  </div>
+
+<hr class="medium" />
+
+<p class="ind2"><span class="sc">The Latest "Glass of Fashion."</span>&mdash;The dress fashioned of
+spun-glass, as a royal robe for the Princess <span class="sc">Eulalia</span> of Spain, and
+exhibited at the Chicago World's Fair.</p>
+
+<hr class="medium" />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="page223" id="page223"></a>[pg 223]</span>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;"><a href="images/223-1200.png"><img src="images/223-500.png" width="500" height="641" alt="'RESH'PROSH'TY.'" /></a>
+<h1>"RESH'PROSH'TY."</h1>
+
+<p><span class="sc">M. Carnot.</span> "WELL, OLE F'LER, WE'VE ALL HAD JOLLY GOOD TIME&mdash;AN' I'M GOING T' AMNESTY
+EV'RYB'Y!! YOU&mdash;DO&mdash;SAME!!"</p>
+
+<p><span class="sc">Tzar.</span> "LEAVE THAT T' ME. BY TH' WAY&mdash;COULD YOU 'BLIGE ME&mdash;TRIFLIN' LOAN?"</p></div>
+
+<hr class="medium" />
+
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="page224" id="page224"></a>[pg 224]</span><br />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="page225" id="page225"></a>[pg 225]</span>
+
+<h3>"BUT THAT'S ANOTHER STORY."</h3>
+
+<h4>(<i>Rudyard Kipling passim.</i>)</h4>
+
+<div class="poem">  <div class="stanza">
+<p><span class="sc">Tom's</span> uncle by his will</p>
+<p class="i2">Left <span class="sc">Tom</span> in greatest glory.</p>
+<p>There <i>was</i> a codicil&mdash;</p>
+<p class="i2">"But that's another story."</p>
+  </div><div class="stanza">
+<p><span class="sc">Phil</span> wooed a fair one, <span class="sc">Kate</span>;</p>
+<p class="i2">She met him <i>con amore</i>.</p>
+<p>The damages were great&mdash;</p>
+<p class="i2">"But that's another story."</p>
+  </div><div class="stanza">
+<p><span class="sc">Hugh's</span> rent (for an address!)</p>
+<p class="i2">Was far and wide <i>in ore</i>.</p>
+<p>His suite now costs him less&mdash;</p>
+<p class="i2">"But that's another <i>story</i>."</p>
+  </div><div class="stanza">
+<p>Of readers not a few</p>
+<p class="i2">Deem <span class="sc">Rider Haggard</span> gory.</p>
+<p>We have <span class="sc">Macbeth</span>, it's true&mdash;</p>
+<p class="i2">"But that's another story."</p>
+  </div><div class="stanza">
+<p>One <span class="sc">Joseph</span> was enrolled&mdash;</p>
+<p class="i2">Though now a sort of Tory&mdash;</p>
+<p>A Williamite of old&mdash;</p>
+<p class="i2">"But that's another story."</p>
+  </div><div class="stanza">
+<p>Some maids would make it known</p>
+<p class="i2">They'll wait till locks are hoary,</p>
+<p>But wed for love alone&mdash;</p>
+<p class="i2">"<span class="gesperrt">But that's</span> another '<b>story</b>.'"</p>
+  </div>  </div>
+
+<hr class="medium" />
+
+<h3>IN BLACK AND WHITE.</h3>
+
+<h4>(<i>A Modern Glove Romance.</i>)</h4>
+
+<div class="poem">  <div class="stanza">
+<p><span class="sc">That</span> pair of gloves you wore when first we met</p>
+<p class="i4">Were what you called, I think, a "pair of loves."</p>
+<p>You won them from your cousin on a bet&mdash;</p>
+<p class="i6">That pair of gloves.</p>
+  </div><div class="stanza">
+<p>Now as to colour, this or that shade proves</p>
+<p class="i4">A shade expensive, runs you into debt.</p>
+<p>Tan's universal, while a tint of dove's</p>
+<p class="i4">Particularly nice for evening. Yet</p>
+<p>Black with white stitching most my fancy moves,</p>
+<p class="i4">And such were yours. I never can forget</p>
+<p class="i6">That pair of gloves.</p>
+  </div>  </div>
+
+<hr class="medium" />
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 300px;"><a href="images/225-800.png"><img src="images/225-300.png" width="300" height="452" alt="TOO COSTLY." /></a>
+<h3 class="sans">TOO COSTLY.</h3>
+
+<p><i>The Vicar.</i> "<span class="sc">Dear, dear, Mrs. Prickles, I regret to hear that
+Mrs. Brown has treated you so shamefully. I should counsel you
+to heap Coals of Fire on her head</span>&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p><i>Mrs. P.</i> "<span class="sc">Ah, Sir&mdash;that's wot I <i>would</i> do, as soon as look at 'er:
+but I can't afford it at One-an'-ninepence a 'Underdweight</span>!"</p></div>
+
+<hr class="medium" />
+
+<h3>RHODES TO &mdash;&mdash;?</h3>
+
+<div class="poem">  <div class="stanza">
+<p><span class="sc">Sir Henry Loch</span> may hold the key</p>
+<p>In Africa, but all must see</p>
+<p>That <span class="sc">Rhodes</span> the handle hath fast grip on,</p>
+<p>Shouts "Let her rip!"&mdash;despite Lord <span class="sc">Ripon</span>.</p>
+<p>Cut is poor <span class="sc">Lobengula's</span> comb,</p>
+<p>'Tis said that all roads lead to Rome.</p>
+<p>The new Ring that old saw explodes;</p>
+<p>Where'er we roam we're led to&mdash;<span class="sc">Rhodes</span>.</p>
+<p>Whether or no this Great Panjandrum</p>
+<p>(Who handles well the pen, sword, <i>and</i> drum)</p>
+<p>Is the true friend of Civilisation,</p>
+<p>And puts her laws in operation;</p>
+<p>At least he can maintain with pride,</p>
+<p>He has her Maxims on his side.</p>
+  </div>  </div>
+
+<hr class="medium" />
+
+<h3>FABIUS FIN-DE-SIÈCLE.</h3>
+
+<blockquote><p>
+[The Fabian Society, in the <i>Fortnightly
+Review</i>, has "launched a
+manifesto, which proposes that the
+Government shall be attacked by
+extreme Radicals because it has
+only met them half way."]
+</p></blockquote>
+
+<div class="poem">  <div class="stanza">
+<p><span class="sc">Strange</span> that a "Fabian policy," up-to-date,</p>
+<p>Should be so obviously <i>not</i> to wait!</p>
+<p>Sure the Society's name is chosen ill!</p>
+<p><span class="sc">Rupert</span> the title-rôle might fitlier fill.</p>
+<p>The Fabian Manifesto frightens no man;</p>
+<p>But just conceive the great, but cautious, Roman</p>
+<p>Heading a restive, Radical "Ugly Rush"!</p>
+<p>Though Patience suffers in the Modern Crush,</p>
+<p>Perchance the Socialistic perorator</p>
+<p>Might learn a lesson from the great Cunctator!</p>
+  </div>  </div>
+
+<hr class="medium" />
+
+<h2>THE CABMAN'S GUIDE TO POLITENESS.&mdash;No. II.</h2>
+
+<ul class="none">
+<li><span class="outdent"><i>Question.</i></span> I think when you are out of temper, and have been
+asked by a Fare, who appears to know more (or less) about distances
+than you do, to stop, you pretend not to hear him?</li>
+
+<li><i>Answer.</i> Yes; and I continue not to hear him until a policeman
+pulls me up.</li>
+
+<li><i>Q.</i> Quite so; and then you have a way of giving a jerk while
+your Fare is getting in which either covers a lady's dress with mud,
+or all but breaks the leg of a gentleman?</li>
+
+<li><i>A.</i> Well, I have known such things to happen.</li>
+
+<li><i>Q.</i> And when you reach your destination, you carefully forget
+the number of the street or square, and are equally hard of hearing
+if your Fare attempts to direct you?</li>
+
+<li><i>A.</i> You have hit it, especially if it's raining.</li>
+
+<li><i>Q.</i> Of course. And when you get your money, you sneer and drive
+away, as if you were disgusted?</li>
+
+<li><i>A.</i> Yes. And as I go off I make as much splash as I can, in the
+hope of my late fare getting a dose of the mud.</li>
+
+<li><i>Q.</i> Exactly. Now, don't you think it would be better to come up
+cheerfully, drive carefully, and when you receive your money,
+observe, "Well, Sir (or Madam), I know I have no right to more,
+but times are hard, and if you would spare an extra sixpence, I
+should consider it a real kindness?" Would not that mode be
+better than the other? Would it not be more profitable?</li>
+
+<li><i>A.</i> It might, but I can't say, as I have never tried it.</li>
+
+<li><i>Q.</i> Again, what is your method of obtaining what you consider
+to be your rights from a mother with two boxes and four small
+children?</li>
+
+<li><i>A.</i> Why I generally swear at the kids and sit on the boxes until
+I am paid what I ask, or get sent to the right-abouts by a policeman.</li>
+
+<li><i>Q.</i> No doubt; yet such a course seems both barbarous and inconvenient.
+Could you not improve upon it?</li>
+
+<li><i>A.</i> Not I. It is the right thing to do, and that is why I do it.</li>
+
+<li><i>Q.</i> And yet would it not be as easy for you to help the boxes
+down yourself, and then to make friends with the mother through
+her children? Could you not observe, "Bless their hearts, they are
+fine lads, or young ladies (as the case might be), and you should be
+proud of them, mum?"</li>
+
+<li><i>A.</i> Yes, I might say that, but I don't think the mother would
+come down with the cash any quicker on account of it.</li>
+
+<li><i>Q.</i> But supposing, when you were offered less than you thought
+due to you, could you not observe, "I have children of my own,
+mum, and if you could spare a couple of shillings (or half-a-crown,
+or what you thought right) more, it would be a real kindness, and
+give my children something more than bread and water for dinner?"
+Could you not say that?</li>
+
+<li><i>A.</i> I might, but I won't.</li>
+
+<li><i>Q.</i> But surely it would be pleasanter for you to be amiable and
+courteous instead of a bully and a brute? And would it not be
+easier, too?</li>
+
+<li><i>A.</i> Try for yourself. Just you drive a cab for a dozen hours in
+all weathers, and then you will learn what chances you have of
+feeling light-hearted and polite!</li>
+</ul>
+
+<hr class="medium" />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="page226" id="page226"></a>[pg 226]</span>
+
+<h2 class="sans">PREPARING FOR CHRISTMAS.</h2>
+
+<h4>(<i>A Yule-tide Story told in Advance.</i>)</h4>
+
+<p>Yes, <span class="sc">Scrooge</span> was an altered
+man! He was genial and amiable,
+and altogether an estimable
+being. <span class="sc">Scrooge's</span> nephew was
+delighted with the change. He
+could scarcely believe his ears
+and eyes.</p>
+
+<p>"And don't you really interfere
+with the theatres, Sir?"
+asked <span class="sc">Scrooge's</span> nephew. "At
+one time you were always telling
+them to take down this, and put
+up that, and making the lives of
+the managers burdens to them.
+Don't you interfere any longer?"</p>
+
+<p>"Of course not, my lad," replied
+<span class="sc">Scrooge</span>, heartily. "Why
+should I? This is the pleasantest
+world imaginable, and it would be
+less charming without its playhouses."</p>
+
+<p>"Right you are, Sir," returned
+<span class="sc">Scrooge's</span> nephew; "but
+I suppose you look in occasionally
+at the halls to supervise the entertainments?"</p>
+
+<p>"I look in to enjoy them, my
+boy!" cried <span class="sc">Scrooge</span>, with a
+ringing laugh, that could be heard
+for furlongs. "What do they
+want with <i>my</i> supervision?"</p>
+
+<p>"I am sure I don't know,
+uncle; but I thought it was a
+way you had. And then you are
+going to strip the hoardings of
+the posters, aren't you?"</p>
+
+<p>"I strip the hoardings of the
+posters! Why should I? The
+hoardings look a precious sight
+better covered with pictures than
+left to dirt and decay. I interfere
+with the hoardings! I never
+heard of such a thing! What
+put <i>that</i> into your head?"</p>
+
+<p>"Well, it used to be an old way
+of yours," returned <span class="sc">Scrooge's</span>
+nephew. "Why, uncle, don't
+you remember? You used to
+be interfering with and ordering
+about everything. Taking up
+the road and closing the thoroughfare.
+Bothering the costermongers
+and the retail shopkeepers
+and the small householders. In
+fact, making yourself a general
+nuisance in all directions. Why,
+uncle, you have entirely changed
+your nature!"</p>
+
+<p>"Not at all," said <span class="sc">Scrooge</span>.
+"I am not changed, but my
+office is. Do you not know that
+I have ceased to be a member of
+the London County Council?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, this is the first time I
+have heard of it! Why, that
+accounts for everything! It explains
+why you are a pleasant,
+good-natured old gentleman in
+lieu of a curmudgeon and a
+brute. It explains everything."</p>
+
+<p>And it did!</p>
+
+<hr class="medium" />
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 350px;"><a href="images/226-800.png"><img src="images/226-350.png" width="350" height="491" alt="MISUNDERSTOOD." /></a>
+<h3 class="sans">MISUNDERSTOOD.</h3>
+
+<p><i>Noble Philanthropist.</i> "<span class="sc">That Parcel seems rather heavy for
+you, my little Man! Let me take it!</span>"</p>
+
+<p><i>Small boy.</i> "<span class="sc">Let yer tyke my Parcel! Garn with yer.
+I'll call the Perlice!</span>"</p></div>
+
+<hr class="medium" />
+
+<p class="ind"><span class="sc">Name!</span> <span class="sc">Name!</span>&mdash;No name has
+been announced for the new daily
+paper projected by Mr. <span class="sc">Stead</span>.
+In view of the plan frankly set
+forth in the prospectus, whereby
+one hundred thousand persons are
+to subscribe the capital, and if
+the venture proves a success the
+enterprising editor is to have
+the option of acquiring the property,
+a suitable title would be,
+<i>Heads-I-Win-Tails-You-Lose</i>.
+It is a little long, perhaps;
+but it precisely describes the
+relative positions, and you can't&mdash;at
+least some people can't&mdash;have
+everything.</p>
+
+<hr class="medium" />
+
+<p class="center"><span class="sc">Dramatic Recipe</span> (<span class="sc">from the
+Queen's Cookery Book</span>).&mdash;First
+catch your <span class="sc">Hare</span>.</p>
+
+<hr class="medium" />
+
+<h3 class="sans">THE DARK CONTINENT IN TWO LIGHTS.</h3>
+
+<p class="ind">
+<span class="sc">Scene</span>&mdash;<i>A conquered country.</i> <span class="sc">Time</span>&mdash;<i>The
+Past. Conquerors (colonists) panting
+after their hard work in defeating the
+natives. Enter an</i> Official. <i>The remaining
+members of the Colonial Band sing
+the National Anthem.</i>
+</p>
+
+<p><i>Official.</i> I congratulate you upon your
+success. The more especially as you have
+gained it without the assistance of the
+Imperial power. (<i>The Colonists indulge in
+feeble cheers.</i>) But now my turn has
+arrived. In the name of the <span class="sc">Sovereign</span> I
+claim this land for England!</p>
+
+<p class="ind2">
+[<i>Plants the British Flag. Curtain.</i>
+</p>
+
+<p class="ind">
+<span class="sc">Scene</span>&mdash;<i>As before.</i> <span class="sc">Time</span>&mdash;<i>The Present.
+Conquerors (colonists) smoking after the
+pleasant toil of mowing down the
+natives. Enter an</i> Official. <i>The Colonial
+Band (in its entirety) takes no notice</i>.
+</p>
+
+<p><i>Official.</i> I congratulate you upon your
+success. The more especially as you have
+gained it without the assistance of the
+Imperial power. (<i>The Colonists indulge in
+roars of laughter.</i>) But now my turn has
+arrived. In the name of the <span class="sc">Sovereign</span> I
+claim this land for England!</p>
+
+<p><i>Colonists.</i> No you don't! Be off! We can
+get on without you!</p>
+
+<p class="ind2">
+[<i>Turns Official and his Flag out of the
+Country. Curtain.</i>
+</p>
+
+<hr class="medium" />
+
+<h3>ARGENTINA.</h3>
+
+<p class="center">[It is stated that <span class="sc">Jabez S. Balfour</span> is living
+"in a perfect fairy-land."]</p>
+
+<div class="poem">  <div class="stanza">
+<p>I Dreamt that I dwelt in marble halls,</p>
+<p class="i2">With orchids on every side,</p>
+<p>A very long way from Old Bailey's walls,</p>
+<p class="i2">Where <span class="sc">Newton</span> and <span class="sc">Hobbs</span> were tried.</p>
+<p>I had riches too great to count; could boast</p>
+<p class="i2">Of <span class="sc">Jabez</span>, an elegant name;</p>
+<p>And I also dreamt, which charmed me most,</p>
+<p class="i2">Argentina loved me the same.</p>
+  </div><div class="stanza">
+<p>I dreamt that my country let me go,</p>
+<p class="i2">In an indolent sort of way,</p>
+<p>For Scotland Yard did not seem to know</p>
+<p class="i2">It would "want" me another day.</p>
+<p>So they carefully closed the stable-door,</p>
+<p class="i2">When I'd fled beyond reach of blame;</p>
+<p>And I also dreamt, which charmed me more,</p>
+<p class="i2">Argentina loved me the same.</p>
+  </div><div class="stanza">
+<p>I dreamt that detectives sought my hand,</p>
+<p class="i2">But their warrants I could not see.</p>
+<p>So their vows my swindler's heart could withstand,</p>
+<p class="i2">Though they pledged their faith to me.</p>
+<p>Buenos Ayres' bold, brazen face,</p>
+<p class="i2">Never glows with the blush of shame;</p>
+<p>Though I should be lynched in a decent place,</p>
+<p class="i2">Argentina loves me the same.</p>
+  </div>  </div>
+
+<hr class="medium" />
+
+<p class="center"><span class="sc">A Great Field for Humorists Annually.</span>&mdash;"<i>Wit
+acres'</i> Almanack."</p>
+
+<hr class="medium" />
+
+<h2 class="sans">ESSENCE OF PARLIAMENT.</h2>
+
+<h4><span class="sc">Extracted from the Diary of Toby, M.P.</span></h4>
+
+<p><i>House of Commons, Thursday, November</i> 2.&mdash;Began
+work again to-day as if nothing had
+happened from February to September. Understood
+to have had a recess; so short hardly
+worth mentioning. Considering all circumstances,
+attendance marvellously large.
+<span class="sc">Marjoribanks</span> got his men together as usual,
+crowding benches on Ministerial side. Opposition
+not in quite such a hurry to wash their
+spears; but muster creditable. Irish camp
+deserted. "You see," said <span class="sc">Justin Mccarthy</span>,
+"it isn't our funeral. But the bhoys are
+hanging round and will turn up if wanted."</p>
+
+<p><span class="sc">Henry Fowler</span> moved Second Reading
+Parish Councils Bill. Adroit and able speech;
+rather hard on <span class="sc">Walter Long</span>; to him
+deputed position of spokesman on Front
+Opposition bench. Brought down notes of
+convincing speech. <span class="sc">Fowler</span> getting in first
+anticipated all his objections; met them with
+benevolent alacrity that disarmed hostility.
+What did statesmen opposite want? Anything
+in reason should be conceded. "Give
+your orders, gents, whilst the waiter's in the
+room."</p>
+
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="page227" id="page227"></a>[pg 227]</span>
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;"><a href="images/227-1500.png"><img src="images/227-600.png" width="600" height="428" alt="PARLIAMENT BY PROXY." /></a>
+<h3 class="sans">PARLIAMENT BY PROXY.</h3></div>
+
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="page228" id="page228"></a>[pg 228]</span>
+
+<p>This an admirable stroke of business, but
+a little depressing from spectacular point
+of view. No more pyrotechnics; no further
+meetings on the floor; no more grips at
+close quarters. <span class="sc">Hayes Fisher</span> looked on
+moodily; <span class="sc">Logan</span> passed Front Opposition
+bench without once so much as looking at place where <span class="sc">Carson</span> is accustomed
+meekly to repose. Respectable elderly gentlemen like <span class="sc">Francis</span>
+<span class="sc">Powell</span> and <span class="sc">Jeffreys</span> took the floor. Even contumacious <span class="sc">Cobb</span>
+admitted soothing influence of the hour. Didn't want anything
+more than that Parish
+Councils should have
+power to take land
+wherever they found
+it, and divide it
+amongst the poor. As
+everybody agreed Bill
+in the main desirable,
+and since <span class="sc">Fowler</span>
+had promised fullest
+consideration of
+amendments in Committee,
+seemed natural
+thing to do was forthwith
+to read Bill second
+time, and fix date
+of Committee.</p>
+
+<div class="figleft" style="width: 200px;"><a href="images/228a-500.png"><img src="images/228a-200.png" width="200" height="305" alt="Parish Councils." /></a>
+Parish Councils.</div>
+
+<p>"No, Sir," said
+<span class="sc">Stanley Leighton</span>,
+"I trust the House of
+Commons is not yet sunk so low as that.
+Confess I myself feel depressed. Couldn't
+to-night adequately fill my favourite and
+popular part of The Man from Shropshire.
+At least I'll deliver House from disgrace of
+bringing debate to a close for the puerile
+reason that we're all agreed Second Reading
+shall be taken."</p>
+
+<p>So he wandered on; was just warming into
+Man-from-Shropshire manner, when midnight
+sounded and Debate stood adjourned.</p>
+
+<p><i>Business done.</i>&mdash;Second Reading Parish
+Councils Bill moved.</p>
+
+<p><i>Friday.</i>&mdash;For middle-aged gentleman of
+long experience never saw man so discomposed
+as <span class="sc">Jesse Collings</span> was just now, when
+he let cat out of bag about future arrangements
+of the Unionists personal to himself.
+What is to be done with the Faithful One
+when <span class="sc">Joseph</span> comes into his own is favourite
+speculation in smoke-room. <span class="sc">Sage of
+Queen Anne's Gate</span> takes special interest in matter. Most men
+think <span class="sc">Jesse</span> should have Cabinet rank in Coalition Ministry.</p>
+
+<p>"No," says the <span class="sc">Sage</span>, "he should be a Viceroy, either of India
+or Canada. Cut out for the place; and there would be no question
+of salary, such as, seven years ago, embittered his relations
+with Mr. G."</p>
+
+<p>All these conjectures beside the point. Matter has, apparently,
+been settled in inner councils of party, and to-night <span class="sc">Jesse</span> accidentally,
+inadvertently, lifted the veil. "I have," he said, in
+course of luminous speech prefaced by addressing the <span class="sc">Speaker</span> as
+"Mr. Mayor," "something to say on that subject, but I will
+reserve my remarks for another place." House not very full at
+moment. But everyone knows meaning of House of Commons
+phrase "another place." Sensation profound. Bordesley soon to
+be bereft, for <span class="sc">Jesse Collings</span> is going to the Lords! <span class="sc">Henry
+Matthews</span>, a local authority on the subject, says even title been
+fixed upon. Nothing less than territorial style will do for the
+ex-Mayor and Radical Alderman. Soon the Upper House will
+greet Lord <span class="sc">Bordesley</span> of Birmingham.</p>
+
+<p>Quiet night, with further talk round Parish Councils Bill. Mr. G.
+present, seated between <span class="sc">Squire of Malwood</span> and <span class="sc">John Morley</span>.
+Singularly subdued in manner; takes no part in discussion; goes
+off to dinner in good time, and House sees him no more.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;"><a href="images/228b-1200.png"><img src="images/228b-600.png" width="600" height="453" alt="Ireland takes a back seat. Sir William on the Premier's right again." /></a>
+Ireland takes a back seat. Sir William on the Premier's right again.</div>
+
+<p>"And to think," said the <span class="sc">Squire</span>, glancing sideways at the
+placid figure beside him, "that this is the man painted in red
+and blue by Unionist pavement-artists. Their stories of Mr. G.
+always remind me of a passage in a theme produced by a
+young gentleman invited to state what he knew of Cardinal
+<span class="sc">Wolsey</span>.</p>
+
+<blockquote><p>
+"'In the siege of Quebec,' he wrote, 'he ascended the mountains at dead
+of night, when his enemies were at rest, and took the town at daybreak.
+His home policy was conducted in a similar manner.'
+</p></blockquote>
+
+<p>"There is about that a picturesque air of circumstantiality, combined
+with a fanciful inaccuracy, equalled only by things one reads
+or hears with reference to my right hon. friend, and revered leader."</p>
+
+<p><i>Business done.</i>&mdash;Some papers on Parish Councils read.</p>
+
+<hr class="medium" />
+
+<h3>Double Entente.</h3>
+
+<div class="poem">  <div class="stanza">
+<p>The <span class="sc">Tzar</span>, on peace and friendship all intent,</p>
+<p>To France his Admiral <span class="sc">Avellan</span> has sent.</p>
+<p>'Twere pity if this Russian olive-branch</p>
+<p>Portended merely General <span class="sc">Avalanche</span>.</p>
+  </div>  </div>
+
+<hr class="medium" />
+
+<p class="ind">Mrs. R. is astonished to hear that "Count
+<span class="sc">Taaffe</span>, the Austrian Premier, is an Irishman
+and a Member of the British House of
+Lords." She says she is sure she has heard
+that "<span class="sc">Taaffe</span> was a Welshman, <span class="sc">Taaffe</span> was
+a &mdash;&mdash;," but she must have been misinformed!!!</p>
+
+<hr class="medium" />
+
+<p class="ind1"><span class="sc">A Strike-ing Suggestion.</span>&mdash;The <span class="sc">Pitt</span>-coalition
+was a brilliant idea in its day. A
+coalition between masters and miners&mdash;a Pit-coal-ition,
+in fact&mdash;would solve the strike
+difficulty.</p>
+
+<hr class="medium" />
+
+<h3>THE FRENCH FLAG.</h3>
+
+<h4>AN AMICABLE APPEAL.</h4>
+
+<div class="poem">  <div class="stanza">
+<p>The Arab dhow to the chase is gone,</p>
+<p class="i2">Chock-full of slaves you'll discover it;</p>
+<p>And the British cruiser is artfully done</p>
+<p class="i2">By the French Flag flying over it!</p>
+<p>"Flag of France!" cries the British Tar,</p>
+<p class="i2">"The Arab hound betrays thee.</p>
+<p>Give him his due, at Zanzibar,</p>
+<p class="i2">And all the world shall praise thee!"</p>
+  </div><div class="stanza">
+<p>The captain and crew by the Franks were tried,</p>
+<p class="i2">And <i>escaped</i>&mdash;to the wide world's wonder!</p>
+<p>Oh glorious Flag! Is it then its pride</p>
+<p class="i2">That the slavers hide thereunder?</p>
+<p>Let France disdain to sully thee,</p>
+<p class="i2">With the curst kidnapper's knavery!</p>
+<p>Thy folds should float o'er the brave and free,</p>
+<p class="i2">And <i>never</i> protect foul Slavery!</p>
+  </div>  </div>
+
+<hr class="medium" />
+
+<h3>Misnomer.</h3>
+
+<div class="poem">  <div class="stanza">
+<p>"<span class="sc">Federation</span>" seems aggravation,</p>
+<p class="i2">Conciliation's dead!</p>
+<p>While fights the "Miners' Federation,"</p>
+<p class="i2">The Miners are <i>un</i>fed!</p>
+  </div>  </div>
+
+<hr class="medium" />
+
+<p class="ind1"><span class="sc">The Latest Autumn Fashions.</span>&mdash;Parliamentary
+Sessions and Feather Trimmings.
+Both involving cruelty to bipeds "on the
+wing," and each "more honoured in the
+breach than the observance."</p>
+
+<hr class="medium" />
+
+<h3>An Ulsterical Impromptu.</h3>
+
+<h4>(<i>By an Orange-hating Nationalist.</i>)</h4>
+
+<div class="poem">  <div class="stanza">
+<p>In Parliament assembled see them move</p>
+<p class="i2">Their resolutions lacking rhyme and reason,</p>
+<p>Determined all at any cost to prove</p>
+<p class="i2">The Ulster Parliament's a Cloak to Treason!</p>
+  </div>  </div>
+
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<hr class="pg" />
+<p>***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI, VOL. 105, NOVEMBER 11, 1893***</p>
+<p>******* This file should be named 39420-h.txt or 39420-h.zip *******</p>
+<p>This and all associated files of various formats will be found in:<br />
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+</html>
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+The Project Gutenberg eBook, Punch, or the London Charivari, Vol. 105,
+November 11, 1893, by Various, Edited by Sir F. C. Burnand
+
+
+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, November 11, 1893
+
+
+Author: Various
+
+Editor: Sir F. C. Burnand
+
+Release Date: April 10, 2012  [eBook #39420]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-646-US (US-ASCII)
+
+
+***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI,
+VOL. 105, NOVEMBER 11, 1893***
+
+
+E-text prepared by Malcolm Farmer, Lesley Halamek, and the Online
+Distributed Proofreading Team (http://www.pgdp.net)
+
+
+
+Note: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this
+      file which includes the original illustrations.
+      See 39420-h.htm or 39420-h.zip:
+      (http://www.gutenberg.org/files/39420/39420-h/39420-h.htm)
+      or
+      (http://www.gutenberg.org/files/39420/39420-h.zip)
+
+
+
+
+
+PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI
+
+VOL. 105
+
+NOVEMBER 11th 1893
+
+Edited by Sir Francis Burnand
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+[Illustration: POLICE PROTECTION FOR PIANISTS!!
+
+MADE NECESSARY BY THE ANTICS OF THE PADDED-ROOMSKI DEVOTEES AT ST.
+JAMES'S HALL, WHO RUSH AT, TRY TO EMBRACE, AND DECK WITH ROSES, A
+CERTAIN MASTER WHENEVER HE APPEARS.]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+A QUESTION OF TINT.
+
+["Who will paint London?"--_Daily News_.]
+
+  What a question to ask! If the colour be blue,
+  A batch of our London Minervas will do:
+  For each one will dye--the allusion is shocking--
+  Our town and its streets with the tint of her stocking.
+  Our pessimist frauds and the Ibsensite pack
+  Will groan as they thickly bedaub it in black.
+  Asiatic Sir EDWIN, the Poet of Light,
+  He will wipe out their work, and arrange it in white.
+  Then the Company-gulls will arrive on the scene,
+  And, _presto_, the colour of London is green.
+  And a rare crew of "Johnnies" will stay out of bed
+  Till the daylight appears, while they paint the town red.
+  In fact--and you'll thank me for giving the hint--
+  Painting London is merely a question of tint.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+MRS. R. cannot call to mind where the original picture of "_The
+Waterloo Blanket_" is to be seen.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+THE NOBLE ORGAN-GRINDER.
+
+["Lord BRASSEY never goes on a cruise, however short, without taking
+with him a very costly barrel-organ. He plays on it regularly for
+some time every evening, as he finds it a congenial form of exercise
+and amusement."--_The World._]
+
+  Grinder, when serenely grinding
+    On your yacht the Hundredth Psalm,
+  Tell me, are you truly finding
+    In this work congenial charm?
+
+  "Music hath" (an old quotation)
+    "Charms to soothe the savage breast,"
+  Think how you might lull some nation
+    Into dilettante rest.
+
+  GRINDER, gentle-hearted Grinder,
+    Try the savage who has spurned
+  Culture, for he might grow kinder,
+    Soothed by barrel deftly turned.
+
+  Matabele LOBENGULA
+    (Accent on penultimate)
+  Might be made by music, you'll a-
+    gree, a model potentate.
+
+  ORPHEUS like, you might so charm him
+    That a mere Mashona child's
+  Hand could easily disarm him
+    In those equatorial wilds.
+
+  He would cease to wear his skimpy
+    Kilts that leave his legs half bare,
+  He would soon disband his _impi_;
+    Culture then would be his care.
+
+  Suits of dittos clothe this whopper;
+    Patent leather boots be got;
+  You might lead him--"smash, my topper!"--
+    Even to a chimney-pot.
+
+  He would have a daily paper,
+    Standard authors sold in parts,
+  Shops of tailor, hatter, draper,
+    An Academy of Arts.
+
+  He would teach, by plays, the loyal
+    Folk on marsh or fertile plain,
+  Opening a Theatre Royal,
+    Where they've only Reeds and Grain.
+
+  And, till death made him a _Morgue_ 'un,
+    WAGNER, BRAHMS and GREIG no doubt
+  He would doat on--then your organ
+    Might be ruthlessly chucked out.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+THE CENTRAL HALL OF THE LAW COURTS.
+
+  O barristers' wigs from far and wide
+                  You gather anew!
+  The Strand, like meadow with daisies pied,
+                  Is dotted with you.
+
+  You crowd the courts, so stuffy, so small,
+                  So awkwardly placed;
+  You don't go into the Central Hall--
+                  Magnificent waste!
+
+  That thing of beauty was meant to be
+                  For ever a joy,
+  Just built to accommodate, as we see,
+                  One messenger boy.
+
+  Proud emblem he of the empire's might,
+                  That thus, for a whim,
+  Spent pounds in thousands with such delight
+                  Just to shelter him.
+
+  The courts are draughty, the courts are dark,
+                  The passages small,
+  And witness, client, solicitor, clerk,
+                  Are squeezed in them all.
+
+  Those lancet windows on winding stairs
+                  Don't help one to see;
+  A falling Commissioner even swears
+                  Without any fee.
+
+  Still though we stumble and though we're squeezed,
+                  We all recollect
+  That deserted Hall, and we're truly pleased
+                  With it's fine effect.
+
+  The vacant acre of paving there
+                  Should never annoy,
+  It has one occupant, we 're aware--
+                  That messenger boy.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+SONG OF THE AUTUMN SESSION.
+
+(BY A RELUCTANTLY RETURNED M.P.)
+
+AIR--"_O! that will be joyful!_"
+
+  HERE we suffer grief and pain,
+  Here we part to meet again:
+      No field, no copse, no moor!
+          O! it will be jawful,
+          Jawful, jawful, jawful!
+          O! isn't it awful?
+      Autumn Meet's an awful bore!
+
+  All who hate the "Lords," you know,
+  Swear this misery below,
+      We owe to peers above!
+          O! that, &c.
+
+  We'll be lammed by LABOUCHERE,
+  Who the Afric strife will swear
+      Is due to RHODES'S rule.
+          O! won't _he_ be jawful, &c.
+
+  ASHMEAD, too, will strive to prove
+  Freedom, prestige, all we love
+      We'll lose to gain no more,
+          Through GLADSTONE the jawful, &c.
+
+  O! how weary we shall be,
+  Ere the two Big Bills, or three,
+      Are passed and Peer-wards gone!
+          O! WEG will be jawful, &c.
+
+  Then the Rads will shout with joy,
+  And the short Recess employ,
+      In larrupping the Lords!
+          O! won't _they_ be jawful?--
+          Awful, awful, awful!
+          It shouldn't be lawful
+      Autumn Meets to summon more!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+THE WHIRLIGIG OF TIME.--WAT TYLER is avenged--upon wicked WALWORTH,
+and unfair history. A namesake of his is to be Lord Mayor of London!
+All we want now is, that the Right Hon. Mr. JOHN CADE (of Birmingham?)
+should be made Prime Minister.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+DR. DULCAMARA UP TO DATE; OR, WANTED A QUACK-QUELCHER.
+
+    ["_The jury, in giving their verdict, strongly censured the
+    gross ignorance of the accused, and regretted that there was
+    no law to prevent them from practising surgery._"]
+
+    [Illustration] _Mr. Punch sings, sotto voce:_--
+
+_Begone, Dulcamara_,
+  _I prythee begone from me!_
+_Begone, Dulcamara_,
+  _Thou and I will never agree!_
+
+  _AGREE?_ By all good powers, no! no more than oil and water!
+  For to the conscious humbug honest wrath should give no quarter;
+
+  And if _Punch's_ ready _baton_ lays its thwacks on any backs
+  With special zest, it is on those of charlatans and quacks.
+
+  Quack! Quack! Quack! Oh the pestilential pack!
+  If there is a loathsome chorus, it is Quack! Quack! Quack!
+
+  But the Quacks are having high old times in these peculiar days,
+  And gulls mistake their horrid din, 'twould seem, for pleasant lays.
+  We are quacked into distraction by unchastened power of Jaw,
+  Assisted by Advertisement and unrestrained by Law.
+  Dulcamara up to date is no longer poor or petty,
+  The pompous, brainless charlatan pictured by DONIZETTI,
+  He outshines, out-talks, out-thumps, out-cheats, out-swaggers, and
+          out-dresses,
+  With his nauseous, noxious nostrums, and his nasty, mucky messes.
+  Quack! Quack! Quack! He may quack the donkeys dead,
+  Their coin out of their purses and their eyes out of their head,
+  Their brains into sheer softening, their bodies to the grave,
+  But _he_ flourishes unpunished. Is there _nothing_ then to save
+  The noodles from his ignorance and knavery and bounce?
+  No law to lay him by the heels, no hangman's whip to trounce,
+  No pillory to gibbet the false fortune-piling pack
+  Who poison, maim, and madden with their Quack! Quack! Quack?
+
+  Dulcamara stands defiant, while his drum the live air fills
+  With praise of his appliances, his potions, and his pills.
+  With sham science for his shield, venal literature and art
+  For his touts and advertisers, he can bravely play his part.
+  The comic man will clown for him, if adequately paid,
+  And the poet and the painter puff his wares and push his trade.
+  He's proudly testimonialised; folly or purchased cunning
+  Crack up his nastiest nostrums, keep his worst deceptions running.
+  He will bleed you and blackmail you, if you're weak as well as
+          wealthy,
+  Impoverish _and_ drench you, aye, do aught--save leave you healthy.
+  For 'tis quack, quack, quack! and 'tis drum, drum, drum!
+  And Dulcamara--when not _worse_--is safe to prove a hum!
+
+  Quack! Quack! Quack! It is time that cry to quelch
+  By Law--or else to treat the quacks like sorry rogues who "welsh";
+  And if Dulcamara's really safe, until the Law they alter,
+  Why honest men must see to it, nor in their purpose falter
+  Till rascals of "gross ignorance," in foul gregarious pack,
+  Can no longer _safely_ victimise with quack, quack, quack!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration: THE LION AT HOME.
+
+_The Hope and Pride of the Family (just home from the Grand Tour)._
+"OH, REALLY, YOU KNOW, THE MEN ONE MEETS IN SOME OF THOSE PLACES OUT
+WEST! I SAID TO MYSELF EVERY NIGHT, 'WELL, THANK HEAVEN I HAVEN'T SHOT
+ANYBODY!'" _Fond and Nervous Mother._ "YOU MEAN, THANK HEAVEN NOBODY
+SHOT YOU, DON'T YOU, DEAR?"]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+A WORD TO THE WISE WHEELMAN.
+
+THE SPEAKER, at Warwick, said that "the bicyclists of the day are
+debilitating and degenerating the human race by the way in which they
+stoop over their work." The wheelmen would probably retort that, like
+GOLDSMITH'S sprightly heroine, they "stoop to conquer." And we are
+not yet _all_ wheelmen. Still, the SPEAKER has hit a blot in the
+contemporary Cyclomania. Few things are more unlovely than the
+"Bicyclist's Bend." Record-cutting would be purchased dearly at the
+cost of making men look like camels; and if success on the cinderpath
+or the road involved giving humanity at large "the hump," one would
+stigmatise the Cycle Race as the _In_human Race. Let us hope the
+SPEAKER'S sharp words will make our stooping cyclists "sit up"--in
+other than the slangy sense of the phrase.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Birds of Pray.
+
+  We're told a cormorant sits, and doth not tire,
+  For a whole month, perched upon Newark spire!
+  VINNY BOURNE'S jackdaw's beaten, it is clear.
+  Yet there _are_ cormorants who, year after year,
+  Perch in the Church. But these omnivorous people
+  Favour the pulpit mostly, not the steeple.
+  Thrivers upon fat livings find, no doubt,
+  Cormorant within is cosier than without.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+CREAM OF THE CREAM.--"London Society proper"--we are informed by Lady
+CHARLES BERESFORD--consists of no more than thirty or forty families!
+And how about London Society _improper_? Is _that_ equally sparse and
+exclusive? And--terrible thought!--crucial question!--is it possible
+that the two orders _overlap_ at all? That there are any "noble
+swells" who belong to both?
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+THE GOVERNMENT'S PUBLIC POLICY IN SOUTH AFRICA (ACCORDING TO MR.
+SYDNEY BUXTON).--_Not_ "CARRINGTON'S Entire"!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+UNDER THE ROSE.
+
+(_A Story in Scenes_).
+
+SCENE XIII.--_"Behind" at the Eldorado._ TIME--_about_ 10 P.M.; _the
+Stage at the back of the Scene-cloth is in partial darkness; in the
+centre, a pile of lumber and properties. Bare whitewashed brick walls;
+at one side, two canvas cabins for the Lady-Artistes to change their
+costumes; near them a deal table, with a jug and glasses. At one of
+the wings, behind the proscenium, a shelf and small mirror, at which
+the Comedians can arrange their make-up, and a frame, in which a
+placard, with each Artiste's number, is inserted before his or her
+entrance. A "turn" has just been concluded, and the Stage is clear._
+
+_The Stage-Manager_ (_bustling up to_ Footman, _in crimson plush
+breeches_). Now then, look alive, there, can't you, they're getting
+impatient in front. Why don't you change the number?
+
+_Footman_ (_with aggrieved dignity_). Because, Sir, Mr. ALF REDBEAK
+ought to come on, by rights, and, not 'aving chosen to appear yet, I
+think you'll see yourself, on reflection, as it would be totally----
+
+_Stage-M._ Well, don't argue about it; here's Miss LUSHBOY ready to go
+on, put _her_ number up!
+
+_Footm._ I always understood it was the regulation 'ere that no number
+was to be put up until the band-parts were passed into the orchestra;
+which Miss LUSHBOY'S music most certainly has not been handed in yet,
+and, that bein' so----
+
+_Stage-M._ You can spare a good yard off that tongue of yours, you
+can; put Miss LUSHBOY'S number up, and----Ah, here comes Mr. REDBEAK;
+never mind.
+
+_Enter_ Mr. REDBEAK, _breathless_.
+
+_Mr. Redbeak._ Phew! I've had a job to get 'ere in time, I can tell
+you. (_The Orchestra strikes up._) 'Ullo, _that_ ain't mine. (_To_
+Footman.) What are you about? Put up my number--sharp, now!
+
+_Miss Lushboy_ (_to_ Footman). Here, let me go on; I've been messing
+about long enough. What are you taking my number out for?
+
+_Footm._ Now, look 'ere, Miss, I can't please everybody! (_Indicating_
+Stage-Manager.) You are as well aware as what I am that it's for _him_
+to give the word 'ere, not me. I'm on'y actin' under what----
+
+_Mr. Redb._ It's crule, you know, that's what it is--crule. I've got
+to go right across London for my next turn, and----
+
+_The Stage-M._ (_returning_). What the blazes are we waiting for
+_now_? ALF, dear boy, you should come up to time. (_To_ Footman.) Why
+don't you do as you're told? You're getting too big for your boots, it
+strikes me! (_To_ Miss LUSHBOY.) There, go on, my dear, go on.
+
+    [Miss L. _bounds on to the stage, and begins her song_.
+
+_Mr. Redb._ (_to_ Footman). I've got a bone to pick with you, old
+feller. Don't you go wool-gatherin' to-night, as you did last. I've
+told you till I'm tired that when you see me chuck this
+property piecrust into the wings you've got to throw down these
+fire-irons--it's a safe laugh every time it comes off, and you know
+'ow important it is, and yet you forget it nine times out of ten!
+What's the good of me thinkin' out my business when you go and crab it
+for me?
+
+_Footm._ (_pathetically_). Mr. REDBEAK, Sir, you'll excuse me, but
+I'm on'y one man 'ere, I ain't a 'undred. _Don't_ thank 'eaven for
+it, Sir, it's 'ard when a man as tries to do his best, and with all my
+responsibilities on him----
+
+_Mr. Redb._ (_impatiently_). Oh, cheese it; you're not on a stool in
+'Ide Park, are you? I'm only _tellin'_ you.
+
+[Illustration: "It's like singing to a lot of 'ap'ny ices!"]
+
+_Miss L._ (_on stage, singing chorus_).
+
+  Say, boys, say, if you'd like to come. Who's for a merry old
+            "Tiddley-um?"
+    Fall in behind, and we'll all get "blind," before they close the
+            pub!
+  You're not jays, so you won't refuse. Join our band, for we're on
+            the booze,
+    And you'll see some larks with the rollicking sparks of the Rowdy
+            Razzle Club!
+
+(_Here she capers off, brandishing a gibus, and has a difficulty in
+opening the practicable door in the wing._ _To_ Footman.) There you
+are _again!_ How often am I to tell you to keep that wood open for my
+dance off? I break my fingers over it every blessed night, and lose my
+encore as well!
+
+_Footm._ I'm exceedingly sorry, miss, but the fact of the matter is my
+attention was took off at the time owing to----
+
+_Miss L._ Oh, hold _your_ jaw, do.
+
+_Footm._ (_to himself_). I'm to hold my jaw! Oh, these hartistes, they
+lead me a dorg's life among 'em!
+
+_Mr. Redb._ (_touching_ Miss L.'s _coat as she passes_). What's that
+badge you're wearing? Salvation Army, Temperance, Primrose League, or
+what?
+
+_Miss L._ No, only the colours of the Balls Pond Football Team;
+they presented them to me the other day. I told them _I_ didn't play
+football.
+
+_Mr. Redb._ You're pretty fair at the 'igh kick though, ain't you?
+There, there. 'Alf time. Goin' on again?
+
+_Miss L._ With a cold like mine? Not likely. Just look at my
+tongue! (_She protrudes the tip of an indigo-coloured tongue for his
+inspection._)
+
+_Mr. Redb._ (_concerned_). Why, it's like one o' those Chow-chow dogs,
+I'm blest if it isn't! You _are_ off colour to-night, no mistake!
+
+_Miss L._ Oh, that's the remedy, not the disease--liquorice, you know.
+
+_Stage-M._ Now, ALF, if you're in such a hurry, go on. Cut it as short
+as you like--no extra turns to-night.
+
+_Mr. Redb._ No fear. Oh dear, oh dear, such a rush as it is!
+
+    [_He goes on grumbling._
+
+_A Small Boy_ (_who has been sitting patiently on a chair by the
+wing--to_ Stage-Manager). If you please, Sir, will Mr. WILDFIRE want
+me to-night?
+
+_Miss L._ Want you, indeed, you silly kid! What would Mr. WILDFIRE
+want a shrimp like you for?
+
+_The Boy._ If he's going to do the Sandwich Man 'ere to-night, he'll
+want me, _I_ know. Why, it all _depends_ on me, that song does. (_To_
+Stage-M.) _Is_ he going to do the Sandwich Man to-night, Sir?
+
+_Stage-M._ Oh, don't bother me; wait till he comes and you'll find
+out. (_To_ Miss L.) I suppose you've heard he's talking of not
+renewing his engagement after to-night--giving up the halls
+altogether!
+
+_Miss L._ And no great loss either! I don't see anything particular
+about his songs myself. As for all that gas about his raising the tone
+of the halls, it's sickening. Anyone would suppose we _lowered_ it!
+
+_Miss Cissie Cinders (coming out of a dressing-cabin, in a battered
+old velvet hat and broken feathers, with her face smudged)._ Who's
+that you're talking about? WILDFIRE? Ah, my dear, this 'Igh Art and
+Littery rot'll be the ruin of the 'alls--him and his articles in
+the swell magazines, praising us all up--he can keep his praises to
+himself--_I_ don't want 'em! I've never set up to refine the public
+myself, or else I could fake it easy enough!
+
+    [_She passes on to stage._
+
+_Mr. Gus. Tadman_ (_Variety Vocalist_). We could all do it, come to
+that. But there, he won't last, you'll see. Why, look at the 'it I
+made with my "_Rorty Naughty Nell_"! That _was_ a good song if you
+like, and well-written, mind yer. But lor, it's clean forgotten now.
+I 'ear WILDFIRE'S bringing out a play to-night at the Hilarity, it'll
+serve him right if it gets the bird, going back on his own profession
+like that! (_To_ Miss CINDERS, _who has just sung_.) House cold
+to-night?
+
+_Miss Cinders_ (_in a temper_). Cold, it's like singing to a lot
+of 'ap'ny ices! I used to have the choruses all sung for me when I
+brought out that song first; and now they've let me go off without a
+'and! We shall see whether they'll rise to WILDFIRE to-night. Ah, here
+he is. Actually coming up to speak to us; there's an honour!
+
+_Miss Betsy Beno_ (_to_ WILDFIRE, _as he passes the table where she is
+sitting waiting for her turn_). 'Ere, WATTY, old man, stop and 'ave
+a drop along of me. Do--there's plenty 'ere! (_as_ WILDFIRE _excuses
+himself laughingly_). Well, I'm sure--refusing to drink when a lady
+goes out of her way to ask him--he hasn't the manners of a pig! And I
+draw my sixty quid a week the same as he does!
+
+_Mr. Tadman._ Well, dear boy, how's the play getting on? Not a frost,
+I hope?
+
+_Wildfire._ No; I just looked in on my way from the Val. here, and
+they seemed to think it was all right; but I couldn't stay till the
+finish. They're going to send round and let me know. (_To the_ Small
+Boy, _who has approached anxiously_.) Oh, there you are, youngster!
+Yes, I shall want you--for the last time, you know.
+
+_The Boy._ Why, you--you ain't going to take the part away from me,
+Sir, when I created it, too!
+
+_Wildf._ (_patting his shoulder kindly_). I'm giving up singing
+altogether--that's why. Never mind; I'll see it makes no difference to
+you, so don't you distress yourself. We'll find you something or other
+to do.
+
+_The Boy_ (_with a gulp_). If I ain't going to be with _you_ any
+more, I--I don't care _what_ 'appens, Sir. I'd as soon throw up the
+perfession myself, I would!
+
+    [_He turns away into a dark corner._
+
+_Wildf._ (_to himself, as he goes to the wing_). Nice boy that; didn't
+think he'd care so much; must keep an eye on him. _Flattery_ must
+be over now. I wish I could have stayed to see it out; it was going
+magnificently; but there were some rather risky scenes ahead. Still, I
+believe it's a success; and, if it is, I shall have done with all this
+for ever after to-night. I can go to ALTHEA and tell her, without----
+By Jove! wasn't it to-night that Old TOOVEY was to be in front? I
+wonder what he'll think of it. (_He looks at himself in the mirror._)
+He'll have some difficulty in recognising me in this get up. Well, I
+shall know on Monday. (_He goes on, and sings; then rushes back to the
+wing to change his costume, with the assistance of his dresser._) Yes,
+the coat, now, dresser, please. (_To himself, as he paints some lines
+on his face._) I couldn't see anyone at all like old TOOVEY. Very odd!
+They must have sent him the box, I suppose. Well, it doesn't
+matter; if he didn't think it necessary to come, so much the better.
+(_Aloud._) Wigpaste, please. Now the boards. All right--I'm ready.
+(_To the Boy._) Now, youngster, look out for your cue.
+
+    [_He goes on._
+
+_The Limelight Man_ (_up in the flies--to himself_). What's wrong with
+Mr. WILDFIRE? He as nearly broke down just now as----and I can't keep
+the limelight on him nohow to-night! He can't have been drinking--he
+ain't _that_ sort. But he do look bad--it's as much as ever he can do
+to go through with it; somethink's given him a turn.
+
+_Wildfire_ (_to himself, as he goes back to the wing, unsteadily_).
+She's here--and, what's worse, she's recognised me! She must have, or
+she would never have looked like that. If I could only have told her
+first; but, to discover it like this,--she'll think I meant to----
+(_He pitches away his boards in a fury._) Well, I've done for
+myself--it's all over! (_To his dresser._) A note, eh?
+
+[_He opens it, and reads the contents mechanically_; Mr. TADMAN
+_and one or two other artistes come up with curiosity on seeing his
+expression_.
+
+_Tadm._ Why, WILDFIRE, old man, what's this? Play gone wrong? Never
+mind, dear boy, we can't have everything. But what's the report, eh?
+
+_Wildf._ (_impatiently_). Oh, I don't know. What does it matter now?
+(_He lets the note fall._) There, you can read it if you want to know.
+
+    [_He walks away._
+
+_Tadm._ (_with complacency_). Poor chap, he's hard hit! But I could
+have told him it wasn't to be expected that---- (_He picks up the
+note, and reads it with a falling jaw._) Hullo! What's the meaning of
+this? It says the piece is a tremendous go--safe for a long run--had
+to raise the rag again and again. Why, he'll make his fortune over
+this alone; and yet, look at him! (_Pointing to_ WILDFIRE, _who has
+seated himself on the pile of lumber, in utter dejection_.) And all
+those fools in front clapping and stamping for him to come on again.
+What _more_ does the feller want, I wonder!
+
+END OF SCENE XIII.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+UNION IS (LOGICAL) WEAKNESS.--The Congregational Union lays it down as
+a law, "that the rights of humanity must take precedence of those
+of property." We fear this admirable maxim (like equally admirable
+Charity) might be made to cover a multitude of sins, from petty
+larceny to anarchism. Would it be consonant with the "rights of
+humanity," for, say, a Congregational Unionist to object to a poor
+tramp stealing his best umbrella on a wet day?
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+ROBERT ON THE COMING SHO.
+
+WELL, here we are just about gitting to the bend of our Citty Year,
+when we changes our raining Sovverain, altho he is but twelve munse
+old, and takes on a new one, for better or wuss as the case may
+be, and in this case I most suttenly thinks that it would be werry
+differcult indeed to change for a better, for it tisn't not only me
+and all my tribe, as _Shylock_ calls us, but all the many hundreds,
+if not thowsends, as has had a share of the Rite Honnerabel the LORD
+MARE'S noble ospitality, must all agree that a more liberaller, or
+hospitaler, or hopen artider Gent never entered the honored Manshun
+House than him who to ewerybody's regret is a going next week for to
+leave it!
+
+[Illustration]
+
+Why, I ardly expecs to be beleeved when I says as we have sumtimes had
+as many as three or fore grand Bankwets in one week, and the LORD MARE
+woud get up as usual the nex morning as if he thort nothink of it!
+No more he did, no not ewen when the King of DENMARK himself came
+and dined with him at Gildall, and explained to him all about the
+unfortnet death of _Prince Hamlet!_
+
+I do hear as we are to have such a Lord Mare's Sho as we ain't offen
+had, including, above all things that nobody coudn't have emagined,
+nothink less than a reel copy of the grand New Tower Bridge, and if
+that won't be a site for the estonished Multitood praps somebody will
+kindly tell me what woud be.
+
+There was a tork of asking all the Roossian Sailors, who has been a
+having sitch a jolly time of it in France, to run over and jine the
+Sho first and the Bankwet arterwards, but it was werry doutful whether
+ewen all the Haldermen, much less all the Common Counselmen, coud
+have chatted away with them in their own native tung, so the idear was
+given up in favour of Fire engines and Fire men.
+
+I've seen a goodish many Lord Mare's Shos in my time, and hopes to see
+a few more, in spite of the gellous growls of another body of gents
+as shall be nameless, but it woud suttenly be a grand joke to see the
+gellous body elluded to coming out in a London County show of their
+own, amid the skoffs and jiers and larfter of the emused Metrolopus!
+
+  ROBERT.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+THE "OBERLAND" ROUTE.
+
+    ["A scheme for making a waterway between Switerland and the
+    Adriatic is to be submitted to the Federal Government at no
+    very distant date."--_Westminster Gazette._]
+
+
+_British Minister, Bern, to Lord Rosebery, London._--A MR. JONES, who
+says he's a British subject, went up Pilatus to get view. Didn't
+get it. Also complains of overcharge for candles at his hotel. Have
+demanded immediate satisfaction from Swiss Government. Please send
+Mediterranean Squadron to Locarno.
+
+_Lord Rosebery, London, to British Minister, Bern._--Can't spare
+the Squadron. Won't a gunboat do? You may speak strongly to Swiss
+Government. Tell them insult to JONES is insult to England. Meanwhile,
+wire best route for fleet to get up to Bern, if necessary. Don't see
+it on map.
+
+_Brit. Min., B., to Lord R._--Owing to Mediterranean Squadron
+not having appeared at Locarno, Swiss Government very aggressive.
+Passenger steamers on Lakes of Geneva, Thun, and Lucerne being
+converted into a fleet. Special new _corps d'armee_ formed from
+Chamounix guides and patriotic hotel waiters. Man (whose name was
+ROBINSON) mistaken for JONES, and mobbed in streets last night. Some
+kind of Naval Demonstration absolutely necessary. Put ships on rail at
+Locarno, send 'em through Gothard Tunnel, and there you are!
+
+_Lord R. to Brit. Min., B._--British Government recognises gravity of
+the JONES incident. What do you advise? Aren't the Alps in the way?
+
+_Brit. Min., B., to Lord R._--Didn't like to suggest details. Send
+ironclads. Ram something. Why not bombard Alps. Gunboat moored at
+Devil's Bridge might shell Andermatt. Leave it to you.
+
+_Lord R. to Brit. Min., B._--Sorry to say, European complications have
+now arisen from JONES incident. Swiss Government has offered its fleet
+to Russia and France. Triple Alliance tottering. Can't you get Swiss
+Government to apologise to JONES, and end business?
+
+_Brit. Min. to Lord R._--Business _is_ ended. JONES not a British
+subject after all, but a Swede, who's travelled in America! Recall
+gunboat.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration: THE SPREAD OF CULTURE DOWNWARDS.
+
+"ULLO, MARY, WHAT'S THIS? NAME OF THE 'OUSE?" "NO, MR. IGNORANCE; IT'S
+A LATIN WORD, AND MEANS 'PLEASE TO WIPE YOUR FEET!'"]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"RESH'PROSH'TY."
+
+    ["What struck the TZAR ... in the recent festivities, was
+    the feeling of fraternity which seemed to pervade the
+    multitude.... The feeling of concord and fraternity appears
+    to survive the last echoes of the festivities.... The word
+    now most frequently heard is 'Amnesty.' This, indeed, is the
+    fittest coping-stone to prolonged festivities characterised by
+    universal concord."--_Times' Paris Correspondent._]
+
+  _President._ "Prolonged feshtivitish!" Thash good, that ish!
+          _Very_ prolonged, ole f'ler, an' _awf'ly_ feshtive!
+  _Tzar._ Yeah, tha' what shtruck _me!_ (_Aside._) But I really wish
+          He wouldn't gush. ROMANOFF pride turns reshtive!
+  _President._ _Sho_ glad it shtruck you sho! An' nurrer thing
+          You _mush_ ha' notish'd. Feeling of fraternity
+        All over shop! I shay, may friendship's wing
+          Ne'er moult a feather, not to all eternity.
+  _Tzar._ I echosh tha' fine Shwiveller shentiment
+          Entirely! (_Aside._) I must not appear too sober.
+  _President._ Now Fransh ish shatishfied--an' world content!
+          Republic won't forget thish last October!
+        Feelingsh of concord, cetra, _will_ survive
+          Last echosh of feshtivitish--for ever!
+  _Tzar._ Oh, coursh! Asshure you I am quite alive
+          To reshiproshity--shan't forget it--never!
+  _President._ Thash ri' ole f'ler! _Our_ resh--hic!--proshity--
+          Not like the comic Yankee's, all one shide?
+  _Tzar._ Certainly not! Shorry to say good-bye!
+          But though our bodiesh part, our soulsh are tied.
+  _President._ Precishly! We're _both_ tight--mean tied--in knotsh.
+          The champagne, an' the speeches, an' the kisshes
+        Have bound our bosomsh, and combined our lotsh!
+  _Tzar._ Quite sho! (_Aside._) I'll watch a chance to hint my wishes.
+  _President._ We've had a jolly time, and now, ole f'ler,
+          Ash "coping-shtone" to all this talk and toddy,
+        As shequel to thish patr'otic stir,
+          I'm going to amneshty--yesh, _everybody!_
+        Wha' shay, dear ROMANOFF, will you do same?
+          Jush show, y' know, that thersh no animoshity!
+  _Tzar_ (_aside_). Oh, _that_ is the Republic's little game?
+          Russia can't stand _that_ form of reciprocity!
+        (_Aloud._) All ri', ole f'ler, you jush leave that to _Me!_
+          Mosh noble notion, that shame "coping-shtone!"
+        By way, ole f'ler, talking of amneshty--
+          _Could you just 'blige me with a trifling Loan?_
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+THE PROFESSION OF--JOURNALISM.
+
+(_An Entirely Imaginary Letter._)
+
+Dear MR. B-CH-N-N,--Our famous Third Page rather dull lately. Couldn't
+you enliven it up by one of your characteristic letters--say on "The
+Profession of Literature"? Say all the old things about its degrading
+effect on those who follow it, including yourself--the public loves
+to see a vivisection in public--and be sure to spice it well
+with distinguished names, such as SW-NB-RN-, R-SS-TT-, etc. Any
+depreciatory anecdotes would be very telling, and serve to evoke
+indignant _free_ replies from those who wouldn't guess they were
+jumping to a prepared bait. I shall count on you for a column.
+
+  Yours faithfully,
+
+  THE EDITOR OF THE ----.
+
+P.S.--Of course you will be insulted at the usual rate.--ED.
+
+    [_Result--the usual one on the famous Third Page._
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Mot by a Member.
+
+(_During the Debate on the Second Reading of the Parish Councils
+Bill._)
+
+  FOWLER was longish, LONG was even longer,
+  MORE was much less so, STANHOPE little stronger;
+  But HENEAGE even when brief's sublime
+  He's not for Hene-age, but for all (our) time!
+  What a relief after such thrice-skimmed milk
+  To get truth's cream from ROLLIT and from DILKE!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+THE LATEST "GLASS OF FASHION."--The dress fashioned of spun-glass, as
+a royal robe for the Princess EULALIA of Spain, and exhibited at the
+Chicago World's Fair.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration: "RESH'PROSH'TY."
+
+M. CARNOT. "WELL, OLE F'LER, WE'VE ALL HAD JOLLY GOOD TIME--AN' I'M
+GOING T' AMNESTY EV'RYB'Y!! YOU--DO--SAME!!"
+
+TZAR. "LEAVE THAT T' ME. BY TH' WAY--COULD YOU 'BLIGE ME--TRIFLIN'
+LOAN?"]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"BUT THAT'S ANOTHER STORY."
+
+(_Rudyard Kipling passim._)
+
+  TOM'S uncle by his will
+    Left TOM in greatest glory.
+  There _was_ a codicil--
+    "But that's another story."
+
+  PHIL wooed a fair one, KATE;
+    She met him _con amore_.
+  The damages were great--
+    "But that's another story."
+
+  HUGH'S rent (for an address!)
+    Was far and wide _in ore_.
+  His suite now costs him less--
+    "But that's another _story_."
+
+  Of readers not a few
+    Deem RIDER HAGGARD gory.
+  We have MACBETH, it's true--
+    "But that's another story."
+
+  One JOSEPH was enrolled--
+    Though now a sort of Tory--
+  A Williamite of old--
+    "But that's another story."
+
+  Some maids would make it known
+    They'll wait till locks are hoary,
+  But wed for love alone--
+    "B u t  t h a t 's another 'story.'"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+IN BLACK AND WHITE.
+
+(_A Modern Glove Romance._)
+
+  THAT pair of gloves you wore when first we met
+      Were what you called, I think, a "pair of loves."
+  You won them from your cousin on a bet--
+        That pair of gloves.
+
+  Now as to colour, this or that shade proves
+      A shade expensive, runs you into debt.
+  Tan's universal, while a tint of dove's
+      Particularly nice for evening. Yet
+  Black with white stitching most my fancy moves,
+      And such were yours. I never can forget
+        That pair of gloves.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration: TOO COSTLY.
+
+_The Vicar._ "DEAR, DEAR, MRS. PRICKLES, I REGRET TO HEAR THAT MRS.
+BROWN HAS TREATED YOU SO SHAMEFULLY. I SHOULD COUNSEL YOU TO HEAP
+COALS OF FIRE ON HER HEAD----"
+
+_Mrs. P._ "AH, SIR--THAT'S WOT I _WOULD_ DO, AS SOON AS LOOK AT 'ER:
+BUT I CAN'T AFFORD IT AT ONE-AN'-NINEPENCE A 'UNDERDWEIGHT!"]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+RHODES TO ----?
+
+  SIR HENRY LOCH may hold the key
+  In Africa, but all must see
+  That RHODES the handle hath fast grip on,
+  Shouts "Let her rip!"--despite Lord RIPON.
+  Cut is poor LOBENGULA'S comb,
+  'Tis said that all roads lead to Rome.
+  The new Ring that old saw explodes;
+  Where'er we roam we're led to--RHODES.
+  Whether or no this Great Panjandrum
+  (Who handles well the pen, sword, _and_ drum)
+  Is the true friend of Civilisation,
+  And puts her laws in operation;
+  At least he can maintain with pride,
+  He has her Maxims on his side.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+FABIUS FIN-DE-SIECLE.
+
+    [The Fabian Society, in the _Fortnightly Review_, has
+    "launched a manifesto, which proposes that the Government
+    shall be attacked by extreme Radicals because it has only met
+    them half way."]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+  STRANGE that a "Fabian policy," up-to-date,
+  Should be so obviously _not_ to wait!
+  Sure the Society's name is chosen ill!
+  RUPERT the title-role might fitlier fill.
+  The Fabian Manifesto frightens no man;
+  But just conceive the great, but cautious, Roman
+  Heading a restive, Radical "Ugly Rush"!
+  Though Patience suffers in the Modern Crush,
+  Perchance the Socialistic perorator
+  Might learn a lesson from the great Cunctator!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+THE CABMAN'S GUIDE TO POLITENESS.--No. II.
+
+_Question._ I think when you are out of temper, and have been asked
+by a Fare, who appears to know more (or less) about distances than you
+do, to stop, you pretend not to hear him?
+
+_Answer._ Yes; and I continue not to hear him until a policeman pulls
+me up.
+
+_Q._ Quite so; and then you have a way of giving a jerk while your
+Fare is getting in which either covers a lady's dress with mud, or all
+but breaks the leg of a gentleman?
+
+_A._ Well, I have known such things to happen.
+
+_Q._ And when you reach your destination, you carefully forget the
+number of the street or square, and are equally hard of hearing if
+your Fare attempts to direct you?
+
+_A._ You have hit it, especially if it's raining.
+
+_Q._ Of course. And when you get your money, you sneer and drive away,
+as if you were disgusted?
+
+_A._ Yes. And as I go off I make as much splash as I can, in the hope
+of my late fare getting a dose of the mud.
+
+_Q._ Exactly. Now, don't you think it would be better to come up
+cheerfully, drive carefully, and when you receive your money, observe,
+"Well, Sir (or Madam), I know I have no right to more, but times are
+hard, and if you would spare an extra sixpence, I should consider it a
+real kindness?" Would not that mode be better than the other? Would it
+not be more profitable?
+
+_A._ It might, but I can't say, as I have never tried it.
+
+_Q._ Again, what is your method of obtaining what you consider to be
+your rights from a mother with two boxes and four small children?
+
+_A._ Why I generally swear at the kids and sit on the boxes until I am
+paid what I ask, or get sent to the right-abouts by a policeman.
+
+_Q._ No doubt; yet such a course seems both barbarous and
+inconvenient. Could you not improve upon it?
+
+_A._ Not I. It is the right thing to do, and that is why I do it.
+
+_Q._ And yet would it not be as easy for you to help the boxes
+down yourself, and then to make friends with the mother through her
+children? Could you not observe, "Bless their hearts, they are fine
+lads, or young ladies (as the case might be), and you should be proud
+of them, mum?"
+
+_A._ Yes, I might say that, but I don't think the mother would come
+down with the cash any quicker on account of it.
+
+_Q._ But supposing, when you were offered less than you thought due
+to you, could you not observe, "I have children of my own, mum, and
+if you could spare a couple of shillings (or half-a-crown, or what you
+thought right) more, it would be a real kindness, and give my children
+something more than bread and water for dinner?" Could you not say
+that?
+
+_A._ I might, but I won't.
+
+_Q._ But surely it would be pleasanter for you to be amiable and
+courteous instead of a bully and a brute? And would it not be easier,
+too?
+
+_A._ Try for yourself. Just you drive a cab for a dozen hours in all
+weathers, and then you will learn what chances you have of feeling
+light-hearted and polite!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+PREPARING FOR CHRISTMAS.
+
+(_A Yule-tide Story told in Advance._)
+
+Yes, SCROOGE was an altered man! He was genial and amiable, and
+altogether an estimable being. SCROOGE'S nephew was delighted with the
+change. He could scarcely believe his ears and eyes.
+
+"And don't you really interfere with the theatres, Sir?" asked
+SCROOGE'S nephew. "At one time you were always telling them to take
+down this, and put up that, and making the lives of the managers
+burdens to them. Don't you interfere any longer?"
+
+"Of course not, my lad," replied SCROOGE, heartily. "Why should
+I? This is the pleasantest world imaginable, and it would be less
+charming without its playhouses."
+
+"Right you are, Sir," returned SCROOGE'S nephew; "but I suppose you
+look in occasionally at the halls to supervise the entertainments?"
+
+"I look in to enjoy them, my boy!" cried SCROOGE, with a ringing
+laugh, that could be heard for furlongs. "What do they want with _my_
+supervision?"
+
+"I am sure I don't know, uncle; but I thought it was a way you had.
+And then you are going to strip the hoardings of the posters, aren't
+you?"
+
+"I strip the hoardings of the posters! Why should I? The hoardings
+look a precious sight better covered with pictures than left to dirt
+and decay. I interfere with the hoardings! I never heard of such a
+thing! What put _that_ into your head?"
+
+"Well, it used to be an old way of yours," returned SCROOGE'S nephew.
+"Why, uncle, don't you remember? You used to be interfering with
+and ordering about everything. Taking up the road and closing the
+thoroughfare. Bothering the costermongers and the retail shopkeepers
+and the small householders. In fact, making yourself a general
+nuisance in all directions. Why, uncle, you have entirely changed your
+nature!"
+
+"Not at all," said SCROOGE. "I am not changed, but my office is. Do
+you not know that I have ceased to be a member of the London County
+Council?"
+
+"No, this is the first time I have heard of it! Why, that accounts
+for everything! It explains why you are a pleasant, good-natured
+old gentleman in lieu of a curmudgeon and a brute. It explains
+everything."
+
+And it did!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration: MISUNDERSTOOD.
+
+_Noble Philanthropist._ "THAT PARCEL SEEMS RATHER HEAVY FOR YOU, MY
+LITTLE MAN! LET ME TAKE IT!"
+
+_Small boy._ "LET YER TYKE MY PARCEL! GARN WITH YER. I'LL CALL THE
+PERLICE!"]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+NAME! NAME!--No name has been announced for the new daily paper
+projected by Mr. STEAD. In view of the plan frankly set forth in the
+prospectus, whereby one hundred thousand persons are to subscribe the
+capital, and if the venture proves a success the enterprising editor
+is to have the option of acquiring the property, a suitable title
+would be, _Heads-I-Win-Tails-You-Lose_. It is a little long, perhaps;
+but it precisely describes the relative positions, and you can't--at
+least some people can't--have everything.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+DRAMATIC RECIPE (FROM THE QUEEN'S COOKERY BOOK).--First catch your
+HARE.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+THE DARK CONTINENT IN TWO LIGHTS.
+
+    SCENE--_A conquered country._ TIME--_The Past. Conquerors
+    (colonists) panting after their hard work in defeating the
+    natives. Enter an_ Official. _The remaining members of the
+    Colonial Band sing the National Anthem._
+
+_Official._ I congratulate you upon your success. The more especially
+as you have gained it without the assistance of the Imperial power.
+(_The Colonists indulge in feeble cheers._) But now my turn has
+arrived. In the name of the SOVEREIGN I claim this land for England!
+
+    [_Plants the British Flag. Curtain._
+
+    SCENE--_As before._ TIME--_The Present. Conquerors (colonists)
+    smoking after the pleasant toil of mowing down the natives.
+    Enter an_ Official. _The Colonial Band (in its entirety) takes
+    no notice_.
+
+_Official._ I congratulate you upon your success. The more especially
+as you have gained it without the assistance of the Imperial power.
+(_The Colonists indulge in roars of laughter._) But now my turn has
+arrived. In the name of the SOVEREIGN I claim this land for England!
+
+_Colonists._ No you don't! Be off! We can get on without you!
+
+    [_Turns Official and his Flag out of the Country. Curtain._
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+ARGENTINA.
+
+    [It is stated that JABEZ S. BALFOUR is living "in a perfect
+    fairy-land."]
+
+  I Dreamt that I dwelt in marble halls,
+    With orchids on every side,
+  A very long way from Old Bailey's walls,
+    Where NEWTON and HOBBS were tried.
+  I had riches too great to count; could boast
+    Of JABEZ, an elegant name;
+  And I also dreamt, which charmed me most,
+    Argentina loved me the same.
+
+  I dreamt that my country let me go,
+    In an indolent sort of way,
+  For Scotland Yard did not seem to know
+    It would "want" me another day.
+  So they carefully closed the stable-door,
+    When I'd fled beyond reach of blame;
+  And I also dreamt, which charmed me more,
+    Argentina loved me the same.
+
+  I dreamt that detectives sought my hand,
+    But their warrants I could not see.
+  So their vows my swindler's heart could withstand,
+    Though they pledged their faith to me.
+  Buenos Ayres' bold, brazen face,
+    Never glows with the blush of shame;
+  Though I should be lynched in a decent place,
+    Argentina loves me the same.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+A GREAT FIELD FOR HUMORISTS ANNUALLY.--"_Wit acres'_ Almanack."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+ESSENCE OF PARLIAMENT.
+
+EXTRACTED FROM THE DIARY OF TOBY, M. P.
+
+_House of Commons, Thursday, November_ 2.--Began work again to-day as
+if nothing had happened from February to September. Understood to
+have had a recess; so short hardly worth mentioning. Considering all
+circumstances, attendance marvellously large. MARJORIBANKS got his men
+together as usual, crowding benches on Ministerial side. Opposition
+not in quite such a hurry to wash their spears; but muster creditable.
+Irish camp deserted. "You see," said JUSTIN MCCARTHY, "it isn't our
+funeral. But the bhoys are hanging round and will turn up if wanted."
+
+HENRY FOWLER moved Second Reading Parish Councils Bill. Adroit and
+able speech; rather hard on WALTER LONG; to him deputed position of
+spokesman on Front Opposition bench. Brought down notes of convincing
+speech. FOWLER getting in first anticipated all his objections;
+met them with benevolent alacrity that disarmed hostility. What did
+statesmen opposite want? Anything in reason should be conceded. "Give
+your orders, gents, whilst the waiter's in the room."
+
+[Illustration: PARLIAMENT BY
+PROXY.]
+
+This an admirable stroke of business, but a little depressing from
+spectacular point of view. No more pyrotechnics; no further meetings
+on the floor; no more grips at close quarters. HAYES FISHER looked on
+moodily; LOGAN passed Front Opposition bench without once so much as
+looking at place where CARSON is accustomed meekly to repose.
+Respectable elderly gentlemen like FRANCIS POWELL and JEFFREYS took
+the floor. Even contumacious COBB admitted soothing influence of the
+hour. Didn't want anything more than that Parish Councils should have
+power to take land wherever they found it, and divide it amongst the
+poor. As everybody agreed Bill in the main desirable, and since FOWLER
+had promised fullest consideration of amendments in Committee, seemed
+natural thing to do was forthwith to read Bill second time, and fix
+date of Committee.
+
+[Illustration: Parish Councils.]
+
+"No, Sir," said STANLEY LEIGHTON, "I trust the House of Commons is
+not yet sunk so low as that. Confess I myself feel depressed. Couldn't
+to-night adequately fill my favourite and popular part of The Man
+from Shropshire. At least I'll deliver House from disgrace of bringing
+debate to a close for the puerile reason that we're all agreed Second
+Reading shall be taken."
+
+So he wandered on; was just warming into Man-from-Shropshire manner,
+when midnight sounded and Debate stood adjourned.
+
+_Business done._--Second Reading Parish Councils Bill moved.
+
+_Friday._--For middle-aged gentleman of long experience never saw man
+so discomposed as JESSE COLLINGS was just now, when he let cat out of
+bag about future arrangements of the Unionists personal to himself.
+What is to be done with the Faithful One when JOSEPH comes into his
+own is favourite speculation in smoke-room. SAGE OF QUEEN ANNE'S GATE
+takes special interest in matter. Most men think JESSE should have
+Cabinet rank in Coalition Ministry.
+
+"No," says the SAGE, "he should be a Viceroy, either of India or
+Canada. Cut out for the place; and there would be no question of
+salary, such as, seven years ago, embittered his relations with Mr.
+G."
+
+All these conjectures beside the point. Matter has, apparently, been
+settled in inner councils of party, and to-night JESSE accidentally,
+inadvertently, lifted the veil. "I have," he said, in course of
+luminous speech prefaced by addressing the SPEAKER as "Mr. Mayor,"
+"something to say on that subject, but I will reserve my remarks for
+another place." House not very full at moment. But everyone knows
+meaning of House of Commons phrase "another place." Sensation
+profound. Bordesley soon to be bereft, for JESSE COLLINGS is going to
+the Lords! HENRY MATTHEWS, a local authority on the subject, says even
+title been fixed upon. Nothing less than territorial style will do
+for the ex-Mayor and Radical Alderman. Soon the Upper House will greet
+Lord BORDESLEY of Birmingham.
+
+Quiet night, with further talk round Parish Councils Bill. Mr. G.
+present, seated between SQUIRE OF MALWOOD and JOHN MORLEY. Singularly
+subdued in manner; takes no part in discussion; goes off to dinner in
+good time, and House sees him no more.
+
+"And to think," said the SQUIRE, glancing sideways at the placid
+figure beside him, "that this is the man painted in red and blue by
+Unionist pavement-artists. Their stories of Mr. G. always remind me
+of a passage in a theme produced by a young gentleman invited to state
+what he knew of Cardinal WOLSEY.
+
+    "'In the siege of Quebec,' he wrote, 'he ascended the
+    mountains at dead of night, when his enemies were at rest, and
+    took the town at daybreak. His home policy was conducted in a
+    similar manner.'
+
+"There is about that a picturesque air of circumstantiality, combined
+with a fanciful inaccuracy, equalled only by things one reads or hears
+with reference to my right hon. friend, and revered leader."
+
+[Illustration: Ireland takes a back seat. Sir William on the Premier's
+right again.]
+
+_Business done._--Some papers on Parish Councils read.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Double Entente.
+
+  The TZAR, on peace and friendship all intent,
+  To France his Admiral AVELLAN has sent.
+  'Twere pity if this Russian olive-branch
+  Portended merely General AVALANCHE.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Mrs. R. is astonished to hear that "Count TAAFFE, the Austrian
+Premier, is an Irishman and a Member of the British House of Lords."
+She says she is sure she has heard that "TAAFFE was a Welshman, TAAFFE
+was a ----," but she must have been misinformed!!!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+A STRIKE-ING SUGGESTION.--The PITT-coalition was a brilliant idea in
+its day. A coalition between masters and miners--a Pit-coal-ition, in
+fact--would solve the strike difficulty.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+THE FRENCH FLAG.
+
+AN AMICABLE APPEAL.
+
+  The Arab dhow to the chase is gone,
+    Chock-full of slaves you'll discover it;
+  And the British cruiser is artfully done
+    By the French Flag flying over it!
+  "Flag of France!" cries the British Tar,
+    "The Arab hound betrays thee.
+  Give him his due, at Zanzibar,
+    And all the world shall praise thee!"
+
+  The captain and crew by the Franks were tried,
+    And _escaped_--to the wide world's wonder!
+  Oh glorious Flag! Is it then its pride
+    That the slavers hide thereunder?
+  Let France disdain to sully thee,
+    With the curst kidnapper's knavery!
+  Thy folds should float o'er the brave and free,
+    And _never_ protect foul Slavery!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Misnomer.
+
+  "FEDERATION" seems aggravation,
+    Conciliation's dead!
+  While fights the "Miners' Federation,"
+    The Miners are _un_fed!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+THE LATEST AUTUMN FASHIONS.--Parliamentary Sessions and Feather
+Trimmings. Both involving cruelty to bipeds "on the wing," and each
+"more honoured in the breach than the observance."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+An Ulsterical Impromptu.
+
+(_By an Orange-hating Nationalist._)
+
+  In Parliament assembled see them move
+    Their resolutions lacking rhyme and reason,
+  Determined all at any cost to prove
+    The Ulster Parliament's a Cloak to Treason!
+
+
+
+***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI, VOL.
+105, NOVEMBER 11, 1893***
+
+
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