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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, Volume 107, July 21st 1894 + +Author: Various + +Release Date: May 23, 2012 [EBook #39770] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PUNCH *** + + + + +Produced by Punch, or the London Charivari, Malcolm Farmer, +Ernest Schaal and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team +at http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + +</pre> + + +<h1>PUNCH,<br /> +OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.</h1> + +<h2>Vol. 107.</h2> + +<hr class="full" /> + +<h2>JUNE 21, 1894.</h2> + +<hr class="full" /> + +<p class="indent"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page025" id="page025"></a>[pg 025]</span></p> + +<h2>A RIVERSIDE LAMENT.</h2> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>In my garden, where the rose</p> +<p>By the hundred gaily blows,</p> +<p>And the river freshly flows</p> +<p class="i4">Close to me,</p> +<p>I can spend the summer day</p> +<p>In a quite idyllic way;</p> +<p>Simply charming, you would say,</p> +<p class="i4">Could you see.</p> +</div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<p>I am far from stuffy town,</p> +<p>Where the soots meander down,</p> +<p>And the air seems—being brown—</p> +<p class="i4">Close to me.</p> +<p>I am far from rushing train;</p> +<p><i>Bradshaw</i> does not bore my brain,</p> +<p>Nor, comparatively plain,</p> +<p class="i4"><i>A B C</i>.</p> +</div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<p>To my punt I can repair,</p> +<p>If the weather's fairly fair,</p> +<p>But one grievance I have there;</p> +<p class="i4">Close to me,</p> +<p>As I sit and idly dream,</p> +<p>Clammy corpses ever seem</p> +<p>Floating down the placid stream</p> +<p class="i4">To the sea.</p> +</div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Though the boats that crowd the lock—</p> +<p>Such an animated block!—</p> +<p>Bring gay damsels, quite a flock,</p> +<p class="i4">Close to me,</p> +<p>Yet I heed not tasty togs,</p> +<p>When, as motionless as logs,</p> +<p>Float defunct and dismal dogs</p> +<p class="i4">There <i>aussi</i>.</p> +</div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<p>As in Egypt at a feast,</p> +<p>With each party comes at least</p> +<p>One sad corpse, departed beast,</p> +<p class="i4">Close to me;</p> +<p>Till a Canon might go off,</p> +<p>Till a Dean might swear or scoff,</p> +<p>Or a Bishop—tip-top toff</p> +<p class="i4">In a see.</p> +</div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Floating to me from above,</p> +<p>If it stick, with gentle shove,</p> +<p>To my neighbour, whom I love,</p> +<p class="i4">Close to me,</p> +<p>I send on each gruesome guest.</p> +<p>Should I drag it out to rest</p> +<p>In my garden? No, I'm blest!</p> +<p class="i4"><i>Non, merci!</i></p> +</div> +</div> + +<hr /> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width:60%;"> +<a href="images/025.png"><img width="100%" src="images/025.png" alt="" /></a> +<h3>THE 'ARDEN-ING PROCESS.</h3> + +<p class="center"><i>Orlando.</i> "<span class="smcap">Tired, Rosalind?</span>" <i>Rosalind.</i> "<span class="smcap">Pneumatically.</span>"</p> +</div> + +<hr /> + +<h2>OUR BOOKING-OFFICE.</h2> + +<p class="indent">"For a modest dish of +camp-pie, suited to barracks +and youth militant, commend +me," quoth one of the Baron's +Baronites, "to <i>Only a +Drummer-Boy</i>, a maiden +effort, and unpretentious, like +its author, who calls himself +<span class="smcap">Arthur Amyand</span>, but is +really Captain <span class="smcap">Arthur +Drummer Haggard</span>. He has +the rare advantage, missed by +most people who write soldier +novels, of knowing what he is +talking about. If there are +faults 'to pardon in the drawing's +lines,' they are faults of +technique and not of anatomy." +"The Court is with you," +quoth the <span class="smcap">Baron de B.-W.</span></p> + +<hr /> + +<p class="indent"><span class="smcap">Hotel Note.</span>—The <i>chef</i> at +every Gordon Hotel ought to +be a "<i>Gordon Bleu</i>."</p> + +<hr /> + +<h2>THE VOLUNTEER'S VADE MECUM.</h2> + +<p class="center">(<i>Bisley Edition.</i>)</p> + +<p class="indent"><i>Question.</i> What is the ambition of every +rifleman?</p> + +<p class="indent"><i>Answer.</i> To become an expert marksman.</p> + +<p class="indent"><i>Q.</i> How is this to be done?</p> + +<p class="indent"><i>A.</i> By practice at the regimental butts +(where such accommodation exists), and appearing +at Bisley.</p> + +<p class="indent"><i>Q.</i> Is the new site of the National Rifle +Association better than the last?</p> + +<p class="indent"><i>A.</i> Certainly, for those who come to Bisley +intend to shoot.</p> + +<p class="indent"><i>Q.</i> But did any one turn up at Wimbledon +for any purpose other than marksmanship?</p> + +<p class="indent"><i>A.</i> Yes, for many of those who occupied the +tents used their <i>marquees</i> merely as a suitable +resting-place for light refreshments.</p> + +<p class="indent"><i>Q.</i> Is there anything of that kind at Bisley?</p> + +<p class="indent"><i>A.</i> Not much, as the nearest place of interest +is a crematorium, and the most beautiful +grounds in the neighbourhood belong to a +cemetery.</p> + +<p class="indent"><i>Q.</i> Then the business of Bisley is shooting?</p> + +<p class="indent"><i>A.</i> Distinctly. Without the rifle, the place +would be as melancholy as its companion +spot, Woking.</p> + +<p class="indent"><i>Q.</i> In this place of useful work, what is +the first object of the marksman?</p> + +<p class="indent"><i>A.</i> To score heavily, if possible; but, at +any rate, to score.</p> + +<p class="indent"><i>Q.</i> Is it necessary to appear in uniform?</p> + +<p class="indent"><i>A.</i> That depends upon the regulations +commanding the prize competitions.</p> + +<p class="indent"><i>Q.</i> What is uniform?</p> + +<p class="indent"><i>A.</i> As much or as little of the dress of a +corps that a judge will order a marksman to +adopt.</p> + +<p class="indent"><i>Q.</i> If some marksmen were paraded with +their own corps, how would they look?</p> + +<p class="indent"><i>A.</i> They would appear to be a sorry sight.</p> + +<p class="indent"><i>Q.</i> Why would they appear to be a sorry +sight?</p> + +<p class="indent"><i>A.</i> Because over a tunic would appear a +straw hat, and under a pouch-belt fancy +tweed trousers.</p> + +<p class="indent"><i>Q.</i> But surely if the Volunteers are anxious +to improve themselves they will practise +"smartness"?</p> + +<p class="indent"><i>A.</i> But they do not want to promote smartness; +they want to win cups, or the value of +cups.</p> + +<p class="indent"><i>Q.</i> What is the greatest reward that a +marksman can obtain?</p> + +<p class="indent"><i>A.</i> Some hundreds of pounds.</p> + +<p class="indent"><i>Q.</i> And the smallest?</p> + +<p class="indent"><i>A.</i> A dozen of somebody's champagne, or +a box of someone else's soap.</p> + +<p class="indent"><i>Q.</i> Under all the circumstances of the case, +what would be an appropriate rule for Bisley?</p> + +<p class="indent"><i>A.</i> Look after the cup-winning, and everything +else will take care of itself.</p> + +<hr /> + +<h2>LATEST PARLIAMENTARY BETTING.</h2> + +<p class="indent"><span class="smcap">General Election Stakes.</span></p> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i2">2 to 1 on Rosebery and Ladas (coupled).</p> +<p> 25 to 1 agst Harcourt's Resignation.</p> +<p> 50 to 1 — Nonconformist Conscience.</p> +<p> 70 to 1 — Budget Bill (off—75 to 1 taken).</p> +<p>100 to 1 — Ministerial Programme.</p> +</div> +</div> + +<p class="indent"><span class="smcap">For Places (Next Session Stakes).</span></p> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p> 2 to 1 on Asquith for the Leadership.</p> +<p>12 to 1 agst the Labouchere Peerage.</p> +</div> +</div> + +<p class="indent"><span class="smcap">New Premiership Selling Stakes.</span></p> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p> 12 to 1 on Gladstone Redivivus.</p> +<p>200 to 1 agst any other.</p> +</div> +</div> + +<hr /> + +<h2>AS WE LIKE IT.</h2> + +<p class="center">(<span class="smcap">Jaques</span> <i>resumes</i>.)</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>—All the world's upon the stage,</p> +<p>And here and there you really get a player:</p> +<p>The exits rather than the entrances</p> +<p>Are regulated by the County Council;</p> +<p>And one man in a season sees a lot—</p> +<p>Seven plays a week, including <i>matinées</i>,</p> +<p>And several acts in each. And first the infant,</p> +<p>A vernal blossom of the Garrick Caste,</p> +<p>Playing the super in his bassinet,</p> +<p>And innocently causing some chagrin</p> +<p>To Mr. <span class="smcap">Eccles</span>. Then there's <i>Archibald</i>,</p> +<p><i>New Boy</i>, and nearly father to the man,</p> +<p>With mourning on his face and kicks behind,</p> +<p>Returning under strong connubial stress</p> +<p>Unwillingly to school. And next the lover,</p> +<p>Sighing like <span class="smcap">Alexander</span> for fresh fields,</p> +<p>And plunging wofully to win a kiss,</p> +<p>Even to his very eyebrows. Then the soldier,</p> +<p>Armed with strange maxims and a carpet-bag,</p> +<p>Cock-Shaw in military ironies,</p> +<p>And blowing off the bubbling repartee</p> +<p>With chocolate in his mouth. And next is <i>Falstaff</i>,</p> +<p>In fair round belly with good bolsters lined,</p> +<p>Full of wide sores, and badly cut about</p> +<p>By Windsor hussies,—modern instances</p> +<p>Of the revolting woman. Sixthly, <i>Charley's Aunt</i>.</p> +<p>Now ancient as the earth, and shifting still</p> +<p>The Penley pantaloons for ladies' gear,</p> +<p>Her fine heroic waist a world too wide</p> +<p>For the slim corset, and her manly lips,</p> +<p>Tuned to the treble of a maiden's pipe,</p> +<p>Grasping a big cigar. Last scene of all,</p> +<p>The season's close and mere oblivion;</p> +<p>Away to Europe and the provinces;</p> +<p>And London left forlorn without them all,</p> +<p><i>Sans-Gêne</i>, <i>Santuzza</i>, yea, <i>sans</i> everything.</p> +</div> +</div> + +<hr /> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page026" id="page026"></a>[pg 026]</span></p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width:100%;"> +<img width="100%" src="images/026.png" alt="" /> +<h3>"A GOOD TIME COMING!"</h3> + +<p class="center"><i>British Farmer ("playing a game of mixed chance and skill with Nature")</i> "<span class="smcap">I do believe my Luck's on the turn!</span>"</p> +</div> + +<hr /> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page027" id="page027"></a>[pg 027]</span></p> + +<h2>"A GOOD TIME COMING!"</h2> + +<p class="center">(<i>And it <span class="smcap">HAS</span> been a good time coming.</i>)</p> + +<blockquote class="note"> +["The game of mixed chance and skill which the farmer plays each +year with Nature is still undecided; but, if the farmer wins, his winnings +will be large indeed."—<i>The "Times" on Farming Prospects.</i>] +</blockquote> + +<p class="center"><i>British Farmer, loq.:</i>—</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Bless my old bones!—they're weary ones, wherefore I takes small shame—</p> +<p>For the first time for many a year mine <i>looks</i> a winning game!</p> +<p>A "bumper" harvest? Blissful thought! For long I've been fair stuck,</p> +<p>But now I really hope I see a change in my bad luck.</p> +<p>True, my opponent is a chap 'tis doosed hard to match.</p> +<p>I seed a picture once of one a playing 'gainst Old Scratch,</p> +<p>And oftentimes I feels like that, a-sticking all together,</p> +<p>Against that demon-dicer whom we know as British Weather!</p> +<p>What use of ploughs and patience, boys, or skill, and seed, and sickle,</p> +<p>'Gainst frost, and rain, and blighted grain, and all that's foul and fickle?</p> +<p>When the fly is on the turmuts, and the blight is on the barley,</p> +<p>And meadows show like sodden swamps, a farmer do get snarley.</p> +<p>But now the crops from hay to hops show promising of plenty,</p> +<p>A-doubling last year's average, plus a extry ten or twenty.</p> +<p>And straw is good, uncommon so, and barley, wheat and oats, Sir,</p> +<p>Make a rare show o'er whose rich glow the long-tried farmer gloats, Sir!</p> +<p>Beans ain't so bad, spite o' May frosts; turnips and swedes look topping;</p> +<p>Though the frost and fly the mangolds try, and the taters won't be whopping.</p> +<p>Those poor unlucky taters! If there's any mischief going,</p> +<p>They cop their share, and how they'll fare this year there ain't no knowing;</p> +<p>And peas is good, and hops is bad, or baddish. But, by jingo!</p> +<p>The sight o' the hay as I saw to-day is as good as a glass of stingo.</p> +<p>Pastures and meadows promise prime, well nigh the country over,</p> +<p>Though them as depend on their clover-crop will hardly be in clover.</p> +<p>But take 'em all, the big and small, the cereals, roots, and grasses,</p> +<p>There's a lump o' cheer for the farmers' hearts, and the farmers' wives and lasses;</p> +<p>If only him I'm playing against—well, p'r'aps I'd best be civil,—</p> +<p>If he isn't <span class="smcap">Jemmy Squarefoot</span> though, he has the <i>luck</i> o' the divil.</p> +<p>With his rain and storm and cold and hot, and his host of insect horrors,</p> +<p>He has the pull, and our bright to-days may be spiled by black to-morrers.</p> +<p>A cove like him with looks so grim, and flies, and such philistians,</p> +<p>Is no fair foe for farmer chaps as is mortial men and Christians.</p> +<p>Look at him damply glowering there with a eye like a hungry vulture!</p> +<p>With his blights at hand, and his floods to command, he's the scourge of Agriculture.</p> +<p>But howsomever, although he's clever, luck's all, and mine seems turning,</p> +<p>Oh! for a few more fair fine weeks, not swamped, nor yet too burning,</p> +<p>When the sun shines sweet on the slanting wheat, with the bees through the clover humming,</p> +<p>And us farmer chaps with a cheery heart <i>will</i> sing "<i>There's a good time coming!</i>"</p> +</div> +</div> + +<hr /> + +<h2>A MODERN MADAME.</h2> + +<p class="center">(<i>According to the New School of Teachers.</i>)</p> + +<p class="indent">She believes in nothing but herself, and never accepts her own +personality seriously.</p> + +<p class="indent">She has aspirations after the impossible, and is herself far from +probable; she regards her husband as an unnecessary evil, and her +children as disturbances without compensating advantages.</p> + +<p class="indent">She writes more than she reads and seldom scribbles anything.</p> + +<p class="indent">She has no feelings, and yet has a yearning after the intense.</p> + +<p class="indent">She is the antithesis of her grandmother, and has made further +development in generations to come quite impossible.</p> + +<p class="indent">She thinks without the thoughts of a male, and yet has lost the +comprehension of a female.</p> + +<p class="indent">To sum up, she is hardly up to the standard of a man, and yet has +sunk several fathoms below the level of a woman.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p class="indent"><span class="smcap">Mem. at Lord's during the Eton and Harrow, Friday, +July 13.</span> (<i>It rained the better part, which became the worse part, +of the day.</i>)—Not much use trying to do anything with any "match" +in the wet.</p> + +<hr /> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width:50%;"> +<a href="images/027.png"><img width="100%" src="images/027.png" alt="" /></a> <h3>TO GOLFERS.</h3> + +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Suggestion for a Rainy Day. Spillikins on a Grand Scale.</span></p> +</div> + +<hr /> + +<h2>WHAT WE MAY EXPECT SOON.</h2> + +<p class="indent"><i>By Our Own Wire.</i>—Dispute broken out between local employer +of labour—Shoemaker with two apprentices—and his hands. One +apprentice won't work with t'other. Shoemaker locked out both.</p> + +<p class="indent"><i>Later News.</i>—Dispute developing. Amalgamated Association of +Trade Unions sent fifty thousand men with rifles into town. Also +park of artillery. Arbitration suggested.</p> + +<p class="indent"><i>Special Telegram.</i>—Federated Society of Masters occupying Market +Place and principal streets with Gatling guns. Expresses itself +willing to accept Arbitration in principle.</p> + +<p class="indent"><i>A Day After.</i>—Conflicts to-day between opposing forces. Streets +resemble battle-field. Authorities announce—"will shortly act with +vigour." Enrolled ten extra policemen. Police, including extra ten, +captured by rioters, and locked up in their own cells. Business—except +of undertakers—at standstill.</p> + +<p class="indent"><i>Latest Developments.</i>—More conflicts, deaths, outrages, incendiarism. +Central Government telegraphs to Shoemaker to take back +both apprentices to stop disastrous disorder. No reply. Shoemaker +and both apprentices been killed in riots.</p> + +<p class="indent"><i>Close of the Struggle.</i>—Stock of gunpowder exhausted. Both +sides inclined to accept compromise. Board of Conciliation formed. +Survivors of employers and employed shake hands. Town irretrievably +ruined, but peace firmly re-established.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p class="indent"><span class="smcap">What! Already!</span>—"I'm afraid," said Mrs. R., "that the new +Tower Bridge is in a bad way. I hear it said, of course I do not +know with what truth, that it has 'bascules.' Now weren't they the +insects that destroyed the crops one year and gave so many persons +the influenza? I think you'll find I'm right."</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<p class="indent"><span class="smcap">Epigrammatic Description, by a Billiard Player, of the +selection of the Chief Minstrel to be the Recipient of a +Prize at the recent Eisteddfod.</span>—"<i>Spot Bard.</i>"</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<p class="indent"><span class="smcap">Accidents in our rottenest Rotten Row.</span>—The sooner the +cause (<i>i.e.</i> Rotten Row itself) of the numerous complaints is <i>well +grounded</i>, the better for the equestrians.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<p class="indent"><span class="smcap">National Reflection (suggested by recent Yacht-Race).</span>—It +is of small use <span class="smcap">Britannia</span> being <span class="smcap">Britannia</span> unless she be also Vigilant.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page028" id="page028"></a>[pg 028]</span></p> + +<h2>LYRE AND LANCET.</h2> + +<p class="center">(<i>A Story in Scenes.</i>)</p> + +<p class="center">PART III.—THE TWO ANDROMEDAS.</p> + +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Scene III.</span>—<i>Opposite a Railway Bookstall at a London Terminus.</i> +<span class="smcap">Time</span>—<i>Saturday</i>, 4.25 <span class="smcap">P.M.</span></p> + +<p class="indent"><i>Drysdale</i> (<i>to his friend</i>, <span class="smcap">Galfrid Undershell</span>, <i>whom he is +"seeing off"</i>). Twenty minutes to spare; time enough to lay in any +quantity of light literature.</p> + +<p class="indent"><i>Undershell (in a head voice).</i> I fear the merely ephemeral does not +appeal to me. But I should like to make a little experiment. (<i>To +the Bookstall Clerk.</i>) A—do you happen to have a copy left of +<span class="smcap">Clarion Blair's</span> <i>Andromeda</i>?</p> + +<p class="indent"><i>Clerk.</i> Not in stock, Sir. Never 'eard of the book, but daresay +I could get it for you. Here's a Detective Story we're sellin' like +'ot cakes—<i>The Man with the Missing Toe</i>—very cleverly written +story, Sir.</p> + +<div class="figright" style="width:40%;"> +<a href="images/028.png"><img width="100%" src="images/028.png" alt="" /></a> <p class="center">"Here 's a detective story we're sellin' like 'ot cakes."</p> +</div> + +<p class="indent"><i>Und.</i> I merely wished to know—that was all. (<i>Turning with +resigned disgust to</i> <span class="smcap">Drysdale</span>.) Just think of it, my dear fellow. At a +bookstall like this one feels the pulse, +as it were, of Contemporary Culture; +and here my <i>Andromeda</i>, which no +less an authority than the <i>Daily +Chronicle</i> hailed as the uprising of a +new and splendid era in English Songmaking, +a Poetic Renascence, my poor +<i>Andromeda</i> is trampled underfoot by—(<i>choking</i>)—Men +with Missing Toes! +What a satire on our so-called Progress!</p> + +<p class="indent"><i>Drys.</i> That a purblind public should +prefer a Shilling Shocker for railway +reading when for a modest half-guinea +they might obtain a numbered volume +of Coming Poetry on hand-made paper! +It <i>does</i> seem incredible,—but they do. +Well, if they can't read <i>Andromeda</i> +on the journey, they can at least peruse +a stinger on it in this week's <i>Saturday</i>. +Seen it?</p> + +<p class="indent"><i>Und.</i> No. I don't vex my soul by +reading criticisms on my work. I am +no <span class="smcap">Keats</span>. They may howl—but they +will not kill <i>me</i>. By the way, the +<i>Speaker</i> had a most enthusiastic notice +last week.</p> + +<p class="indent"><i>Drys.</i> So you saw <i>that</i> then? But +you're right not to mind the others. +When a fellow's contrived to hang +on to the Chariot of Fame, he can't +wonder if a few rude and envious +beggars call out "Whip behind!" eh? +You don't want to get in yet? Suppose +we take a turn up to the end of +the platform.</p> + +<blockquote> +<p class="indent">[<i>They do.</i></p> +</blockquote> + +<blockquote> +<p class="indent"><span class="smcap">James Spurrell, M.R.C.V.S.</span>, <i>enters +with his friend</i>, <span class="smcap">Thomas Tanrake</span>, +<i>of</i> <span class="smcap">Hurdell and Tanrake</span>, <i>Job and +Riding Masters, Mayfair</i>.</p> +</blockquote> + +<p class="indent"><i>Spurrell.</i> Yes, it's lucky for me old +<span class="smcap">Spavin</span> being laid up like this—gives +me a regular little outing, do you see? +going down to a swell place like this +Wyvern Court, and being put up there for a day or two! I shouldn't +wonder if they do you very well in the housekeeper's room. (<i>To</i> Clerk.) +Give me a <i>Pink 'Un</i> and last week's <i>Dog Fancier's Guide</i>.</p> + +<p class="indent"><i>Clerk.</i> We've returned the unsold copies. Could give you <i>this</i> +week's; or there's <i>The Rabbit and Poultry Breeder's Journal</i>.</p> + +<p class="indent"><i>Spurr.</i> Oh, rabbits be blowed! (To <span class="smcap">Tanrake</span>.) I wanted you to +see that notice they put in of <i>Andromeda</i> and me, with my photo +and all; it said she was the best bull-bitch they'd seen for many a +day, and fully deserved her first prize.</p> + +<p class="indent"><i>Tanrake.</i> She's a rare good bitch, and no mistake. But what +made you call her such an outlandish name?</p> + +<p class="indent"><i>Spurr.</i> Well, I <i>was</i> going to call her <i>Sal</i>; but a chap at the +College thought the other would look more stylish if I ever meant to +exhibit her. <i>Andromeda</i> was one of them Roman goddesses, you know.</p> + +<p class="indent"><i>Tanr.</i> Oh, I knew <i>that</i> right enough. Come and have a drink +before you start—just for luck—not that you want <i>that</i>.</p> + +<p class="indent"><i>Spurr.</i> I'm lucky enough in most things, <span class="smcap">Tom</span>; in everything +except love. I told you about that girl, you know—<span class="smcap">Emma</span>—and +my being as good as engaged to her, and then, all of a sudden, she +went off abroad and I've never seen or had a line from her since. +Can't call <i>that</i> luck, you know. Well, I won't say no to a glass of +something.</p> + +<blockquote> +<p class="indent">[<i>They disappear into the Refreshment Room.</i></p> + +<p class="indent"><i>The</i> Countess of <span class="smcap">Cantire</span> <i>enters with her daughter</i>, Lady +<span class="smcap">Maisie Mull</span>.</p> +</blockquote> + +<p class="indent"><i>Lady Cantire</i> (<i>to</i> Footman). Get a compartment for us, and two +foot-warmers, and a second-class as near ours as you can for +<span class="smcap">Phillipson</span>; then come back here. Stay, I'd better give you +<span class="smcap">Phillipson's</span> ticket. (<i>The</i> Footman <i>disappears in the crowd.</i>) Now +we must get something to read on the journey. (<i>To</i> Clerk.) I want a +book of some sort—no rubbish, mind; something serious and +improving, and <i>not</i> a work of fiction.</p> + +<p class="indent"><i>Clerk.</i> Exactly so, Ma'am. Let me see. Ah, here's <i>Alone with +the 'Airy Ainoo</i>. How would you like <i>that</i>?</p> + +<p class="indent"><i>Lady Cant.</i> (<i>with decision</i>). I should not like it at all.</p> + +<p class="indent"><i>Clerk.</i> I quite understand. Well, I can give you <i>Three 'Undred +Ways of Dressing the Cold Mutton</i>—useful little book for a family, +redooced to one and ninepence.</p> + +<p class="indent"><i>Lady Cant.</i> Thank you. I think I will wait until I am reduced +to one and ninepence.</p> + +<p class="indent"><i>Clerk.</i> Precisely. What do you say to <i>Seven 'Undred Side-splitters +for Sixpence</i>? 'Ighly yumorous, I assure you.</p> + +<p class="indent"><i>Lady Cant.</i> Are these times to split our sides, with so many +serious social problems pressing for +solution? You are presumably not +without intelligence; do you never +reflect upon the responsibility you +incur in assisting to circulate trivial +and frivolous trash of this sort?</p> + +<p class="indent"><i>Clerk</i> (<i>dubiously</i>). Well, I can't +say as I do, particular, Ma'am. I'm +paid to sell the books—I don't <i>select</i> +'em.</p> + +<p class="indent"><i>Lady Cant.</i> That is <i>no</i> excuse for +you—you ought to exercise some discrimination +on your own account, +instead of pressing people to buy what +can do them no possible good. You +can give me a <i>Society Snippets</i>.</p> + +<p class="indent"><i>Lady Maisie.</i> Mamma! A penny +paper that says such rude things about +the Royal Family!</p> + +<p class="indent"><i>Lady Cant.</i> It's always instructive +to know what these creatures are saying +about one, my dear, and it's astonishing +how they manage to find out +the things they do. Ah, here's <span class="smcap">Gravener</span> +coming back. He's got us a +carriage, and we'd better get in.</p> + +<blockquote> +<p class="indent">[<i>She and her daughter enter a first-class +compartment</i>; <span class="smcap">Undershell</span> +<i>and</i> <span class="smcap">Drysdale</span> <i>return</i>.</p> +</blockquote> + +<p class="indent"><i>Drys.</i> (<i>to</i> <span class="smcap">Undershell</span>). Well, I +don't see now where the insolence +comes in. These people have invited +you to stay with them——</p> + +<p class="indent"><i>Und.</i> But why? Not because they +appreciate my work—which they probably +only half understand—but out +of mere idle curiosity to see what +manner of strange beast a Poet may +be! And <i>I</i> don't know this Lady +<span class="smcap">Culverin</span>—never met her in my life! +What the deuce does she mean by +sending me an invitation? Why +should these smart women suppose +that they are entitled to send for a +Man of Genius, as if he was their <i>lackey?</i> Answer me that!</p> + +<p class="indent"><i>Drys.</i> Perhaps the delusion is encouraged by the fact that Genius +occasionally condescends to answer the bell.</p> + +<p class="indent"><i>Und.</i> (<i>reddening</i>). Do you imagine I am going down to this place +simply to please <i>them</i>?</p> + +<p class="indent"><i>Drys.</i> I should think it a doubtful kindness, in your present frame +of mind; and, as you are hardly going to please yourself, wouldn't +it be more dignified, on the whole, not to go at all?</p> + +<p class="indent"><i>Und.</i> You never <i>did</i> understand me! Sometimes I think I was +born to be misunderstood! But you might do me the justice to +believe that I am not going from merely snobbish motives. May +I not feel that such a recognition as this is a tribute less to my poor +self than to Literature, and that, as such, I have scarcely the <i>right</i> +to decline it?</p> + +<p class="indent"><i>Drys.</i> Ah, if you put it in that way, I am silenced, of course.</p> + +<p class="indent"><i>Und.</i> Or what if I am going to show these Patricians that—Poet +of the People as I am—they can neither patronise nor cajole me?</p> + +<p class="indent"><i>Drys.</i> Exactly, old chap—what if you <i>are</i>?</p> + +<p class="indent"><i>Und.</i> I don't say that I may not have another reason—a—a rather +romantic one—but you would only sneer if I told you! I know you +think me a poor creature whose head has been turned by an undeserved +success.</p> + +<p class="indent"> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page029" id="page029"></a>[pg 029]</span> +<i>Drys.</i> You're not going to try to pick a quarrel with an old chum, +are you? Come, you know well enough I don't think anything of the +sort. I've always said you had the right stuff in you, and would +show it some day; there are even signs of it in <i>Andromeda</i> here and +there; but you'll do better things than that, if you'll only let some +of the wind out of your head. I like you, old fellow, and that's +just why it riles me to see you taking yourself so devilish seriously +on the strength of a little volume of verse which has been "boomed" +for all it's worth, and considerably more. You've only got your +immortality on a short repairing lease at present, old boy!</p> + +<p class="indent"><i>Und.</i> (<i>with bitterness</i>). I am fortunate in possessing such a candid +friend. But I mustn't keep you here any longer.</p> + +<p class="indent"><i>Drys.</i> Very well. I suppose you're going first? Consider the +feelings of the <span class="smcap">Culverin</span> footman at the other end!</p> + +<p class="indent"><i>Und.</i> (<i>as he fingers a first-class ticket in his pocket</i>). You have a +very low view of human nature! (<i>Here he remarks a remarkably +pretty face at a second-class window close by.</i>) As it <i>happens</i>, I am +travelling second.</p> + +<blockquote> +<p class="indent">[<i>He gets in.</i></p> +</blockquote> + +<p class="indent"><i>Drys.</i> (<i>at the window</i>). Well, good-bye, old chap. Good luck to +you at Wyvern, and remember—wear your livery with as good a +grace as possible.</p> + +<p class="indent"><i>Und.</i> I do not intend to wear any livery whatever.</p> + +<blockquote> +<p class="indent">[<i>The owner of the pretty face regards</i> <span class="smcap">Undershell</span> <i>with interest.</i></p> +</blockquote> + +<p class="indent"><i>Spurr</i>. (<i>coming out of the Refreshment Room</i>). What, second? +with all my exes. paid? Not <i>likely</i>! I'm going to travel in style +this journey. No—not a smoker; don't want to create a bad +impression, you know. This will do for me.</p> + +<blockquote> +<p class="indent">[<i>He gets into a compartment occupied by</i> Lady <span class="smcap">Cantire</span> <i>and her +daughter.</i></p> +</blockquote> + +<p class="indent"><i>Tanr.</i> (<i>at the window</i>). There—you're off now. Pleasant +journey to you, old man. Hope you'll enjoy yourself at this Wyvern +Court you're going to—and I say, don't forget to send me that notice +of <i>Andromeda</i> when you get back!</p> + +<blockquote> +<p class="indent">[<i>The</i> Countess <i>and</i> Lady <span class="smcap">Maisie</span> <i>start slightly; the train moves +out of the station.</i></p> +</blockquote> + +<hr /> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width:50%;"> +<a href="images/029.png"><img width="100%" src="images/029.png" alt="" /></a> + +<h3>'ARRY AT BISLEY.</h3> + +<p class="indent">'<i>Arry</i> (<i>to 'Arriet</i>). "<span class="smcap">Oh, I sy! What Seeds them must be to +grow a Lamp-post!</span>"</p> +</div> + +<hr /> + +<h2>THE LATEST GREAT YACHT RACE.</h2> + +<p class="center">(<i>By our own Nautical Special.</i>)</p> + +<p class="indent"><span class="smcap">Dear Sir</span>,—The captain went on board the gallant <i>Naughty Lass</i> +with his Wind Lass. A Wind Lass is short for "Winn'd Lass," <i>i.e.</i> +a Lass he has won. I think her name is "<span class="smcap">Poll</span>." The Captain says +he is always true to her, and nothing will ever induce him to leave +his dear Wind Lass ashore when he's afloat. Noble sentiment, but +unpractical. The fact is (as whispered) the Wind Lass is jealous of the +<i>Naughty Lass</i>, and won't let the Captain go alone. When the other +Captain went on board the rival of the gallant <i>Naughty Lass</i>, the +<i>Anne Nemone</i>, and "the crafty ones," as they call the sailors "in the +know," were ready to bet any money on the <i>Anne Nemone</i>. Both +cutters "cut" (hence the name) well away from each other at the +start, and a fresh breeze coming up (the stale one had been got rid of) +there was a lot of fore-reaching, until the Captain, who is an old hand +at this sort of thing, sent round steward with brandy. "All hands for +grog!" was then the order of the day, and we just managed to clear +Muddle Point, leaving the home-marked (or "home-made," I forget +which is the technical term, but I suppose the latter, as she was +built on the neighbouring premises) boat well to windward. After a +free reach in this weather down to Boot Shore—where the vessel +heeled over a bit, but nothing to speak of, as it was soon remedied +by a cobble that was close at hand—the <i>Naughty Lass</i> lifted her +head-sails, and away we went for Incog Bay, where nobody knew +us, or we should have been received with three times three.</p> + +<p class="indent">At this moment the <i>Anne Nemone</i>, racing close to us, let out a +right good "gybe," which was in execrable taste, I admit, but which +ought not to have called for any retort from the captain's Wind +Lass, who gave it her hot and strong, and threatened to haul her over +the coal-scuttlers. Fortunately we were away again, and there was +no time for opposite gybes. (I spell "gybes" in the old English +nautical fashion, but, as I ascertain, it is precisely the same as "jibes.") +Sailors' language is a bit odd; they don't mean anything, I know—it's +only professional; still, as reporting the matter to ears polite, +I scarcely like to set down in full <i>all</i> I heard. At 1 <span class="smcap">P.M.</span> all hands +were piped for luncheon, and we had spinnakers cooked in their skins +(they are a sort of bean), with a rare nautical dish called "Booms +and Bacon." Fine! I did enjoy it! But then I'm an old hand at +this sort of thing,—luncheon on board, I mean; for there's scarcely +a board, be it sea board or other board, or, in fact, any boarding +establishment, that I don't know. But "yeo ho! my boys! and +avast!" for are we not still racing? We are!!</p> + +<p class="indent">We passed The Bottle at 2.30 <span class="smcap">P.M.</span> What had become of the +<i>Anne Nemone</i> I don't know, and probably we should never have +seen her again had not our captain, who was trying to sight the +port after passing The Bottle, stood on the wrong tack, which ran +into his boot and hurt him awfully. He was carried below, and we +gathered round him as he turned to the <i>Naughty Lass</i> and murmured—but +<span class="smcap">Polly</span> objected that there was nothing to murmur about +or to grumble at, and that the sooner he stumbled on deck the +better it would be for the race. So up rose our brave captain, took a +stiff draught of weather bilge (which is the best preventive of sea-sickness), +and calling for his first mate, Mr. <span class="smcap">Jack Yard Topsail</span>, +told him to "stand away," which I could quite understand, for <span class="smcap">Jack +Yard Topsail</span> is a regular salt, full of tar, rum, 'baccy, and everything +that can make life sweet to <i>him</i>, but not to his immediate neighbours. +So "stand away" and not "stand by" it was, and when we +got to Squeams Bay the sailors took a short hitch (it is necessary occasionally—but +I cannot say more—lady-readers being present), and we +went streaking away like a side of bacon on a fine day.</p> + +<p class="indent">"Are we winning?" asks <span class="smcap">Polly</span>, the Wind Lass. "<i>You</i> look +winning!" I reply, politely. "By how much?" she inquires, just +tucking up her skirts, and showing a trim ankle. The Captain, with +his glass to his eye, and looking down, answers, "The fifth of a long +leg!" I never saw a woman so angry! "I haven't!" she exclaimed; +and there would have been a row, and we should never have won, as +we did splendidly, had not the "First Officer" (just as they name the +supernumeraries in a play) come up and reminded Pretty <span class="smcap">Polly</span> that +she wasn't the only mate the Captain had on board. "Where's the +other?" she cried, in a fury. "Below!" answered the First Officer, +and down went <span class="smcap">Polly</span>, not to re-appear again until all was over, and +our victorious binnacle was waving proudly from the fore-top-gallant. +At the finish we went clean into harbour, without a speck on our +forecastle, or a stain on our character. I wire you the account of +this great race, and am (Rule <span class="smcap">Britannia</span>!)</p> + +<p class="right">Yours,<br /> +"<span class="smcap">Every Other Inch a Sailor!</span>"</p> + +<p class="indent">P.S.—I am informed that after I left the vessel—in fact it was +next day—a Burgee was run up at the mast head. I suppose some +sort of court-martial was held first, and that the Burgee (poor +wretch!) was caught red-handed. Still, in these days, this sort of +proceeding does sound rather tyrannical. High-masted justice, eh? +Well, sea-dogs will be sea-dogs. I don't exactly know what a Burgee +is, but I fancy he is something between a Buccaneer and a Bargee; +a sort of river-and-sea pirate. But I fear it is a landsman!! +Burgee, masculine (and probably husband) of Burgess!! If so, there +<i>will</i> be a row!</p> + +<p class="right">Yours as Before the Mast.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p class="indent"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page030" id="page030"></a>[pg 030]</span></p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width:100%;"> +<img width="100%" src="images/031.png" alt="" /> +<h3>"A FRIEND IN NEED—"</h3> + +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Anarchist.</span> "'ELP! 'ELP! PER-LICE!!"</p> + +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Constable.</span> "'DOWN WITH EVERYTHING,' INDEED! LUCKY FOR <i>YOU</i> YOU HAVEN'T 'DOWN'D' <i>ME</i>!!"</p> +</div> + +<hr /> + +<h2>A FRIEND IN NEED;</h2> + +<p class="indent"><i>Or, The Lawbreaker's Last Refuge.</i></p> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i2">Sure stranger irony life never saw</p> +<p class="i2">Than Lawlessness low suppliant to the Law!</p> +</div> +</div> + +<p class="indent"><i>Guardian of Order soliloquiseth:</i>—</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>"Down with Everything!" Ah, yes!</p> +<p class="i2">That's the sort o' rot you jaw!</p> +<p>You'd be in a tidy mess</p> +<p class="i2">If you'd downed with good old Law.</p> +<p>Funniest job we have to do,</p> +<p>Is to "save" such scamps as you.</p> +</div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<p>"Down with Everything!" Spout on!</p> +<p class="i2">I, who stand for Law, stand by.</p> +<p>You may want me ere you've done.</p> +<p class="i2">Somethink in that workman's eye,</p> +<p>And the clenching of his fist,</p> +<p>Ought to put you on the twist.</p> +</div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Think you're fetching of 'em fine</p> +<p class="i2">With your tommy-rotten patter?</p> +<p>Think you've got 'em in a line,</p> +<p class="i2">Or as near as doesn't matter?</p> +<p>Won't you feel in a rare stew</p> +<p>If they take to downing <i>you</i>?</p> +</div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Downing is a sort o' game</p> +<p class="i2">Two can play at <i>here</i>—thanks be!</p> +<p>Spin your lead out! Don't let shame,</p> +<p class="i2">Common sense, or courtesy,</p> +<p>Put the gag on your red rag;</p> +<p>Flourish it—like your Red Flag!</p> +</div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<p>How they waggle, flag and tongue!</p> +<p class="i2">Proud o' that same bit of bunting?</p> +<p>See the glances on you flung?</p> +<p class="i2">Hear the British workman grunting?</p> +<p>He is none too fond, that chap,</p> +<p>Of rank rot and the Red Cap!</p> +</div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Perched upon a noodle's nob,</p> +<p class="i2">Minds me of an organ-monkey!—</p> +<p>If a workman will not <i>rob</i>,</p> +<p class="i2">You denounce him as a "flunkey."</p> +<p>Some of 'em know what that means.</p> +<p>Mind your eye! They'll give you beans!</p> +</div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Ah! I thought so. Gone too fur!</p> +<p class="i2">Set the British Workman booing.</p> +<p>"<i>Dirty dog!!!</i>" That riles you, Sir!</p> +<p class="i2">Better mind what you are doing!</p> +<p>Mug goes saffron now, with fear,</p> +<p>Round you glare! Yes, Law <i>is</i> here!</p> +</div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Show your teeth, shark-like and yellow!</p> +<p class="i2">You won't frighten them, or me.</p> +<p>Ah! there comes the true mob-bellow!</p> +<p class="i2">That means mischief—as you see.</p> +<p>Mob, when mettled, goes a squelcher</p> +<p>For Thief, Anarchist <i>or</i> Welsher.</p> +</div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<p>"Help! Perlice!!" Oh! <i>that</i>'s your cry!</p> +<p class="i2"><i>I'm</i> your friend, then,—at a pinch?</p> +<p>Funk first taste of Anarchy?</p> +<p class="i2">Law is better than—Judge Lynch?</p> +<p>Rummy this! For all his jaw</p> +<p class="i2">The lawbreaker flies to Law!</p> +</div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Good as a sensation novel</p> +<p class="i2">For to see you crouching there.</p> +<p>Can't these Red Flag heroes grovel?</p> +<p class="i2">Come, my Trojan, have a care.</p> +<p>Do not clasp Law's legs that way,</p> +<p>Like <i>Scum Goodman</i> in the play.</p> +</div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Help? Oh, yes; I'll help you—out!—</p> +<p class="i2">"<i>Stand back there, please! Pass along!</i>"</p> +<p>Come, get up! <i>Now</i> don't you doubt</p> +<p class="i2">If your "downing" dodge ain't wrong?</p> +<p>Anyhow 'tis, you'll agree,</p> +<p>Lucky for <i>you</i>—you've not downed <i>me</i>!</p> +</div> +</div> + +<hr /> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width:100%;"> +<img width="100%" src="images/030.png" alt="" /> +<h3>WHAT OUR ARTIST HAS TO PUT UP WITH.</h3> + +<p class="indent"><i>Madame la Baronne</i> (<i>who <span class="smcap">WILL</span> speak English</i>). "<span class="smcap">And tell me, Mistress Brown, your clevare 'Usband, who 'ave a so beautiful +talent—is he yet of ze Royal Academy?</span>"</p> + +<p class="indent"><i>Our Artist's Wife</i> (<i>who <span class="smcap">WILL</span> speak French</i>). "<span class="smcap">Oh non, Madame, hélas! Seulement, il est <i>pendu</i> cette Année, vous savez!</span>"</p> + +<p class="indent"><i>Madame la Baronne</i> (<i>relapsing into her native language</i>). "<span class="smcap">Oh—Madame—quelle affreuse Nouvelle!</span>"</p> +</div> + +<hr /> + +<h2>A MIDSUMMER DAY-DREAM.</h2> + +<blockquote> +<p class="indent">[<i>The Jackson-Harmsworth Expedition has started.</i>]</p> +</blockquote> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p><span class="smcap">Punch</span> sleeps. The cheerful Sage has heard</p> +<p class="i2">That <span class="smcap">Jackson</span> is about to start.</p> +<p>His sympathies are warmly stirred,</p> +<p class="i2">He hath the <i>Windward's</i> weal at heart.</p> +<p>He dreams: That block of dinner ice</p> +<p class="i2">Stirs arctic fancies in his breast.</p> +<p>He travels Pole-ward in a trice;</p> +<p class="i2">He joins the <span class="smcap">Jackson-Harmsworth</span> quest.</p> +</div> +</div> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>"All precious things, discovered late</p> +<p class="i2">To those that seek them issue forth."—</p> +<p>To find her may be <span class="smcap">Jackson's</span> fate,</p> +<p class="i2">That Sleeping Beauty of the North!</p> +<p>She lieth in her icy cave</p> +<p class="i2">As still as sleep, as white as death.</p> +<p>Her look might stagger the most brave,</p> +<p class="i2">And make the stoutest hold his breath.</p> +</div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<p>"The bodies and the bones of those</p> +<p class="i2">That strove in other days to pass,"</p> +<p>Are scattered o'er the spreading snows,</p> +<p class="i2">Are bleached about that sea of glass.</p> +<p>He gazes on the silent dead:</p> +<p class="i2">"They perished in their daring deeds."</p> +<p>The proverb flashes through his head,</p> +<p class="i2">"The many fail: the one succeeds."</p> +</div> +</div> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p><i>Punch</i> wakes: lo! it is but a dream—</p> +<p class="i2">A vision of the Frozen Sea;</p> +<p>Yet may be it may hold a gleam</p> +<p class="i2">Of prophecy. So mote it be!</p> +<p>To <span class="smcap">Jackson</span> and to <span class="smcap">Harmsworth</span> too</p> +<p class="i2">He brims a well-earnt bumper. "Skoal!"</p> +<p>Here's health to them and their brave crew!</p> +<p class="i2">And safe return from well-won goal!</p> +</div> +</div> + +<hr /> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page033" id="page033"></a>[pg 033]</span></p> + +<h2>THE MINX.—A POEM IN PROSE.</h2> + +<p class="indent"><i>Poet.</i> It's so good of you to see +me. I merely wished to ask one or +two questions as to your career. You +must have led a most interesting life.</p> + +<div class="figright" style="width:40%;"> +<img width="100%" src="images/033.png" alt="" /> +</div> + +<p class="indent"><i>Sphinx.</i> You are very inquisitive +and extremely indiscreet, and I have +always carefully avoided being interviewed. +However, go on.</p> + +<p class="indent"><i>Poet.</i> I believe you can read hieroglyphs?</p> + +<p class="indent"><i>Sphinx.</i> Oh yes; I <i>can</i>, fluently, +But I never do. I assure you they +are not in the least amusing.</p> + +<p class="indent"><i>Poet.</i> No doubt you have talked +with hippogriffs and basilisks?</p> + +<p class="indent"><i>Sphinx</i> (<i>modestly</i>). I certainly <i>was</i> +in rather a smart set at one time. As +they say, I have "known better days."</p> + +<p class="indent"><i>Poet.</i> Did you ever have any conversation +with <span class="smcap">Thoth</span>?</p> + +<p class="indent"><i>Sphinx</i> (<i>loftily</i>). Oh, dear no! +(<i>Mimicking.</i>) Thoth he wath not conthidered +quite a nice perthon. I would +not allow him to be introduced to me.</p> + +<p class="indent"><i>Poet.</i> You were very particular?</p> + +<p class="indent"><i>Sphinx.</i> One has to be careful. +The world is so censorious.</p> + +<p class="indent"><i>Poet.</i> I wonder, would you give +me the pleasure of singing to me? +"<i>Adrian's Gilded Barge</i>," for +instance?</p> + +<p class="indent"><i>Sphinx.</i> You must really excuse +me. I am not in good voice. By the +way, the "Gilded Barge," as you +call it, was merely a shabby sort of +punt. It would have had no effect +whatever at the Henley Regatta.</p> + +<p class="indent"><i>Poet.</i> Dear me! Is it true you +played golf among the Pyramids?</p> + +<p class="indent"><i>Sphinx</i> (<i>emphatically</i>). Perfectly +untrue. You see what absurd reports +get about!</p> + +<p class="indent"><i>Poet</i> (<i>softly</i>). They do. What was +that story about the Tyrian?</p> + +<p class="indent"><i>Sphinx.</i> Merely gossip. There was +nothing in it, I assure you.</p> + +<p class="indent"><i>Poet.</i> And <span class="smcap">Apis</span>?</p> + +<p class="indent"><i>Sphinx.</i> Oh, he sent me some +flowers, and there were paragraphs +about it—in hieroglyphs—in the +society papers. That was all. But +they were contradicted.</p> + +<p class="indent"><i>Poet.</i> You knew <span class="smcap">Ammon</span> very +well, I believe?</p> + +<p class="indent"><i>Sphinx</i> (<i>frankly</i>). <span class="smcap">Ammon</span> and I +<i>were</i> great pals. I used to see a +good deal of him. He came in to tea +very often—he was <i>quite</i> interesting. +But I have not seen him for a long +time. He had one fault—he <i>would</i> +smoke in the drawing-room. And +though I hope I am not too conventional, +I really could not allow <i>that</i>.</p> + +<p class="indent"><i>Poet.</i> How pleased they would all +be to see you again! Why do you +not go over to Egypt for the winter?</p> + +<p class="indent"><i>Sphinx.</i> The hotels at Cairo are so +dreadfully expensive.</p> + +<p class="indent"><i>Poet.</i> Is it true you went tunny-fishing +with <span class="smcap">Antony</span>?</p> + +<p class="indent"><i>Sphinx.</i> One must draw the line +somewhere! <span class="smcap">Cleopatra</span> was so cross. +She was horribly jealous, and not +nearly so handsome as you might suppose, +though she <i>was</i> photographed +as a "type of Egyptian Beauty!"</p> + +<p class="indent"><i>Poet.</i> I must thank you very much +for the courteous way in which you +have replied to my questions. And +now will you forgive me if I make +an observation? In my opinion you +are not a Sphinx at all.</p> + +<p class="indent"><i>Sphinx</i> (<i>indignantly</i>). What am I, +then?</p> + +<p class="indent"><i>Poet.</i> A Minx.</p> + +<hr /> + +<h2>THE LAY OF THE EXPLORER.</h2> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>I USED to think that if a man</p> +<p class="i2">In any character could score a</p> +<p>Distinctly leonine success,</p> +<p class="i2">'Twould be as a returned explorer.</p> +</div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<p>So, when by sixteen tigers tree'd,</p> +<p class="i2">Or when mad elephants were charging,</p> +<p>I joyed to say—"On this, some day,</p> +<p class="i2">My countrymen will be enlarging."</p> +</div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<p>And when mosquitoes buzzed and bit</p> +<p class="i2">(For 'tis their pleasing nature to),</p> +<p>Or fevers floored me, still this dream</p> +<p class="i2">Helped me to suffer and to do.</p> +</div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<p>I <i>have</i> returned! Whole dusky tribes</p> +<p class="i2">I've wiped right out—such labour sweet is!—</p> +<p>And with innumerable chiefs</p> +<p class="i2">Arranged unconscionable treaties.</p> +</div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<p>What's the result? I have become</p> +<p class="i2">A butt for each humanitarian,</p> +<p>Who call my exploits in the chase</p> +<p class="i2">The work of a "confessed barbarian."</p> +</div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<p>And, worst of all, my rival, <span class="smcap">Jones</span>,</p> +<p class="i2">Who'd any trick that's low and mean dare,</p> +<p>Cries—"Equatorial jungles! Pish!</p> +<p class="i2">I don't believe he's ever been there!"</p> +</div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<p>So now I just "explore" Herne Bay,</p> +<p class="i2">With trippers, niggers, nurses, babies:</p> +<p>I've tried for fame. I 've gained it, too:</p> +<p class="i2">I share it with the vanished <span class="smcap">Jabez</span>!</p> +</div> +</div> + +<hr /> + +<p class="indent"><span class="smcap">Note and Query.</span>—At Aldershot the +<span class="smcap">Queen</span> expressed herself much pleased with +the "tattoo" all round. "<span class="smcap">Ignoramus</span>" +writes to inquire "if 'tattoo-ing' is done in +Indian ink or with gunpowder?"</p> + +<hr /> + +<h2>RULE, "BRITANNIA."</h2> + +<p class="center">(<i>New Yachtical Version.</i>)</p> + +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">H.R.H. the P——e of W——s</span> <i>sings</i>:—</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>When <i>Vigilant</i>, at <span class="smcap">Gould's</span> command,</p> +<p class="i2">Came over here to sweep the main,</p> +<p>This was the lay that thrilled the land,</p> +<p class="i2">And Yankee Doodle loved the strain—</p> +<p class="i2"> Lick <i>Britannia!</i> the fleet <i>Britannia</i> lick!</p> +<p class="i2"> And <span class="smcap">Johnny Bull</span> may cut his stick.</p> +</div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<p>But <i>Vigilant</i>, less fast than thee,</p> +<p class="i2">Must in her turn before thee fall,</p> +<p><i>Britannia</i>, who hast kept the sea,</p> +<p class="i2">The dread and envy of them all.</p> +<p class="i2"> Win, <i>Britannia</i>! <i>Britannia</i> rules the waves!</p> +<p class="i2"> (Though by the narrowest of shaves.)</p> +</div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Six races in succession show</p> +<p class="i2">The Yankee yacht has met her match;</p> +<p>Though she was hailed, not long ago,</p> +<p class="i2">The swiftest clipper of the batch.</p> +<p class="i2"> Rule, <i>Britannia</i>! <i>Britannia</i> rule the waves!</p> +<p class="i2"> The most appropriate of staves!</p> +</div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<p>I'm sorry poor <span class="smcap">Dunraven's</span> crack</p> +<p class="i2">So prematurely has gone down;</p> +<p>But mine has kept the winning tack,</p> +<p class="i2">And well upheld the isle's renown.</p> +<p class="i2"> Rule, <i>Britannia</i>! &c.</p> +</div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<p>When <span class="smcap">Jonathan</span> thy match hath found,</p> +<p class="i2">He'll to our coasts again repair.</p> +<p>We'll have another friendly round,</p> +<p class="i2">With manly hearts and all things fair.</p> +<p class="i2"> Rule, <i>Britannia</i>! <i>Britannia</i> rules the waves,</p> +<p class="i2"> Six sequent wins <span class="smcap">Bull's</span> honour saves!</p> +</div> +</div> + +<hr /> + +<h2>TO ALTHEA IN THE STALLS.</h2> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>From the Orchestra as I was staring</p> +<p class="i2">So wearily down at the hall,</p> +<p>The programme I held hardly caring</p> +<p class="i2">To turn, I was tired of it all!</p> +<p>For I knew 'twas a futile endeavour</p> +<p class="i2">With music my trouble to drown,</p> +<p>And I'd made up my mind that you never,</p> +<p class="i2">Ah, never, would come back to town!</p> +</div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<p>When suddenly, there I beheld you</p> +<p class="i2">Yourself—ah, the joyous amaze!</p> +<p>I wonder what instinct impelled you</p> +<p class="i2">Your dreamy dark eyes to upraise,</p> +<p>That for one happy second's communing</p> +<p class="i2">Met mine that had waited so long—</p> +<p>And the wail of the violins tuning</p> +<p class="i2">It turned to a jubilant song!</p> +</div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<p>'Mid organ-chords sombre and mellow</p> +<p class="i2">There breaks out a ripple of glee,</p> +<p>And the voice of the violoncello,</p> +<p class="i2"><span class="smcap">Althea</span>, is pleading for me!</p> +<p>The music is beating and surging</p> +<p class="i2">With joy no <i>adagio</i> can drown,</p> +<p>In ecstasy all things are merging—</p> +<p class="i2">Because you have come back to town!</p> +</div> +</div> + +<hr /> + +<p class="indent"><span class="smcap">The Corean Difficulty.</span>—"<i>Japan declines +to withdraw.</i>"—(<i>Telegram, Thursday, +July 12</i>).—"Ah," observed Miss <span class="smcap">Quoter</span>, +who is ever ready, "that reminds me of +<span class="smcap">Byron's</span> line in <i>Mazeppa</i>, quite applicable to +the present situation—</p> + +<blockquote> +<p class="indent">'Again he urges on his mild Corea.'"</p> +</blockquote> + +<hr /> + +<p class="indent"><span class="smcap">New Work</span> (<i>by the Chief Druid Minstrel at +the Eisteddfod, dedicated to their Royal Highnesses</i>).—"<i>How +to be Harpy in Wales.</i>" +</p> + +<hr /> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page034" id="page034"></a>[pg 034]</span></p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width:100%;"> +<img width="100%" src="images/034.png" alt="" /> +<h3>PREHISTORIC PEEPS.</h3> + +<p class="center">A CRICKET MATCH. "HOWS THAT, UMPIRE?"!!</p> +</div> + +<hr /> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page035" id="page035"></a>[pg 035]</span></p> + +<h2>ESSENCE OF PARLIAMENT.</h2> + +<p class="indent">EXTRACTED FROM THE DIARY OF TOBY, M.P.</p> + +<p class="indent"><i>House of Lords, Monday, July 9.</i>—<span class="smcap">Playfair's</span> leonine countenance +habitually cheerful. But never saw him looking so pleased +as when we walked through St. Stephen's Chapel on way to Lords just +now. "From point of view of old House of Commons man the Lords +are, I admit, a little unresponsive," my Lord said. "The chamber is, +acoustically and otherwise, the sepulchre of speech. You remember +the little lecture on +margarine I delivered +years ago in the Commons? +Bless me, how +delighted the House +was to see the table +covered with small +white pots containing +samples, with a bottle +of best Dorset margarine +hooked on to the +Mace for greater convenience +of reference. +Often I've enchained +an audience with my +object lessons. Up to +present time that monologue +on margarine +ranks as most successful. +But I'll beat +the record to-night. +See that?" (Here he +slapped a something +bulging out from his +trouser pocket.) +"Guess what that is? +Thought you couldn't. +It's cultch. Know +what cultch is?"</p> + +<p class="indent">"Not unless it's +the beginning of knowledge," +I said, drawing +a bow, so to speak, +at a venture. "Positive +cultch, comparative +culture, eh?"</p> + +<p class="indent"><span class="smcap">Playfair</span> stared at +me vacantly. "Cultch——" +he said; "but +no, that's part of the +lecture. Come along to +the Lords and hear it."</p> + +<div class="figleft" style="width:30%;"> +<a href="images/035a.png"><img width="100%" src="images/035a.png" alt="" /></a> <p class="center">Suggested Statues for the Vacant Niches in the +Inner Lobby.</p> + +<p class="center">No. I.—"The Majesty of the Law!"</p> +</div> + +<p class="indent">House not in condition particularly inspiring for lecturer. +Benches mostly empty; <span class="smcap">Stanley</span> of Alderley completed depletion by +rambling speech of half an hour's duration, modestly described in +Orders as "a question." Wanted to know how many lighthouses in +England and Wales paid Income Tax; how many were behindhand +with their rates; were Death Duties applicable to some of them; if +so, which; and whether the tenants compounded for rates or otherwise. +These inquiries not without interest, but <span class="smcap">Stanley</span> not chiefly +remarkable for concentration of thought or conciseness of phrase.</p> + +<p class="indent">At length <span class="smcap">Playfair's</span> turn came. A flutter of interest amongst +Peers as he was observed tugging at something in trousers pocket; +hauled out what looked like empty oyster shell.</p> + +<p class="indent">"Ah!" said <span class="smcap">Herschell</span>, smiling, "I see the lawyers have been +before us."</p> + +<p class="indent">"In moving the Second Reading of the Sea Fisheries (Shell Fish) +Bill, I propose, if I may be permitted, to give your Lordships +an object lesson. This particular shell," <span class="smcap">Playfair</span> continued, +holding it up between finger and thumb, "is covered all over with +microscopic oysters. Oysters in all stages of growth are seen there."</p> + +<p class="indent">"Well," said the <span class="smcap">Marquis of Carabas</span>, "if one had a twenty +billion magnifying glass of the kind associated with the memory of +<i>Sam Weller</i>, perhaps we might see the oysters. All I can say is, I +don't see any worth three and sixpence a dozen. <span class="smcap">Playfair</span>'s no +business to bring these things down here, filling House with smell +of stale seaweed when his oysters are no bigger than a pin's head."</p> + +<p class="indent">The <span class="smcap">Marquis</span> strode angrily forth. Others followed. Lecture cut +short.</p> + +<p class="indent"><i>Business done.</i>—Sea Fisheries (Shell Fish) Bill read a second time, +amid unexpectedly depressing circumstances.</p> + +<p class="indent"><i>House of Commons, Tuesday.</i>—<span class="smcap">Squire of Malwood</span> back after +a week's rustication. Brings glowing news of the hay crop; looks, +indeed, as if he had been helping to make it; ruddier than a +cherry; indescribable but unmistakable country air about him as +he sits on Treasury Bench with folded arms, listening to the monotonous +ripple of talk renewed on Budget Bill.</p> + +<blockquote> +<p class="indent">"Rusticus expectat dum defluat amnis,"</p> +</blockquote> + +<p class="indent">says <span class="smcap">Prince Arthur</span>, looking across at the rustic Squire.</p> + +<blockquote> +<p class="indent">"<i>At ille</i></p> + +<p class="indent">Labitur et labetur in omne volubilis ævum,"</p> +</blockquote> + +<p class="indent">added <span class="smcap">Jokim</span>, with approving glance at bench behind, where the +Busy B.'s swarm after week's rest, humming round amendments +with increased vigour.</p> + +<p class="indent">Almost imperceptible movement of river goes forward. The +blameless <span class="smcap">Bartley</span> on his feet, entrancing House with particulars of +a silver cup, prized heirloom in the humble household in Victoria +Street. It seems that one of <span class="smcap">Bartley's</span> ancestors—he who came over +with the Conqueror—had brought with him certain blades of buckwheat, +which he industriously planted out on the site, then a meadow, +on which the Army and Navy Stores now flourish. The buckwheat +grew apace. One day King <span class="smcap">Stephen</span>, passing by on a palfrey, noted +the waving green expanse. Enquiring to whom the State was +indebted for this fair prospect, a courtier informed him that it was +"the ancestor of <span class="smcap">George Christopher Trout Bartley</span>, Member +for North Islington in the thirteenth Parliament of Queen <span class="smcap">Victoria</span>."</p> + +<p class="indent">"By our sooth," said the King, "he shall have a silver cup."</p> + +<p class="indent">One was forthwith requisitioned from the nearest silversmith's, +and this it is which now adorns the sideboard in the best parlour at +St. Margaret's House, Victoria Street, S.W.</p> + +<p class="indent">These interesting reminiscences of family history <span class="smcap">George Christopher +Trout</span> recited to a charmed House in support of proposed +new Clause, moved by <span class="smcap">Dick Webster</span>, exempting from estate duty +heirlooms under settlement. <span class="smcap">Squire of Malwood</span>, usually impervious +to argument in favour of alterations in his prized Budget, +evidently moved. If <span class="smcap">Bartley</span> had only thought of bringing the cup +with him, had at this moment produced it from under his cloak, and +flashed it forth on gaze of House, the Clause would have been added, +and the cup, Estate-duty free, would have passed on through the ages, +telling its simple story to successive strata of the <span class="smcap">Bartley</span> family. +As it was, <span class="smcap">Squire</span> stood firm, and <span class="smcap">Webster's</span> Clause negatived.</p> + +<p class="indent">"Couldn't do it, my dear <span class="smcap">Webster</span>," the <span class="smcap">Squire</span> found opportunity +of saying, as he met disappointed legislator behind <span class="smcap">Speaker's</span> +Chair. "Of course I said the polite thing about <span class="smcap">Bartley's</span> Cup. +But I wasn't thinking of that. I know very well what you had in +mind in bringing in this Clause. The heirlooms you thought of are +those cups and medals you won for Cambridge when, twenty-nine +years ago, you met the Oxford Champion in the two-mile race, and +in the one-mile spin. If we could do something in the Schedules +specially exempting them I should be glad. Think it over, and see +me later."</p> + +<div class="figright" style="width:40%;"> +<a href="images/035b.png"><img width="100%" src="images/035b.png" alt="" /></a> <p class="center">An Interesting Specimen. The Coleridge Caterpillar!</p> +</div> + +<p class="indent"><span class="smcap">Webster</span> wrung the <span class="smcap">Squire's</span> hand, and passed on, saying nothing. +There are moments when speech is superfluous. 'Tis true, they +don't often occur in House of Commons; but here was one. Let us +cherish its memory. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page036" id="page036"></a>[pg 036]</span></p> + +<p class="indent"><i>Business done.</i>—Considering and negativing +new Clauses to Budget Bill.</p> + +<p class="indent"><i>Thursday.</i>—All the cheerfulness of to-day +has brightened Committee-room, where question +of issue of Writ, following on application +for Chiltern Hundreds, is considered. +The <span class="smcap">Squire</span> under examination for nearly +two hours and a-half. Difficult to say which +the more enjoyed it, the witness or the Committee.</p> + +<p class="indent">"What is the state of a Peer pending issue +of Writ of Summons?" asked the <span class="smcap">Squire</span>, +suddenly taking to interrogate the Committee +assembled to question him. "Is he a +caterpillar passing through a larva, spinning +a cocoon of silk until he reaches a condition +where they toil not neither do they spin?" +(Here, quite by accident, his glance fell upon +<span class="smcap">Joseph</span>, supposed to be sitting upon him in +judicial capacity.) "There is," he continued +(and here he glanced at <span class="smcap">Prince Arthur</span>, +smiling at the sly hit dealt at his dear friend +<span class="smcap">Joe</span>) "an opening for philosophic doubt as +to the precise condition of this impounded +Peer in his intermediary state."</p> + +<p class="indent">The House still going about with millstone +of Budget Bill round its neck, <span class="smcap">Byrne</span>, +<span class="smcap">Butcher</span>, <span class="smcap">Beach</span>, <span class="smcap">Bowles</span> and <span class="smcap">Bartley</span> +tugging at it, <span class="smcap">Kenyon-Slaney</span> now and then +uttering obvious truths with air of supernatural +wisdom. <span class="smcap">Grand Young Gardner</span> +(address Board of Agriculture, Whitehall +Place, S.W.) hands me scrap of paper; says +he found it near <span class="smcap">Squire's</span> seat on Treasury +Bench; but it doesn't look like his writing:</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>"Two modes there are, O <span class="smcap">Byrne</span> and <span class="smcap">Butcher</span>,</p> +<p class="i2">Our gratitude to earn:</p> +<p>If <span class="smcap">Byrne</span> would only burn up <span class="smcap">Butcher</span>,</p> +<p class="i2">Or <span class="smcap">Butcher</span> butcher <span class="smcap">Byrne</span>;</p> +<p>Or both combine—yes, bless their souls—</p> +<p>To burn and butcher <span class="smcap">Tommy Bowles</span>!"</p> +</div> +</div> + +<p class="indent"><i>Business done.</i>—Very little.</p> + +<p class="indent"><i>Friday.</i>—<span class="smcap">Temple</span> going about much as if +on Tuesday night he had got out of his cab +in the ordinary fashion. He didn't, you +know. Taken out in sections through the +upper window by couple of stalwart policemen. +This owing to circumstance that Irish +cab-driver having, after fashion of his +country, saved a trot for the avenue, dashed +up against kerbstone and overturned cab.</p> + +<p class="indent">"Gave me a start, of course," <span class="smcap">Temple</span> +said, as we brushed him down. "Not a +convenient way of getting out of your +hansom. What I was afraid of was being +disfigured. Am not a vain man, but don't +mind telling you, <span class="smcap">Toby</span>, a scratch or a scar +on one's face would have been exceedingly +annoying. But I'm all right, as you see. +Hope it isn't a portent. A small thing that +under this Government I should be overturned. +What I fear is, that unless we +keep our eye on them they'll overturn the +Empire."</p> + +<p class="indent"><i>Business done.</i>—Not yet done with Budget.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p class="indent"><span class="smcap">Fashionable Information and Suggestion.</span>—The +Duke and Duchess of <span class="smcap">Bedford</span> +having returned from Thorney will go to +Beds;—a delightful change, that is unless +they are rose-beds, which are proverbially +thorny. And "the Duchess of <span class="smcap">Roxburghe</span> +goes to Floors." No Beds here; only Floors. +Why not combine the two establishments +and get them both under one roof?</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<p class="indent">"<i><span class="smcap">Nihil</span> tetiqit quod non ornavit</i>," as the +prizefighter said of his right fist, after blacking +his opponent's eye and breaking the bridge +of his nose.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<p class="indent">"The Knights of Labour" seem to be +banded together against "Days of Work."</p> + +<hr /> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width:60%;"> +<a href="images/036.png"><img width="100%" src="images/036.png" alt="" /></a> <h3>CRUEL!</h3> + +<p class="indent"><i>Lucullus Brown</i> (<i>on hospitable purpose intent</i>). "<span class="smcap">Are you Dining anywhere to-morrow +night?</span>"</p> + +<p class="indent"><i>Jones</i> (<i>not liking to absolutely "give himself away"</i>). "<span class="smcap">Let me see</span>"—(<i>considers</i>)—"<span class="smcap">No; +I'm not Dining anywhere to-morrow</span>."</p> + +<p class="indent"><i>Lucullus Brown</i> (<i>seeing through the artifice</i>). "<span class="smcap">Um! Poor chap! How Hungry you +will be!</span>"</p> + + +<p class="right">["<i>Exeunt,—severally.</i>"</p> +</div> + +<hr /> + +<h2>THE ROYAL WELSH BARD.</h2> + +<blockquote class="note"> +[The Prince of <span class="smcap">Wales</span> was initiated as a Bard the +other day at the Carnarvon Eisteddfod.] +</blockquote> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>The Minstrel-Prince to his Wales has gone,</p> +<p class="i2">In the ranks of the Bards you'll find him;</p> +<p>His bardic cloak he has girded on,</p> +<p class="i2">And his tame harp slung behind him.</p> +<p>"Land of Song!" said the Royal Bard,</p> +<p class="i2">"You remarkably rum-spelt land, you,</p> +<p>One Prince at least shall try very hard</p> +<p class="i2"> To pronounce you, and understand you."</p> +</div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<p>The Prince tried hard, but the songs he heard</p> +<p class="i2">Very soon brought his proud soul under,</p> +<p>With twenty consonants packed in a word,</p> +<p class="i2">And no vowels to keep them asunder!</p> +<p>So he said to the Druid, "A word with you,</p> +<p class="i2">Your jaw must be hard as nails, Sir;</p> +<p>Your songs may do for the bold Cymru,</p> +<p class="i2">They've done for the Prince of <span class="smcap">Wales</span>, Sir!"</p> +</div> +</div> + +<hr /> + +<h2>GOOD WISHES.</h2> + +<p class="center">(<i>To Mr. and Mrs. J. M. Barrie on their +Marriage, July 9, 1894.</i>)</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>"When authors venture on a play,</p> +<p class="i2">They have been known to find them undone,</p> +<p>But Mr. <span class="smcap">Barrie</span> found the way</p> +<p class="i2">To great success in <i>Walker, London</i>.</p> +<p>A ready <span class="smcap">Toole</span> he'd close at hand,</p> +<p class="i2">And those who know her merry glance'll</p> +<p>Not find it hard to understand</p> +<p class="i2">How much was due to <span class="smcap">Mary Ansell</span>.</p> +</div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Her acting in the House-boat Scene</p> +<p class="i2">Led Mr. <span class="smcap">Barrie</span> to discover</p> +<p>He'd lost his heart (although he'd <i>been</i></p> +<p class="i2">Of Lady <span class="smcap">Nicotine</span> a lover).</p> +<p>And those who felt sweet <span class="smcap">Nanny's</span> charm,</p> +<p class="i2">Or who in Thrums delight to tarry,</p> +<p>Long happy life, quite free from harm,</p> +<p class="i2">Will wish this new-formed firm of <span class="smcap">Barrie</span>.</p> +</div> +</div> + +<hr class="full" /> + +<div class="tnote"> +<h2>Transcriber Notes:</h2> + +<p class="indent">Throughout the dialogues, there were words used to mimic accents of +the speakers. Those words were retained as-is.</p> + +<p class="indent">The illustrations have been moved so that they do not break up +paragraphs and so that they are next to the text they illustrate. Thus +the page number of the illustration might not match the page number in +the List of Illustrations, and the order of illustrations may not be the +same in the List of Illustrations and in the book.</p> + +<p class="indent">Errors in punctuations and inconsistent hyphenation were not corrected +unless otherwise noted.</p> + +<p class="indent">On page 25, "o" was changed to "to".</p> + +<p class="indent">On page 25, "Isi" was changed to "Is it".</p> + +<p class="indent">On page 31, a quotation mark was added before "'DOWN WITH".</p> + +</div> + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Punch, or the London Charivari, Volume +107, July 21st 1894, by Various + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PUNCH *** + +***** This file should be named 39770-h.htm or 39770-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/3/9/7/7/39770/ + +Produced by Punch, or the London Charivari, Malcolm Farmer, +Ernest Schaal and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team +at http://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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