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+*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 44707 ***
+
+PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.
+
+Volume 108, APRIL 20, 1895.
+
+_edited by Sir Francis Burnand_
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration: IMPROVING THE SHINING HOUR.
+
+_The New Governess._ "WHAT ARE THE COMPARATIVE AND SUPERLATIVE OF
+_BAD_, BERTY?"
+
+_Berty_ (_the Doctor's son_). "BAD--WORSE--DEAD!"]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+A CHINO-JAPANESE CALENDAR.
+
+(_For the next Ten Years._)
+
+1895. Treaty of peace signed between China and Japan, on the basis of
+the opening up of Chinese territory and introduction of machinery
+into the Celestial Empire. The Japanese prophesy that the compact will
+ultimately prove to be for the benefit of the Chinese.
+
+1896. Japan floods China with home-made merchants, who obtain an
+enormous trade.
+
+1897. England, America and France follow suit, and, after a pause, the
+remainder of the civilized world adopt the prevailing fashion.
+
+1898. Japanese China becomes over-populated, thanks to the foreign
+invasion, and there is much discontent amongst the original
+inhabitants.
+
+1899. The foreigners, having secured all the possible trade that could
+be obtained, commence the erection of manufactories.
+
+1900. Japanese China challenges Birmingham, Glasgow, Lyons, and
+Marseilles on their own ground, and holds its own. It claims to be one
+of the most productive places on the face of the universe.
+
+1901. The introduction of machinery having thrown the teeming millions
+of Japanese China out of work, there is great discontent amongst them.
+
+1902. An enterprising citizen of the United States of America
+projects an emigration scheme for supplying the outer world with the
+superfluous population of Japanese China.
+
+1903. The scheme of the citizen of the U. S. A. proves a great
+success, and sixty millions of Chino-Japanese are conveyed to the two
+worlds, the old and the new.
+
+1904. The original inhabitants of Europe and America, undersold by the
+Chino-Japanese, are ousted from their positions and left without work.
+Consequently, great prosperity of the Chino-Japanese.
+
+1905. Fulfilment of the prophecy, that the treaty of peace between
+China and Japan signed in 1895 was "really for the benefit of the
+Chinese."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+WON'T WASH!
+
+_Or, The British Laundress's Lament._
+
+    [There is talk of a company for taking our laundry-work over
+    to Holland, washing it there, and returning it to the owners
+    at a less cost than it can be done for at home.]
+
+  In matters of laundry the fault of them Dutch,
+  Is charging too little, and grabbing too much!
+  They'd collar our collars, cut off with our shirts!
+  The heart of a true washerwoman it hurts
+  To think of Frows taking _our_ time-honoured tub.
+  What, travel to Holland to get rub and scrub,
+  While soap and strong arms may in Britain be found?
+  It's worse than them Stores! Furrineers may be found
+  To do dirty work on the cheap, I've no doubt;
+  But can old JOHN BULL know just what he's about
+  In sending our work from his shores in _this_ way?
+  I'm sure it won't wash, and I 'ope it won't pay!
+  Shall we to Mynheer and his frowsy Frow truckle,
+  While one English woman has arm, wrist, and knuckle?
+  Forbid it, my sisters! My patriot 'eart
+  Is up in my mouth at this ojus new start.
+  There is an old proverb, and what do it say?
+  It is the true laundress's motter, I say.
+  But what in the world to JOHN BULL can 'ave come
+  If he can't _wash his own dirty linen at 'ome_?
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+A MISMANAGED ACCIDENT.
+
+Have just discovered that the pretty girl I met at the dance the other
+night is a lady nurse at Charing Cross Hospital. Such a nice girl!
+What a charming nurse she must be! Almost wish I was laid up at the
+hospital. In fact, quite wish it. But I can't be. Another outrage
+on the miserable, downtrodden, middle class. If I were one of the
+fortunate, pampered masses, a Working Man, I should be nursed by her,
+if I were ill, and by others, perhaps, like her. Stay! There is
+a chance. If I could be damaged in an accident--not too much
+damaged--and carried to the hospital, they must look after me, and
+nurse me. They couldn't help themselves. Northumberland Avenue--the
+very place! Never cross it without being nearly run over.
+
+Go straight there and look eagerly for the usual rushing hansoms.
+Here's one. Stroll in front of it. Driver pulls aside, shouts and
+swears at me, and goes on. Reflect that some caution is necessary. If
+the wheel went over my neck, even her ministrations would be useless.
+Must be run over judiciously. Better only be knocked down. Stroll
+across road again. Here comes one. Shouts from driver. A large splash
+of mud in my eye. And that's all. These cabmen drive so absurdly well.
+They pull up, or pull aside, or pull somewhere instantly. Wipe my eye,
+and then see something better. Old lady's brougham, from the suburbs,
+driven by the sort of coachman who also works in the garden. He won't
+be able to pull aside quickly. Stroll in front of horse. Shouts from
+gardening coachman. Horse nearly on me. Suddenly pulled back by fussy
+policeman, who says I had a narrow escape. Hang the fellow, of course
+I did! Am obliged to give him ten shillings for his prompt action.
+Begin to despair of this accident. Stroll on nearly to Embankment.
+Immense van coming along at a trot. Much too heavy. I should be
+smashed flat. And this driver seems to want to run over me. Escape
+with difficulty by jumping aside. At that moment something hits my
+legs, I am thrown down, and a wheel passes over my foot. It is a
+costermonger's donkey-cart which was racing the van. How ignominious!
+To be knocked down by a donkey and run over by a truck! Very painful
+too. Feel as if I should faint. Picked up by sympathetic people who
+rush to me. Say feebly to them, "Take me to the hospital." Then faint.
+
+After a short time open my eyes. Am being carried in somewhere. At
+last! I shall forget the pain. I am in the hospital. She will nurse
+me! _She_--oh, heavens! Though I have planned it all, suppose I ought
+to murmur, "Where am I?" Do so. "In St. Thomas's Hospital," says
+somebody.
+
+_A fortnight later._--And I am in it still.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+According to a paragraph last week in the _Westminster Gazette_,
+quoting from the _Australian Review of Reviews_, it appears that the
+Earl of YARMOUTH has been making a sensation in the Colonies as a
+"Skirt-dancer." Queer fish this nobleman! belongs to the Bloater
+Aristocracy.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+A NOBLE PLUNGER.--One day last week in the _Times_ appeared an article
+headed "_Lord Rayleigh on Waves_." Rather early for sea-bathing, eh?
+Evidently so, such prominence having been given to the fact by the
+leading journal.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration: "BETTER LATE THAN NEVER.
+
+_Mr. Punch_ (_welcoming Miss Spring-time_). 'GLAD TO SEE YOU, MY DEAR!
+BEGAN TO THINK YOU WERE NEVER COMING!"]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration: "ANIMAL SPIRITS."
+
+No. XI.--AFTER BANK HOLIDAY.]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"BETTER LATE THAN NEVER."
+
+_Mr. Punch to Miss Spring_:--
+
+  Well, here you are at last, dear! _Are_ the biting blizzards past, dear?
+    And _will_ you guarantee us from subjection to the plumber?
+  Will no casual icy splinter from the serried spears of Winter
+    Put a chill upon your smile, and spoil the promise of the Summer?
+  We've been waiting worn and weary, till e'en cuckoo-songs sound cheery,
+    And belated almond-blossoms show like roses of Cashmere:
+  And the cockney chaunt now flowing, "All-a-blowing _and_ a-growing!"
+    Falls far sweeter than MASCAGNI upon London's longing ear.
+  Where on earth have you been hiding? We are in no mood for chiding,
+    But mid-April's _rather_ late, dear, for what should have come in March!
+  What malignant hocus-pocus has kept back the plucky crocus,
+    Whose gold is scarce yet bursting from the beds the winds still parch?
+  After that six weeks cold snap, dear, of fast frozen pipe and tap, dear,
+    When back to barbarism and to bathlessness fate drove us,
+  And we sicklier grew, and surlier, if you'd come a _leetle_ earlier,--
+    Well, let bygones now be bygones! But O Spring sweet! an you love us,
+  Come--at last, dear--_à la_ HERRICK, with such influence atmospheric
+    As will slay the Influenza; with such fragrance from your flowers,
+  As will knock Malaria silly; let your dear daffydown-dilly
+    From our bodies drive bacilli, and the blight from out our bowers.
+  Slay our Microbes, Spring, and bless us! Like a clinging Shirt of Nessus
+    Morbid sickliness surrounds us in our lives, our books, our art.
+  Oh, if sunshine and your breezes might but slay our soul-diseases,
+    Oust the pestilent miasma that pervades the home, the mart;
+  Neutralise the nauseous virus whose developments so tire us;
+    Disinfect the New Parnassus, purge the New Pierian Spring,
+  Bring us honesty and health, dear, why for all our wit and wealth, dear,
+    We might love like Nature's lovers, and like Nature's poets sing.
+  Ah! we need Spring's prophylactic!--But I'm getting too didactic
+    For a sunny April morning, and a sweet young thing like you.
+  My dear, the London Season, wrapped and furred out of all reason,
+    Has been waiting, decked like Winter, with a nose-tip nearly blue;
+  Waiting, waiting for your coming. Sweet as bees in clover humming
+    Is the first sound of your footfall. Most spontaneous of passions
+  Is the love for you, you darling. You will bring the thrush and starling,
+    And the young leaves and the young lambs, and, what's better--
+      _the Spring Fashions_!!!
+  So no wonder that she greets you with effusion when she meets you.
+    Ah, Spring! 'tis not your lilacs, and your daffodils and stocks,
+  Or the tender leaves the trees on, that most moves Miss London Season,
+    'Tis the hope of "rippin'" frolics and the thought of "trotty" frocks.
+  But an old man's heart, my treasure, beats to quite another measure,
+    Still my sympathies, dear Spring, are with the youngsters and with you.
+  They are looking for love's playtime, and the merry, merry May-time,
+    And the popular R.A. time, and the whole tohu-bohu!
+  Bring the girls delights as dowry, may their social paths be flowery,
+    And your silver drops the only tears they need to look upon.
+  So they're wholesome, may they flourish; and may all Spring influence nourish
+    True manhood and pure womanhood, and--there, my preaching's done!
+  We need a true _Spring Clean_, sweet. Give us parks and gardens green, sweet.
+    And laughter, like your bird-songs pure, un-satyr-like, though clever,
+  Bless our boys, our girls, our babies, yes--_and bring us back our JABEZ_,
+    And we'll pardon your delay, and say 'tis better late than never!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+OPPORTUNITY LOST BY MR. JUSTICE HAWKINS DURING A RECENT CASE WHEN
+HIS LORDSHIP MIGHT HAVE PUT IT TO THE JURY.--"Gentlemen, what is the
+difference, or, as there has been no quarrel, let us say what is the
+distinction between a costumier and a butcher anxious to arrange his
+shop-front to the best advantage? Gentlemen, I will not detain you,
+it is this: The costumier meets out the dresses; the butcher 'dresses
+out' the meats. Gentlemen, you are discharged."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+TO CHARITABLE CHESS-PLAYERS.--A good move at Easter time is--"cheque
+to his Bishop."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+BLIND ALLEY-GORIES.
+
+BY DUNNO WÄHRIAR.
+
+(_Translated from the original Lappish by Mr. Punch's own Hyperborean
+Enthusiast._)
+
+INTRODUCTORY NOTE.
+
+IT affords me no ordinary gratification to be the humble instrument in
+rendering these exquisitely obscure prose-poems--reeking as they
+are with the self-consciousness of so magnificently triumphant
+an Ego--into the English tongue, though I am fully aware of the
+difficulty of preserving all the mystical unintelligibility of the
+original.
+
+DUNNO WÄHRIAR is perhaps the most remarkable personality that his
+native Lapland has yet produced. He first saw the light on April 1,
+1879, at Kandalax, so that he may still be called comparatively young.
+His impressionable, sensitive soul broke out in early revolt against
+the train-oil and tallow which formed the traditionary nutriment of
+his family circle, and in 1883 we find him casting off the shackles
+of conventionality and escaping to Sweden in his sledge-perambulator.
+There he has lived ever since, and has already secured a foremost
+place among the greatest physiological psychologists of Scandinavia.
+As a morbid pathologist, he surpasses STRINDBERG; while in neurotic
+sensitivism, he has hustled HANSSON into a back seat; easily
+beaten BJÖRNSON in diagnosis of the elusive emotions; and taken the
+indigestible cake of slack-baked symbolism from the master hand
+of IBSEN himself! Small wonder, then, that the commonest penwiper
+containing issues from his pen is eagerly sought after by admirers of
+such effusions.
+
+He belongs ('tis true) to the Literary Upper Crust, and is for the few
+rather than the many; while so absolute has been his fidelity to the
+principles of his art, that he has published every one of his works at
+a considerable pecuniary loss.
+
+Need I say more to ensure for him that respectful admiration which the
+public is ever ready to lavish upon anything they fail to understand?
+
+Let me rather efface myself and leave DUNNO WÄHRIAR--or "Young
+GARNAWAY," as is his self-adopted pseudonym--to unfold the rhythmic
+charm of his own inimitable incomprehensibility.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+BLIND ALLEY-GORY THE FIRST.
+
+THE LOST BACKBONE.
+
+One summer evening, when the moon was at the full, and cloud-shadows
+glided imperceptibly over the chimney-pots, as curses that have found
+no utterance and come dejectedly home to roost, I wandered into my
+back-garden, and caught the God of the Period napping in the moonshine
+on one of my celery-beds.
+
+He rose up suddenly and reposed awhile in space, with his head resting
+on the back of the Great Bear, and one foot on the arm of Cassiopeia's
+Chair, while with the other he skimmed the cream off the Milky Way.
+And he seemed to be everywhere and yet nowhere in particular, and
+he said nothing, and I was afraid to make a remark--and there was no
+sound, save that of the boundless, inconceivable silence which was
+rumbling round the corner.
+
+Presently he came down to the celery-bed once more.
+
+"What are you seeking for so late?" asked he; "your face looks so long
+and solemn, and your eyes are hollow and full of woe. Have you been
+having anything indigestible for supper?"
+
+"I am in trouble about Humanity," I replied; "for, though I loathe and
+despise them individually, collectively I love them dearly."
+
+"What's the matter with Humanity?" asked the God, as he squatted amid
+the celery.
+
+"They are growing so deadly dull," I answered. "I am Young GARNAWAY,
+the Pessimistic Prose Poet, and it pains me to see how utterly they
+have lost their perception of the ridiculous, which is the backbone of
+real enjoyment. So I came out to see if by any chance the backbone was
+hidden under one of the flower-pots."
+
+The Period-God once more pervaded the endless space that glittered in
+darkling infinitude round about and right ahead of him. It seemed to
+me, when he returned, that he had been laughing; but suddenly I saw
+him pull himself together, and frown.
+
+And from afar a gurgling rose through the gloom, and darkness fell
+upon my back-garden, knocking a basilisk off the waterbutt, and above
+the garden-walls there appeared a crowd of rude persons, in pot hats,
+with red lolling tongues and wide grinning mouths, holding their sides
+with inextinguishable mirth. All at once the giggles turned into the
+booing of Philistines, and there was a fantastic shadowy horseplay,
+which rolled nearer and nearer.
+
+I saw many myriads of spectral kitten forms, and unsubstantial egg
+shapes rushing towards me through the air. Instinctively I ran indoors
+and gripped the umbrella from its corner, and stood on guard.
+
+[Illustration: "I saw many myriads of spectral kitten forms and
+unsubstantial egg-shapes."]
+
+Then I heard someone chuckling quite close to me, chuckling softly,
+but unmistakably. And the booing hushed, and the gloom lightened, and
+the garden-roller glimmered faintly in the moonlit summer night,
+and inside the lawn-mower lay the God of the Period crying with
+uncontrollable laughter.
+
+"When the time comes," he said, "when mankind gets weary of Paraded
+Pessimism, and the Big Scandinavian Boom has burst, then I will
+conjure forth the Great Guffaw; and _then_ it will be time for all
+Dyspeptic Decadents to get under their umbrellas--just as you did
+awhile ago, for mankind will have recovered its sense of humour, and
+will decline to take them seriously. But you had much better leave off
+bothering your head about that lost backbone, for you won't be happy
+when they get it!"
+
+And while I was taking off my goloshes indoors, I heard again the
+sound of snapping celery sticks, as the Period-God rolled on the bed
+in ecstasies of stifled merriment, and I wondered at intervals what it
+was all about.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+FOR OUTWARD APPLICATION.--"'A man may change his skies,' as the Roman
+poet puts it," quoth the _Daily Telegraph_, "but he does not so easily
+change his habits." The Academy is about to open. The pictures will
+soon be hung. Varnishing day comes, with last chance for alteration.
+Then comes in Latin poetic proverb, "A man may change his skies, but,
+do what he will, he cannot alter that peculiar style that marks the
+work as his, and nobody else's."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+NEW PROVERB.--All "problem" and no "play" makes drama a dull joy.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration: SHOCKING HEATHENISM.
+
+_Rector._ "SO YOU GO UP TO TOWN NEXT MONTH, MISS MARY. HOW I ENVY YOU!
+AND OF COURSE YOU'LL ATTEND THE MAY MEETINGS."
+
+_Miss Mary._ "MAY MEETINGS? OH DEAR NO! THOUGH I ADORE HORSES, I QUITE
+DISAPPROVE OF _RACING_, DON'T YOU KNOW!"]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+OUR BOOKING-OFFICE.
+
+The Baron heartily welcomes the appearance of _Happy Thoughts_ in
+French, under the very attractive style and title of _Fridoline_. No
+fear now of the _entente cordiale_ between England and France being
+disturbed; and that is indeed _une "pensée" la plus "heureuse" ou
+"ingénieuse."_ The dialogue with the patient angler who remains in the
+middle of the stream day after day, and, probably, night after night,
+is quite a little lesson in French.
+
+[Illustration: "Fridoline."]
+
+"_'Pris quelque chose?' 'Rien.' 'Pas mordu du tout?' 'Une fois, je
+crois.' Le pêcheur n'a pas perdu son calme, mais son air n'a rien de
+triomphant._"
+
+And the world goes on and the _mouvement_ continues, and ever and anon
+the Happy Thoughter, returning to the river, finds the same man in the
+same boat in almost the same position. Then, before retiring for the
+night, the H. T. takes one turn on the lawn, "_pour m'assurer_," he
+says, "_que je ne laisse rien derrière moi. Ah si! je laisse l'homme
+au bachot, toujours sa ligne en main. Il avait, paraît-il, un pen
+redescendu le courant. 'Bonne pêche?' 'Non.' 'Pris quelque chose?'
+'Rien.'_" Those who read "_entre les lignes_" may see in this figure
+of unrewarded patience and perseverance more than meets the eye.
+M. AURELIEN DE COURSON has done his work excellently well, "_avec
+l'autorisation de l'auteur_."
+
+I found a book on my table lying among a number of others put aside to
+be read at "a more convenient season." The title attracted me--_Clove
+Pink_. Its leaves are of last autumn, but the story they tell is for
+ever. It is admirably written; its word-painting is the work of a
+true artist: but beginning brightly and gladly, as do the lives of
+the young hero and heroine, it ends sadly but sweetly. If you are not
+averse to a simple, well-told tale, with stirring incidents of modern
+warfare, graphically narrated, that stand out in startling contrast
+to the scenes of quiet English rural life, a story whose pathos and
+simple truth will touch you deeply, read _Clove Pink_, says
+
+  THE BARON DE BOOK-WORMS.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+VERY CATCHING.
+
+In the _Times_ of Monday, April 8, appeared an advertisement headed
+"Lent, Lent--Fish, Fish." This meant, of course, that the season was
+Lent, not that the fishmonger was a lender of fish. And for the season
+it was Holy Week, _i.e._ last week of Lent. Then it goes on "_Have you
+ordered your Good Friday's Dinner?_ If not, do so at once." Excellent
+and most timely advice, seeing it was given on the Monday preceding
+Good Friday. So far so good; but then comes "a reason why" which
+apparently quite upsets the kettle of fish. Here is the extract:--
+
+    "Having made contracts with a number of the leading trawl and
+    line fishermen to take the whole of their prime fish caught
+    during Easter week," &c., &c.
+
+[Illustration:
+  "To-morrow will be Fry day,
+  So we'll catch our fish to-day."
+
+             _Somebody's Song._
+]
+
+What on earth is the good of fish caught in Easter Week to the persons
+who have ordered it for the previous Friday? That's where the trouble
+is. The fishmonger is at sea as well as his good fishermen. If the
+advertisement had been headed "Lent and Easter," then it would have
+been evident that two different subjects were being dealt with, and
+"both caught with one fish," as Mrs. R. might say, adapting a proverb.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+TEMPERATE TO INTEMPERATE.
+
+  Fanatic sophistries, I think,
+    To logic's limits will have shrunk,
+  When zealot's recognize that "drink"
+    Is _not_ identical with "drunk."
+  Difference may be as great you see,
+    'Twixt U and I as You and Me!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+WORDSWORTH FOR WITLERS.--"Drink, pretty creature, drink!"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration: SOCIAL AGONIES.
+
+_Anxious Musician_ (_in a whisper, to Mrs. Lyon Hunter's butler_).
+"WHERE'S MY 'CELLO?"
+
+_Butler_ (_in stentorian tones, to the room_). "SIGNOR WERESMICELLO!"]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+THE NEW ENGLISH ART CLUB.
+
+The other day I went to this exhibition of sublime masterpieces. I was
+about to write a few comments, full of strange epithets and gushing
+praise, when a small girl came in with a lady. The child spoke so
+freely that I paused to listen. This was her criticism. "Oh, mother,
+what's that meant for? I can't see anything. Look at that lady! She's
+got no face at all. Oh, look at that other! She's funnier. What is
+she? A Spanish dancer? Do all Spanish dancers have knobbly faces like
+you might make out of a potato? What are those people skating on? Is
+it cotton wool? Oh, mother, look there! What an ugly lady! Why's she
+put all that red on her cheeks? What's all that other red there? Is it
+another lady? A church in Venice? What Olympia where you took me two
+years ago? Oh, mother, it can't be a church! Unless it's upside down.
+Or perhaps all the paints have run into one another like mine do. Oh,
+look! There's a picture of a washstand. Is it an advertisement of a
+furniture shop? Or is it meant for what father calls a slight wash
+in his water-colour drawings? What are those ladies dancing in sheets
+for? Is it sheets they've got on? Oh what a red face that gentleman's
+got! I don't think they paint very pretty ladies or gentlemen here.
+Oh, mother, look at that! Why it's the funniest of all! Who are the
+two ladies? Why are their clothes slipping down? Why are their faces
+all crooked, and their eyes sideways? Are they meant to be pretty? I
+don't think they are. What do you say it is? Meant to be painted on
+the wall of a room? Is that why they look so funny? Why they look like
+Aunt KITTY, when she's going to have a sea bath, and when----" Here
+the little maiden was suddenly dragged out of the room, and her shrill
+voice was heard no more. But her winged words are not forgotten by
+
+  A CRUSHED CRITIC.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+AN EASTER 'OLIDAY.
+
+    (_A Siesta Song, from the Burlesque Opera "Little Liberal
+    Majority," performed at the Theatre Royal, St. Stephen's._)
+
+  AIR--"_Lazily, Drowsily._"
+
+  When gaily dances the Easter sun,
+    And shelved is each bothersome Bill,
+  Then work and talk for a time are done,
+    And the lobbies are hushed and still.
+            Lazily, lazily,
+            Drowsily, drowsily,
+          Home goes every one;
+            Lazily, lazily,
+            Drowsily, drowsily,
+          Under the April sun.
+          Old St. Stephen's closes;
+          Parliament reposes,
+            Lazily, lazily,
+            Drowsily, drowsily,
+          Forty winks, or fun!
+
+  When the sunlight falls on the Heath's green breast,
+    And blue are the skies above,
+  Each seeks the rest that he loves the best,
+    Or the sport he doth chiefly love.
+  Lazily, lazily, drowsily, drowsily,
+    Donkey riding's fun!
+  Lazily, lazily, drowsily, drowsily,
+    Dawdling under the sun!
+    HARCOURT'S eyelid closes,
+    BALFOUR blandly dozes;
+  Lazily, lazily, drowsily, drowsily,
+    Under the Easter sun!
+
+  Joggle and jolt! _These_ mokes won't bolt!
+    Each flops like an empty sack
+  On the broad back, shaggy as Shetland colt.
+    No donkey boy on _their_ track!
+  Lazily, lazily, drowsily, drowsily,
+    Carelessly jogging on!
+  Lazily, lazily, drowsily, drowsily,
+    Under an Easter sun!
+    Lotos-Land discloses
+    No more bland reposes.
+  Lazily, lazily, drowsily, drowsily,
+    Dawdle they under the sun!
+
+  "That LABBY was often a bore!" sighs WILL,
+    Groans ARTY, "And so was JOE!
+  To drive _these_ donkeys demands small skill!
+    Would Westminster mokes were so!
+  Lazily, lazily, drowsily, drowsily!
+    Riding like this is fun!
+  Lazily, lazily, drowsily, drowsily!
+    Bless us! Who _wants_ to run?
+    'Appy 'Ampstead dozes!
+    Mokes are beds of roses!
+  Lazily, lazily, drowsily, drowsily,
+    Jog we--till holiday's done!"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"THE OBJECTION TO EUCLID" of which we have heard so much recently is
+of very ancient standing, and is shared by nearly every schoolboy.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+PARLIAMENTARY PROVERB.--There's many a slip 'twixt the M.P. and the
+"Whip"!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration: AN EASTER 'OLIDAY.
+
+_Duet_ ('ARCOURT _and_ HARTHUR _sing while being jolted_).
+
+"LA-A-ZI-LY LA-A-ZI-LY! DROW-OW-OW-SILY! DROW-OW-OW-SILY!" &c.]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+MR. PUNCH AT A PICTURE SHOW.
+
+    (_The Collection of Sir John Tenniel's Drawings at the Fine
+    Art Society's Gallery._)
+
+  AIR.--"_My Old Friend John._"
+
+  'Tis forty years, my dear Sir JOHN,
+    Since you and I first met.
+  Lord, how the fleeting hours have flown!
+    But we foregather yet,
+  I gaze on this brave show with pride--
+    Fine art, still in full feather!
+  By Jove, it seems but yesterday
+    Since we were "boys" together.
+
+  Since we were boys, merry, merry boys,
+    At our old Board together!
+
+  There's gladness in remembrance, JOHN;
+    Your pencil-strokes struck true;
+  Through all the shifts of party life,
+    No pause that pencil knew.
+  We've missed old comrades one by one;
+    Our friendship moults no feather;
+  _Can_ forty years and more have run
+    Since we were "boys" together?
+
+  Since we were boys, merry, merry boys,
+    At our old Board together!
+
+  I gaze and proudly ponder, JOHN;
+    I've seen them all before--
+  GLADSTONE, BRIGHT, DIZZY, BULL!--Well done!!!
+    Fresh as in days of yore
+  The Big Cuts gleam. By sea and stream,
+    Moor, mountain, ice-field, heather.
+  Force, grace, fair fun mark all you've done,
+    Since we were "boys" together.
+
+  _Chorus all "Round the Mahogany Tree."_
+
+  Since we were boys, merry, merry boys!
+    So meet we, in full feather,
+  For many sunny years, Sir JOHN,
+    Still boys--at heart--together!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration: FANCY PORTRAIT.
+
+SIR G-RGE L-W-S.
+
+  "BOLD OF YOUR WORTHINESS, WE SINGLE YOU
+  AS OUR BEST-MOVING FAIR SOLICITOR."
+
+  _Love's Labour's Lost_, Act II., Sc. 1.
+]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+THE LAY OF THE LITTLE MINORITY.
+
+AIR--"_Little Buttercup._"
+
+  I'm bumptious Minority--cocky Minority
+    (Though I can hardly tell why),
+  My work is to worry poor weary Majority,
+    Giving him one in the eye.
+
+  On Board or on Council I swagger and bounce 'll,
+    And badger 'em out of their lives.
+  I claim all the graces, and all the best places;
+    Thus cocky Minority thrives!
+
+  Majorities little of claim have no tittle
+    To getting _their_ own wicked way;
+  But cocky Minority has such authority,
+    _His_ should be absolute sway.
+
+  If things are at evens at--well, say St. Stephen's,
+    Spring Gardens, wherever you like,
+  Tis a mere deadlock (like New Woman wedlock),
+    And against Progress we strike.
+
+  If a Majority (small) claims authority
+    To make the tiniest move,
+  Then to prevent it, obstruct, circumvent it,
+    Must be my labour of love.
+
+  But a Minority's superiority
+    Is just as clear as the day.
+  Majorities (small) have one duty, that's all,
+    'Tis--_to let the Minority sway!_
+
+  Then yield to Minority--cocky Minority,
+    On Boards or of Council or School!
+  Hooray for Minority--bumptious Minority!
+    Come--let Minority rule!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+OUR NEXT LITTLE BATTLE.
+
+(_From our Prophetic Reporter, a trifle in advance._)
+
+NOWHAR, _April 1_.--Wett River crossed yesterday in most brilliant
+style. Dashaway Regiment carried landing at point of bayonet, the
+Muffs keeping up well-directed fire during the entire operation.
+However, they seemed to feel effect of our artillery and Maxims.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+When landing effected, Sapping Miners constructed iron bridge
+(with glass covering to protect the troops from the rain) within
+five-and-twenty minutes. During the construction Muffs fired
+continuously at working parties. Flag-staffs riddled with shot,
+consequently colours could not be run up. A round from couple of
+quick-firing guns cleared heights of human obstructions.
+
+On completion of bridge, two troops of 147th Irregular Prancers
+charged enemy with much dash. As gallant horsemen approached Muffs
+(numbering about twenty thousand) concentrated their fire. For few
+minutes Irregulars had to pass through perfect fog of bullets. This
+ordeal did not damp their courage; soon came to close quarters with
+foe. In a moment Muffs were in confusion, flying, before pursuing
+sabres. Irregulars followed retreating enemy for many miles with
+complete success.
+
+While these operations being carried out 17th Battalion of
+Cutandthrust Regiment made assault on fortress protecting right flank
+of Muffs. Enemy opposed charge with well-sustained artillery fire,
+which had it been more judiciously directed might have caused
+considerable annoyance. As it was, many Cutandthrusts lowered their
+heads to allow of undisturbed passage of shrapnell. On reaching
+walls redcoats hopped over like birds. Garrison stubbornly defended
+position. Cutandthrusts extended, advancing in their new formation.
+With wild cheer they again charged. Although this advance caused
+Muffs to fall back, they still retained their ground. At this moment
+machine-guns of battalion were brought into play with best results. A
+couple of rounds immediately broke up enemy's columns and put them
+to flight. Muffs were then routed by 53rd Regiment of Indian Tiger
+Eaters.
+
+By midday position secured. At invitation of bugles exploring party
+"ceased firing," and prepared for mess.
+
+_Later._--I have just received a return of killed and wounded on both
+sides, which I here give:--_Muffs._--Killed, about 20,000; wounded,
+twice as many more. _British._--Killed, none; wounded, No. 35,604,821
+Private SMITH (Cutandthrust Regiment), slight scratch on fourth finger
+of left hand.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+NEW NAME FOR IT (_by Brother Bung_).--Local Hop-shun!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+ALL THE DIFFERENCE.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+  If half the things that CHLOE says to me,
+  If half the pretty kindnesses she shows,
+    By PHYLLIDA were shown or said,
+  Without a tremor I would stake my head
+    That I securely might propose
+      That she my bride would be.
+
+  Yet why? I know full well that CHLOE means
+  Nothing at all. 'Tis but her buoyant way,
+    Her frank "The best of friends, that's all."
+  And yet the stricter GRUNDY 'twould appal
+    To hear the tender things we say
+      Between our quarrel-scenes.
+
+  If one full-leaping pulse's beat
+    Beyond the coldest courtesy's demand
+    I trespass on sweet PHYLLIDA'S coy hand,
+  The thrill is shivered by her quick retreat,
+  Her fingers stiffen like a fossil fin,
+  And I again, a SISYPHUS, begin
+  The task of charming her reserve austere,
+    Palsied by Love's false fear,
+  Which drives the lover's chances down to zero.
+  While some cadaverous and long-chinn'd hero
+  Talks from a height rais'd by his own conceit,
+  And my white goddess listens at his feet.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration: PREHISTORIC PEEPS.
+
+THERE WERE SEASONS (CORRESPONDING TO OUR EASTER, &C.) WHEN THE
+INHABITANTS OF ONE ACCORD GAVE THEMSELVES UP TO RELAXATION AND
+AMUSEMENT!]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+LINES IN PLEASANT PLACES.
+
+THE LAND OF DREAMS.
+
+  There's a wondrous fairy kingdom
+    Whither all may take a trip--
+  Quite an inexpensive journey,
+    It is not by rail or ship--
+  For it lies just where you fancy,
+    And a pleasant thing it seems
+  For a man to sojourn sometimes
+    In the land of dreams.
+
+  'Tis the land where man attaineth
+    To the end of his desire,
+  Where the minor poet warbles
+    And the laurel crowns his lyre:
+  It is there the sucking statesman
+    Works out Machiavellian schemes,
+  And young BRIEFLESS is a leader
+    In the land of dreams.
+
+  'Tis the land of fur and feather,
+    'Tis the paradise of sport,
+  Where the runs beat all recounted
+    O'er the walnuts and the port:
+  It is there the pheasant rockets,
+    It is there the covert teems,
+  And your powder's always straightest
+    In the land of dreams.
+
+  There with ease the patient golfer
+    Plays a record medal-round,
+  And the batsman get his hundred,
+    Hitting clean all round the ground;
+  There old IZAAK'S keen disciple
+    Thrashes quite ideal streams,
+  For he angles most "compleatly"
+    In the land of dreams.
+
+  'Tis a land where someone meets you
+    You may never meet elsewhere,
+  'Tis a land where words are whispered
+    You may whisper only there;
+  'Tis the home of youth and sunshine
+    Where you taste of joy's extremes,
+  For, of course, there's someone loves you
+    In the land of dreams.
+
+  'Tis a land of peace and quiet,
+    Free from yelling paper-boys,
+  And from Germany's musicians,
+    And offensive kinds of noise:
+  There the organ-grinder grinds not,
+    There no restive infant screams.
+  Oh, to spend one's whole existence
+    In the land of dreams!
+
+  'Tis a land where rates and taxes
+    Never need be brooded on,
+  And the cupboard is unfurnished
+    With the homely skeleton:
+  There the roses all are thornless,
+    Life is destitute of seams,
+  And, in short, its worth the living
+    In the land of dreams.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+TO A PRETTY GIRL.
+
+(_Who accepted some verses._)
+
+  You take my lines, and say that you
+    Appreciate my humble verses.
+  That's more than editors will do,
+    Or publishers, with bloated purses.
+  To gain your thanks in such a way,
+  I'd write you verses night and day.
+
+  _You_ don't return them, saying you
+    Regret you cannot now accept them.
+  Or, scrawled with marks in blatant blue,
+    To show that, ruined, you have kept them.
+  If you would pay me with a smile,
+  I'd write you verses by the mile.
+
+  If you could only say that you
+    Would like me for my admiration,
+  To sing your charms till all was blue
+    Would be delightful occupation.
+  If I could hope to win a kiss,
+  I'd write you fifty miles like this.
+
+[Illustration.]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration: _First Boy._ "GIVE US A BITE OF YOUR APPLE, BOB."
+
+_Second Boy._ "SHAN'T."
+
+_First Boy._ "WHAT FOR?"
+
+_Second Boy._ "'COS YER AXED ME!"
+
+(_After a pause._)
+
+_Small Boy._ "GI' ME A BITE, BOB. I NEVER AXED YER!"]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+ESSENCE OF PARLIAMENT.
+
+EXTRACTED FROM THE DIARY OF TOBY, M.P.
+
+_House of Commons, Monday Night, April 8._--House to-night presented
+that appearance seen only on big occasions. Long unfamiliar in slough
+of despond in which present House been steeped since Session opened.
+Every seat on either side occupied. Members sitting on Gangway steps,
+flooding the side galleries, blocking the Bar, peopling even the steps
+of the Chair. ARTHUR PEEL is leaving historic stage graced through
+eleven years in fashion that has added fresh fame to an illustrious
+name. On ordinary occasions when SPEAKER rises to address House on
+current topics of business, Members who chance to have their hats on
+keep them there. Now, when the stately figure is discovered standing
+under the canopy of the Chair, Members without concert, but with one
+accord, bare their heads. Throughout a moving scene, which
+crammed much into fifteen minutes, nothing more striking than this
+simultaneous, swift uncovering of the head, and the transformation
+that followed when the rare sunlight, streaming in from western
+windows, fell upon five hundred unshaded faces all turned towards the
+tall, gowned figure standing by the Chair.
+
+The speech will be read to-morrow by millions, who will find it word
+for word and sentence by sentence in the newspapers. But the reader
+will gain but faint idea of the impression the delivery produced. The
+historic place, the animated scene, the electric current of such a
+gathering, were much. The effect was perfected by the elocution of
+the SPEAKER, perhaps the most perfect development of an attractive but
+dangerous art possessed by living man.
+
+What possibilities underlie its possession were wonderingly recognised
+in the last days of the late Parliament, when the directors of the
+Cambrian Railway Company were brought to the Bar of the House in
+connection with the dismissal of a station-master who had given
+unwelcome evidence before a Select Committee. House in the ludicrous
+pickle which invariably follows on Privilege proceedings. Directors
+summoned to attend were somewhere in the lobby. If it had
+been permissible to follow _Dogberry's_ example in similar
+circumstances--to take no note of directors, but let them go and
+presently call the rest of the watch together, and thank God they
+were rid of the knaves--it would have been well. But, directors
+being solemnly summoned, must needs be adequately dealt with. Finally
+resolved that SPEAKER should admonish them. Amid much giggling on part
+of hysterically uneasy House, conscious of its own ludicrous position,
+directors brought in and ranged at Bar. Then SPEAKER stood up and
+"most seriously admonished" them.
+
+No one present will forget the awesome mien, the terrible voice, with
+which the task was performed. At a touch farce was transformed into
+tragedy. Dignity of House, sorely imperilled, triumphantly vindicated.
+To-night the SPEAKER'S phrasing was perfect. Its setting in the
+delivery is untranslateable in speech or written word.
+
+_Business done._--Speaker announces resignation. SQUIRE OF MALWOOD
+brings in Local Veto Bill.
+
+_Tuesday._--"Poof!" said SARK, mopping his brow; "glad that's over. No
+knowing where it might have ended. Danger of last scene in SPEAKER'S
+leave-taking closing amid burst of irritated laughter. When I was
+first returned, we thought two leaders enough for one House. There was
+the Government man on the Treasury Bench, the Leader of Opposition on
+bench opposite. When ceremonial business to be done, these two spoke
+and the whole House agreed that its opinions had found expression.
+House rapidly growing into position akin to home forces of Prince of
+MONACO. Nearly as many captains as privates."
+
+These remarks wrung from troubled breast by long, at one anxious
+moment apparently interminable, procession of orators in support of
+resolution thanking retiring SPEAKER for services in Chair. SQUIRE OF
+MALWOOD said right thing in admirable way. PRINCE ARTHUR, less ornate
+in phrase, supplied a perfect second. These speeches voiced feeling
+of Ministerialists and Opposition. Some reasonableness in JUSTIN
+MCCARTHY'S interposition, he being leader of distinct party which, as
+he hinted, had in earlier days done battle with SPEAKER. But really,
+when it came to JOSEPH saying a few words for his merry men, and JOHN
+REDMOND tuning afresh the Irish harp on behalf of his, prospect grew
+alarming. If these leaders of sections within a division felt called
+upon to make speeches on such occasion, why not JOHN BURNS as a Labour
+Leader, with KEIR HARDIE to follow as captain of the Independent
+Labour Party; OSBORNE MORGAN, purged of profligacy, speaking for
+Wales, followed by LLOYD-GEORGE from below the Gangway; WILFRID LAWSON
+for the Temperance party; Private HANBURY as representing the land
+forces of the Busy B's; Cap'en TOMMY BOWLES the naval; JACOB BRIGHT
+returning thanks for the ladies, WALTER M'LAREN speaking specially
+for the section who desire to marry their deceased husband's
+brother? Domesticity thus trenched upon, Baron DE WORMS, with wistful
+"Long-Lost-Dear-Father" look on his face, might close the list by a
+few words spoken on behalf of the family circle.
+
+To-day stopped a little short of this; but shall doubtless go
+the whole way next time opportunity presents itself. _Business
+done._--Thanks of House voted to SPEAKER.
+
+_Wednesday._--By contrast with ordered speech-making of yesterday
+afternoon scene that took place in earliest moments of the new day's
+birth prettier by far. For upwards of an hour Members passing out
+homewards stopped to shake the SPEAKER'S hand and bid him farewell.
+Just before quarter of hour chimed after midnight, ARTHUR PEEL spoke
+his last words in House of Commons.
+
+"The question is," he said, "that this House do now adjourn."
+
+As he turned to leave the Chair, Members present sprang to feet,
+cheering continuously till ARTHUR PEEL, for the last time robed in
+Speaker's wig and gown, passed out of sight.
+
+  For Lochaber no more, Lochaber no more.
+  We'll maybe return to Lochaber no more.
+
+_Le roi est mort. Vive le roi._ WILLIAM COURT GULLY elected Speaker by
+majority of 11 in House of 559 Members.
+
+[Illustration: Farewell to Mr. Speaker Peel.]
+
+_Business done._--Elect new Speaker, and immediately give him ten
+days' holiday. Adjourn till Monday 22nd.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+A STUDY IN ETHNOLOGY.
+
+  Upon my luck I still reflect,
+    That led us to the same Museum:
+  I greeted you with staid respect,
+    But my heart sang its own _Te Deum_,
+  And blessed your Uncle, ere I wist,
+  For being an ethnologist!
+
+  On old Assyrian spoils intent,
+    Our very presence he forgot,
+  While we o'er strings of wampum bent--
+    We saw them and we saw them not.
+  He lived within a past long dead,
+  We, in the seconds as they sped.
+
+  Within a carven mirror old,
+    Suddenly, as we wandered by,
+  You looked upon your hair of gold
+    And flushing face, and so did I.
+  Then on we passed: a vault we found,
+  And PHARAOH'S coffin, underground.
+
+  Oh, if his phantom ever stood
+    Beside the coffin made for him,
+  And saw you in your joyous mood,
+    With your bright eyes and figure slim,
+  King PHARAOH might have envied us
+  Beside his old sarcophagus!
+
+  But, PHARAOH, we, remembering
+    The ancient creed that souls of men
+  May see the summer and the spring,
+    May live again, and love again,
+  A moment wished the tale were true,
+  Because--it seemed so hard on you!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+WANTED IN THE WORLD OF "ART."--A Spring Clean!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+TO A YOUNG ACTRESS.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+  You regret that all you do
+  Is to be a lady who
+  Just walks on--a smile or two,
+        Then you're gone;
+  For you think that any gawk
+  Would be good enough to walk,
+  You undoubtedly should talk
+        When you're "on."
+
+  You are but a sort of show.
+  Silence for a girl is slow,
+  Speech is woman's right, I know
+        That is true,
+  And although your pretty face
+  Charms beholders by its grace,
+  You would like a higher place,
+        Wouldn't you?
+
+  But we cannot all have "leads,"
+  Nicely suited to our needs,
+  To excel in words and deeds,
+        Don't you see?
+  So, if you desire to speak,
+  I am not so far to seek,
+  I would listen for a week--
+        Talk to me.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+SOMETHING YET!--"Mr. G." is a proficient in several languages. In
+Italian, as well as in Latin, in ancient and modern Greek, he can,
+we believe, converse fluently, when anyone gives him a chance.
+With Russian he may be acquainted, for, as this is "caviare to the
+general," it may be equally so to an ex-prime-minister. With Spanish
+Mr. G. is, probably, not on speaking terms, though, no doubt he is
+well up in the niceties of the language; and there are many spoken
+languages of which he possesses more than a smattering. But the
+accomplished scholar has yet something to learn from one RICHARD
+CUMBERLAND, a bishop in the last century, not the playwright, of whom
+it is on record that, being a proficient in most ancient and modern
+languages, he "began to learn Coptic at the age of eighty-three!"
+Although Mr. G. has gone very far north, yet has he not at present got
+up to CUMBERLAND.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+A SUGGESTION.--There are two excellent waters, Apollinaris and
+Johannis, known to everyone as "'Polly" and "Jo." Might not the two
+companies amalgamate, and reproduce the success of "MY 'POL' AND MY
+PARTNER 'JO.'"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+LATEST EQUIVALENT FOR "THE EAST WIND," AS REPLENISHMENT FOR HUNGRY
+STOMACHS.--The Royal Commission on the Aged Poor.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Punch, or the London Charivari, Vol.
+108, April 20, 1895, by Various
+
+*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 44707 ***
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+<div>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 44707 ***</div>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page181" id="page181"></a>[pg 181]</span></p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<h1>PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.<br />
+
+<small>Volume 108, <span class="sc">April 20, 1895</span></small><br />
+
+<span class="smaller"><i>edited by Sir Francis Burnand</i></span></h1>
+
+<hr />
+
+<div class="figcenter1" style="width: 400px;"><a href="images/181-800.png"><img src="images/181-300.png" width="300" height="452" alt="IMPROVING THE SHINING HOUR." /></a>
+<h3 class="sans">IMPROVING THE SHINING HOUR.</h3>
+
+<p><i>The New Governess.</i> "<span class="sc">What are the Comparative and Superlative
+of <i>Bad</i>, Berty?</span>"</p>
+
+<p><i>Berty</i> (<i>the Doctor's son</i>). "<span class="sc">Bad</span>&mdash;<span class="sc">Worse</span>&mdash;<span class="sc">Dead!</span>"</p></div>
+
+<hr class="medium" />
+
+<h2>A CHINO-JAPANESE CALENDAR.</h2>
+
+<p class="title1">(<i>For the next Ten Years.</i>)</p>
+
+<ul class="none">
+<li>1895. &nbsp;Treaty of peace signed between China and Japan, on the
+basis of the opening up of Chinese territory and introduction of
+machinery into the Celestial Empire. The Japanese prophesy that
+the compact will ultimately prove to be for the benefit of the Chinese.</li>
+
+<li>1896. &nbsp;Japan floods China with home-made merchants, who obtain
+an enormous trade.</li>
+
+<li>1897. &nbsp;England, America and France follow suit, and, after a
+pause, the remainder of the civilized world adopt the prevailing
+fashion.</li>
+
+<li>1898. &nbsp;Japanese China becomes over-populated, thanks to the
+foreign invasion, and there is much discontent amongst the original
+inhabitants.</li>
+
+<li>1899. &nbsp;The foreigners, having secured all the possible trade that
+could be obtained, commence the erection of manufactories.</li>
+
+<li>1900. &nbsp;Japanese China challenges Birmingham, Glasgow, Lyons,
+and Marseilles on their own ground, and holds its own. It claims to
+be one of the most productive places on the face of the universe.</li>
+
+<li>1901. &nbsp;The introduction of machinery having thrown the teeming
+millions of Japanese China out of work, there is great discontent
+amongst them.</li>
+
+<li>1902. &nbsp;An enterprising citizen of the United States of America
+projects an emigration scheme for supplying the outer world with the
+superfluous population of Japanese China.</li>
+
+<li>1903. &nbsp;The scheme of the citizen of the U. S. A. proves a great
+success, and sixty millions of Chino-Japanese are conveyed to the
+two worlds, the old and the new.</li>
+
+<li>1904. &nbsp;The original inhabitants of Europe and America, undersold
+by the Chino-Japanese, are ousted from their positions and left without
+work. Consequently, great prosperity of the Chino-Japanese.</li>
+
+<li>1905. &nbsp;Fulfilment of the prophecy, that the treaty of peace between
+China and Japan signed in 1895 was "really for the benefit of the
+Chinese."</li>
+</ul>
+
+<hr class="medium" />
+
+<h2>WON'T WASH!</h2>
+
+<p class="title1">Or, The British Laundress's Lament.</p>
+
+<p class="ind3">
+[There is talk of a company for taking our laundry-work over to Holland,
+washing it there, and returning it to the owners at a less cost than it can be
+done for at home.]
+</p>
+
+<div class="poem width24">  <div class="stanza">
+<p>In matters of laundry the fault of them Dutch,</p>
+<p>Is charging too little, and grabbing too much!</p>
+<p>They'd collar our collars, cut off with our shirts!</p>
+<p>The heart of a true washerwoman it hurts</p>
+<p>To think of Frows taking <em>our</em> time-honoured tub.</p>
+<p>What, travel to Holland to get rub and scrub,</p>
+<p>While soap and strong arms may in Britain be found?</p>
+<p>It's worse than them Stores! Furrineers may be found</p>
+<p>To do dirty work on the cheap, I've no doubt;</p>
+<p>But can old <span class="sc">John Bull</span> know just what he's about</p>
+<p>In sending our work from his shores in <em>this</em> way?</p>
+<p>I'm sure it won't wash, and I 'ope it won't pay!</p>
+<p>Shall we to Mynheer and his frowsy Frow truckle,</p>
+<p>While one English woman has arm, wrist, and knuckle?</p>
+<p>Forbid it, my sisters! My patriot 'eart</p>
+<p>Is up in my mouth at this ojus new start.</p>
+<p>There is an old proverb, and what do it say?</p>
+<p>It is the true laundress's motter, I say.</p>
+<p>But what in the world to <span class="sc">John Bull</span> can 'ave come</p>
+<p>If he can't <em>wash his own dirty linen at 'ome</em>?</p>
+  </div>  </div>
+
+<hr class="medium" />
+
+<h2>A MISMANAGED ACCIDENT.</h2>
+
+<p>Have just discovered that the pretty girl I met at the dance the
+other night is a lady nurse at Charing Cross Hospital. Such a nice
+girl! What a charming nurse she must be! Almost wish I was
+laid up at the hospital. In fact, quite wish it. But I can't be.
+Another outrage on the miserable, downtrodden, middle class. If I
+were one of the fortunate, pampered masses, a Working Man, I
+should be nursed by her, if I were ill, and by others, perhaps, like
+her. Stay! There is a chance. If I could be damaged in an
+accident&mdash;not too much damaged&mdash;and carried to the hospital, they
+must look after me, and nurse me. They couldn't help themselves.
+Northumberland Avenue&mdash;the very place! Never cross it without
+being nearly run over.</p>
+
+<p>Go straight there and look eagerly for the usual rushing hansoms.
+Here's one. Stroll in front of it. Driver pulls aside, shouts and
+swears at me, and goes on. Reflect that some caution is necessary.
+If the wheel went over my neck, even her ministrations would
+be useless. Must be run over judiciously. Better only be knocked
+down. Stroll across road again. Here comes one. Shouts from
+driver. A large splash of mud in my eye. And that's all. These
+cabmen drive so absurdly well. They pull up, or pull aside, or
+pull somewhere instantly. Wipe my eye, and then see something
+better. Old lady's brougham, from the suburbs, driven by the sort
+of coachman who also works in the garden. He won't be able to pull
+aside quickly. Stroll in front of horse. Shouts from gardening
+coachman. Horse nearly on me. Suddenly pulled back by fussy
+policeman, who says I had a narrow escape. Hang the fellow, of
+course I did! Am obliged to give him ten shillings for his prompt
+action. Begin to despair of this accident. Stroll on nearly to Embankment.
+Immense van coming along at a trot. Much too heavy.
+I should be smashed flat. And this driver seems to want to run
+over me. Escape with difficulty by jumping aside. At that moment
+something hits my legs, I am thrown down, and a wheel passes over
+my foot. It is a costermonger's donkey-cart which was racing the
+van. How ignominious! To be knocked down by a donkey and run
+over by a truck! Very painful too. Feel as if I should faint.
+Picked up by sympathetic people who rush to me. Say feebly to
+them, "Take me to the hospital." Then faint.</p>
+
+<p>After a short time open my eyes. Am being carried in somewhere.
+At last! I shall forget the pain. I am in the hospital. She will
+nurse me! <i>She</i>&mdash;oh, heavens! Though I have planned it all,
+suppose I ought to murmur, "Where am I?" Do so. "In St.
+Thomas's Hospital," says somebody.</p>
+
+<p class="ind"><i>A fortnight later.</i>&mdash;And I am in it still.</p>
+
+<hr class="medium" />
+
+<p class="ind1">According to a paragraph last week in the <cite>Westminster Gazette</cite>,
+quoting from the <cite>Australian Review of Reviews</cite>, it appears that the
+Earl of <span class="sc">Yarmouth</span> has been making a sensation in the Colonies as a
+"Skirt-dancer." Queer fish this nobleman! belongs to the Bloater
+Aristocracy.</p>
+
+<hr class="medium" />
+
+<p class="ind2"><span class="sc">A Noble Plunger.</span>&mdash;One day last week in the <cite>Times</cite> appeared an
+article headed "<cite>Lord Rayleigh on Waves</cite>." Rather early for sea-bathing,
+eh? Evidently so, such prominence having been given to
+the fact by the leading journal.</p>
+
+<hr class="medium" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page182" id="page182"></a>[pg 182]</span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 375px;"><a href="images/182-1100.png"><img src="images/182-375.png" width="375" height="482" alt="'BETTER LATE THAN NEVER.'" /></a>
+<h3 class="sans">"BETTER LATE THAN NEVER.</h3>
+
+<p><i>Mr. Punch</i> (<i>welcoming Miss Spring-time</i>). '<span class="sc">Glad to see you, my dear! Began to think you were never coming!</span>'"</p></div>
+
+<hr class="medium" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page183" id="page183"></a>[pg 183]</span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;"><a href="images/183-1500.png"><img src="images/183-600.png" width="600" height="329" alt="'ANIMAL SPIRITS.'" /></a>
+<h3 class="sans">"ANIMAL SPIRITS."</h3>
+
+<p class="title2">No. XI.&mdash;<span class="sc">After Bank Holiday.</span></p></div>
+
+<hr class="medium" />
+
+<h3>"BETTER LATE THAN NEVER."</h3>
+
+<p class="title1">Mr. Punch to Miss Spring:&mdash;</p>
+
+<div class="poem width33">  <div class="stanza">
+<p>Well, here you are at last, dear! <i>Are</i> the biting blizzards past, dear?</p>
+<p class="i2">And <i>will</i> you guarantee us from subjection to the plumber?</p>
+<p>Will no casual icy splinter from the serried spears of Winter</p>
+<p class="i2">Put a chill upon your smile, and spoil the promise of the Summer?</p>
+<p>We've been waiting worn and weary, till e'en cuckoo-songs sound cheery,</p>
+<p class="i2">And belated almond-blossoms show like roses of Cashmere:</p>
+<p>And the cockney chaunt now flowing, "All-a-blowing <i>and</i> a-growing!"</p>
+<p class="i2">Falls far sweeter than <span class="sc">Mascagni</span> upon London's longing ear.</p>
+<p>Where on earth have you been hiding? We are in no mood for chiding,</p>
+<p class="i2">But mid-April's <i>rather</i> late, dear, for what should have come in March!</p>
+<p>What malignant hocus-pocus has kept back the plucky crocus,</p>
+<p class="i2">Whose gold is scarce yet bursting from the beds the winds still parch?</p>
+<p>After that six weeks cold snap, dear, of fast frozen pipe and tap, dear,</p>
+<p class="i2">When back to barbarism and to bathlessness fate drove us,</p>
+<p>And we sicklier grew, and surlier, if you'd come a <i>leetle</i> earlier,&mdash;</p>
+<p class="i2">Well, let bygones now be bygones! But O Spring sweet! an you love us,</p>
+<p>Come&mdash;at last, dear&mdash;<i>à la</i> <span class="sc">Herrick</span>, with such influence atmospheric</p>
+<p class="i2">As will slay the Influenza; with such fragrance from your flowers,</p>
+<p>As will knock Malaria silly; let your dear daffydown-dilly</p>
+<p class="i2">From our bodies drive bacilli, and the blight from out our bowers.</p>
+<p>Slay our Microbes, Spring, and bless us! Like a clinging Shirt of Nessus</p>
+<p class="i2">Morbid sickliness surrounds us in our lives, our books, our art.</p>
+<p>Oh, if sunshine and your breezes might but slay our soul-diseases,</p>
+<p class="i2">Oust the pestilent miasma that pervades the home, the mart;</p>
+<p>Neutralise the nauseous virus whose developments so tire us;</p>
+<p class="i2">Disinfect the New Parnassus, purge the New Pierian Spring,</p>
+<p>Bring us honesty and health, dear, why for all our wit and wealth, dear,</p>
+<p class="i2">We might love like Nature's lovers, and like Nature's poets sing.</p>
+<p>Ah! we need Spring's prophylactic!&mdash;But I'm getting too didactic</p>
+<p class="i2">For a sunny April morning, and a sweet young thing like you.</p>
+<p>My dear, the London Season, wrapped and furred out of all reason,</p>
+<p class="i2">Has been waiting, decked like Winter, with a nose-tip nearly blue;</p>
+<p>Waiting, waiting for your coming. Sweet as bees in clover humming</p>
+<p class="i2">Is the first sound of your footfall. Most spontaneous of passions</p>
+<p>Is the love for you, you darling. You will bring the thrush and starling,</p>
+<p class="i2">And the young leaves and the young lambs, and, what's better&mdash;</p>
+<p class="i4"><i>the Spring Fashions</i>!!!</p>
+<p>So no wonder that she greets you with effusion when she meets you.</p>
+<p class="i2">Ah, Spring! 'tis not your lilacs, and your daffodils and stocks,</p>
+<p>Or the tender leaves the trees on, that most moves Miss London Season,</p>
+<p class="i2">'Tis the hope of "rippin'" frolics and the thought of "trotty" frocks.</p>
+<p>But an old man's heart, my treasure, beats to quite another measure,</p>
+<p class="i2">Still my sympathies, dear Spring, are with the youngsters and with you.</p>
+<p>They are looking for love's playtime, and the merry, merry May-time,</p>
+<p class="i2">And the popular R.A. time, and the whole tohu-bohu!</p>
+<p>Bring the girls delights as dowry, may their social paths be flowery,</p>
+<p class="i2">And your silver drops the only tears they need to look upon.</p>
+<p>So they're wholesome, may they flourish; and may all Spring influence nourish</p>
+<p class="i2">True manhood and pure womanhood, and&mdash;there, my preaching's done!</p>
+<p>We need a true <i>Spring Clean</i>, sweet. Give us parks and gardens green, sweet.</p>
+<p class="i2">And laughter, like your bird-songs pure, un-satyr-like, though clever,</p>
+<p>Bless our boys, our girls, our babies, yes&mdash;<i>and bring us back our <span class="sc">Jabez</span></i>,</p>
+<p class="i2">And we'll pardon your delay, and say 'tis better late than never!</p>
+  </div>  </div>
+
+<hr class="medium" />
+
+<p class="ind2"><span class="sc">Opportunity lost by Mr. Justice Hawkins during a recent
+Case when His Lordship might have put it to the Jury.</span>&mdash;"Gentlemen,
+what is the difference, or, as there has been no quarrel,
+let us say what is the distinction between a costumier and a butcher
+anxious to arrange his shop-front to the best advantage? Gentlemen,
+I will not detain you, it is this: The costumier meets out the
+dresses; the butcher 'dresses out' the meats. Gentlemen, you are
+discharged."</p>
+
+<hr class="medium" />
+
+<p class="center"><span class="sc">To Charitable Chess-Players.</span>&mdash;A good move at Easter time is&mdash;"cheque
+to his Bishop."</p>
+
+<hr class="medium" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page184" id="page184"></a>[pg 184]</span></p>
+
+<h3 class="sans">BLIND ALLEY-GORIES.</h3>
+
+<p class="title2"><span class="sc">By Dunno Währiar.</span></p>
+
+<p class="title2a">(<i>Translated from the original Lappish by Mr. Punch's own
+Hyperborean Enthusiast.</i>)</p>
+
+<p class="title">Introductory Note.</p>
+
+<p>IT affords me no ordinary gratification to be the humble instrument
+in rendering these exquisitely obscure prose-poems&mdash;reeking as they
+are with the self-consciousness of so magnificently triumphant an
+Ego&mdash;into the English tongue, though I am fully aware of the difficulty
+of preserving all the mystical unintelligibility of the original.</p>
+
+<p><span class="sc">Dunno Währiar</span> is
+perhaps the most remarkable
+personality
+that his native Lapland
+has yet produced. He
+first saw the light on
+April 1, 1879, at Kandalax,
+so that he may
+still be called comparatively
+young. His impressionable,
+sensitive
+soul broke out in early
+revolt against the train-oil
+and tallow which
+formed the traditionary
+nutriment of his family
+circle, and in 1883 we
+find him casting off the
+shackles of conventionality
+and escaping to
+Sweden in his sledge-perambulator.
+There
+he has lived ever since,
+and has already secured
+a foremost place among
+the greatest physiological
+psychologists of
+Scandinavia. As a morbid
+pathologist, he surpasses
+<span class="sc">Strindberg</span>;
+while in neurotic sensitivism,
+he has hustled
+<span class="sc">Hansson</span> into a back
+seat; easily beaten
+<span class="sc">Björnson</span> in diagnosis
+of the elusive emotions;
+and taken the indigestible
+cake of slack-baked
+symbolism from
+the master hand of <span class="sc">Ibsen</span>
+himself! Small
+wonder, then, that the
+commonest penwiper
+containing issues from
+his pen is eagerly sought
+after by admirers of such effusions.</p>
+
+<p>He belongs ('tis true) to the Literary Upper Crust, and is for the
+few rather than the many; while so absolute has been his fidelity to
+the principles of his art, that he has published every one of his works
+at a considerable pecuniary loss.</p>
+
+<p>Need I say more to ensure for him that respectful admiration
+which the public is ever ready to lavish upon anything they fail to
+understand?</p>
+
+<p>Let me rather efface myself and leave <span class="sc">Dunno Währiar</span>&mdash;or
+"Young <span class="sc">Garnaway</span>," as is his self-adopted pseudonym&mdash;to unfold
+the rhythmic charm of his own inimitable incomprehensibility.</p>
+
+<hr class="medium" />
+
+<h3>BLIND ALLEY-GORY THE FIRST.</h3>
+
+<p class="title2">THE LOST BACKBONE.</p>
+
+<p>One summer evening, when the moon was at the full, and cloud-shadows
+glided imperceptibly over the chimney-pots, as curses that
+have found no utterance and come dejectedly home to roost, I wandered
+into my back-garden, and caught the God of the Period napping
+in the moonshine on one of my celery-beds.</p>
+
+<p>He rose up suddenly and reposed awhile in space, with his head
+resting on the back of the Great Bear, and one foot on the arm of
+Cassiopeia's Chair, while with the other he skimmed the cream off the
+Milky Way. And he seemed to be everywhere and yet nowhere in
+particular, and he said nothing, and I was afraid to make a remark&mdash;and
+there was no sound, save that of the boundless, inconceivable
+silence which was rumbling round the corner.</p>
+
+<p>Presently he came down to the celery-bed once more.</p>
+
+<p>"What are you seeking for so late?" asked he; "your face looks
+so long and solemn, and your eyes are hollow and full of woe. Have
+you been having anything indigestible for supper?"</p>
+
+<p>"I am in trouble about Humanity," I replied; "for, though I
+loathe and despise them individually, collectively I love them
+dearly."</p>
+
+<p>"What's the matter with Humanity?" asked the God, as he
+squatted amid the celery.</p>
+
+<p>"They are growing so deadly dull," I answered. "I am Young
+<span class="sc">Garnaway</span>, the Pessimistic Prose Poet, and it pains me to see how
+utterly they have lost their perception of the ridiculous, which is the
+backbone of real enjoyment. So I came out to see if by any chance
+the backbone was hidden under one of the flower-pots."</p>
+
+<div class="figright" style="width: 450px;"><a href="images/184-1200.png"><img src="images/184-450.png" width="450" height="470" alt="'I saw many myriads of spectral kitten forms and unsubstantial egg-shapes.'" /></a>
+"I saw many myriads of spectral kitten forms and unsubstantial egg-shapes."</div>
+
+<p>The Period-God once more pervaded the endless space that glittered
+in darkling infinitude
+round about and right ahead of him. It seemed to me, when he returned,
+that he had been laughing; but suddenly I saw him pull himself together, and frown.</p>
+
+<p>And from afar a gurgling rose through the gloom, and darkness fell
+upon my back-garden, knocking a basilisk off the waterbutt, and
+above the garden-walls there appeared a crowd of rude persons, in pot
+hats, with red lolling tongues and wide grinning mouths, holding
+their sides with inextinguishable mirth. All at once the giggles
+turned into the booing of Philistines, and there was a fantastic shadowy
+horseplay, which rolled nearer and nearer.</p>
+
+<p>I saw many myriads of spectral kitten forms, and unsubstantial egg
+shapes rushing towards me through the air. Instinctively I ran indoors
+and gripped the umbrella from its corner, and stood on guard.</p>
+
+<p>Then I heard someone chuckling quite close
+to me, chuckling softly, but unmistakably. And the booing hushed,
+and the gloom lightened, and the garden-roller glimmered faintly
+in the moonlit summer night, and inside the lawn-mower lay the God
+of the Period crying with uncontrollable laughter.</p>
+
+<p>"When the time comes," he said, "when mankind gets weary of
+Paraded Pessimism, and the Big Scandinavian Boom has burst, then
+I will conjure forth the Great Guffaw; and <i>then</i> it will be time for
+all Dyspeptic Decadents to get under their umbrellas&mdash;just as you
+did awhile ago, for mankind will have recovered its sense of
+humour, and will decline to take them seriously. But you had much
+better leave off bothering your head about that lost backbone, for
+you won't be happy when they get it!"</p>
+
+<p>And while I was taking off my goloshes indoors, I heard again the
+sound of snapping celery sticks, as the Period-God rolled on the
+bed in ecstasies of stifled merriment, and I wondered at intervals
+what it was all about.</p>
+
+<hr class="medium" />
+
+<p class="ind1"><span class="sc">For Outward Application.</span>&mdash;"'A man may change his skies,'
+as the Roman poet puts it," quoth the <i>Daily Telegraph</i>, "but he
+does not so easily change his habits." The Academy is about to
+open. The pictures will soon be hung. Varnishing day comes, with
+last chance for alteration. Then comes in Latin poetic proverb,
+"A man may change his skies, but, do what he will, he cannot alter
+that peculiar style that marks the work as his, and nobody else's."</p>
+
+<hr class="medium" />
+
+<p class="center"><span class="sc">New Proverb.</span>&mdash;All "problem" and no "play" makes drama a
+dull joy.</p>
+
+<hr class="medium" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page185" id="page185"></a>[pg 185]</span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter1" style="width: 600px;"><a href="images/185a-1500.png"><img src="images/185a-600.png" width="600" height="382" alt="SHOCKING HEATHENISM." /></a>
+<h3 class="sans">SHOCKING HEATHENISM.</h3>
+
+<p><i>Rector.</i> "<span class="sc">So you go up to Town next month, Miss Mary. How I envy you! And of course you'll attend the May Meetings.</span>"</p>
+
+<p><i>Miss Mary.</i> "<span class="sc">May Meetings? Oh dear no! Though I adore Horses, I quite disapprove of <i>Racing</i>, don't you know!</span>"</p></div>
+
+<hr class="medium" />
+
+<h2>OUR BOOKING-OFFICE.</h2>
+
+<div class="figleft" style="width: 100px;"><a href="images/185b-300.png"><img src="images/185b-100.png" width="100" height="219" alt="'Fridoline.'" /></a>
+<p class="center">"Fridoline."</p></div>
+
+<p>The Baron heartily welcomes the appearance of <i>Happy Thoughts</i>
+in French, under the very attractive style and title of <i>Fridoline</i>. No
+fear now of the <i>entente cordiale</i> between England and France being
+disturbed; and that is indeed <i>une "pensée" la plus "heureuse" ou
+"ingénieuse."</i> The dialogue with the patient angler who remains
+in the middle of the stream day after day, and, probably, night after
+night, is quite a little lesson in French.</p>
+
+<p>"<i>'Pris quelque chose?' 'Rien.' 'Pas
+mordu du tout?' 'Une fois, je crois.' Le
+pêcheur n'a pas perdu son calme, mais son air
+n'a rien de triomphant.</i>"</p>
+
+<p>And the world goes on and the <i>mouvement</i>
+continues, and ever and anon the Happy
+Thoughter, returning to the river, finds the
+same man in the same boat in almost the same
+position. Then, before retiring for the night,
+the H. T. takes one turn on the lawn, "<i>pour
+m'assurer</i>," he says, "<i>que je ne laisse rien
+derrière moi. Ah si! je laisse l'homme au
+bachot, toujours sa ligne en main. Il avait,
+paraît-il, un pen redescendu le courant.
+'Bonne pêche?' 'Non.' 'Pris quelque
+chose?' 'Rien.'</i>" Those who read "<i>entre
+les lignes</i>" may see in this figure of unrewarded
+patience and perseverance more than
+meets the eye. <span class="sc">M. Aurelien de Courson</span> has
+done his work excellently well, "<i>avec l'autorisation
+de l'auteur</i>."</p>
+
+<p>I found a book on my table lying among a
+number of others put aside to be read at "a more convenient season."
+The title attracted me&mdash;<i>Clove Pink</i>. Its leaves are of last autumn,
+but the story they tell is for ever. It is admirably written; its word-painting
+is the work of a true artist: but beginning brightly and
+gladly, as do the lives of the young hero and heroine, it ends sadly
+but sweetly. If you are not averse to a simple, well-told tale, with
+stirring incidents of modern warfare, graphically narrated, that
+stand out in startling contrast to the scenes of quiet English rural
+life, a story whose pathos and simple truth will touch you deeply,
+read <i>Clove Pink</i>, says</p>
+
+<p class="author"><span class="sc">The Baron de Book-Worms</span>.</p>
+
+<hr class="medium" />
+
+<h3>VERY CATCHING.</h3>
+
+<div class="figright" style="width: 250px;"><a href="images/185c-400.png"><img src="images/185c-150.png" width="150" height="153" alt="'To-morrow will be Fry day," /></a>
+<div class="poem width21">  <div class="stanza">
+<p>"To-morrow will be Fry day,</p>
+<p>So we'll catch our fish to-day."</p>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+
+<p class="i10"><i>Somebody's Song.</i></p>
+  </div>  </div>
+</div>
+
+<p>In the <cite>Times</cite> of Monday, April 8, appeared an advertisement
+headed "Lent, Lent&mdash;Fish, Fish." This meant, of course, that the
+season was Lent, not that the fishmonger was a lender of fish. And
+for the season it was Holy Week,
+<i>i.e.</i> last week of Lent. Then it
+goes on "<em>Have you ordered your
+Good Friday's Dinner?</em> If not,
+do so at once." Excellent and most
+timely advice, seeing it was given
+on the Monday preceding Good
+Friday. So far so good; but then
+comes "a reason why" which apparently
+quite upsets the kettle of
+fish. Here is the extract:&mdash;</p>
+
+<blockquote><p>
+"Having made contracts with a
+number of the leading trawl and line
+fishermen to take the whole of their
+prime fish caught during Easter week,"
+&amp;c., &amp;c.
+</p></blockquote>
+
+<p>What on earth is the good of fish
+caught in Easter Week to the persons
+who have ordered it for the
+previous Friday? That's where the trouble is. The fishmonger is
+at sea as well as his good fishermen. If the advertisement had been
+headed "Lent and Easter," then it would have been evident that
+two different subjects were being dealt with, and "both caught with
+one fish," as Mrs. R. might say, adapting a proverb.<br /><br /><br /></p>
+
+<hr class="medium" />
+
+<h3 class="sq">TEMPERATE TO INTEMPERATE.</h3>
+
+<div class="poem width15">  <div class="stanza">
+<p><span class="sc">Fanatic</span> sophistries, I think,</p>
+<p class="i2">To logic's limits will have shrunk,</p>
+<p>When zealot's recognize that "drink"</p>
+<p class="i2">Is <em>not</em> identical with "drunk."</p>
+<p>Difference may be as great you see,</p>
+<p class="i2">'Twixt U and I as You and Me!</p>
+  </div>  </div>
+
+<hr class="medium" />
+
+<p class="center"><span class="sc">Wordsworth for Witlers.</span>&mdash;"Drink, pretty creature, drink!"</p>
+
+<hr class="medium" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page186" id="page186"></a>[pg 186]</span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter1" style="width: 450px;"><a href="images/186-990.png"><img src="images/186-320.png" width="320" height="483" alt="SOCIAL AGONIES." /></a>
+<h3 class="sans">SOCIAL AGONIES.</h3>
+
+<p><i>Anxious Musician</i> (<i>in a whisper, to Mrs. Lyon Hunter's butler</i>). "<span class="sc">Where's my 'Cello?</span>"</p>
+
+<p><i>Butler</i> (<i>in stentorian tones, to the room</i>). "<span class="sc">Signor Weresmicello!</span>"</p></div>
+
+<hr class="medium" />
+
+<h3>THE NEW ENGLISH ART CLUB.</h3>
+
+<p>The other day I went to this exhibition of
+sublime masterpieces. I was about to write
+a few comments, full of strange epithets and
+gushing praise, when a small girl came in
+with a lady. The child spoke so freely that
+I paused to listen. This was her criticism.
+"Oh, mother, what's that meant for? I
+can't see anything. Look at that lady! She's
+got no face at all. Oh, look at that other!
+She's funnier. What is she? A Spanish
+dancer? Do all Spanish dancers have knobbly
+faces like you might make out of a potato?
+What are those people skating on? Is it
+cotton wool? Oh, mother, look there! What
+an ugly lady! Why's she put all that red
+on her cheeks? What's all that other red
+there? Is it another lady? A church in
+Venice? What Olympia where you took me
+two years ago? Oh, mother, it can't be a
+church! Unless it's upside down. Or perhaps
+all the paints have run into one another
+like mine do. Oh, look! There's a picture
+of a washstand. Is it an advertisement of a
+furniture shop? Or is it meant for what
+father calls a slight wash in his water-colour
+drawings? What are those ladies dancing in
+sheets for? Is it sheets they've got on?
+Oh what a red face that gentleman's got!
+I don't think they paint very pretty ladies or
+gentlemen here. Oh, mother, look at that!
+Why it's the funniest of all! Who are the
+two ladies? Why are their clothes slipping
+down? Why are their faces all crooked, and
+their eyes sideways? Are they meant to be
+pretty? I don't think they are. What do
+you say it is? Meant to be painted on the
+wall of a room? Is that why they look so
+funny? Why they look like Aunt <span class="sc">Kitty</span>,
+when she's going to have a sea bath, and
+when&mdash;&mdash;" Here the little maiden was suddenly
+dragged out of the room, and her shrill
+voice was heard no more. But her winged
+words are not forgotten by</p>
+
+<p class="author"><span class="sc">A Crushed Critic</span>.</p>
+
+<hr class="medium" />
+
+<h3>AN EASTER 'OLIDAY.</h3>
+
+<p class="title2">(<i>A Siesta Song, from the Burlesque Opera
+"Little Liberal Majority," performed at the
+Theatre Royal, St. Stephen's.</i>)</p>
+
+<p class="title2a"><span class="sc">Air</span>&mdash;"<i>Lazily, Drowsily.</i>"</p>
+
+<div class="poem width24">  <div class="stanza">
+<p>When gaily dances the Easter sun,</p>
+<p class="i2">And shelved is each bothersome Bill,</p>
+<p>Then work and talk for a time are done,</p>
+<p class="i2">And the lobbies are hushed and still.</p>
+<p class="i10">Lazily, lazily,</p>
+<p class="i10">Drowsily, drowsily,</p>
+<p class="i8">Home goes every one;</p>
+<p class="i10">Lazily, lazily,</p>
+<p class="i10">Drowsily, drowsily,</p>
+<p class="i8">Under the April sun.</p>
+<p class="i8">Old St. Stephen's closes;</p>
+<p class="i8">Parliament reposes,</p>
+<p class="i10">Lazily, lazily,</p>
+<p class="i10">Drowsily, drowsily,</p>
+<p class="i8">Forty winks, or fun!</p>
+  </div><div class="stanza">
+<p>When the sunlight falls on the Heath's green breast,</p>
+<p class="i2">And blue are the skies above,</p>
+<p>Each seeks the rest that he loves the best,</p>
+<p class="i2">Or the sport he doth chiefly love.</p>
+<p>Lazily, lazily, drowsily, drowsily,</p>
+<p class="i2">Donkey riding's fun!</p>
+<p>Lazily, lazily, drowsily, drowsily,</p>
+<p class="i2">Dawdling under the sun!</p>
+<p class="i2"> <span class="sc">Harcourt's</span> eyelid closes,</p>
+<p class="i2"> <span class="sc">Balfour</span> blandly dozes;</p>
+<p>Lazily, lazily, drowsily, drowsily,</p>
+<p class="i2">Under the Easter sun!</p>
+  </div><div class="stanza">
+<p>Joggle and jolt! <i>These</i> mokes won't bolt!</p>
+<p class="i2">Each flops like an empty sack</p>
+<p>On the broad back, shaggy as Shetland colt.</p>
+<p class="i2">No donkey boy on <i>their</i> track!</p>
+<p>Lazily, lazily, drowsily, drowsily,</p>
+<p class="i2">Carelessly jogging on!</p>
+<p>Lazily, lazily, drowsily, drowsily,</p>
+<p class="i2">Under an Easter sun!</p>
+<p class="i2">Lotos-Land discloses</p>
+<p class="i2">No more bland reposes.</p>
+<p>Lazily, lazily, drowsily, drowsily,</p>
+<p class="i2">Dawdle they under the sun!</p>
+  </div><div class="stanza">
+<p>"That <span class="sc">Labby</span> was often a bore!" sighs <span class="sc">Will</span>,</p>
+<p class="i2">Groans <span class="sc">Arty</span>, "And so was <span class="sc">Joe</span>!</p>
+<p>To drive <i>these</i> donkeys demands small skill!</p>
+<p class="i2">Would Westminster mokes were so!</p>
+<p>Lazily, lazily, drowsily, drowsily!</p>
+<p class="i2">Riding like this is fun!</p>
+<p>Lazily, lazily, drowsily, drowsily!</p>
+<p class="i2">Bless us! Who <i>wants</i> to run?</p>
+<p class="i2">'Appy 'Ampstead dozes!</p>
+<p class="i2">Mokes are beds of roses!</p>
+<p>Lazily, lazily, drowsily, drowsily,</p>
+<p class="i2">Jog we&mdash;till holiday's done!"</p>
+  </div>  </div>
+
+<hr class="medium" />
+
+<p class="center">"<span class="sc">The Objection to Euclid</span>" of which
+we have heard so much recently is of very
+ancient standing, and is shared by nearly
+every schoolboy.</p>
+
+<hr class="medium" />
+
+<p class="center"><span class="sc">Parliamentary Proverb.</span>&mdash;There's many
+a slip 'twixt the M.P. and the "Whip"!</p>
+
+<hr class="medium" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page187" id="page187"></a>[pg 187]</span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;"><a href="images/187-1200.png"><img src="images/187-400.png" width="400" height="454" alt="AN EASTER 'OLIDAY." /></a>
+<h2>AN EASTER 'OLIDAY.</h2>
+
+<p><i>Duet</i> (<span class="sc">'Arcourt</span> <i>and</i> <span class="sc">Harthur</span> <i>sing while being jolted</i>).</p>
+
+<p>"LA-A-ZI-LY LA-A-ZI-LY! DROW-OW-OW-SILY! DROW-OW-OW-SILY!" &amp;c.</p></div>
+
+<hr class="medium" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page188" id="page188"></a>[pg 188]</span><br /></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page189" id="page189"></a>[pg 189]</span></p>
+
+<h3 class="sans">MR. PUNCH AT A PICTURE SHOW.</h3>
+
+<p class="title2">(<i>The Collection of Sir John Tenniel's
+Drawings at the Fine Art Society's
+Gallery.</i>)</p>
+
+<p class="title2a"><span class="sc">Air.</span>&mdash;"<i>My Old Friend John.</i>"</p>
+
+<div class="poem width24">  <div class="stanza">
+<p>'Tis forty years, my dear Sir <span class="sc">John</span>,</p>
+<p class="i2">Since you and I first met.</p>
+<p>Lord, how the fleeting hours have flown!</p>
+<p class="i2">But we foregather yet,</p>
+<p>I gaze on this brave show with pride&mdash;</p>
+<p class="i2">Fine art, still in full feather!</p>
+<p>By Jove, it seems but yesterday</p>
+<p class="i2">Since we were "boys" together.</p>
+  </div><div class="stanza">
+<p>Since we were boys, merry, merry boys,</p>
+<p class="i2">At our old Board together!</p>
+  </div><div class="stanza">
+<p>There's gladness in remembrance, <span class="sc">John</span>;</p>
+<p class="i2">Your pencil-strokes struck true;</p>
+<p>Through all the shifts of party life,</p>
+<p class="i2">No pause that pencil knew.</p>
+<p>We've missed old comrades one by one;</p>
+<p class="i2">Our friendship moults no feather;</p>
+<p><i>Can</i> forty years and more have run</p>
+<p class="i2">Since we were "boys" together?</p>
+  </div><div class="stanza">
+<p>Since we were boys, merry, merry boys,</p>
+<p class="i2">At our old Board together!</p>
+  </div><div class="stanza">
+<p>I gaze and proudly ponder, <span class="sc">John</span>;</p>
+<p class="i2">I've seen them all before&mdash;</p>
+<p><span class="sc">Gladstone, Bright, Dizzy, Bull!</span>&mdash;Well done!!!</p>
+<p class="i2">Fresh as in days of yore</p>
+<p>The Big Cuts gleam. By sea and stream,</p>
+<p class="i2">Moor, mountain, ice-field, heather.</p>
+<p>Force, grace, fair fun mark all you've done,</p>
+<p class="i2">Since we were "boys" together.</p>
+  </div>  </div>
+
+<p class="title1"><i>Chorus all "Round the Mahogany
+Tree."</i></p>
+
+<div class="poem width24">  <div class="stanza">
+<p>Since we were boys, merry, merry boys!</p>
+<p class="i2">So meet we, in full feather,</p>
+<p>For many sunny years, Sir <span class="sc">John</span>,</p>
+<p class="i2">Still boys&mdash;at heart&mdash;together!</p>
+  </div>  </div>
+
+<hr class="medium" />
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 350px;"><a href="images/189a-900.png"><img src="images/189a-330.png" width="330" height="461" alt="FANCY PORTRAIT." /></a>
+<h3 class="sans">FANCY PORTRAIT.</h3>
+
+<p class="center">SIR G-RGE L-W-S.</p>
+
+<div class="poem width27">  <div class="stanza">
+<p>"<span class="sc">Bold of your worthiness, we single you</span></p>
+<p><span class="sc">As our best-moving fair solicitor.</span>"</p>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<p class="i10"><i>Love's Labour's Lost</i>, Act II., Sc. 1.</p>
+ </div>  </div></div>
+
+<hr class="medium" />
+
+<h3 class="sans">THE LAY OF THE LITTLE MINORITY.</h3>
+
+<p class="title2"><span class="sc">Air</span>&mdash;"<i>Little Buttercup.</i>"</p>
+
+<div class="poem width24">  <div class="stanza">
+<p>I'm bumptious Minority&mdash;cocky Minority</p>
+<p class="i2">(Though I can hardly tell why),</p>
+<p>My work is to worry poor weary Majority,</p>
+<p class="i2">Giving him one in the eye.</p>
+  </div><div class="stanza">
+<p>On Board or on Council I swagger and bounce 'll,</p>
+<p class="i2">And badger 'em out of their lives.</p>
+<p>I claim all the graces, and all the best places;</p>
+<p class="i2">Thus cocky Minority thrives!</p>
+  </div><div class="stanza">
+<p>Majorities little of claim have no tittle</p>
+<p class="i2">To getting <i>their</i> own wicked way;</p>
+<p>But cocky Minority has such authority,</p>
+<p class="i2"><i>His</i> should be absolute sway.</p>
+  </div><div class="stanza">
+<p>If things are at evens at&mdash;well, say St. Stephen's,</p>
+<p class="i2">Spring Gardens, wherever you like,</p>
+<p>Tis a mere deadlock (like New Woman wedlock),</p>
+<p class="i2">And against Progress we strike.</p>
+  </div><div class="stanza">
+<p>If a Majority (small) claims authority</p>
+<p class="i2">To make the tiniest move,</p>
+<p>Then to prevent it, obstruct, circumvent it,</p>
+<p class="i2">Must be my labour of love.</p>
+  </div><div class="stanza">
+<p>But a Minority's superiority</p>
+<p class="i2">Is just as clear as the day.</p>
+<p>Majorities (small) have one duty, that's all,</p>
+<p class="i2">'Tis&mdash;<i>to let the Minority sway!</i></p>
+  </div><div class="stanza">
+<p>Then yield to Minority&mdash;cocky Minority,</p>
+<p class="i2">On Boards or of Council or School!</p>
+<p>Hooray for Minority&mdash;bumptious Minority!</p>
+<p class="i2">Come&mdash;let Minority rule!</p>
+  </div>  </div>
+
+<hr class="medium" />
+
+<h3>OUR NEXT LITTLE BATTLE.</h3>
+
+<p class="title1">(<i>From our Prophetic Reporter, a trifle
+in advance.</i>)</p>
+
+<p><span class="sc">Nowhar</span>, <i>April 1</i>.&mdash;Wett River crossed
+yesterday in most brilliant style. Dashaway
+Regiment carried landing at point of bayonet,
+the Muffs keeping up
+well-directed fire during
+the entire operation.
+However, they seemed
+to feel effect of our artillery
+and Maxims.</p>
+
+<div class="figleft" style="width: 100px;"><a href="images/189b-280.png"><img src="images/189b-100.png" width="100" height="154" alt="" /></a></div>
+
+<p>When landing effected,
+Sapping Miners
+constructed iron bridge
+(with glass covering to
+protect the troops from
+the rain) within five-and-twenty
+minutes.
+During the construction
+Muffs fired continuously
+at working parties. Flag-staffs riddled with
+shot, consequently colours could not be run
+up. A round from couple of quick-firing
+guns cleared heights of human obstructions.</p>
+
+<p>On completion of bridge, two troops of 147th
+Irregular Prancers charged enemy with much
+dash. As gallant horsemen approached
+Muffs (numbering about twenty thousand)
+concentrated their fire. For few minutes
+Irregulars had to pass through perfect fog
+of bullets. This ordeal did not damp their
+courage; soon came to close quarters with
+foe. In a moment Muffs were in confusion,
+flying, before pursuing sabres. Irregulars
+followed retreating enemy for many miles
+with complete success.</p>
+
+<p>While these operations being carried out
+17th Battalion of Cutandthrust Regiment
+made assault on fortress protecting right
+flank of Muffs. Enemy opposed charge with
+well-sustained artillery fire, which had it been
+more judiciously directed might have caused
+considerable annoyance. As it was, many
+Cutandthrusts lowered their heads to allow
+of undisturbed passage of shrapnell. On
+reaching walls redcoats hopped over like
+birds. Garrison stubbornly defended position.
+Cutandthrusts extended, advancing in
+their new formation. With wild cheer they
+again charged. Although this advance caused
+Muffs to fall back, they still retained their
+ground. At this moment machine-guns of
+battalion were brought into play with best
+results. A couple of rounds immediately
+broke up enemy's columns and put them to
+flight. Muffs were then routed by 53rd Regiment
+of Indian Tiger Eaters.</p>
+
+<p>By midday position secured. At invitation
+of bugles exploring party "ceased firing,"
+and prepared for mess.</p>
+
+<p><i>Later.</i>&mdash;I have just received a return of
+killed and wounded on both sides, which I
+here give:&mdash;<i>Muffs.</i>&mdash;Killed, about 20,000;
+wounded, twice as many more. <i>British.</i>&mdash;Killed,
+none; wounded, No. 35,604,821
+Private <span class="sc">Smith</span> (Cutandthrust Regiment),
+slight scratch on fourth finger of left hand.</p>
+
+<hr class="medium" />
+
+<p class="center"><span class="sc">New Name for It</span> (<i>by Brother Bung</i>).&mdash;Local Hop-shun!</p>
+
+<hr class="medium" />
+
+<h3>ALL THE DIFFERENCE.</h3>
+
+<div class="poem width24">  <div class="stanza">
+<div class="figright" style="width: 60px;"><a href="images/189c-200.png"><img src="images/189c-60.png" width="60" height="171" alt="All the difference." /></a></div>
+<p>If half the things that <span class="sc">Chloe</span> says to me,</p>
+<p>If half the pretty kindnesses she shows,</p>
+<p class="i2">By <span class="sc">Phyllida</span> were shown or said,</p>
+<p>Without a tremor I would stake my head</p>
+<p class="i2">That I securely might propose</p>
+<p class="i4">That she my bride would be.</p>
+  </div><div class="stanza">
+<p>Yet why? I know full well that <span class="sc">Chloe</span> means</p>
+<p>Nothing at all. 'Tis but her buoyant way,</p>
+<p class="i2">Her frank "The best of friends, that's all."</p>
+<p>And yet the stricter <span class="sc">Grundy</span> 'twould appal</p>
+<p class="i2">To hear the tender things we say</p>
+<p class="i4">Between our quarrel-scenes.</p>
+  </div><div class="stanza">
+<p>If one full-leaping pulse's beat</p>
+<p class="i2">Beyond the coldest courtesy's demand</p>
+<p class="i2">I trespass on sweet <span class="sc">Phyllida's</span> coy hand,</p>
+<p>The thrill is shivered by her quick retreat,</p>
+<p>Her fingers stiffen like a fossil fin,</p>
+<p>And I again, a <span class="sc">Sisyphus</span>, begin</p>
+<p>The task of charming her reserve austere,</p>
+<p class="i2">Palsied by Love's false fear,</p>
+<p>Which drives the lover's chances down to zero.</p>
+<p>While some cadaverous and long-chinn'd hero</p>
+<p>Talks from a height rais'd by his own conceit,</p>
+<p>And my white goddess listens at his feet.</p>
+  </div>  </div>
+
+<hr class="medium" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page190" id="page190"></a>[pg 190]</span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;"><a href="images/190-1500.png"><img src="images/190-600.png" width="600" height="430" alt="PREHISTORIC PEEPS." /></a>
+<h3 class="sans">PREHISTORIC PEEPS.</h3>
+
+<p><span class="sc">There were Seasons (corresponding to our Easter, &amp;c.) when the Inhabitants of one accord gave themselves up to Relaxation and Amusement!</span></p></div>
+
+<hr class="medium" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page191" id="page191"></a>[pg 191]</span></p>
+
+<h3>LINES IN PLEASANT PLACES.</h3>
+
+<p class="title2">THE LAND OF DREAMS.</p>
+
+<div class="poem width21">  <div class="stanza">
+<p>There's a wondrous fairy kingdom</p>
+<p class="i2">Whither all may take a trip&mdash;</p>
+<p>Quite an inexpensive journey,</p>
+<p class="i2">It is not by rail or ship&mdash;</p>
+<p>For it lies just where you fancy,</p>
+<p class="i2">And a pleasant thing it seems</p>
+<p>For a man to sojourn sometimes</p>
+<p class="i2">In the land of dreams.</p>
+  </div><div class="stanza">
+<p>'Tis the land where man attaineth</p>
+<p class="i2">To the end of his desire,</p>
+<p>Where the minor poet warbles</p>
+<p class="i2">And the laurel crowns his lyre:</p>
+<p>It is there the sucking statesman</p>
+<p class="i2">Works out Machiavellian schemes,</p>
+<p>And young <span class="sc">Briefless</span> is a leader</p>
+<p class="i2">In the land of dreams.</p>
+  </div><div class="stanza">
+<p>'Tis the land of fur and feather,</p>
+<p class="i2">'Tis the paradise of sport,</p>
+<p>Where the runs beat all recounted</p>
+<p class="i2">O'er the walnuts and the port:</p>
+<p>It is there the pheasant rockets,</p>
+<p class="i2">It is there the covert teems,</p>
+<p>And your powder's always straightest</p>
+<p class="i2">In the land of dreams.</p>
+  </div><div class="stanza">
+<p>There with ease the patient golfer</p>
+<p class="i2">Plays a record medal-round,</p>
+<p>And the batsman get his hundred,</p>
+<p class="i2">Hitting clean all round the ground;</p>
+<p>There old <span class="sc">Izaak's</span> keen disciple</p>
+<p class="i2">Thrashes quite ideal streams,</p>
+<p>For he angles most "compleatly"</p>
+<p class="i2">In the land of dreams.</p>
+  </div><div class="stanza">
+<p>'Tis a land where someone meets you</p>
+<p class="i2">You may never meet elsewhere,</p>
+<p>'Tis a land where words are whispered</p>
+<p class="i2">You may whisper only there;</p>
+<p>'Tis the home of youth and sunshine</p>
+<p class="i2">Where you taste of joy's extremes,</p>
+<p>For, of course, there's someone loves you</p>
+<p class="i2">In the land of dreams.</p>
+  </div><div class="stanza">
+<p>'Tis a land of peace and quiet,</p>
+<p class="i2">Free from yelling paper-boys,</p>
+<p>And from Germany's musicians,</p>
+<p class="i2">And offensive kinds of noise:</p>
+<p>There the organ-grinder grinds not,</p>
+<p class="i2">There no restive infant screams.</p>
+<p>Oh, to spend one's whole existence</p>
+<p class="i2">In the land of dreams!</p>
+  </div><div class="stanza">
+<p>'Tis a land where rates and taxes</p>
+<p class="i2">Never need be brooded on,</p>
+<p>And the cupboard is unfurnished</p>
+<p class="i2">With the homely skeleton:</p>
+<p>There the roses all are thornless,</p>
+<p class="i2">Life is destitute of seams,</p>
+<p>And, in short, its worth the living</p>
+<p class="i2">In the land of dreams.</p>
+  </div>  </div>
+
+<hr class="medium" />
+
+<h3>TO A PRETTY GIRL.</h3>
+
+<p class="title2">(<i>Who accepted some verses.</i>)</p>
+
+<div class="poem width30">  <div class="stanza">
+<div class="figright" style="width: 150px;"><a href="images/191a-350.png"><img src="images/191a-150.png" width="150" height="171" alt="To a pretty girl." /></a></div>
+<p>You take my lines, and say that you</p>
+<p class="i2">Appreciate my humble verses.</p>
+<p>That's more than editors will do,</p>
+<p class="i2">Or publishers, with bloated purses.</p>
+<p>To gain your thanks in such a way,</p>
+<p>I'd write you verses night and day.</p>
+  </div><div class="stanza">
+<p><i>You</i> don't return them, saying you</p>
+<p class="i2">Regret you cannot now accept them.</p>
+<p>Or, scrawled with marks in blatant blue,</p>
+<p class="i2">To show that, ruined, you have kept them.</p>
+<p>If you would pay me with a smile,</p>
+<p>I'd write you verses by the mile.</p>
+  </div><div class="stanza">
+<p>If you could only say that you</p>
+<p class="i2">Would like me for my admiration,</p>
+<p>To sing your charms till all was blue</p>
+<p class="i2">Would be delightful occupation.</p>
+<p>If I could hope to win a kiss,</p>
+<p>I'd write you fifty miles like this.</p>
+  </div>  </div>
+
+<hr class="medium" />
+
+<div class="figcenter1" style="width: 520px;"><a href="images/191b-1200.png"><img src="images/191b-400.png" width="400" height="474" alt="First Boy. 'Give us a Bite of your Apple, Bob.'" /></a>
+<table summary="layout" border="0">
+<tr>
+      <td class="left"><i>First Boy.</i> "<span class="sc">Give us a Bite of your Apple, Bob.</span>"</td>
+	  <td class="left1"><i>Second Boy.</i> "<span class="sc">Shan't.</span>"</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+      <td class="left"><i>First Boy.</i> "<span class="sc">What for?</span>"</td>
+	  <td class="left1"><i>Second Boy.</i> "<span class="sc">'Cos yer axed me!</span>"</td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+
+<p class="center2">(<i>After a pause.</i>)</p>
+
+<p class="less"><i>Small Boy.</i> "<span class="sc">Gi' me a Bite, Bob. I never axed yer!</span>"</p></div>
+
+<hr class="medium" />
+
+<h2 class="sans">ESSENCE OF PARLIAMENT.</h2>
+
+<p class="title">Extracted from the Diary of Toby, M.P.</p>
+
+<p><i>House of Commons, Monday Night,
+April 8.</i>&mdash;House to-night presented that
+appearance seen only on big occasions.
+Long unfamiliar in slough of despond in
+which present House been steeped since
+Session opened. Every seat on either side
+occupied. Members sitting on Gangway
+steps, flooding the side galleries, blocking
+the Bar, peopling even the steps of the Chair.
+<span class="sc">Arthur Peel</span> is leaving historic stage graced
+through eleven years in fashion that has
+added fresh fame to an illustrious name.
+On ordinary occasions when <span class="sc">Speaker</span> rises
+to address House on current topics of business,
+Members who chance to have their hats
+on keep them there. Now, when the stately
+figure is discovered standing under the
+canopy of the Chair, Members without concert,
+but with one accord, bare their heads.
+Throughout a moving scene, which crammed
+much into fifteen minutes, nothing more
+striking than this simultaneous, swift uncovering
+of the head, and the transformation
+that followed when the rare sunlight, streaming
+in from western windows, fell upon five
+hundred unshaded faces all turned towards
+the tall, gowned figure standing by the
+Chair.</p>
+
+<p>The speech will be read to-morrow by
+millions, who will find it word for word and
+sentence by sentence in the newspapers.
+But the reader will gain but faint idea of
+the impression the delivery produced. The
+historic place, the animated scene, the electric
+current of such a gathering, were much.
+The effect was perfected by the elocution of
+the <span class="sc">Speaker</span>, perhaps the most perfect development
+of an attractive but dangerous art
+possessed by living man.</p>
+
+<p>What possibilities underlie its possession
+were wonderingly recognised in the last
+days of the late Parliament, when the directors
+of the Cambrian Railway Company
+were brought to the Bar of the House in
+connection with the dismissal of a station-master
+who had given unwelcome evidence
+before a Select Committee. House in the
+ludicrous pickle which invariably follows
+on Privilege proceedings. Directors summoned
+to attend were somewhere in the
+lobby. If it had been permissible to follow
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="page192" id="page192"></a>[pg 192]</span>
+<i>Dogberry's</i> example in similar circumstances&mdash;to
+take no note of directors, but let them go and presently
+call the rest of the watch together, and
+thank God they were rid of the knaves&mdash;it would
+have been well. But, directors being solemnly
+summoned, must needs be adequately dealt with.
+Finally resolved that <span class="sc">Speaker</span> should admonish
+them. Amid much giggling on part of hysterically
+uneasy House, conscious of its own ludicrous
+position, directors brought in and ranged at Bar.
+Then <span class="sc">Speaker</span> stood up and "most seriously admonished"
+them.</p>
+
+<p>No one present will forget the awesome mien,
+the terrible voice, with which the task was performed.
+At a touch farce was transformed into
+tragedy. Dignity of House, sorely imperilled,
+triumphantly vindicated. To-night the <span class="sc">Speaker's</span>
+phrasing was perfect. Its setting in the delivery
+is untranslateable in speech or written word.</p>
+
+<div class="figleft" style="width: 200px;"><a href="images/192a-500.png"><img src="images/192a-200.png" width="200" height="486" alt="Farewell to Mr. Speaker Peel." /></a>
+<p class="center">Farewell to Mr. Speaker Peel.</p></div>
+
+<p><i>Business done.</i>&mdash;Speaker announces resignation.
+<span class="sc">Squire of Malwood</span> brings in Local Veto Bill.</p>
+
+<p><i>Tuesday.</i>&mdash;"Poof!" said <span class="sc">Sark</span>, mopping his
+brow; "glad that's over. No knowing where it
+might have ended. Danger of last scene in <span class="sc">Speaker's</span>
+leave-taking closing amid burst of irritated laughter.
+When I was first returned, we thought two leaders
+enough for one House. There was the Government
+man on the Treasury Bench, the Leader of Opposition
+on bench opposite. When ceremonial business
+to be done, these two spoke and the whole House
+agreed that its opinions had found expression.
+House rapidly growing into position akin to home
+forces of Prince of <span class="sc">Monaco</span>. Nearly as many captains
+as privates."</p>
+
+<p>These remarks wrung from troubled breast by
+long, at one anxious moment apparently interminable,
+procession of orators in support of resolution
+thanking retiring <span class="sc">Speaker</span> for services in Chair.
+<span class="sc">Squire of Malwood</span> said right thing in admirable
+way. <span class="sc">Prince Arthur</span>, less ornate in phrase, supplied
+a perfect second. These speeches voiced feeling of Ministerialists
+and Opposition. Some reasonableness in <span class="sc">Justin McCarthy's</span>
+interposition, he being leader of distinct party which, as he
+hinted, had in earlier days done battle with <span class="sc">Speaker</span>. But really,
+when it came to <span class="sc">Joseph</span> saying a few words for his
+merry men, and <span class="sc">John Redmond</span> tuning afresh the
+Irish harp on behalf of his, prospect grew alarming.
+If these leaders of sections within a division felt
+called upon to make speeches on such occasion, why
+not <span class="sc">John Burns</span> as a Labour Leader, with <span class="sc">Keir
+Hardie</span> to follow as captain of the Independent
+Labour Party; <span class="sc">Osborne Morgan</span>, purged of profligacy,
+speaking for Wales, followed by <span class="sc">Lloyd-George</span>
+from below the Gangway; <span class="sc">Wilfrid Lawson</span>
+for the Temperance party; Private <span class="sc">Hanbury</span>
+as representing the land forces of the Busy B's;
+Cap'en <span class="sc">Tommy Bowles</span> the naval; <span class="sc">Jacob Bright</span>
+returning thanks for the ladies, <span class="sc">Walter M'Laren</span>
+speaking specially for the section who desire to
+marry their deceased husband's brother? Domesticity
+thus trenched upon, Baron <span class="sc">de Worms</span>, with
+wistful "Long-Lost-Dear-Father" look on his face,
+might close the list by a few words spoken on behalf
+of the family circle.</p>
+
+<p>To-day stopped a little short of this; but shall
+doubtless go the whole way next time opportunity
+presents itself. <i>Business done.</i>&mdash;Thanks of House
+voted to <span class="sc">Speaker</span>.</p>
+
+<p><i>Wednesday.</i>&mdash;By contrast with ordered speech-making
+of yesterday afternoon scene that took place
+in earliest moments of the new day's birth prettier
+by far. For upwards of an hour Members passing
+out homewards stopped to shake the <span class="sc">Speaker's</span> hand
+and bid him farewell. Just before quarter of hour
+chimed after midnight, <span class="sc">Arthur Peel</span> spoke his last
+words in House of Commons.</p>
+
+<p>"The question is," he said, "that this House do
+now adjourn."</p>
+
+<p>As he turned to leave the Chair, Members present
+sprang to feet, cheering continuously till <span class="sc">Arthur
+Peel</span>, for the last time robed in Speaker's wig and
+gown, passed out of sight.</p>
+
+<div class="poem width21">  <div class="stanza">
+<p>For Lochaber no more, Lochaber no more.</p>
+<p>We'll maybe return to Lochaber no more.</p>
+  </div>  </div>
+
+<p><i>Le roi est mort. Vive le roi.</i> <span class="sc">William Court Gully</span> elected
+Speaker by majority of 11 in House of 559 Members.</p>
+
+<p><i>Business done.</i>&mdash;Elect new Speaker, and immediately give him ten
+days' holiday. Adjourn till Monday 22nd.</p>
+
+<hr class="medium" />
+
+<h3>A STUDY IN ETHNOLOGY.</h3>
+
+<div class="poem width21">  <div class="stanza">
+<p>Upon my luck I still reflect,</p>
+<p class="i2">That led us to the same Museum:</p>
+<p>I greeted you with staid respect,</p>
+<p class="i2">But my heart sang its own <i>Te Deum</i>,</p>
+<p>And blessed your Uncle, ere I wist,</p>
+<p>For being an ethnologist!</p>
+  </div><div class="stanza">
+<p>On old Assyrian spoils intent,</p>
+<p class="i2">Our very presence he forgot,</p>
+<p>While we o'er strings of wampum bent&mdash;</p>
+<p class="i2">We saw them and we saw them not.</p>
+<p>He lived within a past long dead,</p>
+<p>We, in the seconds as they sped.</p>
+  </div><div class="stanza">
+<p>Within a carven mirror old,</p>
+<p class="i2">Suddenly, as we wandered by,</p>
+<p>You looked upon your hair of gold</p>
+<p class="i2">And flushing face, and so did I.</p>
+<p>Then on we passed: a vault we found,</p>
+<p>And <span class="sc">Pharaoh's</span> coffin, underground.</p>
+  </div><div class="stanza">
+<p>Oh, if his phantom ever stood</p>
+<p class="i2">Beside the coffin made for him,</p>
+<p>And saw you in your joyous mood,</p>
+<p class="i2">With your bright eyes and figure slim,</p>
+<p>King <span class="sc">Pharaoh</span> might have envied us</p>
+<p>Beside his old sarcophagus!</p>
+  </div><div class="stanza">
+<p>But, <span class="sc">Pharaoh</span>, we, remembering</p>
+<p class="i2">The ancient creed that souls of men</p>
+<p>May see the summer and the spring,</p>
+<p class="i2">May live again, and love again,</p>
+<p>A moment wished the tale were true,</p>
+<p>Because&mdash;it seemed so hard on you!</p>
+  </div>  </div>
+
+<hr class="medium" />
+
+<p class="center"><span class="sc">Wanted in the World of "Art."</span>&mdash;A
+Spring Clean!</p>
+
+<hr class="medium" />
+
+<h3>TO A YOUNG ACTRESS.</h3>
+
+<div class="poem width24">  <div class="stanza">
+<div class="figright" style="width: 150px;"><a href="images/192b-320.png"><img src="images/192b-150.png" width="150" height="216" alt="To a young actress." /></a></div>
+<p>You regret that all you do</p>
+<p>Is to be a lady who</p>
+<p>Just walks on&mdash;a smile or two,</p>
+<p class="i6">Then you're gone;</p>
+<p>For you think that any gawk</p>
+<p>Would be good enough to walk,</p>
+<p>You undoubtedly should talk</p>
+<p class="i6">When you're "on."</p>
+  </div><div class="stanza">
+<p>You are but a sort of show.</p>
+<p>Silence for a girl is slow,</p>
+<p>Speech is woman's right, I know</p>
+<p class="i6">That is true,</p>
+<p>And although your pretty face</p>
+<p>Charms beholders by its grace,</p>
+<p>You would like a higher place,</p>
+<p class="i6">Wouldn't you?</p>
+  </div><div class="stanza">
+<p>But we cannot all have "leads,"</p>
+<p>Nicely suited to our needs,</p>
+<p>To excel in words and deeds,</p>
+<p class="i6">Don't you see?</p>
+<p>So, if you desire to speak,</p>
+<p>I am not so far to seek,</p>
+<p>I would listen for a week&mdash;</p>
+<p class="i6">Talk to me.</p>
+  </div>  </div>
+
+<hr class="medium" />
+
+<p class="ind"><span class="sc">Something Yet!</span>&mdash;"Mr. G." is a proficient
+in several languages. In Italian, as well as
+in Latin, in ancient and modern Greek, he
+can, we believe, converse fluently, when anyone
+gives him a chance. With Russian he
+may be acquainted, for, as this is "caviare to
+the general," it may be equally so to an ex-prime-minister.
+With Spanish Mr. G. is,
+probably, not on speaking terms, though, no
+doubt he is well up in the niceties of the language;
+and there are many spoken languages
+of which he possesses more than a smattering.
+But the accomplished scholar has yet something
+to learn from one <span class="sc">Richard Cumberland</span>,
+a bishop in the last century, not the playwright,
+of whom it is on record that, being a
+proficient in most ancient and modern languages,
+he "began to learn Coptic at the age
+of eighty-three!" Although Mr. G. has
+gone very far north, yet has he not at present
+got up to <span class="sc">Cumberland</span>.</p>
+
+<hr class="medium" />
+
+<p class="ind2"><span class="sc">A Suggestion.</span>&mdash;There are two excellent
+waters, Apollinaris and Johannis, known to
+everyone as "'Polly" and "Jo." Might
+not the two companies amalgamate, and
+reproduce the success of "<span class="sc">My 'Pol' and
+my Partner 'Jo.'</span>"</p>
+
+<hr class="medium" />
+
+<p class="center"><span class="sc">Latest Equivalent for "the East
+Wind," as Replenishment for Hungry
+Stomachs.</span>&mdash;The Royal Commission on the
+Aged Poor.</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<div>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 44707 ***</div>
+</body>
+</html>
+
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+This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements,
+metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be
+in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES.
+
+Procedures for determining public domain status are described in
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+
+No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in
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+Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for
+eBook #44707 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/44707)
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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Punch, or the London Charivari, Vol. 108,
+April 20, 1895, by Various
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: Punch, or the London Charivari, Vol. 108, April 20, 1895
+
+Author: Various
+
+Editor: Sir Francis Burnand
+
+Release Date: January 19, 2014 [EBook #44707]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PUNCH, CHARIVARI, APRIL 20, 1895 ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Malcolm Farmer, Lesley Halamek and the Online
+Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.
+
+Volume 108, APRIL 20, 1895.
+
+_edited by Sir Francis Burnand_
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration: IMPROVING THE SHINING HOUR.
+
+_The New Governess._ "WHAT ARE THE COMPARATIVE AND SUPERLATIVE OF
+_BAD_, BERTY?"
+
+_Berty_ (_the Doctor's son_). "BAD--WORSE--DEAD!"]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+A CHINO-JAPANESE CALENDAR.
+
+(_For the next Ten Years._)
+
+1895. Treaty of peace signed between China and Japan, on the basis of
+the opening up of Chinese territory and introduction of machinery
+into the Celestial Empire. The Japanese prophesy that the compact will
+ultimately prove to be for the benefit of the Chinese.
+
+1896. Japan floods China with home-made merchants, who obtain an
+enormous trade.
+
+1897. England, America and France follow suit, and, after a pause, the
+remainder of the civilized world adopt the prevailing fashion.
+
+1898. Japanese China becomes over-populated, thanks to the foreign
+invasion, and there is much discontent amongst the original
+inhabitants.
+
+1899. The foreigners, having secured all the possible trade that could
+be obtained, commence the erection of manufactories.
+
+1900. Japanese China challenges Birmingham, Glasgow, Lyons, and
+Marseilles on their own ground, and holds its own. It claims to be one
+of the most productive places on the face of the universe.
+
+1901. The introduction of machinery having thrown the teeming millions
+of Japanese China out of work, there is great discontent amongst them.
+
+1902. An enterprising citizen of the United States of America
+projects an emigration scheme for supplying the outer world with the
+superfluous population of Japanese China.
+
+1903. The scheme of the citizen of the U. S. A. proves a great
+success, and sixty millions of Chino-Japanese are conveyed to the two
+worlds, the old and the new.
+
+1904. The original inhabitants of Europe and America, undersold by the
+Chino-Japanese, are ousted from their positions and left without work.
+Consequently, great prosperity of the Chino-Japanese.
+
+1905. Fulfilment of the prophecy, that the treaty of peace between
+China and Japan signed in 1895 was "really for the benefit of the
+Chinese."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+WON'T WASH!
+
+_Or, The British Laundress's Lament._
+
+    [There is talk of a company for taking our laundry-work over
+    to Holland, washing it there, and returning it to the owners
+    at a less cost than it can be done for at home.]
+
+  In matters of laundry the fault of them Dutch,
+  Is charging too little, and grabbing too much!
+  They'd collar our collars, cut off with our shirts!
+  The heart of a true washerwoman it hurts
+  To think of Frows taking _our_ time-honoured tub.
+  What, travel to Holland to get rub and scrub,
+  While soap and strong arms may in Britain be found?
+  It's worse than them Stores! Furrineers may be found
+  To do dirty work on the cheap, I've no doubt;
+  But can old JOHN BULL know just what he's about
+  In sending our work from his shores in _this_ way?
+  I'm sure it won't wash, and I 'ope it won't pay!
+  Shall we to Mynheer and his frowsy Frow truckle,
+  While one English woman has arm, wrist, and knuckle?
+  Forbid it, my sisters! My patriot 'eart
+  Is up in my mouth at this ojus new start.
+  There is an old proverb, and what do it say?
+  It is the true laundress's motter, I say.
+  But what in the world to JOHN BULL can 'ave come
+  If he can't _wash his own dirty linen at 'ome_?
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+A MISMANAGED ACCIDENT.
+
+Have just discovered that the pretty girl I met at the dance the other
+night is a lady nurse at Charing Cross Hospital. Such a nice girl!
+What a charming nurse she must be! Almost wish I was laid up at the
+hospital. In fact, quite wish it. But I can't be. Another outrage
+on the miserable, downtrodden, middle class. If I were one of the
+fortunate, pampered masses, a Working Man, I should be nursed by her,
+if I were ill, and by others, perhaps, like her. Stay! There is
+a chance. If I could be damaged in an accident--not too much
+damaged--and carried to the hospital, they must look after me, and
+nurse me. They couldn't help themselves. Northumberland Avenue--the
+very place! Never cross it without being nearly run over.
+
+Go straight there and look eagerly for the usual rushing hansoms.
+Here's one. Stroll in front of it. Driver pulls aside, shouts and
+swears at me, and goes on. Reflect that some caution is necessary. If
+the wheel went over my neck, even her ministrations would be useless.
+Must be run over judiciously. Better only be knocked down. Stroll
+across road again. Here comes one. Shouts from driver. A large splash
+of mud in my eye. And that's all. These cabmen drive so absurdly well.
+They pull up, or pull aside, or pull somewhere instantly. Wipe my eye,
+and then see something better. Old lady's brougham, from the suburbs,
+driven by the sort of coachman who also works in the garden. He won't
+be able to pull aside quickly. Stroll in front of horse. Shouts from
+gardening coachman. Horse nearly on me. Suddenly pulled back by fussy
+policeman, who says I had a narrow escape. Hang the fellow, of course
+I did! Am obliged to give him ten shillings for his prompt action.
+Begin to despair of this accident. Stroll on nearly to Embankment.
+Immense van coming along at a trot. Much too heavy. I should be
+smashed flat. And this driver seems to want to run over me. Escape
+with difficulty by jumping aside. At that moment something hits my
+legs, I am thrown down, and a wheel passes over my foot. It is a
+costermonger's donkey-cart which was racing the van. How ignominious!
+To be knocked down by a donkey and run over by a truck! Very painful
+too. Feel as if I should faint. Picked up by sympathetic people who
+rush to me. Say feebly to them, "Take me to the hospital." Then faint.
+
+After a short time open my eyes. Am being carried in somewhere. At
+last! I shall forget the pain. I am in the hospital. She will nurse
+me! _She_--oh, heavens! Though I have planned it all, suppose I ought
+to murmur, "Where am I?" Do so. "In St. Thomas's Hospital," says
+somebody.
+
+_A fortnight later._--And I am in it still.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+According to a paragraph last week in the _Westminster Gazette_,
+quoting from the _Australian Review of Reviews_, it appears that the
+Earl of YARMOUTH has been making a sensation in the Colonies as a
+"Skirt-dancer." Queer fish this nobleman! belongs to the Bloater
+Aristocracy.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+A NOBLE PLUNGER.--One day last week in the _Times_ appeared an article
+headed "_Lord Rayleigh on Waves_." Rather early for sea-bathing, eh?
+Evidently so, such prominence having been given to the fact by the
+leading journal.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration: "BETTER LATE THAN NEVER.
+
+_Mr. Punch_ (_welcoming Miss Spring-time_). 'GLAD TO SEE YOU, MY DEAR!
+BEGAN TO THINK YOU WERE NEVER COMING!"]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration: "ANIMAL SPIRITS."
+
+No. XI.--AFTER BANK HOLIDAY.]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"BETTER LATE THAN NEVER."
+
+_Mr. Punch to Miss Spring_:--
+
+  Well, here you are at last, dear! _Are_ the biting blizzards past, dear?
+    And _will_ you guarantee us from subjection to the plumber?
+  Will no casual icy splinter from the serried spears of Winter
+    Put a chill upon your smile, and spoil the promise of the Summer?
+  We've been waiting worn and weary, till e'en cuckoo-songs sound cheery,
+    And belated almond-blossoms show like roses of Cashmere:
+  And the cockney chaunt now flowing, "All-a-blowing _and_ a-growing!"
+    Falls far sweeter than MASCAGNI upon London's longing ear.
+  Where on earth have you been hiding? We are in no mood for chiding,
+    But mid-April's _rather_ late, dear, for what should have come in March!
+  What malignant hocus-pocus has kept back the plucky crocus,
+    Whose gold is scarce yet bursting from the beds the winds still parch?
+  After that six weeks cold snap, dear, of fast frozen pipe and tap, dear,
+    When back to barbarism and to bathlessness fate drove us,
+  And we sicklier grew, and surlier, if you'd come a _leetle_ earlier,--
+    Well, let bygones now be bygones! But O Spring sweet! an you love us,
+  Come--at last, dear--_à la_ HERRICK, with such influence atmospheric
+    As will slay the Influenza; with such fragrance from your flowers,
+  As will knock Malaria silly; let your dear daffydown-dilly
+    From our bodies drive bacilli, and the blight from out our bowers.
+  Slay our Microbes, Spring, and bless us! Like a clinging Shirt of Nessus
+    Morbid sickliness surrounds us in our lives, our books, our art.
+  Oh, if sunshine and your breezes might but slay our soul-diseases,
+    Oust the pestilent miasma that pervades the home, the mart;
+  Neutralise the nauseous virus whose developments so tire us;
+    Disinfect the New Parnassus, purge the New Pierian Spring,
+  Bring us honesty and health, dear, why for all our wit and wealth, dear,
+    We might love like Nature's lovers, and like Nature's poets sing.
+  Ah! we need Spring's prophylactic!--But I'm getting too didactic
+    For a sunny April morning, and a sweet young thing like you.
+  My dear, the London Season, wrapped and furred out of all reason,
+    Has been waiting, decked like Winter, with a nose-tip nearly blue;
+  Waiting, waiting for your coming. Sweet as bees in clover humming
+    Is the first sound of your footfall. Most spontaneous of passions
+  Is the love for you, you darling. You will bring the thrush and starling,
+    And the young leaves and the young lambs, and, what's better--
+      _the Spring Fashions_!!!
+  So no wonder that she greets you with effusion when she meets you.
+    Ah, Spring! 'tis not your lilacs, and your daffodils and stocks,
+  Or the tender leaves the trees on, that most moves Miss London Season,
+    'Tis the hope of "rippin'" frolics and the thought of "trotty" frocks.
+  But an old man's heart, my treasure, beats to quite another measure,
+    Still my sympathies, dear Spring, are with the youngsters and with you.
+  They are looking for love's playtime, and the merry, merry May-time,
+    And the popular R.A. time, and the whole tohu-bohu!
+  Bring the girls delights as dowry, may their social paths be flowery,
+    And your silver drops the only tears they need to look upon.
+  So they're wholesome, may they flourish; and may all Spring influence nourish
+    True manhood and pure womanhood, and--there, my preaching's done!
+  We need a true _Spring Clean_, sweet. Give us parks and gardens green, sweet.
+    And laughter, like your bird-songs pure, un-satyr-like, though clever,
+  Bless our boys, our girls, our babies, yes--_and bring us back our JABEZ_,
+    And we'll pardon your delay, and say 'tis better late than never!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+OPPORTUNITY LOST BY MR. JUSTICE HAWKINS DURING A RECENT CASE WHEN
+HIS LORDSHIP MIGHT HAVE PUT IT TO THE JURY.--"Gentlemen, what is the
+difference, or, as there has been no quarrel, let us say what is the
+distinction between a costumier and a butcher anxious to arrange his
+shop-front to the best advantage? Gentlemen, I will not detain you,
+it is this: The costumier meets out the dresses; the butcher 'dresses
+out' the meats. Gentlemen, you are discharged."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+TO CHARITABLE CHESS-PLAYERS.--A good move at Easter time is--"cheque
+to his Bishop."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+BLIND ALLEY-GORIES.
+
+BY DUNNO WÄHRIAR.
+
+(_Translated from the original Lappish by Mr. Punch's own Hyperborean
+Enthusiast._)
+
+INTRODUCTORY NOTE.
+
+IT affords me no ordinary gratification to be the humble instrument in
+rendering these exquisitely obscure prose-poems--reeking as they
+are with the self-consciousness of so magnificently triumphant
+an Ego--into the English tongue, though I am fully aware of the
+difficulty of preserving all the mystical unintelligibility of the
+original.
+
+DUNNO WÄHRIAR is perhaps the most remarkable personality that his
+native Lapland has yet produced. He first saw the light on April 1,
+1879, at Kandalax, so that he may still be called comparatively young.
+His impressionable, sensitive soul broke out in early revolt against
+the train-oil and tallow which formed the traditionary nutriment of
+his family circle, and in 1883 we find him casting off the shackles
+of conventionality and escaping to Sweden in his sledge-perambulator.
+There he has lived ever since, and has already secured a foremost
+place among the greatest physiological psychologists of Scandinavia.
+As a morbid pathologist, he surpasses STRINDBERG; while in neurotic
+sensitivism, he has hustled HANSSON into a back seat; easily
+beaten BJÖRNSON in diagnosis of the elusive emotions; and taken the
+indigestible cake of slack-baked symbolism from the master hand
+of IBSEN himself! Small wonder, then, that the commonest penwiper
+containing issues from his pen is eagerly sought after by admirers of
+such effusions.
+
+He belongs ('tis true) to the Literary Upper Crust, and is for the few
+rather than the many; while so absolute has been his fidelity to the
+principles of his art, that he has published every one of his works at
+a considerable pecuniary loss.
+
+Need I say more to ensure for him that respectful admiration which the
+public is ever ready to lavish upon anything they fail to understand?
+
+Let me rather efface myself and leave DUNNO WÄHRIAR--or "Young
+GARNAWAY," as is his self-adopted pseudonym--to unfold the rhythmic
+charm of his own inimitable incomprehensibility.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+BLIND ALLEY-GORY THE FIRST.
+
+THE LOST BACKBONE.
+
+One summer evening, when the moon was at the full, and cloud-shadows
+glided imperceptibly over the chimney-pots, as curses that have found
+no utterance and come dejectedly home to roost, I wandered into my
+back-garden, and caught the God of the Period napping in the moonshine
+on one of my celery-beds.
+
+He rose up suddenly and reposed awhile in space, with his head resting
+on the back of the Great Bear, and one foot on the arm of Cassiopeia's
+Chair, while with the other he skimmed the cream off the Milky Way.
+And he seemed to be everywhere and yet nowhere in particular, and
+he said nothing, and I was afraid to make a remark--and there was no
+sound, save that of the boundless, inconceivable silence which was
+rumbling round the corner.
+
+Presently he came down to the celery-bed once more.
+
+"What are you seeking for so late?" asked he; "your face looks so long
+and solemn, and your eyes are hollow and full of woe. Have you been
+having anything indigestible for supper?"
+
+"I am in trouble about Humanity," I replied; "for, though I loathe and
+despise them individually, collectively I love them dearly."
+
+"What's the matter with Humanity?" asked the God, as he squatted amid
+the celery.
+
+"They are growing so deadly dull," I answered. "I am Young GARNAWAY,
+the Pessimistic Prose Poet, and it pains me to see how utterly they
+have lost their perception of the ridiculous, which is the backbone of
+real enjoyment. So I came out to see if by any chance the backbone was
+hidden under one of the flower-pots."
+
+The Period-God once more pervaded the endless space that glittered in
+darkling infinitude round about and right ahead of him. It seemed to
+me, when he returned, that he had been laughing; but suddenly I saw
+him pull himself together, and frown.
+
+And from afar a gurgling rose through the gloom, and darkness fell
+upon my back-garden, knocking a basilisk off the waterbutt, and above
+the garden-walls there appeared a crowd of rude persons, in pot hats,
+with red lolling tongues and wide grinning mouths, holding their sides
+with inextinguishable mirth. All at once the giggles turned into the
+booing of Philistines, and there was a fantastic shadowy horseplay,
+which rolled nearer and nearer.
+
+I saw many myriads of spectral kitten forms, and unsubstantial egg
+shapes rushing towards me through the air. Instinctively I ran indoors
+and gripped the umbrella from its corner, and stood on guard.
+
+[Illustration: "I saw many myriads of spectral kitten forms and
+unsubstantial egg-shapes."]
+
+Then I heard someone chuckling quite close to me, chuckling softly,
+but unmistakably. And the booing hushed, and the gloom lightened, and
+the garden-roller glimmered faintly in the moonlit summer night,
+and inside the lawn-mower lay the God of the Period crying with
+uncontrollable laughter.
+
+"When the time comes," he said, "when mankind gets weary of Paraded
+Pessimism, and the Big Scandinavian Boom has burst, then I will
+conjure forth the Great Guffaw; and _then_ it will be time for all
+Dyspeptic Decadents to get under their umbrellas--just as you did
+awhile ago, for mankind will have recovered its sense of humour, and
+will decline to take them seriously. But you had much better leave off
+bothering your head about that lost backbone, for you won't be happy
+when they get it!"
+
+And while I was taking off my goloshes indoors, I heard again the
+sound of snapping celery sticks, as the Period-God rolled on the bed
+in ecstasies of stifled merriment, and I wondered at intervals what it
+was all about.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+FOR OUTWARD APPLICATION.--"'A man may change his skies,' as the Roman
+poet puts it," quoth the _Daily Telegraph_, "but he does not so easily
+change his habits." The Academy is about to open. The pictures will
+soon be hung. Varnishing day comes, with last chance for alteration.
+Then comes in Latin poetic proverb, "A man may change his skies, but,
+do what he will, he cannot alter that peculiar style that marks the
+work as his, and nobody else's."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+NEW PROVERB.--All "problem" and no "play" makes drama a dull joy.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration: SHOCKING HEATHENISM.
+
+_Rector._ "SO YOU GO UP TO TOWN NEXT MONTH, MISS MARY. HOW I ENVY YOU!
+AND OF COURSE YOU'LL ATTEND THE MAY MEETINGS."
+
+_Miss Mary._ "MAY MEETINGS? OH DEAR NO! THOUGH I ADORE HORSES, I QUITE
+DISAPPROVE OF _RACING_, DON'T YOU KNOW!"]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+OUR BOOKING-OFFICE.
+
+The Baron heartily welcomes the appearance of _Happy Thoughts_ in
+French, under the very attractive style and title of _Fridoline_. No
+fear now of the _entente cordiale_ between England and France being
+disturbed; and that is indeed _une "pensée" la plus "heureuse" ou
+"ingénieuse."_ The dialogue with the patient angler who remains in the
+middle of the stream day after day, and, probably, night after night,
+is quite a little lesson in French.
+
+[Illustration: "Fridoline."]
+
+"_'Pris quelque chose?' 'Rien.' 'Pas mordu du tout?' 'Une fois, je
+crois.' Le pêcheur n'a pas perdu son calme, mais son air n'a rien de
+triomphant._"
+
+And the world goes on and the _mouvement_ continues, and ever and anon
+the Happy Thoughter, returning to the river, finds the same man in the
+same boat in almost the same position. Then, before retiring for the
+night, the H. T. takes one turn on the lawn, "_pour m'assurer_," he
+says, "_que je ne laisse rien derrière moi. Ah si! je laisse l'homme
+au bachot, toujours sa ligne en main. Il avait, paraît-il, un pen
+redescendu le courant. 'Bonne pêche?' 'Non.' 'Pris quelque chose?'
+'Rien.'_" Those who read "_entre les lignes_" may see in this figure
+of unrewarded patience and perseverance more than meets the eye.
+M. AURELIEN DE COURSON has done his work excellently well, "_avec
+l'autorisation de l'auteur_."
+
+I found a book on my table lying among a number of others put aside to
+be read at "a more convenient season." The title attracted me--_Clove
+Pink_. Its leaves are of last autumn, but the story they tell is for
+ever. It is admirably written; its word-painting is the work of a
+true artist: but beginning brightly and gladly, as do the lives of
+the young hero and heroine, it ends sadly but sweetly. If you are not
+averse to a simple, well-told tale, with stirring incidents of modern
+warfare, graphically narrated, that stand out in startling contrast
+to the scenes of quiet English rural life, a story whose pathos and
+simple truth will touch you deeply, read _Clove Pink_, says
+
+  THE BARON DE BOOK-WORMS.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+VERY CATCHING.
+
+In the _Times_ of Monday, April 8, appeared an advertisement headed
+"Lent, Lent--Fish, Fish." This meant, of course, that the season was
+Lent, not that the fishmonger was a lender of fish. And for the season
+it was Holy Week, _i.e._ last week of Lent. Then it goes on "_Have you
+ordered your Good Friday's Dinner?_ If not, do so at once." Excellent
+and most timely advice, seeing it was given on the Monday preceding
+Good Friday. So far so good; but then comes "a reason why" which
+apparently quite upsets the kettle of fish. Here is the extract:--
+
+    "Having made contracts with a number of the leading trawl and
+    line fishermen to take the whole of their prime fish caught
+    during Easter week," &c., &c.
+
+[Illustration:
+  "To-morrow will be Fry day,
+  So we'll catch our fish to-day."
+
+             _Somebody's Song._
+]
+
+What on earth is the good of fish caught in Easter Week to the persons
+who have ordered it for the previous Friday? That's where the trouble
+is. The fishmonger is at sea as well as his good fishermen. If the
+advertisement had been headed "Lent and Easter," then it would have
+been evident that two different subjects were being dealt with, and
+"both caught with one fish," as Mrs. R. might say, adapting a proverb.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+TEMPERATE TO INTEMPERATE.
+
+  Fanatic sophistries, I think,
+    To logic's limits will have shrunk,
+  When zealot's recognize that "drink"
+    Is _not_ identical with "drunk."
+  Difference may be as great you see,
+    'Twixt U and I as You and Me!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+WORDSWORTH FOR WITLERS.--"Drink, pretty creature, drink!"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration: SOCIAL AGONIES.
+
+_Anxious Musician_ (_in a whisper, to Mrs. Lyon Hunter's butler_).
+"WHERE'S MY 'CELLO?"
+
+_Butler_ (_in stentorian tones, to the room_). "SIGNOR WERESMICELLO!"]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+THE NEW ENGLISH ART CLUB.
+
+The other day I went to this exhibition of sublime masterpieces. I was
+about to write a few comments, full of strange epithets and gushing
+praise, when a small girl came in with a lady. The child spoke so
+freely that I paused to listen. This was her criticism. "Oh, mother,
+what's that meant for? I can't see anything. Look at that lady! She's
+got no face at all. Oh, look at that other! She's funnier. What is
+she? A Spanish dancer? Do all Spanish dancers have knobbly faces like
+you might make out of a potato? What are those people skating on? Is
+it cotton wool? Oh, mother, look there! What an ugly lady! Why's she
+put all that red on her cheeks? What's all that other red there? Is it
+another lady? A church in Venice? What Olympia where you took me two
+years ago? Oh, mother, it can't be a church! Unless it's upside down.
+Or perhaps all the paints have run into one another like mine do. Oh,
+look! There's a picture of a washstand. Is it an advertisement of a
+furniture shop? Or is it meant for what father calls a slight wash
+in his water-colour drawings? What are those ladies dancing in sheets
+for? Is it sheets they've got on? Oh what a red face that gentleman's
+got! I don't think they paint very pretty ladies or gentlemen here.
+Oh, mother, look at that! Why it's the funniest of all! Who are the
+two ladies? Why are their clothes slipping down? Why are their faces
+all crooked, and their eyes sideways? Are they meant to be pretty? I
+don't think they are. What do you say it is? Meant to be painted on
+the wall of a room? Is that why they look so funny? Why they look like
+Aunt KITTY, when she's going to have a sea bath, and when----" Here
+the little maiden was suddenly dragged out of the room, and her shrill
+voice was heard no more. But her winged words are not forgotten by
+
+  A CRUSHED CRITIC.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+AN EASTER 'OLIDAY.
+
+    (_A Siesta Song, from the Burlesque Opera "Little Liberal
+    Majority," performed at the Theatre Royal, St. Stephen's._)
+
+  AIR--"_Lazily, Drowsily._"
+
+  When gaily dances the Easter sun,
+    And shelved is each bothersome Bill,
+  Then work and talk for a time are done,
+    And the lobbies are hushed and still.
+            Lazily, lazily,
+            Drowsily, drowsily,
+          Home goes every one;
+            Lazily, lazily,
+            Drowsily, drowsily,
+          Under the April sun.
+          Old St. Stephen's closes;
+          Parliament reposes,
+            Lazily, lazily,
+            Drowsily, drowsily,
+          Forty winks, or fun!
+
+  When the sunlight falls on the Heath's green breast,
+    And blue are the skies above,
+  Each seeks the rest that he loves the best,
+    Or the sport he doth chiefly love.
+  Lazily, lazily, drowsily, drowsily,
+    Donkey riding's fun!
+  Lazily, lazily, drowsily, drowsily,
+    Dawdling under the sun!
+    HARCOURT'S eyelid closes,
+    BALFOUR blandly dozes;
+  Lazily, lazily, drowsily, drowsily,
+    Under the Easter sun!
+
+  Joggle and jolt! _These_ mokes won't bolt!
+    Each flops like an empty sack
+  On the broad back, shaggy as Shetland colt.
+    No donkey boy on _their_ track!
+  Lazily, lazily, drowsily, drowsily,
+    Carelessly jogging on!
+  Lazily, lazily, drowsily, drowsily,
+    Under an Easter sun!
+    Lotos-Land discloses
+    No more bland reposes.
+  Lazily, lazily, drowsily, drowsily,
+    Dawdle they under the sun!
+
+  "That LABBY was often a bore!" sighs WILL,
+    Groans ARTY, "And so was JOE!
+  To drive _these_ donkeys demands small skill!
+    Would Westminster mokes were so!
+  Lazily, lazily, drowsily, drowsily!
+    Riding like this is fun!
+  Lazily, lazily, drowsily, drowsily!
+    Bless us! Who _wants_ to run?
+    'Appy 'Ampstead dozes!
+    Mokes are beds of roses!
+  Lazily, lazily, drowsily, drowsily,
+    Jog we--till holiday's done!"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"THE OBJECTION TO EUCLID" of which we have heard so much recently is
+of very ancient standing, and is shared by nearly every schoolboy.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+PARLIAMENTARY PROVERB.--There's many a slip 'twixt the M.P. and the
+"Whip"!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration: AN EASTER 'OLIDAY.
+
+_Duet_ ('ARCOURT _and_ HARTHUR _sing while being jolted_).
+
+"LA-A-ZI-LY LA-A-ZI-LY! DROW-OW-OW-SILY! DROW-OW-OW-SILY!" &c.]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+MR. PUNCH AT A PICTURE SHOW.
+
+    (_The Collection of Sir John Tenniel's Drawings at the Fine
+    Art Society's Gallery._)
+
+  AIR.--"_My Old Friend John._"
+
+  'Tis forty years, my dear Sir JOHN,
+    Since you and I first met.
+  Lord, how the fleeting hours have flown!
+    But we foregather yet,
+  I gaze on this brave show with pride--
+    Fine art, still in full feather!
+  By Jove, it seems but yesterday
+    Since we were "boys" together.
+
+  Since we were boys, merry, merry boys,
+    At our old Board together!
+
+  There's gladness in remembrance, JOHN;
+    Your pencil-strokes struck true;
+  Through all the shifts of party life,
+    No pause that pencil knew.
+  We've missed old comrades one by one;
+    Our friendship moults no feather;
+  _Can_ forty years and more have run
+    Since we were "boys" together?
+
+  Since we were boys, merry, merry boys,
+    At our old Board together!
+
+  I gaze and proudly ponder, JOHN;
+    I've seen them all before--
+  GLADSTONE, BRIGHT, DIZZY, BULL!--Well done!!!
+    Fresh as in days of yore
+  The Big Cuts gleam. By sea and stream,
+    Moor, mountain, ice-field, heather.
+  Force, grace, fair fun mark all you've done,
+    Since we were "boys" together.
+
+  _Chorus all "Round the Mahogany Tree."_
+
+  Since we were boys, merry, merry boys!
+    So meet we, in full feather,
+  For many sunny years, Sir JOHN,
+    Still boys--at heart--together!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration: FANCY PORTRAIT.
+
+SIR G-RGE L-W-S.
+
+  "BOLD OF YOUR WORTHINESS, WE SINGLE YOU
+  AS OUR BEST-MOVING FAIR SOLICITOR."
+
+  _Love's Labour's Lost_, Act II., Sc. 1.
+]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+THE LAY OF THE LITTLE MINORITY.
+
+AIR--"_Little Buttercup._"
+
+  I'm bumptious Minority--cocky Minority
+    (Though I can hardly tell why),
+  My work is to worry poor weary Majority,
+    Giving him one in the eye.
+
+  On Board or on Council I swagger and bounce 'll,
+    And badger 'em out of their lives.
+  I claim all the graces, and all the best places;
+    Thus cocky Minority thrives!
+
+  Majorities little of claim have no tittle
+    To getting _their_ own wicked way;
+  But cocky Minority has such authority,
+    _His_ should be absolute sway.
+
+  If things are at evens at--well, say St. Stephen's,
+    Spring Gardens, wherever you like,
+  Tis a mere deadlock (like New Woman wedlock),
+    And against Progress we strike.
+
+  If a Majority (small) claims authority
+    To make the tiniest move,
+  Then to prevent it, obstruct, circumvent it,
+    Must be my labour of love.
+
+  But a Minority's superiority
+    Is just as clear as the day.
+  Majorities (small) have one duty, that's all,
+    'Tis--_to let the Minority sway!_
+
+  Then yield to Minority--cocky Minority,
+    On Boards or of Council or School!
+  Hooray for Minority--bumptious Minority!
+    Come--let Minority rule!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+OUR NEXT LITTLE BATTLE.
+
+(_From our Prophetic Reporter, a trifle in advance._)
+
+NOWHAR, _April 1_.--Wett River crossed yesterday in most brilliant
+style. Dashaway Regiment carried landing at point of bayonet, the
+Muffs keeping up well-directed fire during the entire operation.
+However, they seemed to feel effect of our artillery and Maxims.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+When landing effected, Sapping Miners constructed iron bridge
+(with glass covering to protect the troops from the rain) within
+five-and-twenty minutes. During the construction Muffs fired
+continuously at working parties. Flag-staffs riddled with shot,
+consequently colours could not be run up. A round from couple of
+quick-firing guns cleared heights of human obstructions.
+
+On completion of bridge, two troops of 147th Irregular Prancers
+charged enemy with much dash. As gallant horsemen approached Muffs
+(numbering about twenty thousand) concentrated their fire. For few
+minutes Irregulars had to pass through perfect fog of bullets. This
+ordeal did not damp their courage; soon came to close quarters with
+foe. In a moment Muffs were in confusion, flying, before pursuing
+sabres. Irregulars followed retreating enemy for many miles with
+complete success.
+
+While these operations being carried out 17th Battalion of
+Cutandthrust Regiment made assault on fortress protecting right flank
+of Muffs. Enemy opposed charge with well-sustained artillery fire,
+which had it been more judiciously directed might have caused
+considerable annoyance. As it was, many Cutandthrusts lowered their
+heads to allow of undisturbed passage of shrapnell. On reaching
+walls redcoats hopped over like birds. Garrison stubbornly defended
+position. Cutandthrusts extended, advancing in their new formation.
+With wild cheer they again charged. Although this advance caused
+Muffs to fall back, they still retained their ground. At this moment
+machine-guns of battalion were brought into play with best results. A
+couple of rounds immediately broke up enemy's columns and put them
+to flight. Muffs were then routed by 53rd Regiment of Indian Tiger
+Eaters.
+
+By midday position secured. At invitation of bugles exploring party
+"ceased firing," and prepared for mess.
+
+_Later._--I have just received a return of killed and wounded on both
+sides, which I here give:--_Muffs._--Killed, about 20,000; wounded,
+twice as many more. _British._--Killed, none; wounded, No. 35,604,821
+Private SMITH (Cutandthrust Regiment), slight scratch on fourth finger
+of left hand.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+NEW NAME FOR IT (_by Brother Bung_).--Local Hop-shun!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+ALL THE DIFFERENCE.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+  If half the things that CHLOE says to me,
+  If half the pretty kindnesses she shows,
+    By PHYLLIDA were shown or said,
+  Without a tremor I would stake my head
+    That I securely might propose
+      That she my bride would be.
+
+  Yet why? I know full well that CHLOE means
+  Nothing at all. 'Tis but her buoyant way,
+    Her frank "The best of friends, that's all."
+  And yet the stricter GRUNDY 'twould appal
+    To hear the tender things we say
+      Between our quarrel-scenes.
+
+  If one full-leaping pulse's beat
+    Beyond the coldest courtesy's demand
+    I trespass on sweet PHYLLIDA'S coy hand,
+  The thrill is shivered by her quick retreat,
+  Her fingers stiffen like a fossil fin,
+  And I again, a SISYPHUS, begin
+  The task of charming her reserve austere,
+    Palsied by Love's false fear,
+  Which drives the lover's chances down to zero.
+  While some cadaverous and long-chinn'd hero
+  Talks from a height rais'd by his own conceit,
+  And my white goddess listens at his feet.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration: PREHISTORIC PEEPS.
+
+THERE WERE SEASONS (CORRESPONDING TO OUR EASTER, &C.) WHEN THE
+INHABITANTS OF ONE ACCORD GAVE THEMSELVES UP TO RELAXATION AND
+AMUSEMENT!]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+LINES IN PLEASANT PLACES.
+
+THE LAND OF DREAMS.
+
+  There's a wondrous fairy kingdom
+    Whither all may take a trip--
+  Quite an inexpensive journey,
+    It is not by rail or ship--
+  For it lies just where you fancy,
+    And a pleasant thing it seems
+  For a man to sojourn sometimes
+    In the land of dreams.
+
+  'Tis the land where man attaineth
+    To the end of his desire,
+  Where the minor poet warbles
+    And the laurel crowns his lyre:
+  It is there the sucking statesman
+    Works out Machiavellian schemes,
+  And young BRIEFLESS is a leader
+    In the land of dreams.
+
+  'Tis the land of fur and feather,
+    'Tis the paradise of sport,
+  Where the runs beat all recounted
+    O'er the walnuts and the port:
+  It is there the pheasant rockets,
+    It is there the covert teems,
+  And your powder's always straightest
+    In the land of dreams.
+
+  There with ease the patient golfer
+    Plays a record medal-round,
+  And the batsman get his hundred,
+    Hitting clean all round the ground;
+  There old IZAAK'S keen disciple
+    Thrashes quite ideal streams,
+  For he angles most "compleatly"
+    In the land of dreams.
+
+  'Tis a land where someone meets you
+    You may never meet elsewhere,
+  'Tis a land where words are whispered
+    You may whisper only there;
+  'Tis the home of youth and sunshine
+    Where you taste of joy's extremes,
+  For, of course, there's someone loves you
+    In the land of dreams.
+
+  'Tis a land of peace and quiet,
+    Free from yelling paper-boys,
+  And from Germany's musicians,
+    And offensive kinds of noise:
+  There the organ-grinder grinds not,
+    There no restive infant screams.
+  Oh, to spend one's whole existence
+    In the land of dreams!
+
+  'Tis a land where rates and taxes
+    Never need be brooded on,
+  And the cupboard is unfurnished
+    With the homely skeleton:
+  There the roses all are thornless,
+    Life is destitute of seams,
+  And, in short, its worth the living
+    In the land of dreams.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+TO A PRETTY GIRL.
+
+(_Who accepted some verses._)
+
+  You take my lines, and say that you
+    Appreciate my humble verses.
+  That's more than editors will do,
+    Or publishers, with bloated purses.
+  To gain your thanks in such a way,
+  I'd write you verses night and day.
+
+  _You_ don't return them, saying you
+    Regret you cannot now accept them.
+  Or, scrawled with marks in blatant blue,
+    To show that, ruined, you have kept them.
+  If you would pay me with a smile,
+  I'd write you verses by the mile.
+
+  If you could only say that you
+    Would like me for my admiration,
+  To sing your charms till all was blue
+    Would be delightful occupation.
+  If I could hope to win a kiss,
+  I'd write you fifty miles like this.
+
+[Illustration.]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration: _First Boy._ "GIVE US A BITE OF YOUR APPLE, BOB."
+
+_Second Boy._ "SHAN'T."
+
+_First Boy._ "WHAT FOR?"
+
+_Second Boy._ "'COS YER AXED ME!"
+
+(_After a pause._)
+
+_Small Boy._ "GI' ME A BITE, BOB. I NEVER AXED YER!"]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+ESSENCE OF PARLIAMENT.
+
+EXTRACTED FROM THE DIARY OF TOBY, M.P.
+
+_House of Commons, Monday Night, April 8._--House to-night presented
+that appearance seen only on big occasions. Long unfamiliar in slough
+of despond in which present House been steeped since Session opened.
+Every seat on either side occupied. Members sitting on Gangway steps,
+flooding the side galleries, blocking the Bar, peopling even the steps
+of the Chair. ARTHUR PEEL is leaving historic stage graced through
+eleven years in fashion that has added fresh fame to an illustrious
+name. On ordinary occasions when SPEAKER rises to address House on
+current topics of business, Members who chance to have their hats on
+keep them there. Now, when the stately figure is discovered standing
+under the canopy of the Chair, Members without concert, but with one
+accord, bare their heads. Throughout a moving scene, which
+crammed much into fifteen minutes, nothing more striking than this
+simultaneous, swift uncovering of the head, and the transformation
+that followed when the rare sunlight, streaming in from western
+windows, fell upon five hundred unshaded faces all turned towards the
+tall, gowned figure standing by the Chair.
+
+The speech will be read to-morrow by millions, who will find it word
+for word and sentence by sentence in the newspapers. But the reader
+will gain but faint idea of the impression the delivery produced. The
+historic place, the animated scene, the electric current of such a
+gathering, were much. The effect was perfected by the elocution of
+the SPEAKER, perhaps the most perfect development of an attractive but
+dangerous art possessed by living man.
+
+What possibilities underlie its possession were wonderingly recognised
+in the last days of the late Parliament, when the directors of the
+Cambrian Railway Company were brought to the Bar of the House in
+connection with the dismissal of a station-master who had given
+unwelcome evidence before a Select Committee. House in the ludicrous
+pickle which invariably follows on Privilege proceedings. Directors
+summoned to attend were somewhere in the lobby. If it had
+been permissible to follow _Dogberry's_ example in similar
+circumstances--to take no note of directors, but let them go and
+presently call the rest of the watch together, and thank God they
+were rid of the knaves--it would have been well. But, directors
+being solemnly summoned, must needs be adequately dealt with. Finally
+resolved that SPEAKER should admonish them. Amid much giggling on part
+of hysterically uneasy House, conscious of its own ludicrous position,
+directors brought in and ranged at Bar. Then SPEAKER stood up and
+"most seriously admonished" them.
+
+No one present will forget the awesome mien, the terrible voice, with
+which the task was performed. At a touch farce was transformed into
+tragedy. Dignity of House, sorely imperilled, triumphantly vindicated.
+To-night the SPEAKER'S phrasing was perfect. Its setting in the
+delivery is untranslateable in speech or written word.
+
+_Business done._--Speaker announces resignation. SQUIRE OF MALWOOD
+brings in Local Veto Bill.
+
+_Tuesday._--"Poof!" said SARK, mopping his brow; "glad that's over. No
+knowing where it might have ended. Danger of last scene in SPEAKER'S
+leave-taking closing amid burst of irritated laughter. When I was
+first returned, we thought two leaders enough for one House. There was
+the Government man on the Treasury Bench, the Leader of Opposition on
+bench opposite. When ceremonial business to be done, these two spoke
+and the whole House agreed that its opinions had found expression.
+House rapidly growing into position akin to home forces of Prince of
+MONACO. Nearly as many captains as privates."
+
+These remarks wrung from troubled breast by long, at one anxious
+moment apparently interminable, procession of orators in support of
+resolution thanking retiring SPEAKER for services in Chair. SQUIRE OF
+MALWOOD said right thing in admirable way. PRINCE ARTHUR, less ornate
+in phrase, supplied a perfect second. These speeches voiced feeling
+of Ministerialists and Opposition. Some reasonableness in JUSTIN
+MCCARTHY'S interposition, he being leader of distinct party which, as
+he hinted, had in earlier days done battle with SPEAKER. But really,
+when it came to JOSEPH saying a few words for his merry men, and JOHN
+REDMOND tuning afresh the Irish harp on behalf of his, prospect grew
+alarming. If these leaders of sections within a division felt called
+upon to make speeches on such occasion, why not JOHN BURNS as a Labour
+Leader, with KEIR HARDIE to follow as captain of the Independent
+Labour Party; OSBORNE MORGAN, purged of profligacy, speaking for
+Wales, followed by LLOYD-GEORGE from below the Gangway; WILFRID LAWSON
+for the Temperance party; Private HANBURY as representing the land
+forces of the Busy B's; Cap'en TOMMY BOWLES the naval; JACOB BRIGHT
+returning thanks for the ladies, WALTER M'LAREN speaking specially
+for the section who desire to marry their deceased husband's
+brother? Domesticity thus trenched upon, Baron DE WORMS, with wistful
+"Long-Lost-Dear-Father" look on his face, might close the list by a
+few words spoken on behalf of the family circle.
+
+To-day stopped a little short of this; but shall doubtless go
+the whole way next time opportunity presents itself. _Business
+done._--Thanks of House voted to SPEAKER.
+
+_Wednesday._--By contrast with ordered speech-making of yesterday
+afternoon scene that took place in earliest moments of the new day's
+birth prettier by far. For upwards of an hour Members passing out
+homewards stopped to shake the SPEAKER'S hand and bid him farewell.
+Just before quarter of hour chimed after midnight, ARTHUR PEEL spoke
+his last words in House of Commons.
+
+"The question is," he said, "that this House do now adjourn."
+
+As he turned to leave the Chair, Members present sprang to feet,
+cheering continuously till ARTHUR PEEL, for the last time robed in
+Speaker's wig and gown, passed out of sight.
+
+  For Lochaber no more, Lochaber no more.
+  We'll maybe return to Lochaber no more.
+
+_Le roi est mort. Vive le roi._ WILLIAM COURT GULLY elected Speaker by
+majority of 11 in House of 559 Members.
+
+[Illustration: Farewell to Mr. Speaker Peel.]
+
+_Business done._--Elect new Speaker, and immediately give him ten
+days' holiday. Adjourn till Monday 22nd.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+A STUDY IN ETHNOLOGY.
+
+  Upon my luck I still reflect,
+    That led us to the same Museum:
+  I greeted you with staid respect,
+    But my heart sang its own _Te Deum_,
+  And blessed your Uncle, ere I wist,
+  For being an ethnologist!
+
+  On old Assyrian spoils intent,
+    Our very presence he forgot,
+  While we o'er strings of wampum bent--
+    We saw them and we saw them not.
+  He lived within a past long dead,
+  We, in the seconds as they sped.
+
+  Within a carven mirror old,
+    Suddenly, as we wandered by,
+  You looked upon your hair of gold
+    And flushing face, and so did I.
+  Then on we passed: a vault we found,
+  And PHARAOH'S coffin, underground.
+
+  Oh, if his phantom ever stood
+    Beside the coffin made for him,
+  And saw you in your joyous mood,
+    With your bright eyes and figure slim,
+  King PHARAOH might have envied us
+  Beside his old sarcophagus!
+
+  But, PHARAOH, we, remembering
+    The ancient creed that souls of men
+  May see the summer and the spring,
+    May live again, and love again,
+  A moment wished the tale were true,
+  Because--it seemed so hard on you!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+WANTED IN THE WORLD OF "ART."--A Spring Clean!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+TO A YOUNG ACTRESS.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+  You regret that all you do
+  Is to be a lady who
+  Just walks on--a smile or two,
+        Then you're gone;
+  For you think that any gawk
+  Would be good enough to walk,
+  You undoubtedly should talk
+        When you're "on."
+
+  You are but a sort of show.
+  Silence for a girl is slow,
+  Speech is woman's right, I know
+        That is true,
+  And although your pretty face
+  Charms beholders by its grace,
+  You would like a higher place,
+        Wouldn't you?
+
+  But we cannot all have "leads,"
+  Nicely suited to our needs,
+  To excel in words and deeds,
+        Don't you see?
+  So, if you desire to speak,
+  I am not so far to seek,
+  I would listen for a week--
+        Talk to me.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+SOMETHING YET!--"Mr. G." is a proficient in several languages. In
+Italian, as well as in Latin, in ancient and modern Greek, he can,
+we believe, converse fluently, when anyone gives him a chance.
+With Russian he may be acquainted, for, as this is "caviare to the
+general," it may be equally so to an ex-prime-minister. With Spanish
+Mr. G. is, probably, not on speaking terms, though, no doubt he is
+well up in the niceties of the language; and there are many spoken
+languages of which he possesses more than a smattering. But the
+accomplished scholar has yet something to learn from one RICHARD
+CUMBERLAND, a bishop in the last century, not the playwright, of whom
+it is on record that, being a proficient in most ancient and modern
+languages, he "began to learn Coptic at the age of eighty-three!"
+Although Mr. G. has gone very far north, yet has he not at present got
+up to CUMBERLAND.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+A SUGGESTION.--There are two excellent waters, Apollinaris and
+Johannis, known to everyone as "'Polly" and "Jo." Might not the two
+companies amalgamate, and reproduce the success of "MY 'POL' AND MY
+PARTNER 'JO.'"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+LATEST EQUIVALENT FOR "THE EAST WIND," AS REPLENISHMENT FOR HUNGRY
+STOMACHS.--The Royal Commission on the Aged Poor.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Punch, or the London Charivari, Vol.
+108, April 20, 1895, by Various
+
+*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PUNCH, CHARIVARI, APRIL 20, 1895 ***
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+<pre>
+
+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Punch, or the London Charivari, Vol. 108,
+April 20, 1895, by Various
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: Punch, or the London Charivari, Vol. 108, April 20, 1895
+
+Author: Various
+
+Editor: Sir Francis Burnand
+
+Release Date: January 19, 2014 [EBook #44707]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PUNCH, CHARIVARI, APRIL 20, 1895 ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Malcolm Farmer, Lesley Halamek and the Online
+Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net
+
+
+
+
+
+
+</pre>
+
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page181" id="page181"></a>[pg 181]</span></p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<h1>PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.<br />
+
+<small>Volume 108, <span class="sc">April 20, 1895</span></small><br />
+
+<span class="smaller"><i>edited by Sir Francis Burnand</i></span></h1>
+
+<hr />
+
+<div class="figcenter1" style="width: 400px;"><a href="images/181-800.png"><img src="images/181-300.png" width="300" height="452" alt="IMPROVING THE SHINING HOUR." /></a>
+<h3 class="sans">IMPROVING THE SHINING HOUR.</h3>
+
+<p><i>The New Governess.</i> "<span class="sc">What are the Comparative and Superlative
+of <i>Bad</i>, Berty?</span>"</p>
+
+<p><i>Berty</i> (<i>the Doctor's son</i>). "<span class="sc">Bad</span>&mdash;<span class="sc">Worse</span>&mdash;<span class="sc">Dead!</span>"</p></div>
+
+<hr class="medium" />
+
+<h2>A CHINO-JAPANESE CALENDAR.</h2>
+
+<p class="title1">(<i>For the next Ten Years.</i>)</p>
+
+<ul class="none">
+<li>1895. &nbsp;Treaty of peace signed between China and Japan, on the
+basis of the opening up of Chinese territory and introduction of
+machinery into the Celestial Empire. The Japanese prophesy that
+the compact will ultimately prove to be for the benefit of the Chinese.</li>
+
+<li>1896. &nbsp;Japan floods China with home-made merchants, who obtain
+an enormous trade.</li>
+
+<li>1897. &nbsp;England, America and France follow suit, and, after a
+pause, the remainder of the civilized world adopt the prevailing
+fashion.</li>
+
+<li>1898. &nbsp;Japanese China becomes over-populated, thanks to the
+foreign invasion, and there is much discontent amongst the original
+inhabitants.</li>
+
+<li>1899. &nbsp;The foreigners, having secured all the possible trade that
+could be obtained, commence the erection of manufactories.</li>
+
+<li>1900. &nbsp;Japanese China challenges Birmingham, Glasgow, Lyons,
+and Marseilles on their own ground, and holds its own. It claims to
+be one of the most productive places on the face of the universe.</li>
+
+<li>1901. &nbsp;The introduction of machinery having thrown the teeming
+millions of Japanese China out of work, there is great discontent
+amongst them.</li>
+
+<li>1902. &nbsp;An enterprising citizen of the United States of America
+projects an emigration scheme for supplying the outer world with the
+superfluous population of Japanese China.</li>
+
+<li>1903. &nbsp;The scheme of the citizen of the U. S. A. proves a great
+success, and sixty millions of Chino-Japanese are conveyed to the
+two worlds, the old and the new.</li>
+
+<li>1904. &nbsp;The original inhabitants of Europe and America, undersold
+by the Chino-Japanese, are ousted from their positions and left without
+work. Consequently, great prosperity of the Chino-Japanese.</li>
+
+<li>1905. &nbsp;Fulfilment of the prophecy, that the treaty of peace between
+China and Japan signed in 1895 was "really for the benefit of the
+Chinese."</li>
+</ul>
+
+<hr class="medium" />
+
+<h2>WON'T WASH!</h2>
+
+<p class="title1">Or, The British Laundress's Lament.</p>
+
+<p class="ind3">
+[There is talk of a company for taking our laundry-work over to Holland,
+washing it there, and returning it to the owners at a less cost than it can be
+done for at home.]
+</p>
+
+<div class="poem width24">  <div class="stanza">
+<p>In matters of laundry the fault of them Dutch,</p>
+<p>Is charging too little, and grabbing too much!</p>
+<p>They'd collar our collars, cut off with our shirts!</p>
+<p>The heart of a true washerwoman it hurts</p>
+<p>To think of Frows taking <em>our</em> time-honoured tub.</p>
+<p>What, travel to Holland to get rub and scrub,</p>
+<p>While soap and strong arms may in Britain be found?</p>
+<p>It's worse than them Stores! Furrineers may be found</p>
+<p>To do dirty work on the cheap, I've no doubt;</p>
+<p>But can old <span class="sc">John Bull</span> know just what he's about</p>
+<p>In sending our work from his shores in <em>this</em> way?</p>
+<p>I'm sure it won't wash, and I 'ope it won't pay!</p>
+<p>Shall we to Mynheer and his frowsy Frow truckle,</p>
+<p>While one English woman has arm, wrist, and knuckle?</p>
+<p>Forbid it, my sisters! My patriot 'eart</p>
+<p>Is up in my mouth at this ojus new start.</p>
+<p>There is an old proverb, and what do it say?</p>
+<p>It is the true laundress's motter, I say.</p>
+<p>But what in the world to <span class="sc">John Bull</span> can 'ave come</p>
+<p>If he can't <em>wash his own dirty linen at 'ome</em>?</p>
+  </div>  </div>
+
+<hr class="medium" />
+
+<h2>A MISMANAGED ACCIDENT.</h2>
+
+<p>Have just discovered that the pretty girl I met at the dance the
+other night is a lady nurse at Charing Cross Hospital. Such a nice
+girl! What a charming nurse she must be! Almost wish I was
+laid up at the hospital. In fact, quite wish it. But I can't be.
+Another outrage on the miserable, downtrodden, middle class. If I
+were one of the fortunate, pampered masses, a Working Man, I
+should be nursed by her, if I were ill, and by others, perhaps, like
+her. Stay! There is a chance. If I could be damaged in an
+accident&mdash;not too much damaged&mdash;and carried to the hospital, they
+must look after me, and nurse me. They couldn't help themselves.
+Northumberland Avenue&mdash;the very place! Never cross it without
+being nearly run over.</p>
+
+<p>Go straight there and look eagerly for the usual rushing hansoms.
+Here's one. Stroll in front of it. Driver pulls aside, shouts and
+swears at me, and goes on. Reflect that some caution is necessary.
+If the wheel went over my neck, even her ministrations would
+be useless. Must be run over judiciously. Better only be knocked
+down. Stroll across road again. Here comes one. Shouts from
+driver. A large splash of mud in my eye. And that's all. These
+cabmen drive so absurdly well. They pull up, or pull aside, or
+pull somewhere instantly. Wipe my eye, and then see something
+better. Old lady's brougham, from the suburbs, driven by the sort
+of coachman who also works in the garden. He won't be able to pull
+aside quickly. Stroll in front of horse. Shouts from gardening
+coachman. Horse nearly on me. Suddenly pulled back by fussy
+policeman, who says I had a narrow escape. Hang the fellow, of
+course I did! Am obliged to give him ten shillings for his prompt
+action. Begin to despair of this accident. Stroll on nearly to Embankment.
+Immense van coming along at a trot. Much too heavy.
+I should be smashed flat. And this driver seems to want to run
+over me. Escape with difficulty by jumping aside. At that moment
+something hits my legs, I am thrown down, and a wheel passes over
+my foot. It is a costermonger's donkey-cart which was racing the
+van. How ignominious! To be knocked down by a donkey and run
+over by a truck! Very painful too. Feel as if I should faint.
+Picked up by sympathetic people who rush to me. Say feebly to
+them, "Take me to the hospital." Then faint.</p>
+
+<p>After a short time open my eyes. Am being carried in somewhere.
+At last! I shall forget the pain. I am in the hospital. She will
+nurse me! <i>She</i>&mdash;oh, heavens! Though I have planned it all,
+suppose I ought to murmur, "Where am I?" Do so. "In St.
+Thomas's Hospital," says somebody.</p>
+
+<p class="ind"><i>A fortnight later.</i>&mdash;And I am in it still.</p>
+
+<hr class="medium" />
+
+<p class="ind1">According to a paragraph last week in the <cite>Westminster Gazette</cite>,
+quoting from the <cite>Australian Review of Reviews</cite>, it appears that the
+Earl of <span class="sc">Yarmouth</span> has been making a sensation in the Colonies as a
+"Skirt-dancer." Queer fish this nobleman! belongs to the Bloater
+Aristocracy.</p>
+
+<hr class="medium" />
+
+<p class="ind2"><span class="sc">A Noble Plunger.</span>&mdash;One day last week in the <cite>Times</cite> appeared an
+article headed "<cite>Lord Rayleigh on Waves</cite>." Rather early for sea-bathing,
+eh? Evidently so, such prominence having been given to
+the fact by the leading journal.</p>
+
+<hr class="medium" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page182" id="page182"></a>[pg 182]</span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 375px;"><a href="images/182-1100.png"><img src="images/182-375.png" width="375" height="482" alt="'BETTER LATE THAN NEVER.'" /></a>
+<h3 class="sans">"BETTER LATE THAN NEVER.</h3>
+
+<p><i>Mr. Punch</i> (<i>welcoming Miss Spring-time</i>). '<span class="sc">Glad to see you, my dear! Began to think you were never coming!</span>'"</p></div>
+
+<hr class="medium" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page183" id="page183"></a>[pg 183]</span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;"><a href="images/183-1500.png"><img src="images/183-600.png" width="600" height="329" alt="'ANIMAL SPIRITS.'" /></a>
+<h3 class="sans">"ANIMAL SPIRITS."</h3>
+
+<p class="title2">No. XI.&mdash;<span class="sc">After Bank Holiday.</span></p></div>
+
+<hr class="medium" />
+
+<h3>"BETTER LATE THAN NEVER."</h3>
+
+<p class="title1">Mr. Punch to Miss Spring:&mdash;</p>
+
+<div class="poem width33">  <div class="stanza">
+<p>Well, here you are at last, dear! <i>Are</i> the biting blizzards past, dear?</p>
+<p class="i2">And <i>will</i> you guarantee us from subjection to the plumber?</p>
+<p>Will no casual icy splinter from the serried spears of Winter</p>
+<p class="i2">Put a chill upon your smile, and spoil the promise of the Summer?</p>
+<p>We've been waiting worn and weary, till e'en cuckoo-songs sound cheery,</p>
+<p class="i2">And belated almond-blossoms show like roses of Cashmere:</p>
+<p>And the cockney chaunt now flowing, "All-a-blowing <i>and</i> a-growing!"</p>
+<p class="i2">Falls far sweeter than <span class="sc">Mascagni</span> upon London's longing ear.</p>
+<p>Where on earth have you been hiding? We are in no mood for chiding,</p>
+<p class="i2">But mid-April's <i>rather</i> late, dear, for what should have come in March!</p>
+<p>What malignant hocus-pocus has kept back the plucky crocus,</p>
+<p class="i2">Whose gold is scarce yet bursting from the beds the winds still parch?</p>
+<p>After that six weeks cold snap, dear, of fast frozen pipe and tap, dear,</p>
+<p class="i2">When back to barbarism and to bathlessness fate drove us,</p>
+<p>And we sicklier grew, and surlier, if you'd come a <i>leetle</i> earlier,&mdash;</p>
+<p class="i2">Well, let bygones now be bygones! But O Spring sweet! an you love us,</p>
+<p>Come&mdash;at last, dear&mdash;<i>à la</i> <span class="sc">Herrick</span>, with such influence atmospheric</p>
+<p class="i2">As will slay the Influenza; with such fragrance from your flowers,</p>
+<p>As will knock Malaria silly; let your dear daffydown-dilly</p>
+<p class="i2">From our bodies drive bacilli, and the blight from out our bowers.</p>
+<p>Slay our Microbes, Spring, and bless us! Like a clinging Shirt of Nessus</p>
+<p class="i2">Morbid sickliness surrounds us in our lives, our books, our art.</p>
+<p>Oh, if sunshine and your breezes might but slay our soul-diseases,</p>
+<p class="i2">Oust the pestilent miasma that pervades the home, the mart;</p>
+<p>Neutralise the nauseous virus whose developments so tire us;</p>
+<p class="i2">Disinfect the New Parnassus, purge the New Pierian Spring,</p>
+<p>Bring us honesty and health, dear, why for all our wit and wealth, dear,</p>
+<p class="i2">We might love like Nature's lovers, and like Nature's poets sing.</p>
+<p>Ah! we need Spring's prophylactic!&mdash;But I'm getting too didactic</p>
+<p class="i2">For a sunny April morning, and a sweet young thing like you.</p>
+<p>My dear, the London Season, wrapped and furred out of all reason,</p>
+<p class="i2">Has been waiting, decked like Winter, with a nose-tip nearly blue;</p>
+<p>Waiting, waiting for your coming. Sweet as bees in clover humming</p>
+<p class="i2">Is the first sound of your footfall. Most spontaneous of passions</p>
+<p>Is the love for you, you darling. You will bring the thrush and starling,</p>
+<p class="i2">And the young leaves and the young lambs, and, what's better&mdash;</p>
+<p class="i4"><i>the Spring Fashions</i>!!!</p>
+<p>So no wonder that she greets you with effusion when she meets you.</p>
+<p class="i2">Ah, Spring! 'tis not your lilacs, and your daffodils and stocks,</p>
+<p>Or the tender leaves the trees on, that most moves Miss London Season,</p>
+<p class="i2">'Tis the hope of "rippin'" frolics and the thought of "trotty" frocks.</p>
+<p>But an old man's heart, my treasure, beats to quite another measure,</p>
+<p class="i2">Still my sympathies, dear Spring, are with the youngsters and with you.</p>
+<p>They are looking for love's playtime, and the merry, merry May-time,</p>
+<p class="i2">And the popular R.A. time, and the whole tohu-bohu!</p>
+<p>Bring the girls delights as dowry, may their social paths be flowery,</p>
+<p class="i2">And your silver drops the only tears they need to look upon.</p>
+<p>So they're wholesome, may they flourish; and may all Spring influence nourish</p>
+<p class="i2">True manhood and pure womanhood, and&mdash;there, my preaching's done!</p>
+<p>We need a true <i>Spring Clean</i>, sweet. Give us parks and gardens green, sweet.</p>
+<p class="i2">And laughter, like your bird-songs pure, un-satyr-like, though clever,</p>
+<p>Bless our boys, our girls, our babies, yes&mdash;<i>and bring us back our <span class="sc">Jabez</span></i>,</p>
+<p class="i2">And we'll pardon your delay, and say 'tis better late than never!</p>
+  </div>  </div>
+
+<hr class="medium" />
+
+<p class="ind2"><span class="sc">Opportunity lost by Mr. Justice Hawkins during a recent
+Case when His Lordship might have put it to the Jury.</span>&mdash;"Gentlemen,
+what is the difference, or, as there has been no quarrel,
+let us say what is the distinction between a costumier and a butcher
+anxious to arrange his shop-front to the best advantage? Gentlemen,
+I will not detain you, it is this: The costumier meets out the
+dresses; the butcher 'dresses out' the meats. Gentlemen, you are
+discharged."</p>
+
+<hr class="medium" />
+
+<p class="center"><span class="sc">To Charitable Chess-Players.</span>&mdash;A good move at Easter time is&mdash;"cheque
+to his Bishop."</p>
+
+<hr class="medium" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page184" id="page184"></a>[pg 184]</span></p>
+
+<h3 class="sans">BLIND ALLEY-GORIES.</h3>
+
+<p class="title2"><span class="sc">By Dunno Währiar.</span></p>
+
+<p class="title2a">(<i>Translated from the original Lappish by Mr. Punch's own
+Hyperborean Enthusiast.</i>)</p>
+
+<p class="title">Introductory Note.</p>
+
+<p>IT affords me no ordinary gratification to be the humble instrument
+in rendering these exquisitely obscure prose-poems&mdash;reeking as they
+are with the self-consciousness of so magnificently triumphant an
+Ego&mdash;into the English tongue, though I am fully aware of the difficulty
+of preserving all the mystical unintelligibility of the original.</p>
+
+<p><span class="sc">Dunno Währiar</span> is
+perhaps the most remarkable
+personality
+that his native Lapland
+has yet produced. He
+first saw the light on
+April 1, 1879, at Kandalax,
+so that he may
+still be called comparatively
+young. His impressionable,
+sensitive
+soul broke out in early
+revolt against the train-oil
+and tallow which
+formed the traditionary
+nutriment of his family
+circle, and in 1883 we
+find him casting off the
+shackles of conventionality
+and escaping to
+Sweden in his sledge-perambulator.
+There
+he has lived ever since,
+and has already secured
+a foremost place among
+the greatest physiological
+psychologists of
+Scandinavia. As a morbid
+pathologist, he surpasses
+<span class="sc">Strindberg</span>;
+while in neurotic sensitivism,
+he has hustled
+<span class="sc">Hansson</span> into a back
+seat; easily beaten
+<span class="sc">Björnson</span> in diagnosis
+of the elusive emotions;
+and taken the indigestible
+cake of slack-baked
+symbolism from
+the master hand of <span class="sc">Ibsen</span>
+himself! Small
+wonder, then, that the
+commonest penwiper
+containing issues from
+his pen is eagerly sought
+after by admirers of such effusions.</p>
+
+<p>He belongs ('tis true) to the Literary Upper Crust, and is for the
+few rather than the many; while so absolute has been his fidelity to
+the principles of his art, that he has published every one of his works
+at a considerable pecuniary loss.</p>
+
+<p>Need I say more to ensure for him that respectful admiration
+which the public is ever ready to lavish upon anything they fail to
+understand?</p>
+
+<p>Let me rather efface myself and leave <span class="sc">Dunno Währiar</span>&mdash;or
+"Young <span class="sc">Garnaway</span>," as is his self-adopted pseudonym&mdash;to unfold
+the rhythmic charm of his own inimitable incomprehensibility.</p>
+
+<hr class="medium" />
+
+<h3>BLIND ALLEY-GORY THE FIRST.</h3>
+
+<p class="title2">THE LOST BACKBONE.</p>
+
+<p>One summer evening, when the moon was at the full, and cloud-shadows
+glided imperceptibly over the chimney-pots, as curses that
+have found no utterance and come dejectedly home to roost, I wandered
+into my back-garden, and caught the God of the Period napping
+in the moonshine on one of my celery-beds.</p>
+
+<p>He rose up suddenly and reposed awhile in space, with his head
+resting on the back of the Great Bear, and one foot on the arm of
+Cassiopeia's Chair, while with the other he skimmed the cream off the
+Milky Way. And he seemed to be everywhere and yet nowhere in
+particular, and he said nothing, and I was afraid to make a remark&mdash;and
+there was no sound, save that of the boundless, inconceivable
+silence which was rumbling round the corner.</p>
+
+<p>Presently he came down to the celery-bed once more.</p>
+
+<p>"What are you seeking for so late?" asked he; "your face looks
+so long and solemn, and your eyes are hollow and full of woe. Have
+you been having anything indigestible for supper?"</p>
+
+<p>"I am in trouble about Humanity," I replied; "for, though I
+loathe and despise them individually, collectively I love them
+dearly."</p>
+
+<p>"What's the matter with Humanity?" asked the God, as he
+squatted amid the celery.</p>
+
+<p>"They are growing so deadly dull," I answered. "I am Young
+<span class="sc">Garnaway</span>, the Pessimistic Prose Poet, and it pains me to see how
+utterly they have lost their perception of the ridiculous, which is the
+backbone of real enjoyment. So I came out to see if by any chance
+the backbone was hidden under one of the flower-pots."</p>
+
+<div class="figright" style="width: 450px;"><a href="images/184-1200.png"><img src="images/184-450.png" width="450" height="470" alt="'I saw many myriads of spectral kitten forms and unsubstantial egg-shapes.'" /></a>
+"I saw many myriads of spectral kitten forms and unsubstantial egg-shapes."</div>
+
+<p>The Period-God once more pervaded the endless space that glittered
+in darkling infinitude
+round about and right ahead of him. It seemed to me, when he returned,
+that he had been laughing; but suddenly I saw him pull himself together, and frown.</p>
+
+<p>And from afar a gurgling rose through the gloom, and darkness fell
+upon my back-garden, knocking a basilisk off the waterbutt, and
+above the garden-walls there appeared a crowd of rude persons, in pot
+hats, with red lolling tongues and wide grinning mouths, holding
+their sides with inextinguishable mirth. All at once the giggles
+turned into the booing of Philistines, and there was a fantastic shadowy
+horseplay, which rolled nearer and nearer.</p>
+
+<p>I saw many myriads of spectral kitten forms, and unsubstantial egg
+shapes rushing towards me through the air. Instinctively I ran indoors
+and gripped the umbrella from its corner, and stood on guard.</p>
+
+<p>Then I heard someone chuckling quite close
+to me, chuckling softly, but unmistakably. And the booing hushed,
+and the gloom lightened, and the garden-roller glimmered faintly
+in the moonlit summer night, and inside the lawn-mower lay the God
+of the Period crying with uncontrollable laughter.</p>
+
+<p>"When the time comes," he said, "when mankind gets weary of
+Paraded Pessimism, and the Big Scandinavian Boom has burst, then
+I will conjure forth the Great Guffaw; and <i>then</i> it will be time for
+all Dyspeptic Decadents to get under their umbrellas&mdash;just as you
+did awhile ago, for mankind will have recovered its sense of
+humour, and will decline to take them seriously. But you had much
+better leave off bothering your head about that lost backbone, for
+you won't be happy when they get it!"</p>
+
+<p>And while I was taking off my goloshes indoors, I heard again the
+sound of snapping celery sticks, as the Period-God rolled on the
+bed in ecstasies of stifled merriment, and I wondered at intervals
+what it was all about.</p>
+
+<hr class="medium" />
+
+<p class="ind1"><span class="sc">For Outward Application.</span>&mdash;"'A man may change his skies,'
+as the Roman poet puts it," quoth the <i>Daily Telegraph</i>, "but he
+does not so easily change his habits." The Academy is about to
+open. The pictures will soon be hung. Varnishing day comes, with
+last chance for alteration. Then comes in Latin poetic proverb,
+"A man may change his skies, but, do what he will, he cannot alter
+that peculiar style that marks the work as his, and nobody else's."</p>
+
+<hr class="medium" />
+
+<p class="center"><span class="sc">New Proverb.</span>&mdash;All "problem" and no "play" makes drama a
+dull joy.</p>
+
+<hr class="medium" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page185" id="page185"></a>[pg 185]</span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter1" style="width: 600px;"><a href="images/185a-1500.png"><img src="images/185a-600.png" width="600" height="382" alt="SHOCKING HEATHENISM." /></a>
+<h3 class="sans">SHOCKING HEATHENISM.</h3>
+
+<p><i>Rector.</i> "<span class="sc">So you go up to Town next month, Miss Mary. How I envy you! And of course you'll attend the May Meetings.</span>"</p>
+
+<p><i>Miss Mary.</i> "<span class="sc">May Meetings? Oh dear no! Though I adore Horses, I quite disapprove of <i>Racing</i>, don't you know!</span>"</p></div>
+
+<hr class="medium" />
+
+<h2>OUR BOOKING-OFFICE.</h2>
+
+<div class="figleft" style="width: 100px;"><a href="images/185b-300.png"><img src="images/185b-100.png" width="100" height="219" alt="'Fridoline.'" /></a>
+<p class="center">"Fridoline."</p></div>
+
+<p>The Baron heartily welcomes the appearance of <i>Happy Thoughts</i>
+in French, under the very attractive style and title of <i>Fridoline</i>. No
+fear now of the <i>entente cordiale</i> between England and France being
+disturbed; and that is indeed <i>une "pensée" la plus "heureuse" ou
+"ingénieuse."</i> The dialogue with the patient angler who remains
+in the middle of the stream day after day, and, probably, night after
+night, is quite a little lesson in French.</p>
+
+<p>"<i>'Pris quelque chose?' 'Rien.' 'Pas
+mordu du tout?' 'Une fois, je crois.' Le
+pêcheur n'a pas perdu son calme, mais son air
+n'a rien de triomphant.</i>"</p>
+
+<p>And the world goes on and the <i>mouvement</i>
+continues, and ever and anon the Happy
+Thoughter, returning to the river, finds the
+same man in the same boat in almost the same
+position. Then, before retiring for the night,
+the H. T. takes one turn on the lawn, "<i>pour
+m'assurer</i>," he says, "<i>que je ne laisse rien
+derrière moi. Ah si! je laisse l'homme au
+bachot, toujours sa ligne en main. Il avait,
+paraît-il, un pen redescendu le courant.
+'Bonne pêche?' 'Non.' 'Pris quelque
+chose?' 'Rien.'</i>" Those who read "<i>entre
+les lignes</i>" may see in this figure of unrewarded
+patience and perseverance more than
+meets the eye. <span class="sc">M. Aurelien de Courson</span> has
+done his work excellently well, "<i>avec l'autorisation
+de l'auteur</i>."</p>
+
+<p>I found a book on my table lying among a
+number of others put aside to be read at "a more convenient season."
+The title attracted me&mdash;<i>Clove Pink</i>. Its leaves are of last autumn,
+but the story they tell is for ever. It is admirably written; its word-painting
+is the work of a true artist: but beginning brightly and
+gladly, as do the lives of the young hero and heroine, it ends sadly
+but sweetly. If you are not averse to a simple, well-told tale, with
+stirring incidents of modern warfare, graphically narrated, that
+stand out in startling contrast to the scenes of quiet English rural
+life, a story whose pathos and simple truth will touch you deeply,
+read <i>Clove Pink</i>, says</p>
+
+<p class="author"><span class="sc">The Baron de Book-Worms</span>.</p>
+
+<hr class="medium" />
+
+<h3>VERY CATCHING.</h3>
+
+<div class="figright" style="width: 250px;"><a href="images/185c-400.png"><img src="images/185c-150.png" width="150" height="153" alt="'To-morrow will be Fry day," /></a>
+<div class="poem width21">  <div class="stanza">
+<p>"To-morrow will be Fry day,</p>
+<p>So we'll catch our fish to-day."</p>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+
+<p class="i10"><i>Somebody's Song.</i></p>
+  </div>  </div>
+</div>
+
+<p>In the <cite>Times</cite> of Monday, April 8, appeared an advertisement
+headed "Lent, Lent&mdash;Fish, Fish." This meant, of course, that the
+season was Lent, not that the fishmonger was a lender of fish. And
+for the season it was Holy Week,
+<i>i.e.</i> last week of Lent. Then it
+goes on "<em>Have you ordered your
+Good Friday's Dinner?</em> If not,
+do so at once." Excellent and most
+timely advice, seeing it was given
+on the Monday preceding Good
+Friday. So far so good; but then
+comes "a reason why" which apparently
+quite upsets the kettle of
+fish. Here is the extract:&mdash;</p>
+
+<blockquote><p>
+"Having made contracts with a
+number of the leading trawl and line
+fishermen to take the whole of their
+prime fish caught during Easter week,"
+&amp;c., &amp;c.
+</p></blockquote>
+
+<p>What on earth is the good of fish
+caught in Easter Week to the persons
+who have ordered it for the
+previous Friday? That's where the trouble is. The fishmonger is
+at sea as well as his good fishermen. If the advertisement had been
+headed "Lent and Easter," then it would have been evident that
+two different subjects were being dealt with, and "both caught with
+one fish," as Mrs. R. might say, adapting a proverb.<br /><br /><br /></p>
+
+<hr class="medium" />
+
+<h3 class="sq">TEMPERATE TO INTEMPERATE.</h3>
+
+<div class="poem width15">  <div class="stanza">
+<p><span class="sc">Fanatic</span> sophistries, I think,</p>
+<p class="i2">To logic's limits will have shrunk,</p>
+<p>When zealot's recognize that "drink"</p>
+<p class="i2">Is <em>not</em> identical with "drunk."</p>
+<p>Difference may be as great you see,</p>
+<p class="i2">'Twixt U and I as You and Me!</p>
+  </div>  </div>
+
+<hr class="medium" />
+
+<p class="center"><span class="sc">Wordsworth for Witlers.</span>&mdash;"Drink, pretty creature, drink!"</p>
+
+<hr class="medium" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page186" id="page186"></a>[pg 186]</span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter1" style="width: 450px;"><a href="images/186-990.png"><img src="images/186-320.png" width="320" height="483" alt="SOCIAL AGONIES." /></a>
+<h3 class="sans">SOCIAL AGONIES.</h3>
+
+<p><i>Anxious Musician</i> (<i>in a whisper, to Mrs. Lyon Hunter's butler</i>). "<span class="sc">Where's my 'Cello?</span>"</p>
+
+<p><i>Butler</i> (<i>in stentorian tones, to the room</i>). "<span class="sc">Signor Weresmicello!</span>"</p></div>
+
+<hr class="medium" />
+
+<h3>THE NEW ENGLISH ART CLUB.</h3>
+
+<p>The other day I went to this exhibition of
+sublime masterpieces. I was about to write
+a few comments, full of strange epithets and
+gushing praise, when a small girl came in
+with a lady. The child spoke so freely that
+I paused to listen. This was her criticism.
+"Oh, mother, what's that meant for? I
+can't see anything. Look at that lady! She's
+got no face at all. Oh, look at that other!
+She's funnier. What is she? A Spanish
+dancer? Do all Spanish dancers have knobbly
+faces like you might make out of a potato?
+What are those people skating on? Is it
+cotton wool? Oh, mother, look there! What
+an ugly lady! Why's she put all that red
+on her cheeks? What's all that other red
+there? Is it another lady? A church in
+Venice? What Olympia where you took me
+two years ago? Oh, mother, it can't be a
+church! Unless it's upside down. Or perhaps
+all the paints have run into one another
+like mine do. Oh, look! There's a picture
+of a washstand. Is it an advertisement of a
+furniture shop? Or is it meant for what
+father calls a slight wash in his water-colour
+drawings? What are those ladies dancing in
+sheets for? Is it sheets they've got on?
+Oh what a red face that gentleman's got!
+I don't think they paint very pretty ladies or
+gentlemen here. Oh, mother, look at that!
+Why it's the funniest of all! Who are the
+two ladies? Why are their clothes slipping
+down? Why are their faces all crooked, and
+their eyes sideways? Are they meant to be
+pretty? I don't think they are. What do
+you say it is? Meant to be painted on the
+wall of a room? Is that why they look so
+funny? Why they look like Aunt <span class="sc">Kitty</span>,
+when she's going to have a sea bath, and
+when&mdash;&mdash;" Here the little maiden was suddenly
+dragged out of the room, and her shrill
+voice was heard no more. But her winged
+words are not forgotten by</p>
+
+<p class="author"><span class="sc">A Crushed Critic</span>.</p>
+
+<hr class="medium" />
+
+<h3>AN EASTER 'OLIDAY.</h3>
+
+<p class="title2">(<i>A Siesta Song, from the Burlesque Opera
+"Little Liberal Majority," performed at the
+Theatre Royal, St. Stephen's.</i>)</p>
+
+<p class="title2a"><span class="sc">Air</span>&mdash;"<i>Lazily, Drowsily.</i>"</p>
+
+<div class="poem width24">  <div class="stanza">
+<p>When gaily dances the Easter sun,</p>
+<p class="i2">And shelved is each bothersome Bill,</p>
+<p>Then work and talk for a time are done,</p>
+<p class="i2">And the lobbies are hushed and still.</p>
+<p class="i10">Lazily, lazily,</p>
+<p class="i10">Drowsily, drowsily,</p>
+<p class="i8">Home goes every one;</p>
+<p class="i10">Lazily, lazily,</p>
+<p class="i10">Drowsily, drowsily,</p>
+<p class="i8">Under the April sun.</p>
+<p class="i8">Old St. Stephen's closes;</p>
+<p class="i8">Parliament reposes,</p>
+<p class="i10">Lazily, lazily,</p>
+<p class="i10">Drowsily, drowsily,</p>
+<p class="i8">Forty winks, or fun!</p>
+  </div><div class="stanza">
+<p>When the sunlight falls on the Heath's green breast,</p>
+<p class="i2">And blue are the skies above,</p>
+<p>Each seeks the rest that he loves the best,</p>
+<p class="i2">Or the sport he doth chiefly love.</p>
+<p>Lazily, lazily, drowsily, drowsily,</p>
+<p class="i2">Donkey riding's fun!</p>
+<p>Lazily, lazily, drowsily, drowsily,</p>
+<p class="i2">Dawdling under the sun!</p>
+<p class="i2"> <span class="sc">Harcourt's</span> eyelid closes,</p>
+<p class="i2"> <span class="sc">Balfour</span> blandly dozes;</p>
+<p>Lazily, lazily, drowsily, drowsily,</p>
+<p class="i2">Under the Easter sun!</p>
+  </div><div class="stanza">
+<p>Joggle and jolt! <i>These</i> mokes won't bolt!</p>
+<p class="i2">Each flops like an empty sack</p>
+<p>On the broad back, shaggy as Shetland colt.</p>
+<p class="i2">No donkey boy on <i>their</i> track!</p>
+<p>Lazily, lazily, drowsily, drowsily,</p>
+<p class="i2">Carelessly jogging on!</p>
+<p>Lazily, lazily, drowsily, drowsily,</p>
+<p class="i2">Under an Easter sun!</p>
+<p class="i2">Lotos-Land discloses</p>
+<p class="i2">No more bland reposes.</p>
+<p>Lazily, lazily, drowsily, drowsily,</p>
+<p class="i2">Dawdle they under the sun!</p>
+  </div><div class="stanza">
+<p>"That <span class="sc">Labby</span> was often a bore!" sighs <span class="sc">Will</span>,</p>
+<p class="i2">Groans <span class="sc">Arty</span>, "And so was <span class="sc">Joe</span>!</p>
+<p>To drive <i>these</i> donkeys demands small skill!</p>
+<p class="i2">Would Westminster mokes were so!</p>
+<p>Lazily, lazily, drowsily, drowsily!</p>
+<p class="i2">Riding like this is fun!</p>
+<p>Lazily, lazily, drowsily, drowsily!</p>
+<p class="i2">Bless us! Who <i>wants</i> to run?</p>
+<p class="i2">'Appy 'Ampstead dozes!</p>
+<p class="i2">Mokes are beds of roses!</p>
+<p>Lazily, lazily, drowsily, drowsily,</p>
+<p class="i2">Jog we&mdash;till holiday's done!"</p>
+  </div>  </div>
+
+<hr class="medium" />
+
+<p class="center">"<span class="sc">The Objection to Euclid</span>" of which
+we have heard so much recently is of very
+ancient standing, and is shared by nearly
+every schoolboy.</p>
+
+<hr class="medium" />
+
+<p class="center"><span class="sc">Parliamentary Proverb.</span>&mdash;There's many
+a slip 'twixt the M.P. and the "Whip"!</p>
+
+<hr class="medium" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page187" id="page187"></a>[pg 187]</span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;"><a href="images/187-1200.png"><img src="images/187-400.png" width="400" height="454" alt="AN EASTER 'OLIDAY." /></a>
+<h2>AN EASTER 'OLIDAY.</h2>
+
+<p><i>Duet</i> (<span class="sc">'Arcourt</span> <i>and</i> <span class="sc">Harthur</span> <i>sing while being jolted</i>).</p>
+
+<p>"LA-A-ZI-LY LA-A-ZI-LY! DROW-OW-OW-SILY! DROW-OW-OW-SILY!" &amp;c.</p></div>
+
+<hr class="medium" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page188" id="page188"></a>[pg 188]</span><br /></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page189" id="page189"></a>[pg 189]</span></p>
+
+<h3 class="sans">MR. PUNCH AT A PICTURE SHOW.</h3>
+
+<p class="title2">(<i>The Collection of Sir John Tenniel's
+Drawings at the Fine Art Society's
+Gallery.</i>)</p>
+
+<p class="title2a"><span class="sc">Air.</span>&mdash;"<i>My Old Friend John.</i>"</p>
+
+<div class="poem width24">  <div class="stanza">
+<p>'Tis forty years, my dear Sir <span class="sc">John</span>,</p>
+<p class="i2">Since you and I first met.</p>
+<p>Lord, how the fleeting hours have flown!</p>
+<p class="i2">But we foregather yet,</p>
+<p>I gaze on this brave show with pride&mdash;</p>
+<p class="i2">Fine art, still in full feather!</p>
+<p>By Jove, it seems but yesterday</p>
+<p class="i2">Since we were "boys" together.</p>
+  </div><div class="stanza">
+<p>Since we were boys, merry, merry boys,</p>
+<p class="i2">At our old Board together!</p>
+  </div><div class="stanza">
+<p>There's gladness in remembrance, <span class="sc">John</span>;</p>
+<p class="i2">Your pencil-strokes struck true;</p>
+<p>Through all the shifts of party life,</p>
+<p class="i2">No pause that pencil knew.</p>
+<p>We've missed old comrades one by one;</p>
+<p class="i2">Our friendship moults no feather;</p>
+<p><i>Can</i> forty years and more have run</p>
+<p class="i2">Since we were "boys" together?</p>
+  </div><div class="stanza">
+<p>Since we were boys, merry, merry boys,</p>
+<p class="i2">At our old Board together!</p>
+  </div><div class="stanza">
+<p>I gaze and proudly ponder, <span class="sc">John</span>;</p>
+<p class="i2">I've seen them all before&mdash;</p>
+<p><span class="sc">Gladstone, Bright, Dizzy, Bull!</span>&mdash;Well done!!!</p>
+<p class="i2">Fresh as in days of yore</p>
+<p>The Big Cuts gleam. By sea and stream,</p>
+<p class="i2">Moor, mountain, ice-field, heather.</p>
+<p>Force, grace, fair fun mark all you've done,</p>
+<p class="i2">Since we were "boys" together.</p>
+  </div>  </div>
+
+<p class="title1"><i>Chorus all "Round the Mahogany
+Tree."</i></p>
+
+<div class="poem width24">  <div class="stanza">
+<p>Since we were boys, merry, merry boys!</p>
+<p class="i2">So meet we, in full feather,</p>
+<p>For many sunny years, Sir <span class="sc">John</span>,</p>
+<p class="i2">Still boys&mdash;at heart&mdash;together!</p>
+  </div>  </div>
+
+<hr class="medium" />
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 350px;"><a href="images/189a-900.png"><img src="images/189a-330.png" width="330" height="461" alt="FANCY PORTRAIT." /></a>
+<h3 class="sans">FANCY PORTRAIT.</h3>
+
+<p class="center">SIR G-RGE L-W-S.</p>
+
+<div class="poem width27">  <div class="stanza">
+<p>"<span class="sc">Bold of your worthiness, we single you</span></p>
+<p><span class="sc">As our best-moving fair solicitor.</span>"</p>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<p class="i10"><i>Love's Labour's Lost</i>, Act II., Sc. 1.</p>
+ </div>  </div></div>
+
+<hr class="medium" />
+
+<h3 class="sans">THE LAY OF THE LITTLE MINORITY.</h3>
+
+<p class="title2"><span class="sc">Air</span>&mdash;"<i>Little Buttercup.</i>"</p>
+
+<div class="poem width24">  <div class="stanza">
+<p>I'm bumptious Minority&mdash;cocky Minority</p>
+<p class="i2">(Though I can hardly tell why),</p>
+<p>My work is to worry poor weary Majority,</p>
+<p class="i2">Giving him one in the eye.</p>
+  </div><div class="stanza">
+<p>On Board or on Council I swagger and bounce 'll,</p>
+<p class="i2">And badger 'em out of their lives.</p>
+<p>I claim all the graces, and all the best places;</p>
+<p class="i2">Thus cocky Minority thrives!</p>
+  </div><div class="stanza">
+<p>Majorities little of claim have no tittle</p>
+<p class="i2">To getting <i>their</i> own wicked way;</p>
+<p>But cocky Minority has such authority,</p>
+<p class="i2"><i>His</i> should be absolute sway.</p>
+  </div><div class="stanza">
+<p>If things are at evens at&mdash;well, say St. Stephen's,</p>
+<p class="i2">Spring Gardens, wherever you like,</p>
+<p>Tis a mere deadlock (like New Woman wedlock),</p>
+<p class="i2">And against Progress we strike.</p>
+  </div><div class="stanza">
+<p>If a Majority (small) claims authority</p>
+<p class="i2">To make the tiniest move,</p>
+<p>Then to prevent it, obstruct, circumvent it,</p>
+<p class="i2">Must be my labour of love.</p>
+  </div><div class="stanza">
+<p>But a Minority's superiority</p>
+<p class="i2">Is just as clear as the day.</p>
+<p>Majorities (small) have one duty, that's all,</p>
+<p class="i2">'Tis&mdash;<i>to let the Minority sway!</i></p>
+  </div><div class="stanza">
+<p>Then yield to Minority&mdash;cocky Minority,</p>
+<p class="i2">On Boards or of Council or School!</p>
+<p>Hooray for Minority&mdash;bumptious Minority!</p>
+<p class="i2">Come&mdash;let Minority rule!</p>
+  </div>  </div>
+
+<hr class="medium" />
+
+<h3>OUR NEXT LITTLE BATTLE.</h3>
+
+<p class="title1">(<i>From our Prophetic Reporter, a trifle
+in advance.</i>)</p>
+
+<p><span class="sc">Nowhar</span>, <i>April 1</i>.&mdash;Wett River crossed
+yesterday in most brilliant style. Dashaway
+Regiment carried landing at point of bayonet,
+the Muffs keeping up
+well-directed fire during
+the entire operation.
+However, they seemed
+to feel effect of our artillery
+and Maxims.</p>
+
+<div class="figleft" style="width: 100px;"><a href="images/189b-280.png"><img src="images/189b-100.png" width="100" height="154" alt="" /></a></div>
+
+<p>When landing effected,
+Sapping Miners
+constructed iron bridge
+(with glass covering to
+protect the troops from
+the rain) within five-and-twenty
+minutes.
+During the construction
+Muffs fired continuously
+at working parties. Flag-staffs riddled with
+shot, consequently colours could not be run
+up. A round from couple of quick-firing
+guns cleared heights of human obstructions.</p>
+
+<p>On completion of bridge, two troops of 147th
+Irregular Prancers charged enemy with much
+dash. As gallant horsemen approached
+Muffs (numbering about twenty thousand)
+concentrated their fire. For few minutes
+Irregulars had to pass through perfect fog
+of bullets. This ordeal did not damp their
+courage; soon came to close quarters with
+foe. In a moment Muffs were in confusion,
+flying, before pursuing sabres. Irregulars
+followed retreating enemy for many miles
+with complete success.</p>
+
+<p>While these operations being carried out
+17th Battalion of Cutandthrust Regiment
+made assault on fortress protecting right
+flank of Muffs. Enemy opposed charge with
+well-sustained artillery fire, which had it been
+more judiciously directed might have caused
+considerable annoyance. As it was, many
+Cutandthrusts lowered their heads to allow
+of undisturbed passage of shrapnell. On
+reaching walls redcoats hopped over like
+birds. Garrison stubbornly defended position.
+Cutandthrusts extended, advancing in
+their new formation. With wild cheer they
+again charged. Although this advance caused
+Muffs to fall back, they still retained their
+ground. At this moment machine-guns of
+battalion were brought into play with best
+results. A couple of rounds immediately
+broke up enemy's columns and put them to
+flight. Muffs were then routed by 53rd Regiment
+of Indian Tiger Eaters.</p>
+
+<p>By midday position secured. At invitation
+of bugles exploring party "ceased firing,"
+and prepared for mess.</p>
+
+<p><i>Later.</i>&mdash;I have just received a return of
+killed and wounded on both sides, which I
+here give:&mdash;<i>Muffs.</i>&mdash;Killed, about 20,000;
+wounded, twice as many more. <i>British.</i>&mdash;Killed,
+none; wounded, No. 35,604,821
+Private <span class="sc">Smith</span> (Cutandthrust Regiment),
+slight scratch on fourth finger of left hand.</p>
+
+<hr class="medium" />
+
+<p class="center"><span class="sc">New Name for It</span> (<i>by Brother Bung</i>).&mdash;Local Hop-shun!</p>
+
+<hr class="medium" />
+
+<h3>ALL THE DIFFERENCE.</h3>
+
+<div class="poem width24">  <div class="stanza">
+<div class="figright" style="width: 60px;"><a href="images/189c-200.png"><img src="images/189c-60.png" width="60" height="171" alt="All the difference." /></a></div>
+<p>If half the things that <span class="sc">Chloe</span> says to me,</p>
+<p>If half the pretty kindnesses she shows,</p>
+<p class="i2">By <span class="sc">Phyllida</span> were shown or said,</p>
+<p>Without a tremor I would stake my head</p>
+<p class="i2">That I securely might propose</p>
+<p class="i4">That she my bride would be.</p>
+  </div><div class="stanza">
+<p>Yet why? I know full well that <span class="sc">Chloe</span> means</p>
+<p>Nothing at all. 'Tis but her buoyant way,</p>
+<p class="i2">Her frank "The best of friends, that's all."</p>
+<p>And yet the stricter <span class="sc">Grundy</span> 'twould appal</p>
+<p class="i2">To hear the tender things we say</p>
+<p class="i4">Between our quarrel-scenes.</p>
+  </div><div class="stanza">
+<p>If one full-leaping pulse's beat</p>
+<p class="i2">Beyond the coldest courtesy's demand</p>
+<p class="i2">I trespass on sweet <span class="sc">Phyllida's</span> coy hand,</p>
+<p>The thrill is shivered by her quick retreat,</p>
+<p>Her fingers stiffen like a fossil fin,</p>
+<p>And I again, a <span class="sc">Sisyphus</span>, begin</p>
+<p>The task of charming her reserve austere,</p>
+<p class="i2">Palsied by Love's false fear,</p>
+<p>Which drives the lover's chances down to zero.</p>
+<p>While some cadaverous and long-chinn'd hero</p>
+<p>Talks from a height rais'd by his own conceit,</p>
+<p>And my white goddess listens at his feet.</p>
+  </div>  </div>
+
+<hr class="medium" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page190" id="page190"></a>[pg 190]</span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;"><a href="images/190-1500.png"><img src="images/190-600.png" width="600" height="430" alt="PREHISTORIC PEEPS." /></a>
+<h3 class="sans">PREHISTORIC PEEPS.</h3>
+
+<p><span class="sc">There were Seasons (corresponding to our Easter, &amp;c.) when the Inhabitants of one accord gave themselves up to Relaxation and Amusement!</span></p></div>
+
+<hr class="medium" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page191" id="page191"></a>[pg 191]</span></p>
+
+<h3>LINES IN PLEASANT PLACES.</h3>
+
+<p class="title2">THE LAND OF DREAMS.</p>
+
+<div class="poem width21">  <div class="stanza">
+<p>There's a wondrous fairy kingdom</p>
+<p class="i2">Whither all may take a trip&mdash;</p>
+<p>Quite an inexpensive journey,</p>
+<p class="i2">It is not by rail or ship&mdash;</p>
+<p>For it lies just where you fancy,</p>
+<p class="i2">And a pleasant thing it seems</p>
+<p>For a man to sojourn sometimes</p>
+<p class="i2">In the land of dreams.</p>
+  </div><div class="stanza">
+<p>'Tis the land where man attaineth</p>
+<p class="i2">To the end of his desire,</p>
+<p>Where the minor poet warbles</p>
+<p class="i2">And the laurel crowns his lyre:</p>
+<p>It is there the sucking statesman</p>
+<p class="i2">Works out Machiavellian schemes,</p>
+<p>And young <span class="sc">Briefless</span> is a leader</p>
+<p class="i2">In the land of dreams.</p>
+  </div><div class="stanza">
+<p>'Tis the land of fur and feather,</p>
+<p class="i2">'Tis the paradise of sport,</p>
+<p>Where the runs beat all recounted</p>
+<p class="i2">O'er the walnuts and the port:</p>
+<p>It is there the pheasant rockets,</p>
+<p class="i2">It is there the covert teems,</p>
+<p>And your powder's always straightest</p>
+<p class="i2">In the land of dreams.</p>
+  </div><div class="stanza">
+<p>There with ease the patient golfer</p>
+<p class="i2">Plays a record medal-round,</p>
+<p>And the batsman get his hundred,</p>
+<p class="i2">Hitting clean all round the ground;</p>
+<p>There old <span class="sc">Izaak's</span> keen disciple</p>
+<p class="i2">Thrashes quite ideal streams,</p>
+<p>For he angles most "compleatly"</p>
+<p class="i2">In the land of dreams.</p>
+  </div><div class="stanza">
+<p>'Tis a land where someone meets you</p>
+<p class="i2">You may never meet elsewhere,</p>
+<p>'Tis a land where words are whispered</p>
+<p class="i2">You may whisper only there;</p>
+<p>'Tis the home of youth and sunshine</p>
+<p class="i2">Where you taste of joy's extremes,</p>
+<p>For, of course, there's someone loves you</p>
+<p class="i2">In the land of dreams.</p>
+  </div><div class="stanza">
+<p>'Tis a land of peace and quiet,</p>
+<p class="i2">Free from yelling paper-boys,</p>
+<p>And from Germany's musicians,</p>
+<p class="i2">And offensive kinds of noise:</p>
+<p>There the organ-grinder grinds not,</p>
+<p class="i2">There no restive infant screams.</p>
+<p>Oh, to spend one's whole existence</p>
+<p class="i2">In the land of dreams!</p>
+  </div><div class="stanza">
+<p>'Tis a land where rates and taxes</p>
+<p class="i2">Never need be brooded on,</p>
+<p>And the cupboard is unfurnished</p>
+<p class="i2">With the homely skeleton:</p>
+<p>There the roses all are thornless,</p>
+<p class="i2">Life is destitute of seams,</p>
+<p>And, in short, its worth the living</p>
+<p class="i2">In the land of dreams.</p>
+  </div>  </div>
+
+<hr class="medium" />
+
+<h3>TO A PRETTY GIRL.</h3>
+
+<p class="title2">(<i>Who accepted some verses.</i>)</p>
+
+<div class="poem width30">  <div class="stanza">
+<div class="figright" style="width: 150px;"><a href="images/191a-350.png"><img src="images/191a-150.png" width="150" height="171" alt="To a pretty girl." /></a></div>
+<p>You take my lines, and say that you</p>
+<p class="i2">Appreciate my humble verses.</p>
+<p>That's more than editors will do,</p>
+<p class="i2">Or publishers, with bloated purses.</p>
+<p>To gain your thanks in such a way,</p>
+<p>I'd write you verses night and day.</p>
+  </div><div class="stanza">
+<p><i>You</i> don't return them, saying you</p>
+<p class="i2">Regret you cannot now accept them.</p>
+<p>Or, scrawled with marks in blatant blue,</p>
+<p class="i2">To show that, ruined, you have kept them.</p>
+<p>If you would pay me with a smile,</p>
+<p>I'd write you verses by the mile.</p>
+  </div><div class="stanza">
+<p>If you could only say that you</p>
+<p class="i2">Would like me for my admiration,</p>
+<p>To sing your charms till all was blue</p>
+<p class="i2">Would be delightful occupation.</p>
+<p>If I could hope to win a kiss,</p>
+<p>I'd write you fifty miles like this.</p>
+  </div>  </div>
+
+<hr class="medium" />
+
+<div class="figcenter1" style="width: 520px;"><a href="images/191b-1200.png"><img src="images/191b-400.png" width="400" height="474" alt="First Boy. 'Give us a Bite of your Apple, Bob.'" /></a>
+<table summary="layout" border="0">
+<tr>
+      <td class="left"><i>First Boy.</i> "<span class="sc">Give us a Bite of your Apple, Bob.</span>"</td>
+	  <td class="left1"><i>Second Boy.</i> "<span class="sc">Shan't.</span>"</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+      <td class="left"><i>First Boy.</i> "<span class="sc">What for?</span>"</td>
+	  <td class="left1"><i>Second Boy.</i> "<span class="sc">'Cos yer axed me!</span>"</td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+
+<p class="center2">(<i>After a pause.</i>)</p>
+
+<p class="less"><i>Small Boy.</i> "<span class="sc">Gi' me a Bite, Bob. I never axed yer!</span>"</p></div>
+
+<hr class="medium" />
+
+<h2 class="sans">ESSENCE OF PARLIAMENT.</h2>
+
+<p class="title">Extracted from the Diary of Toby, M.P.</p>
+
+<p><i>House of Commons, Monday Night,
+April 8.</i>&mdash;House to-night presented that
+appearance seen only on big occasions.
+Long unfamiliar in slough of despond in
+which present House been steeped since
+Session opened. Every seat on either side
+occupied. Members sitting on Gangway
+steps, flooding the side galleries, blocking
+the Bar, peopling even the steps of the Chair.
+<span class="sc">Arthur Peel</span> is leaving historic stage graced
+through eleven years in fashion that has
+added fresh fame to an illustrious name.
+On ordinary occasions when <span class="sc">Speaker</span> rises
+to address House on current topics of business,
+Members who chance to have their hats
+on keep them there. Now, when the stately
+figure is discovered standing under the
+canopy of the Chair, Members without concert,
+but with one accord, bare their heads.
+Throughout a moving scene, which crammed
+much into fifteen minutes, nothing more
+striking than this simultaneous, swift uncovering
+of the head, and the transformation
+that followed when the rare sunlight, streaming
+in from western windows, fell upon five
+hundred unshaded faces all turned towards
+the tall, gowned figure standing by the
+Chair.</p>
+
+<p>The speech will be read to-morrow by
+millions, who will find it word for word and
+sentence by sentence in the newspapers.
+But the reader will gain but faint idea of
+the impression the delivery produced. The
+historic place, the animated scene, the electric
+current of such a gathering, were much.
+The effect was perfected by the elocution of
+the <span class="sc">Speaker</span>, perhaps the most perfect development
+of an attractive but dangerous art
+possessed by living man.</p>
+
+<p>What possibilities underlie its possession
+were wonderingly recognised in the last
+days of the late Parliament, when the directors
+of the Cambrian Railway Company
+were brought to the Bar of the House in
+connection with the dismissal of a station-master
+who had given unwelcome evidence
+before a Select Committee. House in the
+ludicrous pickle which invariably follows
+on Privilege proceedings. Directors summoned
+to attend were somewhere in the
+lobby. If it had been permissible to follow
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="page192" id="page192"></a>[pg 192]</span>
+<i>Dogberry's</i> example in similar circumstances&mdash;to
+take no note of directors, but let them go and presently
+call the rest of the watch together, and
+thank God they were rid of the knaves&mdash;it would
+have been well. But, directors being solemnly
+summoned, must needs be adequately dealt with.
+Finally resolved that <span class="sc">Speaker</span> should admonish
+them. Amid much giggling on part of hysterically
+uneasy House, conscious of its own ludicrous
+position, directors brought in and ranged at Bar.
+Then <span class="sc">Speaker</span> stood up and "most seriously admonished"
+them.</p>
+
+<p>No one present will forget the awesome mien,
+the terrible voice, with which the task was performed.
+At a touch farce was transformed into
+tragedy. Dignity of House, sorely imperilled,
+triumphantly vindicated. To-night the <span class="sc">Speaker's</span>
+phrasing was perfect. Its setting in the delivery
+is untranslateable in speech or written word.</p>
+
+<div class="figleft" style="width: 200px;"><a href="images/192a-500.png"><img src="images/192a-200.png" width="200" height="486" alt="Farewell to Mr. Speaker Peel." /></a>
+<p class="center">Farewell to Mr. Speaker Peel.</p></div>
+
+<p><i>Business done.</i>&mdash;Speaker announces resignation.
+<span class="sc">Squire of Malwood</span> brings in Local Veto Bill.</p>
+
+<p><i>Tuesday.</i>&mdash;"Poof!" said <span class="sc">Sark</span>, mopping his
+brow; "glad that's over. No knowing where it
+might have ended. Danger of last scene in <span class="sc">Speaker's</span>
+leave-taking closing amid burst of irritated laughter.
+When I was first returned, we thought two leaders
+enough for one House. There was the Government
+man on the Treasury Bench, the Leader of Opposition
+on bench opposite. When ceremonial business
+to be done, these two spoke and the whole House
+agreed that its opinions had found expression.
+House rapidly growing into position akin to home
+forces of Prince of <span class="sc">Monaco</span>. Nearly as many captains
+as privates."</p>
+
+<p>These remarks wrung from troubled breast by
+long, at one anxious moment apparently interminable,
+procession of orators in support of resolution
+thanking retiring <span class="sc">Speaker</span> for services in Chair.
+<span class="sc">Squire of Malwood</span> said right thing in admirable
+way. <span class="sc">Prince Arthur</span>, less ornate in phrase, supplied
+a perfect second. These speeches voiced feeling of Ministerialists
+and Opposition. Some reasonableness in <span class="sc">Justin McCarthy's</span>
+interposition, he being leader of distinct party which, as he
+hinted, had in earlier days done battle with <span class="sc">Speaker</span>. But really,
+when it came to <span class="sc">Joseph</span> saying a few words for his
+merry men, and <span class="sc">John Redmond</span> tuning afresh the
+Irish harp on behalf of his, prospect grew alarming.
+If these leaders of sections within a division felt
+called upon to make speeches on such occasion, why
+not <span class="sc">John Burns</span> as a Labour Leader, with <span class="sc">Keir
+Hardie</span> to follow as captain of the Independent
+Labour Party; <span class="sc">Osborne Morgan</span>, purged of profligacy,
+speaking for Wales, followed by <span class="sc">Lloyd-George</span>
+from below the Gangway; <span class="sc">Wilfrid Lawson</span>
+for the Temperance party; Private <span class="sc">Hanbury</span>
+as representing the land forces of the Busy B's;
+Cap'en <span class="sc">Tommy Bowles</span> the naval; <span class="sc">Jacob Bright</span>
+returning thanks for the ladies, <span class="sc">Walter M'Laren</span>
+speaking specially for the section who desire to
+marry their deceased husband's brother? Domesticity
+thus trenched upon, Baron <span class="sc">de Worms</span>, with
+wistful "Long-Lost-Dear-Father" look on his face,
+might close the list by a few words spoken on behalf
+of the family circle.</p>
+
+<p>To-day stopped a little short of this; but shall
+doubtless go the whole way next time opportunity
+presents itself. <i>Business done.</i>&mdash;Thanks of House
+voted to <span class="sc">Speaker</span>.</p>
+
+<p><i>Wednesday.</i>&mdash;By contrast with ordered speech-making
+of yesterday afternoon scene that took place
+in earliest moments of the new day's birth prettier
+by far. For upwards of an hour Members passing
+out homewards stopped to shake the <span class="sc">Speaker's</span> hand
+and bid him farewell. Just before quarter of hour
+chimed after midnight, <span class="sc">Arthur Peel</span> spoke his last
+words in House of Commons.</p>
+
+<p>"The question is," he said, "that this House do
+now adjourn."</p>
+
+<p>As he turned to leave the Chair, Members present
+sprang to feet, cheering continuously till <span class="sc">Arthur
+Peel</span>, for the last time robed in Speaker's wig and
+gown, passed out of sight.</p>
+
+<div class="poem width21">  <div class="stanza">
+<p>For Lochaber no more, Lochaber no more.</p>
+<p>We'll maybe return to Lochaber no more.</p>
+  </div>  </div>
+
+<p><i>Le roi est mort. Vive le roi.</i> <span class="sc">William Court Gully</span> elected
+Speaker by majority of 11 in House of 559 Members.</p>
+
+<p><i>Business done.</i>&mdash;Elect new Speaker, and immediately give him ten
+days' holiday. Adjourn till Monday 22nd.</p>
+
+<hr class="medium" />
+
+<h3>A STUDY IN ETHNOLOGY.</h3>
+
+<div class="poem width21">  <div class="stanza">
+<p>Upon my luck I still reflect,</p>
+<p class="i2">That led us to the same Museum:</p>
+<p>I greeted you with staid respect,</p>
+<p class="i2">But my heart sang its own <i>Te Deum</i>,</p>
+<p>And blessed your Uncle, ere I wist,</p>
+<p>For being an ethnologist!</p>
+  </div><div class="stanza">
+<p>On old Assyrian spoils intent,</p>
+<p class="i2">Our very presence he forgot,</p>
+<p>While we o'er strings of wampum bent&mdash;</p>
+<p class="i2">We saw them and we saw them not.</p>
+<p>He lived within a past long dead,</p>
+<p>We, in the seconds as they sped.</p>
+  </div><div class="stanza">
+<p>Within a carven mirror old,</p>
+<p class="i2">Suddenly, as we wandered by,</p>
+<p>You looked upon your hair of gold</p>
+<p class="i2">And flushing face, and so did I.</p>
+<p>Then on we passed: a vault we found,</p>
+<p>And <span class="sc">Pharaoh's</span> coffin, underground.</p>
+  </div><div class="stanza">
+<p>Oh, if his phantom ever stood</p>
+<p class="i2">Beside the coffin made for him,</p>
+<p>And saw you in your joyous mood,</p>
+<p class="i2">With your bright eyes and figure slim,</p>
+<p>King <span class="sc">Pharaoh</span> might have envied us</p>
+<p>Beside his old sarcophagus!</p>
+  </div><div class="stanza">
+<p>But, <span class="sc">Pharaoh</span>, we, remembering</p>
+<p class="i2">The ancient creed that souls of men</p>
+<p>May see the summer and the spring,</p>
+<p class="i2">May live again, and love again,</p>
+<p>A moment wished the tale were true,</p>
+<p>Because&mdash;it seemed so hard on you!</p>
+  </div>  </div>
+
+<hr class="medium" />
+
+<p class="center"><span class="sc">Wanted in the World of "Art."</span>&mdash;A
+Spring Clean!</p>
+
+<hr class="medium" />
+
+<h3>TO A YOUNG ACTRESS.</h3>
+
+<div class="poem width24">  <div class="stanza">
+<div class="figright" style="width: 150px;"><a href="images/192b-320.png"><img src="images/192b-150.png" width="150" height="216" alt="To a young actress." /></a></div>
+<p>You regret that all you do</p>
+<p>Is to be a lady who</p>
+<p>Just walks on&mdash;a smile or two,</p>
+<p class="i6">Then you're gone;</p>
+<p>For you think that any gawk</p>
+<p>Would be good enough to walk,</p>
+<p>You undoubtedly should talk</p>
+<p class="i6">When you're "on."</p>
+  </div><div class="stanza">
+<p>You are but a sort of show.</p>
+<p>Silence for a girl is slow,</p>
+<p>Speech is woman's right, I know</p>
+<p class="i6">That is true,</p>
+<p>And although your pretty face</p>
+<p>Charms beholders by its grace,</p>
+<p>You would like a higher place,</p>
+<p class="i6">Wouldn't you?</p>
+  </div><div class="stanza">
+<p>But we cannot all have "leads,"</p>
+<p>Nicely suited to our needs,</p>
+<p>To excel in words and deeds,</p>
+<p class="i6">Don't you see?</p>
+<p>So, if you desire to speak,</p>
+<p>I am not so far to seek,</p>
+<p>I would listen for a week&mdash;</p>
+<p class="i6">Talk to me.</p>
+  </div>  </div>
+
+<hr class="medium" />
+
+<p class="ind"><span class="sc">Something Yet!</span>&mdash;"Mr. G." is a proficient
+in several languages. In Italian, as well as
+in Latin, in ancient and modern Greek, he
+can, we believe, converse fluently, when anyone
+gives him a chance. With Russian he
+may be acquainted, for, as this is "caviare to
+the general," it may be equally so to an ex-prime-minister.
+With Spanish Mr. G. is,
+probably, not on speaking terms, though, no
+doubt he is well up in the niceties of the language;
+and there are many spoken languages
+of which he possesses more than a smattering.
+But the accomplished scholar has yet something
+to learn from one <span class="sc">Richard Cumberland</span>,
+a bishop in the last century, not the playwright,
+of whom it is on record that, being a
+proficient in most ancient and modern languages,
+he "began to learn Coptic at the age
+of eighty-three!" Although Mr. G. has
+gone very far north, yet has he not at present
+got up to <span class="sc">Cumberland</span>.</p>
+
+<hr class="medium" />
+
+<p class="ind2"><span class="sc">A Suggestion.</span>&mdash;There are two excellent
+waters, Apollinaris and Johannis, known to
+everyone as "'Polly" and "Jo." Might
+not the two companies amalgamate, and
+reproduce the success of "<span class="sc">My 'Pol' and
+my Partner 'Jo.'</span>"</p>
+
+<hr class="medium" />
+
+<p class="center"><span class="sc">Latest Equivalent for "the East
+Wind," as Replenishment for Hungry
+Stomachs.</span>&mdash;The Royal Commission on the
+Aged Poor.</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+<pre>
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Punch, or the London Charivari, Vol.
+108, April 20, 1895, by Various
+
+*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PUNCH, CHARIVARI, APRIL 20, 1895 ***
+
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+</body>
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+
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@@ -0,0 +1,1545 @@
+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Punch, or the London Charivari, Vol. 108,
+April 20, 1895, by Various
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: Punch, or the London Charivari, Vol. 108, April 20, 1895
+
+Author: Various
+
+Editor: Sir Francis Burnand
+
+Release Date: January 19, 2014 [EBook #44707]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PUNCH, CHARIVARI, APRIL 20, 1895 ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Malcolm Farmer, Lesley Halamek and the Online
+Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.
+
+Volume 108, APRIL 20, 1895.
+
+_edited by Sir Francis Burnand_
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration: IMPROVING THE SHINING HOUR.
+
+_The New Governess._ "WHAT ARE THE COMPARATIVE AND SUPERLATIVE OF
+_BAD_, BERTY?"
+
+_Berty_ (_the Doctor's son_). "BAD--WORSE--DEAD!"]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+A CHINO-JAPANESE CALENDAR.
+
+(_For the next Ten Years._)
+
+1895. Treaty of peace signed between China and Japan, on the basis of
+the opening up of Chinese territory and introduction of machinery
+into the Celestial Empire. The Japanese prophesy that the compact will
+ultimately prove to be for the benefit of the Chinese.
+
+1896. Japan floods China with home-made merchants, who obtain an
+enormous trade.
+
+1897. England, America and France follow suit, and, after a pause, the
+remainder of the civilized world adopt the prevailing fashion.
+
+1898. Japanese China becomes over-populated, thanks to the foreign
+invasion, and there is much discontent amongst the original
+inhabitants.
+
+1899. The foreigners, having secured all the possible trade that could
+be obtained, commence the erection of manufactories.
+
+1900. Japanese China challenges Birmingham, Glasgow, Lyons, and
+Marseilles on their own ground, and holds its own. It claims to be one
+of the most productive places on the face of the universe.
+
+1901. The introduction of machinery having thrown the teeming millions
+of Japanese China out of work, there is great discontent amongst them.
+
+1902. An enterprising citizen of the United States of America
+projects an emigration scheme for supplying the outer world with the
+superfluous population of Japanese China.
+
+1903. The scheme of the citizen of the U. S. A. proves a great
+success, and sixty millions of Chino-Japanese are conveyed to the two
+worlds, the old and the new.
+
+1904. The original inhabitants of Europe and America, undersold by the
+Chino-Japanese, are ousted from their positions and left without work.
+Consequently, great prosperity of the Chino-Japanese.
+
+1905. Fulfilment of the prophecy, that the treaty of peace between
+China and Japan signed in 1895 was "really for the benefit of the
+Chinese."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+WON'T WASH!
+
+_Or, The British Laundress's Lament._
+
+    [There is talk of a company for taking our laundry-work over
+    to Holland, washing it there, and returning it to the owners
+    at a less cost than it can be done for at home.]
+
+  In matters of laundry the fault of them Dutch,
+  Is charging too little, and grabbing too much!
+  They'd collar our collars, cut off with our shirts!
+  The heart of a true washerwoman it hurts
+  To think of Frows taking _our_ time-honoured tub.
+  What, travel to Holland to get rub and scrub,
+  While soap and strong arms may in Britain be found?
+  It's worse than them Stores! Furrineers may be found
+  To do dirty work on the cheap, I've no doubt;
+  But can old JOHN BULL know just what he's about
+  In sending our work from his shores in _this_ way?
+  I'm sure it won't wash, and I 'ope it won't pay!
+  Shall we to Mynheer and his frowsy Frow truckle,
+  While one English woman has arm, wrist, and knuckle?
+  Forbid it, my sisters! My patriot 'eart
+  Is up in my mouth at this ojus new start.
+  There is an old proverb, and what do it say?
+  It is the true laundress's motter, I say.
+  But what in the world to JOHN BULL can 'ave come
+  If he can't _wash his own dirty linen at 'ome_?
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+A MISMANAGED ACCIDENT.
+
+Have just discovered that the pretty girl I met at the dance the other
+night is a lady nurse at Charing Cross Hospital. Such a nice girl!
+What a charming nurse she must be! Almost wish I was laid up at the
+hospital. In fact, quite wish it. But I can't be. Another outrage
+on the miserable, downtrodden, middle class. If I were one of the
+fortunate, pampered masses, a Working Man, I should be nursed by her,
+if I were ill, and by others, perhaps, like her. Stay! There is
+a chance. If I could be damaged in an accident--not too much
+damaged--and carried to the hospital, they must look after me, and
+nurse me. They couldn't help themselves. Northumberland Avenue--the
+very place! Never cross it without being nearly run over.
+
+Go straight there and look eagerly for the usual rushing hansoms.
+Here's one. Stroll in front of it. Driver pulls aside, shouts and
+swears at me, and goes on. Reflect that some caution is necessary. If
+the wheel went over my neck, even her ministrations would be useless.
+Must be run over judiciously. Better only be knocked down. Stroll
+across road again. Here comes one. Shouts from driver. A large splash
+of mud in my eye. And that's all. These cabmen drive so absurdly well.
+They pull up, or pull aside, or pull somewhere instantly. Wipe my eye,
+and then see something better. Old lady's brougham, from the suburbs,
+driven by the sort of coachman who also works in the garden. He won't
+be able to pull aside quickly. Stroll in front of horse. Shouts from
+gardening coachman. Horse nearly on me. Suddenly pulled back by fussy
+policeman, who says I had a narrow escape. Hang the fellow, of course
+I did! Am obliged to give him ten shillings for his prompt action.
+Begin to despair of this accident. Stroll on nearly to Embankment.
+Immense van coming along at a trot. Much too heavy. I should be
+smashed flat. And this driver seems to want to run over me. Escape
+with difficulty by jumping aside. At that moment something hits my
+legs, I am thrown down, and a wheel passes over my foot. It is a
+costermonger's donkey-cart which was racing the van. How ignominious!
+To be knocked down by a donkey and run over by a truck! Very painful
+too. Feel as if I should faint. Picked up by sympathetic people who
+rush to me. Say feebly to them, "Take me to the hospital." Then faint.
+
+After a short time open my eyes. Am being carried in somewhere. At
+last! I shall forget the pain. I am in the hospital. She will nurse
+me! _She_--oh, heavens! Though I have planned it all, suppose I ought
+to murmur, "Where am I?" Do so. "In St. Thomas's Hospital," says
+somebody.
+
+_A fortnight later._--And I am in it still.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+According to a paragraph last week in the _Westminster Gazette_,
+quoting from the _Australian Review of Reviews_, it appears that the
+Earl of YARMOUTH has been making a sensation in the Colonies as a
+"Skirt-dancer." Queer fish this nobleman! belongs to the Bloater
+Aristocracy.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+A NOBLE PLUNGER.--One day last week in the _Times_ appeared an article
+headed "_Lord Rayleigh on Waves_." Rather early for sea-bathing, eh?
+Evidently so, such prominence having been given to the fact by the
+leading journal.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration: "BETTER LATE THAN NEVER.
+
+_Mr. Punch_ (_welcoming Miss Spring-time_). 'GLAD TO SEE YOU, MY DEAR!
+BEGAN TO THINK YOU WERE NEVER COMING!"]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration: "ANIMAL SPIRITS."
+
+No. XI.--AFTER BANK HOLIDAY.]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"BETTER LATE THAN NEVER."
+
+_Mr. Punch to Miss Spring_:--
+
+  Well, here you are at last, dear! _Are_ the biting blizzards past, dear?
+    And _will_ you guarantee us from subjection to the plumber?
+  Will no casual icy splinter from the serried spears of Winter
+    Put a chill upon your smile, and spoil the promise of the Summer?
+  We've been waiting worn and weary, till e'en cuckoo-songs sound cheery,
+    And belated almond-blossoms show like roses of Cashmere:
+  And the cockney chaunt now flowing, "All-a-blowing _and_ a-growing!"
+    Falls far sweeter than MASCAGNI upon London's longing ear.
+  Where on earth have you been hiding? We are in no mood for chiding,
+    But mid-April's _rather_ late, dear, for what should have come in March!
+  What malignant hocus-pocus has kept back the plucky crocus,
+    Whose gold is scarce yet bursting from the beds the winds still parch?
+  After that six weeks cold snap, dear, of fast frozen pipe and tap, dear,
+    When back to barbarism and to bathlessness fate drove us,
+  And we sicklier grew, and surlier, if you'd come a _leetle_ earlier,--
+    Well, let bygones now be bygones! But O Spring sweet! an you love us,
+  Come--at last, dear--_a la_ HERRICK, with such influence atmospheric
+    As will slay the Influenza; with such fragrance from your flowers,
+  As will knock Malaria silly; let your dear daffydown-dilly
+    From our bodies drive bacilli, and the blight from out our bowers.
+  Slay our Microbes, Spring, and bless us! Like a clinging Shirt of Nessus
+    Morbid sickliness surrounds us in our lives, our books, our art.
+  Oh, if sunshine and your breezes might but slay our soul-diseases,
+    Oust the pestilent miasma that pervades the home, the mart;
+  Neutralise the nauseous virus whose developments so tire us;
+    Disinfect the New Parnassus, purge the New Pierian Spring,
+  Bring us honesty and health, dear, why for all our wit and wealth, dear,
+    We might love like Nature's lovers, and like Nature's poets sing.
+  Ah! we need Spring's prophylactic!--But I'm getting too didactic
+    For a sunny April morning, and a sweet young thing like you.
+  My dear, the London Season, wrapped and furred out of all reason,
+    Has been waiting, decked like Winter, with a nose-tip nearly blue;
+  Waiting, waiting for your coming. Sweet as bees in clover humming
+    Is the first sound of your footfall. Most spontaneous of passions
+  Is the love for you, you darling. You will bring the thrush and starling,
+    And the young leaves and the young lambs, and, what's better--
+      _the Spring Fashions_!!!
+  So no wonder that she greets you with effusion when she meets you.
+    Ah, Spring! 'tis not your lilacs, and your daffodils and stocks,
+  Or the tender leaves the trees on, that most moves Miss London Season,
+    'Tis the hope of "rippin'" frolics and the thought of "trotty" frocks.
+  But an old man's heart, my treasure, beats to quite another measure,
+    Still my sympathies, dear Spring, are with the youngsters and with you.
+  They are looking for love's playtime, and the merry, merry May-time,
+    And the popular R.A. time, and the whole tohu-bohu!
+  Bring the girls delights as dowry, may their social paths be flowery,
+    And your silver drops the only tears they need to look upon.
+  So they're wholesome, may they flourish; and may all Spring influence nourish
+    True manhood and pure womanhood, and--there, my preaching's done!
+  We need a true _Spring Clean_, sweet. Give us parks and gardens green, sweet.
+    And laughter, like your bird-songs pure, un-satyr-like, though clever,
+  Bless our boys, our girls, our babies, yes--_and bring us back our JABEZ_,
+    And we'll pardon your delay, and say 'tis better late than never!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+OPPORTUNITY LOST BY MR. JUSTICE HAWKINS DURING A RECENT CASE WHEN
+HIS LORDSHIP MIGHT HAVE PUT IT TO THE JURY.--"Gentlemen, what is the
+difference, or, as there has been no quarrel, let us say what is the
+distinction between a costumier and a butcher anxious to arrange his
+shop-front to the best advantage? Gentlemen, I will not detain you,
+it is this: The costumier meets out the dresses; the butcher 'dresses
+out' the meats. Gentlemen, you are discharged."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+TO CHARITABLE CHESS-PLAYERS.--A good move at Easter time is--"cheque
+to his Bishop."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+BLIND ALLEY-GORIES.
+
+BY DUNNO WAeHRIAR.
+
+(_Translated from the original Lappish by Mr. Punch's own Hyperborean
+Enthusiast._)
+
+INTRODUCTORY NOTE.
+
+IT affords me no ordinary gratification to be the humble instrument in
+rendering these exquisitely obscure prose-poems--reeking as they
+are with the self-consciousness of so magnificently triumphant
+an Ego--into the English tongue, though I am fully aware of the
+difficulty of preserving all the mystical unintelligibility of the
+original.
+
+DUNNO WAeHRIAR is perhaps the most remarkable personality that his
+native Lapland has yet produced. He first saw the light on April 1,
+1879, at Kandalax, so that he may still be called comparatively young.
+His impressionable, sensitive soul broke out in early revolt against
+the train-oil and tallow which formed the traditionary nutriment of
+his family circle, and in 1883 we find him casting off the shackles
+of conventionality and escaping to Sweden in his sledge-perambulator.
+There he has lived ever since, and has already secured a foremost
+place among the greatest physiological psychologists of Scandinavia.
+As a morbid pathologist, he surpasses STRINDBERG; while in neurotic
+sensitivism, he has hustled HANSSON into a back seat; easily
+beaten BJOeRNSON in diagnosis of the elusive emotions; and taken the
+indigestible cake of slack-baked symbolism from the master hand
+of IBSEN himself! Small wonder, then, that the commonest penwiper
+containing issues from his pen is eagerly sought after by admirers of
+such effusions.
+
+He belongs ('tis true) to the Literary Upper Crust, and is for the few
+rather than the many; while so absolute has been his fidelity to the
+principles of his art, that he has published every one of his works at
+a considerable pecuniary loss.
+
+Need I say more to ensure for him that respectful admiration which the
+public is ever ready to lavish upon anything they fail to understand?
+
+Let me rather efface myself and leave DUNNO WAeHRIAR--or "Young
+GARNAWAY," as is his self-adopted pseudonym--to unfold the rhythmic
+charm of his own inimitable incomprehensibility.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+BLIND ALLEY-GORY THE FIRST.
+
+THE LOST BACKBONE.
+
+One summer evening, when the moon was at the full, and cloud-shadows
+glided imperceptibly over the chimney-pots, as curses that have found
+no utterance and come dejectedly home to roost, I wandered into my
+back-garden, and caught the God of the Period napping in the moonshine
+on one of my celery-beds.
+
+He rose up suddenly and reposed awhile in space, with his head resting
+on the back of the Great Bear, and one foot on the arm of Cassiopeia's
+Chair, while with the other he skimmed the cream off the Milky Way.
+And he seemed to be everywhere and yet nowhere in particular, and
+he said nothing, and I was afraid to make a remark--and there was no
+sound, save that of the boundless, inconceivable silence which was
+rumbling round the corner.
+
+Presently he came down to the celery-bed once more.
+
+"What are you seeking for so late?" asked he; "your face looks so long
+and solemn, and your eyes are hollow and full of woe. Have you been
+having anything indigestible for supper?"
+
+"I am in trouble about Humanity," I replied; "for, though I loathe and
+despise them individually, collectively I love them dearly."
+
+"What's the matter with Humanity?" asked the God, as he squatted amid
+the celery.
+
+"They are growing so deadly dull," I answered. "I am Young GARNAWAY,
+the Pessimistic Prose Poet, and it pains me to see how utterly they
+have lost their perception of the ridiculous, which is the backbone of
+real enjoyment. So I came out to see if by any chance the backbone was
+hidden under one of the flower-pots."
+
+The Period-God once more pervaded the endless space that glittered in
+darkling infinitude round about and right ahead of him. It seemed to
+me, when he returned, that he had been laughing; but suddenly I saw
+him pull himself together, and frown.
+
+And from afar a gurgling rose through the gloom, and darkness fell
+upon my back-garden, knocking a basilisk off the waterbutt, and above
+the garden-walls there appeared a crowd of rude persons, in pot hats,
+with red lolling tongues and wide grinning mouths, holding their sides
+with inextinguishable mirth. All at once the giggles turned into the
+booing of Philistines, and there was a fantastic shadowy horseplay,
+which rolled nearer and nearer.
+
+I saw many myriads of spectral kitten forms, and unsubstantial egg
+shapes rushing towards me through the air. Instinctively I ran indoors
+and gripped the umbrella from its corner, and stood on guard.
+
+[Illustration: "I saw many myriads of spectral kitten forms and
+unsubstantial egg-shapes."]
+
+Then I heard someone chuckling quite close to me, chuckling softly,
+but unmistakably. And the booing hushed, and the gloom lightened, and
+the garden-roller glimmered faintly in the moonlit summer night,
+and inside the lawn-mower lay the God of the Period crying with
+uncontrollable laughter.
+
+"When the time comes," he said, "when mankind gets weary of Paraded
+Pessimism, and the Big Scandinavian Boom has burst, then I will
+conjure forth the Great Guffaw; and _then_ it will be time for all
+Dyspeptic Decadents to get under their umbrellas--just as you did
+awhile ago, for mankind will have recovered its sense of humour, and
+will decline to take them seriously. But you had much better leave off
+bothering your head about that lost backbone, for you won't be happy
+when they get it!"
+
+And while I was taking off my goloshes indoors, I heard again the
+sound of snapping celery sticks, as the Period-God rolled on the bed
+in ecstasies of stifled merriment, and I wondered at intervals what it
+was all about.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+FOR OUTWARD APPLICATION.--"'A man may change his skies,' as the Roman
+poet puts it," quoth the _Daily Telegraph_, "but he does not so easily
+change his habits." The Academy is about to open. The pictures will
+soon be hung. Varnishing day comes, with last chance for alteration.
+Then comes in Latin poetic proverb, "A man may change his skies, but,
+do what he will, he cannot alter that peculiar style that marks the
+work as his, and nobody else's."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+NEW PROVERB.--All "problem" and no "play" makes drama a dull joy.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration: SHOCKING HEATHENISM.
+
+_Rector._ "SO YOU GO UP TO TOWN NEXT MONTH, MISS MARY. HOW I ENVY YOU!
+AND OF COURSE YOU'LL ATTEND THE MAY MEETINGS."
+
+_Miss Mary._ "MAY MEETINGS? OH DEAR NO! THOUGH I ADORE HORSES, I QUITE
+DISAPPROVE OF _RACING_, DON'T YOU KNOW!"]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+OUR BOOKING-OFFICE.
+
+The Baron heartily welcomes the appearance of _Happy Thoughts_ in
+French, under the very attractive style and title of _Fridoline_. No
+fear now of the _entente cordiale_ between England and France being
+disturbed; and that is indeed _une "pensee" la plus "heureuse" ou
+"ingenieuse."_ The dialogue with the patient angler who remains in the
+middle of the stream day after day, and, probably, night after night,
+is quite a little lesson in French.
+
+[Illustration: "Fridoline."]
+
+"_'Pris quelque chose?' 'Rien.' 'Pas mordu du tout?' 'Une fois, je
+crois.' Le pecheur n'a pas perdu son calme, mais son air n'a rien de
+triomphant._"
+
+And the world goes on and the _mouvement_ continues, and ever and anon
+the Happy Thoughter, returning to the river, finds the same man in the
+same boat in almost the same position. Then, before retiring for the
+night, the H. T. takes one turn on the lawn, "_pour m'assurer_," he
+says, "_que je ne laisse rien derriere moi. Ah si! je laisse l'homme
+au bachot, toujours sa ligne en main. Il avait, parait-il, un pen
+redescendu le courant. 'Bonne peche?' 'Non.' 'Pris quelque chose?'
+'Rien.'_" Those who read "_entre les lignes_" may see in this figure
+of unrewarded patience and perseverance more than meets the eye.
+M. AURELIEN DE COURSON has done his work excellently well, "_avec
+l'autorisation de l'auteur_."
+
+I found a book on my table lying among a number of others put aside to
+be read at "a more convenient season." The title attracted me--_Clove
+Pink_. Its leaves are of last autumn, but the story they tell is for
+ever. It is admirably written; its word-painting is the work of a
+true artist: but beginning brightly and gladly, as do the lives of
+the young hero and heroine, it ends sadly but sweetly. If you are not
+averse to a simple, well-told tale, with stirring incidents of modern
+warfare, graphically narrated, that stand out in startling contrast
+to the scenes of quiet English rural life, a story whose pathos and
+simple truth will touch you deeply, read _Clove Pink_, says
+
+  THE BARON DE BOOK-WORMS.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+VERY CATCHING.
+
+In the _Times_ of Monday, April 8, appeared an advertisement headed
+"Lent, Lent--Fish, Fish." This meant, of course, that the season was
+Lent, not that the fishmonger was a lender of fish. And for the season
+it was Holy Week, _i.e._ last week of Lent. Then it goes on "_Have you
+ordered your Good Friday's Dinner?_ If not, do so at once." Excellent
+and most timely advice, seeing it was given on the Monday preceding
+Good Friday. So far so good; but then comes "a reason why" which
+apparently quite upsets the kettle of fish. Here is the extract:--
+
+    "Having made contracts with a number of the leading trawl and
+    line fishermen to take the whole of their prime fish caught
+    during Easter week," &c., &c.
+
+[Illustration:
+  "To-morrow will be Fry day,
+  So we'll catch our fish to-day."
+
+             _Somebody's Song._
+]
+
+What on earth is the good of fish caught in Easter Week to the persons
+who have ordered it for the previous Friday? That's where the trouble
+is. The fishmonger is at sea as well as his good fishermen. If the
+advertisement had been headed "Lent and Easter," then it would have
+been evident that two different subjects were being dealt with, and
+"both caught with one fish," as Mrs. R. might say, adapting a proverb.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+TEMPERATE TO INTEMPERATE.
+
+  Fanatic sophistries, I think,
+    To logic's limits will have shrunk,
+  When zealot's recognize that "drink"
+    Is _not_ identical with "drunk."
+  Difference may be as great you see,
+    'Twixt U and I as You and Me!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+WORDSWORTH FOR WITLERS.--"Drink, pretty creature, drink!"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration: SOCIAL AGONIES.
+
+_Anxious Musician_ (_in a whisper, to Mrs. Lyon Hunter's butler_).
+"WHERE'S MY 'CELLO?"
+
+_Butler_ (_in stentorian tones, to the room_). "SIGNOR WERESMICELLO!"]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+THE NEW ENGLISH ART CLUB.
+
+The other day I went to this exhibition of sublime masterpieces. I was
+about to write a few comments, full of strange epithets and gushing
+praise, when a small girl came in with a lady. The child spoke so
+freely that I paused to listen. This was her criticism. "Oh, mother,
+what's that meant for? I can't see anything. Look at that lady! She's
+got no face at all. Oh, look at that other! She's funnier. What is
+she? A Spanish dancer? Do all Spanish dancers have knobbly faces like
+you might make out of a potato? What are those people skating on? Is
+it cotton wool? Oh, mother, look there! What an ugly lady! Why's she
+put all that red on her cheeks? What's all that other red there? Is it
+another lady? A church in Venice? What Olympia where you took me two
+years ago? Oh, mother, it can't be a church! Unless it's upside down.
+Or perhaps all the paints have run into one another like mine do. Oh,
+look! There's a picture of a washstand. Is it an advertisement of a
+furniture shop? Or is it meant for what father calls a slight wash
+in his water-colour drawings? What are those ladies dancing in sheets
+for? Is it sheets they've got on? Oh what a red face that gentleman's
+got! I don't think they paint very pretty ladies or gentlemen here.
+Oh, mother, look at that! Why it's the funniest of all! Who are the
+two ladies? Why are their clothes slipping down? Why are their faces
+all crooked, and their eyes sideways? Are they meant to be pretty? I
+don't think they are. What do you say it is? Meant to be painted on
+the wall of a room? Is that why they look so funny? Why they look like
+Aunt KITTY, when she's going to have a sea bath, and when----" Here
+the little maiden was suddenly dragged out of the room, and her shrill
+voice was heard no more. But her winged words are not forgotten by
+
+  A CRUSHED CRITIC.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+AN EASTER 'OLIDAY.
+
+    (_A Siesta Song, from the Burlesque Opera "Little Liberal
+    Majority," performed at the Theatre Royal, St. Stephen's._)
+
+  AIR--"_Lazily, Drowsily._"
+
+  When gaily dances the Easter sun,
+    And shelved is each bothersome Bill,
+  Then work and talk for a time are done,
+    And the lobbies are hushed and still.
+            Lazily, lazily,
+            Drowsily, drowsily,
+          Home goes every one;
+            Lazily, lazily,
+            Drowsily, drowsily,
+          Under the April sun.
+          Old St. Stephen's closes;
+          Parliament reposes,
+            Lazily, lazily,
+            Drowsily, drowsily,
+          Forty winks, or fun!
+
+  When the sunlight falls on the Heath's green breast,
+    And blue are the skies above,
+  Each seeks the rest that he loves the best,
+    Or the sport he doth chiefly love.
+  Lazily, lazily, drowsily, drowsily,
+    Donkey riding's fun!
+  Lazily, lazily, drowsily, drowsily,
+    Dawdling under the sun!
+    HARCOURT'S eyelid closes,
+    BALFOUR blandly dozes;
+  Lazily, lazily, drowsily, drowsily,
+    Under the Easter sun!
+
+  Joggle and jolt! _These_ mokes won't bolt!
+    Each flops like an empty sack
+  On the broad back, shaggy as Shetland colt.
+    No donkey boy on _their_ track!
+  Lazily, lazily, drowsily, drowsily,
+    Carelessly jogging on!
+  Lazily, lazily, drowsily, drowsily,
+    Under an Easter sun!
+    Lotos-Land discloses
+    No more bland reposes.
+  Lazily, lazily, drowsily, drowsily,
+    Dawdle they under the sun!
+
+  "That LABBY was often a bore!" sighs WILL,
+    Groans ARTY, "And so was JOE!
+  To drive _these_ donkeys demands small skill!
+    Would Westminster mokes were so!
+  Lazily, lazily, drowsily, drowsily!
+    Riding like this is fun!
+  Lazily, lazily, drowsily, drowsily!
+    Bless us! Who _wants_ to run?
+    'Appy 'Ampstead dozes!
+    Mokes are beds of roses!
+  Lazily, lazily, drowsily, drowsily,
+    Jog we--till holiday's done!"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"THE OBJECTION TO EUCLID" of which we have heard so much recently is
+of very ancient standing, and is shared by nearly every schoolboy.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+PARLIAMENTARY PROVERB.--There's many a slip 'twixt the M.P. and the
+"Whip"!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration: AN EASTER 'OLIDAY.
+
+_Duet_ ('ARCOURT _and_ HARTHUR _sing while being jolted_).
+
+"LA-A-ZI-LY LA-A-ZI-LY! DROW-OW-OW-SILY! DROW-OW-OW-SILY!" &c.]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+MR. PUNCH AT A PICTURE SHOW.
+
+    (_The Collection of Sir John Tenniel's Drawings at the Fine
+    Art Society's Gallery._)
+
+  AIR.--"_My Old Friend John._"
+
+  'Tis forty years, my dear Sir JOHN,
+    Since you and I first met.
+  Lord, how the fleeting hours have flown!
+    But we foregather yet,
+  I gaze on this brave show with pride--
+    Fine art, still in full feather!
+  By Jove, it seems but yesterday
+    Since we were "boys" together.
+
+  Since we were boys, merry, merry boys,
+    At our old Board together!
+
+  There's gladness in remembrance, JOHN;
+    Your pencil-strokes struck true;
+  Through all the shifts of party life,
+    No pause that pencil knew.
+  We've missed old comrades one by one;
+    Our friendship moults no feather;
+  _Can_ forty years and more have run
+    Since we were "boys" together?
+
+  Since we were boys, merry, merry boys,
+    At our old Board together!
+
+  I gaze and proudly ponder, JOHN;
+    I've seen them all before--
+  GLADSTONE, BRIGHT, DIZZY, BULL!--Well done!!!
+    Fresh as in days of yore
+  The Big Cuts gleam. By sea and stream,
+    Moor, mountain, ice-field, heather.
+  Force, grace, fair fun mark all you've done,
+    Since we were "boys" together.
+
+  _Chorus all "Round the Mahogany Tree."_
+
+  Since we were boys, merry, merry boys!
+    So meet we, in full feather,
+  For many sunny years, Sir JOHN,
+    Still boys--at heart--together!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration: FANCY PORTRAIT.
+
+SIR G-RGE L-W-S.
+
+  "BOLD OF YOUR WORTHINESS, WE SINGLE YOU
+  AS OUR BEST-MOVING FAIR SOLICITOR."
+
+  _Love's Labour's Lost_, Act II., Sc. 1.
+]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+THE LAY OF THE LITTLE MINORITY.
+
+AIR--"_Little Buttercup._"
+
+  I'm bumptious Minority--cocky Minority
+    (Though I can hardly tell why),
+  My work is to worry poor weary Majority,
+    Giving him one in the eye.
+
+  On Board or on Council I swagger and bounce 'll,
+    And badger 'em out of their lives.
+  I claim all the graces, and all the best places;
+    Thus cocky Minority thrives!
+
+  Majorities little of claim have no tittle
+    To getting _their_ own wicked way;
+  But cocky Minority has such authority,
+    _His_ should be absolute sway.
+
+  If things are at evens at--well, say St. Stephen's,
+    Spring Gardens, wherever you like,
+  Tis a mere deadlock (like New Woman wedlock),
+    And against Progress we strike.
+
+  If a Majority (small) claims authority
+    To make the tiniest move,
+  Then to prevent it, obstruct, circumvent it,
+    Must be my labour of love.
+
+  But a Minority's superiority
+    Is just as clear as the day.
+  Majorities (small) have one duty, that's all,
+    'Tis--_to let the Minority sway!_
+
+  Then yield to Minority--cocky Minority,
+    On Boards or of Council or School!
+  Hooray for Minority--bumptious Minority!
+    Come--let Minority rule!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+OUR NEXT LITTLE BATTLE.
+
+(_From our Prophetic Reporter, a trifle in advance._)
+
+NOWHAR, _April 1_.--Wett River crossed yesterday in most brilliant
+style. Dashaway Regiment carried landing at point of bayonet, the
+Muffs keeping up well-directed fire during the entire operation.
+However, they seemed to feel effect of our artillery and Maxims.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+When landing effected, Sapping Miners constructed iron bridge
+(with glass covering to protect the troops from the rain) within
+five-and-twenty minutes. During the construction Muffs fired
+continuously at working parties. Flag-staffs riddled with shot,
+consequently colours could not be run up. A round from couple of
+quick-firing guns cleared heights of human obstructions.
+
+On completion of bridge, two troops of 147th Irregular Prancers
+charged enemy with much dash. As gallant horsemen approached Muffs
+(numbering about twenty thousand) concentrated their fire. For few
+minutes Irregulars had to pass through perfect fog of bullets. This
+ordeal did not damp their courage; soon came to close quarters with
+foe. In a moment Muffs were in confusion, flying, before pursuing
+sabres. Irregulars followed retreating enemy for many miles with
+complete success.
+
+While these operations being carried out 17th Battalion of
+Cutandthrust Regiment made assault on fortress protecting right flank
+of Muffs. Enemy opposed charge with well-sustained artillery fire,
+which had it been more judiciously directed might have caused
+considerable annoyance. As it was, many Cutandthrusts lowered their
+heads to allow of undisturbed passage of shrapnell. On reaching
+walls redcoats hopped over like birds. Garrison stubbornly defended
+position. Cutandthrusts extended, advancing in their new formation.
+With wild cheer they again charged. Although this advance caused
+Muffs to fall back, they still retained their ground. At this moment
+machine-guns of battalion were brought into play with best results. A
+couple of rounds immediately broke up enemy's columns and put them
+to flight. Muffs were then routed by 53rd Regiment of Indian Tiger
+Eaters.
+
+By midday position secured. At invitation of bugles exploring party
+"ceased firing," and prepared for mess.
+
+_Later._--I have just received a return of killed and wounded on both
+sides, which I here give:--_Muffs._--Killed, about 20,000; wounded,
+twice as many more. _British._--Killed, none; wounded, No. 35,604,821
+Private SMITH (Cutandthrust Regiment), slight scratch on fourth finger
+of left hand.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+NEW NAME FOR IT (_by Brother Bung_).--Local Hop-shun!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+ALL THE DIFFERENCE.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+  If half the things that CHLOE says to me,
+  If half the pretty kindnesses she shows,
+    By PHYLLIDA were shown or said,
+  Without a tremor I would stake my head
+    That I securely might propose
+      That she my bride would be.
+
+  Yet why? I know full well that CHLOE means
+  Nothing at all. 'Tis but her buoyant way,
+    Her frank "The best of friends, that's all."
+  And yet the stricter GRUNDY 'twould appal
+    To hear the tender things we say
+      Between our quarrel-scenes.
+
+  If one full-leaping pulse's beat
+    Beyond the coldest courtesy's demand
+    I trespass on sweet PHYLLIDA'S coy hand,
+  The thrill is shivered by her quick retreat,
+  Her fingers stiffen like a fossil fin,
+  And I again, a SISYPHUS, begin
+  The task of charming her reserve austere,
+    Palsied by Love's false fear,
+  Which drives the lover's chances down to zero.
+  While some cadaverous and long-chinn'd hero
+  Talks from a height rais'd by his own conceit,
+  And my white goddess listens at his feet.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration: PREHISTORIC PEEPS.
+
+THERE WERE SEASONS (CORRESPONDING TO OUR EASTER, &C.) WHEN THE
+INHABITANTS OF ONE ACCORD GAVE THEMSELVES UP TO RELAXATION AND
+AMUSEMENT!]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+LINES IN PLEASANT PLACES.
+
+THE LAND OF DREAMS.
+
+  There's a wondrous fairy kingdom
+    Whither all may take a trip--
+  Quite an inexpensive journey,
+    It is not by rail or ship--
+  For it lies just where you fancy,
+    And a pleasant thing it seems
+  For a man to sojourn sometimes
+    In the land of dreams.
+
+  'Tis the land where man attaineth
+    To the end of his desire,
+  Where the minor poet warbles
+    And the laurel crowns his lyre:
+  It is there the sucking statesman
+    Works out Machiavellian schemes,
+  And young BRIEFLESS is a leader
+    In the land of dreams.
+
+  'Tis the land of fur and feather,
+    'Tis the paradise of sport,
+  Where the runs beat all recounted
+    O'er the walnuts and the port:
+  It is there the pheasant rockets,
+    It is there the covert teems,
+  And your powder's always straightest
+    In the land of dreams.
+
+  There with ease the patient golfer
+    Plays a record medal-round,
+  And the batsman get his hundred,
+    Hitting clean all round the ground;
+  There old IZAAK'S keen disciple
+    Thrashes quite ideal streams,
+  For he angles most "compleatly"
+    In the land of dreams.
+
+  'Tis a land where someone meets you
+    You may never meet elsewhere,
+  'Tis a land where words are whispered
+    You may whisper only there;
+  'Tis the home of youth and sunshine
+    Where you taste of joy's extremes,
+  For, of course, there's someone loves you
+    In the land of dreams.
+
+  'Tis a land of peace and quiet,
+    Free from yelling paper-boys,
+  And from Germany's musicians,
+    And offensive kinds of noise:
+  There the organ-grinder grinds not,
+    There no restive infant screams.
+  Oh, to spend one's whole existence
+    In the land of dreams!
+
+  'Tis a land where rates and taxes
+    Never need be brooded on,
+  And the cupboard is unfurnished
+    With the homely skeleton:
+  There the roses all are thornless,
+    Life is destitute of seams,
+  And, in short, its worth the living
+    In the land of dreams.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+TO A PRETTY GIRL.
+
+(_Who accepted some verses._)
+
+  You take my lines, and say that you
+    Appreciate my humble verses.
+  That's more than editors will do,
+    Or publishers, with bloated purses.
+  To gain your thanks in such a way,
+  I'd write you verses night and day.
+
+  _You_ don't return them, saying you
+    Regret you cannot now accept them.
+  Or, scrawled with marks in blatant blue,
+    To show that, ruined, you have kept them.
+  If you would pay me with a smile,
+  I'd write you verses by the mile.
+
+  If you could only say that you
+    Would like me for my admiration,
+  To sing your charms till all was blue
+    Would be delightful occupation.
+  If I could hope to win a kiss,
+  I'd write you fifty miles like this.
+
+[Illustration.]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration: _First Boy._ "GIVE US A BITE OF YOUR APPLE, BOB."
+
+_Second Boy._ "SHAN'T."
+
+_First Boy._ "WHAT FOR?"
+
+_Second Boy._ "'COS YER AXED ME!"
+
+(_After a pause._)
+
+_Small Boy._ "GI' ME A BITE, BOB. I NEVER AXED YER!"]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+ESSENCE OF PARLIAMENT.
+
+EXTRACTED FROM THE DIARY OF TOBY, M.P.
+
+_House of Commons, Monday Night, April 8._--House to-night presented
+that appearance seen only on big occasions. Long unfamiliar in slough
+of despond in which present House been steeped since Session opened.
+Every seat on either side occupied. Members sitting on Gangway steps,
+flooding the side galleries, blocking the Bar, peopling even the steps
+of the Chair. ARTHUR PEEL is leaving historic stage graced through
+eleven years in fashion that has added fresh fame to an illustrious
+name. On ordinary occasions when SPEAKER rises to address House on
+current topics of business, Members who chance to have their hats on
+keep them there. Now, when the stately figure is discovered standing
+under the canopy of the Chair, Members without concert, but with one
+accord, bare their heads. Throughout a moving scene, which
+crammed much into fifteen minutes, nothing more striking than this
+simultaneous, swift uncovering of the head, and the transformation
+that followed when the rare sunlight, streaming in from western
+windows, fell upon five hundred unshaded faces all turned towards the
+tall, gowned figure standing by the Chair.
+
+The speech will be read to-morrow by millions, who will find it word
+for word and sentence by sentence in the newspapers. But the reader
+will gain but faint idea of the impression the delivery produced. The
+historic place, the animated scene, the electric current of such a
+gathering, were much. The effect was perfected by the elocution of
+the SPEAKER, perhaps the most perfect development of an attractive but
+dangerous art possessed by living man.
+
+What possibilities underlie its possession were wonderingly recognised
+in the last days of the late Parliament, when the directors of the
+Cambrian Railway Company were brought to the Bar of the House in
+connection with the dismissal of a station-master who had given
+unwelcome evidence before a Select Committee. House in the ludicrous
+pickle which invariably follows on Privilege proceedings. Directors
+summoned to attend were somewhere in the lobby. If it had
+been permissible to follow _Dogberry's_ example in similar
+circumstances--to take no note of directors, but let them go and
+presently call the rest of the watch together, and thank God they
+were rid of the knaves--it would have been well. But, directors
+being solemnly summoned, must needs be adequately dealt with. Finally
+resolved that SPEAKER should admonish them. Amid much giggling on part
+of hysterically uneasy House, conscious of its own ludicrous position,
+directors brought in and ranged at Bar. Then SPEAKER stood up and
+"most seriously admonished" them.
+
+No one present will forget the awesome mien, the terrible voice, with
+which the task was performed. At a touch farce was transformed into
+tragedy. Dignity of House, sorely imperilled, triumphantly vindicated.
+To-night the SPEAKER'S phrasing was perfect. Its setting in the
+delivery is untranslateable in speech or written word.
+
+_Business done._--Speaker announces resignation. SQUIRE OF MALWOOD
+brings in Local Veto Bill.
+
+_Tuesday._--"Poof!" said SARK, mopping his brow; "glad that's over. No
+knowing where it might have ended. Danger of last scene in SPEAKER'S
+leave-taking closing amid burst of irritated laughter. When I was
+first returned, we thought two leaders enough for one House. There was
+the Government man on the Treasury Bench, the Leader of Opposition on
+bench opposite. When ceremonial business to be done, these two spoke
+and the whole House agreed that its opinions had found expression.
+House rapidly growing into position akin to home forces of Prince of
+MONACO. Nearly as many captains as privates."
+
+These remarks wrung from troubled breast by long, at one anxious
+moment apparently interminable, procession of orators in support of
+resolution thanking retiring SPEAKER for services in Chair. SQUIRE OF
+MALWOOD said right thing in admirable way. PRINCE ARTHUR, less ornate
+in phrase, supplied a perfect second. These speeches voiced feeling
+of Ministerialists and Opposition. Some reasonableness in JUSTIN
+MCCARTHY'S interposition, he being leader of distinct party which, as
+he hinted, had in earlier days done battle with SPEAKER. But really,
+when it came to JOSEPH saying a few words for his merry men, and JOHN
+REDMOND tuning afresh the Irish harp on behalf of his, prospect grew
+alarming. If these leaders of sections within a division felt called
+upon to make speeches on such occasion, why not JOHN BURNS as a Labour
+Leader, with KEIR HARDIE to follow as captain of the Independent
+Labour Party; OSBORNE MORGAN, purged of profligacy, speaking for
+Wales, followed by LLOYD-GEORGE from below the Gangway; WILFRID LAWSON
+for the Temperance party; Private HANBURY as representing the land
+forces of the Busy B's; Cap'en TOMMY BOWLES the naval; JACOB BRIGHT
+returning thanks for the ladies, WALTER M'LAREN speaking specially
+for the section who desire to marry their deceased husband's
+brother? Domesticity thus trenched upon, Baron DE WORMS, with wistful
+"Long-Lost-Dear-Father" look on his face, might close the list by a
+few words spoken on behalf of the family circle.
+
+To-day stopped a little short of this; but shall doubtless go
+the whole way next time opportunity presents itself. _Business
+done._--Thanks of House voted to SPEAKER.
+
+_Wednesday._--By contrast with ordered speech-making of yesterday
+afternoon scene that took place in earliest moments of the new day's
+birth prettier by far. For upwards of an hour Members passing out
+homewards stopped to shake the SPEAKER'S hand and bid him farewell.
+Just before quarter of hour chimed after midnight, ARTHUR PEEL spoke
+his last words in House of Commons.
+
+"The question is," he said, "that this House do now adjourn."
+
+As he turned to leave the Chair, Members present sprang to feet,
+cheering continuously till ARTHUR PEEL, for the last time robed in
+Speaker's wig and gown, passed out of sight.
+
+  For Lochaber no more, Lochaber no more.
+  We'll maybe return to Lochaber no more.
+
+_Le roi est mort. Vive le roi._ WILLIAM COURT GULLY elected Speaker by
+majority of 11 in House of 559 Members.
+
+[Illustration: Farewell to Mr. Speaker Peel.]
+
+_Business done._--Elect new Speaker, and immediately give him ten
+days' holiday. Adjourn till Monday 22nd.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+A STUDY IN ETHNOLOGY.
+
+  Upon my luck I still reflect,
+    That led us to the same Museum:
+  I greeted you with staid respect,
+    But my heart sang its own _Te Deum_,
+  And blessed your Uncle, ere I wist,
+  For being an ethnologist!
+
+  On old Assyrian spoils intent,
+    Our very presence he forgot,
+  While we o'er strings of wampum bent--
+    We saw them and we saw them not.
+  He lived within a past long dead,
+  We, in the seconds as they sped.
+
+  Within a carven mirror old,
+    Suddenly, as we wandered by,
+  You looked upon your hair of gold
+    And flushing face, and so did I.
+  Then on we passed: a vault we found,
+  And PHARAOH'S coffin, underground.
+
+  Oh, if his phantom ever stood
+    Beside the coffin made for him,
+  And saw you in your joyous mood,
+    With your bright eyes and figure slim,
+  King PHARAOH might have envied us
+  Beside his old sarcophagus!
+
+  But, PHARAOH, we, remembering
+    The ancient creed that souls of men
+  May see the summer and the spring,
+    May live again, and love again,
+  A moment wished the tale were true,
+  Because--it seemed so hard on you!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+WANTED IN THE WORLD OF "ART."--A Spring Clean!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+TO A YOUNG ACTRESS.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+  You regret that all you do
+  Is to be a lady who
+  Just walks on--a smile or two,
+        Then you're gone;
+  For you think that any gawk
+  Would be good enough to walk,
+  You undoubtedly should talk
+        When you're "on."
+
+  You are but a sort of show.
+  Silence for a girl is slow,
+  Speech is woman's right, I know
+        That is true,
+  And although your pretty face
+  Charms beholders by its grace,
+  You would like a higher place,
+        Wouldn't you?
+
+  But we cannot all have "leads,"
+  Nicely suited to our needs,
+  To excel in words and deeds,
+        Don't you see?
+  So, if you desire to speak,
+  I am not so far to seek,
+  I would listen for a week--
+        Talk to me.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+SOMETHING YET!--"Mr. G." is a proficient in several languages. In
+Italian, as well as in Latin, in ancient and modern Greek, he can,
+we believe, converse fluently, when anyone gives him a chance.
+With Russian he may be acquainted, for, as this is "caviare to the
+general," it may be equally so to an ex-prime-minister. With Spanish
+Mr. G. is, probably, not on speaking terms, though, no doubt he is
+well up in the niceties of the language; and there are many spoken
+languages of which he possesses more than a smattering. But the
+accomplished scholar has yet something to learn from one RICHARD
+CUMBERLAND, a bishop in the last century, not the playwright, of whom
+it is on record that, being a proficient in most ancient and modern
+languages, he "began to learn Coptic at the age of eighty-three!"
+Although Mr. G. has gone very far north, yet has he not at present got
+up to CUMBERLAND.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+A SUGGESTION.--There are two excellent waters, Apollinaris and
+Johannis, known to everyone as "'Polly" and "Jo." Might not the two
+companies amalgamate, and reproduce the success of "MY 'POL' AND MY
+PARTNER 'JO.'"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+LATEST EQUIVALENT FOR "THE EAST WIND," AS REPLENISHMENT FOR HUNGRY
+STOMACHS.--The Royal Commission on the Aged Poor.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Punch, or the London Charivari, Vol.
+108, April 20, 1895, by Various
+
+*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PUNCH, CHARIVARI, APRIL 20, 1895 ***
+
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