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+*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 12378 ***
+
+PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.
+
+VOL. 99.
+
+
+
+August 30, 1890.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration]
+
+"WHY NOT LIVE OUT OF LONDON?"
+
+    SIR,--Capital subject recently started _Daily Telegraph_, with
+    the above title. Just what I've been saying to my wife for
+    years past. "Why don't _you and the family_ live out of
+    London," I have asked. And she has invariably replied, "Oh,
+    yes, and what would _you_ be doing in London?" I impress upon
+    her that being the "bread-winner" (beautiful word, this!) my
+    duty is to be on the spot where the bread is won. I prove
+    to her, in figures, that it is much cheaper for her and the
+    family to live out of town, and for me to come down and
+    see them, occasionally. Isn't it cheaper for one to go to a
+    theatre than four? Well, this applies everywhere all round.
+    With my Club and a good room I could get on very well and very
+    reasonably in London, and in the country my wife and family
+    _would positively save enormously_ by my absence, _as only the
+    necessaries of life would be required_. Dressing would be next
+    to nothing, so to speak, and they'd be out of reach of the
+    temptations which London offers to those who love theatre
+    entertainments, lunches at pastrycooks', shows, and shopping.
+    Yes, emphatically, I repeat, "Why not live out of London?"
+    _But she won't._
+
+    Yours,
+
+    ONE IN A THOUSAND.
+
+
+    SIR,--"Why not live out of London?" Of course. I _do_ live
+    "out of London," and make a precious good living too out of
+    London. My friends the Butcher, the Baker, the Greengrocer
+    (not a very green grocer either), the Tailor, the Shoemaker,
+    &c., &c., all say the same as
+
+    Yours cheerily,
+
+    CHARLES CHEDDAR _(Cheesemonger)._
+
+
+    SIR,--I only wish everybody I don't want to see _in_ London
+    would live _out of it_. What a thrice blessed time August
+    would be then! Though indeed I infinitely appreciate small
+    mercies _now_. At all events, most people are away, my Club is
+    not closed, and I can enjoy myself pretty thoroughly.
+
+    Yours,
+
+    _Elbow Room Club_.
+
+    BEAU WINDER.
+
+
+    SIR,--"Why not live out of London?" _Because one can't._ Out
+    of London there is only "existence." Is life worth living
+    anywhere except in London--and Paris; if you happen to be
+    there? No, no; those who like living "out of London," had
+    better not live at all.
+
+    Yours,
+
+    HIPPY CURE.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+MR. PUNCH'S DICTIONARY OF PHRASES.
+
+PRIVATE THEATRICALS.
+
+"_Tisn't a part that I_ feel, _and I fear I shall make a failure;"
+i.e.,_ "Easy as be blowed, but _I_'m thrown away upon it."
+
+
+TRADE EMBELLISHMENTS.
+
+"_The Ching-Twangs Central China Tea Company's selected growth of
+Early Green Leaf Spring Pickings;" i.e.,_ "A damaged cargo and last
+year's rotten sweepings, mingled with chipped broom, dried cabbage,
+and other equally suitable and inviting ingredients."
+
+
+AT LUNCHEON.
+
+"_No more, indeed, really;" i.e.,_ "Had nothing to eat--but more of
+_that_ stuff? No, thank you."
+
+
+ELECTIONEERING.
+
+"_The Leaders to whom the Nation owes its recent period of
+prosperity": i.e.,_ "Gentlemen who have unavoidably remained in Office
+during the revival of Trade."
+
+"_Having every personal respect for my opponent;" i.e.,_ "I now
+proceed to blacken his political character."
+
+
+IN THE SMOKING-ROOM.
+
+"_You know I always hate long arguments;" i.e.,_ "Don't deprive me of
+my pet diversion."
+
+"_No; I don't exactly see what you mean;" i.e.,_ "_You_ don't; but the
+admission on my part looks candid."
+
+"_My dear fellow, ask_ anyone _who really knows anything;" i.e._ "You
+appear to live among a half-educated set of local faddists."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+'ARRY ON 'ARRISON AND THE GLORIOUS TWELFTH.
+
+  DEAR CHARLIE,--No Parry for me, mate, not this season leastways--wus
+                   luck!
+  At the shop I'm employed in at present, the hands has all bloomin'
+                   well struck.
+  It's hupset all our 'olidays, CHARLIE, and as to my chance of a
+                   rise
+  Wot do _you_ think, old pal? I'm fair flummoxed, and singing, _Oh,
+                   what a surprise!_
+
+  These Strikes is becoming rare noosances, dashed if they ain't,
+                   dear old boy.
+  They're all over the shop, like Miss ZÆO, wot street-kids seems so
+                   to enjoy.
+  Mugs' game! They'll soon find as the Marsters ain't goin' to be
+                   worried and welched,
+  And when they rob coves of their 'olidays, 'ang it, they ought to
+                   be squelched.
+
+  'Owsomever, I'm mucked, that's a moral. This doosid dead-set
+                   against Wealth
+  Is a sign o' the times as looks orkud, and bad for the national
+                   'ealth.
+  There ain't nothink the nobs is fair nuts on but wot these 'ere
+                   bellerers ban.
+  Wy, they're down upon Sport, now, a pelter. Perposterous, ain't it,
+                   old man?
+
+  Bin a reading FRED 'ARRISON'S kibosh along o' "The Feast of
+                   St. Grouse,"
+  On the "Glorious Twelfth," as he calls it; wen swells is fair shut
+                   of the 'Ouse,
+  Its Obstruction, and similar 'orrors, in course they hikes off to
+                   the Moors.
+  Small blame to 'em, CHARLIE, small blame to 'em, spite of the prigs
+                   and the boors!
+
+  Yet this 'ARRISON he sets _his_ back up. Dry smug as can't 'andle
+                   a gun,
+  I'll bet Marlboro' 'Ouse to a broomstick, and ain't got no notion
+                   of Fun.
+  "Loves the Moors much too well for to carry one;" that's wot _he_
+                   says, sour old sap
+  Bet my boots as he can't 'it a 'aystack at twenty yards rise--eh,
+                   old chap?
+
+  _Him_ sweet on the heather, my pippin, or partial to feather
+                   and fur,
+  So long as yer never _kills_ nothink? Sech tommy-rot gives me
+                   the spur.
+  Yah! Scenery's all very proper, but where is the genuine pot
+  Who'd pad the 'oof over the Moors, if it weren't for the things
+                   to be shot?
+
+  "This swagger about killing birds is mere cant," sez this wobbling
+                   old wag.
+  From Arran he'd tramp to Dunrobin without the least chance of a bag!
+  "Peaceful hills," that's his patter, my pippin; no gillies, no
+                   luncheons, no game!
+  Wy, he ought to be tossed in a blanket; it fills a true Briton
+                   with shame.
+
+  No Moors for yours truly, wus luck! It won't run to it, CHARLIE,
+                   this round;
+  But give me my gun, and a chance, and I'll be in the swim, I'll
+                   be bound.
+  I did 'ave a turn some years back, though I only went out with
+                   'em once,
+  And I shot a bit wild, as was likely, fust off, though yer _may_n't
+                   be a dunce.
+
+  My rig out was a picter they told me--deer-stalker and knickers
+                   O.K.--
+  "BRIGGS, Junior," a lobsculler called me; I wasn't quite fly to
+                   his lay;
+  But BRIGGS or no BRIGGS I shaped spiffin, in mustard-and-mud-colour
+                   checks.
+  Ah! them Moors is the spots for cold Irish, and gives yer the
+                   primest of pecks.
+
+  Talk of sandwiges, CHARLIE, oh scissors, I'd soon ha' cleaned out
+                   Charing Cross,
+  With St. Pancrust and Ludgit chucked in; fairly hopened the eye of
+                   the boss;
+  Him as rented the shootings, yer know, big dry-salter in Thames
+                   Street, bit warm
+  In his langwige occasional, CHARLIE, but 'arty and reglar good form.
+
+  Swells will pal in most anywhere now on the chance of a gratis
+                   Big Shoot,
+  And there _wos_ some Swells with hus, I tell yer, I felt on the
+                   good gay galoot,
+  But I fancy I got jest a morsel screwdnoodleous late in the day,
+  For I peppered a bloke in the breeks; he swore bad, but 'twas
+                   only his play.
+
+  Bagged a brace and a arf, I did, CHARLIE; not bad for a novice
+                   like me.
+  Jest a bit blown about the fust two; wanted gathering up like,
+                   yer see.
+  A bird do look best with his 'ed on, dear boy, as a matter of taste;
+  And the gillies got jest a mite scoffy along of my natural 'aste.
+
+  Never arsked me no more, for some reason. But wot I would say is
+                   this here,
+  'ARRY's bin in this boat in his time, as in every prime lark pooty
+                   near,
+  And when 'ARRISON talks blooming bunkum, with hadjectives spicy and
+                   strong,
+  About Sport being stupid, and noisy, and vulgar; wy, 'ARRISON'S wrong!
+
+  _He_ would rather shoot broken-down cab-horses,--so the mug tells
+                   us--than birds.
+  Well, they're more in his line very likely; that means, in his own
+                   chosen words,
+  He's more fit for a hammytoor knacker than for that great boast of
+                   our land,
+  A true British Sportsman! Great Scott! It's a taste as I _carnt_
+                   understand.
+
+  Fact is this here FRED is a Demmycrat, Positivist, and all that.
+  There's the nick o' the matter, the reason of all this un-English
+                   wild chat.
+  He is down on the Aristos, CHARLIE, this 'ARRISON is. It's the Court
+  And the pick o' the Peerage Sport nobbles, and that's wy he sputters
+                   at Sport.
+
+  All a part of the game, dear old pal, the dead-set at the noble and
+                   rich.
+  "Smart people" are "Sports," mostly always, and 'ARRISON slates
+                   them as sich.
+  'Ates killing of "beautiful creatures," and spiling "the Tummel
+                   in spate"
+  With "drives," champagne luncheons, and gillies? _That_'s not wot
+                   sich slab-dabbers 'ate.
+
+  It's "Privileged Classes," my pippin, they loathes. Yer can't own a
+                   big Moor,
+  Or even rent one like my dry-salter friend, if yer 'umble and poor.
+  Don't 'ARRISON never _eat_ grouse? Ah, you bet, much as ever he'll
+                   carry.
+  There's "poz" for a Posit'vist, mate, there's 'ARRISON kiboshed
+                   by 'ARRY.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration: OUR YOTTING YORICK.
+
+YOTTING JOTTINGS.]
+
+Oh dear! oh dear! What perils I have been through! You'll see me again
+shortly; but there have been _momentums_ in my career when I said
+to myself, "Shall I ever _aller_ out of this alive!" I escaped the
+Petersburg police; they punched out your Cartoon, and all the lines
+about the Czar and the Jews; that's why I was so persecuted, and why
+I was watched. I wish to Heaven you wouldn't have Cartoons about Czars
+and Jews just when I'm at Peterborough, I mean Petersburg; same name,
+different place. But there, that's all over now, and _jamais_ will I
+go and put myself within the clutches of the Russian Bear again. The
+midnight sun must do without _me_ in future. I send you a sketch
+I made of a gargle--I think that's the name--on a church-door in
+Lapland. Isn't it really droll? You're always bothering me for
+something droll, and _now you've got it_. Then, _Mr. Punch_, riding
+a reindeer at half-a-crown an hour. Then here are the little Lapps
+offering our sailors a lap of liquor; and I said to myself, "One touch
+of Nature," which struck me as just the very motto for the picture. I
+roared with laughter at it. "This'll do for 'em at home," I said, and
+so here it is. And look at the "Lapps of Luxury"! You know that "Lap
+of Luxury" is a proverbial phrase; and, as you told me to make some
+comic sketches of the manners and customs of the country, why, I've
+done so; and, if they ain't funny, I don't know what humour is.
+_Voilà!_
+
+But you really must not expect me to grimace and buffoon. You must
+take me _seriatim_ or not at all. I can't stand on my head to sketch.
+I can't do it. I nearly _did_ do it, though, for when I had my
+sketching-book in my hand on board, the spanker-boom, or some such
+thing, came over suddenly and hit me such a whack on the head, that
+for two minutes I lay insensible, and thought I should never become
+sensible again. Rightly is it called "spanker-boom,"--that is if it
+_is_ called so, or some name very like it,--for I never got such a
+whack on the head in all my life before. I hear the Booming still in
+my ears.
+
+You can't expect a fellow to be funny, however funny he may _feel_
+(and I _did_ feel uncommonly funny, you may take your oath!), under
+such circumstances. However, as the song says, "Home once more,"
+and many a yarn shall I have to tell when I gather myself round the
+fireside, pipe all hands for grog, and sing you an old Norse song
+with real humour in it--though I dare say _you'll_ say you don't see
+it--and so no more _à présent_ from yours seasickly (I am quite well,
+but I mean I'm sick of the sea),
+
+FLOTSAM, Y.A.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+JOURNAL OF A ROLLING STONE.
+
+FIFTH ENTRY.
+
+Curious thing that to-day--after disappointment of failure for the
+Bar--letter comes from President of my old College, asking me "if I
+would accept a nice Tutorship for a time?" If so, "I had better come
+down and talk to him about it."
+
+Decided a little time ago not to try "Scholastic Profession"--thought
+it would try _me_ too much. Feel tempted now. _Query_--am I losing my
+old pluck? In consequence of my new "pluck,"--in the Bar Exam?
+
+"Um!" remarks the President (I _have_ run down and got a vacant
+bed-room in College). "Glad to see you. Oh, yes, about that tutorship.
+Um, um! The family live in Somerset." He mentions the county
+apologetically, as if he expected me to reply--"Oh, Somerset! Couldn't
+dream of going _there_. Not very particular, but must have a place
+within ten miles of Charing Cross." As I don't object to Somerset, at
+least audibly, he goes on more cheerfully--
+
+"Boy doesn't want to be taught much, so perhaps, it would suit
+you."--(_Query_--is this insulting?)--"He wants a companion
+more--somebody to keep him steady, have a good influence and all that,
+and give him a little classics and so on for about an hour a day."
+
+It did not sound as bad as I expected.
+
+"Rich people--um--merchants at Bristol, I think. Not very cultivated,
+though." Here President pauses again, and looks as if he would not be
+at all astonished if I rose from my chair, put on my hat, and said,
+"Not very cultivated! That won't suit _me_! You see how tremendously
+cultivated _I_ am." But I don't, and he proceeds calmly to another
+head of his discourse.
+
+"They haven't mentioned terms, but I'm sure they will be
+satisfactory--give you what you ask, in fact." (Rather a nice trait
+in their character, this.)--"Now, will you--um--take it? They want
+somebody at once."
+
+"Yes," I reply; "I'll go and see how I fancy it. Have they got a
+billiard-table, do you happen to know?"
+
+The President says, "he doesn't know anything about _that_," and looks
+a little surprised, as if I had proposed a game of skittles.
+
+On way down (next day) I feel rather like a Governess going to her
+first situation. Get to house late. Too dark to see what it's like.
+Have to drive up in a village fly. _Query_--Oughtn't they to have sent
+their carriage for me?
+
+My reception is peculiar. A stout, masculine-looking female with a
+strident voice, is presumably Mrs. BRISTOL MERCHANT.
+
+Sends me up to my bed-room as if I were my own luggage. Evidently very
+"uncultivated."
+
+In my bed-room. Above are the sounds of a small pandemonium,
+apparently. Stamping, falling, shouting, bumping, crying. What a lot
+of them there must be!
+
+There are! At supper--they appear to have early dinners, which I
+detest--three boys and one girl present, as a sample. Eldest a youth
+about ten, who puts out his tongue at me, when he thinks I'm not
+looking, and kicks his brothers beneath the table to make them cry,
+which they do. I begin to wonder when my real pupil will appear.
+
+Governess talks to me as if I were a brother professional.
+_Query--infra dig_. again?
+
+Children, being forbidden to talk in anything but French at meals, say
+nothing at all; at the end I am astounded at Materfamilias catching
+hold of the boy of ten, and bringing him round to me, with the
+remark,--
+
+"Perhaps you'd like to talk to ERNIE about lessons."
+
+Heavens! This nursery fledgling to be my pupil! And I am to be his
+"companion"! Fledgling, while standing in front of me for inspection,
+has the audacity to stretch out his leg, and trip up a little sister
+who is passing. Howls ensue.
+
+A nicely-mannered youth!
+
+"You will have to behave yourself with _me_, young man!" I warn him,
+in a tone which ought to abash him, but doesn't in the least.
+
+"Ah, but perhaps you won't stay here long," is his rather able
+rejoinder. "Our Governesses never--"
+
+"ERNIE!" shrieks his mother, threateningly. ERNIE stops; and I have
+time to regret my folly in not inquiring of the President the precise
+age of my promising disciple, very likely President didn't know
+himself.
+
+The other boys who were at supper are now presented to me. One is
+about eight, the other not more than six.
+
+"These are HERBIE and JACK," says their mother, who ought to know.
+Thank Heaven, _they_ are not my pupils!
+
+Mrs. BRISTOL MERCHANT horrifies me by saying--
+
+"I thought it would be so nice, when you were teaching ERNIE, _if_
+HERBIE _and_ JACK _could be taught too!_ And after lessons you will
+be able to take them such nice long walks in the neighbourhood! It's
+really very pretty country, Mr.--I forget your name."
+
+Oh, certainly, the President was quite right. She _is_ very
+uncultivated. That ever I was born to cultivate her--or her precious
+offspring! But was I? Time must show.
+
+[Illustration: SARTORIAL EUPHUISMS.
+
+"MEASUREMENTS ABOUT THE SAME AS THEY USED TO BE, SNIPPE?"
+
+"YES, SIR. CHEST A TRIFLE _LOWER DOWN_, SIR, THAT'S ALL!"]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+AN ARGUMENTUM AD POCKETUM.
+
+    [The Rev. B. MEREDYTH-KITSON called the attention of the
+    London School Board to the action of Mr. MONTAGU WILLIAMS,
+    who, being appealed to by "a respectable-looking woman" for
+    the remission of a fine of five shillings imposed upon her
+    husband for neglecting to send their children to school, gave
+    her five shillings out of the poor-box to pay it, on finding
+    that she had nine children, the eldest fifteen years, the
+    youngest five months, a husband out of work, and "no boots
+    for her children to go to school in." The Rev. STEWART HEADLAM
+    said that in East London they suffered a good deal through
+    the decisions of Mr. MONTAGU WILLIAMS, who constantly paid the
+    fines from the poor-box, or out of his own pocket!]
+
+  Oh, MONTAGU, this conduct is nefarious!
+    _You_ are, indeed, a pretty Magistrate!
+  Better the judgments, generous, if precarious,
+    Of the old Cadi at an Eastern gate.
+  No wonder that you madden MEREDTTH-KITSON,
+    And stir the bitter bile of STEWART HEADLAM.
+  When Justice, School-Board ruling simply "sits on,"
+    School-Boards become a mere annexe of--Bedlam!
+  Nine children! Husband out of work! No boots!
+    And do you really think that _these_ are reasons
+  For fine-remission? This strikes at the roots
+    Of Law, which ought to rule us at all seasons.
+  Oh, how shall KITSON educate the "kids,"
+    Or how shall HEADLAM discipline the mothers,
+  If you, instead of doing what Law bids,
+    Pay the poor creatures' fines and raise up bothers?
+  Law, Sir, is Law, even to Magistrates,
+    Not a mere chopping-block for maudlin charity.
+  Fining the impecunious doubtless grates
+    On feelings such as yours; there's some disparity
+  'Twixt School-Board Draconism, and regard
+    For parents penniless, and children bootless;
+  But pedagogues--ask HEADLAM--must be hard,
+    Or pedagogy's purposes are fruitless.
+  Poor creatures? Humph! Compassion's mighty fine;
+    A gentle feeling, who would wish to shock it?
+  But husbands out of work with children nine,
+    Should pay their fines themselves--not from _your_ pocket.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+KEPT IN TOWN.-A LAMENT.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+  The Season's ended; in the Park the vehicles are far and few,
+  And down the lately-crowded Row one horseman canters on a screw
+  By stacks of unperceptive chairs; the turf is burnt, the leaves are
+  brown, stagnant sultriness prevails--the very air's gone out of town!
+
+  Belgravia's drawn her blinds, and let her window-boxes run to seed;
+  Street-urchins play in porticoes--no powdered menial there to heed;
+  Now fainter grows the lumbering roll of luggage-cumbered omnibus:
+  Bayswater's children all are off upon their annual exodus.
+
+  On every hoarding posters flaunt the charms of peak, and loch, and sea,
+  To madden those unfortunates who have to stay in town--like me!
+  Gone are the inconsiderate friends who tell one airily, "They're off!"
+  And ask "what _you_ propose to do--yacht, shoot, or fish, or walk,
+  or golf?"
+
+  On many a door which opened wide in welcome but the other day,
+  The knocker basks in calm repose--conscious "the family's away."
+  I scan the windows--half in hope I may some friendly face detect--
+  To meet their blank brown-papered stare, depressing as the cut direct!
+
+  I pass the house where She is not, to feel an unfamiliar chill;
+  That door is disenchanted now, that number powerless to thrill!
+  'Twas there, in yonder balcony, that last July she used to stand;
+  Upon some balcony, more blest, she's leaning now, in Switzerland,
+
+  Her eyes upon rose-tinted peaks--but no, of sense I 'm quite bereft!
+  The hour is full early yet, and _table d hôte_ she'll scarce have left.
+  Some happy neighbour's handing her the salad--But I'll move, I think;
+  I see a grim caretaker's eye regard me through the shutter's chink.
+
+  Yes, I'll away,--no longer be the sport of sentiment forlorn,
+  But scale the heights of Primrose Hill, pretending it's the Matterhorn;
+  Or hie me through the dusk to sit beside the shimmering Serpentine,
+  And, with a little make-believe, imagine I am up the Rhine.
+
+  Alas! the poor device, I know, my restlessness will ne'er assuage:
+  Still Fanny beats, with pinions clipped, the wires of its Cockney cage!
+  No inch of turf to prisoned larks can represent the boundless moor;
+  And neither Hyde nor Regent's Park suggests a Continental Tour!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+VOCES POPULI.
+
+IN AN OMNIBUS.
+
+_The majority of the inside passengers, as usual, sit in solemn
+silence, and gaze past their opposite neighbours into vacancy. A
+couple of Matrons converse in wheezy whispers._
+
+_First Matron._ Well, I must say a bus is pleasanter riding than what
+they used to be not many years back, and then so much cheaper, too.
+Why, you can go all the way right from here to Mile End Road for
+threepence!
+
+_Second Matron._ What, all that way for threepence--(_with an impulse
+of vague humanity_.) The _poor_ 'orses!
+
+_First Matron._ Ah, well, my dear, it's Competition, you know,--it
+don't do to think too much of it.
+
+_Conductor (stopping the bus)._ Orchard Street, Lady.
+
+_To_ Second Matron, _who had desired to be put down there._
+
+_Second Matron (to_ Conductor). Just move on a few doors further,
+opposite the boot-shop. (_To_ First Matron.) It will save us walking.
+
+_Conductor._ Cert'inly, Mum, we'll drive in and wait while you 're
+tryin' 'em on, if you like--_we_ ain't in no 'urry!
+
+_The_ Matrons _get out, and their places are taken by two young girls,
+who are in the middle of a conversation of thrilling interest._
+
+_First Girl._ I never liked her myself--ever since the way she behaved
+at his Mother's that Sunday.
+
+_Second Girl._ How _did_ she behave?
+
+_[A faint curiosity is discernible amongst the other passengers to
+learn how she--whoever she is--behaved that Sunday.
+
+First Girl._ Why, it was you _told_ me! _You_ remember. That night JOE
+let out about her and the automatic scent fountain.
+
+_Second Girl._ Oh, yes, I remember now. _(General disappointment. )_ I
+couldn't help laughing myself. Joe didn't ought to have told--but she
+needn't have got into such a state over it, _need_ she?
+
+_First Girl,_ That was ELIZA all over. If GEORGE had been sensible,
+he'd have broken it off then and there--but no, he wouldn't hear a
+word against her, not at that time--it was the button-hook opened
+_his_ eyes!
+
+_[The other passengers strive to dissemble a frantic desire to know
+how and why this delicate operation was performed._ Second Girl
+(mysteriously)_. And enough too! But what put GEORGE off most was her
+keeping that bag so quiet.
+
+_[The general imagination is once more stirred to its depths by this
+mysterious allusion._
+
+_First Girl._ Yes, he did feel that, I know, he used to come and go
+on about it to me by the hour together. "I shouldn't have minded so
+much," he told me over and over again, with the tears standing in his
+eyes,--"if it hadn't been that the bottles was all silver-mounted!"
+
+_Second Girl._ Silver-mounted? I never heard of _that_ before--no
+wonder he felt hurt!
+
+_First Girl (impressively)._ Silver tops to everyone of them--and that
+girl to turn round as she did, and her with an Uncle in the oil and
+colour line, too--it nearly broke GEORGE'S 'art!
+
+_Second Girl_. He's such a one to take on about things--but, as I said
+to him, "GEORGE," I says, "You must remember it might have been worse.
+Suppose you'd been married to that girl, and _then_ found out about
+ALF and the Jubilee sixpence--how would _that_ have been?"
+
+_First Girl (unconsciously acting as the mouth-piece of the other
+passengers)._ And what did he say to _that?_
+
+_Second Girl._ Oh, nothing--there was nothing he _could_ say, but
+I could see he was struck. She behaved very mean to the last--she
+wouldn't send back the German concertina.
+
+_First Girl._ You don't say so! Well, I wouldn't have thought that of
+her, bad as she is.
+
+_Second Girl._ No, she stuck to it that it wasn't like a regular
+present, being got through a grocer, and as she couldn't send him back
+the tea, being drunk,--but did you hear how she treated EMMA over the
+crinoline 'at she got for her?
+
+_First Girl (to the immense relief of the rest)._ No, what was that?
+
+_Second Girl._ Well, I had it from EMMA her own self. ELIZA wrote up
+to her and says, in a postscript like,--Why, this is Tottenham Court
+Road, I get out here. Good-bye, dear, I must tell you the rest another
+day.
+
+_[Gets out, leaving the tantalised audience inconsolable, and longing
+for courage to question her companion as to the precise details of_
+ELIZA'S _heartless behaviour to_ GEORGE. _The companion, however,
+relapses into a stony reserve. Enter a_ Chatty Old Gentleman _who has
+no secrets from anybody, and of course selects as the first recipient
+of his confidence the one person who hates to be talked to in an
+omnibus._
+
+_The Chatty O.G._ I've just been having a talk with the policeman at
+the corner there--what do you think I said to him?
+
+_His Opposite Neighbour._ I--I really don't know.
+
+_The C.O.G._ Well, I told him he was a rich man compared to me. He
+said, "I only get thirty shillings a week, Sir." "Ah," I said, "but
+look at your expenses, compared to mine. What would _you_ do if you
+had to spend eight hundred a year on your children's education? I
+spend that--every penny of it, Sir.
+
+_His Opp. N. (utterly uninterested)._ Do you indeed?--dear me!
+
+_C.O.G._ Not that I grudge it--a good education is a fortune in
+itself, and as I've always told my boys, they must make the best of
+it, for it's all they'll get. They're good enough lads, but I've had
+a deal of trouble with them one way and another--a _deal_ of trouble.
+_(Pauses for some expression of sympathy--which does not come--and he
+continues:)_ There are my two eldest sons--what must they do but fall
+in love with the same lady--the same lady. Sir! _(No one seems to care
+much for these domestic revelations--possibly because they are too
+obviously addressed to the general ear.)_ And, to make matters worse,
+she was a married woman--_(his principal hearer looks another way
+uneasily)_--the wife of a godson of mine, which made it all the more
+awkward, y'know. (His Opposite Neighbour _giving no sign, the_ C. O.
+G. _tries one Passenger after another.)_ Well, I went to him--(here he
+fixes an old Lady, who immediately passes up coppers out of her glove
+to the_ Conductor)--went to him, and said--_(addressing a smartly
+dressed young Lady with a parcel, who giggles)_--I said, "You're a man
+of the world--so am I. Don't you take any notice," I told him--_(this
+to a callow young man, who blushes)_--"they're a Couple of young
+fools," I said, "but you tell your dear wife from me not to mind those
+boys of mine--they'll soon get tired of it if they're only let alone."
+And so they would have, long ago, it's my belief, if they'd met with
+no encouragement--but what can _I_ do--it's a heavy trial to a father,
+you know. Then there's my third son--he must needs go and marry--_(to
+a Lady at his side with a reticule, who gasps faintly)_--some young
+woman who dances at a Music-hall--nice daughter-in-law that for a man
+in my position, eh? I've forbidden him the house of course, and
+told his mother not to have any communication with him--but I know,
+Sir,--_(violently, to a Man on his other side, who coughs in much
+embarrassment)_--I _know_ she meets him once a week under the eagle
+in Orme Square, and _I_ can't stop her! Then I'm worried about my
+daughters--one of 'em gave me no peace till I let her have some
+painting lessons--of course, I naturally thought the drawing-master
+would be an elderly man--whereas, as things turned out,--
+
+_A Quiet Man in a Corner._ I 'ope you told all this to the Policeman,
+Sir?
+
+_The C.O.G. (flaming unexpectedly)._ No, Sir, I did _not_. I am not
+in the habit--whatever _you_ may be--of discussing my private affairs
+with strangers. I consider your remark highly impertinent, Sir.
+
+[_Fumes in silence for the rest of the journey.
+
+The Young Lady with the Parcel (to her friend--for the sake of
+vindicating her gentility)._ Oh, my dear, I do feel so funny, carrying
+a great brown-paper parcel, in a bus, too! Anyone would take me for a
+shop-girl!
+
+_A Grim Old Lady opposite._ And I only hope, my dear, you'll never be
+taken for anyone less respectable.
+
+[_Collapse of_ Genteel Y. L.
+
+_The Conductor_. Benk, benk! _(he means "Bank")_ 'Oborn, benk! 'Igher
+up there, BILL, can't you?
+
+_A Dingy Man smoking, in a Van._ Want to block up the ole o' the road,
+eh? That's right!
+
+_The Conductor (roused to personality)._ Go 'ome, Dirty DICK! syme
+old soign, I see,--"Monkey an' Pipe!" _(To Coachman of smart brougham
+which is pressing rather closely behind.)_ I say, old man, don't
+you race after my bus like this--you'll only tire your 'orse. _[The
+Coachman affects not to have heard._
+
+_The Conductor (addressing the brougham horse, whose head is almost
+through the door of the omnibus)._ 'Ere, '_ang_ it all!--step insoide,
+if yer want to!
+
+_[Brougham falls to rear_--_triumph of_ Conductor _as Scene closes_.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+IN THE KNOW.
+
+_(By Mr. Punch's Own Prophet.)_
+
+[Illustration]
+
+Readers of this journal will be surprised to learn that I am penning
+these lines from Blancheville, which as everybody, except the chief
+of the chowder-heads, knows is the most important town of one of the
+principal departments of France. Nothing but an overwhelming sense of
+what is due to myself, to my readers, and to my country, would have
+dragged me from the Metropolis at this season of the year. But a
+distinction was offered to me, a distinction so unique and so dazzling
+that I felt that it would not be fair to my fellow countrymen, of all
+ages, and of every party, if I failed to take advantage of it,
+and thus to present to the envious world the proud spectacle of an
+Englishman honoured by the great French nation. I will narrate the
+matter as briefly as is consistent with my respect for accuracy, and
+with my contempt for the tapioca-brained nincompoops who snarl,
+and chatter, and cackle at me in the organ of Mr. J. Last Friday I
+received this telegram:--
+
+_Blancheville, Friday._
+
+The inhabitants of Blancheville, in public meeting assembled,
+felicitate you on stupendous success of all your prophecies. Desiring
+to honour you in the name of France, the mother of glorious heroes,
+and the eldest daughter of Liberty, they have awarded to you the
+Montyon prize for virtue, and have selected you as _Rosier en
+perpétuité de Blancheville_, a new post never before held by a man.
+Presentation on Sunday. Come at once.
+
+_(Signed)_
+
+CARAMEL, _Maire de Blancheville._
+
+I started that evening. In the course of the following day I reached
+Blancheville. The people, in their holiday attire, were gathered
+in thousands at the railway station. M. CARAMEL, accompanied by the
+_Préfet_ and the _Sous-Préfet,_ all in their tricolor sashes, was
+the first to greet me. Saluting me on both cheeks, he called upon the
+world to witness that this was indeed a great day for Blancheville. My
+escort, under the command of General Count CROUTAUPOT, then formed
+up. I mounted the gilded Car of Victory, specially provided for the
+celebration, and, amidst the plaudits of the assembled millions, I was
+drawn by a specially-selected band of _Enfants de la Patrie_ (a sort
+of body-guard, composed entirely of the French aristocracy) to the
+palace, which had been prepared for my reception. At the banquet, in
+the Town Hall, the healths of the QUEEN and of M. CARNOT were followed
+by a lengthy speech, in English, from my brother CARAMEL (we have
+sworn fraternity), in which he declared that the centuries looked down
+and redazed in this joice, and that it was a delight for him to
+carry a toast to the illustrious visitor who had deigned to come
+to Blancheville. On the following day the ceremony took place. I
+transcribe and translate from _Le Petit Colporteur de Blancheville_,
+the chief local journal, an account of what took place.
+
+"On this day, so great and glorious for our France, it is not possible
+to refrain from tears of joy and satisfaction. We have made him
+_Rosier en perpétuité de Blancheville_, him the proudest and most
+sympathetic writer who has dazzled Europe since the great and
+illustrious PLUMEAU" (a local author of repute) "departed from us.
+The history of this day must be written. Let us essay to do it as it
+should be done. In the early morning twelve selected maidens, robed in
+muslin and lilies, sang the _Tocsin de la Patrie_ outside the Palace
+where our guest reposed. Soon afterwards he himself appeared in
+flowing white garments, and showered blessings upon their heads. He
+descended. He entered the four-in-hand-teams which the _Maire_ had,
+as a compliment to England, made up with a _char-à-banc_ of the
+neighbourhood. Thus he was drawn to the Market Place, where some of
+our bravest veterans fired in his honour a thundering salute. The
+beautiful and admirable Madame CARAMEL then advanced to him with a
+wreath of roses in her hand. She crowned him with it, saying, 'Wear
+this for Blancheville. Nobly hast thou earned it.' With difficulty the
+illustrious author preserved his calm. A tear sparkled in his eye. He
+bent low, and in a voice choked with emotion, thanked the citizens of
+our town. Then mounting on a milk-white steed, and surrounded by the
+young men of the district, he received from the _Préfet_ the Prix
+Montyon for virtue."
+
+The rest is too flattering. I am hastening home. The QUEEN has been
+graciously pleased to permit me to wear the Prix Montyon at Court. Can
+a man want more? Yours, in all humility,
+
+LE ROSIER DE BLANCHEVILLE.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+A PUFF AT WHITEHALL.
+
+_(A piece of extravagance faintly suggestive of a Scene from "The
+Critic.")_
+
+Lord GEORGE PUFF _and_ Sir JOHN BULL _discovered attending a rehearsal
+of the Naval Estimates._
+
+_Lord George._ And now I pray your particular attention, Sir JOHN, as
+this is the best thing in my play--it is a spectacular effect called
+the Summer Manoeuvres.
+
+_Sir John._ And no doubt costly, Lord GEORGE?
+
+_Lord George._ You are right, Sir JOHN, as you will have an
+opportunity of finding out--hereafter. But to the argument. It is
+supposed that the British Fleet is at war with, indeed, the British
+Fleet.
+
+_Sir John._ A very clever idea.
+
+_Lord George._ I flatter myself it is, and novel too. It is true that
+occasionally the ships comprising the British Fleet have run into one
+another in the past just as if they had been at war, but then they
+were avowedly at peace, and now they are undoubtedly the reverse. Do
+you take my meaning?
+
+_Sir John._ Well, not clearly. How do you show that the British Fleet
+is at war with the British Fleet?
+
+_Lord George._ Ah, there comes in my art, and I think you will confess
+I have a very pretty wit. You see I divide the British Fleet into two
+parts--one part represents the enemy and the other part represents
+itself like the House of Commons, a most representative body. That is
+clear, I hope?
+
+_Sir John._ Certainly--one is the British Fleet, and the other is not
+the British Fleet. But is there no bond of union?
+
+_Lord George._ Most assuredly there is--you pay for both. But, pardon
+me, I beg you will not further interrupt me. So, now that we have the
+two Fleets face to face, or, I should say, bow to starn, we proceed
+exactly as if there were a real quarrel between them. We spend money
+on coal, we spend money on pay, we spend money on ammunition. Nay,
+by my life, we spend money on everything--just as we should do if war
+were really declared! That's simple enough.
+
+_Sir John._ I confess your plan _does_ seem simple.
+
+_Lord George._ And there is more behind. We are not satisfied with
+merely spending money--we learn a lesson as well. Come, you must
+confess _that_ surprises you?
+
+_Sir John._ Well, I admit that generally, where there is any spending
+of money, it is _I_ who learn the lesson.
+
+_Lord George._ Good--distinctly good! But let us be serious. Well,
+when we are carrying on a war by every means in our power, we fancy
+that one Fleet is chasing the other. They both have equal speed, and
+we give one Fleet twenty-four hours' start of the other, and will you
+believe me that, although the first follows the second as fast as may
+be from the beginning to the end of the manoeuvring, they never see
+one another! On my life--never! They never see the British Fleet,
+because it's not in sight!
+
+_Sir John_. But could you not have learned all this without so great
+an expenditure of money?
+
+_Lord George._ Well, no, Sir JOHN--not at the Admiralty!
+
+_Sir John._ And how do you end the farce?
+
+_Lord George._ In the usual fashion, Sir JOHN _(ignites blue
+fire)_--in smoke!
+
+_[The characters are lost in the fog customary to the occasion.
+Curtain._
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration: A SEVERE SABBATARIAN.
+
+_Mr. Bung (Landlord of "Ye Pygge and Whistle")._ "SUNDAY LEAGUE,
+INDEED! _I'D_ SUNDAY LEAGUE 'EM, IF I'D A CHANCE!--BREAKIN' THE
+LORD'SD'Y, AND HINTERFERIN' WITH MY TRYDE!"]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"SHADOWED!"
+
+  Shadowed! Ay, even in the holiday season,
+    The Statesman, in his hard-earned hour of ease,
+  Is haunted by forebodings, and with reason.
+    What is that spectre the tired slumberer sees?
+  The foul familiar lineaments affright him;
+    Its pose of menace and its pointing hand
+  To caution urge, to providence invite him,
+    To foil this scourge of the Distressful Land.
+
+  Who does _not_ fear to speak of Forty-Seven,
+    When that same Shadow darkened all the isle?
+  Is _it_ abroad once more? Avert it, Heaven!
+    On Order's lips it chills the dawning smile;
+  Awakener of hushed fears and hatreds dying,
+    Blighter of more than Nature's genial growth,
+  Herald of hungering lips, of children crying,
+    To hold thee imminent all hearts are loth.
+
+  Vain holiday nepenthe, sport's unbending,
+    The Statesman's burdened brain may not forget.
+  His cares are ceaseless and his toils unending,
+    Memories embarrass and forebodings fret.
+  The gun, the golf-club, and the rod avail not
+    In his tired heart to make full holiday;
+  E'en amidst pastime he must watch, and fail not,
+    Approaching ills, the shadows on the way.
+
+  Shadowed! And not by common gloom, poor Minister!
+    The passing shades that chequer every course.
+  This spectral presence is as stern and sinister
+    As _atra cura_ on the rider's horse.
+  Before, the vision of the helpless peasant!
+    Behind, the famine phantom black and grim!
+  How should the holiday-hour, to all so pleasant,
+    Bring gladness true or genuine rest to him?
+
+  Wake! There is need for provident prevision,
+    For watchful eye, and for most wary hand.
+  In mellow Autumn's interlude Elysian
+    The old grim Shadow strikes across the land.
+  May Heaven arrest its course, avert its terror,
+    And keep the Statesman who this foe must fight
+  From careless blindness and from blundering error,
+    Such as of old lent aid to the Black Blight.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"JACK SHEPPARD REVERSED."
+
+This is the title of an amusing article in last week's _Saturday
+Review_. It is not the story of JACK SHEPPARD once more done into
+rhyme. The title so happily selected is thoroughly justified by the
+doings of an eccentric and original burglar, who, broke _into_ a
+prison! This certainly was JACK SHEPPARD reversed with a vengeance!
+The hero of the escapade is said to be a tinted native of
+Barbadoes--his portrait should be published as a companion to the
+"penny plain" of his prototype as "twopence coloured."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+CARDINAL MANNING'S PRECEDENCE.
+
+  It does not need heraldic lore
+    The Cardinal's place to find.
+  Of course he'll always come before
+    The ones who are behind.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+THE PHAGOCYTE.
+
+_(The Story of a Blood Feud.)_
+
+    [A microscopist has found an organism called the Phagocyte in
+    the blood, which pursues and devours the Bacilli.]
+
+  Strange the tale that Science tells.
+  Here are some devouring cells:
+  Ever watchful night and day,
+  They the vile Bacillus slay;
+  Wot we well he fears the bite
+  Of the guardian Phagocyte.
+
+  Hour by hour the fight goes on,
+  Till the silent battle's won;
+  Vainly do Bacilli shirk
+  When their deadly foe's at work;
+  Every microbe faints with fright
+  At the fearsome Phagocyte.
+
+  Should the Phagocyte not keep
+  Faithful ward, but go to sleep;
+  Then Bacillus, in high glee,
+  Works his will on you and me;
+  Danger would be ours to-night,
+  But for that same Phagocyte.
+
+  Such a tale of Science seems
+  Like the offspring of wild dreams;
+  Fiction surely, in good sooth,
+  Can invent no tale like truth.
+  Stranger story none could write
+  Than this of the Phagocyte.
+
+  The Astronomer descries
+  Worlds on worlds beyond our eyes;
+  'Neath the microscope weird things
+  Erst unseen whirl round in rings;
+  Hence it is that we indite
+  Stanzas to the Phagocyte.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration: "SHADOWED!"]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration: A SPECULATIVE OFFER.
+
+_Driver._ "NOW, TOM, WHEN WE ARRIVE AT THE TURN, I'LL SELL YOU THE
+DOG-CART FOR A SOV!"]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+MR. PUNCH'S SWIM ROUND THE WORLD.
+
+_(From his own Prophetic Log-book.)_
+
+
+_Herne Bay._--The weather being extremely favourable, I jumped off
+the end of the new pier, and, getting the benefit of the flood
+tide, passed the Nore and inspected Southend. Swimming quite easily,
+assisted by one or two short rests.
+
+_Margate._--Beached this popular seaside place a few hours later. Swam
+out of sight of the sands to rid myself of a view of the excursion
+riff-raff thereon congregated. Sea completely smooth, but cold. Took a
+nip of ----'s English Cognac.
+
+_Ramsgate._--Very pleased to find myself abreast of the Royal
+Crescent, which seemed delightful. Cape Grisnez still bearing N.E. by
+E. Munched one of ----'s excellent Birchrod Biscuits.
+
+_Dover._--Just had a good long rest in front of Clarence Lawn, which
+glistened in the sunlight. Greatly refreshed after a drink of ----'s
+Essence of Gravy beef.
+
+_Calais._--A shower of rain came on at this point. However, one of
+----'s excellent umbrellas kept my head dry, and, being easy to hold,
+did not prevent me from swimming and writing up my log.
+
+_Gibraltar._--I felt very fatigued going through the Bay of Biscay,
+but recovered much of my strength off the fortress by sucking one of
+----'s capital Kill-cough Lozenges.
+
+_Malta._--I have now been in the water six days and three nights
+continuously, and yet am nearly as fresh as when I started. I
+attribute this marvellous fact to my practice of sipping ----'s
+Essence of Coffeetine.
+
+_Aden._--Water extremely hot, but am still confident of success.
+Went to sleep for an hour in the Red Sea, smoking one of ----'s
+Anti-alligator cigarettes, which are a real preventive against
+crocodile annoyance.
+
+_Madras._--Am continuing my side-stroke but somewhat languidly. I
+half regretted that I was unable to go on shore to see the Indian
+curiosities. Much refreshed after partaking of the contents of ----'s
+Patent Luncheon Basket.
+
+_Singapore._--Have now been continually in the water for six weeks.
+Regret that my log should be so "scrappy," but my time just now is
+very much occupied by other things. Tired, but confident of success.
+During the last fortnight have fed with great relish upon ----'s
+_Purée de foies gras._ It is not only cheap, but excellent.
+
+_New Hebrides._--Am now within measurable distance of the end of my
+journey. Quite accustomed to the water. However, greatly fatigued, and
+very pleased to eat some of ----'s Alimentary Condiment.
+
+_Pitcairn Island._--Glad to be again in these latitudes. My strokes
+are now very feeble. I should have to give in were it not for ----'s
+Medicated Mutton Broth, which seems to be most nourishing.
+
+_Cape Town._--In a fainting condition. Scarcely able to hold this pen.
+Became better after eating ----'s Digestible Plum Puddings, sold in
+tin canisters at 1s. 10d. per pound.
+
+_Rio Janeiro._--Terribly hot and exhausted. I have now been three
+months continuously in the water, which is certainly a long time. Much
+amused with a toy called ----'s Mechanical Rabbit.
+
+_Cape Verde Islands._--Almost unconscious from fatigue. However, I can
+swim more easily after I have drunk a glass or two of ----'s Cabbage
+Rose Temperance Non-Intoxicating Sherry. It is a most admirable
+beverage.
+
+_Madeira._--I move with the greatest difficulty, and fear I must be
+sinking. I obtain great strength from an occasional sip of ----'s
+"Beef-fibre" (title registered) which seems to me worth twice its
+weight in gold.
+
+_Dublin._--Have now been in the water continuously for nearly half a
+year. Too feeble to look at Dublin. I am evidently sinking, and can
+only keep off a relapse by eating ----'s Patent Vegetable Substitute
+for Roast Pork.
+
+_Herne Bay._--Returned dead--quite dead! Restored to life by inhaling
+----'s Vitality Producer.
+
+N.B.--The above blanks will be filled up with real names. For
+particulars apply at 85, Fleet Street Advertisement Department.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+A BLACK BUSINESS.
+
+As stated in the _Daily Telegraph_ of Thursday last, the Russian
+Censor stamped out _Mr. Punch's_ Cartoon, "From Nile to Neva," and
+obliterated the verses. The _St. James's Gazette_ suggested that the
+Cartoon was thus reproduced in Whistlerian fashion. It certainly is a
+study in black, without any relief whatever. A Black business indeed!
+Who shall correct the Censor Incensed? Even _Mr. Punch_ himself
+would be chary about visiting Petersburg, lest he should be "bound in
+Russia,"--and sent to Siberia.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration: IMITATION THE SINCEREST FLATTERY.
+
+_(Effects of a Long Session in the House.)_]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+WHAT THE TAME RABBIT SAID TO THE GRAND OLD GARDENER.
+
+_(Some way after "Alice in Wonderland.")_
+
+"The work of Major MORANT is headed _Profitable Rabbit Farming.
+(Laughter.)_ Yes, that is a subject for merriment, probably, on
+account of its comparative novelty, but it is also a subject of
+satisfaction, which is akin to merriment, because this rabbit-farming
+appears to be a very good and promising description of pursuit....
+That is the raising of tame rabbits."--_Mr. Gladstone at the Hawarden
+Floral and Horticultural Society's Show._
+
+_These were the verses the Tame Rabbit recited_:--
+
+  The Grand Old Man was on the stir;
+    MORANT named me to him;
+  He gave me a good character;
+    I thought his meaning dim.
+
+  He held me up; they thought it fun!
+    And laughed; he chid their glee.
+  If he should push this matter on,
+    What will become of Me?
+
+  He said I was a paying game,
+    Commending me as such.
+  That's the result of being tame,
+    And living in a hutch.
+
+  My notion is that it is vain
+    For you, you Grand Old Fella,
+  To rave of rabbits in the rain,
+    Beneath a big umbrella.
+
+  Don't let them know _we_ fatten best,
+    For this should ever be
+  A secret kept from all the rest,
+    Between yourself and me!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration: AMONG THE BUNNIES.]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+LITERATURE AND LOTTERY.
+
+_(By a Patron of the Popular Press.)_
+
+  Yes, I've "a literary taste,"
+    And patronise a weekly journal;
+  'Tis what is called _Scissors and Paste_,
+    The paper's poor, the print's infernal.
+  But what of that, when, week by week,
+    High at the sight of it hope rises?
+  What in my Magazine I seek
+    Is just--a medium for Prizes!
+  I can't be bothered to read much,
+    I like my literature in snippets.
+  My hope is, with good luck, to clutch
+    Villas, gold watches, sable tippets.
+  A coupon and some weekly pence
+    Give me a chance of an annuity.
+  Oh, the excitement is intense!
+    I read with ardent assiduity,
+  _Not_ what the poor ink-spillers say
+    In sparkling "par," or essay solemn;
+  No, what I read, with triumph gay
+    Or hope deferred, is--the Prize Column!
+  On prose my time I seldom waste,
+    And poetry is poor and pottery.
+  But oh! I have an ardent taste
+    For Literature when linked with Lottery!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+ROBERT'S LITTLE HOLLERDAY.
+
+My hollerday, or sum of it, was spent in Hopen Spaces. Hif anybody as
+has got two eyes in his hed, and a hart in his buzzom, wants for to
+see what can be done with about 40 hakers of land--witch the most
+respecfool Gardiner told me was about the size of the Queen's Park at
+Kilburn--let him go there on a fine Summer's Arternoon, and see jest
+about five thowsen children a playing about there, all free, and
+hindependent, and appy, with two fountings to drink when they're ot
+and thirsty, and a nice littel Jim Nasyum to climb up and down. They
+ain't allowed to play at Cricket coz there ain't not room enuf, but
+I did see two bold littel chaps, about six a peace, a breaking of the
+Law, and a playing at the forbidden game, with a jacket for the wicket
+and a stick for a Bat, and the kind-arted Gardiner hadn't got hart
+enuff to stop 'em.
+
+He told me as how, when the Copperashun fust took possesshun of it,
+it was nothink but a Baron Swomp, but that, what with the spending of
+lots of money, and the souperintending genus of Major MAKENZIE, in
+two years it was maid to blossom like a rose. I spent a werry plessant
+arternoon there, and drove home in style on the Box Seat of a reel
+Company's Bus. The nex day I went to Higate Wood, another of the grate
+works of the good old Copperashun. And lawks, what a difference! No
+swarms of children a playing about on the grass, but lots and lots
+on 'em a racing about among the hundreds of trees, and their warious
+fathers and mothers a looking on with smiling faces and prowd looks.
+There is one place in the werry middle of the Wood where no less than
+sewen parths meets, and there the Copperashun Committee has bilt up a
+bewtifool Founting, and a long hinskripshun in praise of Water, tho
+I shood dout if they speaks from werry much pussonal xperience. I was
+told as how, when they fust hopened the Founting, the Chairman made a
+bewtifool speech, and ended by saying, "Water, brite Water for me, and
+Wine for the trembling Debborshee," and then they all went off to a
+jolly good dinner.
+
+With that artistick taste as so distinguishes 'em, they have crissened
+the place where the seven roads meets, "The Seven Dials." There was
+crowds of peeple there, all enjoying of themselves in a nice quiet
+way, and altogether it was a werry werry nice site.
+
+The werry next day I started in the warm sunshine for pretty West Ham
+Park, and had a leetle adwenture as ushal, for jest as I got there who
+shoud I meet but the rayther sillybrated Parson of the Parish--tho'
+judgin by aperiences I shoud have took him for the Bishop of
+ESSEX--and seeing me in my new Hat and my best black Coat, he werry
+naterally took me for a inquiring Wisitor, and told me all about the
+good deed of the Copperashun in saving the Park for the good of the
+Peeple. There was some werry little chaps a playing Cricket as before
+despite of the Law, and they had a reel bat too, and one on 'em,
+seeing me a looking on apruvingly, gave the ball such a tremenjus blow
+that he got a tooer, so I called out braywo!
+
+There seemed a lot of washing going on jest outside the Park, the
+white shirts and settera, flustering gaily in the breeze. But, as the
+Poet says, "they're allus Washing somewheres in the World!" The common
+peeple was orderd to walk on the footpaths, but a gardiner told me as
+them orders was not ment for such as me. I had a most copious Lunch
+for tuppense in the helegant Pawillion, and being in a jowial and
+ginerus mood, I treated six of the jewwenile natives to a simmeler
+Bankwet. Then there is the sillibrated Band as the Copperashun
+perwides twice a week, on which occasions reserwed seats is charged
+a penny each. The werry adwanced state of the musical taste of the
+nayberhood may be judged by the fact, that at a Concert close by, a
+"Ode to a Butterfly" was to be played on a base Trombone!
+
+The Gardiner told me as there was such a crowd of children on larst
+Bank Hollerday that there was hardly room to move about, tho' the Park
+is 80 hakers big; but as I am told that such a space wood hold
+about 80 thousand, quite cumferal, I thinks as he must have slitely
+xadgerated.
+
+ROBERT.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+A STRIKING NURSERY RHYME.
+
+_(With a Moral.)_
+
+  Tilbury, Tilbury Dock!
+  The men struck--on a rock;
+    For their U-ni-on
+    Said, "Wrong you have done!"
+  Tilbury, Tilbury Dock!
+
+  Tilbury, Tilbury scare!
+  This "Striking" seems in the air.
+    Conciliation
+    Should free the nation
+  From Tilbury, Tilbury scare!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+THE PROFESSIONAL GUEST.
+
+AT THE SEA-SIDE.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+DEAR MR. PUNCH,--When I last wrote to you I was anticipatorily
+revelling in the sea-bathing, tennis tournaments, pier band, and
+evening promenades of Flatsands. Alas! that I must confess it,
+but, after a fortnight's visit to that "salubrious spot" (_vide_
+highly-coloured advertisements), I give it as my opinion that
+Flatsands is a failure; and I think that, when you have listened to,
+or rather perused, my tale of woe, you will agree with me that it is a
+place to be avoided at all costs.
+
+On the difficulties and length of my journey thither (I changed five
+times, and spent nine hours in doing so), I will not dwell, neither
+will I lay stress on the fact that, when I did at last reach my
+destination, a prospect void of either Aunt, or conveyance of any
+kind, met my view, or that a heavy sea-mist had gathered, and was
+falling in the guise of penetrating, if fine, rain. After parleying
+with the station-master for some time, I ascertained that the station
+'bus never put in an appearance in wet weather, and that I could
+not get a closed fly, because the Flatsands' conveyances were all
+pony-traps, and therefore hoodless. He, however, directed me towards
+Balmoral, which was my Aunt's address, and told me that ten minutes'
+walk would take me, and that my luggage should be sent after me, on a
+truck.
+
+After some difficulty, for the sea-fog was very thick, I discovered
+Balmoral, but not my Aunt. The truculent-looking proprietor of the
+house, who answered the door, condescended to inform me that my
+relative "was the difficultest lady he'd ever had to do for. And that
+she'd left two days a-gone." But where she had betaken herself to,
+he either would not or could not tell me. "You'd best try along this
+row," he said, and then slammed the door in my face. Having nothing
+better to do, I followed his advice, and "tried along the row." I rang
+at Osborne, Sandringham, and Windsor. I knocked at Claremont (the bell
+was broken there), and walked boldly into Marlborough House, for that
+royal residence in particular was devoid of all ordinary means of
+heralding one's approach. I was just giving up my quest in despair,
+when through the rain, which was now falling heavily, I spied a small
+stucco villa standing shrinkingly back behind a row of palings, which,
+in spite of their green paint, looked more like domestic fire-sticks
+than anything else. The somewhat suggestive name of Frogmore was
+inscribed on the small gate, and I remembered that I quite shivered as
+I walked up the sloppy path, with my usual inquiry ready to hand.
+This time, though, I was right, and when, a few minutes later, I was
+sitting before a roaring fire, imbibing hot tea, and listening to
+my Aunt's account of her latest complaint (did I tell you she was
+hypochondriacal?) I felt that really and at last I was in for a
+pleasant visit.
+
+The evening proved a short one, for Aunt retired at nine, for which I
+was not sorry, as by that time the atmosphere of the sitting-room was
+distinctly stuffy, and neither dinner, nor the fumes of the invalid's
+hot-and-strong "night-cap" improved it. Next morning I sympathised
+with her on the fact that, soon after she had gone to bed, the
+young lady on the drawing-room floor (for two other families shared
+Frogmore's roof with us) had begun to sing, and had continued her
+performances till midnight; but I found my commiseration wasted, for
+she said that it had soothed her, which was considerably more than
+it had done me. After breakfast--which was late, on account of Aunt's
+health--I proposed a stroll on the Promenade, or an inspection of the
+tennis courts. "Bless my soul!" cried Auntie, "a person in my state
+of health does not go to places all over promenades and tennis courts.
+You won't find any such things at a nice quiet resort like Flatsands."
+I felt a little dashed, but replied "that perhaps she was right,
+and that it was a nice change to be without tennis; and that, as to
+promenades, they were quite superfluous where there was a pier, and
+a good band." "A pier, child!" she screamed. "You won't find any such
+abominations as piers here, or German bands either. Do you think that
+_I_ should come anywhere where there was a pier?" I felt the smile
+on my face becoming fixed, but I mastered my feelings sufficiently to
+murmur something about bathing before lunch.
+
+"You can't bathe here," snapped Aunt--"they don't allow it. The shore
+is too dangerous. But you can come out with me, if you like, to the
+tradespeople--I see my bath-chair coming along the road."
+
+And that, _Mr. Punch_, is how I spent my fortnight at Flatsands.
+Walking by the side of my Aunt's chair, and giving orders to the
+tradespeople in the morning; walking beside the same chair and blowing
+up the tradespeople for not having carried out the orders, in the
+afternoon; sitting in a hot room from five to nine o'clock, then lying
+awake till midnight, listening to the drawing-room young lady singing
+Italian and German songs out of tune, and with an English accent.
+
+Three things only occurred to in any way vary the monotony of my
+existence. The first was the arrival of the singing young lady's
+brother. He was seventeen, and his lungs were as thick as his boots.
+He tobogganed down-stairs on a tea-tray the first day he arrived; the
+second day he passed me in the hall and asked, with a grin, "if I
+was one of the mummies in this old mausoleum?" the third day he left,
+saying that the place was "too jolly beastly slow" for him. The second
+event was the sudden extraordinary mania that Aunt (did I tell you
+she was rich?) took for the singing lady. I discovered, much to my
+chagrin, I must say, that often, instead of going to bed at nine, as
+I believed she did, she used to ensconce herself in the drawing-room,
+and there sit and listen to indifferent music till all hours. It was
+this second event which brought about the third excitement. For having
+been a little imprudent one night, in the matter of "night-caps," or
+careless as to draughts, my Aunt was taken seriously ill. At least she
+chose to think herself so, though I now have vague suspicions that the
+singing lady knew more about it all than she cared to tell. All I know
+is that the doctor was sent for, and that, after a long confab in the
+sick room, he came to me and ordered my immediate return home. "Your
+poor Aunt requires perfect quiet," he said.
+
+Having no choice in the matter, I packed my boxes; not exactly with
+reluctance, but still with an uncomfortable feeling of being
+wanted out of the way. Aunt's last words to me rather confirmed my
+suspicions. "Ah! you are off, are you? Well, I may pull through this
+time--I think I feel better already." Then, with a pecking kiss, and
+an inaudible remark anent the ingratitude of relations, she dismissed
+me. As I left the house I distinctly heard that singing creature run
+up-stairs and into Aunt's room.
+
+On the way back to town I decided that she (Aunt I mean) was
+right--relations are _disgustingly_ ungrateful.
+
+Yours, much hurt,
+
+THE ODD GIRL OUT.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+TO THE CHAMPION (CRICKET) COUNTY.
+
+  _"Skilful Surrey's sage commands."_
+    There is a cue from WALTER SCOTT!
+  (_Not_ Surrey's "WALTER.") _Punch_ claps hands,
+    And sings out, "Bravo, SHUTER'S Lot!"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+THEATRICAL PROBABILITIES.
+
+New pieces by HENRY AUTHOR JONES, author of _Judah, The Deacon,
+&c.:--The Archbishop; The Salvationist, or Boothiful for Ever! The
+Rural Dean_ (a pastoral play); _The Chorister_, a stirring drama,
+showing how a Chorister struggled with his conscience. Of course the
+Rev. Mr. WILLARD will have the principal part in each piece. Then
+there will be special nights for the Ministers of all denominations.
+There will be a _Matinée_ of _Precedence_, to which Cardinal MANNING
+and all his clergy will be invited. After the play is over, the Right
+Reverend Dr. WILLARD will preach a sermon to the Cardinal, on his
+duties generally.
+
+As long as only the orthodox witness these performances all will go
+well. But what a first night that will be when the Right Reverend Dr.
+WILLARD and the Reverend HENRY AUTHOR JONES find that some play has
+been produced in the presence of an audience composed entirely of
+Dissenters! _Absit omen!_ This may never happen if only serious
+persons in orders, or rather with orders, are admitted.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+---> NOTICE.--Rejected Communications or Contributions, whether MS.,
+Printed Matter, Drawings, or Pictures of any description, will in no
+case be returned, not even when accompanied by a Stamped and Addressed
+Envelope, Cover, or Wrapper. To this rule there will be no exception.
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Punch, or the London Charivari, Vol.
+99, August 30, 1890., by Various
+
+*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 12378 ***
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+<div>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 12378 ***</div>
+
+<h1>PUNCH,<br />
+OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.</h1>
+<h2>Vol. 99.</h2>
+<hr class="full" />
+<h2>August 30, 1890.</h2>
+<hr class="full" />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="page97" id="page97"></a>[pg
+97]</span>
+<h3>"WHY NOT LIVE OUT OF LONDON?"</h3>
+<div class="figleft" style="width:20%;"><a href=
+"images/097.png"><img width="100%" src="images/097.png" alt=
+"owl and person" /></a></div>
+<blockquote>
+<p>SIR,&mdash;Capital subject recently started <i>Daily
+Telegraph</i>, with the above title. Just what I've been saying to
+my wife for years past. "Why don't <i>you and the family</i> live
+out of London," I have asked. And she has invariably replied, "Oh,
+yes, and what would <i>you</i> be doing in London?" I impress upon
+her that being the "bread-winner" (beautiful word, this!) my duty
+is to be on the spot where the bread is won. I prove to her, in
+figures, that it is much cheaper for her and the family to live out
+of town, and for me to come down and see them, occasionally. Isn't
+it cheaper for one to go to a theatre than four? Well, this applies
+everywhere all round. With my Club and a good room I could get on
+very well and very reasonably in London, and in the country my wife
+and family <i>would positively save enormously</i> by my absence,
+<i>as only the necessaries of life would be required</i>. Dressing
+would be next to nothing, so to speak, and they'd be out of reach
+of the temptations which London offers to those who love theatre
+entertainments, lunches at pastrycooks', shows, and shopping. Yes,
+emphatically, I repeat, "Why not live out of London?" <i>But she
+won't.</i></p>
+<p class="author">Yours,&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;ONE IN
+A THOUSAND.</p>
+<hr class="short" />
+<p>SIR,&mdash;"Why not live out of London?" Of course. I <i>do</i>
+live "out of London," and make a precious good living too out of
+London. My friends the Butcher, the Baker, the Greengrocer (not a
+very green grocer either), the Tailor, the Shoemaker, &amp;c.,
+&amp;c., all say the same as</p>
+<p class="center">Yours cheerily,</p>
+<p class="author">CHARLES CHEDDAR <i>(Cheesemonger).</i></p>
+<hr class="short" />
+<p>SIR,&mdash;I only wish everybody I don't want to see <i>in</i>
+London would live <i>out of it</i>. What a thrice blessed time
+August would be then! Though indeed I infinitely appreciate small
+mercies <i>now</i>. At all events, most people are away, my Club is
+not closed, and I can enjoy myself pretty
+thoroughly.&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;
+Yours,</p>
+<p class="center"><i>Elbow Room
+Club.</i>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;BEAU
+WINDER.</p>
+<hr class="short" />
+<p>SIR,&mdash;"Why not live out of London?" <i>Because one
+can't.</i> Out of London there is only "existence." Is life worth
+living anywhere except in London&mdash;and Paris; if you happen to
+be there? No, no; those who like living "out of London," had better
+not live at all.</p>
+<p class="center">
+Yours,&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;HIPPY
+CURE.</p>
+</blockquote>
+<hr />
+<h3>MR. PUNCH'S DICTIONARY OF PHRASES.</h3>
+<p class="center">PRIVATE THEATRICALS.</p>
+<p>"<i>Tisn't a part that I</i> feel, <i>and I fear I shall make a
+failure;" i.e.,</i> "Easy as be blowed, but <i>I</i>'m thrown away
+upon it."</p>
+<p class="center">TRADE EMBELLISHMENTS.</p>
+<p>"<i>The Ching-Twangs Central China Tea Company's selected growth
+of Early Green Leaf Spring Pickings;" i.e.,</i> "A damaged cargo
+and last year's rotten sweepings, mingled with chipped broom, dried
+cabbage, and other equally suitable and inviting ingredients."</p>
+<p class="center">AT LUNCHEON.</p>
+<p>"<i>No more, indeed, really;" i.e.,</i> "Had nothing to
+eat&mdash;but more of <i>that</i> stuff? No, thank you."</p>
+<p class="center">ELECTIONEERING.</p>
+<p>"<i>The Leaders to whom the Nation owes its recent period of
+prosperity": i.e.,</i> "Gentlemen who have unavoidably remained in
+Office during the revival of Trade."</p>
+<p>"<i>Having every personal respect for my opponent;" i.e.,</i> "I
+now proceed to blacken his political character."</p>
+<p class="center">IN THE SMOKING-ROOM.</p>
+<p>"<i>You know I always hate long arguments;" i.e.,</i> "Don't
+deprive me of my pet diversion."</p>
+<p>"<i>No; I don't exactly see what you mean;" i.e.,</i>
+"<i>You</i> don't; but the admission on my part looks candid."</p>
+<p>"<i>My dear fellow, ask</i> anyone <i>who really knows
+anything;" i.e.</i> "You appear to live among a half-educated set
+of local faddists."</p>
+<hr />
+<h2>'ARRY ON 'ARRISON AND THE GLORIOUS TWELFTH.</h2>
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>DEAR CHARLIE,&mdash;No Parry for me, mate, not this season
+leastways&mdash;wus luck!</p>
+<p>At the shop I'm employed in at present, the hands has all
+bloomin' well struck.</p>
+<p>It's hupset all our 'olidays, CHARLIE, and as to my chance of a
+rise</p>
+<p>Wot do <i>you</i> think, old pal? I'm fair flummoxed, and
+singing, <i>Oh, what a surprise!</i></p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>These Strikes is becoming rare noosances, dashed if they ain't,
+dear old boy.</p>
+<p>They're all over the shop, like Miss Z&AElig;O, wot street-kids
+seems so to enjoy.</p>
+<p>Mugs' game! They'll soon find as the Marsters ain't goin' to be
+worried and welched,</p>
+<p>And when they rob coves of their 'olidays, 'ang it, they ought
+to be squelched.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>'Owsomever, I'm mucked, that's a moral. This doosid dead-set
+against Wealth</p>
+<p>Is a sign o' the times as looks orkud, and bad for the national
+'ealth.</p>
+<p>There ain't nothink the nobs is fair nuts on but wot these 'ere
+bellerers ban.</p>
+<p>Wy, they're down upon Sport, now, a pelter. Perposterous, ain't
+it, old man?</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Bin a reading FRED 'ARRISON'S kibosh along o' "The Feast of St.
+Grouse,"</p>
+<p>On the "Glorious Twelfth," as he calls it; wen swells is fair
+shut of the 'Ouse,</p>
+<p>Its Obstruction, and similar 'orrors, in course they hikes off
+to the Moors.</p>
+<p>Small blame to 'em, CHARLIE, small blame to 'em, spite of the
+prigs and the boors!</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Yet this 'ARRISON he sets <i>his</i> back up. Dry smug as can't
+'andle a gun,</p>
+<p>I'll bet Marlboro' 'Ouse to a broomstick, and ain't got no
+notion of Fun.</p>
+<p>"Loves the Moors much too well for to carry one;" that's wot
+<i>he</i> says, sour old sap</p>
+<p>Bet my boots as he can't 'it a 'aystack at twenty yards
+rise&mdash;eh, old chap?</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p><i>Him</i> sweet on the heather, my pippin, or partial to
+feather and fur,</p>
+<p>So long as yer never <i>kills</i> nothink? Sech tommy-rot gives
+me the spur.</p>
+<p>Yah! Scenery's all very proper, but where is the genuine pot</p>
+<p>Who'd pad the 'oof over the Moors, if it weren't for the things
+to be shot?</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>"This swagger about killing birds is mere cant," sez this
+wobbling old wag.</p>
+<p>From Arran he'd tramp to Dunrobin without the least chance of a
+bag!</p>
+<p>"Peaceful hills," that's his patter, my pippin; no gillies, no
+luncheons, no game!</p>
+<p>Wy, he ought to be tossed in a blanket; it fills a true Briton
+with shame.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>No Moors for yours truly, wus luck! It won't run to it, CHARLIE,
+this round;</p>
+<p>But give me my gun, and a chance, and I'll be in the swim, I'll
+be bound.</p>
+<p>I did 'ave a turn some years back, though I only went out with
+'em once,</p>
+<p>And I shot a bit wild, as was likely, fust off, though yer
+<i>may</i>n't be a dunce.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>My rig out was a picter they told me&mdash;deer-stalker and
+knickers O.K.&mdash;</p>
+<p>"BRIGGS, Junior," a lobsculler called me; I wasn't quite fly to
+his lay;</p>
+<p>But BRIGGS or no BRIGGS I shaped spiffin, in
+mustard-and-mud-colour checks.</p>
+<p>Ah! them Moors is the spots for cold Irish, and gives yer the
+primest of pecks.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Talk of sandwiges, CHARLIE, oh scissors, I'd soon ha' cleaned
+out Charing Cross,</p>
+<p>With St. Pancrust and Ludgit chucked in; fairly hopened the eye
+of the boss;</p>
+<p>Him as rented the shootings, yer know, big dry-salter in Thames
+Street, bit warm</p>
+<p>In his langwige occasional, CHARLIE, but 'arty and reglar good
+form.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Swells will pal in most anywhere now on the chance of a gratis
+Big Shoot,</p>
+<p>And there <i>wos</i> some Swells with hus, I tell yer, I felt on
+the good gay galoot,</p>
+<p>But I fancy I got jest a morsel screwdnoodleous late in the
+day,</p>
+<p>For I peppered a bloke in the breeks; he swore bad, but 'twas
+only his play.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Bagged a brace and a arf, I did, CHARLIE; not bad for a novice
+like me.</p>
+<p>Jest a bit blown about the fust two; wanted gathering up like,
+yer see.</p>
+<p>A bird do look best with his 'ed on, dear boy, as a matter of
+taste;</p>
+<p>And the gillies got jest a mite scoffy along of my natural
+'aste.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Never arsked me no more, for some reason. But wot I would say is
+this here,</p>
+<p>'ARRY's bin in this boat in his time, as in every prime lark
+pooty near,</p>
+<p>And when 'ARRISON talks blooming bunkum, with hadjectives spicy
+and strong,</p>
+<p>About Sport being stupid, and noisy, and vulgar; wy, 'ARRISON'S
+wrong!</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p><i>He</i> would rather shoot broken-down cab-horses,&mdash;so
+the mug tells us&mdash;than birds.</p>
+<p>Well, they're more in his line very likely; that means, in his
+own chosen words,</p>
+<p>He's more fit for a hammytoor knacker than for that great boast
+of our land,</p>
+<p>A true British Sportsman! Great Scott! It's a taste as I
+<i>carnt</i> understand.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Fact is this here FRED is a Demmycrat, Positivist, and all
+that.</p>
+<p>There's the nick o' the matter, the reason of all this
+un-English wild chat.</p>
+<p>He is down on the Aristos, CHARLIE, this 'ARRISON is. It's the
+Court</p>
+<p>And the pick o' the Peerage Sport nobbles, and that's wy he
+sputters at Sport.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>All a part of the game, dear old pal, the dead-set at the noble
+and rich.</p>
+<p>"Smart people" are "Sports," mostly always, and 'ARRISON slates
+them as sich.</p>
+<p>'Ates killing of "beautiful creatures," and spiling "the Tummel
+in spate"</p>
+<p>With "drives," champagne luncheons, and gillies? <i>That</i>'s
+not wot sich slab-dabbers 'ate.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>It's "Privileged Classes," my pippin, they loathes. Yer can't
+own a big Moor,</p>
+<p>Or even rent one like my dry-salter friend, if yer 'umble and
+poor.</p>
+<p>Don't 'ARRISON never <i>eat</i> grouse? Ah, you bet, much as
+ever he'll carry.</p>
+<p>There's "poz" for a Posit'vist, mate, there's 'ARRISON kiboshed
+by 'ARRY.</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+<hr />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="page98" id="page98"></a>[pg
+98]</span>
+<div class="figcenter" style="width:100%;">
+<h2>OUR YOTTING YORICK.</h2>
+<a href="images/098-1.png"><img width="100%" src="images/098-1.png"
+alt="OUR YOTTING YORICK." /></a></div>
+<div class="figleft" style="width:50%;"><a href=
+"images/098-2.png"><img width="100%" src="images/098-2.png" alt=
+"YOTTING JOTTINGS." /></a>
+<h3>YOTTING JOTTINGS.</h3>
+</div>
+<p>Oh dear! oh dear! What perils I have been through! You'll see me
+again shortly; but there have been <i>momentums</i> in my career
+when I said to myself, "Shall I ever <i>aller</i> out of this
+alive!" I escaped the Petersburg police; they punched out your
+Cartoon, and all the lines about the Czar and the Jews; that's why
+I was so persecuted, and why I was watched. I wish to Heaven you
+wouldn't have Cartoons about Czars and Jews just when I'm at
+Peterborough, I mean Petersburg; same name, different place. But
+there, that's all over now, and <i>jamais</i> will I go and put
+myself within the clutches of the Russian Bear again. The midnight
+sun must do without <i>me</i> in future. I send you a sketch I made
+of a gargle&mdash;I think that's the name&mdash;on a church-door in
+Lapland. Isn't it really droll? You're always bothering me for
+something droll, and <i>now you've got it</i>. Then, <i>Mr.
+Punch</i>, riding a reindeer at half-a-crown an hour. Then here are
+the little Lapps offering our sailors a lap of liquor; and I said
+to myself, "One touch of Nature," which struck me as just the very
+motto for the picture. I roared with laughter at it. "This'll do
+for 'em at home," I said, and so here it is. And look at the "Lapps
+of Luxury"! You know that "Lap of Luxury" is a proverbial phrase;
+and, as you told me to make some comic sketches of the manners and
+customs of the country, why, I've done so; and, if they ain't
+funny, I don't know what humour is. <i>Voil&agrave;!</i></p>
+<p>But you really must not expect me to grimace and buffoon. You
+must take me <i>seriatim</i> or not at all. I can't stand on my
+head to sketch. I can't do it. I nearly <i>did</i> do it, though,
+for when I had my sketching-book in my hand on board, the
+spanker-boom, or some such thing, came over suddenly and hit me
+such a whack on the head, that for two minutes I lay insensible,
+and thought I should never become sensible again. Rightly is it
+called "spanker-boom,"&mdash;that is if it <i>is</i> called so, or
+some name very like it,&mdash;for I never got such a whack on the
+head in all my life before. I hear the Booming still in my
+ears.</p>
+<p>You can't expect a fellow to be funny, however funny he may
+<i>feel</i> (and I <i>did</i> feel uncommonly funny, you may take
+your oath!), under such circumstances. However, as the song says,
+"Home once more," and many a yarn shall I have to tell when I
+gather myself round the fireside, pipe all hands for grog, and sing
+you an old Norse song with real humour in it&mdash;though I dare
+say <i>you'll</i> say you don't see it&mdash;and so no more
+<i>&agrave; pr&eacute;sent</i> from yours seasickly (I am quite
+well, but I mean I'm sick of the sea),</p>
+<p class="author">FLOTSAM, Y.A.</p>
+<hr />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="page99" id="page99"></a>[pg
+99]</span>
+<h2>JOURNAL OF A ROLLING STONE.</h2>
+<h4>FIFTH ENTRY.</h4>
+<p>Curious thing that to-day&mdash;after disappointment of failure
+for the Bar&mdash;letter comes from President of my old College,
+asking me "if I would accept a nice Tutorship for a time?" If so,
+"I had better come down and talk to him about it."</p>
+<p>Decided a little time ago not to try "Scholastic
+Profession"&mdash;thought it would try <i>me</i> too much. Feel
+tempted now. <i>Query</i>&mdash;am I losing my old pluck? In
+consequence of my new "pluck,"&mdash;in the Bar Exam?</p>
+<p>"Um!" remarks the President (I <i>have</i> run down and got a
+vacant bed-room in College). "Glad to see you. Oh, yes, about that
+tutorship. Um, um! The family live in Somerset." He mentions the
+county apologetically, as if he expected me to reply&mdash;"Oh,
+Somerset! Couldn't dream of going <i>there</i>. Not very
+particular, but must have a place within ten miles of Charing
+Cross." As I don't object to Somerset, at least audibly, he goes on
+more cheerfully&mdash;</p>
+<p>"Boy doesn't want to be taught much, so perhaps, it would suit
+you."&mdash;(<i>Query</i>&mdash;is this insulting?)&mdash;"He wants
+a companion more&mdash;somebody to keep him steady, have a good
+influence and all that, and give him a little classics and so on
+for about an hour a day."</p>
+<p>It did not sound as bad as I expected.</p>
+<p>"Rich people&mdash;um&mdash;merchants at Bristol, I think. Not
+very cultivated, though." Here President pauses again, and looks as
+if he would not be at all astonished if I rose from my chair, put
+on my hat, and said, "Not very cultivated! That won't suit
+<i>me</i>! You see how tremendously cultivated <i>I</i> am." But I
+don't, and he proceeds calmly to another head of his discourse.</p>
+<p>"They haven't mentioned terms, but I'm sure they will be
+satisfactory&mdash;give you what you ask, in fact." (Rather a nice
+trait in their character, this.)&mdash;"Now, will
+you&mdash;um&mdash;take it? They want somebody at once."</p>
+<p>"Yes," I reply; "I'll go and see how I fancy it. Have they got a
+billiard-table, do you happen to know?"</p>
+<p>The President says, "he doesn't know anything about
+<i>that</i>," and looks a little surprised, as if I had proposed a
+game of skittles.</p>
+<p>On way down (next day) I feel rather like a Governess going to
+her first situation. Get to house late. Too dark to see what it's
+like. Have to drive up in a village fly.
+<i>Query</i>&mdash;Oughtn't they to have sent their carriage for
+me?</p>
+<p>My reception is peculiar. A stout, masculine-looking female with
+a strident voice, is presumably Mrs. BRISTOL MERCHANT.</p>
+<p>Sends me up to my bed-room as if I were my own luggage.
+Evidently very "uncultivated."</p>
+<p>In my bed-room. Above are the sounds of a small pandemonium,
+apparently. Stamping, falling, shouting, bumping, crying. What a
+lot of them there must be!</p>
+<p>There are! At supper&mdash;they appear to have early dinners,
+which I detest&mdash;three boys and one girl present, as a sample.
+Eldest a youth about ten, who puts out his tongue at me, when he
+thinks I'm not looking, and kicks his brothers beneath the table to
+make them cry, which they do. I begin to wonder when my real pupil
+will appear.</p>
+<p>Governess talks to me as if I were a brother professional.
+<i>Query&mdash;infra dig</i>. again?</p>
+<p>Children, being forbidden to talk in anything but French at
+meals, say nothing at all; at the end I am astounded at
+Materfamilias catching hold of the boy of ten, and bringing him
+round to me, with the remark,&mdash;</p>
+<p>"Perhaps you'd like to talk to ERNIE about lessons."</p>
+<p>Heavens! This nursery fledgling to be my pupil! And I am to be
+his "companion"! Fledgling, while standing in front of me for
+inspection, has the audacity to stretch out his leg, and trip up a
+little sister who is passing. Howls ensue.</p>
+<p>A nicely-mannered youth!</p>
+<p>"You will have to behave yourself with <i>me</i>, young man!" I
+warn him, in a tone which ought to abash him, but doesn't in the
+least.</p>
+<p>"Ah, but perhaps you won't stay here long," is his rather able
+rejoinder. "Our Governesses never&mdash;"</p>
+<p>"ERNIE!" shrieks his mother, threateningly. ERNIE stops; and I
+have time to regret my folly in not inquiring of the President the
+precise age of my promising disciple, very likely President didn't
+know himself.</p>
+<p>The other boys who were at supper are now presented to me. One
+is about eight, the other not more than six.</p>
+<p>"These are HERBIE and JACK," says their mother, who ought to
+know. Thank Heaven, <i>they</i> are not my pupils!</p>
+<p>Mrs. BRISTOL MERCHANT horrifies me by saying&mdash;</p>
+<p>"I thought it would be so nice, when you were teaching ERNIE,
+<i>if</i> HERBIE <i>and</i> JACK <i>could be taught too!</i> And
+after lessons you will be able to take them such nice long walks in
+the neighbourhood! It's really very pretty country, Mr.&mdash;I
+forget your name."</p>
+<p>Oh, certainly, the President was quite right. She <i>is</i> very
+uncultivated. That ever I was born to cultivate her&mdash;or her
+precious offspring! But was I? Time must show.</p>
+<div class="figcenter" style="width:40%;"><a href=
+"images/099.png"><img width="100%" src="images/099.png" alt=
+"SARTORIAL EUPHUISMS." /></a>
+<h3>SARTORIAL EUPHUISMS.</h3>
+<p>"MEASUREMENTS ABOUT THE SAME AS THEY USED TO BE, SNIPPE?"</p>
+<p>"YES, SIR. CHEST A TRIFLE <i>LOWER DOWN</i>, SIR, THAT'S
+ALL!"</p>
+</div>
+<hr />
+<h2>AN ARGUMENTUM AD POCKETUM.</h2>
+<blockquote>
+<p>[The Rev. B. MEREDYTH-KITSON called the attention of the London
+School Board to the action of Mr. MONTAGU WILLIAMS, who, being
+appealed to by "a respectable-looking woman" for the remission of a
+fine of five shillings imposed upon her husband for neglecting to
+send their children to school, gave her five shillings out of the
+poor-box to pay it, on finding that she had nine children, the
+eldest fifteen years, the youngest five months, a husband out of
+work, and "no boots for her children to go to school in." The Rev.
+STEWART HEADLAM said that in East London they suffered a good deal
+through the decisions of Mr. MONTAGU WILLIAMS, who constantly paid
+the fines from the poor-box, or out of his own pocket!]</p>
+</blockquote>
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Oh, MONTAGU, this conduct is nefarious!</p>
+<p class="i2"><i>You</i> are, indeed, a pretty Magistrate!</p>
+<p>Better the judgments, generous, if precarious,</p>
+<p class="i2">Of the old Cadi at an Eastern gate.</p>
+<p>No wonder that you madden MEREDTTH-KITSON,</p>
+<p class="i2">And stir the bitter bile of STEWART HEADLAM.</p>
+<p>When Justice, School-Board ruling simply "sits on,"</p>
+<p class="i2">School-Boards become a mere annexe
+of&mdash;Bedlam!</p>
+<p>Nine children! Husband out of work! No boots!</p>
+<p class="i2">And do you really think that <i>these</i> are
+reasons</p>
+<p>For fine-remission? This strikes at the roots</p>
+<p class="i2">Of Law, which ought to rule us at all seasons.</p>
+<p>Oh, how shall KITSON educate the "kids,"</p>
+<p class="i2">Or how shall HEADLAM discipline the mothers,</p>
+<p>If you, instead of doing what Law bids,</p>
+<p class="i2">Pay the poor creatures' fines and raise up
+bothers?</p>
+<p>Law, Sir, is Law, even to Magistrates,</p>
+<p class="i2">Not a mere chopping-block for maudlin charity.</p>
+<p>Fining the impecunious doubtless grates</p>
+<p class="i2">On feelings such as yours; there's some disparity</p>
+<p>'Twixt School-Board Draconism, and regard</p>
+<p class="i2">For parents penniless, and children bootless;</p>
+<p>But pedagogues&mdash;ask HEADLAM&mdash;must be hard,</p>
+<p class="i2">Or pedagogy's purposes are fruitless.</p>
+<p>Poor creatures? Humph! Compassion's mighty fine;</p>
+<p class="i2">A gentle feeling, who would wish to shock it?</p>
+<p>But husbands out of work with children nine,</p>
+<p class="i2">Should pay their fines themselves&mdash;not from
+<i>your</i> pocket.</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+<hr />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="page100" id="page100"></a>[pg
+100]</span>
+<h3>KEPT IN TOWN.&mdash;A Lament.</h3>
+<div class="figright" style="width:20%;"><a href=
+"images/100.png"><img width="100%" src="images/100.png" alt=
+"KEPT IN TOWN." /></a></div>
+<div class="poem" style="margin-left:5%">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>The Season's ended; in the Park the vehicles are far and
+few,</p>
+<p>And down the lately-crowded Row one horseman canters on a
+screw</p>
+<p>By stacks of unperceptive chairs; the turf is burnt, the leaves
+are brown,</p>
+<p>stagnant sultriness prevails&mdash;the very air's gone out of
+town!</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Belgravia's drawn her blinds, and let her window-boxes run to
+seed;</p>
+<p>Street-urchins play in porticoes&mdash;no powdered menial there
+to heed;</p>
+<p>Now fainter grows the lumbering roll of luggage-cumbered
+omnibus:</p>
+<p>Bayswater's children all are off upon their annual exodus.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>On every hoarding posters flaunt the charms of peak, and loch,
+and sea,</p>
+<p>To madden those unfortunates who have to stay in town&mdash;like
+me!</p>
+<p>Gone are the inconsiderate friends who tell one airily, "They're
+off!"</p>
+<p>And ask "what <i>you</i> propose to do&mdash;yacht, shoot, or
+fish, or walk, or golf?"</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>On many a door which opened wide in welcome but the other
+day,</p>
+<p>The knocker basks in calm repose&mdash;conscious "the family's
+away."</p>
+<p>I scan the windows&mdash;half in hope I may some friendly face
+detect&mdash;</p>
+<p>To meet their blank brown-papered stare, depressing as the cut
+direct!</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>I pass the house where She is not, to feel an unfamiliar
+chill;</p>
+<p>That door is disenchanted now, that number powerless to
+thrill!</p>
+<p>'Twas there, in yonder balcony, that last July she used to
+stand;</p>
+<p>Upon some balcony, more blest, she's leaning now, in
+Switzerland,</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Her eyes upon rose-tinted peaks&mdash;but no, of sense I 'm
+quite bereft!</p>
+<p>The hour is full early yet, and <i>table d h&ocirc;te</i> she'll
+scarce have left.</p>
+<p>Some happy neighbour's handing her the salad&mdash;But I'll
+move, I think;</p>
+<p>I see a grim caretaker's eye regard me through the shutter's
+chink.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Yes, I'll away,&mdash;no longer be the sport of sentiment
+forlorn,</p>
+<p>But scale the heights of Primrose Hill, pretending it's the
+Matterhorn;</p>
+<p>Or hie me through the dusk to sit beside the shimmering
+Serpentine,</p>
+<p>And, with a little make-believe, imagine I am up the Rhine.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Alas! the poor device, I know, my restlessness will ne'er
+assuage:</p>
+<p>Still Fanny beats, with pinions clipped, the wires of its
+Cockney cage!</p>
+<p>No inch of turf to prisoned larks can represent the boundless
+moor;</p>
+<p>And neither Hyde nor Regent's Park suggests a Continental
+Tour!</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+<hr />
+<h2>VOCES POPULI.</h2>
+<h4>IN AN OMNIBUS.</h4>
+<p class="bracket"><i>The majority of the inside passengers, as usual, sit in
+solemn silence, and gaze past their opposite neighbours into
+vacancy. A couple of Matrons converse in wheezy whispers.</i></p>
+<p><i>First Matron.</i> Well, I must say a bus is pleasanter riding
+than what they used to be not many years back, and then so much
+cheaper, too. Why, you can go all the way right from here to Mile
+End Road for threepence!</p>
+<p><i>Second Matron.</i> What, all that way for
+threepence&mdash;(<i>with an impulse of vague humanity</i>.) The
+<i>poor</i> 'orses!</p>
+<p><i>First Matron.</i> Ah, well, my dear, it's Competition, you
+know,&mdash;it don't do to think too much of it.</p>
+<p><i>Conductor (stopping the bus).</i> Orchard Street, Lady.</p>
+<p><i>To</i> Second Matron, <i>who had desired to be put down
+there.</i></p>
+<p><i>Second Matron (to</i> Conductor). Just move on a few doors
+further, opposite the boot-shop. (<i>To</i> First Matron.) It will
+save us walking.</p>
+<p><i>Conductor.</i> Cert'inly, Mum, we'll drive in and wait while
+you 're tryin' 'em on, if you like&mdash;<i>we</i> ain't in no
+'urry!</p>
+<p><i>The</i> Matrons <i>get out, and their places are taken by two
+young girls, who are in the middle of a conversation of thrilling
+interest.</i></p>
+<p><i>First Girl.</i> I never liked her myself&mdash;ever since the
+way she behaved at his Mother's that Sunday.</p>
+<p><i>Second Girl.</i> How <i>did</i> she behave?</p>
+<p class="bracket"><i>[A faint curiosity is discernible amongst the other
+passengers to learn how she&mdash;whoever she is&mdash;behaved that
+Sunday.</i></p>
+<p>First Girl. Why, it was you <i>told</i> me! <i>You</i> remember.
+That night JOE let out about her and the automatic scent
+fountain.</p>
+<p><i>Second Girl.</i> Oh, yes, I remember now. <i>(General
+disappointment. )</i> I couldn't help laughing myself. Joe didn't
+ought to have told&mdash;but she needn't have got into such a state
+over it, <i>need</i> she?</p>
+<p><i>First Girl,</i> That was ELIZA all over. If GEORGE had been
+sensible, he'd have broken it off then and there&mdash;but no, he
+wouldn't hear a word against her, not at that time&mdash;it was the
+button-hook opened <i>his</i> eyes!</p>
+<p class="bracket"><i>[The other passengers strive to dissemble a frantic desire to
+know how and why this delicate operation was performed.</i></p>
+<p><i>Second Girl (mysteriously).</i> And enough too! But what put GEORGE off most
+was her keeping that bag so quiet.</p>
+<p class="bracket"><i>[The general imagination is once more stirred to its depths
+by this mysterious allusion.</i></p>
+<p><i>First Girl.</i> Yes, he did feel that, I know, he used to
+come and go on about it to me by the hour together. "I shouldn't
+have minded so much," he told me over and over again, with the
+tears standing in his eyes,&mdash;"if it hadn't been that the
+bottles was all silver-mounted!"</p>
+<p><i>Second Girl.</i> Silver-mounted? I never heard of <i>that</i>
+before&mdash;no wonder he felt hurt!</p>
+<p><i>First Girl (impressively).</i> Silver tops to everyone of
+them&mdash;and that girl to turn round as she did, and her with an
+Uncle in the oil and colour line, too&mdash;it nearly broke
+GEORGE'S 'art!</p>
+<p><i>Second Girl</i>. He's such a one to take on about
+things&mdash;but, as I said to him, "GEORGE," I says, "You must
+remember it might have been worse. Suppose you'd been married to
+that girl, and <i>then</i> found out about ALF and the Jubilee
+sixpence&mdash;how would <i>that</i> have been?"</p>
+<p><i>First Girl (unconsciously acting as the mouth-piece of the
+other passengers).</i> And what did he say to <i>that?</i></p>
+<p><i>Second Girl.</i> Oh, nothing&mdash;there was nothing he
+<i>could</i> say, but I could see he was struck. She behaved very
+mean to the last&mdash;she wouldn't send back the German
+concertina.</p>
+<p><i>First Girl.</i> You don't say so! Well, I wouldn't have
+thought that of her, bad as she is.</p>
+<p><i>Second Girl.</i> No, she stuck to it that it wasn't like a
+regular present, being got through a grocer, and as she couldn't
+send him back the tea, being drunk,&mdash;but did you hear how she
+treated EMMA over the crinoline 'at she got for her?</p>
+<p><i>First Girl (to the immense relief of the rest).</i> No, what
+was that?</p>
+<p><i>Second Girl.</i> Well, I had it from EMMA her own self. ELIZA
+wrote up to her and says, in a postscript like,&mdash;Why, this is
+Tottenham Court Road, I get out here. Good-bye, dear, I must tell
+you the rest another day.</p>
+<p class="bracket"><i>[Gets out, leaving the tantalised audience inconsolable, and
+longing for courage to question her companion as to the precise
+details of</i> ELIZA'S <i>heartless behaviour to</i> GEORGE. <i>The
+companion, however, relapses into a stony reserve. Enter a</i>
+Chatty Old Gentleman <i>who has no secrets from anybody, and of
+course selects as the first recipient of his confidence the one
+person who hates to be talked to in an omnibus.</i></p>
+<p><i>The Chatty O.G.</i> I've just been having a talk with the
+policeman at the corner there&mdash;what do you think I said to
+him?</p>
+<p><i>His Opposite Neighbour.</i> I&mdash;I really don't know.</p>
+<p><i>The C.O.G.</i> Well, I told him he was a rich man compared
+to me. He said, "I only get thirty shillings a week, Sir." "Ah," I
+said, "but look at your expenses, compared to mine. What would
+<i>you</i> do if you had to spend eight hundred a year on your
+children's education? I spend that&mdash;every penny of it,
+Sir.</p>
+<p><i>His Opp. N. (utterly uninterested).</i> Do you
+indeed?&mdash;dear me!</p>
+<p><i>C.O.G.</i> Not that I grudge it&mdash;a good education is a
+fortune in itself, and as I've always told my boys, they must make
+the best of it, for it's all they'll get. They're good enough lads,
+but I've had a deal of trouble with them one way and
+another&mdash;a <i>deal</i> of trouble. <i>(Pauses for some
+expression of sympathy&mdash;which does not come&mdash;and he
+continues:)</i> There are my two eldest sons&mdash;what must they
+do but fall in love with the same lady&mdash;the same lady. Sir!
+<i>(No one seems to care much for these domestic
+revelations&mdash;possibly because they are too obviously addressed
+to the general ear.)</i> And, to make matters worse, she was a
+married woman&mdash;<i>(his principal hearer looks another way
+uneasily)</i>&mdash;the wife of a godson of mine, which made it all
+the more awkward, y'know. (His Opposite Neighbour <i>giving no
+sign, the</i> C. O. G. <i>tries one Passenger after another.)</i>
+Well, I went to him&mdash;(here he fixes an old Lady, who
+immediately passes up coppers out of her glove to the
+Conductor)&mdash;went to him, and said&mdash;<i>(addressing a
+smartly dressed young Lady with a parcel, who giggles)</i>&mdash;I
+said, "You're a man of the world&mdash;so am I. Don't you take any
+notice," I told him&mdash;<i>(this to a callow young man, who
+blushes)</i>&mdash;"they're a Couple of young fools," I said, "but
+you tell your dear wife from me not to mind those boys of
+mine&mdash;they'll soon get tired of it if they're only let alone."
+And so they would have, long ago, it's my belief, if they'd met
+with no encouragement&mdash;but what can <i>I</i> do&mdash;it's a
+heavy trial to a father, you know. Then there's my third
+son&mdash;he must needs go and marry&mdash;<i>(to a Lady at his
+side with a reticule, who gasps faintly)</i>&mdash;some young woman
+who dances at a Music-hall&mdash;nice daughter-in-law that for a
+man in my position, eh? I've forbidden him the house of course, and
+told his mother not to have any communication with him&mdash;but I
+know, Sir,&mdash;<i>(violently, to a Man on his other side, who
+coughs in much embarrassment)</i>&mdash;I <i>know</i> she meets him
+once a week under the eagle in Orme Square, and <i>I</i> can't stop
+her! Then I'm worried about my daughters&mdash;one of 'em gave me
+no peace till <span class="pagenum"><a name="page101" id=
+"page101"></a>[pg 101]</span> I let her have some painting
+lessons&mdash;of course, I naturally thought the drawing-master
+would be an elderly man&mdash;whereas, as things turned
+out,&mdash;</p>
+<p><i>A Quiet Man in a Corner.</i> I 'ope you told all this to the
+Policeman, Sir?</p>
+<p><i>The C.O.G. (flaming unexpectedly).</i> No, Sir, I did
+<i>not</i>. I am not in the habit&mdash;whatever <i>you</i> may
+be&mdash;of discussing my private affairs with strangers. I
+consider your remark highly impertinent, Sir.</p>
+<p class="bracket">[<i>Fumes in silence for the rest of the journey.</i></p>
+<p><i>The Young Lady with the Parcel (to her friend&mdash;for the sake
+of vindicating her gentility).</i> Oh, my dear, I do feel so funny,
+carrying a great brown-paper parcel, in a bus, too! Anyone would
+take me for a shop-girl!</p>
+<p><i>A Grim Old Lady opposite.</i> And I only hope, my dear,
+you'll never be taken for anyone less respectable.</p>
+<p class="bracket">[<i>Collapse of</i> Genteel Y. L.</p>
+<p><i>The Conductor</i>. Benk, benk! <i>(he means "Bank")</i>
+'Oborn, benk! 'Igher up there, BILL, can't you?</p>
+<p><i>A Dingy Man smoking, in a Van.</i> Want to block up the ole
+o' the road, eh? That's right!</p>
+<p><i>The Conductor (roused to personality).</i> Go 'ome, Dirty
+DICK! syme old soign, I see,&mdash;"Monkey an' Pipe!" <i>(To
+Coachman of smart brougham which is pressing rather closely
+behind.)</i> I say, old man, don't you race after my bus like
+this&mdash;you'll only tire your 'orse.</p>
+<p class="bracket"><i>[The Coachman affects not to have heard.</i></p>
+<p><i>The Conductor (addressing the brougham horse, whose head is
+almost through the door of the omnibus).</i> 'Ere, '<i>ang</i> it
+all!&mdash;step insoide, if yer want to!</p>
+<p class="bracket"><i>[Brougham falls to rear</i>&mdash;<i>triumph of</i> Conductor
+<i>as Scene closes</i>.</p>
+<hr />
+<h2>IN THE KNOW.</h2>
+<p class="center"><i>(By Mr. Punch's Own Prophet.)</i></p>
+<div class="figleft" style="width:20%;"><a href=
+"images/101.png"><img width="100%" src="images/101.png" alt=
+"IN THE KNOW." /></a></div>
+<p>Readers of this journal will be surprised to learn that I am
+penning these lines from Blancheville, which as everybody, except
+the chief of the chowder-heads, knows is the most important town of
+one of the principal departments of France. Nothing but an
+overwhelming sense of what is due to myself, to my readers, and to
+my country, would have dragged me from the Metropolis at this
+season of the year. But a distinction was offered to me, a
+distinction so unique and so dazzling that I felt that it would not
+be fair to my fellow countrymen, of all ages, and of every party,
+if I failed to take advantage of it, and thus to present to the
+envious world the proud spectacle of an Englishman honoured by the
+great French nation. I will narrate the matter as briefly as is
+consistent with my respect for accuracy, and with my contempt for
+the tapioca-brained nincompoops who snarl, and chatter, and cackle
+at me in the organ of Mr. J. Last Friday I received this
+telegram:&mdash;</p>
+<p class="author"><i>Blancheville, Friday.</i></p>
+<p>The inhabitants of Blancheville, in public meeting assembled,
+felicitate you on stupendous success of all your prophecies.
+Desiring to honour you in the name of France, the mother of
+glorious heroes, and the eldest daughter of Liberty, they have
+awarded to you the Montyon prize for virtue, and have selected you
+as <i>Rosier en perp&eacute;tuit&eacute; de Blancheville</i>, a new
+post never before held by a man. Presentation on Sunday. Come at
+once.</p>
+<p class="author">
+<i>(Signed)</i>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;CARAMEL,
+<i>Maire de Blancheville.</i></p>
+<p>I started that evening. In the course of the following day I
+reached Blancheville. The people, in their holiday attire, were
+gathered in thousands at the railway station. M. CARAMEL,
+accompanied by the <i>Pr&eacute;fet</i> and the
+<i>Sous-Pr&eacute;fet,</i> all in their tricolor sashes, was the
+first to greet me. Saluting me on both cheeks, he called upon the
+world to witness that this was indeed a great day for Blancheville.
+My escort, under the command of General Count CROUTAUPOT, then
+formed up. I mounted the gilded Car of Victory, specially provided
+for the celebration, and, amidst the plaudits of the assembled
+millions, I was drawn by a specially-selected band of <i>Enfants de
+la Patrie</i> (a sort of body-guard, composed entirely of the
+French aristocracy) to the palace, which had been prepared for my
+reception. At the banquet, in the Town Hall, the healths of the
+QUEEN and of M. CARNOT were followed by a lengthy speech, in
+English, from my brother CARAMEL (we have sworn fraternity), in
+which he declared that the centuries looked down and redazed in
+this joice, and that it was a delight for him to carry a toast to
+the illustrious visitor who had deigned to come to Blancheville. On
+the following day the ceremony took place. I transcribe and
+translate from <i>Le Petit Colporteur de Blancheville</i>, the
+chief local journal, an account of what took place.</p>
+<p>"On this day, so great and glorious for our France, it is not
+possible to refrain from tears of joy and satisfaction. We have
+made him <i>Rosier en perp&eacute;tuit&eacute; de Blancheville</i>,
+him the proudest and most sympathetic writer who has dazzled Europe
+since the great and illustrious PLUMEAU" (a local author of repute)
+"departed from us. The history of this day must be written. Let us
+essay to do it as it should be done. In the early morning twelve
+selected maidens, robed in muslin and lilies, sang the <i>Tocsin de
+la Patrie</i> outside the Palace where our guest reposed. Soon
+afterwards he himself appeared in flowing white garments, and
+showered blessings upon their heads. He descended. He entered the
+four-in-hand-teams which the <i>Maire</i> had, as a compliment to
+England, made up with a <i>char-&agrave;-banc</i> of the
+neighbourhood. Thus he was drawn to the Market Place, where some of
+our bravest veterans fired in his honour a thundering salute. The
+beautiful and admirable Madame CARAMEL then advanced to him with a
+wreath of roses in her hand. She crowned him with it, saying, 'Wear
+this for Blancheville. Nobly hast thou earned it.' With difficulty
+the illustrious author preserved his calm. A tear sparkled in his
+eye. He bent low, and in a voice choked with emotion, thanked the
+citizens of our town. Then mounting on a milk-white steed, and
+surrounded by the young men of the district, he received from the
+<i>Pr&eacute;fet</i> the Prix Montyon for virtue."</p>
+<p>The rest is too flattering. I am hastening home. The QUEEN has
+been graciously pleased to permit me to wear the Prix Montyon at
+Court. Can a man want more?</p>
+<p>Yours, in all humility,</p>
+<p class="author">LE ROSIER DE BLANCHEVILLE.</p>
+<hr />
+<h3>A PUFF AT WHITEHALL.</h3>
+<p class="center"><i>(A piece of extravagance faintly suggestive of
+a Scene from "The Critic.")</i><br />
+Lord GEORGE PUFF <i>and</i> Sir JOHN BULL <i>discovered attending a
+rehearsal of the Naval Estimates.</i></p>
+<p><i>Lord George.</i> And now I pray your particular attention,
+Sir JOHN, as this is the best thing in my play&mdash;it is a
+spectacular effect called the Summer Manoeuvres.</p>
+<p><i>Sir John.</i> And no doubt costly, Lord GEORGE?</p>
+<p><i>Lord George.</i> You are right, Sir JOHN, as you will have an
+opportunity of finding out&mdash;hereafter. But to the argument. It
+is supposed that the British Fleet is at war with, indeed, the
+British Fleet.</p>
+<p><i>Sir John.</i> A very clever idea.</p>
+<p><i>Lord George.</i> I flatter myself it is, and novel too. It is
+true that occasionally the ships comprising the British Fleet have
+run into one another in the past just as if they had been at war,
+but then they were avowedly at peace, and now they are undoubtedly
+the reverse. Do you take my meaning?</p>
+<p><i>Sir John.</i> Well, not clearly. How do you show that the
+British Fleet is at war with the British Fleet?</p>
+<p><i>Lord George.</i> Ah, there comes in my art, and I think you
+will confess I have a very pretty wit. You see I divide the British
+Fleet into two parts&mdash;one part represents the enemy and the
+other part represents itself like the House of Commons, a most
+representative body. That is clear, I hope?</p>
+<p><i>Sir John.</i> Certainly&mdash;one is the British Fleet, and
+the other is not the British Fleet. But is there no bond of
+union?</p>
+<p><i>Lord George.</i> Most assuredly there is&mdash;you pay for
+both. But, pardon me, I beg you will not further interrupt me. So,
+now that we have the two Fleets face to face, or, I should say, bow
+to starn, we proceed exactly as if there were a real quarrel
+between them. We spend money on coal, we spend money on pay, we
+spend money on ammunition. Nay, by my life, we spend money on
+everything&mdash;just as we should do if war were really declared!
+That's simple enough.</p>
+<p><i>Sir John.</i> I confess your plan <i>does</i> seem
+simple.</p>
+<p><i>Lord George.</i> And there is more behind. We are not
+satisfied with merely spending money&mdash;we learn a lesson as
+well. Come, you must confess <i>that</i> surprises you?</p>
+<p><i>Sir John.</i> Well, I admit that generally, where there is
+any spending of money, it is <i>I</i> who learn the lesson.</p>
+<p><i>Lord George.</i> Good&mdash;distinctly good! But let us be
+serious. Well, when we are carrying on a war by every means in our
+power, we fancy that one Fleet is chasing the other. They both have
+equal speed, and we give one Fleet twenty-four hours' start of the
+other, and will you believe me that, although the first follows the
+second as fast as may be from the beginning to the end of the
+manoeuvring, they never see one another! On my life&mdash;never!
+They never see the British Fleet, because it's not in sight!</p>
+<p><i>Sir John</i>. But could you not have learned all this without
+so great an expenditure of money?</p>
+<p><i>Lord George.</i> Well, no, Sir JOHN&mdash;not at the
+Admiralty!</p>
+<p><i>Sir John.</i> And how do you end the farce?</p>
+<p><i>Lord George.</i> In the usual fashion, Sir JOHN <i>(ignites
+blue fire)</i>&mdash;in smoke!</p>
+<p><i>[The characters are lost in the fog customary to the
+occasion.<br />
+Curtain.</i></p>
+<hr />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="page102" id="page102"></a>[pg
+102]</span>
+<div class="figcenter" style="width:100%;"><a href=
+"images/102.png"><img width="100%" src="images/102.png" alt=
+"A SEVERE SABBATARIAN." /></a>
+<h3>A SEVERE SABBATARIAN.</h3>
+<p><i>Mr. Bung (Landlord of "Ye Pygge and Whistle").</i> "SUNDAY
+LEAGUE, INDEED! <i>I'D</i> SUNDAY LEAGUE 'EM, IF I'D A
+CHANCE!&mdash;BREAKIN' THE LORD'SD'Y, AND HINTERFERIN' WITH MY
+TRYDE!"</p>
+</div>
+<hr />
+<h3>"SHADOWED!"</h3>
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Shadowed! Ay, even in the holiday season,</p>
+<p class="i2">The Statesman, in his hard-earned hour of ease,</p>
+<p>Is haunted by forebodings, and with reason.</p>
+<p class="i2">What is that spectre the tired slumberer sees?</p>
+<p>The foul familiar lineaments affright him;</p>
+<p class="i2">Its pose of menace and its pointing hand</p>
+<p>To caution urge, to providence invite him,</p>
+<p class="i2">To foil this scourge of the Distressful Land.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Who does <i>not</i> fear to speak of Forty-Seven,</p>
+<p class="i2">When that same Shadow darkened all the isle?</p>
+<p>Is <i>it</i> abroad once more? Avert it, Heaven!</p>
+<p class="i2">On Order's lips it chills the dawning smile;</p>
+<p>Awakener of hushed fears and hatreds dying,</p>
+<p class="i2">Blighter of more than Nature's genial growth,</p>
+<p>Herald of hungering lips, of children crying,</p>
+<p class="i2">To hold thee imminent all hearts are loth.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Vain holiday nepenthe, sport's unbending,</p>
+<p class="i2">The Statesman's burdened brain may not forget.</p>
+<p>His cares are ceaseless and his toils unending,</p>
+<p class="i2">Memories embarrass and forebodings fret.</p>
+<p>The gun, the golf-club, and the rod avail not</p>
+<p class="i2">In his tired heart to make full holiday;</p>
+<p>E'en amidst pastime he must watch, and fail not,</p>
+<p class="i2">Approaching ills, the shadows on the way.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Shadowed! And not by common gloom, poor Minister!</p>
+<p class="i2">The passing shades that chequer every course.</p>
+<p>This spectral presence is as stern and sinister</p>
+<p class="i2">As <i>atra cura</i> on the rider's horse.</p>
+<p>Before, the vision of the helpless peasant!</p>
+<p class="i2">Behind, the famine phantom black and grim!</p>
+<p>How should the holiday-hour, to all so pleasant,</p>
+<p class="i2">Bring gladness true or genuine rest to him?</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Wake! There is need for provident prevision,</p>
+<p class="i2">For watchful eye, and for most wary hand.</p>
+<p>In mellow Autumn's interlude Elysian</p>
+<p class="i2">The old grim Shadow strikes across the land.</p>
+<p>May Heaven arrest its course, avert its terror,</p>
+<p class="i2">And keep the Statesman who this foe must fight</p>
+<p>From careless blindness and from blundering error,</p>
+<p class="i2">Such as of old lent aid to the Black Blight.</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+<hr />
+<h4>"Jack Sheppard Reversed."</h4>
+<p>This is the title of an amusing article in last week's
+<i>Saturday Review</i>. It is not the story of JACK SHEPPARD once
+more done into rhyme. The title so happily selected is thoroughly
+justified by the doings of an eccentric and original burglar, who,
+broke <i>into</i> a prison! This certainly was JACK SHEPPARD
+reversed with a vengeance! The hero of the escapade is said to be a
+tinted native of Barbadoes&mdash;his portrait should be published
+as a companion to the "penny plain" of his prototype as "twopence
+coloured."</p>
+<hr />
+<h4>Cardinal Manning's Precedence.</h4>
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>It does not need heraldic lore</p>
+<p class="i2">The Cardinal's place to find.</p>
+<p>Of course he'll always come before</p>
+<p class="i2">The ones who are behind.</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+<hr />
+<h3>THE PHAGOCYTE.</h3>
+<p class="center"><i>(The Story of a Blood Feud.)</i></p>
+<blockquote>
+<p class="note">[A microscopist has found an organism called the
+Phagocyte in the blood, which pursues and devours the Bacilli.]</p>
+</blockquote>
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Strange the tale that Science tells.</p>
+<p>Here are some devouring cells:</p>
+<p>Ever watchful night and day,</p>
+<p>They the vile Bacillus slay;</p>
+<p>Wot we well he fears the bite</p>
+<p>Of the guardian Phagocyte.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Hour by hour the fight goes on,</p>
+<p>Till the silent battle's won;</p>
+<p>Vainly do Bacilli shirk</p>
+<p>When their deadly foe's at work;</p>
+<p>Every microbe faints with fright</p>
+<p>At the fearsome Phagocyte.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Should the Phagocyte not keep</p>
+<p>Faithful ward, but go to sleep;</p>
+<p>Then Bacillus, in high glee,</p>
+<p>Works his will on you and me;</p>
+<p>Danger would be ours to-night,</p>
+<p>But for that same Phagocyte.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Such a tale of Science seems</p>
+<p>Like the offspring of wild dreams;</p>
+<p>Fiction surely, in good sooth,</p>
+<p>Can invent no tale like truth.</p>
+<p>Stranger story none could write</p>
+<p>Than this of the Phagocyte.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>The Astronomer descries</p>
+<p>Worlds on worlds beyond our eyes;</p>
+<p>'Neath the microscope weird things</p>
+<p>Erst unseen whirl round in rings;</p>
+<p>Hence it is that we indite</p>
+<p>Stanzas to the Phagocyte.</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+<hr />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="page103" id="page103"></a>[pg
+103]</span>
+<div class="figcenter" style="width:100%;"><a href=
+"images/103.png"><img width="100%" src="images/103.png" alt=
+"SHADOWED!" /></a>
+<h3>"SHADOWED!"</h3>
+</div>
+<hr />
+<!--Blank page 104-->
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="page105" id="page105"></a>[pg
+105]</span>
+<div class="figcenter" style="width:100%;"><a href=
+"images/105.png"><img width="100%" src="images/105.png" alt=
+"A SPECULATIVE OFFER." /></a>
+<h3>A SPECULATIVE OFFER.</h3>
+<p><i>Driver.</i> "NOW, TOM, WHEN WE ARRIVE AT THE TURN, I'LL SELL
+YOU THE DOG-CART FOR A SOV!"</p>
+</div>
+<hr />
+<h2>MR. PUNCH'S SWIM ROUND THE WORLD.</h2>
+<p class="center"><i>(From his own Prophetic Log-book.)</i></p>
+<p><i>Herne Bay.</i>&mdash;The weather being extremely favourable,
+I jumped off the end of the new pier, and, getting the benefit of
+the flood tide, passed the Nore and inspected Southend. Swimming
+quite easily, assisted by one or two short rests.</p>
+<p><i>Margate.</i>&mdash;Beached this popular seaside place a few
+hours later. Swam out of sight of the sands to rid myself of a view
+of the excursion riff-raff thereon congregated. Sea completely
+smooth, but cold. Took a nip of &mdash;&mdash;'s English
+Cognac.</p>
+<p><i>Ramsgate.</i>&mdash;Very pleased to find myself abreast of
+the Royal Crescent, which seemed delightful. Cape Grisnez still
+bearing N.E. by E. Munched one of &mdash;&mdash;'s excellent
+Birchrod Biscuits.</p>
+<p><i>Dover.</i>&mdash;Just had a good long rest in front of
+Clarence Lawn, which glistened in the sunlight. Greatly refreshed
+after a drink of &mdash;&mdash;'s Essence of Gravy beef.</p>
+<p><i>Calais.</i>&mdash;A shower of rain came on at this point.
+However, one of &mdash;&mdash;'s excellent umbrellas kept my head
+dry, and, being easy to hold, did not prevent me from swimming and
+writing up my log.</p>
+<p><i>Gibraltar.</i>&mdash;I felt very fatigued going through the
+Bay of Biscay, but recovered much of my strength off the fortress
+by sucking one of &mdash;&mdash;'s capital Kill-cough Lozenges.</p>
+<p><i>Malta.</i>&mdash;I have now been in the water six days and
+three nights continuously, and yet am nearly as fresh as when I
+started. I attribute this marvellous fact to my practice of sipping
+&mdash;&mdash;'s Essence of Coffeetine.</p>
+<p><i>Aden.</i>&mdash;Water extremely hot, but am still confident
+of success. Went to sleep for an hour in the Red Sea, smoking one
+of &mdash;&mdash;'s Anti-alligator cigarettes, which are a real
+preventive against crocodile annoyance.</p>
+<p><i>Madras.</i>&mdash;Am continuing my side-stroke but somewhat
+languidly. I half regretted that I was unable to go on shore to see
+the Indian curiosities. Much refreshed after partaking of the
+contents of &mdash;&mdash;'s Patent Luncheon Basket.</p>
+<p><i>Singapore.</i>&mdash;Have now been continually in the water
+for six weeks. Regret that my log should be so "scrappy," but my
+time just now is very much occupied by other things. Tired, but
+confident of success. During the last fortnight have fed with great
+relish upon &mdash;&mdash;'s <i>Pur&eacute;e de foies gras.</i> It
+is not only cheap, but excellent.</p>
+<p><i>New Hebrides.</i>&mdash;Am now within measurable distance of
+the end of my journey. Quite accustomed to the water. However,
+greatly fatigued, and very pleased to eat some of &mdash;&mdash;'s
+Alimentary Condiment.</p>
+<p><i>Pitcairn Island.</i>&mdash;Glad to be again in these
+latitudes. My strokes are now very feeble. I should have to give in
+were it not for &mdash;&mdash;'s Medicated Mutton Broth, which
+seems to be most nourishing.</p>
+<p><i>Cape Town.</i>&mdash;In a fainting condition. Scarcely able
+to hold this pen. Became better after eating &mdash;&mdash;'s
+Digestible Plum Puddings, sold in tin canisters at 1s. 10d. per
+pound.</p>
+<p><i>Rio Janeiro.</i>&mdash;Terribly hot and exhausted. I have now
+been three months continuously in the water, which is certainly a
+long time. Much amused with a toy called &mdash;&mdash;'s
+Mechanical Rabbit.</p>
+<p><i>Cape Verde Islands.</i>&mdash;Almost unconscious from
+fatigue. However, I can swim more easily after I have drunk a glass
+or two of &mdash;&mdash;'s Cabbage Rose Temperance Non-Intoxicating
+Sherry. It is a most admirable beverage.</p>
+<p><i>Madeira.</i>&mdash;I move with the greatest difficulty, and
+fear I must be sinking. I obtain great strength from an occasional
+sip of &mdash;&mdash;'s "Beef-fibre" (title registered) which seems
+to me worth twice its weight in gold.</p>
+<p><i>Dublin.</i>&mdash;Have now been in the water continuously for
+nearly half a year. Too feeble to look at Dublin. I am evidently
+sinking, and can only keep off a relapse by eating &mdash;&mdash;'s
+Patent Vegetable Substitute for Roast Pork.</p>
+<p><i>Herne Bay.</i>&mdash;Returned dead&mdash;quite dead! Restored
+to life by inhaling &mdash;&mdash;'s Vitality Producer.</p>
+<p>N.B.&mdash;The above blanks will be filled up with real names.
+For particulars apply at 85, Fleet Street Advertisement
+Department.</p>
+<hr />
+<h4>A Black Business.</h4>
+<p>As stated in the <i>Daily Telegraph</i> of Thursday last, the
+Russian Censor stamped out <i>Mr. Punch's</i> Cartoon, "From Nile
+to Neva," and obliterated the verses. The <i>St. James's
+Gazette</i> suggested that the Cartoon was thus reproduced in
+Whistlerian fashion. It certainly is a study in black, without any
+relief whatever. A Black business indeed! Who shall correct the
+Censor Incensed? Even <i>Mr. Punch</i> himself would be chary about
+visiting Petersburg, lest he should be "bound in Russia,"&mdash;and
+sent to Siberia.</p>
+<hr />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="page106" id="page106"></a>[pg
+106]</span>
+<div class="figcenter" style="width:100%;"><a href=
+"images/106.png"><img width="100%" src="images/106.png" alt=
+"IMITATION THE SINCEREST FLATTERY." /></a>
+<h3>IMITATION THE SINCEREST FLATTERY.</h3>
+<i>(Effects of a Long Session in the House.)</i></div>
+<hr />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="page107" id="page107"></a>[pg
+107]</span>
+<h2>WHAT THE TAME RABBIT SAID TO THE GRAND OLD GARDENER.</h2>
+<p class="center"><i>(Some way after "Alice in
+Wonderland.")</i></p>
+<p>"The work of Major MORANT is headed <i>Profitable Rabbit
+Farming. (Laughter.)</i> Yes, that is a subject for merriment,
+probably, on account of its comparative novelty, but it is also a
+subject of satisfaction, which is akin to merriment, because this
+rabbit-farming appears to be a very good and promising description
+of pursuit.... That is the raising of tame rabbits."&mdash;<i>Mr.
+Gladstone at the Hawarden Floral and Horticultural Society's
+Show.</i></p>
+<div class="figright" style="width:50%;"><a href=
+"images/107.png"><img width="100%" src="images/107.png" alt=
+"AMONG THE BUNNIES." /></a>
+<h4>AMONG THE BUNNIES.</h4>
+</div>
+<p><i>These were the verses the Tame Rabbit recited</i>:&mdash;</p>
+<div class="poem" style="margin-left:5%">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>The Grand Old Man was on the stir;</p>
+<p class="i2">MORANT named me to him;</p>
+<p>He gave me a good character;</p>
+<p class="i2">I thought his meaning dim.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>He held me up; they thought it fun!</p>
+<p class="i2">And laughed; he chid their glee.</p>
+<p>If he should push this matter on,</p>
+<p class="i2">What will become of Me?</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>He said I was a paying game,</p>
+<p class="i2">Commending me as such.</p>
+<p>That's the result of being tame,</p>
+<p class="i2">And living in a hutch.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>My notion is that it is vain</p>
+<p class="i2">For you, you Grand Old Fella,</p>
+<p>To rave of rabbits in the rain,</p>
+<p class="i2">Beneath a big umbrella.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Don't let them know <i>we</i> fatten best,</p>
+<p class="i2">For this should ever be</p>
+<p>A secret kept from all the rest,</p>
+<p class="i2">Between yourself and me!</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+<br clear="all" />
+<hr />
+<h2>LITERATURE AND LOTTERY.</h2>
+<p class="center"><i>(By a Patron of the Popular Press.)</i></p>
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Yes, I've "a literary taste,"</p>
+<p class="i2">And patronise a weekly journal;</p>
+<p>'Tis what is called <i>Scissors and Paste</i>,</p>
+<p class="i2">The paper's poor, the print's infernal.</p>
+<p>But what of that, when, week by week,</p>
+<p class="i2">High at the sight of it hope rises?</p>
+<p>What in my Magazine I seek</p>
+<p class="i2">Is just&mdash;a medium for Prizes!</p>
+<p>I can't be bothered to read much,</p>
+<p class="i2">I like my literature in snippets.</p>
+<p>My hope is, with good luck, to clutch</p>
+<p class="i2">Villas, gold watches, sable tippets.</p>
+<p>A coupon and some weekly pence</p>
+<p class="i2">Give me a chance of an annuity.</p>
+<p>Oh, the excitement is intense!</p>
+<p class="i2">I read with ardent assiduity,</p>
+<p><i>Not</i> what the poor ink-spillers say</p>
+<p class="i2">In sparkling "par," or essay solemn;</p>
+<p>No, what I read, with triumph gay</p>
+<p class="i2">Or hope deferred, is&mdash;the Prize Column!</p>
+<p>On prose my time I seldom waste,</p>
+<p class="i2">And poetry is poor and pottery.</p>
+<p>But oh! I have an ardent taste</p>
+<p class="i2">For Literature when linked with Lottery!</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+<hr />
+<h3>ROBERT'S LITTLE HOLLERDAY.</h3>
+<p>My hollerday, or sum of it, was spent in Hopen Spaces. Hif
+anybody as has got two eyes in his hed, and a hart in his buzzom,
+wants for to see what can be done with about 40 hakers of
+land&mdash;witch the most respecfool Gardiner told me was about the
+size of the Queen's Park at Kilburn&mdash;let him go there on a
+fine Summer's Arternoon, and see jest about five thowsen children a
+playing about there, all free, and hindependent, and appy, with two
+fountings to drink when they're ot and thirsty, and a nice littel
+Jim Nasyum to climb up and down. They ain't allowed to play at
+Cricket coz there ain't not room enuf, but I did see two bold
+littel chaps, about six a peace, a breaking of the Law, and a
+playing at the forbidden game, with a jacket for the wicket and a
+stick for a Bat, and the kind-arted Gardiner hadn't got hart enuff
+to stop 'em.</p>
+<p>He told me as how, when the Copperashun fust took possesshun of
+it, it was nothink but a Baron Swomp, but that, what with the
+spending of lots of money, and the souperintending genus of Major
+MAKENZIE, in two years it was maid to blossom like a rose. I spent
+a werry plessant arternoon there, and drove home in style on the
+Box Seat of a reel Company's Bus. The nex day I went to Higate
+Wood, another of the grate works of the good old Copperashun. And
+lawks, what a difference! No swarms of children a playing about on
+the grass, but lots and lots on 'em a racing about among the
+hundreds of trees, and their warious fathers and mothers a looking
+on with smiling faces and prowd looks. There is one place in the
+werry middle of the Wood where no less than sewen parths meets, and
+there the Copperashun Committee has bilt up a bewtifool Founting,
+and a long hinskripshun in praise of Water, tho I shood dout if
+they speaks from werry much pussonal xperience. I was told as how,
+when they fust hopened the Founting, the Chairman made a bewtifool
+speech, and ended by saying, "Water, brite Water for me, and Wine
+for the trembling Debborshee," and then they all went off to a
+jolly good dinner.</p>
+<p>With that artistick taste as so distinguishes 'em, they have
+crissened the place where the seven roads meets, "The Seven Dials."
+There was crowds of peeple there, all enjoying of themselves in a
+nice quiet way, and altogether it was a werry werry nice site.</p>
+<p>The werry next day I started in the warm sunshine for pretty
+West Ham Park, and had a leetle adwenture as ushal, for jest as I
+got there who shoud I meet but the rayther sillybrated Parson of
+the Parish&mdash;tho' judgin by aperiences I shoud have took him
+for the Bishop of ESSEX&mdash;and seeing me in my new Hat and my
+best black Coat, he werry naterally took me for a inquiring
+Wisitor, and told me all about the good deed of the Copperashun in
+saving the Park for the good of the Peeple. There was some werry
+little chaps a playing Cricket as before despite of the Law, and
+they had a reel bat too, and one on 'em, seeing me a looking on
+apruvingly, gave the ball such a tremenjus blow that he got a
+tooer, so I called out braywo!</p>
+<p>There seemed a lot of washing going on jest outside the Park,
+the white shirts and settera, flustering gaily in the breeze. But,
+as the Poet says, "they're allus Washing somewheres in the World!"
+The common peeple was orderd to walk on the footpaths, but a
+gardiner told me as them orders was not ment for such as me. I had
+a most copious Lunch for tuppense in the helegant Pawillion, and
+being in a jowial and ginerus mood, I treated six of the jewwenile
+natives to a simmeler Bankwet. Then there is the sillibrated Band
+as the Copperashun perwides twice a week, on which occasions
+reserwed seats is charged a penny each. The werry adwanced state of
+the musical taste of the nayberhood may be judged by the fact, that
+at a Concert close by, a "Ode to a Butterfly" was to be played on a
+base Trombone!</p>
+<p>The Gardiner told me as there was such a crowd of children on
+larst Bank Hollerday that there was hardly room to move about, tho'
+the Park is 80 hakers big; but as I am told that such a space wood
+hold about 80 thousand, quite cumferal, I thinks as he must have
+slitely xadgerated.</p>
+<p class="author">ROBERT.</p>
+<hr />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="page108" id="page108"></a>[pg
+108]</span>
+<h3>A STRIKING NURSERY RHYME.</h3>
+<p class="center"><i>(With a Moral.)</i></p>
+<div class="poem" style="margin-left:35%">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Tilbury, Tilbury Dock!</p>
+<p>The men struck&mdash;on a rock;</p>
+<p class="i2">For their U-ni-on</p>
+<p class="i2">Said, "Wrong you have done!"</p>
+<p>Tilbury, Tilbury Dock!</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Tilbury, Tilbury scare!</p>
+<p>This "Striking" seems in the air.</p>
+<p class="i2">Conciliation</p>
+<p class="i2">Should free the nation</p>
+<p>From Tilbury, Tilbury scare!</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+<hr />
+<h2>THE PROFESSIONAL GUEST.</h2>
+<h4>AT THE SEA-SIDE.</h4>
+<div class="figleft" style="width:45%;"><a href=
+"images/108.png"><img width="100%" src="images/108.png" alt=
+"AT THE SEA-SIDE." /></a></div>
+<p>DEAR MR. PUNCH,&mdash;When I last wrote to you I was
+anticipatorily revelling in the sea-bathing, tennis tournaments,
+pier band, and evening promenades of Flatsands. Alas! that I must
+confess it, but, after a fortnight's visit to that "salubrious
+spot" (<i>vide</i> highly-coloured advertisements), I give it as my
+opinion that Flatsands is a failure; and I think that, when you
+have listened to, or rather perused, my tale of woe, you will agree
+with me that it is a place to be avoided at all costs.</p>
+<p>On the difficulties and length of my journey thither (I changed
+five times, and spent nine hours in doing so), I will not dwell,
+neither will I lay stress on the fact that, when I did at last
+reach my destination, a prospect void of either Aunt, or conveyance
+of any kind, met my view, or that a heavy sea-mist had gathered,
+and was falling in the guise of penetrating, if fine, rain. After
+parleying with the station-master for some time, I ascertained that
+the station 'bus never put in an appearance in wet weather, and
+that I could not get a closed fly, because the Flatsands'
+conveyances were all pony-traps, and therefore hoodless. He,
+however, directed me towards Balmoral, which was my Aunt's address,
+and told me that ten minutes' walk would take me, and that my
+luggage should be sent after me, on a truck.</p>
+<p>After some difficulty, for the sea-fog was very thick, I
+discovered Balmoral, but not my Aunt. The truculent-looking
+proprietor of the house, who answered the door, condescended to
+inform me that my relative "was the difficultest lady he'd ever had
+to do for. And that she'd left two days a-gone." But where she had
+betaken herself to, he either would not or could not tell me.
+"You'd best try along this row," he said, and then slammed the door
+in my face. Having nothing better to do, I followed his advice, and
+"tried along the row." I rang at Osborne, Sandringham, and Windsor.
+I knocked at Claremont (the bell was broken there), and walked
+boldly into Marlborough House, for that royal residence in
+particular was devoid of all ordinary means of heralding one's
+approach. I was just giving up my quest in despair, when through
+the rain, which was now falling heavily, I spied a small stucco
+villa standing shrinkingly back behind a row of palings, which, in
+spite of their green paint, looked more like domestic fire-sticks
+than anything else. The somewhat suggestive name of Frogmore was
+inscribed on the small gate, and I remembered that I quite shivered
+as I walked up the sloppy path, with my usual inquiry ready to
+hand. This time, though, I was right, and when, a few minutes
+later, I was sitting before a roaring fire, imbibing hot tea, and
+listening to my Aunt's account of her latest complaint (did I tell
+you she was hypochondriacal?) I felt that really and at last I was
+in for a pleasant visit.</p>
+<p>The evening proved a short one, for Aunt retired at nine, for
+which I was not sorry, as by that time the atmosphere of the
+sitting-room was distinctly stuffy, and neither dinner, nor the
+fumes of the invalid's hot-and-strong "night-cap" improved it. Next
+morning I sympathised with her on the fact that, soon after she had
+gone to bed, the young lady on the drawing-room floor (for two
+other families shared Frogmore's roof with us) had begun to sing,
+and had continued her performances till midnight; but I found my
+commiseration wasted, for she said that it had soothed her, which
+was considerably more than it had done me. After
+breakfast&mdash;which was late, on account of Aunt's health&mdash;I
+proposed a stroll on the Promenade, or an inspection of the tennis
+courts. "Bless my soul!" cried Auntie, "a person in my state of
+health does not go to places all over promenades and tennis courts.
+You won't find any such things at a nice quiet resort like
+Flatsands." I felt a little dashed, but replied "that perhaps she
+was right, and that it was a nice change to be without tennis; and
+that, as to promenades, they were quite superfluous where there was
+a pier, and a good band." "A pier, child!" she screamed. "You won't
+find any such abominations as piers here, or German bands either.
+Do you think that <i>I</i> should come anywhere where there was a
+pier?" I felt the smile on my face becoming fixed, but I mastered
+my feelings sufficiently to murmur something about bathing before
+lunch.</p>
+<p>"You can't bathe here," snapped Aunt&mdash;"they don't allow it.
+The shore is too dangerous. But you can come out with me, if you
+like, to the tradespeople&mdash;I see my bath-chair coming along
+the road."</p>
+<p>And that, <i>Mr. Punch</i>, is how I spent my fortnight at
+Flatsands. Walking by the side of my Aunt's chair, and giving
+orders to the tradespeople in the morning; walking beside the same
+chair and blowing up the tradespeople for not having carried out
+the orders, in the afternoon; sitting in a hot room from five to
+nine o'clock, then lying awake till midnight, listening to the
+drawing-room young lady singing Italian and German songs out of
+tune, and with an English accent.</p>
+<p>Three things only occurred to in any way vary the monotony of my
+existence. The first was the arrival of the singing young lady's
+brother. He was seventeen, and his lungs were as thick as his
+boots. He tobogganed down-stairs on a tea-tray the first day he
+arrived; the second day he passed me in the hall and asked, with a
+grin, "if I was one of the mummies in this old mausoleum?" the
+third day he left, saying that the place was "too jolly beastly
+slow" for him. The second event was the sudden extraordinary mania
+that Aunt (did I tell you she was rich?) took for the singing lady.
+I discovered, much to my chagrin, I must say, that often, instead
+of going to bed at nine, as I believed she did, she used to
+ensconce herself in the drawing-room, and there sit and listen to
+indifferent music till all hours. It was this second event which
+brought about the third excitement. For having been a little
+imprudent one night, in the matter of "night-caps," or careless as
+to draughts, my Aunt was taken seriously ill. At least she chose to
+think herself so, though I now have vague suspicions that the
+singing lady knew more about it all than she cared to tell. All I
+know is that the doctor was sent for, and that, after a long confab
+in the sick room, he came to me and ordered my immediate return
+home. "Your poor Aunt requires perfect quiet," he said.</p>
+<p>Having no choice in the matter, I packed my boxes; not exactly
+with reluctance, but still with an uncomfortable feeling of being
+wanted out of the way. Aunt's last words to me rather confirmed my
+suspicions. "Ah! you are off, are you? Well, I may pull through
+this time&mdash;I think I feel better already." Then, with a
+pecking kiss, and an inaudible remark anent the ingratitude of
+relations, she dismissed me. As I left the house I distinctly heard
+that singing creature run up-stairs and into Aunt's room.</p>
+<p>On the way back to town I decided that she (Aunt I mean) was
+right&mdash;relations are <i>disgustingly</i> ungrateful.</p>
+<p class="author">Yours, much hurt,
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; THE
+ODD GIRL OUT.</p>
+<hr />
+<h4>To the Champion (Cricket) County.</h4>
+<div class="poem" style="margin-left:25%">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p><i>"Skilful Surrey's sage commands."</i></p>
+<p class="i2">There is a cue from WALTER SCOTT!</p>
+<p>(<i>Not</i> Surrey's "WALTER.") <i>Punch</i> claps hands,</p>
+<p class="i2">And sings out, "Bravo, SHUTER'S Lot!"</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+<hr />
+<h3>THEATRICAL PROBABILITIES.</h3>
+<p>New pieces by HENRY AUTHOR JONES, author of <i>Judah, The
+Deacon, &amp;c.:&mdash;The Archbishop; The Salvationist, or
+Boothiful for Ever! The Rural Dean</i> (a pastoral play); <i>The
+Chorister</i>, a stirring drama, showing how a Chorister struggled
+with his conscience. Of course the Rev. Mr. WILLARD will have the
+principal part in each piece. Then there will be special nights for
+the Ministers of all denominations. There will be a
+<i>Matin&eacute;e</i> of <i>Precedence</i>, to which Cardinal
+MANNING and all his clergy will be invited. After the play is over,
+the Right Reverend Dr. WILLARD will preach a sermon to the
+Cardinal, on his duties generally.</p>
+<p>As long as only the orthodox witness these performances all will
+go well. But what a first night that will be when the Right
+Reverend Dr. WILLARD and the Reverend HENRY AUTHOR JONES find that
+some play has been produced in the presence of an audience composed
+entirely of Dissenters! <i>Absit omen!</i> This may never happen if
+only serious persons in orders, or rather with orders, are
+admitted.</p>
+<hr class="full" />
+<div class="figleft" style="margin-bottom:10em"><img src=
+"images/108-1.png" alt="pointer" /></div>
+<p>NOTICE.&mdash;Rejected Communications or Contributions, whether
+MS., Printed Matter, Drawings, or Pictures of any description, will
+in no case be returned, not even when accompanied by a Stamped and
+Addressed Envelope, Cover, or Wrapper. To this rule there will be
+no exception.</p>
+<hr class="full" />
+
+<div>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 12378 ***</div>
+</body>
+</html>
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+This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements,
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+
+Procedures for determining public domain status are described in
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+Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for
+eBook #12378 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12378)
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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Punch, or the London Charivari, Vol. 99,
+August 30, 1890., 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. 99, August 30, 1890.
+
+Author: Various
+
+Release Date: May 18, 2004 [EBook #12378]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PUNCH ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Malcolm Farmer, Sandra Brown and the Online Distributed
+Proofreading Team.
+
+
+
+
+
+PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.
+
+VOL. 99.
+
+
+
+August 30, 1890.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration]
+
+"WHY NOT LIVE OUT OF LONDON?"
+
+    SIR,--Capital subject recently started _Daily Telegraph_, with
+    the above title. Just what I've been saying to my wife for
+    years past. "Why don't _you and the family_ live out of
+    London," I have asked. And she has invariably replied, "Oh,
+    yes, and what would _you_ be doing in London?" I impress upon
+    her that being the "bread-winner" (beautiful word, this!) my
+    duty is to be on the spot where the bread is won. I prove
+    to her, in figures, that it is much cheaper for her and the
+    family to live out of town, and for me to come down and
+    see them, occasionally. Isn't it cheaper for one to go to a
+    theatre than four? Well, this applies everywhere all round.
+    With my Club and a good room I could get on very well and very
+    reasonably in London, and in the country my wife and family
+    _would positively save enormously_ by my absence, _as only the
+    necessaries of life would be required_. Dressing would be next
+    to nothing, so to speak, and they'd be out of reach of the
+    temptations which London offers to those who love theatre
+    entertainments, lunches at pastrycooks', shows, and shopping.
+    Yes, emphatically, I repeat, "Why not live out of London?"
+    _But she won't._
+
+    Yours,
+
+    ONE IN A THOUSAND.
+
+
+    SIR,--"Why not live out of London?" Of course. I _do_ live
+    "out of London," and make a precious good living too out of
+    London. My friends the Butcher, the Baker, the Greengrocer
+    (not a very green grocer either), the Tailor, the Shoemaker,
+    &c., &c., all say the same as
+
+    Yours cheerily,
+
+    CHARLES CHEDDAR _(Cheesemonger)._
+
+
+    SIR,--I only wish everybody I don't want to see _in_ London
+    would live _out of it_. What a thrice blessed time August
+    would be then! Though indeed I infinitely appreciate small
+    mercies _now_. At all events, most people are away, my Club is
+    not closed, and I can enjoy myself pretty thoroughly.
+
+    Yours,
+
+    _Elbow Room Club_.
+
+    BEAU WINDER.
+
+
+    SIR,--"Why not live out of London?" _Because one can't._ Out
+    of London there is only "existence." Is life worth living
+    anywhere except in London--and Paris; if you happen to be
+    there? No, no; those who like living "out of London," had
+    better not live at all.
+
+    Yours,
+
+    HIPPY CURE.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+MR. PUNCH'S DICTIONARY OF PHRASES.
+
+PRIVATE THEATRICALS.
+
+"_Tisn't a part that I_ feel, _and I fear I shall make a failure;"
+i.e.,_ "Easy as be blowed, but _I_'m thrown away upon it."
+
+
+TRADE EMBELLISHMENTS.
+
+"_The Ching-Twangs Central China Tea Company's selected growth of
+Early Green Leaf Spring Pickings;" i.e.,_ "A damaged cargo and last
+year's rotten sweepings, mingled with chipped broom, dried cabbage,
+and other equally suitable and inviting ingredients."
+
+
+AT LUNCHEON.
+
+"_No more, indeed, really;" i.e.,_ "Had nothing to eat--but more of
+_that_ stuff? No, thank you."
+
+
+ELECTIONEERING.
+
+"_The Leaders to whom the Nation owes its recent period of
+prosperity": i.e.,_ "Gentlemen who have unavoidably remained in Office
+during the revival of Trade."
+
+"_Having every personal respect for my opponent;" i.e.,_ "I now
+proceed to blacken his political character."
+
+
+IN THE SMOKING-ROOM.
+
+"_You know I always hate long arguments;" i.e.,_ "Don't deprive me of
+my pet diversion."
+
+"_No; I don't exactly see what you mean;" i.e.,_ "_You_ don't; but the
+admission on my part looks candid."
+
+"_My dear fellow, ask_ anyone _who really knows anything;" i.e._ "You
+appear to live among a half-educated set of local faddists."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+'ARRY ON 'ARRISON AND THE GLORIOUS TWELFTH.
+
+  DEAR CHARLIE,--No Parry for me, mate, not this season leastways--wus
+                   luck!
+  At the shop I'm employed in at present, the hands has all bloomin'
+                   well struck.
+  It's hupset all our 'olidays, CHARLIE, and as to my chance of a
+                   rise
+  Wot do _you_ think, old pal? I'm fair flummoxed, and singing, _Oh,
+                   what a surprise!_
+
+  These Strikes is becoming rare noosances, dashed if they ain't,
+                   dear old boy.
+  They're all over the shop, like Miss ZÆO, wot street-kids seems so
+                   to enjoy.
+  Mugs' game! They'll soon find as the Marsters ain't goin' to be
+                   worried and welched,
+  And when they rob coves of their 'olidays, 'ang it, they ought to
+                   be squelched.
+
+  'Owsomever, I'm mucked, that's a moral. This doosid dead-set
+                   against Wealth
+  Is a sign o' the times as looks orkud, and bad for the national
+                   'ealth.
+  There ain't nothink the nobs is fair nuts on but wot these 'ere
+                   bellerers ban.
+  Wy, they're down upon Sport, now, a pelter. Perposterous, ain't it,
+                   old man?
+
+  Bin a reading FRED 'ARRISON'S kibosh along o' "The Feast of
+                   St. Grouse,"
+  On the "Glorious Twelfth," as he calls it; wen swells is fair shut
+                   of the 'Ouse,
+  Its Obstruction, and similar 'orrors, in course they hikes off to
+                   the Moors.
+  Small blame to 'em, CHARLIE, small blame to 'em, spite of the prigs
+                   and the boors!
+
+  Yet this 'ARRISON he sets _his_ back up. Dry smug as can't 'andle
+                   a gun,
+  I'll bet Marlboro' 'Ouse to a broomstick, and ain't got no notion
+                   of Fun.
+  "Loves the Moors much too well for to carry one;" that's wot _he_
+                   says, sour old sap
+  Bet my boots as he can't 'it a 'aystack at twenty yards rise--eh,
+                   old chap?
+
+  _Him_ sweet on the heather, my pippin, or partial to feather
+                   and fur,
+  So long as yer never _kills_ nothink? Sech tommy-rot gives me
+                   the spur.
+  Yah! Scenery's all very proper, but where is the genuine pot
+  Who'd pad the 'oof over the Moors, if it weren't for the things
+                   to be shot?
+
+  "This swagger about killing birds is mere cant," sez this wobbling
+                   old wag.
+  From Arran he'd tramp to Dunrobin without the least chance of a bag!
+  "Peaceful hills," that's his patter, my pippin; no gillies, no
+                   luncheons, no game!
+  Wy, he ought to be tossed in a blanket; it fills a true Briton
+                   with shame.
+
+  No Moors for yours truly, wus luck! It won't run to it, CHARLIE,
+                   this round;
+  But give me my gun, and a chance, and I'll be in the swim, I'll
+                   be bound.
+  I did 'ave a turn some years back, though I only went out with
+                   'em once,
+  And I shot a bit wild, as was likely, fust off, though yer _may_n't
+                   be a dunce.
+
+  My rig out was a picter they told me--deer-stalker and knickers
+                   O.K.--
+  "BRIGGS, Junior," a lobsculler called me; I wasn't quite fly to
+                   his lay;
+  But BRIGGS or no BRIGGS I shaped spiffin, in mustard-and-mud-colour
+                   checks.
+  Ah! them Moors is the spots for cold Irish, and gives yer the
+                   primest of pecks.
+
+  Talk of sandwiges, CHARLIE, oh scissors, I'd soon ha' cleaned out
+                   Charing Cross,
+  With St. Pancrust and Ludgit chucked in; fairly hopened the eye of
+                   the boss;
+  Him as rented the shootings, yer know, big dry-salter in Thames
+                   Street, bit warm
+  In his langwige occasional, CHARLIE, but 'arty and reglar good form.
+
+  Swells will pal in most anywhere now on the chance of a gratis
+                   Big Shoot,
+  And there _wos_ some Swells with hus, I tell yer, I felt on the
+                   good gay galoot,
+  But I fancy I got jest a morsel screwdnoodleous late in the day,
+  For I peppered a bloke in the breeks; he swore bad, but 'twas
+                   only his play.
+
+  Bagged a brace and a arf, I did, CHARLIE; not bad for a novice
+                   like me.
+  Jest a bit blown about the fust two; wanted gathering up like,
+                   yer see.
+  A bird do look best with his 'ed on, dear boy, as a matter of taste;
+  And the gillies got jest a mite scoffy along of my natural 'aste.
+
+  Never arsked me no more, for some reason. But wot I would say is
+                   this here,
+  'ARRY's bin in this boat in his time, as in every prime lark pooty
+                   near,
+  And when 'ARRISON talks blooming bunkum, with hadjectives spicy and
+                   strong,
+  About Sport being stupid, and noisy, and vulgar; wy, 'ARRISON'S wrong!
+
+  _He_ would rather shoot broken-down cab-horses,--so the mug tells
+                   us--than birds.
+  Well, they're more in his line very likely; that means, in his own
+                   chosen words,
+  He's more fit for a hammytoor knacker than for that great boast of
+                   our land,
+  A true British Sportsman! Great Scott! It's a taste as I _carnt_
+                   understand.
+
+  Fact is this here FRED is a Demmycrat, Positivist, and all that.
+  There's the nick o' the matter, the reason of all this un-English
+                   wild chat.
+  He is down on the Aristos, CHARLIE, this 'ARRISON is. It's the Court
+  And the pick o' the Peerage Sport nobbles, and that's wy he sputters
+                   at Sport.
+
+  All a part of the game, dear old pal, the dead-set at the noble and
+                   rich.
+  "Smart people" are "Sports," mostly always, and 'ARRISON slates
+                   them as sich.
+  'Ates killing of "beautiful creatures," and spiling "the Tummel
+                   in spate"
+  With "drives," champagne luncheons, and gillies? _That_'s not wot
+                   sich slab-dabbers 'ate.
+
+  It's "Privileged Classes," my pippin, they loathes. Yer can't own a
+                   big Moor,
+  Or even rent one like my dry-salter friend, if yer 'umble and poor.
+  Don't 'ARRISON never _eat_ grouse? Ah, you bet, much as ever he'll
+                   carry.
+  There's "poz" for a Posit'vist, mate, there's 'ARRISON kiboshed
+                   by 'ARRY.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration: OUR YOTTING YORICK.
+
+YOTTING JOTTINGS.]
+
+Oh dear! oh dear! What perils I have been through! You'll see me again
+shortly; but there have been _momentums_ in my career when I said
+to myself, "Shall I ever _aller_ out of this alive!" I escaped the
+Petersburg police; they punched out your Cartoon, and all the lines
+about the Czar and the Jews; that's why I was so persecuted, and why
+I was watched. I wish to Heaven you wouldn't have Cartoons about Czars
+and Jews just when I'm at Peterborough, I mean Petersburg; same name,
+different place. But there, that's all over now, and _jamais_ will I
+go and put myself within the clutches of the Russian Bear again. The
+midnight sun must do without _me_ in future. I send you a sketch
+I made of a gargle--I think that's the name--on a church-door in
+Lapland. Isn't it really droll? You're always bothering me for
+something droll, and _now you've got it_. Then, _Mr. Punch_, riding
+a reindeer at half-a-crown an hour. Then here are the little Lapps
+offering our sailors a lap of liquor; and I said to myself, "One touch
+of Nature," which struck me as just the very motto for the picture. I
+roared with laughter at it. "This'll do for 'em at home," I said, and
+so here it is. And look at the "Lapps of Luxury"! You know that "Lap
+of Luxury" is a proverbial phrase; and, as you told me to make some
+comic sketches of the manners and customs of the country, why, I've
+done so; and, if they ain't funny, I don't know what humour is.
+_Voilà!_
+
+But you really must not expect me to grimace and buffoon. You must
+take me _seriatim_ or not at all. I can't stand on my head to sketch.
+I can't do it. I nearly _did_ do it, though, for when I had my
+sketching-book in my hand on board, the spanker-boom, or some such
+thing, came over suddenly and hit me such a whack on the head, that
+for two minutes I lay insensible, and thought I should never become
+sensible again. Rightly is it called "spanker-boom,"--that is if it
+_is_ called so, or some name very like it,--for I never got such a
+whack on the head in all my life before. I hear the Booming still in
+my ears.
+
+You can't expect a fellow to be funny, however funny he may _feel_
+(and I _did_ feel uncommonly funny, you may take your oath!), under
+such circumstances. However, as the song says, "Home once more,"
+and many a yarn shall I have to tell when I gather myself round the
+fireside, pipe all hands for grog, and sing you an old Norse song
+with real humour in it--though I dare say _you'll_ say you don't see
+it--and so no more _à présent_ from yours seasickly (I am quite well,
+but I mean I'm sick of the sea),
+
+FLOTSAM, Y.A.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+JOURNAL OF A ROLLING STONE.
+
+FIFTH ENTRY.
+
+Curious thing that to-day--after disappointment of failure for the
+Bar--letter comes from President of my old College, asking me "if I
+would accept a nice Tutorship for a time?" If so, "I had better come
+down and talk to him about it."
+
+Decided a little time ago not to try "Scholastic Profession"--thought
+it would try _me_ too much. Feel tempted now. _Query_--am I losing my
+old pluck? In consequence of my new "pluck,"--in the Bar Exam?
+
+"Um!" remarks the President (I _have_ run down and got a vacant
+bed-room in College). "Glad to see you. Oh, yes, about that tutorship.
+Um, um! The family live in Somerset." He mentions the county
+apologetically, as if he expected me to reply--"Oh, Somerset! Couldn't
+dream of going _there_. Not very particular, but must have a place
+within ten miles of Charing Cross." As I don't object to Somerset, at
+least audibly, he goes on more cheerfully--
+
+"Boy doesn't want to be taught much, so perhaps, it would suit
+you."--(_Query_--is this insulting?)--"He wants a companion
+more--somebody to keep him steady, have a good influence and all that,
+and give him a little classics and so on for about an hour a day."
+
+It did not sound as bad as I expected.
+
+"Rich people--um--merchants at Bristol, I think. Not very cultivated,
+though." Here President pauses again, and looks as if he would not be
+at all astonished if I rose from my chair, put on my hat, and said,
+"Not very cultivated! That won't suit _me_! You see how tremendously
+cultivated _I_ am." But I don't, and he proceeds calmly to another
+head of his discourse.
+
+"They haven't mentioned terms, but I'm sure they will be
+satisfactory--give you what you ask, in fact." (Rather a nice trait
+in their character, this.)--"Now, will you--um--take it? They want
+somebody at once."
+
+"Yes," I reply; "I'll go and see how I fancy it. Have they got a
+billiard-table, do you happen to know?"
+
+The President says, "he doesn't know anything about _that_," and looks
+a little surprised, as if I had proposed a game of skittles.
+
+On way down (next day) I feel rather like a Governess going to her
+first situation. Get to house late. Too dark to see what it's like.
+Have to drive up in a village fly. _Query_--Oughtn't they to have sent
+their carriage for me?
+
+My reception is peculiar. A stout, masculine-looking female with a
+strident voice, is presumably Mrs. BRISTOL MERCHANT.
+
+Sends me up to my bed-room as if I were my own luggage. Evidently very
+"uncultivated."
+
+In my bed-room. Above are the sounds of a small pandemonium,
+apparently. Stamping, falling, shouting, bumping, crying. What a lot
+of them there must be!
+
+There are! At supper--they appear to have early dinners, which I
+detest--three boys and one girl present, as a sample. Eldest a youth
+about ten, who puts out his tongue at me, when he thinks I'm not
+looking, and kicks his brothers beneath the table to make them cry,
+which they do. I begin to wonder when my real pupil will appear.
+
+Governess talks to me as if I were a brother professional.
+_Query--infra dig_. again?
+
+Children, being forbidden to talk in anything but French at meals, say
+nothing at all; at the end I am astounded at Materfamilias catching
+hold of the boy of ten, and bringing him round to me, with the
+remark,--
+
+"Perhaps you'd like to talk to ERNIE about lessons."
+
+Heavens! This nursery fledgling to be my pupil! And I am to be his
+"companion"! Fledgling, while standing in front of me for inspection,
+has the audacity to stretch out his leg, and trip up a little sister
+who is passing. Howls ensue.
+
+A nicely-mannered youth!
+
+"You will have to behave yourself with _me_, young man!" I warn him,
+in a tone which ought to abash him, but doesn't in the least.
+
+"Ah, but perhaps you won't stay here long," is his rather able
+rejoinder. "Our Governesses never--"
+
+"ERNIE!" shrieks his mother, threateningly. ERNIE stops; and I have
+time to regret my folly in not inquiring of the President the precise
+age of my promising disciple, very likely President didn't know
+himself.
+
+The other boys who were at supper are now presented to me. One is
+about eight, the other not more than six.
+
+"These are HERBIE and JACK," says their mother, who ought to know.
+Thank Heaven, _they_ are not my pupils!
+
+Mrs. BRISTOL MERCHANT horrifies me by saying--
+
+"I thought it would be so nice, when you were teaching ERNIE, _if_
+HERBIE _and_ JACK _could be taught too!_ And after lessons you will
+be able to take them such nice long walks in the neighbourhood! It's
+really very pretty country, Mr.--I forget your name."
+
+Oh, certainly, the President was quite right. She _is_ very
+uncultivated. That ever I was born to cultivate her--or her precious
+offspring! But was I? Time must show.
+
+[Illustration: SARTORIAL EUPHUISMS.
+
+"MEASUREMENTS ABOUT THE SAME AS THEY USED TO BE, SNIPPE?"
+
+"YES, SIR. CHEST A TRIFLE _LOWER DOWN_, SIR, THAT'S ALL!"]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+AN ARGUMENTUM AD POCKETUM.
+
+    [The Rev. B. MEREDYTH-KITSON called the attention of the
+    London School Board to the action of Mr. MONTAGU WILLIAMS,
+    who, being appealed to by "a respectable-looking woman" for
+    the remission of a fine of five shillings imposed upon her
+    husband for neglecting to send their children to school, gave
+    her five shillings out of the poor-box to pay it, on finding
+    that she had nine children, the eldest fifteen years, the
+    youngest five months, a husband out of work, and "no boots
+    for her children to go to school in." The Rev. STEWART HEADLAM
+    said that in East London they suffered a good deal through
+    the decisions of Mr. MONTAGU WILLIAMS, who constantly paid the
+    fines from the poor-box, or out of his own pocket!]
+
+  Oh, MONTAGU, this conduct is nefarious!
+    _You_ are, indeed, a pretty Magistrate!
+  Better the judgments, generous, if precarious,
+    Of the old Cadi at an Eastern gate.
+  No wonder that you madden MEREDTTH-KITSON,
+    And stir the bitter bile of STEWART HEADLAM.
+  When Justice, School-Board ruling simply "sits on,"
+    School-Boards become a mere annexe of--Bedlam!
+  Nine children! Husband out of work! No boots!
+    And do you really think that _these_ are reasons
+  For fine-remission? This strikes at the roots
+    Of Law, which ought to rule us at all seasons.
+  Oh, how shall KITSON educate the "kids,"
+    Or how shall HEADLAM discipline the mothers,
+  If you, instead of doing what Law bids,
+    Pay the poor creatures' fines and raise up bothers?
+  Law, Sir, is Law, even to Magistrates,
+    Not a mere chopping-block for maudlin charity.
+  Fining the impecunious doubtless grates
+    On feelings such as yours; there's some disparity
+  'Twixt School-Board Draconism, and regard
+    For parents penniless, and children bootless;
+  But pedagogues--ask HEADLAM--must be hard,
+    Or pedagogy's purposes are fruitless.
+  Poor creatures? Humph! Compassion's mighty fine;
+    A gentle feeling, who would wish to shock it?
+  But husbands out of work with children nine,
+    Should pay their fines themselves--not from _your_ pocket.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+KEPT IN TOWN.-A LAMENT.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+  The Season's ended; in the Park the vehicles are far and few,
+  And down the lately-crowded Row one horseman canters on a screw
+  By stacks of unperceptive chairs; the turf is burnt, the leaves are
+  brown, stagnant sultriness prevails--the very air's gone out of town!
+
+  Belgravia's drawn her blinds, and let her window-boxes run to seed;
+  Street-urchins play in porticoes--no powdered menial there to heed;
+  Now fainter grows the lumbering roll of luggage-cumbered omnibus:
+  Bayswater's children all are off upon their annual exodus.
+
+  On every hoarding posters flaunt the charms of peak, and loch, and sea,
+  To madden those unfortunates who have to stay in town--like me!
+  Gone are the inconsiderate friends who tell one airily, "They're off!"
+  And ask "what _you_ propose to do--yacht, shoot, or fish, or walk,
+  or golf?"
+
+  On many a door which opened wide in welcome but the other day,
+  The knocker basks in calm repose--conscious "the family's away."
+  I scan the windows--half in hope I may some friendly face detect--
+  To meet their blank brown-papered stare, depressing as the cut direct!
+
+  I pass the house where She is not, to feel an unfamiliar chill;
+  That door is disenchanted now, that number powerless to thrill!
+  'Twas there, in yonder balcony, that last July she used to stand;
+  Upon some balcony, more blest, she's leaning now, in Switzerland,
+
+  Her eyes upon rose-tinted peaks--but no, of sense I 'm quite bereft!
+  The hour is full early yet, and _table d hôte_ she'll scarce have left.
+  Some happy neighbour's handing her the salad--But I'll move, I think;
+  I see a grim caretaker's eye regard me through the shutter's chink.
+
+  Yes, I'll away,--no longer be the sport of sentiment forlorn,
+  But scale the heights of Primrose Hill, pretending it's the Matterhorn;
+  Or hie me through the dusk to sit beside the shimmering Serpentine,
+  And, with a little make-believe, imagine I am up the Rhine.
+
+  Alas! the poor device, I know, my restlessness will ne'er assuage:
+  Still Fanny beats, with pinions clipped, the wires of its Cockney cage!
+  No inch of turf to prisoned larks can represent the boundless moor;
+  And neither Hyde nor Regent's Park suggests a Continental Tour!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+VOCES POPULI.
+
+IN AN OMNIBUS.
+
+_The majority of the inside passengers, as usual, sit in solemn
+silence, and gaze past their opposite neighbours into vacancy. A
+couple of Matrons converse in wheezy whispers._
+
+_First Matron._ Well, I must say a bus is pleasanter riding than what
+they used to be not many years back, and then so much cheaper, too.
+Why, you can go all the way right from here to Mile End Road for
+threepence!
+
+_Second Matron._ What, all that way for threepence--(_with an impulse
+of vague humanity_.) The _poor_ 'orses!
+
+_First Matron._ Ah, well, my dear, it's Competition, you know,--it
+don't do to think too much of it.
+
+_Conductor (stopping the bus)._ Orchard Street, Lady.
+
+_To_ Second Matron, _who had desired to be put down there._
+
+_Second Matron (to_ Conductor). Just move on a few doors further,
+opposite the boot-shop. (_To_ First Matron.) It will save us walking.
+
+_Conductor._ Cert'inly, Mum, we'll drive in and wait while you 're
+tryin' 'em on, if you like--_we_ ain't in no 'urry!
+
+_The_ Matrons _get out, and their places are taken by two young girls,
+who are in the middle of a conversation of thrilling interest._
+
+_First Girl._ I never liked her myself--ever since the way she behaved
+at his Mother's that Sunday.
+
+_Second Girl._ How _did_ she behave?
+
+_[A faint curiosity is discernible amongst the other passengers to
+learn how she--whoever she is--behaved that Sunday.
+
+First Girl._ Why, it was you _told_ me! _You_ remember. That night JOE
+let out about her and the automatic scent fountain.
+
+_Second Girl._ Oh, yes, I remember now. _(General disappointment. )_ I
+couldn't help laughing myself. Joe didn't ought to have told--but she
+needn't have got into such a state over it, _need_ she?
+
+_First Girl,_ That was ELIZA all over. If GEORGE had been sensible,
+he'd have broken it off then and there--but no, he wouldn't hear a
+word against her, not at that time--it was the button-hook opened
+_his_ eyes!
+
+_[The other passengers strive to dissemble a frantic desire to know
+how and why this delicate operation was performed._ Second Girl
+(mysteriously)_. And enough too! But what put GEORGE off most was her
+keeping that bag so quiet.
+
+_[The general imagination is once more stirred to its depths by this
+mysterious allusion._
+
+_First Girl._ Yes, he did feel that, I know, he used to come and go
+on about it to me by the hour together. "I shouldn't have minded so
+much," he told me over and over again, with the tears standing in his
+eyes,--"if it hadn't been that the bottles was all silver-mounted!"
+
+_Second Girl._ Silver-mounted? I never heard of _that_ before--no
+wonder he felt hurt!
+
+_First Girl (impressively)._ Silver tops to everyone of them--and that
+girl to turn round as she did, and her with an Uncle in the oil and
+colour line, too--it nearly broke GEORGE'S 'art!
+
+_Second Girl_. He's such a one to take on about things--but, as I said
+to him, "GEORGE," I says, "You must remember it might have been worse.
+Suppose you'd been married to that girl, and _then_ found out about
+ALF and the Jubilee sixpence--how would _that_ have been?"
+
+_First Girl (unconsciously acting as the mouth-piece of the other
+passengers)._ And what did he say to _that?_
+
+_Second Girl._ Oh, nothing--there was nothing he _could_ say, but
+I could see he was struck. She behaved very mean to the last--she
+wouldn't send back the German concertina.
+
+_First Girl._ You don't say so! Well, I wouldn't have thought that of
+her, bad as she is.
+
+_Second Girl._ No, she stuck to it that it wasn't like a regular
+present, being got through a grocer, and as she couldn't send him back
+the tea, being drunk,--but did you hear how she treated EMMA over the
+crinoline 'at she got for her?
+
+_First Girl (to the immense relief of the rest)._ No, what was that?
+
+_Second Girl._ Well, I had it from EMMA her own self. ELIZA wrote up
+to her and says, in a postscript like,--Why, this is Tottenham Court
+Road, I get out here. Good-bye, dear, I must tell you the rest another
+day.
+
+_[Gets out, leaving the tantalised audience inconsolable, and longing
+for courage to question her companion as to the precise details of_
+ELIZA'S _heartless behaviour to_ GEORGE. _The companion, however,
+relapses into a stony reserve. Enter a_ Chatty Old Gentleman _who has
+no secrets from anybody, and of course selects as the first recipient
+of his confidence the one person who hates to be talked to in an
+omnibus._
+
+_The Chatty O.G._ I've just been having a talk with the policeman at
+the corner there--what do you think I said to him?
+
+_His Opposite Neighbour._ I--I really don't know.
+
+_The C.O.G._ Well, I told him he was a rich man compared to me. He
+said, "I only get thirty shillings a week, Sir." "Ah," I said, "but
+look at your expenses, compared to mine. What would _you_ do if you
+had to spend eight hundred a year on your children's education? I
+spend that--every penny of it, Sir.
+
+_His Opp. N. (utterly uninterested)._ Do you indeed?--dear me!
+
+_C.O.G._ Not that I grudge it--a good education is a fortune in
+itself, and as I've always told my boys, they must make the best of
+it, for it's all they'll get. They're good enough lads, but I've had
+a deal of trouble with them one way and another--a _deal_ of trouble.
+_(Pauses for some expression of sympathy--which does not come--and he
+continues:)_ There are my two eldest sons--what must they do but fall
+in love with the same lady--the same lady. Sir! _(No one seems to care
+much for these domestic revelations--possibly because they are too
+obviously addressed to the general ear.)_ And, to make matters worse,
+she was a married woman--_(his principal hearer looks another way
+uneasily)_--the wife of a godson of mine, which made it all the more
+awkward, y'know. (His Opposite Neighbour _giving no sign, the_ C. O.
+G. _tries one Passenger after another.)_ Well, I went to him--(here he
+fixes an old Lady, who immediately passes up coppers out of her glove
+to the_ Conductor)--went to him, and said--_(addressing a smartly
+dressed young Lady with a parcel, who giggles)_--I said, "You're a man
+of the world--so am I. Don't you take any notice," I told him--_(this
+to a callow young man, who blushes)_--"they're a Couple of young
+fools," I said, "but you tell your dear wife from me not to mind those
+boys of mine--they'll soon get tired of it if they're only let alone."
+And so they would have, long ago, it's my belief, if they'd met with
+no encouragement--but what can _I_ do--it's a heavy trial to a father,
+you know. Then there's my third son--he must needs go and marry--_(to
+a Lady at his side with a reticule, who gasps faintly)_--some young
+woman who dances at a Music-hall--nice daughter-in-law that for a man
+in my position, eh? I've forbidden him the house of course, and
+told his mother not to have any communication with him--but I know,
+Sir,--_(violently, to a Man on his other side, who coughs in much
+embarrassment)_--I _know_ she meets him once a week under the eagle
+in Orme Square, and _I_ can't stop her! Then I'm worried about my
+daughters--one of 'em gave me no peace till I let her have some
+painting lessons--of course, I naturally thought the drawing-master
+would be an elderly man--whereas, as things turned out,--
+
+_A Quiet Man in a Corner._ I 'ope you told all this to the Policeman,
+Sir?
+
+_The C.O.G. (flaming unexpectedly)._ No, Sir, I did _not_. I am not
+in the habit--whatever _you_ may be--of discussing my private affairs
+with strangers. I consider your remark highly impertinent, Sir.
+
+[_Fumes in silence for the rest of the journey.
+
+The Young Lady with the Parcel (to her friend--for the sake of
+vindicating her gentility)._ Oh, my dear, I do feel so funny, carrying
+a great brown-paper parcel, in a bus, too! Anyone would take me for a
+shop-girl!
+
+_A Grim Old Lady opposite._ And I only hope, my dear, you'll never be
+taken for anyone less respectable.
+
+[_Collapse of_ Genteel Y. L.
+
+_The Conductor_. Benk, benk! _(he means "Bank")_ 'Oborn, benk! 'Igher
+up there, BILL, can't you?
+
+_A Dingy Man smoking, in a Van._ Want to block up the ole o' the road,
+eh? That's right!
+
+_The Conductor (roused to personality)._ Go 'ome, Dirty DICK! syme
+old soign, I see,--"Monkey an' Pipe!" _(To Coachman of smart brougham
+which is pressing rather closely behind.)_ I say, old man, don't
+you race after my bus like this--you'll only tire your 'orse. _[The
+Coachman affects not to have heard._
+
+_The Conductor (addressing the brougham horse, whose head is almost
+through the door of the omnibus)._ 'Ere, '_ang_ it all!--step insoide,
+if yer want to!
+
+_[Brougham falls to rear_--_triumph of_ Conductor _as Scene closes_.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+IN THE KNOW.
+
+_(By Mr. Punch's Own Prophet.)_
+
+[Illustration]
+
+Readers of this journal will be surprised to learn that I am penning
+these lines from Blancheville, which as everybody, except the chief
+of the chowder-heads, knows is the most important town of one of the
+principal departments of France. Nothing but an overwhelming sense of
+what is due to myself, to my readers, and to my country, would have
+dragged me from the Metropolis at this season of the year. But a
+distinction was offered to me, a distinction so unique and so dazzling
+that I felt that it would not be fair to my fellow countrymen, of all
+ages, and of every party, if I failed to take advantage of it,
+and thus to present to the envious world the proud spectacle of an
+Englishman honoured by the great French nation. I will narrate the
+matter as briefly as is consistent with my respect for accuracy, and
+with my contempt for the tapioca-brained nincompoops who snarl,
+and chatter, and cackle at me in the organ of Mr. J. Last Friday I
+received this telegram:--
+
+_Blancheville, Friday._
+
+The inhabitants of Blancheville, in public meeting assembled,
+felicitate you on stupendous success of all your prophecies. Desiring
+to honour you in the name of France, the mother of glorious heroes,
+and the eldest daughter of Liberty, they have awarded to you the
+Montyon prize for virtue, and have selected you as _Rosier en
+perpétuité de Blancheville_, a new post never before held by a man.
+Presentation on Sunday. Come at once.
+
+_(Signed)_
+
+CARAMEL, _Maire de Blancheville._
+
+I started that evening. In the course of the following day I reached
+Blancheville. The people, in their holiday attire, were gathered
+in thousands at the railway station. M. CARAMEL, accompanied by the
+_Préfet_ and the _Sous-Préfet,_ all in their tricolor sashes, was
+the first to greet me. Saluting me on both cheeks, he called upon the
+world to witness that this was indeed a great day for Blancheville. My
+escort, under the command of General Count CROUTAUPOT, then formed
+up. I mounted the gilded Car of Victory, specially provided for the
+celebration, and, amidst the plaudits of the assembled millions, I was
+drawn by a specially-selected band of _Enfants de la Patrie_ (a sort
+of body-guard, composed entirely of the French aristocracy) to the
+palace, which had been prepared for my reception. At the banquet, in
+the Town Hall, the healths of the QUEEN and of M. CARNOT were followed
+by a lengthy speech, in English, from my brother CARAMEL (we have
+sworn fraternity), in which he declared that the centuries looked down
+and redazed in this joice, and that it was a delight for him to
+carry a toast to the illustrious visitor who had deigned to come
+to Blancheville. On the following day the ceremony took place. I
+transcribe and translate from _Le Petit Colporteur de Blancheville_,
+the chief local journal, an account of what took place.
+
+"On this day, so great and glorious for our France, it is not possible
+to refrain from tears of joy and satisfaction. We have made him
+_Rosier en perpétuité de Blancheville_, him the proudest and most
+sympathetic writer who has dazzled Europe since the great and
+illustrious PLUMEAU" (a local author of repute) "departed from us.
+The history of this day must be written. Let us essay to do it as it
+should be done. In the early morning twelve selected maidens, robed in
+muslin and lilies, sang the _Tocsin de la Patrie_ outside the Palace
+where our guest reposed. Soon afterwards he himself appeared in
+flowing white garments, and showered blessings upon their heads. He
+descended. He entered the four-in-hand-teams which the _Maire_ had,
+as a compliment to England, made up with a _char-à-banc_ of the
+neighbourhood. Thus he was drawn to the Market Place, where some of
+our bravest veterans fired in his honour a thundering salute. The
+beautiful and admirable Madame CARAMEL then advanced to him with a
+wreath of roses in her hand. She crowned him with it, saying, 'Wear
+this for Blancheville. Nobly hast thou earned it.' With difficulty the
+illustrious author preserved his calm. A tear sparkled in his eye. He
+bent low, and in a voice choked with emotion, thanked the citizens of
+our town. Then mounting on a milk-white steed, and surrounded by the
+young men of the district, he received from the _Préfet_ the Prix
+Montyon for virtue."
+
+The rest is too flattering. I am hastening home. The QUEEN has been
+graciously pleased to permit me to wear the Prix Montyon at Court. Can
+a man want more? Yours, in all humility,
+
+LE ROSIER DE BLANCHEVILLE.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+A PUFF AT WHITEHALL.
+
+_(A piece of extravagance faintly suggestive of a Scene from "The
+Critic.")_
+
+Lord GEORGE PUFF _and_ Sir JOHN BULL _discovered attending a rehearsal
+of the Naval Estimates._
+
+_Lord George._ And now I pray your particular attention, Sir JOHN, as
+this is the best thing in my play--it is a spectacular effect called
+the Summer Manoeuvres.
+
+_Sir John._ And no doubt costly, Lord GEORGE?
+
+_Lord George._ You are right, Sir JOHN, as you will have an
+opportunity of finding out--hereafter. But to the argument. It is
+supposed that the British Fleet is at war with, indeed, the British
+Fleet.
+
+_Sir John._ A very clever idea.
+
+_Lord George._ I flatter myself it is, and novel too. It is true that
+occasionally the ships comprising the British Fleet have run into one
+another in the past just as if they had been at war, but then they
+were avowedly at peace, and now they are undoubtedly the reverse. Do
+you take my meaning?
+
+_Sir John._ Well, not clearly. How do you show that the British Fleet
+is at war with the British Fleet?
+
+_Lord George._ Ah, there comes in my art, and I think you will confess
+I have a very pretty wit. You see I divide the British Fleet into two
+parts--one part represents the enemy and the other part represents
+itself like the House of Commons, a most representative body. That is
+clear, I hope?
+
+_Sir John._ Certainly--one is the British Fleet, and the other is not
+the British Fleet. But is there no bond of union?
+
+_Lord George._ Most assuredly there is--you pay for both. But, pardon
+me, I beg you will not further interrupt me. So, now that we have the
+two Fleets face to face, or, I should say, bow to starn, we proceed
+exactly as if there were a real quarrel between them. We spend money
+on coal, we spend money on pay, we spend money on ammunition. Nay,
+by my life, we spend money on everything--just as we should do if war
+were really declared! That's simple enough.
+
+_Sir John._ I confess your plan _does_ seem simple.
+
+_Lord George._ And there is more behind. We are not satisfied with
+merely spending money--we learn a lesson as well. Come, you must
+confess _that_ surprises you?
+
+_Sir John._ Well, I admit that generally, where there is any spending
+of money, it is _I_ who learn the lesson.
+
+_Lord George._ Good--distinctly good! But let us be serious. Well,
+when we are carrying on a war by every means in our power, we fancy
+that one Fleet is chasing the other. They both have equal speed, and
+we give one Fleet twenty-four hours' start of the other, and will you
+believe me that, although the first follows the second as fast as may
+be from the beginning to the end of the manoeuvring, they never see
+one another! On my life--never! They never see the British Fleet,
+because it's not in sight!
+
+_Sir John_. But could you not have learned all this without so great
+an expenditure of money?
+
+_Lord George._ Well, no, Sir JOHN--not at the Admiralty!
+
+_Sir John._ And how do you end the farce?
+
+_Lord George._ In the usual fashion, Sir JOHN _(ignites blue
+fire)_--in smoke!
+
+_[The characters are lost in the fog customary to the occasion.
+Curtain._
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration: A SEVERE SABBATARIAN.
+
+_Mr. Bung (Landlord of "Ye Pygge and Whistle")._ "SUNDAY LEAGUE,
+INDEED! _I'D_ SUNDAY LEAGUE 'EM, IF I'D A CHANCE!--BREAKIN' THE
+LORD'SD'Y, AND HINTERFERIN' WITH MY TRYDE!"]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"SHADOWED!"
+
+  Shadowed! Ay, even in the holiday season,
+    The Statesman, in his hard-earned hour of ease,
+  Is haunted by forebodings, and with reason.
+    What is that spectre the tired slumberer sees?
+  The foul familiar lineaments affright him;
+    Its pose of menace and its pointing hand
+  To caution urge, to providence invite him,
+    To foil this scourge of the Distressful Land.
+
+  Who does _not_ fear to speak of Forty-Seven,
+    When that same Shadow darkened all the isle?
+  Is _it_ abroad once more? Avert it, Heaven!
+    On Order's lips it chills the dawning smile;
+  Awakener of hushed fears and hatreds dying,
+    Blighter of more than Nature's genial growth,
+  Herald of hungering lips, of children crying,
+    To hold thee imminent all hearts are loth.
+
+  Vain holiday nepenthe, sport's unbending,
+    The Statesman's burdened brain may not forget.
+  His cares are ceaseless and his toils unending,
+    Memories embarrass and forebodings fret.
+  The gun, the golf-club, and the rod avail not
+    In his tired heart to make full holiday;
+  E'en amidst pastime he must watch, and fail not,
+    Approaching ills, the shadows on the way.
+
+  Shadowed! And not by common gloom, poor Minister!
+    The passing shades that chequer every course.
+  This spectral presence is as stern and sinister
+    As _atra cura_ on the rider's horse.
+  Before, the vision of the helpless peasant!
+    Behind, the famine phantom black and grim!
+  How should the holiday-hour, to all so pleasant,
+    Bring gladness true or genuine rest to him?
+
+  Wake! There is need for provident prevision,
+    For watchful eye, and for most wary hand.
+  In mellow Autumn's interlude Elysian
+    The old grim Shadow strikes across the land.
+  May Heaven arrest its course, avert its terror,
+    And keep the Statesman who this foe must fight
+  From careless blindness and from blundering error,
+    Such as of old lent aid to the Black Blight.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"JACK SHEPPARD REVERSED."
+
+This is the title of an amusing article in last week's _Saturday
+Review_. It is not the story of JACK SHEPPARD once more done into
+rhyme. The title so happily selected is thoroughly justified by the
+doings of an eccentric and original burglar, who, broke _into_ a
+prison! This certainly was JACK SHEPPARD reversed with a vengeance!
+The hero of the escapade is said to be a tinted native of
+Barbadoes--his portrait should be published as a companion to the
+"penny plain" of his prototype as "twopence coloured."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+CARDINAL MANNING'S PRECEDENCE.
+
+  It does not need heraldic lore
+    The Cardinal's place to find.
+  Of course he'll always come before
+    The ones who are behind.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+THE PHAGOCYTE.
+
+_(The Story of a Blood Feud.)_
+
+    [A microscopist has found an organism called the Phagocyte in
+    the blood, which pursues and devours the Bacilli.]
+
+  Strange the tale that Science tells.
+  Here are some devouring cells:
+  Ever watchful night and day,
+  They the vile Bacillus slay;
+  Wot we well he fears the bite
+  Of the guardian Phagocyte.
+
+  Hour by hour the fight goes on,
+  Till the silent battle's won;
+  Vainly do Bacilli shirk
+  When their deadly foe's at work;
+  Every microbe faints with fright
+  At the fearsome Phagocyte.
+
+  Should the Phagocyte not keep
+  Faithful ward, but go to sleep;
+  Then Bacillus, in high glee,
+  Works his will on you and me;
+  Danger would be ours to-night,
+  But for that same Phagocyte.
+
+  Such a tale of Science seems
+  Like the offspring of wild dreams;
+  Fiction surely, in good sooth,
+  Can invent no tale like truth.
+  Stranger story none could write
+  Than this of the Phagocyte.
+
+  The Astronomer descries
+  Worlds on worlds beyond our eyes;
+  'Neath the microscope weird things
+  Erst unseen whirl round in rings;
+  Hence it is that we indite
+  Stanzas to the Phagocyte.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration: "SHADOWED!"]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration: A SPECULATIVE OFFER.
+
+_Driver._ "NOW, TOM, WHEN WE ARRIVE AT THE TURN, I'LL SELL YOU THE
+DOG-CART FOR A SOV!"]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+MR. PUNCH'S SWIM ROUND THE WORLD.
+
+_(From his own Prophetic Log-book.)_
+
+
+_Herne Bay._--The weather being extremely favourable, I jumped off
+the end of the new pier, and, getting the benefit of the flood
+tide, passed the Nore and inspected Southend. Swimming quite easily,
+assisted by one or two short rests.
+
+_Margate._--Beached this popular seaside place a few hours later. Swam
+out of sight of the sands to rid myself of a view of the excursion
+riff-raff thereon congregated. Sea completely smooth, but cold. Took a
+nip of ----'s English Cognac.
+
+_Ramsgate._--Very pleased to find myself abreast of the Royal
+Crescent, which seemed delightful. Cape Grisnez still bearing N.E. by
+E. Munched one of ----'s excellent Birchrod Biscuits.
+
+_Dover._--Just had a good long rest in front of Clarence Lawn, which
+glistened in the sunlight. Greatly refreshed after a drink of ----'s
+Essence of Gravy beef.
+
+_Calais._--A shower of rain came on at this point. However, one of
+----'s excellent umbrellas kept my head dry, and, being easy to hold,
+did not prevent me from swimming and writing up my log.
+
+_Gibraltar._--I felt very fatigued going through the Bay of Biscay,
+but recovered much of my strength off the fortress by sucking one of
+----'s capital Kill-cough Lozenges.
+
+_Malta._--I have now been in the water six days and three nights
+continuously, and yet am nearly as fresh as when I started. I
+attribute this marvellous fact to my practice of sipping ----'s
+Essence of Coffeetine.
+
+_Aden._--Water extremely hot, but am still confident of success.
+Went to sleep for an hour in the Red Sea, smoking one of ----'s
+Anti-alligator cigarettes, which are a real preventive against
+crocodile annoyance.
+
+_Madras._--Am continuing my side-stroke but somewhat languidly. I
+half regretted that I was unable to go on shore to see the Indian
+curiosities. Much refreshed after partaking of the contents of ----'s
+Patent Luncheon Basket.
+
+_Singapore._--Have now been continually in the water for six weeks.
+Regret that my log should be so "scrappy," but my time just now is
+very much occupied by other things. Tired, but confident of success.
+During the last fortnight have fed with great relish upon ----'s
+_Purée de foies gras._ It is not only cheap, but excellent.
+
+_New Hebrides._--Am now within measurable distance of the end of my
+journey. Quite accustomed to the water. However, greatly fatigued, and
+very pleased to eat some of ----'s Alimentary Condiment.
+
+_Pitcairn Island._--Glad to be again in these latitudes. My strokes
+are now very feeble. I should have to give in were it not for ----'s
+Medicated Mutton Broth, which seems to be most nourishing.
+
+_Cape Town._--In a fainting condition. Scarcely able to hold this pen.
+Became better after eating ----'s Digestible Plum Puddings, sold in
+tin canisters at 1s. 10d. per pound.
+
+_Rio Janeiro._--Terribly hot and exhausted. I have now been three
+months continuously in the water, which is certainly a long time. Much
+amused with a toy called ----'s Mechanical Rabbit.
+
+_Cape Verde Islands._--Almost unconscious from fatigue. However, I can
+swim more easily after I have drunk a glass or two of ----'s Cabbage
+Rose Temperance Non-Intoxicating Sherry. It is a most admirable
+beverage.
+
+_Madeira._--I move with the greatest difficulty, and fear I must be
+sinking. I obtain great strength from an occasional sip of ----'s
+"Beef-fibre" (title registered) which seems to me worth twice its
+weight in gold.
+
+_Dublin._--Have now been in the water continuously for nearly half a
+year. Too feeble to look at Dublin. I am evidently sinking, and can
+only keep off a relapse by eating ----'s Patent Vegetable Substitute
+for Roast Pork.
+
+_Herne Bay._--Returned dead--quite dead! Restored to life by inhaling
+----'s Vitality Producer.
+
+N.B.--The above blanks will be filled up with real names. For
+particulars apply at 85, Fleet Street Advertisement Department.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+A BLACK BUSINESS.
+
+As stated in the _Daily Telegraph_ of Thursday last, the Russian
+Censor stamped out _Mr. Punch's_ Cartoon, "From Nile to Neva," and
+obliterated the verses. The _St. James's Gazette_ suggested that the
+Cartoon was thus reproduced in Whistlerian fashion. It certainly is a
+study in black, without any relief whatever. A Black business indeed!
+Who shall correct the Censor Incensed? Even _Mr. Punch_ himself
+would be chary about visiting Petersburg, lest he should be "bound in
+Russia,"--and sent to Siberia.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration: IMITATION THE SINCEREST FLATTERY.
+
+_(Effects of a Long Session in the House.)_]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+WHAT THE TAME RABBIT SAID TO THE GRAND OLD GARDENER.
+
+_(Some way after "Alice in Wonderland.")_
+
+"The work of Major MORANT is headed _Profitable Rabbit Farming.
+(Laughter.)_ Yes, that is a subject for merriment, probably, on
+account of its comparative novelty, but it is also a subject of
+satisfaction, which is akin to merriment, because this rabbit-farming
+appears to be a very good and promising description of pursuit....
+That is the raising of tame rabbits."--_Mr. Gladstone at the Hawarden
+Floral and Horticultural Society's Show._
+
+_These were the verses the Tame Rabbit recited_:--
+
+  The Grand Old Man was on the stir;
+    MORANT named me to him;
+  He gave me a good character;
+    I thought his meaning dim.
+
+  He held me up; they thought it fun!
+    And laughed; he chid their glee.
+  If he should push this matter on,
+    What will become of Me?
+
+  He said I was a paying game,
+    Commending me as such.
+  That's the result of being tame,
+    And living in a hutch.
+
+  My notion is that it is vain
+    For you, you Grand Old Fella,
+  To rave of rabbits in the rain,
+    Beneath a big umbrella.
+
+  Don't let them know _we_ fatten best,
+    For this should ever be
+  A secret kept from all the rest,
+    Between yourself and me!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration: AMONG THE BUNNIES.]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+LITERATURE AND LOTTERY.
+
+_(By a Patron of the Popular Press.)_
+
+  Yes, I've "a literary taste,"
+    And patronise a weekly journal;
+  'Tis what is called _Scissors and Paste_,
+    The paper's poor, the print's infernal.
+  But what of that, when, week by week,
+    High at the sight of it hope rises?
+  What in my Magazine I seek
+    Is just--a medium for Prizes!
+  I can't be bothered to read much,
+    I like my literature in snippets.
+  My hope is, with good luck, to clutch
+    Villas, gold watches, sable tippets.
+  A coupon and some weekly pence
+    Give me a chance of an annuity.
+  Oh, the excitement is intense!
+    I read with ardent assiduity,
+  _Not_ what the poor ink-spillers say
+    In sparkling "par," or essay solemn;
+  No, what I read, with triumph gay
+    Or hope deferred, is--the Prize Column!
+  On prose my time I seldom waste,
+    And poetry is poor and pottery.
+  But oh! I have an ardent taste
+    For Literature when linked with Lottery!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+ROBERT'S LITTLE HOLLERDAY.
+
+My hollerday, or sum of it, was spent in Hopen Spaces. Hif anybody as
+has got two eyes in his hed, and a hart in his buzzom, wants for to
+see what can be done with about 40 hakers of land--witch the most
+respecfool Gardiner told me was about the size of the Queen's Park at
+Kilburn--let him go there on a fine Summer's Arternoon, and see jest
+about five thowsen children a playing about there, all free, and
+hindependent, and appy, with two fountings to drink when they're ot
+and thirsty, and a nice littel Jim Nasyum to climb up and down. They
+ain't allowed to play at Cricket coz there ain't not room enuf, but
+I did see two bold littel chaps, about six a peace, a breaking of the
+Law, and a playing at the forbidden game, with a jacket for the wicket
+and a stick for a Bat, and the kind-arted Gardiner hadn't got hart
+enuff to stop 'em.
+
+He told me as how, when the Copperashun fust took possesshun of it,
+it was nothink but a Baron Swomp, but that, what with the spending of
+lots of money, and the souperintending genus of Major MAKENZIE, in
+two years it was maid to blossom like a rose. I spent a werry plessant
+arternoon there, and drove home in style on the Box Seat of a reel
+Company's Bus. The nex day I went to Higate Wood, another of the grate
+works of the good old Copperashun. And lawks, what a difference! No
+swarms of children a playing about on the grass, but lots and lots
+on 'em a racing about among the hundreds of trees, and their warious
+fathers and mothers a looking on with smiling faces and prowd looks.
+There is one place in the werry middle of the Wood where no less than
+sewen parths meets, and there the Copperashun Committee has bilt up a
+bewtifool Founting, and a long hinskripshun in praise of Water, tho
+I shood dout if they speaks from werry much pussonal xperience. I was
+told as how, when they fust hopened the Founting, the Chairman made a
+bewtifool speech, and ended by saying, "Water, brite Water for me, and
+Wine for the trembling Debborshee," and then they all went off to a
+jolly good dinner.
+
+With that artistick taste as so distinguishes 'em, they have crissened
+the place where the seven roads meets, "The Seven Dials." There was
+crowds of peeple there, all enjoying of themselves in a nice quiet
+way, and altogether it was a werry werry nice site.
+
+The werry next day I started in the warm sunshine for pretty West Ham
+Park, and had a leetle adwenture as ushal, for jest as I got there who
+shoud I meet but the rayther sillybrated Parson of the Parish--tho'
+judgin by aperiences I shoud have took him for the Bishop of
+ESSEX--and seeing me in my new Hat and my best black Coat, he werry
+naterally took me for a inquiring Wisitor, and told me all about the
+good deed of the Copperashun in saving the Park for the good of the
+Peeple. There was some werry little chaps a playing Cricket as before
+despite of the Law, and they had a reel bat too, and one on 'em,
+seeing me a looking on apruvingly, gave the ball such a tremenjus blow
+that he got a tooer, so I called out braywo!
+
+There seemed a lot of washing going on jest outside the Park, the
+white shirts and settera, flustering gaily in the breeze. But, as the
+Poet says, "they're allus Washing somewheres in the World!" The common
+peeple was orderd to walk on the footpaths, but a gardiner told me as
+them orders was not ment for such as me. I had a most copious Lunch
+for tuppense in the helegant Pawillion, and being in a jowial and
+ginerus mood, I treated six of the jewwenile natives to a simmeler
+Bankwet. Then there is the sillibrated Band as the Copperashun
+perwides twice a week, on which occasions reserwed seats is charged
+a penny each. The werry adwanced state of the musical taste of the
+nayberhood may be judged by the fact, that at a Concert close by, a
+"Ode to a Butterfly" was to be played on a base Trombone!
+
+The Gardiner told me as there was such a crowd of children on larst
+Bank Hollerday that there was hardly room to move about, tho' the Park
+is 80 hakers big; but as I am told that such a space wood hold
+about 80 thousand, quite cumferal, I thinks as he must have slitely
+xadgerated.
+
+ROBERT.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+A STRIKING NURSERY RHYME.
+
+_(With a Moral.)_
+
+  Tilbury, Tilbury Dock!
+  The men struck--on a rock;
+    For their U-ni-on
+    Said, "Wrong you have done!"
+  Tilbury, Tilbury Dock!
+
+  Tilbury, Tilbury scare!
+  This "Striking" seems in the air.
+    Conciliation
+    Should free the nation
+  From Tilbury, Tilbury scare!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+THE PROFESSIONAL GUEST.
+
+AT THE SEA-SIDE.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+DEAR MR. PUNCH,--When I last wrote to you I was anticipatorily
+revelling in the sea-bathing, tennis tournaments, pier band, and
+evening promenades of Flatsands. Alas! that I must confess it,
+but, after a fortnight's visit to that "salubrious spot" (_vide_
+highly-coloured advertisements), I give it as my opinion that
+Flatsands is a failure; and I think that, when you have listened to,
+or rather perused, my tale of woe, you will agree with me that it is a
+place to be avoided at all costs.
+
+On the difficulties and length of my journey thither (I changed five
+times, and spent nine hours in doing so), I will not dwell, neither
+will I lay stress on the fact that, when I did at last reach my
+destination, a prospect void of either Aunt, or conveyance of any
+kind, met my view, or that a heavy sea-mist had gathered, and was
+falling in the guise of penetrating, if fine, rain. After parleying
+with the station-master for some time, I ascertained that the station
+'bus never put in an appearance in wet weather, and that I could
+not get a closed fly, because the Flatsands' conveyances were all
+pony-traps, and therefore hoodless. He, however, directed me towards
+Balmoral, which was my Aunt's address, and told me that ten minutes'
+walk would take me, and that my luggage should be sent after me, on a
+truck.
+
+After some difficulty, for the sea-fog was very thick, I discovered
+Balmoral, but not my Aunt. The truculent-looking proprietor of the
+house, who answered the door, condescended to inform me that my
+relative "was the difficultest lady he'd ever had to do for. And that
+she'd left two days a-gone." But where she had betaken herself to,
+he either would not or could not tell me. "You'd best try along this
+row," he said, and then slammed the door in my face. Having nothing
+better to do, I followed his advice, and "tried along the row." I rang
+at Osborne, Sandringham, and Windsor. I knocked at Claremont (the bell
+was broken there), and walked boldly into Marlborough House, for that
+royal residence in particular was devoid of all ordinary means of
+heralding one's approach. I was just giving up my quest in despair,
+when through the rain, which was now falling heavily, I spied a small
+stucco villa standing shrinkingly back behind a row of palings, which,
+in spite of their green paint, looked more like domestic fire-sticks
+than anything else. The somewhat suggestive name of Frogmore was
+inscribed on the small gate, and I remembered that I quite shivered as
+I walked up the sloppy path, with my usual inquiry ready to hand.
+This time, though, I was right, and when, a few minutes later, I was
+sitting before a roaring fire, imbibing hot tea, and listening to
+my Aunt's account of her latest complaint (did I tell you she was
+hypochondriacal?) I felt that really and at last I was in for a
+pleasant visit.
+
+The evening proved a short one, for Aunt retired at nine, for which I
+was not sorry, as by that time the atmosphere of the sitting-room was
+distinctly stuffy, and neither dinner, nor the fumes of the invalid's
+hot-and-strong "night-cap" improved it. Next morning I sympathised
+with her on the fact that, soon after she had gone to bed, the
+young lady on the drawing-room floor (for two other families shared
+Frogmore's roof with us) had begun to sing, and had continued her
+performances till midnight; but I found my commiseration wasted, for
+she said that it had soothed her, which was considerably more than
+it had done me. After breakfast--which was late, on account of Aunt's
+health--I proposed a stroll on the Promenade, or an inspection of the
+tennis courts. "Bless my soul!" cried Auntie, "a person in my state
+of health does not go to places all over promenades and tennis courts.
+You won't find any such things at a nice quiet resort like Flatsands."
+I felt a little dashed, but replied "that perhaps she was right,
+and that it was a nice change to be without tennis; and that, as to
+promenades, they were quite superfluous where there was a pier, and
+a good band." "A pier, child!" she screamed. "You won't find any such
+abominations as piers here, or German bands either. Do you think that
+_I_ should come anywhere where there was a pier?" I felt the smile
+on my face becoming fixed, but I mastered my feelings sufficiently to
+murmur something about bathing before lunch.
+
+"You can't bathe here," snapped Aunt--"they don't allow it. The shore
+is too dangerous. But you can come out with me, if you like, to the
+tradespeople--I see my bath-chair coming along the road."
+
+And that, _Mr. Punch_, is how I spent my fortnight at Flatsands.
+Walking by the side of my Aunt's chair, and giving orders to the
+tradespeople in the morning; walking beside the same chair and blowing
+up the tradespeople for not having carried out the orders, in the
+afternoon; sitting in a hot room from five to nine o'clock, then lying
+awake till midnight, listening to the drawing-room young lady singing
+Italian and German songs out of tune, and with an English accent.
+
+Three things only occurred to in any way vary the monotony of my
+existence. The first was the arrival of the singing young lady's
+brother. He was seventeen, and his lungs were as thick as his boots.
+He tobogganed down-stairs on a tea-tray the first day he arrived; the
+second day he passed me in the hall and asked, with a grin, "if I
+was one of the mummies in this old mausoleum?" the third day he left,
+saying that the place was "too jolly beastly slow" for him. The second
+event was the sudden extraordinary mania that Aunt (did I tell you
+she was rich?) took for the singing lady. I discovered, much to my
+chagrin, I must say, that often, instead of going to bed at nine, as
+I believed she did, she used to ensconce herself in the drawing-room,
+and there sit and listen to indifferent music till all hours. It was
+this second event which brought about the third excitement. For having
+been a little imprudent one night, in the matter of "night-caps," or
+careless as to draughts, my Aunt was taken seriously ill. At least she
+chose to think herself so, though I now have vague suspicions that the
+singing lady knew more about it all than she cared to tell. All I know
+is that the doctor was sent for, and that, after a long confab in the
+sick room, he came to me and ordered my immediate return home. "Your
+poor Aunt requires perfect quiet," he said.
+
+Having no choice in the matter, I packed my boxes; not exactly with
+reluctance, but still with an uncomfortable feeling of being
+wanted out of the way. Aunt's last words to me rather confirmed my
+suspicions. "Ah! you are off, are you? Well, I may pull through this
+time--I think I feel better already." Then, with a pecking kiss, and
+an inaudible remark anent the ingratitude of relations, she dismissed
+me. As I left the house I distinctly heard that singing creature run
+up-stairs and into Aunt's room.
+
+On the way back to town I decided that she (Aunt I mean) was
+right--relations are _disgustingly_ ungrateful.
+
+Yours, much hurt,
+
+THE ODD GIRL OUT.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+TO THE CHAMPION (CRICKET) COUNTY.
+
+  _"Skilful Surrey's sage commands."_
+    There is a cue from WALTER SCOTT!
+  (_Not_ Surrey's "WALTER.") _Punch_ claps hands,
+    And sings out, "Bravo, SHUTER'S Lot!"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+THEATRICAL PROBABILITIES.
+
+New pieces by HENRY AUTHOR JONES, author of _Judah, The Deacon,
+&c.:--The Archbishop; The Salvationist, or Boothiful for Ever! The
+Rural Dean_ (a pastoral play); _The Chorister_, a stirring drama,
+showing how a Chorister struggled with his conscience. Of course the
+Rev. Mr. WILLARD will have the principal part in each piece. Then
+there will be special nights for the Ministers of all denominations.
+There will be a _Matinée_ of _Precedence_, to which Cardinal MANNING
+and all his clergy will be invited. After the play is over, the Right
+Reverend Dr. WILLARD will preach a sermon to the Cardinal, on his
+duties generally.
+
+As long as only the orthodox witness these performances all will go
+well. But what a first night that will be when the Right Reverend Dr.
+WILLARD and the Reverend HENRY AUTHOR JONES find that some play has
+been produced in the presence of an audience composed entirely of
+Dissenters! _Absit omen!_ This may never happen if only serious
+persons in orders, or rather with orders, are admitted.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+---> NOTICE.--Rejected Communications or Contributions, whether MS.,
+Printed Matter, Drawings, or Pictures of any description, will in no
+case be returned, not even when accompanied by a Stamped and Addressed
+Envelope, Cover, or Wrapper. To this rule there will be no exception.
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Punch, or the London Charivari, Vol.
+99, August 30, 1890., by Various
+
+*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PUNCH ***
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+1890.</title>
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+
+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Punch, or the London Charivari, Vol. 99,
+August 30, 1890., 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. 99, August 30, 1890.
+
+Author: Various
+
+Release Date: May 18, 2004 [EBook #12378]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PUNCH ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Malcolm Farmer, Sandra Brown and the Online Distributed
+Proofreading Team.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+</pre>
+
+<h1>PUNCH,<br />
+OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.</h1>
+<h2>Vol. 99.</h2>
+<hr class="full" />
+<h2>August 30, 1890.</h2>
+<hr class="full" />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="page97" id="page97"></a>[pg
+97]</span>
+<h3>"WHY NOT LIVE OUT OF LONDON?"</h3>
+<div class="figleft" style="width:20%;"><a href=
+"images/097.png"><img width="100%" src="images/097.png" alt=
+"owl and person" /></a></div>
+<blockquote>
+<p>SIR,&mdash;Capital subject recently started <i>Daily
+Telegraph</i>, with the above title. Just what I've been saying to
+my wife for years past. "Why don't <i>you and the family</i> live
+out of London," I have asked. And she has invariably replied, "Oh,
+yes, and what would <i>you</i> be doing in London?" I impress upon
+her that being the "bread-winner" (beautiful word, this!) my duty
+is to be on the spot where the bread is won. I prove to her, in
+figures, that it is much cheaper for her and the family to live out
+of town, and for me to come down and see them, occasionally. Isn't
+it cheaper for one to go to a theatre than four? Well, this applies
+everywhere all round. With my Club and a good room I could get on
+very well and very reasonably in London, and in the country my wife
+and family <i>would positively save enormously</i> by my absence,
+<i>as only the necessaries of life would be required</i>. Dressing
+would be next to nothing, so to speak, and they'd be out of reach
+of the temptations which London offers to those who love theatre
+entertainments, lunches at pastrycooks', shows, and shopping. Yes,
+emphatically, I repeat, "Why not live out of London?" <i>But she
+won't.</i></p>
+<p class="author">Yours,&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;ONE IN
+A THOUSAND.</p>
+<hr class="short" />
+<p>SIR,&mdash;"Why not live out of London?" Of course. I <i>do</i>
+live "out of London," and make a precious good living too out of
+London. My friends the Butcher, the Baker, the Greengrocer (not a
+very green grocer either), the Tailor, the Shoemaker, &amp;c.,
+&amp;c., all say the same as</p>
+<p class="center">Yours cheerily,</p>
+<p class="author">CHARLES CHEDDAR <i>(Cheesemonger).</i></p>
+<hr class="short" />
+<p>SIR,&mdash;I only wish everybody I don't want to see <i>in</i>
+London would live <i>out of it</i>. What a thrice blessed time
+August would be then! Though indeed I infinitely appreciate small
+mercies <i>now</i>. At all events, most people are away, my Club is
+not closed, and I can enjoy myself pretty
+thoroughly.&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;
+Yours,</p>
+<p class="center"><i>Elbow Room
+Club.</i>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;BEAU
+WINDER.</p>
+<hr class="short" />
+<p>SIR,&mdash;"Why not live out of London?" <i>Because one
+can't.</i> Out of London there is only "existence." Is life worth
+living anywhere except in London&mdash;and Paris; if you happen to
+be there? No, no; those who like living "out of London," had better
+not live at all.</p>
+<p class="center">
+Yours,&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;HIPPY
+CURE.</p>
+</blockquote>
+<hr />
+<h3>MR. PUNCH'S DICTIONARY OF PHRASES.</h3>
+<p class="center">PRIVATE THEATRICALS.</p>
+<p>"<i>Tisn't a part that I</i> feel, <i>and I fear I shall make a
+failure;" i.e.,</i> "Easy as be blowed, but <i>I</i>'m thrown away
+upon it."</p>
+<p class="center">TRADE EMBELLISHMENTS.</p>
+<p>"<i>The Ching-Twangs Central China Tea Company's selected growth
+of Early Green Leaf Spring Pickings;" i.e.,</i> "A damaged cargo
+and last year's rotten sweepings, mingled with chipped broom, dried
+cabbage, and other equally suitable and inviting ingredients."</p>
+<p class="center">AT LUNCHEON.</p>
+<p>"<i>No more, indeed, really;" i.e.,</i> "Had nothing to
+eat&mdash;but more of <i>that</i> stuff? No, thank you."</p>
+<p class="center">ELECTIONEERING.</p>
+<p>"<i>The Leaders to whom the Nation owes its recent period of
+prosperity": i.e.,</i> "Gentlemen who have unavoidably remained in
+Office during the revival of Trade."</p>
+<p>"<i>Having every personal respect for my opponent;" i.e.,</i> "I
+now proceed to blacken his political character."</p>
+<p class="center">IN THE SMOKING-ROOM.</p>
+<p>"<i>You know I always hate long arguments;" i.e.,</i> "Don't
+deprive me of my pet diversion."</p>
+<p>"<i>No; I don't exactly see what you mean;" i.e.,</i>
+"<i>You</i> don't; but the admission on my part looks candid."</p>
+<p>"<i>My dear fellow, ask</i> anyone <i>who really knows
+anything;" i.e.</i> "You appear to live among a half-educated set
+of local faddists."</p>
+<hr />
+<h2>'ARRY ON 'ARRISON AND THE GLORIOUS TWELFTH.</h2>
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>DEAR CHARLIE,&mdash;No Parry for me, mate, not this season
+leastways&mdash;wus luck!</p>
+<p>At the shop I'm employed in at present, the hands has all
+bloomin' well struck.</p>
+<p>It's hupset all our 'olidays, CHARLIE, and as to my chance of a
+rise</p>
+<p>Wot do <i>you</i> think, old pal? I'm fair flummoxed, and
+singing, <i>Oh, what a surprise!</i></p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>These Strikes is becoming rare noosances, dashed if they ain't,
+dear old boy.</p>
+<p>They're all over the shop, like Miss Z&AElig;O, wot street-kids
+seems so to enjoy.</p>
+<p>Mugs' game! They'll soon find as the Marsters ain't goin' to be
+worried and welched,</p>
+<p>And when they rob coves of their 'olidays, 'ang it, they ought
+to be squelched.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>'Owsomever, I'm mucked, that's a moral. This doosid dead-set
+against Wealth</p>
+<p>Is a sign o' the times as looks orkud, and bad for the national
+'ealth.</p>
+<p>There ain't nothink the nobs is fair nuts on but wot these 'ere
+bellerers ban.</p>
+<p>Wy, they're down upon Sport, now, a pelter. Perposterous, ain't
+it, old man?</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Bin a reading FRED 'ARRISON'S kibosh along o' "The Feast of St.
+Grouse,"</p>
+<p>On the "Glorious Twelfth," as he calls it; wen swells is fair
+shut of the 'Ouse,</p>
+<p>Its Obstruction, and similar 'orrors, in course they hikes off
+to the Moors.</p>
+<p>Small blame to 'em, CHARLIE, small blame to 'em, spite of the
+prigs and the boors!</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Yet this 'ARRISON he sets <i>his</i> back up. Dry smug as can't
+'andle a gun,</p>
+<p>I'll bet Marlboro' 'Ouse to a broomstick, and ain't got no
+notion of Fun.</p>
+<p>"Loves the Moors much too well for to carry one;" that's wot
+<i>he</i> says, sour old sap</p>
+<p>Bet my boots as he can't 'it a 'aystack at twenty yards
+rise&mdash;eh, old chap?</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p><i>Him</i> sweet on the heather, my pippin, or partial to
+feather and fur,</p>
+<p>So long as yer never <i>kills</i> nothink? Sech tommy-rot gives
+me the spur.</p>
+<p>Yah! Scenery's all very proper, but where is the genuine pot</p>
+<p>Who'd pad the 'oof over the Moors, if it weren't for the things
+to be shot?</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>"This swagger about killing birds is mere cant," sez this
+wobbling old wag.</p>
+<p>From Arran he'd tramp to Dunrobin without the least chance of a
+bag!</p>
+<p>"Peaceful hills," that's his patter, my pippin; no gillies, no
+luncheons, no game!</p>
+<p>Wy, he ought to be tossed in a blanket; it fills a true Briton
+with shame.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>No Moors for yours truly, wus luck! It won't run to it, CHARLIE,
+this round;</p>
+<p>But give me my gun, and a chance, and I'll be in the swim, I'll
+be bound.</p>
+<p>I did 'ave a turn some years back, though I only went out with
+'em once,</p>
+<p>And I shot a bit wild, as was likely, fust off, though yer
+<i>may</i>n't be a dunce.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>My rig out was a picter they told me&mdash;deer-stalker and
+knickers O.K.&mdash;</p>
+<p>"BRIGGS, Junior," a lobsculler called me; I wasn't quite fly to
+his lay;</p>
+<p>But BRIGGS or no BRIGGS I shaped spiffin, in
+mustard-and-mud-colour checks.</p>
+<p>Ah! them Moors is the spots for cold Irish, and gives yer the
+primest of pecks.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Talk of sandwiges, CHARLIE, oh scissors, I'd soon ha' cleaned
+out Charing Cross,</p>
+<p>With St. Pancrust and Ludgit chucked in; fairly hopened the eye
+of the boss;</p>
+<p>Him as rented the shootings, yer know, big dry-salter in Thames
+Street, bit warm</p>
+<p>In his langwige occasional, CHARLIE, but 'arty and reglar good
+form.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Swells will pal in most anywhere now on the chance of a gratis
+Big Shoot,</p>
+<p>And there <i>wos</i> some Swells with hus, I tell yer, I felt on
+the good gay galoot,</p>
+<p>But I fancy I got jest a morsel screwdnoodleous late in the
+day,</p>
+<p>For I peppered a bloke in the breeks; he swore bad, but 'twas
+only his play.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Bagged a brace and a arf, I did, CHARLIE; not bad for a novice
+like me.</p>
+<p>Jest a bit blown about the fust two; wanted gathering up like,
+yer see.</p>
+<p>A bird do look best with his 'ed on, dear boy, as a matter of
+taste;</p>
+<p>And the gillies got jest a mite scoffy along of my natural
+'aste.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Never arsked me no more, for some reason. But wot I would say is
+this here,</p>
+<p>'ARRY's bin in this boat in his time, as in every prime lark
+pooty near,</p>
+<p>And when 'ARRISON talks blooming bunkum, with hadjectives spicy
+and strong,</p>
+<p>About Sport being stupid, and noisy, and vulgar; wy, 'ARRISON'S
+wrong!</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p><i>He</i> would rather shoot broken-down cab-horses,&mdash;so
+the mug tells us&mdash;than birds.</p>
+<p>Well, they're more in his line very likely; that means, in his
+own chosen words,</p>
+<p>He's more fit for a hammytoor knacker than for that great boast
+of our land,</p>
+<p>A true British Sportsman! Great Scott! It's a taste as I
+<i>carnt</i> understand.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Fact is this here FRED is a Demmycrat, Positivist, and all
+that.</p>
+<p>There's the nick o' the matter, the reason of all this
+un-English wild chat.</p>
+<p>He is down on the Aristos, CHARLIE, this 'ARRISON is. It's the
+Court</p>
+<p>And the pick o' the Peerage Sport nobbles, and that's wy he
+sputters at Sport.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>All a part of the game, dear old pal, the dead-set at the noble
+and rich.</p>
+<p>"Smart people" are "Sports," mostly always, and 'ARRISON slates
+them as sich.</p>
+<p>'Ates killing of "beautiful creatures," and spiling "the Tummel
+in spate"</p>
+<p>With "drives," champagne luncheons, and gillies? <i>That</i>'s
+not wot sich slab-dabbers 'ate.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>It's "Privileged Classes," my pippin, they loathes. Yer can't
+own a big Moor,</p>
+<p>Or even rent one like my dry-salter friend, if yer 'umble and
+poor.</p>
+<p>Don't 'ARRISON never <i>eat</i> grouse? Ah, you bet, much as
+ever he'll carry.</p>
+<p>There's "poz" for a Posit'vist, mate, there's 'ARRISON kiboshed
+by 'ARRY.</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+<hr />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="page98" id="page98"></a>[pg
+98]</span>
+<div class="figcenter" style="width:100%;">
+<h2>OUR YOTTING YORICK.</h2>
+<a href="images/098-1.png"><img width="100%" src="images/098-1.png"
+alt="OUR YOTTING YORICK." /></a></div>
+<div class="figleft" style="width:50%;"><a href=
+"images/098-2.png"><img width="100%" src="images/098-2.png" alt=
+"YOTTING JOTTINGS." /></a>
+<h3>YOTTING JOTTINGS.</h3>
+</div>
+<p>Oh dear! oh dear! What perils I have been through! You'll see me
+again shortly; but there have been <i>momentums</i> in my career
+when I said to myself, "Shall I ever <i>aller</i> out of this
+alive!" I escaped the Petersburg police; they punched out your
+Cartoon, and all the lines about the Czar and the Jews; that's why
+I was so persecuted, and why I was watched. I wish to Heaven you
+wouldn't have Cartoons about Czars and Jews just when I'm at
+Peterborough, I mean Petersburg; same name, different place. But
+there, that's all over now, and <i>jamais</i> will I go and put
+myself within the clutches of the Russian Bear again. The midnight
+sun must do without <i>me</i> in future. I send you a sketch I made
+of a gargle&mdash;I think that's the name&mdash;on a church-door in
+Lapland. Isn't it really droll? You're always bothering me for
+something droll, and <i>now you've got it</i>. Then, <i>Mr.
+Punch</i>, riding a reindeer at half-a-crown an hour. Then here are
+the little Lapps offering our sailors a lap of liquor; and I said
+to myself, "One touch of Nature," which struck me as just the very
+motto for the picture. I roared with laughter at it. "This'll do
+for 'em at home," I said, and so here it is. And look at the "Lapps
+of Luxury"! You know that "Lap of Luxury" is a proverbial phrase;
+and, as you told me to make some comic sketches of the manners and
+customs of the country, why, I've done so; and, if they ain't
+funny, I don't know what humour is. <i>Voil&agrave;!</i></p>
+<p>But you really must not expect me to grimace and buffoon. You
+must take me <i>seriatim</i> or not at all. I can't stand on my
+head to sketch. I can't do it. I nearly <i>did</i> do it, though,
+for when I had my sketching-book in my hand on board, the
+spanker-boom, or some such thing, came over suddenly and hit me
+such a whack on the head, that for two minutes I lay insensible,
+and thought I should never become sensible again. Rightly is it
+called "spanker-boom,"&mdash;that is if it <i>is</i> called so, or
+some name very like it,&mdash;for I never got such a whack on the
+head in all my life before. I hear the Booming still in my
+ears.</p>
+<p>You can't expect a fellow to be funny, however funny he may
+<i>feel</i> (and I <i>did</i> feel uncommonly funny, you may take
+your oath!), under such circumstances. However, as the song says,
+"Home once more," and many a yarn shall I have to tell when I
+gather myself round the fireside, pipe all hands for grog, and sing
+you an old Norse song with real humour in it&mdash;though I dare
+say <i>you'll</i> say you don't see it&mdash;and so no more
+<i>&agrave; pr&eacute;sent</i> from yours seasickly (I am quite
+well, but I mean I'm sick of the sea),</p>
+<p class="author">FLOTSAM, Y.A.</p>
+<hr />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="page99" id="page99"></a>[pg
+99]</span>
+<h2>JOURNAL OF A ROLLING STONE.</h2>
+<h4>FIFTH ENTRY.</h4>
+<p>Curious thing that to-day&mdash;after disappointment of failure
+for the Bar&mdash;letter comes from President of my old College,
+asking me "if I would accept a nice Tutorship for a time?" If so,
+"I had better come down and talk to him about it."</p>
+<p>Decided a little time ago not to try "Scholastic
+Profession"&mdash;thought it would try <i>me</i> too much. Feel
+tempted now. <i>Query</i>&mdash;am I losing my old pluck? In
+consequence of my new "pluck,"&mdash;in the Bar Exam?</p>
+<p>"Um!" remarks the President (I <i>have</i> run down and got a
+vacant bed-room in College). "Glad to see you. Oh, yes, about that
+tutorship. Um, um! The family live in Somerset." He mentions the
+county apologetically, as if he expected me to reply&mdash;"Oh,
+Somerset! Couldn't dream of going <i>there</i>. Not very
+particular, but must have a place within ten miles of Charing
+Cross." As I don't object to Somerset, at least audibly, he goes on
+more cheerfully&mdash;</p>
+<p>"Boy doesn't want to be taught much, so perhaps, it would suit
+you."&mdash;(<i>Query</i>&mdash;is this insulting?)&mdash;"He wants
+a companion more&mdash;somebody to keep him steady, have a good
+influence and all that, and give him a little classics and so on
+for about an hour a day."</p>
+<p>It did not sound as bad as I expected.</p>
+<p>"Rich people&mdash;um&mdash;merchants at Bristol, I think. Not
+very cultivated, though." Here President pauses again, and looks as
+if he would not be at all astonished if I rose from my chair, put
+on my hat, and said, "Not very cultivated! That won't suit
+<i>me</i>! You see how tremendously cultivated <i>I</i> am." But I
+don't, and he proceeds calmly to another head of his discourse.</p>
+<p>"They haven't mentioned terms, but I'm sure they will be
+satisfactory&mdash;give you what you ask, in fact." (Rather a nice
+trait in their character, this.)&mdash;"Now, will
+you&mdash;um&mdash;take it? They want somebody at once."</p>
+<p>"Yes," I reply; "I'll go and see how I fancy it. Have they got a
+billiard-table, do you happen to know?"</p>
+<p>The President says, "he doesn't know anything about
+<i>that</i>," and looks a little surprised, as if I had proposed a
+game of skittles.</p>
+<p>On way down (next day) I feel rather like a Governess going to
+her first situation. Get to house late. Too dark to see what it's
+like. Have to drive up in a village fly.
+<i>Query</i>&mdash;Oughtn't they to have sent their carriage for
+me?</p>
+<p>My reception is peculiar. A stout, masculine-looking female with
+a strident voice, is presumably Mrs. BRISTOL MERCHANT.</p>
+<p>Sends me up to my bed-room as if I were my own luggage.
+Evidently very "uncultivated."</p>
+<p>In my bed-room. Above are the sounds of a small pandemonium,
+apparently. Stamping, falling, shouting, bumping, crying. What a
+lot of them there must be!</p>
+<p>There are! At supper&mdash;they appear to have early dinners,
+which I detest&mdash;three boys and one girl present, as a sample.
+Eldest a youth about ten, who puts out his tongue at me, when he
+thinks I'm not looking, and kicks his brothers beneath the table to
+make them cry, which they do. I begin to wonder when my real pupil
+will appear.</p>
+<p>Governess talks to me as if I were a brother professional.
+<i>Query&mdash;infra dig</i>. again?</p>
+<p>Children, being forbidden to talk in anything but French at
+meals, say nothing at all; at the end I am astounded at
+Materfamilias catching hold of the boy of ten, and bringing him
+round to me, with the remark,&mdash;</p>
+<p>"Perhaps you'd like to talk to ERNIE about lessons."</p>
+<p>Heavens! This nursery fledgling to be my pupil! And I am to be
+his "companion"! Fledgling, while standing in front of me for
+inspection, has the audacity to stretch out his leg, and trip up a
+little sister who is passing. Howls ensue.</p>
+<p>A nicely-mannered youth!</p>
+<p>"You will have to behave yourself with <i>me</i>, young man!" I
+warn him, in a tone which ought to abash him, but doesn't in the
+least.</p>
+<p>"Ah, but perhaps you won't stay here long," is his rather able
+rejoinder. "Our Governesses never&mdash;"</p>
+<p>"ERNIE!" shrieks his mother, threateningly. ERNIE stops; and I
+have time to regret my folly in not inquiring of the President the
+precise age of my promising disciple, very likely President didn't
+know himself.</p>
+<p>The other boys who were at supper are now presented to me. One
+is about eight, the other not more than six.</p>
+<p>"These are HERBIE and JACK," says their mother, who ought to
+know. Thank Heaven, <i>they</i> are not my pupils!</p>
+<p>Mrs. BRISTOL MERCHANT horrifies me by saying&mdash;</p>
+<p>"I thought it would be so nice, when you were teaching ERNIE,
+<i>if</i> HERBIE <i>and</i> JACK <i>could be taught too!</i> And
+after lessons you will be able to take them such nice long walks in
+the neighbourhood! It's really very pretty country, Mr.&mdash;I
+forget your name."</p>
+<p>Oh, certainly, the President was quite right. She <i>is</i> very
+uncultivated. That ever I was born to cultivate her&mdash;or her
+precious offspring! But was I? Time must show.</p>
+<div class="figcenter" style="width:40%;"><a href=
+"images/099.png"><img width="100%" src="images/099.png" alt=
+"SARTORIAL EUPHUISMS." /></a>
+<h3>SARTORIAL EUPHUISMS.</h3>
+<p>"MEASUREMENTS ABOUT THE SAME AS THEY USED TO BE, SNIPPE?"</p>
+<p>"YES, SIR. CHEST A TRIFLE <i>LOWER DOWN</i>, SIR, THAT'S
+ALL!"</p>
+</div>
+<hr />
+<h2>AN ARGUMENTUM AD POCKETUM.</h2>
+<blockquote>
+<p>[The Rev. B. MEREDYTH-KITSON called the attention of the London
+School Board to the action of Mr. MONTAGU WILLIAMS, who, being
+appealed to by "a respectable-looking woman" for the remission of a
+fine of five shillings imposed upon her husband for neglecting to
+send their children to school, gave her five shillings out of the
+poor-box to pay it, on finding that she had nine children, the
+eldest fifteen years, the youngest five months, a husband out of
+work, and "no boots for her children to go to school in." The Rev.
+STEWART HEADLAM said that in East London they suffered a good deal
+through the decisions of Mr. MONTAGU WILLIAMS, who constantly paid
+the fines from the poor-box, or out of his own pocket!]</p>
+</blockquote>
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Oh, MONTAGU, this conduct is nefarious!</p>
+<p class="i2"><i>You</i> are, indeed, a pretty Magistrate!</p>
+<p>Better the judgments, generous, if precarious,</p>
+<p class="i2">Of the old Cadi at an Eastern gate.</p>
+<p>No wonder that you madden MEREDTTH-KITSON,</p>
+<p class="i2">And stir the bitter bile of STEWART HEADLAM.</p>
+<p>When Justice, School-Board ruling simply "sits on,"</p>
+<p class="i2">School-Boards become a mere annexe
+of&mdash;Bedlam!</p>
+<p>Nine children! Husband out of work! No boots!</p>
+<p class="i2">And do you really think that <i>these</i> are
+reasons</p>
+<p>For fine-remission? This strikes at the roots</p>
+<p class="i2">Of Law, which ought to rule us at all seasons.</p>
+<p>Oh, how shall KITSON educate the "kids,"</p>
+<p class="i2">Or how shall HEADLAM discipline the mothers,</p>
+<p>If you, instead of doing what Law bids,</p>
+<p class="i2">Pay the poor creatures' fines and raise up
+bothers?</p>
+<p>Law, Sir, is Law, even to Magistrates,</p>
+<p class="i2">Not a mere chopping-block for maudlin charity.</p>
+<p>Fining the impecunious doubtless grates</p>
+<p class="i2">On feelings such as yours; there's some disparity</p>
+<p>'Twixt School-Board Draconism, and regard</p>
+<p class="i2">For parents penniless, and children bootless;</p>
+<p>But pedagogues&mdash;ask HEADLAM&mdash;must be hard,</p>
+<p class="i2">Or pedagogy's purposes are fruitless.</p>
+<p>Poor creatures? Humph! Compassion's mighty fine;</p>
+<p class="i2">A gentle feeling, who would wish to shock it?</p>
+<p>But husbands out of work with children nine,</p>
+<p class="i2">Should pay their fines themselves&mdash;not from
+<i>your</i> pocket.</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+<hr />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="page100" id="page100"></a>[pg
+100]</span>
+<h3>KEPT IN TOWN.&mdash;A Lament.</h3>
+<div class="figright" style="width:20%;"><a href=
+"images/100.png"><img width="100%" src="images/100.png" alt=
+"KEPT IN TOWN." /></a></div>
+<div class="poem" style="margin-left:5%">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>The Season's ended; in the Park the vehicles are far and
+few,</p>
+<p>And down the lately-crowded Row one horseman canters on a
+screw</p>
+<p>By stacks of unperceptive chairs; the turf is burnt, the leaves
+are brown,</p>
+<p>stagnant sultriness prevails&mdash;the very air's gone out of
+town!</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Belgravia's drawn her blinds, and let her window-boxes run to
+seed;</p>
+<p>Street-urchins play in porticoes&mdash;no powdered menial there
+to heed;</p>
+<p>Now fainter grows the lumbering roll of luggage-cumbered
+omnibus:</p>
+<p>Bayswater's children all are off upon their annual exodus.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>On every hoarding posters flaunt the charms of peak, and loch,
+and sea,</p>
+<p>To madden those unfortunates who have to stay in town&mdash;like
+me!</p>
+<p>Gone are the inconsiderate friends who tell one airily, "They're
+off!"</p>
+<p>And ask "what <i>you</i> propose to do&mdash;yacht, shoot, or
+fish, or walk, or golf?"</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>On many a door which opened wide in welcome but the other
+day,</p>
+<p>The knocker basks in calm repose&mdash;conscious "the family's
+away."</p>
+<p>I scan the windows&mdash;half in hope I may some friendly face
+detect&mdash;</p>
+<p>To meet their blank brown-papered stare, depressing as the cut
+direct!</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>I pass the house where She is not, to feel an unfamiliar
+chill;</p>
+<p>That door is disenchanted now, that number powerless to
+thrill!</p>
+<p>'Twas there, in yonder balcony, that last July she used to
+stand;</p>
+<p>Upon some balcony, more blest, she's leaning now, in
+Switzerland,</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Her eyes upon rose-tinted peaks&mdash;but no, of sense I 'm
+quite bereft!</p>
+<p>The hour is full early yet, and <i>table d h&ocirc;te</i> she'll
+scarce have left.</p>
+<p>Some happy neighbour's handing her the salad&mdash;But I'll
+move, I think;</p>
+<p>I see a grim caretaker's eye regard me through the shutter's
+chink.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Yes, I'll away,&mdash;no longer be the sport of sentiment
+forlorn,</p>
+<p>But scale the heights of Primrose Hill, pretending it's the
+Matterhorn;</p>
+<p>Or hie me through the dusk to sit beside the shimmering
+Serpentine,</p>
+<p>And, with a little make-believe, imagine I am up the Rhine.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Alas! the poor device, I know, my restlessness will ne'er
+assuage:</p>
+<p>Still Fanny beats, with pinions clipped, the wires of its
+Cockney cage!</p>
+<p>No inch of turf to prisoned larks can represent the boundless
+moor;</p>
+<p>And neither Hyde nor Regent's Park suggests a Continental
+Tour!</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+<hr />
+<h2>VOCES POPULI.</h2>
+<h4>IN AN OMNIBUS.</h4>
+<p class="bracket"><i>The majority of the inside passengers, as usual, sit in
+solemn silence, and gaze past their opposite neighbours into
+vacancy. A couple of Matrons converse in wheezy whispers.</i></p>
+<p><i>First Matron.</i> Well, I must say a bus is pleasanter riding
+than what they used to be not many years back, and then so much
+cheaper, too. Why, you can go all the way right from here to Mile
+End Road for threepence!</p>
+<p><i>Second Matron.</i> What, all that way for
+threepence&mdash;(<i>with an impulse of vague humanity</i>.) The
+<i>poor</i> 'orses!</p>
+<p><i>First Matron.</i> Ah, well, my dear, it's Competition, you
+know,&mdash;it don't do to think too much of it.</p>
+<p><i>Conductor (stopping the bus).</i> Orchard Street, Lady.</p>
+<p><i>To</i> Second Matron, <i>who had desired to be put down
+there.</i></p>
+<p><i>Second Matron (to</i> Conductor). Just move on a few doors
+further, opposite the boot-shop. (<i>To</i> First Matron.) It will
+save us walking.</p>
+<p><i>Conductor.</i> Cert'inly, Mum, we'll drive in and wait while
+you 're tryin' 'em on, if you like&mdash;<i>we</i> ain't in no
+'urry!</p>
+<p><i>The</i> Matrons <i>get out, and their places are taken by two
+young girls, who are in the middle of a conversation of thrilling
+interest.</i></p>
+<p><i>First Girl.</i> I never liked her myself&mdash;ever since the
+way she behaved at his Mother's that Sunday.</p>
+<p><i>Second Girl.</i> How <i>did</i> she behave?</p>
+<p class="bracket"><i>[A faint curiosity is discernible amongst the other
+passengers to learn how she&mdash;whoever she is&mdash;behaved that
+Sunday.</i></p>
+<p>First Girl. Why, it was you <i>told</i> me! <i>You</i> remember.
+That night JOE let out about her and the automatic scent
+fountain.</p>
+<p><i>Second Girl.</i> Oh, yes, I remember now. <i>(General
+disappointment. )</i> I couldn't help laughing myself. Joe didn't
+ought to have told&mdash;but she needn't have got into such a state
+over it, <i>need</i> she?</p>
+<p><i>First Girl,</i> That was ELIZA all over. If GEORGE had been
+sensible, he'd have broken it off then and there&mdash;but no, he
+wouldn't hear a word against her, not at that time&mdash;it was the
+button-hook opened <i>his</i> eyes!</p>
+<p class="bracket"><i>[The other passengers strive to dissemble a frantic desire to
+know how and why this delicate operation was performed.</i></p>
+<p><i>Second Girl (mysteriously).</i> And enough too! But what put GEORGE off most
+was her keeping that bag so quiet.</p>
+<p class="bracket"><i>[The general imagination is once more stirred to its depths
+by this mysterious allusion.</i></p>
+<p><i>First Girl.</i> Yes, he did feel that, I know, he used to
+come and go on about it to me by the hour together. "I shouldn't
+have minded so much," he told me over and over again, with the
+tears standing in his eyes,&mdash;"if it hadn't been that the
+bottles was all silver-mounted!"</p>
+<p><i>Second Girl.</i> Silver-mounted? I never heard of <i>that</i>
+before&mdash;no wonder he felt hurt!</p>
+<p><i>First Girl (impressively).</i> Silver tops to everyone of
+them&mdash;and that girl to turn round as she did, and her with an
+Uncle in the oil and colour line, too&mdash;it nearly broke
+GEORGE'S 'art!</p>
+<p><i>Second Girl</i>. He's such a one to take on about
+things&mdash;but, as I said to him, "GEORGE," I says, "You must
+remember it might have been worse. Suppose you'd been married to
+that girl, and <i>then</i> found out about ALF and the Jubilee
+sixpence&mdash;how would <i>that</i> have been?"</p>
+<p><i>First Girl (unconsciously acting as the mouth-piece of the
+other passengers).</i> And what did he say to <i>that?</i></p>
+<p><i>Second Girl.</i> Oh, nothing&mdash;there was nothing he
+<i>could</i> say, but I could see he was struck. She behaved very
+mean to the last&mdash;she wouldn't send back the German
+concertina.</p>
+<p><i>First Girl.</i> You don't say so! Well, I wouldn't have
+thought that of her, bad as she is.</p>
+<p><i>Second Girl.</i> No, she stuck to it that it wasn't like a
+regular present, being got through a grocer, and as she couldn't
+send him back the tea, being drunk,&mdash;but did you hear how she
+treated EMMA over the crinoline 'at she got for her?</p>
+<p><i>First Girl (to the immense relief of the rest).</i> No, what
+was that?</p>
+<p><i>Second Girl.</i> Well, I had it from EMMA her own self. ELIZA
+wrote up to her and says, in a postscript like,&mdash;Why, this is
+Tottenham Court Road, I get out here. Good-bye, dear, I must tell
+you the rest another day.</p>
+<p class="bracket"><i>[Gets out, leaving the tantalised audience inconsolable, and
+longing for courage to question her companion as to the precise
+details of</i> ELIZA'S <i>heartless behaviour to</i> GEORGE. <i>The
+companion, however, relapses into a stony reserve. Enter a</i>
+Chatty Old Gentleman <i>who has no secrets from anybody, and of
+course selects as the first recipient of his confidence the one
+person who hates to be talked to in an omnibus.</i></p>
+<p><i>The Chatty O.G.</i> I've just been having a talk with the
+policeman at the corner there&mdash;what do you think I said to
+him?</p>
+<p><i>His Opposite Neighbour.</i> I&mdash;I really don't know.</p>
+<p><i>The C.O.G.</i> Well, I told him he was a rich man compared
+to me. He said, "I only get thirty shillings a week, Sir." "Ah," I
+said, "but look at your expenses, compared to mine. What would
+<i>you</i> do if you had to spend eight hundred a year on your
+children's education? I spend that&mdash;every penny of it,
+Sir.</p>
+<p><i>His Opp. N. (utterly uninterested).</i> Do you
+indeed?&mdash;dear me!</p>
+<p><i>C.O.G.</i> Not that I grudge it&mdash;a good education is a
+fortune in itself, and as I've always told my boys, they must make
+the best of it, for it's all they'll get. They're good enough lads,
+but I've had a deal of trouble with them one way and
+another&mdash;a <i>deal</i> of trouble. <i>(Pauses for some
+expression of sympathy&mdash;which does not come&mdash;and he
+continues:)</i> There are my two eldest sons&mdash;what must they
+do but fall in love with the same lady&mdash;the same lady. Sir!
+<i>(No one seems to care much for these domestic
+revelations&mdash;possibly because they are too obviously addressed
+to the general ear.)</i> And, to make matters worse, she was a
+married woman&mdash;<i>(his principal hearer looks another way
+uneasily)</i>&mdash;the wife of a godson of mine, which made it all
+the more awkward, y'know. (His Opposite Neighbour <i>giving no
+sign, the</i> C. O. G. <i>tries one Passenger after another.)</i>
+Well, I went to him&mdash;(here he fixes an old Lady, who
+immediately passes up coppers out of her glove to the
+Conductor)&mdash;went to him, and said&mdash;<i>(addressing a
+smartly dressed young Lady with a parcel, who giggles)</i>&mdash;I
+said, "You're a man of the world&mdash;so am I. Don't you take any
+notice," I told him&mdash;<i>(this to a callow young man, who
+blushes)</i>&mdash;"they're a Couple of young fools," I said, "but
+you tell your dear wife from me not to mind those boys of
+mine&mdash;they'll soon get tired of it if they're only let alone."
+And so they would have, long ago, it's my belief, if they'd met
+with no encouragement&mdash;but what can <i>I</i> do&mdash;it's a
+heavy trial to a father, you know. Then there's my third
+son&mdash;he must needs go and marry&mdash;<i>(to a Lady at his
+side with a reticule, who gasps faintly)</i>&mdash;some young woman
+who dances at a Music-hall&mdash;nice daughter-in-law that for a
+man in my position, eh? I've forbidden him the house of course, and
+told his mother not to have any communication with him&mdash;but I
+know, Sir,&mdash;<i>(violently, to a Man on his other side, who
+coughs in much embarrassment)</i>&mdash;I <i>know</i> she meets him
+once a week under the eagle in Orme Square, and <i>I</i> can't stop
+her! Then I'm worried about my daughters&mdash;one of 'em gave me
+no peace till <span class="pagenum"><a name="page101" id=
+"page101"></a>[pg 101]</span> I let her have some painting
+lessons&mdash;of course, I naturally thought the drawing-master
+would be an elderly man&mdash;whereas, as things turned
+out,&mdash;</p>
+<p><i>A Quiet Man in a Corner.</i> I 'ope you told all this to the
+Policeman, Sir?</p>
+<p><i>The C.O.G. (flaming unexpectedly).</i> No, Sir, I did
+<i>not</i>. I am not in the habit&mdash;whatever <i>you</i> may
+be&mdash;of discussing my private affairs with strangers. I
+consider your remark highly impertinent, Sir.</p>
+<p class="bracket">[<i>Fumes in silence for the rest of the journey.</i></p>
+<p><i>The Young Lady with the Parcel (to her friend&mdash;for the sake
+of vindicating her gentility).</i> Oh, my dear, I do feel so funny,
+carrying a great brown-paper parcel, in a bus, too! Anyone would
+take me for a shop-girl!</p>
+<p><i>A Grim Old Lady opposite.</i> And I only hope, my dear,
+you'll never be taken for anyone less respectable.</p>
+<p class="bracket">[<i>Collapse of</i> Genteel Y. L.</p>
+<p><i>The Conductor</i>. Benk, benk! <i>(he means "Bank")</i>
+'Oborn, benk! 'Igher up there, BILL, can't you?</p>
+<p><i>A Dingy Man smoking, in a Van.</i> Want to block up the ole
+o' the road, eh? That's right!</p>
+<p><i>The Conductor (roused to personality).</i> Go 'ome, Dirty
+DICK! syme old soign, I see,&mdash;"Monkey an' Pipe!" <i>(To
+Coachman of smart brougham which is pressing rather closely
+behind.)</i> I say, old man, don't you race after my bus like
+this&mdash;you'll only tire your 'orse.</p>
+<p class="bracket"><i>[The Coachman affects not to have heard.</i></p>
+<p><i>The Conductor (addressing the brougham horse, whose head is
+almost through the door of the omnibus).</i> 'Ere, '<i>ang</i> it
+all!&mdash;step insoide, if yer want to!</p>
+<p class="bracket"><i>[Brougham falls to rear</i>&mdash;<i>triumph of</i> Conductor
+<i>as Scene closes</i>.</p>
+<hr />
+<h2>IN THE KNOW.</h2>
+<p class="center"><i>(By Mr. Punch's Own Prophet.)</i></p>
+<div class="figleft" style="width:20%;"><a href=
+"images/101.png"><img width="100%" src="images/101.png" alt=
+"IN THE KNOW." /></a></div>
+<p>Readers of this journal will be surprised to learn that I am
+penning these lines from Blancheville, which as everybody, except
+the chief of the chowder-heads, knows is the most important town of
+one of the principal departments of France. Nothing but an
+overwhelming sense of what is due to myself, to my readers, and to
+my country, would have dragged me from the Metropolis at this
+season of the year. But a distinction was offered to me, a
+distinction so unique and so dazzling that I felt that it would not
+be fair to my fellow countrymen, of all ages, and of every party,
+if I failed to take advantage of it, and thus to present to the
+envious world the proud spectacle of an Englishman honoured by the
+great French nation. I will narrate the matter as briefly as is
+consistent with my respect for accuracy, and with my contempt for
+the tapioca-brained nincompoops who snarl, and chatter, and cackle
+at me in the organ of Mr. J. Last Friday I received this
+telegram:&mdash;</p>
+<p class="author"><i>Blancheville, Friday.</i></p>
+<p>The inhabitants of Blancheville, in public meeting assembled,
+felicitate you on stupendous success of all your prophecies.
+Desiring to honour you in the name of France, the mother of
+glorious heroes, and the eldest daughter of Liberty, they have
+awarded to you the Montyon prize for virtue, and have selected you
+as <i>Rosier en perp&eacute;tuit&eacute; de Blancheville</i>, a new
+post never before held by a man. Presentation on Sunday. Come at
+once.</p>
+<p class="author">
+<i>(Signed)</i>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;CARAMEL,
+<i>Maire de Blancheville.</i></p>
+<p>I started that evening. In the course of the following day I
+reached Blancheville. The people, in their holiday attire, were
+gathered in thousands at the railway station. M. CARAMEL,
+accompanied by the <i>Pr&eacute;fet</i> and the
+<i>Sous-Pr&eacute;fet,</i> all in their tricolor sashes, was the
+first to greet me. Saluting me on both cheeks, he called upon the
+world to witness that this was indeed a great day for Blancheville.
+My escort, under the command of General Count CROUTAUPOT, then
+formed up. I mounted the gilded Car of Victory, specially provided
+for the celebration, and, amidst the plaudits of the assembled
+millions, I was drawn by a specially-selected band of <i>Enfants de
+la Patrie</i> (a sort of body-guard, composed entirely of the
+French aristocracy) to the palace, which had been prepared for my
+reception. At the banquet, in the Town Hall, the healths of the
+QUEEN and of M. CARNOT were followed by a lengthy speech, in
+English, from my brother CARAMEL (we have sworn fraternity), in
+which he declared that the centuries looked down and redazed in
+this joice, and that it was a delight for him to carry a toast to
+the illustrious visitor who had deigned to come to Blancheville. On
+the following day the ceremony took place. I transcribe and
+translate from <i>Le Petit Colporteur de Blancheville</i>, the
+chief local journal, an account of what took place.</p>
+<p>"On this day, so great and glorious for our France, it is not
+possible to refrain from tears of joy and satisfaction. We have
+made him <i>Rosier en perp&eacute;tuit&eacute; de Blancheville</i>,
+him the proudest and most sympathetic writer who has dazzled Europe
+since the great and illustrious PLUMEAU" (a local author of repute)
+"departed from us. The history of this day must be written. Let us
+essay to do it as it should be done. In the early morning twelve
+selected maidens, robed in muslin and lilies, sang the <i>Tocsin de
+la Patrie</i> outside the Palace where our guest reposed. Soon
+afterwards he himself appeared in flowing white garments, and
+showered blessings upon their heads. He descended. He entered the
+four-in-hand-teams which the <i>Maire</i> had, as a compliment to
+England, made up with a <i>char-&agrave;-banc</i> of the
+neighbourhood. Thus he was drawn to the Market Place, where some of
+our bravest veterans fired in his honour a thundering salute. The
+beautiful and admirable Madame CARAMEL then advanced to him with a
+wreath of roses in her hand. She crowned him with it, saying, 'Wear
+this for Blancheville. Nobly hast thou earned it.' With difficulty
+the illustrious author preserved his calm. A tear sparkled in his
+eye. He bent low, and in a voice choked with emotion, thanked the
+citizens of our town. Then mounting on a milk-white steed, and
+surrounded by the young men of the district, he received from the
+<i>Pr&eacute;fet</i> the Prix Montyon for virtue."</p>
+<p>The rest is too flattering. I am hastening home. The QUEEN has
+been graciously pleased to permit me to wear the Prix Montyon at
+Court. Can a man want more?</p>
+<p>Yours, in all humility,</p>
+<p class="author">LE ROSIER DE BLANCHEVILLE.</p>
+<hr />
+<h3>A PUFF AT WHITEHALL.</h3>
+<p class="center"><i>(A piece of extravagance faintly suggestive of
+a Scene from "The Critic.")</i><br />
+Lord GEORGE PUFF <i>and</i> Sir JOHN BULL <i>discovered attending a
+rehearsal of the Naval Estimates.</i></p>
+<p><i>Lord George.</i> And now I pray your particular attention,
+Sir JOHN, as this is the best thing in my play&mdash;it is a
+spectacular effect called the Summer Manoeuvres.</p>
+<p><i>Sir John.</i> And no doubt costly, Lord GEORGE?</p>
+<p><i>Lord George.</i> You are right, Sir JOHN, as you will have an
+opportunity of finding out&mdash;hereafter. But to the argument. It
+is supposed that the British Fleet is at war with, indeed, the
+British Fleet.</p>
+<p><i>Sir John.</i> A very clever idea.</p>
+<p><i>Lord George.</i> I flatter myself it is, and novel too. It is
+true that occasionally the ships comprising the British Fleet have
+run into one another in the past just as if they had been at war,
+but then they were avowedly at peace, and now they are undoubtedly
+the reverse. Do you take my meaning?</p>
+<p><i>Sir John.</i> Well, not clearly. How do you show that the
+British Fleet is at war with the British Fleet?</p>
+<p><i>Lord George.</i> Ah, there comes in my art, and I think you
+will confess I have a very pretty wit. You see I divide the British
+Fleet into two parts&mdash;one part represents the enemy and the
+other part represents itself like the House of Commons, a most
+representative body. That is clear, I hope?</p>
+<p><i>Sir John.</i> Certainly&mdash;one is the British Fleet, and
+the other is not the British Fleet. But is there no bond of
+union?</p>
+<p><i>Lord George.</i> Most assuredly there is&mdash;you pay for
+both. But, pardon me, I beg you will not further interrupt me. So,
+now that we have the two Fleets face to face, or, I should say, bow
+to starn, we proceed exactly as if there were a real quarrel
+between them. We spend money on coal, we spend money on pay, we
+spend money on ammunition. Nay, by my life, we spend money on
+everything&mdash;just as we should do if war were really declared!
+That's simple enough.</p>
+<p><i>Sir John.</i> I confess your plan <i>does</i> seem
+simple.</p>
+<p><i>Lord George.</i> And there is more behind. We are not
+satisfied with merely spending money&mdash;we learn a lesson as
+well. Come, you must confess <i>that</i> surprises you?</p>
+<p><i>Sir John.</i> Well, I admit that generally, where there is
+any spending of money, it is <i>I</i> who learn the lesson.</p>
+<p><i>Lord George.</i> Good&mdash;distinctly good! But let us be
+serious. Well, when we are carrying on a war by every means in our
+power, we fancy that one Fleet is chasing the other. They both have
+equal speed, and we give one Fleet twenty-four hours' start of the
+other, and will you believe me that, although the first follows the
+second as fast as may be from the beginning to the end of the
+manoeuvring, they never see one another! On my life&mdash;never!
+They never see the British Fleet, because it's not in sight!</p>
+<p><i>Sir John</i>. But could you not have learned all this without
+so great an expenditure of money?</p>
+<p><i>Lord George.</i> Well, no, Sir JOHN&mdash;not at the
+Admiralty!</p>
+<p><i>Sir John.</i> And how do you end the farce?</p>
+<p><i>Lord George.</i> In the usual fashion, Sir JOHN <i>(ignites
+blue fire)</i>&mdash;in smoke!</p>
+<p><i>[The characters are lost in the fog customary to the
+occasion.<br />
+Curtain.</i></p>
+<hr />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="page102" id="page102"></a>[pg
+102]</span>
+<div class="figcenter" style="width:100%;"><a href=
+"images/102.png"><img width="100%" src="images/102.png" alt=
+"A SEVERE SABBATARIAN." /></a>
+<h3>A SEVERE SABBATARIAN.</h3>
+<p><i>Mr. Bung (Landlord of "Ye Pygge and Whistle").</i> "SUNDAY
+LEAGUE, INDEED! <i>I'D</i> SUNDAY LEAGUE 'EM, IF I'D A
+CHANCE!&mdash;BREAKIN' THE LORD'SD'Y, AND HINTERFERIN' WITH MY
+TRYDE!"</p>
+</div>
+<hr />
+<h3>"SHADOWED!"</h3>
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Shadowed! Ay, even in the holiday season,</p>
+<p class="i2">The Statesman, in his hard-earned hour of ease,</p>
+<p>Is haunted by forebodings, and with reason.</p>
+<p class="i2">What is that spectre the tired slumberer sees?</p>
+<p>The foul familiar lineaments affright him;</p>
+<p class="i2">Its pose of menace and its pointing hand</p>
+<p>To caution urge, to providence invite him,</p>
+<p class="i2">To foil this scourge of the Distressful Land.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Who does <i>not</i> fear to speak of Forty-Seven,</p>
+<p class="i2">When that same Shadow darkened all the isle?</p>
+<p>Is <i>it</i> abroad once more? Avert it, Heaven!</p>
+<p class="i2">On Order's lips it chills the dawning smile;</p>
+<p>Awakener of hushed fears and hatreds dying,</p>
+<p class="i2">Blighter of more than Nature's genial growth,</p>
+<p>Herald of hungering lips, of children crying,</p>
+<p class="i2">To hold thee imminent all hearts are loth.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Vain holiday nepenthe, sport's unbending,</p>
+<p class="i2">The Statesman's burdened brain may not forget.</p>
+<p>His cares are ceaseless and his toils unending,</p>
+<p class="i2">Memories embarrass and forebodings fret.</p>
+<p>The gun, the golf-club, and the rod avail not</p>
+<p class="i2">In his tired heart to make full holiday;</p>
+<p>E'en amidst pastime he must watch, and fail not,</p>
+<p class="i2">Approaching ills, the shadows on the way.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Shadowed! And not by common gloom, poor Minister!</p>
+<p class="i2">The passing shades that chequer every course.</p>
+<p>This spectral presence is as stern and sinister</p>
+<p class="i2">As <i>atra cura</i> on the rider's horse.</p>
+<p>Before, the vision of the helpless peasant!</p>
+<p class="i2">Behind, the famine phantom black and grim!</p>
+<p>How should the holiday-hour, to all so pleasant,</p>
+<p class="i2">Bring gladness true or genuine rest to him?</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Wake! There is need for provident prevision,</p>
+<p class="i2">For watchful eye, and for most wary hand.</p>
+<p>In mellow Autumn's interlude Elysian</p>
+<p class="i2">The old grim Shadow strikes across the land.</p>
+<p>May Heaven arrest its course, avert its terror,</p>
+<p class="i2">And keep the Statesman who this foe must fight</p>
+<p>From careless blindness and from blundering error,</p>
+<p class="i2">Such as of old lent aid to the Black Blight.</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+<hr />
+<h4>"Jack Sheppard Reversed."</h4>
+<p>This is the title of an amusing article in last week's
+<i>Saturday Review</i>. It is not the story of JACK SHEPPARD once
+more done into rhyme. The title so happily selected is thoroughly
+justified by the doings of an eccentric and original burglar, who,
+broke <i>into</i> a prison! This certainly was JACK SHEPPARD
+reversed with a vengeance! The hero of the escapade is said to be a
+tinted native of Barbadoes&mdash;his portrait should be published
+as a companion to the "penny plain" of his prototype as "twopence
+coloured."</p>
+<hr />
+<h4>Cardinal Manning's Precedence.</h4>
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>It does not need heraldic lore</p>
+<p class="i2">The Cardinal's place to find.</p>
+<p>Of course he'll always come before</p>
+<p class="i2">The ones who are behind.</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+<hr />
+<h3>THE PHAGOCYTE.</h3>
+<p class="center"><i>(The Story of a Blood Feud.)</i></p>
+<blockquote>
+<p class="note">[A microscopist has found an organism called the
+Phagocyte in the blood, which pursues and devours the Bacilli.]</p>
+</blockquote>
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Strange the tale that Science tells.</p>
+<p>Here are some devouring cells:</p>
+<p>Ever watchful night and day,</p>
+<p>They the vile Bacillus slay;</p>
+<p>Wot we well he fears the bite</p>
+<p>Of the guardian Phagocyte.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Hour by hour the fight goes on,</p>
+<p>Till the silent battle's won;</p>
+<p>Vainly do Bacilli shirk</p>
+<p>When their deadly foe's at work;</p>
+<p>Every microbe faints with fright</p>
+<p>At the fearsome Phagocyte.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Should the Phagocyte not keep</p>
+<p>Faithful ward, but go to sleep;</p>
+<p>Then Bacillus, in high glee,</p>
+<p>Works his will on you and me;</p>
+<p>Danger would be ours to-night,</p>
+<p>But for that same Phagocyte.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Such a tale of Science seems</p>
+<p>Like the offspring of wild dreams;</p>
+<p>Fiction surely, in good sooth,</p>
+<p>Can invent no tale like truth.</p>
+<p>Stranger story none could write</p>
+<p>Than this of the Phagocyte.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>The Astronomer descries</p>
+<p>Worlds on worlds beyond our eyes;</p>
+<p>'Neath the microscope weird things</p>
+<p>Erst unseen whirl round in rings;</p>
+<p>Hence it is that we indite</p>
+<p>Stanzas to the Phagocyte.</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+<hr />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="page103" id="page103"></a>[pg
+103]</span>
+<div class="figcenter" style="width:100%;"><a href=
+"images/103.png"><img width="100%" src="images/103.png" alt=
+"SHADOWED!" /></a>
+<h3>"SHADOWED!"</h3>
+</div>
+<hr />
+<!--Blank page 104-->
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="page105" id="page105"></a>[pg
+105]</span>
+<div class="figcenter" style="width:100%;"><a href=
+"images/105.png"><img width="100%" src="images/105.png" alt=
+"A SPECULATIVE OFFER." /></a>
+<h3>A SPECULATIVE OFFER.</h3>
+<p><i>Driver.</i> "NOW, TOM, WHEN WE ARRIVE AT THE TURN, I'LL SELL
+YOU THE DOG-CART FOR A SOV!"</p>
+</div>
+<hr />
+<h2>MR. PUNCH'S SWIM ROUND THE WORLD.</h2>
+<p class="center"><i>(From his own Prophetic Log-book.)</i></p>
+<p><i>Herne Bay.</i>&mdash;The weather being extremely favourable,
+I jumped off the end of the new pier, and, getting the benefit of
+the flood tide, passed the Nore and inspected Southend. Swimming
+quite easily, assisted by one or two short rests.</p>
+<p><i>Margate.</i>&mdash;Beached this popular seaside place a few
+hours later. Swam out of sight of the sands to rid myself of a view
+of the excursion riff-raff thereon congregated. Sea completely
+smooth, but cold. Took a nip of &mdash;&mdash;'s English
+Cognac.</p>
+<p><i>Ramsgate.</i>&mdash;Very pleased to find myself abreast of
+the Royal Crescent, which seemed delightful. Cape Grisnez still
+bearing N.E. by E. Munched one of &mdash;&mdash;'s excellent
+Birchrod Biscuits.</p>
+<p><i>Dover.</i>&mdash;Just had a good long rest in front of
+Clarence Lawn, which glistened in the sunlight. Greatly refreshed
+after a drink of &mdash;&mdash;'s Essence of Gravy beef.</p>
+<p><i>Calais.</i>&mdash;A shower of rain came on at this point.
+However, one of &mdash;&mdash;'s excellent umbrellas kept my head
+dry, and, being easy to hold, did not prevent me from swimming and
+writing up my log.</p>
+<p><i>Gibraltar.</i>&mdash;I felt very fatigued going through the
+Bay of Biscay, but recovered much of my strength off the fortress
+by sucking one of &mdash;&mdash;'s capital Kill-cough Lozenges.</p>
+<p><i>Malta.</i>&mdash;I have now been in the water six days and
+three nights continuously, and yet am nearly as fresh as when I
+started. I attribute this marvellous fact to my practice of sipping
+&mdash;&mdash;'s Essence of Coffeetine.</p>
+<p><i>Aden.</i>&mdash;Water extremely hot, but am still confident
+of success. Went to sleep for an hour in the Red Sea, smoking one
+of &mdash;&mdash;'s Anti-alligator cigarettes, which are a real
+preventive against crocodile annoyance.</p>
+<p><i>Madras.</i>&mdash;Am continuing my side-stroke but somewhat
+languidly. I half regretted that I was unable to go on shore to see
+the Indian curiosities. Much refreshed after partaking of the
+contents of &mdash;&mdash;'s Patent Luncheon Basket.</p>
+<p><i>Singapore.</i>&mdash;Have now been continually in the water
+for six weeks. Regret that my log should be so "scrappy," but my
+time just now is very much occupied by other things. Tired, but
+confident of success. During the last fortnight have fed with great
+relish upon &mdash;&mdash;'s <i>Pur&eacute;e de foies gras.</i> It
+is not only cheap, but excellent.</p>
+<p><i>New Hebrides.</i>&mdash;Am now within measurable distance of
+the end of my journey. Quite accustomed to the water. However,
+greatly fatigued, and very pleased to eat some of &mdash;&mdash;'s
+Alimentary Condiment.</p>
+<p><i>Pitcairn Island.</i>&mdash;Glad to be again in these
+latitudes. My strokes are now very feeble. I should have to give in
+were it not for &mdash;&mdash;'s Medicated Mutton Broth, which
+seems to be most nourishing.</p>
+<p><i>Cape Town.</i>&mdash;In a fainting condition. Scarcely able
+to hold this pen. Became better after eating &mdash;&mdash;'s
+Digestible Plum Puddings, sold in tin canisters at 1s. 10d. per
+pound.</p>
+<p><i>Rio Janeiro.</i>&mdash;Terribly hot and exhausted. I have now
+been three months continuously in the water, which is certainly a
+long time. Much amused with a toy called &mdash;&mdash;'s
+Mechanical Rabbit.</p>
+<p><i>Cape Verde Islands.</i>&mdash;Almost unconscious from
+fatigue. However, I can swim more easily after I have drunk a glass
+or two of &mdash;&mdash;'s Cabbage Rose Temperance Non-Intoxicating
+Sherry. It is a most admirable beverage.</p>
+<p><i>Madeira.</i>&mdash;I move with the greatest difficulty, and
+fear I must be sinking. I obtain great strength from an occasional
+sip of &mdash;&mdash;'s "Beef-fibre" (title registered) which seems
+to me worth twice its weight in gold.</p>
+<p><i>Dublin.</i>&mdash;Have now been in the water continuously for
+nearly half a year. Too feeble to look at Dublin. I am evidently
+sinking, and can only keep off a relapse by eating &mdash;&mdash;'s
+Patent Vegetable Substitute for Roast Pork.</p>
+<p><i>Herne Bay.</i>&mdash;Returned dead&mdash;quite dead! Restored
+to life by inhaling &mdash;&mdash;'s Vitality Producer.</p>
+<p>N.B.&mdash;The above blanks will be filled up with real names.
+For particulars apply at 85, Fleet Street Advertisement
+Department.</p>
+<hr />
+<h4>A Black Business.</h4>
+<p>As stated in the <i>Daily Telegraph</i> of Thursday last, the
+Russian Censor stamped out <i>Mr. Punch's</i> Cartoon, "From Nile
+to Neva," and obliterated the verses. The <i>St. James's
+Gazette</i> suggested that the Cartoon was thus reproduced in
+Whistlerian fashion. It certainly is a study in black, without any
+relief whatever. A Black business indeed! Who shall correct the
+Censor Incensed? Even <i>Mr. Punch</i> himself would be chary about
+visiting Petersburg, lest he should be "bound in Russia,"&mdash;and
+sent to Siberia.</p>
+<hr />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="page106" id="page106"></a>[pg
+106]</span>
+<div class="figcenter" style="width:100%;"><a href=
+"images/106.png"><img width="100%" src="images/106.png" alt=
+"IMITATION THE SINCEREST FLATTERY." /></a>
+<h3>IMITATION THE SINCEREST FLATTERY.</h3>
+<i>(Effects of a Long Session in the House.)</i></div>
+<hr />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="page107" id="page107"></a>[pg
+107]</span>
+<h2>WHAT THE TAME RABBIT SAID TO THE GRAND OLD GARDENER.</h2>
+<p class="center"><i>(Some way after "Alice in
+Wonderland.")</i></p>
+<p>"The work of Major MORANT is headed <i>Profitable Rabbit
+Farming. (Laughter.)</i> Yes, that is a subject for merriment,
+probably, on account of its comparative novelty, but it is also a
+subject of satisfaction, which is akin to merriment, because this
+rabbit-farming appears to be a very good and promising description
+of pursuit.... That is the raising of tame rabbits."&mdash;<i>Mr.
+Gladstone at the Hawarden Floral and Horticultural Society's
+Show.</i></p>
+<div class="figright" style="width:50%;"><a href=
+"images/107.png"><img width="100%" src="images/107.png" alt=
+"AMONG THE BUNNIES." /></a>
+<h4>AMONG THE BUNNIES.</h4>
+</div>
+<p><i>These were the verses the Tame Rabbit recited</i>:&mdash;</p>
+<div class="poem" style="margin-left:5%">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>The Grand Old Man was on the stir;</p>
+<p class="i2">MORANT named me to him;</p>
+<p>He gave me a good character;</p>
+<p class="i2">I thought his meaning dim.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>He held me up; they thought it fun!</p>
+<p class="i2">And laughed; he chid their glee.</p>
+<p>If he should push this matter on,</p>
+<p class="i2">What will become of Me?</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>He said I was a paying game,</p>
+<p class="i2">Commending me as such.</p>
+<p>That's the result of being tame,</p>
+<p class="i2">And living in a hutch.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>My notion is that it is vain</p>
+<p class="i2">For you, you Grand Old Fella,</p>
+<p>To rave of rabbits in the rain,</p>
+<p class="i2">Beneath a big umbrella.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Don't let them know <i>we</i> fatten best,</p>
+<p class="i2">For this should ever be</p>
+<p>A secret kept from all the rest,</p>
+<p class="i2">Between yourself and me!</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+<br clear="all" />
+<hr />
+<h2>LITERATURE AND LOTTERY.</h2>
+<p class="center"><i>(By a Patron of the Popular Press.)</i></p>
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Yes, I've "a literary taste,"</p>
+<p class="i2">And patronise a weekly journal;</p>
+<p>'Tis what is called <i>Scissors and Paste</i>,</p>
+<p class="i2">The paper's poor, the print's infernal.</p>
+<p>But what of that, when, week by week,</p>
+<p class="i2">High at the sight of it hope rises?</p>
+<p>What in my Magazine I seek</p>
+<p class="i2">Is just&mdash;a medium for Prizes!</p>
+<p>I can't be bothered to read much,</p>
+<p class="i2">I like my literature in snippets.</p>
+<p>My hope is, with good luck, to clutch</p>
+<p class="i2">Villas, gold watches, sable tippets.</p>
+<p>A coupon and some weekly pence</p>
+<p class="i2">Give me a chance of an annuity.</p>
+<p>Oh, the excitement is intense!</p>
+<p class="i2">I read with ardent assiduity,</p>
+<p><i>Not</i> what the poor ink-spillers say</p>
+<p class="i2">In sparkling "par," or essay solemn;</p>
+<p>No, what I read, with triumph gay</p>
+<p class="i2">Or hope deferred, is&mdash;the Prize Column!</p>
+<p>On prose my time I seldom waste,</p>
+<p class="i2">And poetry is poor and pottery.</p>
+<p>But oh! I have an ardent taste</p>
+<p class="i2">For Literature when linked with Lottery!</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+<hr />
+<h3>ROBERT'S LITTLE HOLLERDAY.</h3>
+<p>My hollerday, or sum of it, was spent in Hopen Spaces. Hif
+anybody as has got two eyes in his hed, and a hart in his buzzom,
+wants for to see what can be done with about 40 hakers of
+land&mdash;witch the most respecfool Gardiner told me was about the
+size of the Queen's Park at Kilburn&mdash;let him go there on a
+fine Summer's Arternoon, and see jest about five thowsen children a
+playing about there, all free, and hindependent, and appy, with two
+fountings to drink when they're ot and thirsty, and a nice littel
+Jim Nasyum to climb up and down. They ain't allowed to play at
+Cricket coz there ain't not room enuf, but I did see two bold
+littel chaps, about six a peace, a breaking of the Law, and a
+playing at the forbidden game, with a jacket for the wicket and a
+stick for a Bat, and the kind-arted Gardiner hadn't got hart enuff
+to stop 'em.</p>
+<p>He told me as how, when the Copperashun fust took possesshun of
+it, it was nothink but a Baron Swomp, but that, what with the
+spending of lots of money, and the souperintending genus of Major
+MAKENZIE, in two years it was maid to blossom like a rose. I spent
+a werry plessant arternoon there, and drove home in style on the
+Box Seat of a reel Company's Bus. The nex day I went to Higate
+Wood, another of the grate works of the good old Copperashun. And
+lawks, what a difference! No swarms of children a playing about on
+the grass, but lots and lots on 'em a racing about among the
+hundreds of trees, and their warious fathers and mothers a looking
+on with smiling faces and prowd looks. There is one place in the
+werry middle of the Wood where no less than sewen parths meets, and
+there the Copperashun Committee has bilt up a bewtifool Founting,
+and a long hinskripshun in praise of Water, tho I shood dout if
+they speaks from werry much pussonal xperience. I was told as how,
+when they fust hopened the Founting, the Chairman made a bewtifool
+speech, and ended by saying, "Water, brite Water for me, and Wine
+for the trembling Debborshee," and then they all went off to a
+jolly good dinner.</p>
+<p>With that artistick taste as so distinguishes 'em, they have
+crissened the place where the seven roads meets, "The Seven Dials."
+There was crowds of peeple there, all enjoying of themselves in a
+nice quiet way, and altogether it was a werry werry nice site.</p>
+<p>The werry next day I started in the warm sunshine for pretty
+West Ham Park, and had a leetle adwenture as ushal, for jest as I
+got there who shoud I meet but the rayther sillybrated Parson of
+the Parish&mdash;tho' judgin by aperiences I shoud have took him
+for the Bishop of ESSEX&mdash;and seeing me in my new Hat and my
+best black Coat, he werry naterally took me for a inquiring
+Wisitor, and told me all about the good deed of the Copperashun in
+saving the Park for the good of the Peeple. There was some werry
+little chaps a playing Cricket as before despite of the Law, and
+they had a reel bat too, and one on 'em, seeing me a looking on
+apruvingly, gave the ball such a tremenjus blow that he got a
+tooer, so I called out braywo!</p>
+<p>There seemed a lot of washing going on jest outside the Park,
+the white shirts and settera, flustering gaily in the breeze. But,
+as the Poet says, "they're allus Washing somewheres in the World!"
+The common peeple was orderd to walk on the footpaths, but a
+gardiner told me as them orders was not ment for such as me. I had
+a most copious Lunch for tuppense in the helegant Pawillion, and
+being in a jowial and ginerus mood, I treated six of the jewwenile
+natives to a simmeler Bankwet. Then there is the sillibrated Band
+as the Copperashun perwides twice a week, on which occasions
+reserwed seats is charged a penny each. The werry adwanced state of
+the musical taste of the nayberhood may be judged by the fact, that
+at a Concert close by, a "Ode to a Butterfly" was to be played on a
+base Trombone!</p>
+<p>The Gardiner told me as there was such a crowd of children on
+larst Bank Hollerday that there was hardly room to move about, tho'
+the Park is 80 hakers big; but as I am told that such a space wood
+hold about 80 thousand, quite cumferal, I thinks as he must have
+slitely xadgerated.</p>
+<p class="author">ROBERT.</p>
+<hr />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="page108" id="page108"></a>[pg
+108]</span>
+<h3>A STRIKING NURSERY RHYME.</h3>
+<p class="center"><i>(With a Moral.)</i></p>
+<div class="poem" style="margin-left:35%">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Tilbury, Tilbury Dock!</p>
+<p>The men struck&mdash;on a rock;</p>
+<p class="i2">For their U-ni-on</p>
+<p class="i2">Said, "Wrong you have done!"</p>
+<p>Tilbury, Tilbury Dock!</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Tilbury, Tilbury scare!</p>
+<p>This "Striking" seems in the air.</p>
+<p class="i2">Conciliation</p>
+<p class="i2">Should free the nation</p>
+<p>From Tilbury, Tilbury scare!</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+<hr />
+<h2>THE PROFESSIONAL GUEST.</h2>
+<h4>AT THE SEA-SIDE.</h4>
+<div class="figleft" style="width:45%;"><a href=
+"images/108.png"><img width="100%" src="images/108.png" alt=
+"AT THE SEA-SIDE." /></a></div>
+<p>DEAR MR. PUNCH,&mdash;When I last wrote to you I was
+anticipatorily revelling in the sea-bathing, tennis tournaments,
+pier band, and evening promenades of Flatsands. Alas! that I must
+confess it, but, after a fortnight's visit to that "salubrious
+spot" (<i>vide</i> highly-coloured advertisements), I give it as my
+opinion that Flatsands is a failure; and I think that, when you
+have listened to, or rather perused, my tale of woe, you will agree
+with me that it is a place to be avoided at all costs.</p>
+<p>On the difficulties and length of my journey thither (I changed
+five times, and spent nine hours in doing so), I will not dwell,
+neither will I lay stress on the fact that, when I did at last
+reach my destination, a prospect void of either Aunt, or conveyance
+of any kind, met my view, or that a heavy sea-mist had gathered,
+and was falling in the guise of penetrating, if fine, rain. After
+parleying with the station-master for some time, I ascertained that
+the station 'bus never put in an appearance in wet weather, and
+that I could not get a closed fly, because the Flatsands'
+conveyances were all pony-traps, and therefore hoodless. He,
+however, directed me towards Balmoral, which was my Aunt's address,
+and told me that ten minutes' walk would take me, and that my
+luggage should be sent after me, on a truck.</p>
+<p>After some difficulty, for the sea-fog was very thick, I
+discovered Balmoral, but not my Aunt. The truculent-looking
+proprietor of the house, who answered the door, condescended to
+inform me that my relative "was the difficultest lady he'd ever had
+to do for. And that she'd left two days a-gone." But where she had
+betaken herself to, he either would not or could not tell me.
+"You'd best try along this row," he said, and then slammed the door
+in my face. Having nothing better to do, I followed his advice, and
+"tried along the row." I rang at Osborne, Sandringham, and Windsor.
+I knocked at Claremont (the bell was broken there), and walked
+boldly into Marlborough House, for that royal residence in
+particular was devoid of all ordinary means of heralding one's
+approach. I was just giving up my quest in despair, when through
+the rain, which was now falling heavily, I spied a small stucco
+villa standing shrinkingly back behind a row of palings, which, in
+spite of their green paint, looked more like domestic fire-sticks
+than anything else. The somewhat suggestive name of Frogmore was
+inscribed on the small gate, and I remembered that I quite shivered
+as I walked up the sloppy path, with my usual inquiry ready to
+hand. This time, though, I was right, and when, a few minutes
+later, I was sitting before a roaring fire, imbibing hot tea, and
+listening to my Aunt's account of her latest complaint (did I tell
+you she was hypochondriacal?) I felt that really and at last I was
+in for a pleasant visit.</p>
+<p>The evening proved a short one, for Aunt retired at nine, for
+which I was not sorry, as by that time the atmosphere of the
+sitting-room was distinctly stuffy, and neither dinner, nor the
+fumes of the invalid's hot-and-strong "night-cap" improved it. Next
+morning I sympathised with her on the fact that, soon after she had
+gone to bed, the young lady on the drawing-room floor (for two
+other families shared Frogmore's roof with us) had begun to sing,
+and had continued her performances till midnight; but I found my
+commiseration wasted, for she said that it had soothed her, which
+was considerably more than it had done me. After
+breakfast&mdash;which was late, on account of Aunt's health&mdash;I
+proposed a stroll on the Promenade, or an inspection of the tennis
+courts. "Bless my soul!" cried Auntie, "a person in my state of
+health does not go to places all over promenades and tennis courts.
+You won't find any such things at a nice quiet resort like
+Flatsands." I felt a little dashed, but replied "that perhaps she
+was right, and that it was a nice change to be without tennis; and
+that, as to promenades, they were quite superfluous where there was
+a pier, and a good band." "A pier, child!" she screamed. "You won't
+find any such abominations as piers here, or German bands either.
+Do you think that <i>I</i> should come anywhere where there was a
+pier?" I felt the smile on my face becoming fixed, but I mastered
+my feelings sufficiently to murmur something about bathing before
+lunch.</p>
+<p>"You can't bathe here," snapped Aunt&mdash;"they don't allow it.
+The shore is too dangerous. But you can come out with me, if you
+like, to the tradespeople&mdash;I see my bath-chair coming along
+the road."</p>
+<p>And that, <i>Mr. Punch</i>, is how I spent my fortnight at
+Flatsands. Walking by the side of my Aunt's chair, and giving
+orders to the tradespeople in the morning; walking beside the same
+chair and blowing up the tradespeople for not having carried out
+the orders, in the afternoon; sitting in a hot room from five to
+nine o'clock, then lying awake till midnight, listening to the
+drawing-room young lady singing Italian and German songs out of
+tune, and with an English accent.</p>
+<p>Three things only occurred to in any way vary the monotony of my
+existence. The first was the arrival of the singing young lady's
+brother. He was seventeen, and his lungs were as thick as his
+boots. He tobogganed down-stairs on a tea-tray the first day he
+arrived; the second day he passed me in the hall and asked, with a
+grin, "if I was one of the mummies in this old mausoleum?" the
+third day he left, saying that the place was "too jolly beastly
+slow" for him. The second event was the sudden extraordinary mania
+that Aunt (did I tell you she was rich?) took for the singing lady.
+I discovered, much to my chagrin, I must say, that often, instead
+of going to bed at nine, as I believed she did, she used to
+ensconce herself in the drawing-room, and there sit and listen to
+indifferent music till all hours. It was this second event which
+brought about the third excitement. For having been a little
+imprudent one night, in the matter of "night-caps," or careless as
+to draughts, my Aunt was taken seriously ill. At least she chose to
+think herself so, though I now have vague suspicions that the
+singing lady knew more about it all than she cared to tell. All I
+know is that the doctor was sent for, and that, after a long confab
+in the sick room, he came to me and ordered my immediate return
+home. "Your poor Aunt requires perfect quiet," he said.</p>
+<p>Having no choice in the matter, I packed my boxes; not exactly
+with reluctance, but still with an uncomfortable feeling of being
+wanted out of the way. Aunt's last words to me rather confirmed my
+suspicions. "Ah! you are off, are you? Well, I may pull through
+this time&mdash;I think I feel better already." Then, with a
+pecking kiss, and an inaudible remark anent the ingratitude of
+relations, she dismissed me. As I left the house I distinctly heard
+that singing creature run up-stairs and into Aunt's room.</p>
+<p>On the way back to town I decided that she (Aunt I mean) was
+right&mdash;relations are <i>disgustingly</i> ungrateful.</p>
+<p class="author">Yours, much hurt,
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; THE
+ODD GIRL OUT.</p>
+<hr />
+<h4>To the Champion (Cricket) County.</h4>
+<div class="poem" style="margin-left:25%">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p><i>"Skilful Surrey's sage commands."</i></p>
+<p class="i2">There is a cue from WALTER SCOTT!</p>
+<p>(<i>Not</i> Surrey's "WALTER.") <i>Punch</i> claps hands,</p>
+<p class="i2">And sings out, "Bravo, SHUTER'S Lot!"</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+<hr />
+<h3>THEATRICAL PROBABILITIES.</h3>
+<p>New pieces by HENRY AUTHOR JONES, author of <i>Judah, The
+Deacon, &amp;c.:&mdash;The Archbishop; The Salvationist, or
+Boothiful for Ever! The Rural Dean</i> (a pastoral play); <i>The
+Chorister</i>, a stirring drama, showing how a Chorister struggled
+with his conscience. Of course the Rev. Mr. WILLARD will have the
+principal part in each piece. Then there will be special nights for
+the Ministers of all denominations. There will be a
+<i>Matin&eacute;e</i> of <i>Precedence</i>, to which Cardinal
+MANNING and all his clergy will be invited. After the play is over,
+the Right Reverend Dr. WILLARD will preach a sermon to the
+Cardinal, on his duties generally.</p>
+<p>As long as only the orthodox witness these performances all will
+go well. But what a first night that will be when the Right
+Reverend Dr. WILLARD and the Reverend HENRY AUTHOR JONES find that
+some play has been produced in the presence of an audience composed
+entirely of Dissenters! <i>Absit omen!</i> This may never happen if
+only serious persons in orders, or rather with orders, are
+admitted.</p>
+<hr class="full" />
+<div class="figleft" style="margin-bottom:10em"><img src=
+"images/108-1.png" alt="pointer" /></div>
+<p>NOTICE.&mdash;Rejected Communications or Contributions, whether
+MS., Printed Matter, Drawings, or Pictures of any description, will
+in no case be returned, not even when accompanied by a Stamped and
+Addressed Envelope, Cover, or Wrapper. To this rule there will be
+no exception.</p>
+<hr class="full" />
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+<pre>
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Punch, or the London Charivari, Vol.
+99, August 30, 1890., by Various
+
+*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PUNCH ***
+
+***** This file should be named 12378-h.htm or 12378-h.zip *****
+This and all associated files of various formats will be found in:
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@@ -0,0 +1,1905 @@
+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Punch, or the London Charivari, Vol. 99,
+August 30, 1890., 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. 99, August 30, 1890.
+
+Author: Various
+
+Release Date: May 18, 2004 [EBook #12378]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PUNCH ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Malcolm Farmer, Sandra Brown and the Online Distributed
+Proofreading Team.
+
+
+
+
+
+PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.
+
+VOL. 99.
+
+
+
+August 30, 1890.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration]
+
+"WHY NOT LIVE OUT OF LONDON?"
+
+    SIR,--Capital subject recently started _Daily Telegraph_, with
+    the above title. Just what I've been saying to my wife for
+    years past. "Why don't _you and the family_ live out of
+    London," I have asked. And she has invariably replied, "Oh,
+    yes, and what would _you_ be doing in London?" I impress upon
+    her that being the "bread-winner" (beautiful word, this!) my
+    duty is to be on the spot where the bread is won. I prove
+    to her, in figures, that it is much cheaper for her and the
+    family to live out of town, and for me to come down and
+    see them, occasionally. Isn't it cheaper for one to go to a
+    theatre than four? Well, this applies everywhere all round.
+    With my Club and a good room I could get on very well and very
+    reasonably in London, and in the country my wife and family
+    _would positively save enormously_ by my absence, _as only the
+    necessaries of life would be required_. Dressing would be next
+    to nothing, so to speak, and they'd be out of reach of the
+    temptations which London offers to those who love theatre
+    entertainments, lunches at pastrycooks', shows, and shopping.
+    Yes, emphatically, I repeat, "Why not live out of London?"
+    _But she won't._
+
+    Yours,
+
+    ONE IN A THOUSAND.
+
+
+    SIR,--"Why not live out of London?" Of course. I _do_ live
+    "out of London," and make a precious good living too out of
+    London. My friends the Butcher, the Baker, the Greengrocer
+    (not a very green grocer either), the Tailor, the Shoemaker,
+    &c., &c., all say the same as
+
+    Yours cheerily,
+
+    CHARLES CHEDDAR _(Cheesemonger)._
+
+
+    SIR,--I only wish everybody I don't want to see _in_ London
+    would live _out of it_. What a thrice blessed time August
+    would be then! Though indeed I infinitely appreciate small
+    mercies _now_. At all events, most people are away, my Club is
+    not closed, and I can enjoy myself pretty thoroughly.
+
+    Yours,
+
+    _Elbow Room Club_.
+
+    BEAU WINDER.
+
+
+    SIR,--"Why not live out of London?" _Because one can't._ Out
+    of London there is only "existence." Is life worth living
+    anywhere except in London--and Paris; if you happen to be
+    there? No, no; those who like living "out of London," had
+    better not live at all.
+
+    Yours,
+
+    HIPPY CURE.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+MR. PUNCH'S DICTIONARY OF PHRASES.
+
+PRIVATE THEATRICALS.
+
+"_Tisn't a part that I_ feel, _and I fear I shall make a failure;"
+i.e.,_ "Easy as be blowed, but _I_'m thrown away upon it."
+
+
+TRADE EMBELLISHMENTS.
+
+"_The Ching-Twangs Central China Tea Company's selected growth of
+Early Green Leaf Spring Pickings;" i.e.,_ "A damaged cargo and last
+year's rotten sweepings, mingled with chipped broom, dried cabbage,
+and other equally suitable and inviting ingredients."
+
+
+AT LUNCHEON.
+
+"_No more, indeed, really;" i.e.,_ "Had nothing to eat--but more of
+_that_ stuff? No, thank you."
+
+
+ELECTIONEERING.
+
+"_The Leaders to whom the Nation owes its recent period of
+prosperity": i.e.,_ "Gentlemen who have unavoidably remained in Office
+during the revival of Trade."
+
+"_Having every personal respect for my opponent;" i.e.,_ "I now
+proceed to blacken his political character."
+
+
+IN THE SMOKING-ROOM.
+
+"_You know I always hate long arguments;" i.e.,_ "Don't deprive me of
+my pet diversion."
+
+"_No; I don't exactly see what you mean;" i.e.,_ "_You_ don't; but the
+admission on my part looks candid."
+
+"_My dear fellow, ask_ anyone _who really knows anything;" i.e._ "You
+appear to live among a half-educated set of local faddists."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+'ARRY ON 'ARRISON AND THE GLORIOUS TWELFTH.
+
+  DEAR CHARLIE,--No Parry for me, mate, not this season leastways--wus
+                   luck!
+  At the shop I'm employed in at present, the hands has all bloomin'
+                   well struck.
+  It's hupset all our 'olidays, CHARLIE, and as to my chance of a
+                   rise
+  Wot do _you_ think, old pal? I'm fair flummoxed, and singing, _Oh,
+                   what a surprise!_
+
+  These Strikes is becoming rare noosances, dashed if they ain't,
+                   dear old boy.
+  They're all over the shop, like Miss ZAEO, wot street-kids seems so
+                   to enjoy.
+  Mugs' game! They'll soon find as the Marsters ain't goin' to be
+                   worried and welched,
+  And when they rob coves of their 'olidays, 'ang it, they ought to
+                   be squelched.
+
+  'Owsomever, I'm mucked, that's a moral. This doosid dead-set
+                   against Wealth
+  Is a sign o' the times as looks orkud, and bad for the national
+                   'ealth.
+  There ain't nothink the nobs is fair nuts on but wot these 'ere
+                   bellerers ban.
+  Wy, they're down upon Sport, now, a pelter. Perposterous, ain't it,
+                   old man?
+
+  Bin a reading FRED 'ARRISON'S kibosh along o' "The Feast of
+                   St. Grouse,"
+  On the "Glorious Twelfth," as he calls it; wen swells is fair shut
+                   of the 'Ouse,
+  Its Obstruction, and similar 'orrors, in course they hikes off to
+                   the Moors.
+  Small blame to 'em, CHARLIE, small blame to 'em, spite of the prigs
+                   and the boors!
+
+  Yet this 'ARRISON he sets _his_ back up. Dry smug as can't 'andle
+                   a gun,
+  I'll bet Marlboro' 'Ouse to a broomstick, and ain't got no notion
+                   of Fun.
+  "Loves the Moors much too well for to carry one;" that's wot _he_
+                   says, sour old sap
+  Bet my boots as he can't 'it a 'aystack at twenty yards rise--eh,
+                   old chap?
+
+  _Him_ sweet on the heather, my pippin, or partial to feather
+                   and fur,
+  So long as yer never _kills_ nothink? Sech tommy-rot gives me
+                   the spur.
+  Yah! Scenery's all very proper, but where is the genuine pot
+  Who'd pad the 'oof over the Moors, if it weren't for the things
+                   to be shot?
+
+  "This swagger about killing birds is mere cant," sez this wobbling
+                   old wag.
+  From Arran he'd tramp to Dunrobin without the least chance of a bag!
+  "Peaceful hills," that's his patter, my pippin; no gillies, no
+                   luncheons, no game!
+  Wy, he ought to be tossed in a blanket; it fills a true Briton
+                   with shame.
+
+  No Moors for yours truly, wus luck! It won't run to it, CHARLIE,
+                   this round;
+  But give me my gun, and a chance, and I'll be in the swim, I'll
+                   be bound.
+  I did 'ave a turn some years back, though I only went out with
+                   'em once,
+  And I shot a bit wild, as was likely, fust off, though yer _may_n't
+                   be a dunce.
+
+  My rig out was a picter they told me--deer-stalker and knickers
+                   O.K.--
+  "BRIGGS, Junior," a lobsculler called me; I wasn't quite fly to
+                   his lay;
+  But BRIGGS or no BRIGGS I shaped spiffin, in mustard-and-mud-colour
+                   checks.
+  Ah! them Moors is the spots for cold Irish, and gives yer the
+                   primest of pecks.
+
+  Talk of sandwiges, CHARLIE, oh scissors, I'd soon ha' cleaned out
+                   Charing Cross,
+  With St. Pancrust and Ludgit chucked in; fairly hopened the eye of
+                   the boss;
+  Him as rented the shootings, yer know, big dry-salter in Thames
+                   Street, bit warm
+  In his langwige occasional, CHARLIE, but 'arty and reglar good form.
+
+  Swells will pal in most anywhere now on the chance of a gratis
+                   Big Shoot,
+  And there _wos_ some Swells with hus, I tell yer, I felt on the
+                   good gay galoot,
+  But I fancy I got jest a morsel screwdnoodleous late in the day,
+  For I peppered a bloke in the breeks; he swore bad, but 'twas
+                   only his play.
+
+  Bagged a brace and a arf, I did, CHARLIE; not bad for a novice
+                   like me.
+  Jest a bit blown about the fust two; wanted gathering up like,
+                   yer see.
+  A bird do look best with his 'ed on, dear boy, as a matter of taste;
+  And the gillies got jest a mite scoffy along of my natural 'aste.
+
+  Never arsked me no more, for some reason. But wot I would say is
+                   this here,
+  'ARRY's bin in this boat in his time, as in every prime lark pooty
+                   near,
+  And when 'ARRISON talks blooming bunkum, with hadjectives spicy and
+                   strong,
+  About Sport being stupid, and noisy, and vulgar; wy, 'ARRISON'S wrong!
+
+  _He_ would rather shoot broken-down cab-horses,--so the mug tells
+                   us--than birds.
+  Well, they're more in his line very likely; that means, in his own
+                   chosen words,
+  He's more fit for a hammytoor knacker than for that great boast of
+                   our land,
+  A true British Sportsman! Great Scott! It's a taste as I _carnt_
+                   understand.
+
+  Fact is this here FRED is a Demmycrat, Positivist, and all that.
+  There's the nick o' the matter, the reason of all this un-English
+                   wild chat.
+  He is down on the Aristos, CHARLIE, this 'ARRISON is. It's the Court
+  And the pick o' the Peerage Sport nobbles, and that's wy he sputters
+                   at Sport.
+
+  All a part of the game, dear old pal, the dead-set at the noble and
+                   rich.
+  "Smart people" are "Sports," mostly always, and 'ARRISON slates
+                   them as sich.
+  'Ates killing of "beautiful creatures," and spiling "the Tummel
+                   in spate"
+  With "drives," champagne luncheons, and gillies? _That_'s not wot
+                   sich slab-dabbers 'ate.
+
+  It's "Privileged Classes," my pippin, they loathes. Yer can't own a
+                   big Moor,
+  Or even rent one like my dry-salter friend, if yer 'umble and poor.
+  Don't 'ARRISON never _eat_ grouse? Ah, you bet, much as ever he'll
+                   carry.
+  There's "poz" for a Posit'vist, mate, there's 'ARRISON kiboshed
+                   by 'ARRY.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration: OUR YOTTING YORICK.
+
+YOTTING JOTTINGS.]
+
+Oh dear! oh dear! What perils I have been through! You'll see me again
+shortly; but there have been _momentums_ in my career when I said
+to myself, "Shall I ever _aller_ out of this alive!" I escaped the
+Petersburg police; they punched out your Cartoon, and all the lines
+about the Czar and the Jews; that's why I was so persecuted, and why
+I was watched. I wish to Heaven you wouldn't have Cartoons about Czars
+and Jews just when I'm at Peterborough, I mean Petersburg; same name,
+different place. But there, that's all over now, and _jamais_ will I
+go and put myself within the clutches of the Russian Bear again. The
+midnight sun must do without _me_ in future. I send you a sketch
+I made of a gargle--I think that's the name--on a church-door in
+Lapland. Isn't it really droll? You're always bothering me for
+something droll, and _now you've got it_. Then, _Mr. Punch_, riding
+a reindeer at half-a-crown an hour. Then here are the little Lapps
+offering our sailors a lap of liquor; and I said to myself, "One touch
+of Nature," which struck me as just the very motto for the picture. I
+roared with laughter at it. "This'll do for 'em at home," I said, and
+so here it is. And look at the "Lapps of Luxury"! You know that "Lap
+of Luxury" is a proverbial phrase; and, as you told me to make some
+comic sketches of the manners and customs of the country, why, I've
+done so; and, if they ain't funny, I don't know what humour is.
+_Voila!_
+
+But you really must not expect me to grimace and buffoon. You must
+take me _seriatim_ or not at all. I can't stand on my head to sketch.
+I can't do it. I nearly _did_ do it, though, for when I had my
+sketching-book in my hand on board, the spanker-boom, or some such
+thing, came over suddenly and hit me such a whack on the head, that
+for two minutes I lay insensible, and thought I should never become
+sensible again. Rightly is it called "spanker-boom,"--that is if it
+_is_ called so, or some name very like it,--for I never got such a
+whack on the head in all my life before. I hear the Booming still in
+my ears.
+
+You can't expect a fellow to be funny, however funny he may _feel_
+(and I _did_ feel uncommonly funny, you may take your oath!), under
+such circumstances. However, as the song says, "Home once more,"
+and many a yarn shall I have to tell when I gather myself round the
+fireside, pipe all hands for grog, and sing you an old Norse song
+with real humour in it--though I dare say _you'll_ say you don't see
+it--and so no more _a present_ from yours seasickly (I am quite well,
+but I mean I'm sick of the sea),
+
+FLOTSAM, Y.A.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+JOURNAL OF A ROLLING STONE.
+
+FIFTH ENTRY.
+
+Curious thing that to-day--after disappointment of failure for the
+Bar--letter comes from President of my old College, asking me "if I
+would accept a nice Tutorship for a time?" If so, "I had better come
+down and talk to him about it."
+
+Decided a little time ago not to try "Scholastic Profession"--thought
+it would try _me_ too much. Feel tempted now. _Query_--am I losing my
+old pluck? In consequence of my new "pluck,"--in the Bar Exam?
+
+"Um!" remarks the President (I _have_ run down and got a vacant
+bed-room in College). "Glad to see you. Oh, yes, about that tutorship.
+Um, um! The family live in Somerset." He mentions the county
+apologetically, as if he expected me to reply--"Oh, Somerset! Couldn't
+dream of going _there_. Not very particular, but must have a place
+within ten miles of Charing Cross." As I don't object to Somerset, at
+least audibly, he goes on more cheerfully--
+
+"Boy doesn't want to be taught much, so perhaps, it would suit
+you."--(_Query_--is this insulting?)--"He wants a companion
+more--somebody to keep him steady, have a good influence and all that,
+and give him a little classics and so on for about an hour a day."
+
+It did not sound as bad as I expected.
+
+"Rich people--um--merchants at Bristol, I think. Not very cultivated,
+though." Here President pauses again, and looks as if he would not be
+at all astonished if I rose from my chair, put on my hat, and said,
+"Not very cultivated! That won't suit _me_! You see how tremendously
+cultivated _I_ am." But I don't, and he proceeds calmly to another
+head of his discourse.
+
+"They haven't mentioned terms, but I'm sure they will be
+satisfactory--give you what you ask, in fact." (Rather a nice trait
+in their character, this.)--"Now, will you--um--take it? They want
+somebody at once."
+
+"Yes," I reply; "I'll go and see how I fancy it. Have they got a
+billiard-table, do you happen to know?"
+
+The President says, "he doesn't know anything about _that_," and looks
+a little surprised, as if I had proposed a game of skittles.
+
+On way down (next day) I feel rather like a Governess going to her
+first situation. Get to house late. Too dark to see what it's like.
+Have to drive up in a village fly. _Query_--Oughtn't they to have sent
+their carriage for me?
+
+My reception is peculiar. A stout, masculine-looking female with a
+strident voice, is presumably Mrs. BRISTOL MERCHANT.
+
+Sends me up to my bed-room as if I were my own luggage. Evidently very
+"uncultivated."
+
+In my bed-room. Above are the sounds of a small pandemonium,
+apparently. Stamping, falling, shouting, bumping, crying. What a lot
+of them there must be!
+
+There are! At supper--they appear to have early dinners, which I
+detest--three boys and one girl present, as a sample. Eldest a youth
+about ten, who puts out his tongue at me, when he thinks I'm not
+looking, and kicks his brothers beneath the table to make them cry,
+which they do. I begin to wonder when my real pupil will appear.
+
+Governess talks to me as if I were a brother professional.
+_Query--infra dig_. again?
+
+Children, being forbidden to talk in anything but French at meals, say
+nothing at all; at the end I am astounded at Materfamilias catching
+hold of the boy of ten, and bringing him round to me, with the
+remark,--
+
+"Perhaps you'd like to talk to ERNIE about lessons."
+
+Heavens! This nursery fledgling to be my pupil! And I am to be his
+"companion"! Fledgling, while standing in front of me for inspection,
+has the audacity to stretch out his leg, and trip up a little sister
+who is passing. Howls ensue.
+
+A nicely-mannered youth!
+
+"You will have to behave yourself with _me_, young man!" I warn him,
+in a tone which ought to abash him, but doesn't in the least.
+
+"Ah, but perhaps you won't stay here long," is his rather able
+rejoinder. "Our Governesses never--"
+
+"ERNIE!" shrieks his mother, threateningly. ERNIE stops; and I have
+time to regret my folly in not inquiring of the President the precise
+age of my promising disciple, very likely President didn't know
+himself.
+
+The other boys who were at supper are now presented to me. One is
+about eight, the other not more than six.
+
+"These are HERBIE and JACK," says their mother, who ought to know.
+Thank Heaven, _they_ are not my pupils!
+
+Mrs. BRISTOL MERCHANT horrifies me by saying--
+
+"I thought it would be so nice, when you were teaching ERNIE, _if_
+HERBIE _and_ JACK _could be taught too!_ And after lessons you will
+be able to take them such nice long walks in the neighbourhood! It's
+really very pretty country, Mr.--I forget your name."
+
+Oh, certainly, the President was quite right. She _is_ very
+uncultivated. That ever I was born to cultivate her--or her precious
+offspring! But was I? Time must show.
+
+[Illustration: SARTORIAL EUPHUISMS.
+
+"MEASUREMENTS ABOUT THE SAME AS THEY USED TO BE, SNIPPE?"
+
+"YES, SIR. CHEST A TRIFLE _LOWER DOWN_, SIR, THAT'S ALL!"]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+AN ARGUMENTUM AD POCKETUM.
+
+    [The Rev. B. MEREDYTH-KITSON called the attention of the
+    London School Board to the action of Mr. MONTAGU WILLIAMS,
+    who, being appealed to by "a respectable-looking woman" for
+    the remission of a fine of five shillings imposed upon her
+    husband for neglecting to send their children to school, gave
+    her five shillings out of the poor-box to pay it, on finding
+    that she had nine children, the eldest fifteen years, the
+    youngest five months, a husband out of work, and "no boots
+    for her children to go to school in." The Rev. STEWART HEADLAM
+    said that in East London they suffered a good deal through
+    the decisions of Mr. MONTAGU WILLIAMS, who constantly paid the
+    fines from the poor-box, or out of his own pocket!]
+
+  Oh, MONTAGU, this conduct is nefarious!
+    _You_ are, indeed, a pretty Magistrate!
+  Better the judgments, generous, if precarious,
+    Of the old Cadi at an Eastern gate.
+  No wonder that you madden MEREDTTH-KITSON,
+    And stir the bitter bile of STEWART HEADLAM.
+  When Justice, School-Board ruling simply "sits on,"
+    School-Boards become a mere annexe of--Bedlam!
+  Nine children! Husband out of work! No boots!
+    And do you really think that _these_ are reasons
+  For fine-remission? This strikes at the roots
+    Of Law, which ought to rule us at all seasons.
+  Oh, how shall KITSON educate the "kids,"
+    Or how shall HEADLAM discipline the mothers,
+  If you, instead of doing what Law bids,
+    Pay the poor creatures' fines and raise up bothers?
+  Law, Sir, is Law, even to Magistrates,
+    Not a mere chopping-block for maudlin charity.
+  Fining the impecunious doubtless grates
+    On feelings such as yours; there's some disparity
+  'Twixt School-Board Draconism, and regard
+    For parents penniless, and children bootless;
+  But pedagogues--ask HEADLAM--must be hard,
+    Or pedagogy's purposes are fruitless.
+  Poor creatures? Humph! Compassion's mighty fine;
+    A gentle feeling, who would wish to shock it?
+  But husbands out of work with children nine,
+    Should pay their fines themselves--not from _your_ pocket.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+KEPT IN TOWN.-A LAMENT.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+  The Season's ended; in the Park the vehicles are far and few,
+  And down the lately-crowded Row one horseman canters on a screw
+  By stacks of unperceptive chairs; the turf is burnt, the leaves are
+  brown, stagnant sultriness prevails--the very air's gone out of town!
+
+  Belgravia's drawn her blinds, and let her window-boxes run to seed;
+  Street-urchins play in porticoes--no powdered menial there to heed;
+  Now fainter grows the lumbering roll of luggage-cumbered omnibus:
+  Bayswater's children all are off upon their annual exodus.
+
+  On every hoarding posters flaunt the charms of peak, and loch, and sea,
+  To madden those unfortunates who have to stay in town--like me!
+  Gone are the inconsiderate friends who tell one airily, "They're off!"
+  And ask "what _you_ propose to do--yacht, shoot, or fish, or walk,
+  or golf?"
+
+  On many a door which opened wide in welcome but the other day,
+  The knocker basks in calm repose--conscious "the family's away."
+  I scan the windows--half in hope I may some friendly face detect--
+  To meet their blank brown-papered stare, depressing as the cut direct!
+
+  I pass the house where She is not, to feel an unfamiliar chill;
+  That door is disenchanted now, that number powerless to thrill!
+  'Twas there, in yonder balcony, that last July she used to stand;
+  Upon some balcony, more blest, she's leaning now, in Switzerland,
+
+  Her eyes upon rose-tinted peaks--but no, of sense I 'm quite bereft!
+  The hour is full early yet, and _table d hote_ she'll scarce have left.
+  Some happy neighbour's handing her the salad--But I'll move, I think;
+  I see a grim caretaker's eye regard me through the shutter's chink.
+
+  Yes, I'll away,--no longer be the sport of sentiment forlorn,
+  But scale the heights of Primrose Hill, pretending it's the Matterhorn;
+  Or hie me through the dusk to sit beside the shimmering Serpentine,
+  And, with a little make-believe, imagine I am up the Rhine.
+
+  Alas! the poor device, I know, my restlessness will ne'er assuage:
+  Still Fanny beats, with pinions clipped, the wires of its Cockney cage!
+  No inch of turf to prisoned larks can represent the boundless moor;
+  And neither Hyde nor Regent's Park suggests a Continental Tour!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+VOCES POPULI.
+
+IN AN OMNIBUS.
+
+_The majority of the inside passengers, as usual, sit in solemn
+silence, and gaze past their opposite neighbours into vacancy. A
+couple of Matrons converse in wheezy whispers._
+
+_First Matron._ Well, I must say a bus is pleasanter riding than what
+they used to be not many years back, and then so much cheaper, too.
+Why, you can go all the way right from here to Mile End Road for
+threepence!
+
+_Second Matron._ What, all that way for threepence--(_with an impulse
+of vague humanity_.) The _poor_ 'orses!
+
+_First Matron._ Ah, well, my dear, it's Competition, you know,--it
+don't do to think too much of it.
+
+_Conductor (stopping the bus)._ Orchard Street, Lady.
+
+_To_ Second Matron, _who had desired to be put down there._
+
+_Second Matron (to_ Conductor). Just move on a few doors further,
+opposite the boot-shop. (_To_ First Matron.) It will save us walking.
+
+_Conductor._ Cert'inly, Mum, we'll drive in and wait while you 're
+tryin' 'em on, if you like--_we_ ain't in no 'urry!
+
+_The_ Matrons _get out, and their places are taken by two young girls,
+who are in the middle of a conversation of thrilling interest._
+
+_First Girl._ I never liked her myself--ever since the way she behaved
+at his Mother's that Sunday.
+
+_Second Girl._ How _did_ she behave?
+
+_[A faint curiosity is discernible amongst the other passengers to
+learn how she--whoever she is--behaved that Sunday.
+
+First Girl._ Why, it was you _told_ me! _You_ remember. That night JOE
+let out about her and the automatic scent fountain.
+
+_Second Girl._ Oh, yes, I remember now. _(General disappointment. )_ I
+couldn't help laughing myself. Joe didn't ought to have told--but she
+needn't have got into such a state over it, _need_ she?
+
+_First Girl,_ That was ELIZA all over. If GEORGE had been sensible,
+he'd have broken it off then and there--but no, he wouldn't hear a
+word against her, not at that time--it was the button-hook opened
+_his_ eyes!
+
+_[The other passengers strive to dissemble a frantic desire to know
+how and why this delicate operation was performed._ Second Girl
+(mysteriously)_. And enough too! But what put GEORGE off most was her
+keeping that bag so quiet.
+
+_[The general imagination is once more stirred to its depths by this
+mysterious allusion._
+
+_First Girl._ Yes, he did feel that, I know, he used to come and go
+on about it to me by the hour together. "I shouldn't have minded so
+much," he told me over and over again, with the tears standing in his
+eyes,--"if it hadn't been that the bottles was all silver-mounted!"
+
+_Second Girl._ Silver-mounted? I never heard of _that_ before--no
+wonder he felt hurt!
+
+_First Girl (impressively)._ Silver tops to everyone of them--and that
+girl to turn round as she did, and her with an Uncle in the oil and
+colour line, too--it nearly broke GEORGE'S 'art!
+
+_Second Girl_. He's such a one to take on about things--but, as I said
+to him, "GEORGE," I says, "You must remember it might have been worse.
+Suppose you'd been married to that girl, and _then_ found out about
+ALF and the Jubilee sixpence--how would _that_ have been?"
+
+_First Girl (unconsciously acting as the mouth-piece of the other
+passengers)._ And what did he say to _that?_
+
+_Second Girl._ Oh, nothing--there was nothing he _could_ say, but
+I could see he was struck. She behaved very mean to the last--she
+wouldn't send back the German concertina.
+
+_First Girl._ You don't say so! Well, I wouldn't have thought that of
+her, bad as she is.
+
+_Second Girl._ No, she stuck to it that it wasn't like a regular
+present, being got through a grocer, and as she couldn't send him back
+the tea, being drunk,--but did you hear how she treated EMMA over the
+crinoline 'at she got for her?
+
+_First Girl (to the immense relief of the rest)._ No, what was that?
+
+_Second Girl._ Well, I had it from EMMA her own self. ELIZA wrote up
+to her and says, in a postscript like,--Why, this is Tottenham Court
+Road, I get out here. Good-bye, dear, I must tell you the rest another
+day.
+
+_[Gets out, leaving the tantalised audience inconsolable, and longing
+for courage to question her companion as to the precise details of_
+ELIZA'S _heartless behaviour to_ GEORGE. _The companion, however,
+relapses into a stony reserve. Enter a_ Chatty Old Gentleman _who has
+no secrets from anybody, and of course selects as the first recipient
+of his confidence the one person who hates to be talked to in an
+omnibus._
+
+_The Chatty O.G._ I've just been having a talk with the policeman at
+the corner there--what do you think I said to him?
+
+_His Opposite Neighbour._ I--I really don't know.
+
+_The C.O.G._ Well, I told him he was a rich man compared to me. He
+said, "I only get thirty shillings a week, Sir." "Ah," I said, "but
+look at your expenses, compared to mine. What would _you_ do if you
+had to spend eight hundred a year on your children's education? I
+spend that--every penny of it, Sir.
+
+_His Opp. N. (utterly uninterested)._ Do you indeed?--dear me!
+
+_C.O.G._ Not that I grudge it--a good education is a fortune in
+itself, and as I've always told my boys, they must make the best of
+it, for it's all they'll get. They're good enough lads, but I've had
+a deal of trouble with them one way and another--a _deal_ of trouble.
+_(Pauses for some expression of sympathy--which does not come--and he
+continues:)_ There are my two eldest sons--what must they do but fall
+in love with the same lady--the same lady. Sir! _(No one seems to care
+much for these domestic revelations--possibly because they are too
+obviously addressed to the general ear.)_ And, to make matters worse,
+she was a married woman--_(his principal hearer looks another way
+uneasily)_--the wife of a godson of mine, which made it all the more
+awkward, y'know. (His Opposite Neighbour _giving no sign, the_ C. O.
+G. _tries one Passenger after another.)_ Well, I went to him--(here he
+fixes an old Lady, who immediately passes up coppers out of her glove
+to the_ Conductor)--went to him, and said--_(addressing a smartly
+dressed young Lady with a parcel, who giggles)_--I said, "You're a man
+of the world--so am I. Don't you take any notice," I told him--_(this
+to a callow young man, who blushes)_--"they're a Couple of young
+fools," I said, "but you tell your dear wife from me not to mind those
+boys of mine--they'll soon get tired of it if they're only let alone."
+And so they would have, long ago, it's my belief, if they'd met with
+no encouragement--but what can _I_ do--it's a heavy trial to a father,
+you know. Then there's my third son--he must needs go and marry--_(to
+a Lady at his side with a reticule, who gasps faintly)_--some young
+woman who dances at a Music-hall--nice daughter-in-law that for a man
+in my position, eh? I've forbidden him the house of course, and
+told his mother not to have any communication with him--but I know,
+Sir,--_(violently, to a Man on his other side, who coughs in much
+embarrassment)_--I _know_ she meets him once a week under the eagle
+in Orme Square, and _I_ can't stop her! Then I'm worried about my
+daughters--one of 'em gave me no peace till I let her have some
+painting lessons--of course, I naturally thought the drawing-master
+would be an elderly man--whereas, as things turned out,--
+
+_A Quiet Man in a Corner._ I 'ope you told all this to the Policeman,
+Sir?
+
+_The C.O.G. (flaming unexpectedly)._ No, Sir, I did _not_. I am not
+in the habit--whatever _you_ may be--of discussing my private affairs
+with strangers. I consider your remark highly impertinent, Sir.
+
+[_Fumes in silence for the rest of the journey.
+
+The Young Lady with the Parcel (to her friend--for the sake of
+vindicating her gentility)._ Oh, my dear, I do feel so funny, carrying
+a great brown-paper parcel, in a bus, too! Anyone would take me for a
+shop-girl!
+
+_A Grim Old Lady opposite._ And I only hope, my dear, you'll never be
+taken for anyone less respectable.
+
+[_Collapse of_ Genteel Y. L.
+
+_The Conductor_. Benk, benk! _(he means "Bank")_ 'Oborn, benk! 'Igher
+up there, BILL, can't you?
+
+_A Dingy Man smoking, in a Van._ Want to block up the ole o' the road,
+eh? That's right!
+
+_The Conductor (roused to personality)._ Go 'ome, Dirty DICK! syme
+old soign, I see,--"Monkey an' Pipe!" _(To Coachman of smart brougham
+which is pressing rather closely behind.)_ I say, old man, don't
+you race after my bus like this--you'll only tire your 'orse. _[The
+Coachman affects not to have heard._
+
+_The Conductor (addressing the brougham horse, whose head is almost
+through the door of the omnibus)._ 'Ere, '_ang_ it all!--step insoide,
+if yer want to!
+
+_[Brougham falls to rear_--_triumph of_ Conductor _as Scene closes_.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+IN THE KNOW.
+
+_(By Mr. Punch's Own Prophet.)_
+
+[Illustration]
+
+Readers of this journal will be surprised to learn that I am penning
+these lines from Blancheville, which as everybody, except the chief
+of the chowder-heads, knows is the most important town of one of the
+principal departments of France. Nothing but an overwhelming sense of
+what is due to myself, to my readers, and to my country, would have
+dragged me from the Metropolis at this season of the year. But a
+distinction was offered to me, a distinction so unique and so dazzling
+that I felt that it would not be fair to my fellow countrymen, of all
+ages, and of every party, if I failed to take advantage of it,
+and thus to present to the envious world the proud spectacle of an
+Englishman honoured by the great French nation. I will narrate the
+matter as briefly as is consistent with my respect for accuracy, and
+with my contempt for the tapioca-brained nincompoops who snarl,
+and chatter, and cackle at me in the organ of Mr. J. Last Friday I
+received this telegram:--
+
+_Blancheville, Friday._
+
+The inhabitants of Blancheville, in public meeting assembled,
+felicitate you on stupendous success of all your prophecies. Desiring
+to honour you in the name of France, the mother of glorious heroes,
+and the eldest daughter of Liberty, they have awarded to you the
+Montyon prize for virtue, and have selected you as _Rosier en
+perpetuite de Blancheville_, a new post never before held by a man.
+Presentation on Sunday. Come at once.
+
+_(Signed)_
+
+CARAMEL, _Maire de Blancheville._
+
+I started that evening. In the course of the following day I reached
+Blancheville. The people, in their holiday attire, were gathered
+in thousands at the railway station. M. CARAMEL, accompanied by the
+_Prefet_ and the _Sous-Prefet,_ all in their tricolor sashes, was
+the first to greet me. Saluting me on both cheeks, he called upon the
+world to witness that this was indeed a great day for Blancheville. My
+escort, under the command of General Count CROUTAUPOT, then formed
+up. I mounted the gilded Car of Victory, specially provided for the
+celebration, and, amidst the plaudits of the assembled millions, I was
+drawn by a specially-selected band of _Enfants de la Patrie_ (a sort
+of body-guard, composed entirely of the French aristocracy) to the
+palace, which had been prepared for my reception. At the banquet, in
+the Town Hall, the healths of the QUEEN and of M. CARNOT were followed
+by a lengthy speech, in English, from my brother CARAMEL (we have
+sworn fraternity), in which he declared that the centuries looked down
+and redazed in this joice, and that it was a delight for him to
+carry a toast to the illustrious visitor who had deigned to come
+to Blancheville. On the following day the ceremony took place. I
+transcribe and translate from _Le Petit Colporteur de Blancheville_,
+the chief local journal, an account of what took place.
+
+"On this day, so great and glorious for our France, it is not possible
+to refrain from tears of joy and satisfaction. We have made him
+_Rosier en perpetuite de Blancheville_, him the proudest and most
+sympathetic writer who has dazzled Europe since the great and
+illustrious PLUMEAU" (a local author of repute) "departed from us.
+The history of this day must be written. Let us essay to do it as it
+should be done. In the early morning twelve selected maidens, robed in
+muslin and lilies, sang the _Tocsin de la Patrie_ outside the Palace
+where our guest reposed. Soon afterwards he himself appeared in
+flowing white garments, and showered blessings upon their heads. He
+descended. He entered the four-in-hand-teams which the _Maire_ had,
+as a compliment to England, made up with a _char-a-banc_ of the
+neighbourhood. Thus he was drawn to the Market Place, where some of
+our bravest veterans fired in his honour a thundering salute. The
+beautiful and admirable Madame CARAMEL then advanced to him with a
+wreath of roses in her hand. She crowned him with it, saying, 'Wear
+this for Blancheville. Nobly hast thou earned it.' With difficulty the
+illustrious author preserved his calm. A tear sparkled in his eye. He
+bent low, and in a voice choked with emotion, thanked the citizens of
+our town. Then mounting on a milk-white steed, and surrounded by the
+young men of the district, he received from the _Prefet_ the Prix
+Montyon for virtue."
+
+The rest is too flattering. I am hastening home. The QUEEN has been
+graciously pleased to permit me to wear the Prix Montyon at Court. Can
+a man want more? Yours, in all humility,
+
+LE ROSIER DE BLANCHEVILLE.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+A PUFF AT WHITEHALL.
+
+_(A piece of extravagance faintly suggestive of a Scene from "The
+Critic.")_
+
+Lord GEORGE PUFF _and_ Sir JOHN BULL _discovered attending a rehearsal
+of the Naval Estimates._
+
+_Lord George._ And now I pray your particular attention, Sir JOHN, as
+this is the best thing in my play--it is a spectacular effect called
+the Summer Manoeuvres.
+
+_Sir John._ And no doubt costly, Lord GEORGE?
+
+_Lord George._ You are right, Sir JOHN, as you will have an
+opportunity of finding out--hereafter. But to the argument. It is
+supposed that the British Fleet is at war with, indeed, the British
+Fleet.
+
+_Sir John._ A very clever idea.
+
+_Lord George._ I flatter myself it is, and novel too. It is true that
+occasionally the ships comprising the British Fleet have run into one
+another in the past just as if they had been at war, but then they
+were avowedly at peace, and now they are undoubtedly the reverse. Do
+you take my meaning?
+
+_Sir John._ Well, not clearly. How do you show that the British Fleet
+is at war with the British Fleet?
+
+_Lord George._ Ah, there comes in my art, and I think you will confess
+I have a very pretty wit. You see I divide the British Fleet into two
+parts--one part represents the enemy and the other part represents
+itself like the House of Commons, a most representative body. That is
+clear, I hope?
+
+_Sir John._ Certainly--one is the British Fleet, and the other is not
+the British Fleet. But is there no bond of union?
+
+_Lord George._ Most assuredly there is--you pay for both. But, pardon
+me, I beg you will not further interrupt me. So, now that we have the
+two Fleets face to face, or, I should say, bow to starn, we proceed
+exactly as if there were a real quarrel between them. We spend money
+on coal, we spend money on pay, we spend money on ammunition. Nay,
+by my life, we spend money on everything--just as we should do if war
+were really declared! That's simple enough.
+
+_Sir John._ I confess your plan _does_ seem simple.
+
+_Lord George._ And there is more behind. We are not satisfied with
+merely spending money--we learn a lesson as well. Come, you must
+confess _that_ surprises you?
+
+_Sir John._ Well, I admit that generally, where there is any spending
+of money, it is _I_ who learn the lesson.
+
+_Lord George._ Good--distinctly good! But let us be serious. Well,
+when we are carrying on a war by every means in our power, we fancy
+that one Fleet is chasing the other. They both have equal speed, and
+we give one Fleet twenty-four hours' start of the other, and will you
+believe me that, although the first follows the second as fast as may
+be from the beginning to the end of the manoeuvring, they never see
+one another! On my life--never! They never see the British Fleet,
+because it's not in sight!
+
+_Sir John_. But could you not have learned all this without so great
+an expenditure of money?
+
+_Lord George._ Well, no, Sir JOHN--not at the Admiralty!
+
+_Sir John._ And how do you end the farce?
+
+_Lord George._ In the usual fashion, Sir JOHN _(ignites blue
+fire)_--in smoke!
+
+_[The characters are lost in the fog customary to the occasion.
+Curtain._
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration: A SEVERE SABBATARIAN.
+
+_Mr. Bung (Landlord of "Ye Pygge and Whistle")._ "SUNDAY LEAGUE,
+INDEED! _I'D_ SUNDAY LEAGUE 'EM, IF I'D A CHANCE!--BREAKIN' THE
+LORD'SD'Y, AND HINTERFERIN' WITH MY TRYDE!"]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"SHADOWED!"
+
+  Shadowed! Ay, even in the holiday season,
+    The Statesman, in his hard-earned hour of ease,
+  Is haunted by forebodings, and with reason.
+    What is that spectre the tired slumberer sees?
+  The foul familiar lineaments affright him;
+    Its pose of menace and its pointing hand
+  To caution urge, to providence invite him,
+    To foil this scourge of the Distressful Land.
+
+  Who does _not_ fear to speak of Forty-Seven,
+    When that same Shadow darkened all the isle?
+  Is _it_ abroad once more? Avert it, Heaven!
+    On Order's lips it chills the dawning smile;
+  Awakener of hushed fears and hatreds dying,
+    Blighter of more than Nature's genial growth,
+  Herald of hungering lips, of children crying,
+    To hold thee imminent all hearts are loth.
+
+  Vain holiday nepenthe, sport's unbending,
+    The Statesman's burdened brain may not forget.
+  His cares are ceaseless and his toils unending,
+    Memories embarrass and forebodings fret.
+  The gun, the golf-club, and the rod avail not
+    In his tired heart to make full holiday;
+  E'en amidst pastime he must watch, and fail not,
+    Approaching ills, the shadows on the way.
+
+  Shadowed! And not by common gloom, poor Minister!
+    The passing shades that chequer every course.
+  This spectral presence is as stern and sinister
+    As _atra cura_ on the rider's horse.
+  Before, the vision of the helpless peasant!
+    Behind, the famine phantom black and grim!
+  How should the holiday-hour, to all so pleasant,
+    Bring gladness true or genuine rest to him?
+
+  Wake! There is need for provident prevision,
+    For watchful eye, and for most wary hand.
+  In mellow Autumn's interlude Elysian
+    The old grim Shadow strikes across the land.
+  May Heaven arrest its course, avert its terror,
+    And keep the Statesman who this foe must fight
+  From careless blindness and from blundering error,
+    Such as of old lent aid to the Black Blight.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"JACK SHEPPARD REVERSED."
+
+This is the title of an amusing article in last week's _Saturday
+Review_. It is not the story of JACK SHEPPARD once more done into
+rhyme. The title so happily selected is thoroughly justified by the
+doings of an eccentric and original burglar, who, broke _into_ a
+prison! This certainly was JACK SHEPPARD reversed with a vengeance!
+The hero of the escapade is said to be a tinted native of
+Barbadoes--his portrait should be published as a companion to the
+"penny plain" of his prototype as "twopence coloured."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+CARDINAL MANNING'S PRECEDENCE.
+
+  It does not need heraldic lore
+    The Cardinal's place to find.
+  Of course he'll always come before
+    The ones who are behind.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+THE PHAGOCYTE.
+
+_(The Story of a Blood Feud.)_
+
+    [A microscopist has found an organism called the Phagocyte in
+    the blood, which pursues and devours the Bacilli.]
+
+  Strange the tale that Science tells.
+  Here are some devouring cells:
+  Ever watchful night and day,
+  They the vile Bacillus slay;
+  Wot we well he fears the bite
+  Of the guardian Phagocyte.
+
+  Hour by hour the fight goes on,
+  Till the silent battle's won;
+  Vainly do Bacilli shirk
+  When their deadly foe's at work;
+  Every microbe faints with fright
+  At the fearsome Phagocyte.
+
+  Should the Phagocyte not keep
+  Faithful ward, but go to sleep;
+  Then Bacillus, in high glee,
+  Works his will on you and me;
+  Danger would be ours to-night,
+  But for that same Phagocyte.
+
+  Such a tale of Science seems
+  Like the offspring of wild dreams;
+  Fiction surely, in good sooth,
+  Can invent no tale like truth.
+  Stranger story none could write
+  Than this of the Phagocyte.
+
+  The Astronomer descries
+  Worlds on worlds beyond our eyes;
+  'Neath the microscope weird things
+  Erst unseen whirl round in rings;
+  Hence it is that we indite
+  Stanzas to the Phagocyte.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration: "SHADOWED!"]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration: A SPECULATIVE OFFER.
+
+_Driver._ "NOW, TOM, WHEN WE ARRIVE AT THE TURN, I'LL SELL YOU THE
+DOG-CART FOR A SOV!"]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+MR. PUNCH'S SWIM ROUND THE WORLD.
+
+_(From his own Prophetic Log-book.)_
+
+
+_Herne Bay._--The weather being extremely favourable, I jumped off
+the end of the new pier, and, getting the benefit of the flood
+tide, passed the Nore and inspected Southend. Swimming quite easily,
+assisted by one or two short rests.
+
+_Margate._--Beached this popular seaside place a few hours later. Swam
+out of sight of the sands to rid myself of a view of the excursion
+riff-raff thereon congregated. Sea completely smooth, but cold. Took a
+nip of ----'s English Cognac.
+
+_Ramsgate._--Very pleased to find myself abreast of the Royal
+Crescent, which seemed delightful. Cape Grisnez still bearing N.E. by
+E. Munched one of ----'s excellent Birchrod Biscuits.
+
+_Dover._--Just had a good long rest in front of Clarence Lawn, which
+glistened in the sunlight. Greatly refreshed after a drink of ----'s
+Essence of Gravy beef.
+
+_Calais._--A shower of rain came on at this point. However, one of
+----'s excellent umbrellas kept my head dry, and, being easy to hold,
+did not prevent me from swimming and writing up my log.
+
+_Gibraltar._--I felt very fatigued going through the Bay of Biscay,
+but recovered much of my strength off the fortress by sucking one of
+----'s capital Kill-cough Lozenges.
+
+_Malta._--I have now been in the water six days and three nights
+continuously, and yet am nearly as fresh as when I started. I
+attribute this marvellous fact to my practice of sipping ----'s
+Essence of Coffeetine.
+
+_Aden._--Water extremely hot, but am still confident of success.
+Went to sleep for an hour in the Red Sea, smoking one of ----'s
+Anti-alligator cigarettes, which are a real preventive against
+crocodile annoyance.
+
+_Madras._--Am continuing my side-stroke but somewhat languidly. I
+half regretted that I was unable to go on shore to see the Indian
+curiosities. Much refreshed after partaking of the contents of ----'s
+Patent Luncheon Basket.
+
+_Singapore._--Have now been continually in the water for six weeks.
+Regret that my log should be so "scrappy," but my time just now is
+very much occupied by other things. Tired, but confident of success.
+During the last fortnight have fed with great relish upon ----'s
+_Puree de foies gras._ It is not only cheap, but excellent.
+
+_New Hebrides._--Am now within measurable distance of the end of my
+journey. Quite accustomed to the water. However, greatly fatigued, and
+very pleased to eat some of ----'s Alimentary Condiment.
+
+_Pitcairn Island._--Glad to be again in these latitudes. My strokes
+are now very feeble. I should have to give in were it not for ----'s
+Medicated Mutton Broth, which seems to be most nourishing.
+
+_Cape Town._--In a fainting condition. Scarcely able to hold this pen.
+Became better after eating ----'s Digestible Plum Puddings, sold in
+tin canisters at 1s. 10d. per pound.
+
+_Rio Janeiro._--Terribly hot and exhausted. I have now been three
+months continuously in the water, which is certainly a long time. Much
+amused with a toy called ----'s Mechanical Rabbit.
+
+_Cape Verde Islands._--Almost unconscious from fatigue. However, I can
+swim more easily after I have drunk a glass or two of ----'s Cabbage
+Rose Temperance Non-Intoxicating Sherry. It is a most admirable
+beverage.
+
+_Madeira._--I move with the greatest difficulty, and fear I must be
+sinking. I obtain great strength from an occasional sip of ----'s
+"Beef-fibre" (title registered) which seems to me worth twice its
+weight in gold.
+
+_Dublin._--Have now been in the water continuously for nearly half a
+year. Too feeble to look at Dublin. I am evidently sinking, and can
+only keep off a relapse by eating ----'s Patent Vegetable Substitute
+for Roast Pork.
+
+_Herne Bay._--Returned dead--quite dead! Restored to life by inhaling
+----'s Vitality Producer.
+
+N.B.--The above blanks will be filled up with real names. For
+particulars apply at 85, Fleet Street Advertisement Department.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+A BLACK BUSINESS.
+
+As stated in the _Daily Telegraph_ of Thursday last, the Russian
+Censor stamped out _Mr. Punch's_ Cartoon, "From Nile to Neva," and
+obliterated the verses. The _St. James's Gazette_ suggested that the
+Cartoon was thus reproduced in Whistlerian fashion. It certainly is a
+study in black, without any relief whatever. A Black business indeed!
+Who shall correct the Censor Incensed? Even _Mr. Punch_ himself
+would be chary about visiting Petersburg, lest he should be "bound in
+Russia,"--and sent to Siberia.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration: IMITATION THE SINCEREST FLATTERY.
+
+_(Effects of a Long Session in the House.)_]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+WHAT THE TAME RABBIT SAID TO THE GRAND OLD GARDENER.
+
+_(Some way after "Alice in Wonderland.")_
+
+"The work of Major MORANT is headed _Profitable Rabbit Farming.
+(Laughter.)_ Yes, that is a subject for merriment, probably, on
+account of its comparative novelty, but it is also a subject of
+satisfaction, which is akin to merriment, because this rabbit-farming
+appears to be a very good and promising description of pursuit....
+That is the raising of tame rabbits."--_Mr. Gladstone at the Hawarden
+Floral and Horticultural Society's Show._
+
+_These were the verses the Tame Rabbit recited_:--
+
+  The Grand Old Man was on the stir;
+    MORANT named me to him;
+  He gave me a good character;
+    I thought his meaning dim.
+
+  He held me up; they thought it fun!
+    And laughed; he chid their glee.
+  If he should push this matter on,
+    What will become of Me?
+
+  He said I was a paying game,
+    Commending me as such.
+  That's the result of being tame,
+    And living in a hutch.
+
+  My notion is that it is vain
+    For you, you Grand Old Fella,
+  To rave of rabbits in the rain,
+    Beneath a big umbrella.
+
+  Don't let them know _we_ fatten best,
+    For this should ever be
+  A secret kept from all the rest,
+    Between yourself and me!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration: AMONG THE BUNNIES.]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+LITERATURE AND LOTTERY.
+
+_(By a Patron of the Popular Press.)_
+
+  Yes, I've "a literary taste,"
+    And patronise a weekly journal;
+  'Tis what is called _Scissors and Paste_,
+    The paper's poor, the print's infernal.
+  But what of that, when, week by week,
+    High at the sight of it hope rises?
+  What in my Magazine I seek
+    Is just--a medium for Prizes!
+  I can't be bothered to read much,
+    I like my literature in snippets.
+  My hope is, with good luck, to clutch
+    Villas, gold watches, sable tippets.
+  A coupon and some weekly pence
+    Give me a chance of an annuity.
+  Oh, the excitement is intense!
+    I read with ardent assiduity,
+  _Not_ what the poor ink-spillers say
+    In sparkling "par," or essay solemn;
+  No, what I read, with triumph gay
+    Or hope deferred, is--the Prize Column!
+  On prose my time I seldom waste,
+    And poetry is poor and pottery.
+  But oh! I have an ardent taste
+    For Literature when linked with Lottery!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+ROBERT'S LITTLE HOLLERDAY.
+
+My hollerday, or sum of it, was spent in Hopen Spaces. Hif anybody as
+has got two eyes in his hed, and a hart in his buzzom, wants for to
+see what can be done with about 40 hakers of land--witch the most
+respecfool Gardiner told me was about the size of the Queen's Park at
+Kilburn--let him go there on a fine Summer's Arternoon, and see jest
+about five thowsen children a playing about there, all free, and
+hindependent, and appy, with two fountings to drink when they're ot
+and thirsty, and a nice littel Jim Nasyum to climb up and down. They
+ain't allowed to play at Cricket coz there ain't not room enuf, but
+I did see two bold littel chaps, about six a peace, a breaking of the
+Law, and a playing at the forbidden game, with a jacket for the wicket
+and a stick for a Bat, and the kind-arted Gardiner hadn't got hart
+enuff to stop 'em.
+
+He told me as how, when the Copperashun fust took possesshun of it,
+it was nothink but a Baron Swomp, but that, what with the spending of
+lots of money, and the souperintending genus of Major MAKENZIE, in
+two years it was maid to blossom like a rose. I spent a werry plessant
+arternoon there, and drove home in style on the Box Seat of a reel
+Company's Bus. The nex day I went to Higate Wood, another of the grate
+works of the good old Copperashun. And lawks, what a difference! No
+swarms of children a playing about on the grass, but lots and lots
+on 'em a racing about among the hundreds of trees, and their warious
+fathers and mothers a looking on with smiling faces and prowd looks.
+There is one place in the werry middle of the Wood where no less than
+sewen parths meets, and there the Copperashun Committee has bilt up a
+bewtifool Founting, and a long hinskripshun in praise of Water, tho
+I shood dout if they speaks from werry much pussonal xperience. I was
+told as how, when they fust hopened the Founting, the Chairman made a
+bewtifool speech, and ended by saying, "Water, brite Water for me, and
+Wine for the trembling Debborshee," and then they all went off to a
+jolly good dinner.
+
+With that artistick taste as so distinguishes 'em, they have crissened
+the place where the seven roads meets, "The Seven Dials." There was
+crowds of peeple there, all enjoying of themselves in a nice quiet
+way, and altogether it was a werry werry nice site.
+
+The werry next day I started in the warm sunshine for pretty West Ham
+Park, and had a leetle adwenture as ushal, for jest as I got there who
+shoud I meet but the rayther sillybrated Parson of the Parish--tho'
+judgin by aperiences I shoud have took him for the Bishop of
+ESSEX--and seeing me in my new Hat and my best black Coat, he werry
+naterally took me for a inquiring Wisitor, and told me all about the
+good deed of the Copperashun in saving the Park for the good of the
+Peeple. There was some werry little chaps a playing Cricket as before
+despite of the Law, and they had a reel bat too, and one on 'em,
+seeing me a looking on apruvingly, gave the ball such a tremenjus blow
+that he got a tooer, so I called out braywo!
+
+There seemed a lot of washing going on jest outside the Park, the
+white shirts and settera, flustering gaily in the breeze. But, as the
+Poet says, "they're allus Washing somewheres in the World!" The common
+peeple was orderd to walk on the footpaths, but a gardiner told me as
+them orders was not ment for such as me. I had a most copious Lunch
+for tuppense in the helegant Pawillion, and being in a jowial and
+ginerus mood, I treated six of the jewwenile natives to a simmeler
+Bankwet. Then there is the sillibrated Band as the Copperashun
+perwides twice a week, on which occasions reserwed seats is charged
+a penny each. The werry adwanced state of the musical taste of the
+nayberhood may be judged by the fact, that at a Concert close by, a
+"Ode to a Butterfly" was to be played on a base Trombone!
+
+The Gardiner told me as there was such a crowd of children on larst
+Bank Hollerday that there was hardly room to move about, tho' the Park
+is 80 hakers big; but as I am told that such a space wood hold
+about 80 thousand, quite cumferal, I thinks as he must have slitely
+xadgerated.
+
+ROBERT.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+A STRIKING NURSERY RHYME.
+
+_(With a Moral.)_
+
+  Tilbury, Tilbury Dock!
+  The men struck--on a rock;
+    For their U-ni-on
+    Said, "Wrong you have done!"
+  Tilbury, Tilbury Dock!
+
+  Tilbury, Tilbury scare!
+  This "Striking" seems in the air.
+    Conciliation
+    Should free the nation
+  From Tilbury, Tilbury scare!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+THE PROFESSIONAL GUEST.
+
+AT THE SEA-SIDE.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+DEAR MR. PUNCH,--When I last wrote to you I was anticipatorily
+revelling in the sea-bathing, tennis tournaments, pier band, and
+evening promenades of Flatsands. Alas! that I must confess it,
+but, after a fortnight's visit to that "salubrious spot" (_vide_
+highly-coloured advertisements), I give it as my opinion that
+Flatsands is a failure; and I think that, when you have listened to,
+or rather perused, my tale of woe, you will agree with me that it is a
+place to be avoided at all costs.
+
+On the difficulties and length of my journey thither (I changed five
+times, and spent nine hours in doing so), I will not dwell, neither
+will I lay stress on the fact that, when I did at last reach my
+destination, a prospect void of either Aunt, or conveyance of any
+kind, met my view, or that a heavy sea-mist had gathered, and was
+falling in the guise of penetrating, if fine, rain. After parleying
+with the station-master for some time, I ascertained that the station
+'bus never put in an appearance in wet weather, and that I could
+not get a closed fly, because the Flatsands' conveyances were all
+pony-traps, and therefore hoodless. He, however, directed me towards
+Balmoral, which was my Aunt's address, and told me that ten minutes'
+walk would take me, and that my luggage should be sent after me, on a
+truck.
+
+After some difficulty, for the sea-fog was very thick, I discovered
+Balmoral, but not my Aunt. The truculent-looking proprietor of the
+house, who answered the door, condescended to inform me that my
+relative "was the difficultest lady he'd ever had to do for. And that
+she'd left two days a-gone." But where she had betaken herself to,
+he either would not or could not tell me. "You'd best try along this
+row," he said, and then slammed the door in my face. Having nothing
+better to do, I followed his advice, and "tried along the row." I rang
+at Osborne, Sandringham, and Windsor. I knocked at Claremont (the bell
+was broken there), and walked boldly into Marlborough House, for that
+royal residence in particular was devoid of all ordinary means of
+heralding one's approach. I was just giving up my quest in despair,
+when through the rain, which was now falling heavily, I spied a small
+stucco villa standing shrinkingly back behind a row of palings, which,
+in spite of their green paint, looked more like domestic fire-sticks
+than anything else. The somewhat suggestive name of Frogmore was
+inscribed on the small gate, and I remembered that I quite shivered as
+I walked up the sloppy path, with my usual inquiry ready to hand.
+This time, though, I was right, and when, a few minutes later, I was
+sitting before a roaring fire, imbibing hot tea, and listening to
+my Aunt's account of her latest complaint (did I tell you she was
+hypochondriacal?) I felt that really and at last I was in for a
+pleasant visit.
+
+The evening proved a short one, for Aunt retired at nine, for which I
+was not sorry, as by that time the atmosphere of the sitting-room was
+distinctly stuffy, and neither dinner, nor the fumes of the invalid's
+hot-and-strong "night-cap" improved it. Next morning I sympathised
+with her on the fact that, soon after she had gone to bed, the
+young lady on the drawing-room floor (for two other families shared
+Frogmore's roof with us) had begun to sing, and had continued her
+performances till midnight; but I found my commiseration wasted, for
+she said that it had soothed her, which was considerably more than
+it had done me. After breakfast--which was late, on account of Aunt's
+health--I proposed a stroll on the Promenade, or an inspection of the
+tennis courts. "Bless my soul!" cried Auntie, "a person in my state
+of health does not go to places all over promenades and tennis courts.
+You won't find any such things at a nice quiet resort like Flatsands."
+I felt a little dashed, but replied "that perhaps she was right,
+and that it was a nice change to be without tennis; and that, as to
+promenades, they were quite superfluous where there was a pier, and
+a good band." "A pier, child!" she screamed. "You won't find any such
+abominations as piers here, or German bands either. Do you think that
+_I_ should come anywhere where there was a pier?" I felt the smile
+on my face becoming fixed, but I mastered my feelings sufficiently to
+murmur something about bathing before lunch.
+
+"You can't bathe here," snapped Aunt--"they don't allow it. The shore
+is too dangerous. But you can come out with me, if you like, to the
+tradespeople--I see my bath-chair coming along the road."
+
+And that, _Mr. Punch_, is how I spent my fortnight at Flatsands.
+Walking by the side of my Aunt's chair, and giving orders to the
+tradespeople in the morning; walking beside the same chair and blowing
+up the tradespeople for not having carried out the orders, in the
+afternoon; sitting in a hot room from five to nine o'clock, then lying
+awake till midnight, listening to the drawing-room young lady singing
+Italian and German songs out of tune, and with an English accent.
+
+Three things only occurred to in any way vary the monotony of my
+existence. The first was the arrival of the singing young lady's
+brother. He was seventeen, and his lungs were as thick as his boots.
+He tobogganed down-stairs on a tea-tray the first day he arrived; the
+second day he passed me in the hall and asked, with a grin, "if I
+was one of the mummies in this old mausoleum?" the third day he left,
+saying that the place was "too jolly beastly slow" for him. The second
+event was the sudden extraordinary mania that Aunt (did I tell you
+she was rich?) took for the singing lady. I discovered, much to my
+chagrin, I must say, that often, instead of going to bed at nine, as
+I believed she did, she used to ensconce herself in the drawing-room,
+and there sit and listen to indifferent music till all hours. It was
+this second event which brought about the third excitement. For having
+been a little imprudent one night, in the matter of "night-caps," or
+careless as to draughts, my Aunt was taken seriously ill. At least she
+chose to think herself so, though I now have vague suspicions that the
+singing lady knew more about it all than she cared to tell. All I know
+is that the doctor was sent for, and that, after a long confab in the
+sick room, he came to me and ordered my immediate return home. "Your
+poor Aunt requires perfect quiet," he said.
+
+Having no choice in the matter, I packed my boxes; not exactly with
+reluctance, but still with an uncomfortable feeling of being
+wanted out of the way. Aunt's last words to me rather confirmed my
+suspicions. "Ah! you are off, are you? Well, I may pull through this
+time--I think I feel better already." Then, with a pecking kiss, and
+an inaudible remark anent the ingratitude of relations, she dismissed
+me. As I left the house I distinctly heard that singing creature run
+up-stairs and into Aunt's room.
+
+On the way back to town I decided that she (Aunt I mean) was
+right--relations are _disgustingly_ ungrateful.
+
+Yours, much hurt,
+
+THE ODD GIRL OUT.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+TO THE CHAMPION (CRICKET) COUNTY.
+
+  _"Skilful Surrey's sage commands."_
+    There is a cue from WALTER SCOTT!
+  (_Not_ Surrey's "WALTER.") _Punch_ claps hands,
+    And sings out, "Bravo, SHUTER'S Lot!"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+THEATRICAL PROBABILITIES.
+
+New pieces by HENRY AUTHOR JONES, author of _Judah, The Deacon,
+&c.:--The Archbishop; The Salvationist, or Boothiful for Ever! The
+Rural Dean_ (a pastoral play); _The Chorister_, a stirring drama,
+showing how a Chorister struggled with his conscience. Of course the
+Rev. Mr. WILLARD will have the principal part in each piece. Then
+there will be special nights for the Ministers of all denominations.
+There will be a _Matinee_ of _Precedence_, to which Cardinal MANNING
+and all his clergy will be invited. After the play is over, the Right
+Reverend Dr. WILLARD will preach a sermon to the Cardinal, on his
+duties generally.
+
+As long as only the orthodox witness these performances all will go
+well. But what a first night that will be when the Right Reverend Dr.
+WILLARD and the Reverend HENRY AUTHOR JONES find that some play has
+been produced in the presence of an audience composed entirely of
+Dissenters! _Absit omen!_ This may never happen if only serious
+persons in orders, or rather with orders, are admitted.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+---> NOTICE.--Rejected Communications or Contributions, whether MS.,
+Printed Matter, Drawings, or Pictures of any description, will in no
+case be returned, not even when accompanied by a Stamped and Addressed
+Envelope, Cover, or Wrapper. To this rule there will be no exception.
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Punch, or the London Charivari, Vol.
+99, August 30, 1890., by Various
+
+*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PUNCH ***
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