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diff --git a/old/13244-8.txt b/old/13244-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..a6cb4c6 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/13244-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,2801 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Punch Among the Planets, 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 Among the Planets + +Author: Various + +Release Date: August 21, 2004 [EBook #13244] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PUNCH AMONG THE PLANETS *** + + + + +Produced by Malcolm Farmer, William Flis, and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team. + + + + + +PUNCH, + +OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. + + + +Christmas Number 1890. + + * * * * * + +[Illustration: Punch Among the Planets] + +CHRISTMAS NUMBER 1890. + + * * * * * + +INTRODUCTION. + +The Old Year was fast nearing its close, the night was clear and +starry, and Father Time, from the top of his observatory tower, was +taking a last look round. + +To him entered, unannounced save by the staccato yap of the faithful +_Tobias_, Time's unfailing friend, unerring Mentor, and immortal +contemporary, _Mr. Punch_. + +"_I_ am not for an age, but for All Time," freely quoted the Swan's +sole parallel. "And very much at Time's service," he added, throwing +open his fur-lined "Immensikoff," and lighting a cigar at the +Scythe-bearer's lantern. + +[Illustration: Punch Among the Planets] + +"Happy to meet you once more, _Mr. Punch_," responded old Edax Rerum, +turning from what the poet calls his 'Optic Tube' to welcome his +sprightly visitor. "Awfully good of you to turn up just now. Like +True THOMAS's _Teufelsdröckh_, 'I am alone with the Stars,' and was +beginning to feel just a little bit lonely." + +"With the Voces Stellarum to keep you company? You surprise me," +said _Mr. Punch_. "But what is all this?" he added, pointing with +accustomed eye to a pile of MS. at TIME's elbow. + +If so old a stager as Father TIME _can_ blush, he certainly did so on +this occasion. + +"Fact is, _Mr. Punch_," he rejoined, "I, like younger and shall I +say lesser Celebrities, have been writing my 'Reminiscences.' Ha ha! +_The Chronicles of Chronos_ in 6,000 volumes or so--up to now. This +is a small portion of my _Magnum Opus_. Can you recommend me to a +publisher?" + +"Ask my friend Archdeacon FARRAR," responded the Sage, drily. "What +a work! And what a sensation! TALLEYRAND's long-talked-of 'Memoirs' +not in it! Do you know, my dear TIME, I think you had better postpone +the publication--for an æon or so at least. _Your Magnum Opus_ might +become a _Scandalum Magnatum_." + +"Ah, perhaps so," replied TIME, with a sigh. + +"Alone with the Stars," pursued _Mr. Punch_, meditatively. "Humph! The +Solar System alone ought to provide you with plenty of company." + +"Yes." responded TIME, "but, after all, you know, telescopic +intercourse is not entirely satisfactory. Like EDGAR POE's _Hans +Pfaal_, I feel I should like to come to closer quarters with the +'heavenly bodies' as the pedagogues call them." + +"And why not?" queried _Mr. Punch_, coolly. + +"As how?" asked his companion. + +"TIME, my boy" laughed the Sage, "you seem a bit behind yourself. +Listen! 'Mr. EDISON is prosecuting an experiment designed to catch and +record the sounds made in the sun's photosphere when solar spots are +formed by eruptions beneath the surface.' Have you not read the latest +of the Edisoniana?" + +TIME admitted he had not. + + "TIME, you rogue, you love to get + Sweets upon your list--put _that_ in," + +quoted the Sage. "Something piquant for the 6001st Vol. of your +Chronicles. But, after all, what is EDISON compared with Me? If you +really wish for a turn round the Solar System, a peregrination of the +Planets, put aside that antiquated spy-glass of yours and come with +Me!" + +And, "taking TIME by the forelock," in a very real sense, the Sage of +Fleet Street rose with him like a Brock rocket, high, and swift, and +light-compelling, into the star-spangled vault of heaven. + +"SIC ITUR AD ASTRA!" said the Sage. + + "Twinkle, twinkle, Fleet Street Star! + Saturn wonders who _you_ are, + Up above the world so high, + Like a portent in the sky. + Wonders if, Jove-like, you want, + Him to banish and supplant! + Fear not, Saturn; _Punch's_ bolt + Arms Right Order, not Revolt; + Dread no fratricidal wars + From this 'Star' among the Stars!" + + * * * * * + +VISIT TO SATURN. + +"I am glad to hear _that_, at any rate," said Saturn, welcoming the +illustrious guests to his remote golden-ringed realm. + +[Illustration] + +Saturn, however, did not look exactly comfortable, and his voice, how +unlike "To that large utterance of the early gods," sounded quavering +and querulous. + +"It is customary," said he, "to talk, as the old Romans rather +confusedly did, of 'the Saturnian reign' as the true 'Golden Age,' +identified with civilisation, social order, economic perfection, and +agricultural profusion. As a matter of fact, I've always been treated +badly, from the day when Jupiter dethroned me to that when, the Grand +Old Man--who _ought_ to have had more sympathy with me--banished +hither the strife-engendering Pedant's hotch-potch called Political +Economy." + +"Be comforted, Saturn, old boy--_I_ am here!" cried _Mr. Punch_. "I +am 'personally conducting' Father TIME in a tour of the Planets. Let's +have a look round your realm!" + +_Mr. Punch_ sums up much of what he saw in modern "Saturnian Verses." + +_Punch_. Good gracious! my worthy old Ancient, who once held the sway + of the heavens, + Your realm seems a little bit shaky; what mortals call "sixes and + sevens"! + +_Saturn_. That's scarcely god-lingo, my boy; but 'tis much as you + say, and no wonder. + Free imports have ruined my realm--I refer to Bad-Temper and Blunder, + Two brutish and boobyish Titans--they've wholly corrupted our morals, + And taught us "Boycotting," and "Strikes," and "Lock-outs," and all + sorts of mad quarrels. + I hope you don't know them down there, in your queer little speck of + a planet, + These humbugging latter-day Titans? + +_Punch_. That cannot concern you--now can it? + +_Saturn_. Just look at the shindy down yonder! + +_Punch_. By Jove, what the doose are they doing? + +_Saturn_. Oh, settling the Great Social Question! + +_Father Time_. It looks as though mischief were brewing. + +_Saturn_. Sort of parody of the old fight, which was splendid at least, + if tremendous, + 'Twixt Jove and the Titans of old. That colossus, gold-armoured, + stupendous, + Perched high on the "Privilege" ramparts, and bastioned by big bags of + bullion, + Is "Capital"; he's the new Jove, and each Titan would treat as his + scullion, + But look at the huge Hundred-Handed One, armed with the scythe and the + sickle, + The hammer, the spade, and the pick! + +_Father Time_. Things appear in no end of a pickle! + +_Saturn_. Precisely! That's Labour-Briareus; backed up by "Bad Temper" + and "Blunder," + And egged on by "Spout" (with a Fog-Horn); he's "going for" him of the + Thunder, + And Gold ramparts headlong, _à outrance_. + +_Punch_. But look at the spectres behind them! + +_Saturn_. Ah! Terrors from Tartarus, those to which only Bad Temper + can blind them. + Those spectres foreshadow grim fate; they are Lawlessness, Ruin, + Starvation; + To the Thunderer dismal defeat, to the conquerors blank desolation. + +The Sage looked serious. + +These things, mused he, are an allegory, perhaps, but of a +significance not wholly Saturnian. + +[Illustration] + +"Saturn, old boy" said he, "cannot what sentimentalists call 'the +Dismal Science,' which as you say has been banished hither, do +anything to help you out of this hobble?" + +"The Dismal Science," responded Saturn, whose panaceas of Unrestricted +Competition, Free Combination, Cheap Markets, Supply and Demand, +&c., have landed its disciples in Sweating Dens on the one side and +Universal Strikes on the other, can hardly offer itself as a cure for +the New Socialism. Like Rhea of old, when asked for food, it proffers +a stone." + +"Ah!" quoth Father TIME, "you manage these things much better on the +Earth, doubtless." + +"Doubtless," replied the Sage, drily, as he and Father TIME took their +departure. + + * * * * * + +VISIT TO MARS. + +[Illustration] + +So Mr. PUNCH, holding TIME by the forelock, continued his journey. + +"Where are we now?" asked the more elderly gentleman. + +"My good friend," replied the Sage of Fleet Street, "we are +approaching Mars, which as you know, or should know (if your education +has been completed under the supervision of the School Board) is +sometimes called the Red Planet." + +"So I have often heard. But why?" + +"That is what we shall soon discover. But now keep quiet, as we have +arrived." + +With the gentlest of gentle shocks _Mr. Punch_ and his companion +found themselves on a mound, which they soon recognised as a mountain. +Looking below them, they saw masses of scarlet, apparently in motion. +It was then that TIME regretted that he had not brought with him his +telescope. + +"It would have been so useful," he murmured, "and if a little bulky, +what of that? Surely _Mr. Punch_ is accustomed to make light of +everything?" + +"See, some one is approaching," observed the Sage of Fleet Street, +whose eye-sight was better than that of his companion. And sure +enough a lively young officer at this moment put in an appearance, +and saluted. + +"Glad to see you both," said he; "and, by order of the General +Commander-in-Chief, you are to make what use you please of me. I am +entirely at your service." + +"Why, you speak English!" exclaimed _Mr. Punch_. + +[Illustration] + +"That is so!" returned the young officer in American; "and why not? +Besides I know French, Russian, German, and all the languages spoken +on your little globe, to say nothing of the dialects used by those who +inhabit the rest of the planets. It's our system. Nowadays, a man in +the Service is expected to be up in everything. If he wasn't, how on +earth could he fight, or do anything else in a satisfactory fashion? +And now let us bustle along." + +"But first," put in TIME, who did not relish being silent, "will you +kindly tell us what those masses of colour are?" + +[Illustration] + +"Certainly. They are troops. We put them in scarlet in peace, but they +appear in their shirtsleeves the moment war's declared. Novel idea, +isn't it?" + +And then the pleasant-spoken young officer led the way to a lift, and, +touching a button, the three descended from the top of the mountain to +the valley beneath. + +"On the counterweight system," explained the A.D.C. "We cribbed +the idea from Folkestone, and Lynmouth. And here, _Mr. Punch_, is +something that will interest you. We absolutely howled at that sketch +of yours showing the mechanical policeman. Don't you know--old woman +puts a penny in the slot and stops the traffic? And here's the idea +developed. See that mechanical sentry. I put a penny in the slot, and +he pays me the usual compliment. He shoulders arms, as I am only a +captain--worse luck! If I were of field rank he would come smartly +to the present." + +And sure enough the mechanical soldier saluted. + +"It's not half a bad idea," continued the agreeable A.D.C. "You see +sentry-go is awfully unpopular, and a figure of iron in times of peace +is every bit as good as a man of brass. The pence go to the Canteen +Fund along with the fines for drunkenness. It seems reasonable enough +that a fellow, if he wants to be saluted, should pay for the +swagger. If a fellow likes to turn out the guard, he can do it with +sixpence--but then of course he hasn't the right unless his rank +permits it--see?" + +By this time the mechanical soldier had returned to the slope, and was +parading his beat in a somewhat jerky manner. + +"And now what would you fellows like to do?" asked the A.D.C. "Pardon +the familiarity, but nowadays age doesn't count, does it? Everybody's +young. One of the best _Juliets_ I ever knew had turned sixty, and +played to a _Romeo_ who was twenty years her senior. Nothing like that +down below, I suppose?" + +"Nothing," returned _Mr. Punch_. + +"So I have always understood. Well, where shall we go first?" + +"Anywhere you like," said the Sage of Fleet Street. "But are you sure +that we are not unduly trespassing on your time?" + +[Illustration] + +"Not at all--only too delighted. It's all in the day's work. We have +a lot of distinguished visitors that we have to take round. I like it +myself, but some of our fellows kick against it. Of course it doesn't +refer to you two; but you can fancy what a nuisance it must be for +all our fellows to have to get up in full rig, and bow and scrape, +and march and countermarch, and go through the whole bag of tricks, to +some third-rate Royalty? Ah! they are happier off at Aldershot, aren't +they?" + +"No doubt," was the prompt reply. + +_Mr. Punch_ and Father TIME had now entered a barrack square, wherein +a number of trembling recruits were standing in front of a sergeant. + +"I am just putting them through their paces, Sir," said he: "they are +a bit rusty in bowing drill." + +The A.D.C. nodded, and, turning on his heel, explained to the visitors +that it was the object of the Authorities to introduce as much as +possible of the civil element into the Army. + +"You will see this idea carried out a little further in the +institution we are now entering," he added, as the three walked into +a building that looked like a handsome Club-house. At the door was an +officer in the uniform of the Guards. + +"Hullo, HUGHIE," said the A.D.C., "on duty to-day?" + +"As hall-porter. CHARLIE is smoking-room waiter. I say, do you want to +take your friends round?" + +"Well, I should like to let them get a glimpse of TOMMY ATKINS at his +ease." + +"All right, you can pass. But, I say, just warn them to keep quiet +when they get near him. We have had no end of a time to smooth him +down." + +[Illustration] + +Thus warned, the Sage and Father TIME passed through the hall and +entered the smoking-room. Stretched at full length on a couple of +chairs was a Private, lazily sipping a glass of brandy and soda-water, +that had just been supplied to him by an officer of his own battalion. +On withdrawing, the A.D.C. greeted the commissioned waiter who +answered to the name of CHARLIE. + +"Rather rough, eh?" said he, with a glance at a tray containing a +cork-screw and an empty bottle. + +"A bit better than Bermuda. If we don't coerce them, we must be +polite. After all, fagging turned out the heroes of Winchester and +Westminster, and wasn't Waterloo won on the playing-fields of Eton?" + +"Rather a dangerous game, isn't it?" observed _Mr. Punch_. "You'll +have to fall in next, and TOMMY will inspect you, and give you a +couple of days' extra drill for not having cleaned your rifle!" + +"Well, if I don't look after my arms, I shall have merited the +punishment; and, after all, it will only be a case of turn and +turn about," was the reply. Then the A.D.C. added, "Hang me, too, I +believe, with all we fellows have to do nowadays, that if we _did_ +change with TOMMY ATKINS, we, and not he, would have the best of the +bargain!" + +[Illustration] + +Leaving the Soldiers' Club, _Mr. Punch_ and Father TIME continued +their journey. They had not proceeded far, when the A.D.C. invited +them to enter a building known as the Museum. + +"It really is a most useful and interesting institution," said the +officer of the Planet Mars. "Here, you see, we have portrait models of +the officer of the past and present. In the past, you will notice, he +sacrificed everything to athletic sports--if he could fence, shoot, +hunt, and play cricket, polo, and football, he was quite satisfied. +His successor of to-day devotes all his time to study. He must master +the higher branches of mathematics before he is considered fit to +inspect the rear-rank of a company, and know the modern languages +before he can be entrusted with the command of a left half-battalion. +Here again we have the uniform of an officer in peace and war--swagger +and gold lace on the one side, and stern simplicity and kharki on the +other." + +In another room _Mr. Punch_ and Father TIME discovered that everyone +was fast asleep. There was a Cabinet Minister supported by two minor +officials--all three of them absolutely unconscious. There were +any number of Generals decorated from belt to neck--any quantity +of higher-grade clerks--one and all slumbering: "This is called the +Intelligence Department of the Army," explained the A.D.C. "You have +nothing like it in England?" + +"Nothing!" returned _Mr. Punch_, as he disappeared. + + * * * * * + +VISIT TO MERCURY. + +[Illustration] + +Mr. Punch and Father Time were once again whirling on their way +through boundless space. + +They were approaching their next destination, and the dark globe +of the planet had just come into view on the horizon. Rapidly it +increased in size as they neared it, and the seas and continents could +be easily traced. + +"Dear me?" exclaimed _Mr. Punch_. "Why, I declare if there is not +something written upon it!" and he put up his binoculars, "Why, it is +nothing more nor less than a big advertisement. Looks like humbug," he +continued. "What's the name of the Planet, eh?" + +"Mercury," replied Father TIME, with cheery spirit; "and with that +device they try to catch the eye of a passing Comet." + +"Hum--they won't catch me!" observed the Sage, brightly. "I brought +my truth-compeller with me--a little, patent, electrical hypnotic +arrangement, in the shape of this ring"--he showed it as he spoke. "I +have only to turn it on my finger, and it obliges anyone who may be +addressing me instantly to speak the truth." + +They suddenly found themselves deposited in the centre of a vast +square, surrounded by large palatial-looking buildings, public +offices, stores, shops, picture-galleries, gigantic blocks of +private residences, in flats five-and-twenty storeys high, and +other architectural developments of the latest constructive crazes, +fashioned, apparently, after the same models, and on similar lines, +to those at present so much in vogue in that now distant planet, the +Earth. There was a profusion of advertisement-boards, these, in many +instances, entirely covering the whole façade of the building with +large-lettered announcements of the nature of the trade or business +conducted within. An eager and excited crowd thronging the pavements, +and hustling each other, without any apparent purpose or aim, was +pushing in all directions. + +"I wonder what all this is about," observed _Mr. Punch_; "suppose we +ask a Policeman?" + +They noticed a being attired in every respect like the familiar +guardians of the peace on Earth, except that he carried a harmless +and gaily-decked bladder in place of the more serviceable _bâton_, and +beckoned to him. He approached with polite alacrity. + +"You want to know what's up, Gents?" he commenced, divining their +purpose instinctively. "It's the Half-Quarterly Meeting of the Solid +Gold Extract of Brick-Dust Company. There's been some little talk +about the dividend not being quite so good as the prospectus led the +shareholders to believe, and as the shares have been mostly taken up +by widows and orphans, some of their friends, you see, are a little +anxious to hear the Chairman's Report. But, you see, it'll be all +right." + +At this moment a widow, with blanched cheeks and dishevelled hair, +who had been listening with an anxious and eager gaze to what the +Policeman had been saying, joined the group. + +_Mr. Punch_ looked at her with mournful sympathy, and slowly turning +the ring on his finger, addressed the Policeman. "Tell me, my good +man," he said, persuasively, "is that the truth? Is it really all +right?" + +"All right?" rejoined the guardian of the peace in amazement, but +apparently unconscious of the purport of his speech, "I should rather +think not. Call it 'all wrong' and then you'll about hit it. Why it's +well known that the patent's all _fudge_. It's the biggest swindle +out. No more in it than in this here bladder. But you'll see; the +whole thing's burst, and you'll know it in a minute." + +The words were scarcely out of his mouth when a roar of a thousand +angry voices, followed by a sudden rush from the building of a mad +and raging crowd, obliged _Mr. Punch_, for a moment, to pause. When +the uproar had somewhat subsided, he turned to the Policeman, and +pointed feelingly to the unfortunate widow, who had fallen on to an +apple-stall in a fit of hysterics, and, locking his arm in that of his +aged companion, proceeded to cross the square. "Give us a song, old +'un!" shouted a portion of the mob, who had followed them. + +"Certainly. Oblige them!" added _Mr. Punch_, taking a banjo from +one of the crowd and placing it in Father TIME's hands. "Give them a +stanza of the Ballad of Truth." + +He turned his ring, and his aged companion struck up the following +ditty:-- + + "Know ye the land where dwells only mock-turtle, + Where wine that should gladden but makes you fell queer. + Where bayonets bend, where guns burst and hurtle + Their breech in the face of their friends at the rear, + Where lamps labelled 'safety' with just terrors fill you, + Where water supplied you for milk is no theft, + Where pills that should cure, if persisted in, kill you + And the 'Hair Resurrector' takes all you've got left! + Where soap, that should soften your skin, only flays you, + Where a horse proves a screw though got through a friend, + Where the loss of your 'cover' confounds and dismays you, + Though assured by the _Firm_ 'if you hold on t'will mend'? + Know ye, in fine, where by pushing and 'rushing,' + This--and much more, down the public throat crams, + Blatant Advertisement, brazen, unblushing--? + If you do, then you've spotted the _Planet of Shams_." + +[Illustration] + +Though a few paving-stones were hurled at the aged singer, the +conclusion of his sons was greeted by a general roar of laughter, the +populace apparently recognising the picture of their own chicanery +with amusement and relish. + +After that they held on their way for some minutes in silence. They +had now reached the other side, and were confronted by a couple +of respectable-looking gentlemen of an almost clerical aspect, who +appeared to be catering in the public streets in the interests of some +institution. They approached _Mr. Punch_ and Father TIME, and offered +them a prospectus. + +"'THE DEAR LITTLE CHILDREN'S HAPPY AND ELEGANT BURIAL INSTITUTION,'" +read _Mr. Punch_, surveying the paper presented to him, and +continuing, "'_A trivial payment of Ninepence a Month will ensure +the youthful Subscriber, or his Representative, a sweet and +elegantly-constructed little Coffin, beautifully frilled, with a +one-black-horse Family Omnibus Hearse, and a tray of Two Handsome +Plumes. N.B.--if preferred, payment of £2 19s. 6d. in cash on +production of Corpse._'" + +They showed _Mr. Punch_ and Father TIME up the front steps, and +ushered them into a large hall. It was thronged with a crowd of dirty +and raggedly-dressed people, and partitioned off by a handsome and +massive mahogany counter, beyond which sat a staff of clerks busily +engaged in keeping the books and generally discharging the duties of +the institution. + +[Illustration] + +"Ha, Mrs. MACSTOGGINS, and are we in your debt again?" asked the Agent +of a beetle-browed woman of a sinister and forbidding expression, who +was thrusting a paper across the counter to the cashier. + +"Yes; and I'll trouble you not to keep me waiting, either--seeing that +it's gone three days since the burial." + +"Is this woman demanding the insurance money for the burial of her own +child?" asked _Mr. Punch_, sternly. And he turned his ring. "And pray, +Madam," he continued, addressing the beetle-browed woman, "tell me the +truth." + +"Certainly," replied the woman, as if in a trance. "First, I insured +my own KATE--then I starved her to death, and took the money. Then +little BILL followed. I let him catch cold in the winter, and gave +him a night or two on the stones, and that finished him. Then came TIM +FLAHERTY, and I managed him with the beetle-poison, and--" + +"Come," said _Mr. Punch_, taking Father TIME's arm once more; "let us +get out of this--I can't breathe here." + +Scarcely had they quitted the place ere they had to encounter an +appeal for custom, the Applicant being apparently one of the big guns +in the Mercury wine trade, and he was not long in importuning _Mr. +Punch_ just to step inside his office, and sample a delicious Lafitte +of the 1874 vintage. + +"Now, try that, Sir," he said, at the same time offering _Mr. Punch_ a +glass of the rich ruby-coloured beverage, "and tell me what you think +of it. We have a small parcel of it still left, and could let you have +it at the remarkably low figure of 112s. the dozen." + +"It looks all right," drily replied _Mr. Punch_, "but I can't +think how you can sell it at the price." Then holding up the glass +critically, and turning his ring, continued, "How do you manage it?" + +"How do I manage it?" replied the unconscious merchant, laughing +heartily at the apparent joke. "Why, my dear Sir, there's not much +difficulty about that. I just make it myself. Listen to my receipt:-- + + "Potato spirit--that the 'body' finds; + And then, as for colour, + Be it brighter or duller, + You see I am supplied with several kinds, + And as to flavour, I get that desired, + By adding various poisons as required. + +[Illustration] + +Ha! ha! Let me send you in a few dozen." He offered _Mr. Punch_ an +elaborate price-list as he concluded his self-condemnatory verse with +an obsequious bow. + +"Come," said _Mr. Punch_, once more taking hold of his aged +companion's arm, without condescending to give the cheating tradesman +any reply, "come--let us get out of this. 'Pon my word, I think we've +almost had enough of Mercury!" + +"Their morality does seem to have reached rather a low ebb, I must +confess," replied Father TIME. + +"Nothing like this on our Earth, anyhow," continued _Mr. Punch_, +with a satisfied sigh of relief. "But come, we'll hear what the whole +people say of themselves. See here's a chance. I believe there's a lot +of them over there singing their National Anthem." + +They listened as _Mr. Punch_ spoke. He was right. There was a vast +crowd collected outside one of the principal buildings on the other +side of the square, and they were clearly finishing some popular +anthem in chorus, for, as Father TIME and _Mr. Punch_ paused to +listen, the well-known familiar refrain-- + + "Never, never, never, + Shall be slaves!" + +smote their ear. + +"Capital! Capital!" cried _Mr. Punch_, approaching the throng. "We'll +have that again." He turned his ring once more as he spoke, and the +mob responded by shouting their second verse. + + "Fool! Mercurius! + Of greed thy sons are slaves; + And they ever, ever, ever-- + Shall be knaves!" + +"Come," cried _Mr. Punch_, "I think that judgment of themselves out of +their own mouths settles the matter! I have done with them. Come, let +us seek some healthier place. Up we go!" + +He seized hold of Old Father TIME as he spoke, and bounded with him +upwards suddenly into space. In another minute they were in search of +a brighter, a better, and a truer world. + +[Illustration] + + * * * * * + +VISIT TO JUPITER. + +Father TIME with his glorious guide dropped gently down. They found +themselves in the centre of a bare expanse of dry, grassy country, +broken here and there by sand-hills. On their right was the sea, +dotted with ships. Parties of men in red coats, and carrying in their +hands curiously-shaped sticks, were walking about in all directions. +They all looked very earnest, some of them were gloomy, some +positively furious. Occasionally they stopped, placed themselves in an +uncouth straddle-legged attitude, whirled their sticks, looked eagerly +towards the horizon, and then marched on again as solemnly as before. +One party in particular attracted the attention of Father TIME. It +was a large, mixed gathering of men, and women, and children. They +all moved or stood at a respectful distance from the central figure, a +benevolent-looking gentleman, with a flowing white beard. He too wore +a red coat, and carried a stick. A crowd of attendants bearing more +sticks followed him. + +[Illustration] + +"Let me explain," said the Arch-Provider of Merriment to his +companion, "this ground is known as Links; the game of 'Golf' is being +played. These gentlemen are golfers. The sticks they carry are called +clubs. That bearded old gentleman is the King of Jupiter, FOOZLER THE +FIFTH. He is playing his morning round. I will introduce you." + +So saying, the King of all Clubs advanced with the Scythe-holder, and, +taking advantage of a moment when King FOOZLER, having made a long +shot, was in good humour, rapidly effected the necessary presentation. + +"I know this game well," said _Mr. Punch_. "It is said to be much +played in my own country now. Permit me to have the honour of playing +one hole against your Majesty." + +The King smiled a gracious assent. His ball had been already placed +for him on a little heap of sand about an inch high. He advanced +towards it, anxiously measured his distance, waved his club to and +fro over his ball as if in blessing, and then, swinging it through +the air, struck--nothing. The ball remained unmoved. + +"He's missit the globe," muttered one of the attendants; "I've aye +tellt him to keep his eye furrmer on the ball." + +Four times His Majesty, whose good humour was now entirely gone, +repeated the operation with similar results. At last he hurled his +club to the ground, breaking it into splinters, and addressed his +immovable ball in strong terms. + +"Allow me, Your Majesty," said _Mr. Punch_, as he stepped airily +forward and selected the king's best driver from the heap of clubs +carried by the chief caddie, "I think I know how this ought to be +done," and without a moment's hesitation he delivered his stroke. The +ball flew true and far until it was merely a speck in the air, and +finally dropped down about a quarter of a mile away. "You will find +it in the hole," said the Golfer of Golfers, carelessly turning to the +discomfited King; "Oh, my Royal and Ancient One," he continued, "there +are certain things we do better in another country, and Golf is one of +them." + +But at this moment a great commotion arose. A messenger on a foaming +steed dashed up, and handed a despatch to the king, who at once read +it. + +"Dear me!" said His Majesty, "this is most annoying. The Emperor of +BARATARIA is to arrive in half an hour. He's a bit of a young prig, +and bores me dreadfully--but we must meet him." With that he retired +at once to the nearest palace, to change his uniform. In about ten +minutes he came forth a changed man. On his head glittered an immense +helmet, with a waving plume; a tunic of gold lace was buttoned tightly +round his chest. Row upon row of stars and medals encircled him like +so many belts; his legs were hidden in an enormous pair of jack-boots, +to which were fixed a pair of huge Mexican spurs. An immense sword +dangled at his side. + +"This," said the King, as he motioned _Mr. Punch_ and Father TIME into +his state carriage, and vaulted in after them with as much agility as +his sword and boots would permit, "is the uniform of the Baratarian +Die-hards, of which regiment I am honorary Colonel." + +Thus they drove to the balloon station, at which the Imperial guest +was expected. After a few minutes, a sound of cheering was heard. + +"He's coming," observed the King. "Have I got my kissing face on?" + +_Mr. Punch_ reassured him. A moment afterwards the state-balloon +of BARATARIA soared up to the platform, and a young man, gorgeously +attired in the uniform of the Tenth (Jupiter's Own) Lancers, sprang +lightly from it. + + Loud pealed the loyal anthem, and rattled all the drums, + And, as the guard presented, the cry went up, "He comes!" + He steps upon the platform, and, while the plaudits ring, + A King hangs round an Emperor's neck, an Emperor hugs a King; + And, with impartial kisses on both cheeks duly pressed, + The guest does homage to his host, the host salutes his guest. + +The Emperor then, having shaken _Mr. Punch_ warmly by the hand, +departed with his royal host. After this, the three potentates, +_Punch_ the Only, FOOZLER THE FIFTH, and the Baratarian Emperor, +called upon one another at intervals of half an hour. This process +occupied the afternoon. + +For the evening a state-ball at the Royal Palace had been announced. +Thither, at the appointed hour, _Mr. Punch_ and his hoary associate +were conveyed. As they approached, the royal band struck up a martial +air, the Lord Chamberlain advanced to meet them, and ushered them into +the magnificent hall in which the guests were assembling. From this a +wide double staircase led up to a marble gallery. Hall, gallery, and +staircase were filled with a brilliant crowd; the men arrayed in every +variety of uniform; the ladies, to a woman, in V-shaped dresses, the +openness of which appeared to vary in a direct ratio to the age of +their wearers. + +[Illustration] + +"We will repose awhile," _Mr. Punch_ remarked to the Father, "and +scan the multitude. This, my dear Tempus, is the pick of Society. +That stout lady, with a face like a haughty turtle, is the Duchess of +DOUBLECHIN; that graceful little woman next to her is Lady ANGELINA +BATTLEAXE--she is a dress-maker." + +"A what?" inquired Father TIME. + +"A dress-maker," answered the Master, calmly. + + "In her shop, ancient notions forsaking, + The proud ANGELINA unbends; + And her figure's a tall one for making + A fit for the figures of friends. + Our cynical latter-day Catos + Are dumb when invited to dine + With a Marquis who deals in potatoes, + Or an Earl who takes orders for wine. + And, though old-fashioned folk think it funny, + It's as common as death, or as debts, + To find gentlemen making their money + Out of shops for the making of bets. + +The stout puffy old fellow there is the wealthiest man in Jupiter. +He floats mines, asteroid mines mostly, and makes it pay him. He +can command the very best society. Those ladies clustering round the +Prince-Royal come from over the ocean. Pretty, but twangy. A fresh +consignment arrives every year. And the Prince-Royal has the pick of +them." + +[Illustration] + +But before _Mr. Punch_ could finish his explanatory sketch, a +tremendous uproar was heard in the court-yard of the Palace. There +was a sound as of a huge mob shouting in unison, shots were heard, and +cries of "Liberty for Ever:" vent the air. The royal guests were in +a state of terrible agitation. An orderly covered with mud forced his +way through the crowd, up the stairs, and stood before the King. + +"Your Majesty," he panted, "a revolution has broken out. The populace +has erected barricades, the deposition of your House has been +declared, and a Republic proclaimed. The mob is now marching to the +Palace." + +The King drew himself up to his full height. Where are my Golf-clubs? +he asked in a calm voice. + +"Your Majesty, they have been seized and secreted." + +"Then all is lost. It only remains for me to depart," was the King's +heartbroken reply. "I will, in person, announce my resignation." "I +resign!" shouted the King, appearing on a balcony overlooking the +court-yard. Deafening cheers greeted this announcement. "Bless you, my +children!" sobbed the King--"I am off to the station. Take care of my +poodle, and my pet parrot." + +At this the mob unanimously burst into tears. They insisted on +accompanying the deposed monarch to the station, the popular band +playing "_The Dead March in Saul_." But the King remained calm, and +marched on without swerving. At the station he took his seat silently +in the Royal Balloon, a whistle was heard, and the car floated off +into space. + +"I cannot say I think much of all that," said _Mr. Punch_. "In +our part of the Universe we generally manage to get a little more +bloodshed out of it." + + * * * * * + +VISIT TO URANUS. + +The next place that the distinguished travellers visited was Uranus, +where _Mr. Punch_ and his companion were much surprised to find the +entire population members of the legal profession. + +[Illustration] + +"I have really no time to attend to you," said one of the inhabitants, +when questioned. "I have an appointment before a Chief Clerk in +Chancery of great importance--it is to decide whether some children +shall be sent to school with money left to them by their grandfather, +or if it shall be saved up until they come of age? It would be better +for the children that they should be educated, from a layman's point +of view; but, then, this is a matter of law and not expediency." + +"And how will it go?" + +"Oh, of course, against the children. I am their father, and appear +for them. But the application is a good thing, although it's sure to +be unsuccessful--good for them, and good for me." + +"But how can that be?" + +"You are really very dense," said the Inhabitant of Uranus. "Haven't +you noticed that the entire population is concerned in one vast +Chancery suit; consequently, on attaining majority, one man becomes +a judge, another a barrister, a third a solicitor, and so on, and so +on. Why, the place would be a perfect Paradise to your friend Mr. A. +BRIEFLESS JUNIOR! It is, at this time of day, to the interest of no +one that litigation should cease, and so the Chancery suit, in which +we are all concerned, is likely to go on for ever." + +"But, surely litigation is expensive?" suggested _Mr. Punch_. + +"I should rather think it was," returned the wig-wearer. "The Law is +a noble profession, and it is only right and proper that those who +indulge in it should pay for it. In the present instance our entire +estate will be absolutely exhausted." + +"But how will you all live?" + +"On the costs!" was the reply, as the Inhabitant of Uranus hurried +away to attend his appointment. + +"Lawyers keeping a suit alive to live upon the costs!" exclaimed _Mr. +Punch_, in tones of pained astonishment. "I never heard the like!" + +And, horrified and sorrowful, he seized Father TIME by the forelock, +and once more floated into space. + + * * * * * + +VISIT TO CASTOR. + +[Illustration] + +Father TIME shivered, and wrapped his ancient cloak more closely about +him. + +"Come, come," said _Mr. Punch_, "I understand your disgust. But there +is still something left to us in which we may take pleasure. Upon +a neighbouring star the people delight in horses. All day long they +bestride them with a courage never equalled. Swift as the wind are the +steeds, and for mere honour and glory are they matched one against +the other, and from all parts of the star the populace is gathered +together in its hundreds of thousands to applaud and to crown them +that ride the victors in the races. Let us fare thither, for the sport +is splendid, and we shall there forget the pain we have suffered here. +Indeed, it is but a short flight to Castor." + +Thus speaking, he seized the Father by his lock, and floated with +him into space. The roar of the Pollucian streets grew fainter and +fainter, the lights twinkled dimly, until at length they disappeared. +Then gradually the land loomed up above them out of a bank of clouds, +and in another moment the wandering pair stood once more on _stella +firma_. + +[Illustration] + +They had alighted on an immense grassy plain, which stretched away in +every direction, as far as the eye could reach. On every side were to +be seen men and women and children, mounted on horses. To their right +a band of youths, arrayed in coloured shirts, white linen breeches, +and yellow boots, and wearing little coloured caps, jauntily set upon +their heads, were careering wildly hither and thither on swift and +wiry ponies. They were waving in the air long sticks, fitted with a +cross block of wood at the end, and were pursuing a wooden ball. Many +were the collisions, the crashes, and the falls. On every side men +and ponies rolled over in the dust; but they rose, shook themselves +as though nothing had happened, and dashed again into the fray. Father +TIME shouted with enthusiasm. + +"Yes," said the Sage, "you do well to cheer them. They are gallant +youngsters these. The game they play is 'Polo,' and though the expense +be great, the contempt of danger and pain is also great. They play it +well, but I doubt not we could match them at Hurlingham. But see," he +added, "on our left. What rabble is that?" As he spoke a panting deer +flew past them hard pressed by a pack of yelping hounds. Close behind +came a mob of riders, two or three of them glittering in scarlet and +gold, the rest in every variety of riding-dress. + +"Behold," said the Arch-philosopher, "a Royal Sport. These are the +Castorian Buck-hounds; that elderly gentleman is their master. They +pay him £1500 a-year to provide sport for Cockneys. The sport consists +in letting a deer out of a cart and chasing him till he nearly dies +of fatigue. Then they rope him and replace him in the cart. After that +they all drain their flasks, and consider themselves sportsmen. Poor +stuff, I think." + +"Of course," said the Father, "you have nothing of that sort in +England." + +[Illustration] + +_Mr. Punch_ was about to reply when a well-appointed four-in-hand +drove up, and a courteous gentleman who handled the ribbons, offered +the two strangers seats. + +"I will take you," he remarked, "to our great national race-meeting. I +assure you it is well worth seeing." + +The offer was accepted. A pleasant drive brought them to the +race-course. To tell the truth it was much like most other +race-courses. A huge crowd was assembled, and the din of roaring +thousands filled the air. As they drove up a race had just started, +and it was pretty to see the flash of the coloured caps and jackets in +the sun. The horses came nearer and nearer. As they rounded the bend +which led into the straight run in, the excitement became almost +too great for Father TIME. A torrent of sporting phrases broke from +his lips. One after another he backed every horse on the card for +extravagant sums, and the bets were promptly, but methodically booked +by _Mr. Punch_. A handsome chestnut was leading by two good lengths, +and apparently going strong, but about a hundred yards from the post +he suddenly slowed down for some unaccountable reason. In a moment a +bay and a brown flew past him, there was a final roar and the race was +over. The bay had won, the brown was second, and the chestnut a length +behind, was only third. "Most extraordinary thing that," said the +Paternal One; "I made sure the chestnut would win." + +"That's just it," broke in the owner of the coach; "the public thought +so too, and they've lost their money." + +"Just look at the mob," he continued, "crowding round the jockey and +the owner. 'Gad, I shouldn't care to be hooted like that. But, of +course, _they've_ made their pile on it; never intended him to win. +Just sent him out for an airing. Pretty bit of roping, wasn't it?" he +continued, addressing _Mr. Punch_. + +But the Sportsman of Sportsmen only frowned. + +"In the land we come from," he rejoined, "the sport of racing is pure, +and only the most high-minded men take part in it. Their desire is not +to make money, but merely to improve the breed of British horses. I +grieve to find that here the case is otherwise. Reform the Sport, Sir; +reform it, and make it worthy of Castorian gentlemen." + +His newly-found friend only smiled. + +Then he winked as he hummed to himself the words of a song, which ran +something like this:-- + + "Come, sportsmen all, give ear to me, I'll tell you what occurred, + But of course you won't repeat it when I've told you; + For with honourable gentlemen I hope that mum's the word, + When a horse you've laid your money on has sold you. + I presume you lost your shekels, and you think it rather low, + Since you're none of you as rich as NORTH or BARING. + But another time you'll get them back by being 'in the know,' + When a favourite is started for an airing. + +"That's an odd sort of song," said _Mr. Punch_. + +"Not so odd as the subject," replied the singer. "But you have only +heard the first verse; wait till you know the second." + + "'But they didn't tell the public; it's a precious, jolly shame;' + (Such behaviour to the public seems to shock it)-- + Now if _you'd_ been placed behind the scenes you wouldn't think the same, + But put principles and winnings in your pocket. + A gent who owns a stable doesn't always think of _you_, + And he doesn't seem to fancy profit-sharing. + And you really shouldn't curse him when he manages a 'do.' + With a favourite who's only on an airing." + +Before the singer could proceed any farther, a frightful hubbub arose. +A pale, gasping wretch, rushed past, pursued by a howling, cursing mob +of ruffians. As he fled, he tripped, and fell, and in a moment they +were on the top of him, buffeting, and beating the very life out of +him. + +"That's murder," said _Mr. Punch_. "Where are the police?" + +And he was on the point of stepping down, to render assistance, when +his friend laid a hand upon his arm. + +"Oh, that's only a welsher," he said; "he's bolting with other +people's money." + +"Is it the owner of the chestnut?" inquired Father TIME. + +"Bless your heart, no," was the reply. "It's only a low-class cheat. +The owner of the chestnut is--" + +But _Mr. Punch_ had no wish to hear or see more. + +He took TIME's arm, and together they floated away into space, to land +shortly afterwards in another sphere. + + * * * * * + +VISIT TO POLLUX. + +The street in which they had descended was situated in the heart of a +great city. The roar of traffic sounded in their ears from the larger +thoroughfares close by. Most of the houses were small and mean--a +remarkable contrast to one large building, brilliantly lighted, in +front of which a mob was gathered together. A more ruffianly-looking +assemblage it would have been hard to discover. The rest of the street +was filled with hansoms, the long line of which was constantly being +augmented by fresh arrivals, whose occupants sprang out and swiftly +mounted a flight of steps leading up to the entrance of the large +building mentioned, and passed through swing-doors of glass, which +gave admission to a broad passage. In front of this house the Sage +paused, and addressed his companion. + +"Venerable One," he said, for he had become aware of a reluctance on +the part of the Lord of the Hour-Glass, "have no fear. We are now, +as you know, in the metropolis of Pollux. This is the country of +the [Greek: pux agathos], the home of the noble boxer; and this," he +added, pointing to the glittering palace, "is the headquarters, I am +informed, of the boxer's art. Let us enter, so that I may show you +how the game should really be played. I like not the crowd without. +Within we shall see something very different." + +So saying, he linked his arm in that of the Paternal One, and together +they ascended the stairs. At the top stood an official dressed in a +dark uniform, his breast adorned with medals. + +"I beg your pardon, Gentlemen," said the minion to the pair, "are you +Members?" + +_Mr. Punch_ vouchsafed no answer. He looked at the man, who quailed +under the eagle glance, and, muttering a hasty apology, drew back. +A door flew open; the Champion of Champions and his friend passed +through it. They found themselves in a spacious hall. In the centre a +square had been roped off. All round were arranged seats and benches. +In the square were four men, two of them stripped to the waist sitting +in chairs in opposite corners, while the two others were busily +engaged in fanning them with towels. The seats and benches were all +occupied by a very motley throng. + +"Aha," said _Mr. Punch_, as he made his way to the throne reserved for +him, "this is good. I have done a little bit of fighting myself in my +time. My mill with the Tutbury Boy is still remembered. One hundred +and twenty rounds, at the end of which I dropped him senseless. But +that was with the knuckles. Here they fight with gloves. But of course +they fight now for the mere honour of the thing, I presume." + +[Illustration: A PAIR OF SPECTACLES.] + +But here the heroic Muse insists on taking up the strain:-- + + The Father spake--"O skilled in men and books, + Read me this crowd, inspect them, scan their looks; + See, from their shining heads electric rays, + Reflected, sparkle in their barbers' praise. + Lo, on each bulging front's expansive white + A single jewel flames with central light; + To vacant eyes the haughty eye-glass clings, + Stiff stand their collars, though their ties have wings. + What of their faces? Bloodshot eyes that blink, + And thick lips, framed for blasphemy and drink. + Here the grey hair, that should adorn the Sage, + Serves but to mark a weak, unhonoured age; + There on the boy pale cheeks proclaim the truth, + The faded emblems of a wasted youth. + All, all are loathsome in this motley crew, + The Peer, the Snob, the Gentile, and the Jew, + Young men and old, the greybeards and the boys, + These dull professors of debauch and noise." + + * * * * * + + He ceased. The Wise One gazed in silent gloom, + While oaths and uproar hurtled through the room-- + "Hi, there, a monkey on the Pollux Pet;" + "Fifty to forty;" "Blank your eyes, no bet;" + "A level thousand on the Castor Chick;" + "Brandy for two, and, curse you, bring it quick." + While one who spake to _Punch_ rapped out an oath-- + "Who cares?" he said, "I stand to win on both. + Fair play be blowed, that's all a pack of lies, + Let fools fight fair, while _these_ cut up the prize. + Old Cock, you needn't frown; I'm in the know, + And if you don't like barneys, dash it, go!" + One blow from _Punch_ had quelled th' audacious man, + He raised his hand, when, lo, the fight began. + + "Time! time!" called one; the cornered ruffians rose, + Shook hands, squared up, then swift they rained in blows. + Feint follows feint, and whacks on whacks succeed, + Struck lips grow puffy, battered eye-brows bleed. + From simultaneous counters heads rebound, + And ruby drops are scattered on the ground. + Abraded foreheads flushing show the raw, + And fistic showers clatter on the jaw. + + * * * * * + + Now on "the mark" impinge the massive hands, + Now on the kissing-trap a crasher lands. + Blood-dripping noses lose their sense of smell, + And ribs are roasted that a crowd may yell. + Each round the other's neck the champions cling, + Then break away, and stagger round the ring. + Now panting Pollux fails, his fists move slow, + He trips, the Chicken plants a smashing blow. + The native "pug" lies spent upon the floor, + Lies for ten seconds,--and the fight is o'er. + + * * * * * + + Thunders of cheering hail th' expected end, + High in the air ecstatic hats ascend. + While frenzied peers and joyous bookies drain + Promiscuous bumpers of the Club champagne. + +But _Mr. Punch_ had seen enough. + +[Illustration] + +"Do you call this one-round job a fight?" he said, as he rose to +depart. "I call it the work of curs and cowards. Who can call these +fellows fighting-men? They are merely mop-sticks. Men were ruffianly +enough years ago in the country we have left, but they were men +at any rate. Here, they seem to be merely a pack of bloodthirsty +molly-coddles, crossed with calculating rogues. The mob outside was +better than this. But, thank Heaven, we have nothing like this in +London." + +And with that he and Father TIME walked gloomily from the hall, and +found themselves once more in the street. + + * * * * * + +"What ho! my trusty Shooting Star," cried _Mr. Punch_. Whirr-r-r-- + +And in the thousandth part of a second they found themselves within +measurable distance of TOBY's own Planet. And here _the_ Dog speaks +for himself. + + * * * * * + +[Illustration: PUNCHIUS PHOEBUS, THE GREAT UNIVERSAL HYPNOTISER. + +("_He who must be Obeyed!_") + +A TRANSFORMATION SCENE.] + + * * * * * + +VISIT TO THE DOG-STAR. + +[Illustration: THE DOG STAR] + +"Take care of the plank, Sir," I said, as my esteemed master lightly +skipped across the gangway, marshalling a well-grown youth carrying +a scythe; "we don't have many visitors here. One who looked in the +other day slipped his foot, fell over, and we've never seen him since. +Listening intently, watch in hand, we heard a slight thud, and have +reason to believe he dropped on Jupiter. It was useful to us, seeing +that, by use of a well-known formula, we were able to reckon our +precise distance from that planet. For him, I fancy, it must have +been inconvenient." + +"Are you serious, TOBY?" said _Mr. Punch_, stepping with added +caution. + +"No, Sir, _I'm_ not. This," I said, waving my hand with graceful and +comprehensive gesture around the orb where I am temporarily located, +"_this_ is Sirius." + +"Ah, I see," said _Mr. P._, glad to find himself with his foot on +our native heath; "I want to present you to an old friend, whom, I am +afraid, you have sometimes misused. TIME, this is TOBY, M.P., a humble +but faithful member of my terrestrial suite. I am showing the young +fellow round, TOBY, and we looked in on you, hearing that you had a +Parliament that should serve as a model for the firmament." + +"I am afraid," observed TIME, whittling a piece of stick with his +scythe, "that we may have looked in at a wrong season. As far as I can +judge from a consideration of the temperature, and a glance round your +landscape, we are now at Midsummer--in the dog days, if I may so put +it without offence. Of course your legislators would not be in Town +just now, sweltering at work that might as well be performed in winter +weather, when, regarded as a place of business or residence, Town has +attractions superior to those of the country." "Ah, young fellow," I +said, perhaps a little sharply, not relishing his somewhat round-about +way of putting things, "when you are as old as me or my esteemed +master, you will not be so cock-sure of things. Our Parliamentary +Session begins on the threshold of Spring; we stop in Town hard at +work, through the pleasantest months of the year; we toil through +Summer nights, see August out, and, somewhere about the first week +in September, when the days are growing short, the air is chill, and +Autumn gets ready to usher in Winter, we go off to make holiday." + +"Dear me, dear me!" cried _Mr. P._, "how very sad. How deliberately +foolish. We manage things much better than that down in our tight +little Earth. When we take that in turn, you will find, my good TIME, +that we burrow at our legislative work through the Winter months, +getting it done so as to leave us free to enjoy the country in the +prime of Spring, and amid the wealth of Summer. But come along, TOBY, +let's get on to your House." + +"It will be no use going now," said TIME, holding up his hour-glass; +"it is five o'clock; the working day is practically over, and we shall +find these sensible dogs travelling off to take a turn in the park, +or pay a round of visits in search of the culinary receptacle that +cheers, but does not intoxicate." + +[Illustration] + +"Wrong again, young Cock-sure," I said; "we shall just find our house +of Commons settling down to the business of the night. We begin about +four o'clock in the afternoon, and peg away till any hour to-morrow +morning that one or two Members please. It is true we have a rule +which enjoins the suspension of business at midnight; but instead of +suspending business we can (and do) suspend the Rule, and sometimes +sit all night." + +"Ah!" said _Mr. Punch_, gravely shaking his head, "we manage things +much better than that at Westminster." + +Got my two friends with some difficulty across Palace Yard, eyed +suspiciously by the police-dogs on duty. One concentrated his +attention on _Mr. Punch's_ dorsal peculiarity. + +"We have strict orders from the Sergeant-at-Arms," he said, "to +examine all parcels carried by strangers." + +"That's not a parcel," I said, hurriedly, and taking him on one side, +succinctly explained the personal peculiarity of my esteemed Master. +"Humph!" said the police-dog. "Exactly," I responded, and he let us +pass on, though evidently with lingering apprehension that he was +allowing a valuable clue to slip out of his hands, as it were. + +"Wait here a moment," I said, "till I get an order for your +admission." + +[Illustration] + +Absent only a few minutes; when I got back terrible commotion; _Mr. +P.'s_ friend was in the hands of the Police; they had attempted to +take his scythe from him, and he had smartly rapped one on the head +with his hour-glass. + +"I've carried it a million years," he said, swinging the scythe with +practised hand, till he made a clean sweep of the police-dogs. + +"Make it a couple of millions, whilst you are at it, young man," said +a sarcastic police-dog. + +With some difficulty calmed him; explained that no one, not even a +Member, was permitted to enter House with a scythe, or other lethal +weapon. Only exception made once a year, when Hon. Members, moving +and seconding Address, are allowed to carry property-swords, which +generally get between their legs. TIME partially mollified at last, +consented to leave scythe behind chair of door-keeper, where the late +TOM COLLINS used to secrete his gingham-umbrella. + +"It seems to me," he said, "that the public are treated in this place +worse than jackals. Hustled from pillar to post, suspected of +unnamed crimes, grudged every convenience, and generally regarded as +intolerable intruders." + +"Ah," said _Mr. P._, "we manage things much better at Westminster." + +"Order! Order!" cried an angry voice, and _Mr. P._ and his companion +were within an ace of being trundled out of the gallery, where +strangers are permitted to see and hear whatever is possible from +their position--and it is not much. + +"What are they talking about?" asked TIME, in guarded whisper, being, +by this time, completely cowed. + +"They haven't reached public business yet," I explained. "Been for +last two hours debating a private Bill, providing that the pump-handle +in the village of Plumberry shall be chained at eight o'clock at +night. The Opposition want it done at nine." + +"Well, I suppose they know all about it," said TIME. "Probably been +down to Plumberry, examined into bearing of whole question, and formed +their opinion accordingly?" + +"Nothing of the sort; some of them don't even know where Plumberry +is--never heard its name before this Pump-handle business came up. +Don't even now wait in House to hear question, debated by Members +with local knowledge. You see only twenty or thirty Members in their +places. But, when bell rings for division, four hundred will troop +in, and their vote will settle the question whether Plumberry shall be +privileged to pump water as late as nine o'clock, or whether at eight +the handle shall be chained." + +So it turned out: In House of four hundred and seventy-nine Members +Bill was read a second time by majority of twenty-three. Division +occupied twenty minutes, which, with debate, appropriated two of the +most precious hours of the sitting. + +_Mr. P._ narrowly escaped expulsion, attention being awkwardly +concentrated upon him, owing to the exuberance of his delight +in recollection of how much better these things are managed at +Westminster. + +After this, public business was approached, beginning with questions. +Of these there were a list of eighty, the large majority on +exceedingly trivial circumstances. Nine-tenths of them could have been +answered in a sentence by the Minister addressed, supposing the Member +had dropped him a private note, or crossed the floor of the House, +to speak to him. TIME openly contemptuous at such a way of doing +business, more especially when, on question which appeared on +printed paper having been answered, half-a-dozen Members sprang up +from different parts of House, and volleyed forth supplementary +interrogations. Explained to him things used to be worse when +questions were propounded _viví voce_, and at length. + +"Now," I said, not liking _Mr. P.'s_ crowing over us, "the SPEAKER +will not allow the terms of a question to be recited. They appear on +printed paper, and are taken as read." + +"Then," queried TIME, "what are these Members putting questions +'arising,' they say, 'out of the answer just given? They don't spare a +syllable, and take up five times as much of the Sitting as Members who +put their questions on the Paper, and are not allowed to read them. +You don't mean to say that such a transparent evasion of the rule is +permitted?" + +"It looks very like it," said _Mr. P._; "but it's not at all the sort +of thing that would be permitted in our House of Commons. We make +Rules, and the Speaker sees that they are obeyed in the spirit, as +well as in the letter." + +By the time questions were over, following on the prelude of private +business, the evening was getting on. Members evidently tired out; had +crowded in to vote on the Pump-handle question; sat in serried rows +during the squabbles of question-time; and as soon as business was +actually reached, House swiftly emptied, leaving about a score of +Members. TIME more than ever distracted. _Mr. P._ increasingly perky. + +"Ho! ho!" he said, rubbing his hands, "I don't wonder at this Star +going to the Dogs. Stop till you come over to Westminster, TIME, dear +boy, and we'll show you how public business should be carried on." + +[Illustration] + +Explain to them that House is now in Committee on a Bill that had at +earlier stages occupied some months of the Session, practically the +greater portion of its working time. Now Session drawing to a close; +agreed on both sides that it is too late to conclude Bill this +Session; will be dropped after another night or two; Members knowing +this, do not think it worth while to give up more time to Bill. Next +Session it will be brought in again, and if the Government have better +luck, and get earlier stages through in less time, there will be a +chance of it passing. + +"What!" shrieked TIME, forgetting where he was, "you don't mean to say +that after devoting nearly a whole Session to a measure, laboriously +shaping it up to a certain stage, you chuck away all your work because +the Almanack says it's August? Why don't you, when you meet again +in February, take the Bill up at the stage you dropped it? Why don't +you--" + +Here our friend's observations were brought to a sudden close. TIME +was, as _Mr. P._ subsequently remarked, reduced to the status of +a half-Timer. Angry cries of "Order! Order!" broke in on his +unpremeditated speech. Two attendants, approaching him on either +flank, seized him, and led him forth under the personal direction of +the Sergeant-at-Arms. _Mr. P._, following his friend, and endeavouring +from the top of the staircase to assure him that, "we manage these +things better at Westminster," was promptly taken into custody, and +led forth beyond the precincts, a combination of circumstances that +interrupted and, indeed, as far as my friends were concerned, finally +closed what was beginning to promise to prove an agreeable and +instructive evening. + +_Business Done_.--_Mr. Punch_ and another Stranger expelled from the +Gallery, and TOBY's narrative completed. + + * * * * * + +VISIT TO VENUS. + +[Illustration] + +The two Travellers made their way through space in silence, but on a +sudden Father TIME plucked his conductor by the sleeve, and spoke. + +"Sir," he said, "I perceive in the distance a wonderful light, +and there is a sound of soft and beautiful music that attracts me +strangely. Shall we approach the light, and listen more closely to +these strains?" + +"Have patience." replied the Sage. "The light and the music come from +the planet Venus. Thither I am directing our course. In a few moments +we shall arrive." + +Even as he spoke the light grew brighter, the music of the invisible +choir swelled to a louder strain, and before the King of the Hours +had time to express his rapture, the pair had alighted in a scene of +veritable enchantment. Fairy-like structures of crystal, sparkling +with all the hues of the rainbow, rose on every side. Spires and domes +of the most fantastic but graceful design seemed to soar into the +clear and perfect air. All were bathed in a rosy glow, the source +of which was hidden. Spacious walks paved with huge blocks of opal +divided the rows of palaces. Along them grew tall and slender trees +of a curious and delicate foliage. Birds of Paradise, King Fishers +and doves flitted from branch to branch. The broadest of these avenues +ended in a sweeping flight of steps of alabaster which led to a vast +and perfectly proportioned hall, the roof of which was supported on +columns of pure jewels, diamonds, rubies, sapphires and emeralds. + +A throng of maidens, in classical attire and wearing wreaths of roses +on their heads, made their way along this avenue to where _Mr. Punch_ +and his companion were standing. Their leader, a fair and lovely girl +of seventeen, advanced to the Wise One and addressed him. + +"Sire," she sang in a low and gracious voice, "Our Queen has sent me +to say that she waits for your coming. She holds her Court in yonder +hall, and thither I am bidden to guide you. Is it your pleasure to +come at once?" + +_Mr. Punch_ signified his assent, the maiden took him by the hand, +and beckoning to Father TIME to follow, they walked slowly towards the +Royal Hall and mounted the steps. A double gate of wrought gold opened +as they reached the top, and passing through it, they found themselves +in the Court of Queen CALLISTA. A marvellous sight met their eyes. The +Queen sat on a raised throne in the midst of a throng of attendants. +She was of surpassing beauty. Her deep-blue eyes were set like jewels +beneath a broad low forehead on which a light crown of pearls and +diamonds rested. Her garments were of a soft gauzy material that half +concealed and half revealed the beautiful lines of her bust and limbs. +In one hand she held a spray of myrtle, the other rested lovingly +on the head of the magnificent hound who sat beside her, looking +trustfully into her face. The great hall was filled with beautiful +women grouped together here and there, some seated and some standing. +They were all talking. Suddenly the Queen raised her hand and +commanded silence. She then rose and thus addressed the two +visitors:-- + +"You have come from below to the Realm of Women. Here we abide as you +behold us. Age and decay hold aloof from us, and we order our lives +with wisdom and modesty. Speak, if you have aught to ask." + +"Pardon me, Madam," said Father TIME, somewhat rashly, "are we not +here on the planet Venus? and have I not somewhere heard strange tales +of what was done by ----?" + +But CALLISTA interrupted him. She smiled a beautiful smile. + +"Ah, yes," she said, "those stories are of the vanished past. Now we +blush even to think they might once have been true;" and surely enough +the whole charming assemblage became suffused with the prettiest +imaginable blush. "I will speak plainly with you," continued the +Queen; "for plain speech is best. No men live here. Therefore, we +dwell in peace. But we permit the fairest and best among our number +to descend from time to time to earth, and to dwell there in mortal +shapes for awhile. You may have seen them," she went on, mentioning +some names well known to _Mr. Punch_. "They are allowed to marry; but +only the wisest and noblest men may approach them. On earth their will +is free, and sometimes, alas, they fall away from righteousness, and +pass through bitter tribulation." + +"Yes," said the Fleet Street Sage, "We call it the Divorce Court--your +Majesty will pardon the rough speech of an old man--and, somehow, we +don't seem able to get on without it. But here, of course, you have no +such institution?" + +"No," replied the Queen. "There once was such a court among us, +hundreds of years ago, ere we had banished the men from our midst. +Now, however, we use the building in which petitions used to be heard +as our chief College. Come hither, ZOE," she proceeded, addressing +a sweet little girl of about fifteen. "Tell this wise gentleman your +solution of that pretty question relating to the concomitants of a +system of ternary quadrics." + +Without a moment's hesitation, ZOE stated the question, and, what is +more, solved it with absolute correctness. + +"Marvellous!" said _Mr. Punch_. "I congratulate you." + +"CYNTHIA," said the Queen, beckoning with her rosy fingers to +another maiden, "will you recite to me your Pindaric Ode on the late +foot-race?" + +CYNTHIA at once complied, and _Mr. Punch_ listened in amazement to +the resounding lines of an ode worthy of the great Greek. "Nor do we +confine ourselves to such accomplishments," the Queen went on. "We all +sew perfectly, our knitting is universally admired, and our classes on +the Management of Domestic Servants, or the true theory of Making Both +Ends Meet are always largely attended. Moreover, we do not neglect the +body. Some play at ball, some even form elevens for cricket, others +fence or play your Scotch game, or even lawn-tennis, and all dance +gracefully. See!" she cried, clapping her hands, "they shall show +you." + +[Illustration] + +At this signal delicious music burst forth in a strange measure, +swaying, rhythmical, and delightful. The maidens enlaced one another, +and moved across the floor in perfect time. Their bodies seemed to +float rather than tread the ground, as they passed the spell-bound +visitors. The dance ceased as suddenly as it began. + +"Your Majesty" said _Mr. Punch_, "your country is, indeed, highly +blessed, and your subjects are marvellously accomplished. You dwell +here without men, without chaperons, and you are lovely," he added, +with emotion, "beyond the power of words to express. Would that your +example could be followed upon earth!" + +And with this, he and the Father kissed the young Queen's hand, and +left the royal presence chamber. + + * * * * * + +VISIT TO SERIOCOMIX. + +"And so," said TIME, as he carefully arranged his forelock before a +mirror in the corridor, in reply to a communication recently made +to him by _Mr. Punch en route_, "and so we're to make a regular +rollicking night of it'? You insist on taking me into every Music +Hall in Seriocomix, hey, you young dog, you! Well, well, Sir, I'm not +so young as I used to be--but I'm as fond of a bit of good honest +wholesome fun as ever I was. So lead on!" + +[Illustration] + +They were in Seriocomix--a new and brilliant planet recently +discovered by _Mr. Punch_--by the aid of WELLER's patent +double-million gas-magnifying microscope (extra power). This star, +as all astronomers are by this time aware, is a howling waste of +extraordinary density, and occupied entirely by Music Halls, which +TIME, for some inexplicable reason, was desirous of visiting in _Mr. +Punch's_ company. + +_Mr. Punch_, though considerably TIME's junior, almost envied his +companion's boyish eagerness for pleasure; he was so evidently +unfamiliar with Music Halls. + +"If you are expecting to be vastly amused, Sir," _Mr. Punch_ ventured +to hint, "I am afraid you may be just a trifle disappointed." + +"Disappointed?" said TIME; "not a bit of it, Sir; not a bit of it! +Isn't a Music Hall a place of entertainment? You've plenty of them +where _you_ come from, haven't you? They wouldn't be filled night +after night, as I'm given to understand they are, if they didn't +succeed in entertaining, _would_ they, now?" + +_Mr. Punch_ felt a natural reluctance to betray the weak points of any +terrestrial institution. + +"Oh, _our_ Music Halls? they are perfection, of course," he said. "The +entertainments there are distinguished by humour of the most refined +and intellectual order. It only struck me that they mayn't be quite +the same _here_, you know, that's all." + +"We shall see, Sir, we shall see," said TIME. "I don't think I'm +particularly difficult to amuse." By this time they had entered the +dazzling hall, and, reclining on sumptuous seats, were prepared to +bestow their best attention upon the proceedings. A stout man with a +fair wig, a dyed moustache and a blue chin, occupied the stage. He was +engaged in representing a Member of the Seriocomican aristocracy with +irresistible powers of social fascination, and he wore a loose-caped +cloak over garments of closely-fitting black, which opened in front +to display a mass of crumpled white, amidst which scintillated an +enormous jewel. In his hand he held a curious black disc, with which +he beat time to a ditty, of which _Mr. Punch_ only succeeded in +catching the following refrain:-- + + "Oh, I 'ave sech a w'y with the loydies! All the dorlins upon me are gorn! + For they soy--'Yn't he noice! you can tell by his vice, + He's a toff and a gentleman born!'" + +And here the singer suddenly caused the black disc to expand with a +faint report to a cylindrical form of head-dress, which he placed upon +one side of his head, amidst thunders of approval. + +But TIME seemed rather depressed than exhilarated by this performance. + +"He ought to be kicked off the stage," he muttered. "I'd do it myself +if I was younger!" + +"You would make a mistake," said _Mr. Punch_; "he is just the person +that a Music Hall audience idolises as their highest ideal of a man +and gentleman--in Seriocomix." + +"At least," said TIME, "you wouldn't stand such an outrageous cad as +that in any of _your_ Music Halls, I hope?" + +A deeper tinge stole into _Mr. Punch's_ already highly-coloured +countenance. "Certainly not," he replied, with perhaps the slightest +suspicion of a gulp. "Our 'Lion Comiques' are without exception, +persons of culture and education, and, if they sing of love at all, it +is only to treat the subject in a chaste and chivalrous spirit. They +are worthy examples to all young people who are privileged to listen +to their teachings." + +"I wish you could send one or two out to Seriocomix, then, as +missionaries," said TIME. + +"I wish we could send them _all_," rejoined _Mr. Punch_, feelingly, +and they went on to another Music Hall. Here TIME had no sooner +perceived the artist who was upon the stage than he exclaimed +indignantly, "Disgraceful, Sir. This man is in no condition to +entertain a respectable audience--he is _intoxicated_, Sir--look at +his _tie_!" + +"I think not," said _Mr. Punch_, after observing him attentively +through his opera-glass; "he merely affects to be so because the +point and humour of the song depend on it. But he has evidently forced +himself to make a close study of the symptoms, or he could hardly have +produced so marvellous an imitation. Art does demand these sacrifices. +You will observe that he represents another Music-Hall ideal--the hero +who can absorb the largest known quantity of ardent spirits, and whose +prowess has earned for him the proud title of the Boozer King." + +It was a spirited chorus, and the accomplished vocalist reeled in +quite a natural manner as he chanted:-- + + "So every pub I enter, boys, + With welcome the room will ring; + Make room for him, there, in the centre, boys! + For he is the Boozer King! + Yes, give him a seat in the centre, boys. + Three cheers for our Boozer King!" + +[Illustration] + +But TIME's worn features exhibited nothing but the strongest disgust. + +"Is it possible," he exclaimed, "that this sort of thing can be +considered amusing anywhere!" + +"It is considered extremely facetious," said _Mr. Punch_--"in +Seriocomix." + +"What would they think of such a--such an apotheosis of degradation +in one of your Music Halls at home, eh?" demanded TIME. + +Privately, _Mr. Punch_ was of opinion that it would not be at all +unpopular. However, he was not going to admit this:-- + +[Illustration] + +"It would be hissed off the stage," he said, courageously. "The +fact is, that our Eccentric Vocalists have always shrunk from the +responsibility of presenting a national vice under an attractive +light, and so such exhibitions are absolutely unknown among us." + +"I respect them for their scruples," said TIME; "they have their +reward in a clear conscience," "No doubt," said _Mr. Punch_. "Shall we +go on?" And as TIME had had enough of the Boozer King, they went on, +and entered the next hall, just as a remarkably pretty young girl, +with an innocent rosebud mouth and saucy bright eyes like a bird's, +tripped daintily on to the platform. + +"Come," said TIME, with more approval than he had yet shown, "this is +better--_much_ better. We need feel no shame is listening to _this_ +young lady, at all events. What is she going to give us? Some tender +little love-ditty, I'll be bound?" + +She sang of love, certainly, though she treated the subject from +rather an advanced point of view, and this was the song she sang:-- + + "True love--you tyke the tip from me--'s all blooming tommy-rot! + And the only test we go by is--'ow much a man has got? + So none of you need now despair a girlish 'art to mash,-- + So long as you're provided with the necessairy cash!" + +And the chorus was:-- + + "You may be an 'owling cad; + Or be gowing to the bad; + Or a hoary centenarian, or empty-headed lad; + Or the merest trifle mad-- + If there's rhino to be had, + Why, a modern girl will tyke you--yes, and only be too glad!" + +As she carolled out this charming ditty in her thin high voice, TIME +positively shivered in his stall, "Are _all_ the girls like that in +Seriocomix?" he moaned. "I trust not." + +"It seems the fashion to assume so here, at any rate," said _Mr. +Punch_, not without a hazy recollection of having heard very similar +sentiments in Music Halls much nearer home than Seriocomix. "The young +woman is probably an authority on the subject. Are you off already?" + +"Yes," said TIME, as he made for the exit. "I think she is going to +sing again presently. Come along!" + +At the next Music Hall they were just in time to hear the announcement +of a new Patriotic Song, and old TIME, who had in his day seen great +and noble deeds accomplished by men who loved and were proud of their +Fatherland, was disposed to congratulate both himself and the audience +on the choice of topic. + +Only, as the song went on, he seemed dissatisfied somehow, as if he +had expected some loftier and more exalted strain. And yet it was a +high-spirited song, too, and told the Seriocomicans what fine fellows +they were, and how naturally superior to the inhabitants of all other +planets, while the chorus ran as follows:-- + + "Yes, we never stand a foreigner's dictation! + No matter if we're wrong or if we're right; + We're a breed of good old bulldogs as a nation, + And we never stop to bark before we bite!" + +And then the singer, a fat-necked man, in a kind of military uniform, +drew a sword and struck an attitude, amidst red fire, which aroused +vociferous enthusiasm. + +TIME seemed to be getting restless again, so they moved on once. more, +and presently entered a hall where they found a stout lady with a +powdered face and extremely short skirts, about to sing a pathetic +song, which had been expressly written to suit her talents. + +She began in a quavering treble that was instinct with intense +feeling:-- + + "Under the dysies to rest I have lyed him; + My little cock-sparrer so fythful and tyme! + And the duckweed he loved so is blooming besoide him, + But I clean out his cyge every d'y just the syme! + For it brings him before me so sorcy and sproightly, + As with seed and fresh water his glorsis I fill: + Though the poor little tyle which he waggled so lytely + Loys under the dysies all stiffened and still!" + +--And then, to a subdued _obbligato_ upon a bird-whistle, came the +touching refrain: + + "Yes, I hear him singing 'Tweet,' so melodious and sweet! + Till his shadder comes and flits about the room. 'Tweet-tweet-tweet!' + All my sorrer I forget. For I have the forncy yet, + That he twitters while he's loyin' in his tomb--'Tweet-tweet!' + Yes, he twitters to me softly from his tomb!" + +_Mr. Punch_ observed his elder attentively during this plaintive +ditty, but there was no discernible moisture in TIME's hard old eyes, +though among the rest of the audience noses were being freely blown. + +"Well," he said, "it may be very touching and even elevating, for +anything I know--but it's not my notion of cheerful entertainment. I'm +off!" + +"I should like," said TIME, rather wistfully, as they proceeded +to visit yet another establishment, "yes, I _should_ like to hear +something _comic_ before the evening is over." + +"Now is your opportunity, then," said _Mr. Punch_, taking his seat and +inspecting the programme, "for I observe that the gentleman who is to +appear next is described as a 'Mastodon Mirth-moving Mome.'" + +"And does that mean that he is funny?" inquired TIME, hopefully. + +"If it doesn't, I don't know what it _does_ mean," replied _Mr. +Punch_, as the Mastodon entered. + +His mere appearance was calculated to provoke--and did provoke--roars +of laughter, though TIME only gazed the more sadly at him. He had +coarse black hair falling about his ears, a white face, and a crimson +nose; he wore a suit of dingy plaid, a battered hat, and long-fingered +thread gloves. And he sang, very slowly and dolefully, this +side-splitting ballad:-- + + "We met at the corner, Marire and me. + Quite permiscuous! Who'd ha' thought of it? + She took and invited me 'ome to tea; + Quite permiscuous! Who'd ha' thought of it? + I sat in the parler along with her, + Tucking into the eggs and the bread and but-tèr,-- + When in come her Par with the kitching po-kèr! + _Quite_ permiscuous! _Who'd_ ha' thought of it?" + +There was a chorus, of course:-- + + "Quite permiscuous! Who'd ha' thought of it? + Who can guess what's going to be! + Whatever you fancy'll fall far short of it. + That's the way things 'appen with me!" + +It seemed that this was the first occasion on which the audience had +had the privilege of hearing this chaste and simple production, and +nothing could exceed their frantic delight--the song was rapturously +re-demanded again and again. Tears stood in TIME's eyes, but they were +not the tears of excessive mirth; it was almost incredible--but the +"Mastodon Mome" had only succeeded in rendering his depression more +acute. + +"A melancholy performance that," he said, shaking his head, "a sorry +piece of vulgar buffoonery, Sir!" + +"Aren't you rather severe, Sir?" remonstrated _Mr. Punch_; "the song +is an immense hit--it has, as they say on this planet, 'knocked them;' +from henceforth that vocalist's fortune is made; he will receive the +income of a Cabinet Minister, and his fame will spread from planet +to planet. Why, to-morrow, Sir, that commonplace phrase, '_Quite +permiscuous! Who'd ha' thought of it_?' will be upon the lips of every +inhabitant; it will receive brevet-rank as a witticism of the first +order, it will enrich the language, and enjoy an immortality, which +will endure--ah, till the introduction of a newer catchword! I assure +you the most successful book--the wittiest comedy, the divinest +poem, have never won for their authors the immediate and sensational +reputation which this singer has obtained at a bound with a few +doggerel verses and an ungrammatical refrain. Isn't there genius in +_that_, Sir?" + +[Illustration] + +"Ah!" said TIME, "I'm old-fashioned, I daresay. I'm no longer in the +movement. I might have been amused once by the story of a clandestine +tea-party and an outraged parent with a poker; I don't know. All I +_do_ know is, that I find it rather dreary at present. We'll drop in +at just one or two more places, Sir, and then go quietly home to bed, +eh?" They entered a few more Music Halls, and found the entertainment +at each pretty much alike; now and then, instead of songs about +mothers-in-law, domestic disagreements, and current scandals, they +were entertained by the spectacle of acrobats going through horrible +contortions, or women and little children performing feats high up +aloft to the imminent peril of life and limb. + +"With _us_," said _Mr. Punch_, complacently, "there is a net stretched +below the performers." + +"An excellent arrangement," said TIME; "and I suppose, if they _did_ +happen to fall--" + +"The spectators underneath would be to some extent protected," said +_Mr. Punch_. + +Then there were ballets, so glittering and gorgeous and interminable, +that poor old TIME dropped asleep more than once, in spite of the din +of the orchestra. At last, although several other places remained +to be visited, he broke down altogether. "To tell you the truth," he +said, "I've had about enough of it. At my age, Sir, the pursuit of +this sort of amusement is rather hard work. I'll do no more Music +Halls on this planet. But I tell you what I _will_ do. After all this +I want a little rational amusement. I want to be cheered up. Now when +will you take me round _your_ Music Halls, eh? Any evening will suit +me--shall we say Boxing Night?" + +"_Not if I know it!_" was _Mr. Punch's_ internal reflection--but all +he said was, "'Boxing Night?' let me see, I'm going _somewhere_ on +Boxing Night, I know. Well, I'll look up my engagements when I get +home, and drop you a line." + +"Do," said TIME--"mind you don't forget. I am sure we shall have +capital fun." + +"Oh, capital," replied _Mr. Punch_, hurriedly--"capital--but now for +(excuse the paradox) the Land of the Sea." + +And so again they started. But _Mr. Punch's_ presentiment will turn +out to be quite correct. He _will_ be unfortunately engaged on Boxing +Night, and so his tour of the terrestrial Music Halls with TIME will +be postponed _sine die_. + + * * * * * + +VISIT TO NEPTUNE. + +[Illustration] + +In a very short time the two august travellers found themselves in +Neptune. To their surprise they learned that the planet consisted +entirely of land. They were met by one of the inhabitants in full +naval uniform, who heartily greeted them, promising to show them +everything his country contained. + +"The only thing that must for the present be unexhibited is the sea," +he concluded. "Truth to speak, we have lost sight of it, and the +disappearance has caused considerable inconvenience." + +_Mr. Punch_ condoled with the son of Neptune, and asked what were the +chief amusements in the planet. + +"Well, badgering the Engineers is considered excellent +sport--especially just now when their services are not absolutely +required. We snub them and underpay them, we refuse them the rank due +to them, and lead them a generally happy life! Nothing of that sort of +thing down below, I suppose?" + +_Mr. Punch_ at the moment this question was put was probably thinking +of something else--at any rate he gave no answer. + +[Illustration] + +"But this is about the best thing we have here," continued the +Resident, pointing to a scene recalling the traditional pictures of +Greenwich Fair, "the Royal Naval Exhibition. You see we have pictures +and models and fireworks. Everything connected with the Navy inclusive +of ladies' foot-ball." + +"Ladies' foot-ball," echoed _Mr. Punch_, "why what has that to do with +matters nautical?" + +"Pardon me, _Mr. Punch_," returned the Resident in a tone of +impatience, "but to-day you are certainly dense. Ladies' foot-ball is +entirely nautical. Are not the ladies, as they play it, quite at sea?" + +The Sage of Fleet Street bowed, and admitted that second thoughts were +best. + +"And now you must really excuse me," continued the Resident, "for it +is my duty, as a director of the Royal Naval Exhibition to start the +donkey races. I suppose you have had nothing like our Exhibition down +below?" + +"Nothing," returned the Sage. + +[Illustration] + +"So I thought," was the reply. "If you have time, you can call upon +the Admiral Survival of the Fittest." + +"Gentlemen," said that illustrious official, after they had entered +his bureau, "it is usual to salute me by tugging at your forelocks +and scraping the deck with your right feet. While you perform this +operation, you will notice that I will hitch up my trousers in true +nautical style." + +"Oh, certainly," returned _Mr. Punch_, "Delighted! But, Admiral, isn't +that sort of thing a little old-fashioned?" + +"And what of that, Sir? In spite of everything _we_ still have hearts +of oak. We have _not_ changed since the time of NELSON and Trafalgar. +We can still run up the rigging (there isn't any but that is an +unimportant detail) like kittens, and reef a sail (there's not one +left, but what does _that_ matter?) in a Nor-Wester as our ancestors +did before us. And if you don't believe me, go to any public dinner +when response is being made for the Navy." + +"But if the ships have changed, would it not be better if the crews +had undergone an appropriate transformation?" + +"We don't think so. But, there, it's no use palavering. Some day the +matter will be put to the test?" + +"By a war?" + +"No; by the Fleet starting for a cruise in calm weather. Some say we +should all go to the bottom. But I am talking of the Planet Neptune. +On your little Earth, I suppose, things are _very_ different?" + +"Very," replied _Mr. Punch_. "_We_ have the Admiralty!" + +And considering this an appropriate moment for departure, the Sage and +his Venerable Companion floated amongst the stars. + + * * * * * + +[Illustration: AMONG THE DRAMATIC AND OPERATIC STARS. + +AIRY FAIRY LILIAN. + +KING ARTHUR. + +THE ONLY ADELINA. + +OUR ELLEN. + +OUR HENRY. + +THE GRASSHOPERATIC STAR. + +THE SOCIETY CLOWN. + +"O.K." + +OUR JOHNNIE.] + + * * * * * + +ARTISTIC STARS. + +[Illustration] + +"It's wonderful!" exclaimed TIME. "We haven't got anything like this +on Earth." + +"Plenty more where they come from," said his Guide Philosopher and +Friend; "but now just give me a lock of your hair, and I'll stand you +a fly through the artistic quarter." + +And Mr. PUNCH, like Beauty, "drawing him with a single hair," carried +the Ancient Wanderer along with him, past galaxies of talent, +musical, dramatic, and operatic, refusing to stop and gratify the old +Gentleman's pardonable curiosity. + +"I know I've got Time for it all," quoth the flying Sage, "but I +haven't space, that's where the difficulty is. As for Literary Stars, +from TENNYSON and SWINBURNE, to LANG, STEVENSON, BLACK, BESANT, and +our excellent friend, Miss BRADDON, with other novelists too numerous +to mention, we must leave our cards on them, pay a flying visit, and +just skirt the artistic quarter." + +"There's the President!" exclaimed Old TIME. + +"Ah! everyone knows _him_," said _Mr. Punch_--"artist and orator, and +ever a Grand Young Man, the flower of the Royal Academy." + +"Sir JOHN, too," cried TIME. + +"As fresh as his own paint is our MILLAIS," returned _Mr. Punch_. +"But 'on we goes again,' as the showman said, and you can pick out +for yourself the +Artist-Operatic-Composer-Painter-Etcher-Fellow-of-All-Souls, and +master of a variety of other accomplishments, yclept HUBERT HERKOMER; +then the gay and gallant FILDES, the chiseler BOEHME, the big PETTIE, +the Flying, not the Soaring, Dutchman, TADEMA, the always-purchased +BOUGHT'UN, the gay dog POYNTER, Cavalier Sir JOHN GILBERT, and the +chivalric DON CALDERON! There's a galaxy for you, my boy! Can you +touch these on Earth?" + +"Well," said TIME, slowly scratching the tip of his nose, "I fancy +I've heard of 'all the talents' before. Besides these, there are a few +more who are celebrated in black and white--" + +"Rather!" cried _Mr. Punch_, enthusiastically. "My own dear boys, with +JOHN TENNIEL at their head. But they're all so busy just now that I +couldn't take up their time." + +"But you're taking _me_ up," observed the aged T., slily. + +"Quite so," returned his guide--who if, _per impossibile_, he ever +_could_ be old, would be "_the_ aged P.,"--and then giving another +tug at his companion's forelock, he cried, "On we goes again! We'll be +invisible for awhile, and I'll show you our 'ARRY in the clouds. You +remember IXION in Heaven, or as 'ARRY would call him, IXION in 'Eaven. +Now see 'ARRY dreamin' o' Goddesses. Here we go Up! Up! Up!" + +And what happened is told by 'ARRY in the following letter. + +[Illustration: "PHYLLIS IS MY ONLY JOY!" + +QUEEN OF SONG. + +THE JERSEY LILY.] + + * * * * * + +'ARRY'S VISIT TO THE MOON. + + Dear CHARLIE,--I've bin on the scoop, and no error this time, my + dear boy! + I must tell yer my rounds; it's a barney I know you are bound to + enjoy. + Talk of _Zadkiel's Halmanack_, CHARLIE, JOHN KEATS, or the _Man + in the Moon_-- + Yah! I've cut all _their_ records as clean as a comet would lick + a balloon. + + 'ARRY ain't no Astronomer, leastways I ain't never made it my mark + To go nap on star-gazing; I've mostly got other good biz arter dark. + But when _Mister Punch_ give me the tip 'ow he'd take poor old + TIME on the fly, + Wy I tumbled to it like a shot; 'ARRY's bound to be in it, sez I. + + So I took on the Lockyers and Procters, and mugged up the planets + and stars. + With their gods and their goddesses, likeways their thunderbolts, + tridents and cars. + I jogged on with old Jupiter, CHARLIE, and gave young Apoller + a turn, + While as to DIANNER!--but there, that is jest wot you're going + to learn. + + It wos dry and a little bit dazing, this cram, and you won't + think it's odd + If yours truly got doosedly drowsy. In fact I wos napped on + the nod, + But the way I got woke wos a wunner. Oh! CHARLIE, my precious + old pal, + If you'd know wot's fair yum-yum, 'ook on to a genuine celestial + gal. + + "_Smack!_" "Hillo!" sez I, starting sudden, "where ham I, and + wot's this 'ere game?" + Then a pair o' blue eyes looked in mine with a lime-lighty sort of + a flame, + As made me feel moony immediate. "Great Pompey," thinks I, "here's + a spree! + It's DIANNER by all that is proper, and as for Enjimmyun--that's + _Me_!" + + [Illustration] + + For I see a young person in--well, I ain't much up in classical + togs, + But she called it a "chlamys," I think. She'd a bow, and a couple + of dogs, + "Rayther forward and sportive young party," thinks I, Sandown-Parky + in style; + But pooty, and larky no doubt, so I tips her a wink and a smile. + + "All right, Miss DIANNER," sez I. "You 'ave won 'em--the gloves--and + no kid. + Wot size, Miss, and 'ow many buttons?" But she never lowered a lid, + And the red on her cheeks warn't no blush but a reglar indignant + flare-up, + Whilst the look from her proud pair of lamps 'it as 'ard and as + straight as a Krupp. + + Brought me sharp to my bearings, I tell yer. "Young mortal," she sez, + "it is plain + An Enjimmyun is not to be found in the purlieus of Chancery Lane. + And that Primrose 'Ill isn't a Latmos. The things you call gloves I + don't wear, + Only buskins. But don't you be rude, or the fate of Actæon you'll + share." + + I wosn't quite fly to her patter, but "mortal" might jest 'ave bin + "cub," + From the high-perlite way she pernounced it, and plainly DIANNER + meant "snub." + Struck me moony, her manner, did CHARLIE, she hypnertised me with + her looks, + And the next thing I knowed I was padding the 'oof in a region of + spooks. + + Spooks, is bogies and ghostesses, CHARLIE, according to latter-day + chat,-- + And the place where DIANNER conveyed, me _was_ spooky, and spectral + at that. + "Where _are_ we, Miss, if I _may_ arsk?" I sez, orfully 'umbl for me. + Then she turns 'er two lamps on me sparkling. "Of course we're in + Limbo," sez she. + + Didn't quite like the lay on it, CHARLIE, for Limbo sounds precious + like quod: + But _she_ meant Lunar Limbo, dear boy, sort o' store-room, where + everythink odd, + Out of date, foolish, faddy, and sech like, is kept like old curio + stock. + (Ef yer want to know more about Limbo, read Mr. POPE's _Rape of the + Lock_.) + + "So this 'ere is the Moon, Miss!" sez I. "Where's the Man there's + sech talk on downstairs?" + She looked at me 'orty. Thinks I, "You're a 'ot 'un to give yourself + hairs. + I may level you down a bit later: The Man in the Moon, Miss," I adds. + Sez she, "We don't 'ave Men up here; they are most of them tyrants or + cads!" + + "Oh," sez I, "on the MONA CAIRD lay, eh, my lady?" Jest then, mate, I + looks + And sees male-looking things by the dozen: but then they turned out + to be spooks. + There was TOLSTOI the Rooshian romancer, a grim-looking son of a gun, + Welting into young Cupid like scissors, and wallopping Hymen like fun. + + [Illustration] + + Old Hymen looked 'orrified rayther; but as for young Arrers-and-'Arts, + _He_ turned up his nose at the old 'un, whilst all the gay donas and + tarts, + Not to mention the matronly mivvies, were arter the boy with the bow, + Plainly looking on TOLSTOI and IBSEN as crackpots, and not in the know. + + "Queer paper, my dear Miss DIANNER," sez I, "wot do _you_ think?" Sez + she, + "A mere Vision of Vanities, mortal, of no speshal interest to me. + _I_ am not the keeper of Limbo, although it is found in my sphere. + Everything that's absurd and unnatural claims a clear right to come + _here_. + + "See, the latest Art-Hobbies are ambling about with their 'eads in the + air, + And their riders are tilting like true toothpick paladins. SMUDGE over + there + Makes a bee-line for SCRATCH in this corner, whilst MUCK and the + Mawkish at odds, + Clash wildly, and Naturalism pink Sentiment painfully prods." + + Then I twigged Penny WHISTLER's white plume, and the haddypose HOSCAR + upreared, + His big hairy horryflame, CHARLIE, whilst Phillistines looked on and + jeered. + I see Nature, as Narstiness, ramping at wot Nambypamby dubbed Nice, + And Twoddle parading as Virtue, and Silliness playing at Vice. + + Here was pooty girls Primrosing madly, and spiling their tempers a lump, + By telling absurd taradiddles for some big political pump; + +[Illustration] + + And there wos 'ard-mouthed middle-aged 'uns a shaking the Socherlist + flag, + And a ramping like tiger-cats tipsy around a rediklus red rag. + +[Illustration] + + There wos patriots playing the clown, there was magistrates playing the + fool; + There wos jugginses teaching the trombone to kids at a bloomin' Board + School. + "This is Free Hedgercation in Shindy," sez I. "They're as mad as March + hares, + All these Limboites, dear Miss DIANNER. We do it _much_ better + downstairs!" + + She smiled kinder scoffish, I fancied, and give 'er white shoulders a + hunch. + Says she; "I've no comments to make. It's along of my friend _Mr. Punch_ + Whom the whole Solar System obeys, and the Court of Olympus respects, + That I wait on you 'ere, Mister ARRY. Pray what would you like to see + next?" + + "Well," sez I, with a glance at her gaiters, "I've heard you're a whale, + Miss, at Sport. + Do you 'know anythink' wuth my notice?" She gave me a look of a sort, + As I can't put in words, not exactly, a sort o' cold _scorch_, + dontcherknow. + That's a bit of a parrydocks p'raps; anyhow, it hurt wus than a blow. + + But we went on the fly once agen--can't say 'ow it wos managed, but soon + We 'ad passed to a rum-looking region--the opposite side of the Moon, + Where no mortal afore had set foot, nor yet eyes, Miss DIANNER declared. + "Here's a Region of Sport!" sez the lady. Good Gracechurch Street, mate, + 'ow I stared! + + Seemed a sort of a blend-like of Hepsom, and Goodwood, and Altcar, mixed + up + With the old Epping 'Unt and new Hurlingham, thoughts of the Waterloo Cup, + Swell Polo and Pigeon-match tumbled about in my mind, while the din + Was like Putney Reach piled on a Prizefight, with Kennington Oval chucked + in. + + There wos toffs, fair top new 'uns, mixed hup with the welcher, the froth + with the scum; + There wos duchesses, proud as DIANNER, and she-things as sniffed of the slum; + There was "champions" thick as bluebottles, and plungers as plenty as peas, + With stoney-brokes, pale as a poultice, and "crocks," orful gone at the knees; + + I see a whole howling mix-up of "mug" booky, dog-owner and rough, + A-watching of snaky-shaped hounds pelting 'ard 'after bits o' brown fluff, + I see--and the Sportsman within me began for to bubble and burn, + And I yelled, "O my hazure-horbed Mistress, can't you and me 'ave jest + a turn?" + + We _did_, and my "Purdey Extractor" made play, though it ain't me to brag, + But somehow her arrers went straighter, and 'ers wos the heaviest bag. + "Let _me_ 'ave a try, Miss," sez I, "with that trifle from Lowther Arcade!" + I tried, and hit one of her dogs, as she didn't think sport I'm afraid. + + The 'ound didn't seem much to mind it; immortal, I spose, like Miss D.; + Then we 'ad a slap arter the deer, and she'd very soon nailed two or three. + _I_ wos out of it, couldn't pot one, and it needled me orful, dear boy, + To be licked by a gal, _though_ a goddess, and armed with a archery toy! + + Her togs wos a little bit quisby--for moors as ain't pitched in the Moon, + And _there wasn't no pic-nic, dear boy!_ I got peckish and parched pooty + soon. + _She_ lapped from a brook, and her hoptics went wide as a cop on the watch, + When I hinted around rayther square, _I_ should like a small drop of cold + Scotch. + + Well, well; I must cut this yarn short. We'd a turn at Moon Sports like all + round, + Wish I'd time to describe our Big Boar Hunt--DIANNER's pet pastime I found, + Can't say it was _mine_; bit too risky. Pigsticking in Ingy may suit + White Shikkarries or Princes, dear boy, but yer Boar is a nasty big brute. + + Too much tusk for my taste! 'Owsomever DIANNER she speared him to rights, + And I dropped from the tree I'd shinned up when the boar had made tracks + for my tights. + "Bravo, Miss DIANNER!" I sez. "You are smart, for a gal, with that spear. + But didn't yer get jest a mossel alarmed--fur yer 'ARRY, my dear?" + + Put it hamorous like, with a wink, snugging up to the lady, I did; + For she'd found a weak spot in my 'art, this cold classical gal, and no kid. + I'd been 'aving a pull at my flask, up that tree, and her pluck and blue eyes + Made me feel a bit spoony; in fact I was mashed. But, O wot a surprise! + + "Alarmed? about _you_, Sir! And _why_?" sez DIANNER, with eyes all aflash, + I sez, "Don't yer remember Adonis, love, Venus's boar-'unting mash? + No wonder the lady felt fainty like; fear for a sweetheart, yer see. + And--well, if I'm not quite Adonis, _you found your Enjimmyun_ in _Me_! + +[Illustration] + + "One more, only one, dear DIANNER," I sez. And I aimed for a kiss, + I made for her lips, a bee-line. But great snakes, my dear boy, wot a miss! + Hit me over the 'ed with her boar-spear, a spanker, she did, like a shot. + Don't you never spoon goddesses, CHARLIE; you'll find it a dashed sight + too 'ot! + + "Adonis!" she cried. "Nay, Actæon! And his shall be also thy fate. + There is _Punch_ looking on, he'll approve!" And she jest set 'er dogs + on me, straight! + "Way-oh! Miss DIANNER!" I yells. "No offence! Don't be 'ard on a bloke! + Beg yer pardon, I'm sure!" Here a hound nipped my calf like a vice, + and--I woke. + + Leastways, I persoom it _wos_ waking, if 'tother was sleep and a dream, + But I feel a bit moon-struck, dear boy. Spooks abound, and things ain't + what they seem. + _Mister Punch_ sez, "it served me quite right." Well, next time + correspondence he'd carry + With satterlites, spesh'ly the Moon, he had better not drop upon 'ARRY. + +"Poor fellow, I pity him," said _Mr. Punch_ to Father TIME, as +the pair passed away from the Lunar precincts together, bowing +courteously, and a little apologetically, to 'ARRY's late hostess, +who called off her dogs, and affably responded to their parting +salutation. "Fact is," pursued the Sage, "my young friend 'ARRY, +though smart and _fin de siècle_, in his way, is a little of 'the +earth, earthy,' and lacks both the adventurousness and the tact of +an Ixion." + +"I presume," said the Scythe-bearer, "our inter-planetary +peregrinations are now pretty nearly at an end--for this time?" + +"We have yet one more visit to pay," said _Mr. Punch_. + +At this moment, as the space-pervading trio fleeted forward, a strange +unusual effulgence grew to the eastward, and began to bathe them in +golden light. Miraculously metamorphic was its action upon the aërial +travellers. _Mr. Punch_ flung aside his hat and his "Immensikoff," +and appeared as the Apollo-like personage he really is. TOBY's wings +expanded, and his pace mended. As for "Old Father TIME" himself, the +combined influence of the regenerating philtre in _Faust_, and the +fire-bath in _She_, could not more completely have transmogrified +him. His face brightened with youthfulness, his solitary forelock +bushed out into a wavy and hyacinthine hirsute crop, his ancient and +magician-like garments fell from him, his plumes expanded, until he +looked more like "the herald Mercury" than old Edax Rerum. + + Then they swung, as on airy _trapèze_, or on wings of the thunder-bird + strong, + With the sound in their ears of the voice of the starry and sisterly + throng. + Did the orbs of splendiferous Sol give a wink as they ranged into + reach? + Was his genial mouth all alight with the flame of the friendliest + speech? + Hey, Presto! Great Scott! Transformation on DRURIOLANUS's stage + Was never so sudden as this! Who rides there as the Sun-God? The Sage! + The Great Hypnotiser! Utopia's lord! He Who Must Be Obeyed! + He whose Magical Spell is on Princes and Peoples, on Art and on Trade. + _Houp-là!_ Transformation tremendous! The round of the Planets we've + travelled, + Some curious secrets unveiled, and some mysteries mighty unravelled. + _We manage things better on Earth!_ That's the formula! Sounds it + sardonic? + Was _Punch_ just a morsel sarcastic, his hosts just a trifle ironic? + At any rate, _Punch_ here explains to the World how to manage things + better, + By purging Humanity's spirit, and snapping Hate's tyrannous fetter. + He'd Hypnotise Man into health, both of body and spirit, and out of + The follies, and vices, and greeds, and conceits. See the whole + Comus-rout of + Absurdities, Appetites, Antics, Antipathies, personal, national, + Driven before his bright Sun-Car! The Rule of the Rosily Rational + He would inaugurate, making Earth's atmosphere healthy as Thanet's, + _That_ Father TIME, is his aim; _that's_ the Moral of _Punch_ and the + Planets! + +[Illustration] + + + + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Punch Among the Planets, by Various + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PUNCH AMONG THE PLANETS *** + +***** This file should be named 13244-8.txt or 13244-8.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/1/3/2/4/13244/ + +Produced by Malcolm Farmer, William Flis, and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team. + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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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 Among the Planets + +Author: Various + +Release Date: August 21, 2004 [EBook #13244] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PUNCH AMONG THE PLANETS *** + + + + +Produced by Malcolm Farmer, William Flis, and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team. + + + + + + +</pre> + + <h1>PUNCH,<br /> + OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.</h1> + + <h2>Punch Among the Planets.</h2> + <hr class="full" /> + + <h2>The Christmas Number, 1890.</h2> + <hr class="full" /> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page1" + id="page1"></a>[pg 1]</span> + + <div class="figcenter" + style="width:100%;"> + <a href="images/1.png"><img width="100%" + src="images/1.png" + alt="Punch Among the Planets" /></a> + </div> + + <h3>INTRODUCTION.</h3> + + <p>The Old Year was fast nearing its close, the night was clear + and starry, and Father Time, from the top of his observatory + tower, was taking a last look round.</p> + + <p>To him entered, unannounced save by the staccato yap of the + faithful <i>Tobias</i>, Time's unfailing friend, unerring + Mentor, and immortal contemporary, <i>Mr. Punch</i>.</p> + + <p>"<i>I</i> am not for an age, but for All Time," freely + quoted the Swan's sole parallel. "And very much at Time's + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page2" + id="page2"></a>[pg 2]</span> service," he added, throwing + open his fur-lined "Immensikoff," and lighting a cigar at + the Scythe-bearer's lantern.</p> + + <div class="figcenter" + style="width:100%;"> + <a href="images/2.png"><img width="100%" + src="images/2.png" + alt="Mr. Punch and Father Time" /></a> + </div> + + <p>"Happy to meet you once more, <i>Mr. Punch</i>," responded + old Edax Rerum, turning from what the poet calls his 'Optic + Tube' to welcome his sprightly visitor. "Awfully good of you to + turn up just now. Like True THOMAS's <i>Teufelsdröckh</i>, 'I + am alone with the Stars,' and was beginning to feel just a + little bit lonely."</p> + + <p>"With the Voces Stellarum to keep you company? You surprise + me," said <i>Mr. Punch</i>. "But what is all this?" he added, + pointing with accustomed eye to a pile of MS. at TIME's + elbow.</p> + + <p>If so old a stager as Father TIME <i>can</i> blush, he + certainly did so on this occasion.</p> + + <p>"Fact is, <i>Mr. Punch</i>," he rejoined, "I, like younger + and shall I say lesser Celebrities, have been writing my + 'Reminiscences.' Ha ha! <i>The Chronicles of Chronos</i> in + 6,000 volumes or so—up to now. This is a small portion of + my <i>Magnum Opus</i>. Can you recommend me to a + publisher?"</p> + + <p>"Ask my friend Archdeacon FARRAR," responded the Sage, + drily. "What a work! And what a sensation! TALLEYRAND's + long-talked-of 'Memoirs' not in it! Do you know, my dear TIME, + I think you had better postpone the publication—for an + æon or so at least. <i>Your Magnum Opus</i> might become a + <i>Scandalum Magnatum</i>."</p> + + <p>"Ah, perhaps so," replied TIME, with a sigh.</p> + + <p>"Alone with the Stars," pursued <i>Mr. Punch</i>, + meditatively. "Humph! The Solar System alone ought to provide + you with plenty of company."</p> + + <p>"Yes." responded TIME, "but, after all, you know, telescopic + intercourse is not entirely satisfactory. Like EDGAR POE's + <i>Hans Pfaal</i>, I feel I should like to come to closer + quarters with the 'heavenly bodies' as the pedagogues call + them."</p> + + <p>"And why not?" queried <i>Mr. Punch</i>, coolly.</p> + + <p>"As how?" asked his companion.</p> + + <p>"TIME, my boy" laughed the Sage, "you seem a bit behind + yourself. Listen! 'Mr. EDISON is prosecuting an experiment + designed to catch and record the sounds made in the sun's + photosphere when solar spots are formed by eruptions beneath + the surface.' Have you not read the latest of the + Edisoniana?"</p> + + <p>TIME admitted he had not.</p> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>"TIME, you rogue, you love to get</p> + + <p>Sweets upon your list—put <i>that</i> in,"</p> + </div> + </div> + + <p>quoted the Sage. "Something piquant for the 6001st Vol. of + your Chronicles. But, after all, what is EDISON compared with + Me? If you really wish for a turn round the Solar System, a + peregrination of the Planets, put aside that antiquated + spy-glass of yours and come with Me!"</p> + + <p>And, "taking TIME by the forelock," in a very real sense, + the Sage of Fleet Street rose with him like a Brock rocket, + high, and swift, and light-compelling, into the star-spangled + vault of heaven.</p> + + <p>"SIC ITUR AD ASTRA!" said the Sage.</p> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>"Twinkle, twinkle, Fleet Street Star!</p> + + <p>Saturn wonders who <i>you</i> are,</p> + + <p>Up above the world so high,</p> + + <p>Like a portent in the sky.</p> + + <p>Wonders if, Jove-like, you want,</p> + + <p>Him to banish and supplant!</p> + + <p>Fear not, Saturn; <i>Punch's</i> bolt</p> + + <p>Arms Right Order, not Revolt;</p> + + <p>Dread no fratricidal wars</p> + + <p>From this 'Star' among the Stars!"</p> + </div> + </div> + <hr /> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page3" + id="page3"></a>[pg 3]</span> + + <h2>VISIT TO SATURN.</h2> + + <p>"I am glad to hear <i>that</i>, at any rate," said Saturn, + welcoming the illustrious guests to his remote golden-ringed + realm.</p> + + <div class="figright" + style="width:60%;"> + <a href="images/3-1.png"><img width="100%" + src="images/3-1.png" + alt="Labor-Briareus and Capital." /></a> + </div> + + <p>Saturn, however, did not look exactly comfortable, and his + voice, how unlike "To that large utterance of the early gods," + sounded quavering and querulous.</p> + + <p>"It is customary," said he, "to talk, as the old Romans + rather confusedly did, of 'the Saturnian reign' as the true + 'Golden Age,' identified with civilisation, social order, + economic perfection, and agricultural profusion. As a matter of + fact, I've always been treated badly, from the day when Jupiter + dethroned me to that when, the Grand Old Man—who + <i>ought</i> to have had more sympathy with me—banished + hither the strife-engendering Pedant's hotch-potch called + Political Economy."</p> + + <p>"Be comforted, Saturn, old boy—<i>I</i> am here!" + cried <i>Mr. Punch</i>. "I am 'personally conducting' Father + TIME in a tour of the Planets. Let's have a look round your + realm!"</p> + + <p><i>Mr. Punch</i> sums up much of what he saw in modern + "Saturnian Verses."</p> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p><i>Punch</i>. Good gracious! my worthy old Ancient, + who once held the sway of the heavens,</p> + + <p class="i2">Your realm seems a little bit shaky; what + mortals call "sixes and sevens"!</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p><i>Saturn</i>. That's scarcely god-lingo, my boy; + but 'tis much as you say, and no wonder.</p> + + <p class="i2">Free imports have ruined my realm—I + refer to Bad-Temper and Blunder,</p> + + <p class="i2">Two brutish and boobyish + Titans—they've wholly corrupted our morals,</p> + + <p class="i2">And taught us "Boycotting," and + "Strikes," and "Lock-outs," and all sorts of mad + quarrels.</p> + + <p class="i2">I hope you don't know them down there, in + your queer little speck of a planet,</p> + + <p class="i2">These humbugging latter-day Titans?</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p> + <i>Punch</i>. That + cannot concern you—now can it?</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p><i>Saturn</i>. Just look at the shindy down + yonder!</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p> + <i>Punch</i>. By + Jove, what the doose are they doing?</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p><i>Saturn</i>. Oh, settling the Great Social + Question!</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p><i>Father + Time</i>. It + looks as though mischief were brewing.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p><i>Saturn</i>. Sort of parody of the old fight, + which was splendid at least, if tremendous,</p> + + <p class="i2">'Twixt Jove and the Titans of old. That + colossus, gold-armoured, stupendous,</p> + + <p class="i2">Perched high on the "Privilege" ramparts, + and bastioned by big bags of bullion,</p> + + <p class="i2">Is "Capital"; he's the new Jove, and each + Titan would treat as his scullion,</p> + + <p class="i2">But look at the huge Hundred-Handed One, + armed with the scythe and the sickle,</p> + + <p class="i2">The hammer, the spade, and the pick!</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p><i>Father + Time</i>. Things + appear in no end of a pickle!</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p><i>Saturn</i>. Precisely! That's Labour-Briareus; + backed up by "Bad Temper" and "Blunder,"</p> + + <p class="i2">And egged on by "Spout" (with a + Fog-Horn); he's "going for" him of the Thunder,</p> + + <p class="i2">And Gold ramparts headlong, <i>à + outrance</i>.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p> + <i>Punch</i>. But + look at the spectres behind them!</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p><i>Saturn</i>. Ah! Terrors from Tartarus, those to + which only Bad Temper can blind them.</p> + + <p class="i2">Those spectres foreshadow grim fate; they + are Lawlessness, Ruin, Starvation;</p> + + <p class="i2">To the Thunderer dismal defeat, to the + conquerors blank desolation.</p> + </div> + </div> + + <p>The Sage looked serious.</p> + + <p>These things, mused he, are an allegory, perhaps, but of a + significance not wholly Saturnian.</p> + + <div class="figright" + style="width:40%;"> + <a href="images/3-2.png"><img width="100%" + src="images/3-2.png" + alt="Mr. Punch and Father Time take their departure." /> + </a> + </div> + + <p>"Saturn, old boy" said he, "cannot what sentimentalists call + 'the Dismal Science,' which as you say has been banished + hither, do anything to help you out of this hobble?"</p> + + <p>"The Dismal Science," responded Saturn, whose panaceas of + Unrestricted Competition, Free Combination, Cheap Markets, + Supply and Demand, &c., have landed its disciples in + Sweating Dens on the one side and Universal Strikes on the + other, can hardly offer itself as a cure for the New Socialism. + Like Rhea of old, when asked for food, it proffers a + stone."</p> + + <p>"Ah!" quoth Father TIME, "you manage these things much + better on the Earth, doubtless."</p> + + <p>"Doubtless," replied the Sage, drily, as he and Father TIME + took their departure.</p> + <hr /> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page4" + id="page4"></a>[pg 4]</span> + + <h2>VISIT TO MARS.</h2> + + <div class="figleft" + style="width:28%;"> + <a href="images/4-1.png"><img width="100%" + src="images/4-1.png" + alt="Mechanical Sentry." /></a> + </div> + + <p>So Mr. PUNCH, holding TIME by the forelock, continued his + journey.</p> + + <p>"Where are we now?" asked the more elderly gentleman.</p> + + <p>"My good friend," replied the Sage of Fleet Street, "we are + approaching Mars, which as you know, or should know (if your + education has been completed under the supervision of the + School Board) is sometimes called the Red Planet."</p> + + <p>"So I have often heard. But why?"</p> + + <p>"That is what we shall soon discover. But now keep quiet, as + we have arrived."</p> + + <p>With the gentlest of gentle shocks <i>Mr. Punch</i> and his + companion found themselves on a mound, which they soon + recognised as a mountain. Looking below them, they saw masses + of scarlet, apparently in motion. It was then that TIME + regretted that he had not brought with him his telescope.</p> + + <p>"It would have been so useful," he murmured, "and if a + little bulky, what of that? Surely <i>Mr. Punch</i> is + accustomed to make light of everything?"</p> + + <p>"See, some one is approaching," observed the Sage of Fleet + Street, whose eye-sight was better than that of his companion. + And sure enough a lively young officer at this moment put in an + appearance, and saluted.</p> + + <p>"Glad to see you both," said he; "and, by order of the + General Commander-in-Chief, you are to make what use you please + of me. I am entirely at your service."</p> + + <div class="figright" + style="width:60%;"> + <a href="images/4-2.png"><img width="100%" + src="images/4-2.png" + alt="Private Tommy Atkins at his ease." /></a> + </div> + + <p>"Why, you speak English!" exclaimed <i>Mr. Punch</i>.</p> + + <p>"That is so!" returned the young officer in American; "and + why not? Besides I know French, Russian, German, and all the + languages spoken on your little globe, to say nothing of the + dialects used by those who inhabit the rest of the planets. + It's our system. Nowadays, a man in the Service is expected to + be up in everything. If he wasn't, how on earth could he fight, + or do anything else in a satisfactory fashion? And now let us + bustle along."</p> + + <p>"But first," put in TIME, who did not relish being silent, + "will you kindly tell us what those masses of colour are?"</p> + + <div class="figleft" + style="width:35%;"> + <a href="images/4-3.png"><img width="100%" + src="images/4-3.png" + alt="Troops in peace and in war." /></a> + </div> + + <p>"Certainly. They are troops. We put them in scarlet in + peace, but they appear in their shirtsleeves the moment war's + declared. Novel idea, isn't it?"</p> + + <p>And then the pleasant-spoken young officer led the way to a + lift, and, touching a button, the three descended from the top + of the mountain to the valley beneath.</p> + + <p>"On the counterweight system," explained the A.D.C. "We + cribbed the idea from Folkestone, and Lynmouth. And here, + <i>Mr. Punch</i>, is something that will interest you. We + absolutely howled at that sketch of yours showing the + mechanical policeman. Don't you know—old woman puts a + penny in the slot and stops the traffic? And here's the idea + developed. See that mechanical sentry. I put a penny in the + slot, and he pays me the usual compliment. He shoulders arms, + as I am only a captain—worse luck! If I were of field + rank he would come smartly to the present."</p> + + <p>And sure enough the mechanical soldier saluted.</p> + + <p>"It's not half a bad idea," continued the agreeable A.D.C. + "You see sentry-go is awfully unpopular, and a figure of iron + in times of peace is every bit as good as a man of brass. The + pence go to the Canteen Fund along with the fines for + drunkenness. It seems reasonable enough that a fellow, if he + wants to be saluted, should pay for the swagger. If a fellow + likes to turn out the guard, he can do it with + sixpence—but then of course he hasn't the right unless + his rank permits it—see?"</p> + + <p>By this time the mechanical soldier had returned to the + slope, and was parading his beat in a somewhat jerky + manner.</p> + + <p>"And now what would you fellows like to do?" asked the + A.D.C. "Pardon the familiarity, but nowadays age doesn't count, + does it? Everybody's young. One of the best <i>Juliets</i> I + ever knew had turned sixty, and played to a <i>Romeo</i> who + was twenty years her senior. Nothing like that down below, I + suppose?"</p> + + <p>"Nothing," returned <i>Mr. + Punch</i>.</p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page5" + id="page5"></a>[pg 5]</span> + + <p>"So I have always understood. Well, where shall we go + first?"</p> + + <p>"Anywhere you like," said the Sage of Fleet Street. "But are + you sure that we are not unduly trespassing on your time?"</p> + + <div class="figright" + style="width:70%;"> + <a href="images/5-1.png"><img width="100%" + src="images/5-1.png" + alt="The Intelligence Department of the Army." /></a> + </div> + + <p>"Not at all—only too delighted. It's all in the day's + work. We have a lot of distinguished visitors that we have to + take round. I like it myself, but some of our fellows kick + against it. Of course it doesn't refer to you two; but you can + fancy what a nuisance it must be for all our fellows to have to + get up in full rig, and bow and scrape, and march and + countermarch, and go through the whole bag of tricks, to some + third-rate Royalty? Ah! they are happier off at Aldershot, + aren't they?"</p> + + <p>"No doubt," was the prompt reply.</p> + + <p><i>Mr. Punch</i> and Father TIME had now entered a barrack + square, wherein a number of trembling recruits were standing in + front of a sergeant.</p> + + <p>"I am just putting them through their paces, Sir," said he: + "they are a bit rusty in bowing drill."</p> + + <p>The A.D.C. nodded, and, turning on his heel, explained to + the visitors that it was the object of the Authorities to + introduce as much as possible of the civil element into the + Army.</p> + + <p>"You will see this idea carried out a little further in the + institution we are now entering," he added, as the three walked + into a building that looked like a handsome Club-house. At the + door was an officer in the uniform of the Guards.</p> + + <p>"Hullo, HUGHIE," said the A.D.C., "on duty to-day?"</p> + + <p>"As hall-porter. CHARLIE is smoking-room waiter. I say, do + you want to take your friends round?"</p> + + <p>"Well, I should like to let them get a glimpse of TOMMY + ATKINS at his ease."</p> + + <p>"All right, you can pass. But, I say, just warn them to keep + quiet when they get near him. We have had no end of a time to + smooth him down."</p> + + <div class="figleft" + style="width:22%;"> + <a href="images/5-2.png"><img width="100%" + src="images/5-2.png" + alt="" /></a> + </div> + + <p>Thus warned, the Sage and Father TIME passed through the + hall and entered the smoking-room. Stretched at full length on + a couple of chairs was a Private, lazily sipping a glass of + brandy and soda-water, that had just been supplied to him by an + officer of his own battalion. On withdrawing, the A.D.C. + greeted the commissioned waiter who answered to the name of + CHARLIE.</p> + + <p>"Rather rough, eh?" said he, with a glance at a tray + containing a cork-screw and an empty bottle.</p> + + <p>"A bit better than Bermuda. If we don't coerce them, we must + be polite. After all, fagging turned out the heroes of + Winchester and Westminster, and wasn't Waterloo won on the + playing-fields of Eton?"</p> + + <p>"Rather a dangerous game, isn't it?" observed <i>Mr. + Punch</i>. "You'll have to fall in next, and TOMMY will inspect + you, and give you a couple of days' extra drill for not having + cleaned your rifle!"</p> + + <p>"Well, if I don't look after my arms, I shall have merited + the punishment; and, after all, it will only be a case of turn + and turn about," was the reply. Then the A.D.C. added, "Hang + me, too, I believe, with all we fellows have to do nowadays, + that if we <i>did</i> change with TOMMY ATKINS, we, and not he, + would have the best of the bargain!"</p> + + <div class="figright" + style="width:50%;"> + <a href="images/5-3.png"><img width="100%" + src="images/5-3.png" + alt="" /></a> + </div> + + <p>Leaving the Soldiers' Club, <i>Mr. Punch</i> and Father TIME + continued their journey. They had not proceeded far, when the + A.D.C. invited them to enter a building known as the + Museum.</p> + + <p>"It really is a most useful and interesting institution," + said the officer of the Planet Mars. "Here, you see, we have + portrait models of the officer of the past and present. In the + past, you will notice, he sacrificed everything to athletic + sports—if he could fence, shoot, hunt, and play cricket, + polo, and football, he was quite satisfied. His successor of + to-day devotes all his time to study. He must master the higher + branches of mathematics before he is considered fit to inspect + the rear-rank of a company, and know the modern languages + before he can be entrusted with the command of a left + half-battalion. Here again we have the uniform of an officer in + peace and war—swagger and gold lace on the one side, and + stern simplicity and kharki on the other."</p> + + <p>In another room <i>Mr. Punch</i> and Father TIME discovered + that everyone was fast asleep. There was a Cabinet Minister + supported by two minor officials—all three of them + absolutely unconscious. There were any number of Generals + decorated from belt to neck—any quantity of higher-grade + clerks—one and all slumbering: "This is called the + Intelligence Department of the Army," explained the A.D.C. "You + have nothing like it in England?"</p> + + <p>"Nothing!" returned <i>Mr. Punch</i>, as he disappeared.</p> + <hr /> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page6" + id="page6"></a>[pg 6]</span> + + <h2>VISIT TO MERCURY.</h2> + + <div class="figright" + style="width:60%;"> + <a href="images/6.png"><img width="100%" + src="images/6.png" + alt="Visit to Mercury." /></a> + </div> + + <p>Mr. Punch and Father Time were once again whirling on their + way through boundless space.</p> + + <p>They were approaching their next destination, and the dark + globe of the planet had just come into view on the horizon. + Rapidly it increased in size as they neared it, and the seas + and continents could be easily traced.</p> + + <p>"Dear me?" exclaimed <i>Mr. Punch</i>. "Why, I declare if + there is not something written upon it!" and he put up his + binoculars, "Why, it is nothing more nor less than a big + advertisement. Looks like humbug," he continued. "What's the + name of the Planet, eh?"</p> + + <p>"Mercury," replied Father TIME, with cheery spirit; "and + with that device they try to catch the eye of a passing + Comet."</p> + + <p>"Hum—they won't catch me!" observed the Sage, + brightly. "I brought my truth-compeller with me—a little, + patent, electrical hypnotic arrangement, in the shape of this + ring"—he showed it as he spoke. "I have only to turn it + on my finger, and it obliges anyone who may be addressing me + instantly to speak the truth."</p> + + <p>They suddenly found themselves deposited in the centre of a + vast square, surrounded by large palatial-looking buildings, + public offices, stores, shops, picture-galleries, gigantic + blocks of private residences, in flats five-and-twenty storeys + high, and other architectural developments of the latest + constructive crazes, fashioned, apparently, after the same + models, and on similar lines, to those at present so much in + vogue in that now distant planet, the Earth. There was a + profusion of advertisement-boards, these, in many instances, + entirely covering the whole façade of the building with + large-lettered announcements of the nature of the trade or + business conducted within. An eager and excited crowd thronging + the pavements, and hustling each other, without any apparent + purpose or aim, was pushing in all directions.</p> + + <p>"I wonder what all this is about," observed <i>Mr. + Punch</i>; "suppose we ask a Policeman?"</p> + + <p>They noticed a being attired in every respect like the + familiar guardians of the peace on Earth, except that he + carried a harmless and gaily-decked bladder in place of the + more serviceable <i>bâton</i>, and beckoned to him. He + approached with polite alacrity.</p> + + <p>"You want to know what's up, Gents?" he commenced, divining + their purpose instinctively. "It's the Half-Quarterly Meeting + of the Solid Gold Extract of Brick-Dust Company. There's been + some little talk about the dividend not being quite so good as + the prospectus led the shareholders to believe, and as the + shares have been mostly taken up by widows and orphans, some of + their friends, you see, are a little anxious to hear the + Chairman's Report. But, you see, it'll be all right."</p> + + <p>At this moment a widow, with blanched cheeks and dishevelled + hair, who had been listening with an anxious and eager gaze to + what the Policeman had been saying, joined the group.</p> + + <p><i>Mr. Punch</i> looked at her with mournful sympathy, and + slowly turning the ring on his finger, addressed the Policeman. + "Tell me, my good man," he said, persuasively, "is that the + truth? Is it really all right?"</p> + + <p>"All right?" rejoined the guardian of the peace in + amazement, but apparently unconscious of the purport of his + speech, "I should rather think not. Call it 'all wrong' and + then you'll about hit it. Why it's well known that the patent's + all <i>fudge</i>. It's the biggest swindle out. No more in it + than in this here bladder. But you'll see; the whole thing's + burst, and you'll know it in a minute."</p> + + <p>The words were scarcely out of his mouth when a roar of a + thousand angry voices, followed by a sudden rush from the + building of a mad and raging crowd, obliged <i>Mr. Punch</i>, + for a moment, to pause. When the uproar had somewhat subsided, + he turned to the Policeman, and pointed feelingly to the + unfortunate widow, who had fallen on to an apple-stall in a fit + of hysterics, and, locking his arm in that of his aged + companion, proceeded to cross the square. "Give us a song, old + 'un!" shouted a portion of the mob, who had followed them.</p> + + <p>"Certainly. Oblige them!" added <i>Mr. Punch</i>, taking a + banjo from one of the crowd and placing it in Father TIME's + hands. "Give them a stanza of the Ballad of Truth."</p> + + <p>He turned his ring, and his aged companion struck up the + following ditty:—</p> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>"Know ye the land where dwells only mock-turtle,</p> + + <p class="i2">Where wine that should gladden but makes + you fell queer.</p> + + <p>Where bayonets bend, where guns burst and hurtle</p> + + <p class="i2">Their breech in the face of their friends + at the rear,</p> + + <p>Where lamps labelled 'safety' with just terrors fill + you,</p> + + <p class="i2">Where water supplied you for milk is no + theft,</p> + + <p>Where pills that should cure, if persisted in, kill + you</p> + + <p class="i2">And the 'Hair Resurrector' takes all + you've got left!</p> + + <p>Where soap, that should soften your skin, only flays + you,</p> + + <p class="i2">Where a horse proves a screw though got + through a friend,</p> + + <p>Where the loss of your 'cover' confounds and dismays + you,</p> + + <p class="i2">Though assured by the <i>Firm</i> 'if you + hold on t'will + mend'?</p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page7" + id="page7"></a>[pg 7]</span> + + <p>Know ye, in fine, where by pushing and + 'rushing,'</p> + + <p class="i2">This—and much more, down the public + throat crams,</p> + + <p>Blatant Advertisement, brazen, + unblushing—?</p> + + <p class="i2">If you do, then you've spotted the + <i>Planet of Shams</i>."</p> + </div> + </div> + + <div class="figright" + style="width:60%;"> + <a href="images/7-1.png"><img width="100%" + src="images/7-1.png" + alt="Father Time and Mr. Punch confer with a policeman and a widow." /> + </a> + </div> + + <p>Though a few paving-stones were hurled at the aged singer, + the conclusion of his sons was greeted by a general roar of + laughter, the populace apparently recognising the picture of + their own chicanery with amusement and relish.</p> + + <p>After that they held on their way for some minutes in + silence. They had now reached the other side, and were + confronted by a couple of respectable-looking gentlemen of an + almost clerical aspect, who appeared to be catering in the + public streets in the interests of some institution. They + approached <i>Mr. Punch</i> and Father TIME, and offered them a + prospectus.</p> + + <p>"'THE DEAR LITTLE CHILDREN'S HAPPY AND ELEGANT BURIAL + INSTITUTION,'" read <i>Mr. Punch</i>, surveying the paper + presented to him, and continuing, "'<i>A trivial payment of + Ninepence a Month will ensure the youthful Subscriber, or his + Representative, a sweet and elegantly-constructed little + Coffin, beautifully frilled, with a one-black-horse Family + Omnibus Hearse, and a tray of Two Handsome Plumes. + N.B.—if preferred, payment of £2 19s. 6d. in cash on + production of Corpse.</i>'"</p> + + <p>They showed <i>Mr. Punch</i> and Father TIME up the front + steps, and ushered them into a large hall. It was thronged with + a crowd of dirty and raggedly-dressed people, and partitioned + off by a handsome and massive mahogany counter, beyond which + sat a staff of clerks busily engaged in keeping the books and + generally discharging the duties of the institution.</p> + + <div class="figright" + style="width:60%;"> + <a href="images/7-2.png"><img width="100%" + src="images/7-2.png" + alt="Mrs. Macstoggins at the Dear Little Children's Happy and Elegant Burial Institution." /> + </a> + </div> + + <p>"Ha, Mrs. MACSTOGGINS, and are we in your debt again?" asked + the Agent of a beetle-browed woman of a sinister and forbidding + expression, who was thrusting a paper across the counter to the + cashier.</p> + + <p>"Yes; and I'll trouble you not to keep me waiting, + either—seeing that it's gone three days since the + burial."</p> + + <p>"Is this woman demanding the insurance money for the burial + of her own child?" asked <i>Mr. Punch</i>, sternly. And he + turned his ring. "And pray, Madam," he continued, addressing + the beetle-browed woman, "tell me the truth."</p> + + <p>"Certainly," replied the woman, as if in a trance. "First, I + insured my own KATE—then I starved her to death, and took + the money. Then little BILL followed. I let him catch cold in + the winter, and gave him a night or two on the stones, and that + finished him. Then came TIM FLAHERTY, and I managed him with + the beetle-poison, and—"</p> + + <p>"Come," said <i>Mr. Punch</i>, taking Father TIME's arm once + more; "let us get out of this—I can't breathe here."</p> + + <p>Scarcely had they quitted the place ere they had to + encounter an appeal for custom, the Applicant being apparently + one of the big guns in the Mercury wine trade, and he was not + long in importuning <i>Mr. Punch</i> just to step inside his + office, and sample a delicious Lafitte of the 1874 vintage.</p> + + <p>"Now, try that, Sir," he said, at the same time offering + <i>Mr. Punch</i> a glass of the rich ruby-coloured beverage, + "and tell me what you think of it. We have a small parcel of it + still left, and could let you have it at the remarkably low + figure of 112<i>s.</i> the dozen."</p> + + <p>"It looks all right," drily replied <i>Mr. Punch</i>, "but I + can't think how you can sell it at the price." Then holding + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page8" + id="page8"></a>[pg 8]</span> up the glass critically, and + turning his ring, continued, "How do you manage it?"</p> + + <p>"How do I manage it?" replied the unconscious merchant, + laughing heartily at the apparent joke. "Why, my dear Sir, + there's not much difficulty about that. I just make it myself. + Listen to my receipt:—</p> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>"Potato spirit—that the 'body' finds;</p> + + <p class="i2">And then, as for colour,</p> + + <p class="i2">Be it brighter or duller,</p> + + <p>You see I am supplied with several kinds,</p> + + <p>And as to flavour, I get that desired,</p> + + <p>By adding various poisons as required.</p> + </div> + </div> + + <div class="figright" + style="width:60%;"> + <a href="images/8-1.png"><img width="100%" + src="images/8-1.png" + alt="Sampling a delicious Lafitte of the 1874 vintage." /> + </a> + </div> + + <p>Ha! ha! Let me send you in a few dozen." He offered <i>Mr. + Punch</i> an elaborate price-list as he concluded his + self-condemnatory verse with an obsequious bow.</p> + + <p>"Come," said <i>Mr. Punch</i>, once more taking hold of his + aged companion's arm, without condescending to give the + cheating tradesman any reply, "come—let us get out of + this. 'Pon my word, I think we've almost had enough of + Mercury!"</p> + + <p>"Their morality does seem to have reached rather a low ebb, + I must confess," replied Father TIME.</p> + + <p>"Nothing like this on our Earth, anyhow," continued <i>Mr. + Punch</i>, with a satisfied sigh of relief. "But come, we'll + hear what the whole people say of themselves. See here's a + chance. I believe there's a lot of them over there singing + their National Anthem."</p> + + <p>They listened as <i>Mr. Punch</i> spoke. He was right. There + was a vast crowd collected outside one of the principal + buildings on the other side of the square, and they were + clearly finishing some popular anthem in chorus, for, as Father + TIME and <i>Mr. Punch</i> paused to listen, the well-known + familiar refrain—</p> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>"Never, never, never,</p> + + <p>Shall be slaves!"</p> + </div> + </div> + + <p>smote their ear.</p> + + <p>"Capital! Capital!" cried <i>Mr. Punch</i>, approaching the + throng. "We'll have that again." He turned his ring once more + as he spoke, and the mob responded by shouting their second + verse.</p> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>"Fool! Mercurius!</p> + + <p class="i2">Of greed thy sons are slaves;</p> + + <p>And they ever, ever, ever—</p> + + <p class="i2">Shall be knaves!"</p> + </div> + </div> + + <p>"Come," cried <i>Mr. Punch</i>, "I think that judgment of + themselves out of their own mouths settles the matter! I have + done with them. Come, let us seek some healthier place. Up we + go!"</p> + + <p>He seized hold of Old Father TIME as he spoke, and bounded + with him upwards suddenly into space. In another minute they + were in search of a brighter, a better, and a truer world.</p> + + <div class="figcenter" + style="width:100%;"> + <a href="images/8-2.png"><img width="100%" + src="images/8-2.png" + alt="" /></a> + </div> + <hr /> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page9" + id="page9"></a>[pg 9]</span> + + <h2>VISIT TO JUPITER.</h2> + + <p>Father TIME with his glorious guide dropped gently down. + They found themselves in the centre of a bare expanse of dry, + grassy country, broken here and there by sand-hills. On their + right was the sea, dotted with ships. Parties of men in red + coats, and carrying in their hands curiously-shaped sticks, + were walking about in all directions. They all looked very + earnest, some of them were gloomy, some positively furious. + Occasionally they stopped, placed themselves in an uncouth + straddle-legged attitude, whirled their sticks, looked eagerly + towards the horizon, and then marched on again as solemnly as + before. One party in particular attracted the attention of + Father TIME. It was a large, mixed gathering of men, and women, + and children. They all moved or stood at a respectful distance + from the central figure, a benevolent-looking gentleman, with a + flowing white beard. He too wore a red coat, and carried a + stick. A crowd of attendants bearing more sticks followed + him.</p> + + <div class="figright" + style="width:65%;"> + <a href="images/9.png"><img width="100%" + src="images/9.png" + alt="King Foozler the Fifth of Jupiter greets the Emperor of Barataria." /> + </a> + </div> + + <p>"Let me explain," said the Arch-Provider of Merriment to his + companion, "this ground is known as Links; the game of 'Golf' + is being played. These gentlemen are golfers. The sticks they + carry are called clubs. That bearded old gentleman is the King + of Jupiter, FOOZLER THE FIFTH. He is playing his morning round. + I will introduce you."</p> + + <p>So saying, the King of all Clubs advanced with the + Scythe-holder, and, taking advantage of a moment when King + FOOZLER, having made a long shot, was in good humour, rapidly + effected the necessary presentation.</p> + + <p>"I know this game well," said <i>Mr. Punch</i>. "It is said + to be much played in my own country now. Permit me to have the + honour of playing one hole against your Majesty."</p> + + <p>The King smiled a gracious assent. His ball had been already + placed for him on a little heap of sand about an inch high. He + advanced towards it, anxiously measured his distance, waved his + club to and fro over his ball as if in blessing, and then, + swinging it through the air, struck—nothing. The ball + remained unmoved.</p> + + <p>"He's missit the globe," muttered one of the attendants; + "I've aye tellt him to keep his eye furrmer on the ball."</p> + + <p>Four times His Majesty, whose good humour was now entirely + gone, repeated the operation with similar results. At last he + hurled his club to the ground, breaking it into splinters, and + addressed his immovable ball in strong terms.</p> + + <p>"Allow me, Your Majesty," said <i>Mr. Punch</i>, as he + stepped airily forward and selected the king's best driver from + the heap of clubs carried by the chief caddie, "I think I know + how this ought to be done," and without a moment's hesitation + he delivered his stroke. The ball flew true and far until it + was merely a speck in the air, and finally dropped down about a + quarter of a mile away. "You will find it in the hole," said + the Golfer of Golfers, carelessly turning to the discomfited + King; "Oh, my Royal and Ancient One," he continued, "there are + certain things we do better in another country, and Golf is one + of them."</p> + + <p>But at this moment a great commotion arose. A messenger on a + foaming steed dashed up, and handed a despatch to the king, who + at once read it.</p> + + <p>"Dear me!" said His Majesty, "this is most annoying. The + Emperor of BARATARIA is to arrive in half an hour. He's a bit + of a young prig, and bores me dreadfully—but we must meet + him." With that he retired at once to the nearest palace, to + change his uniform. In about ten minutes he came forth a + changed man. On his head glittered an immense helmet, with a + waving plume; a tunic of gold lace was buttoned tightly round + his chest. Row upon row of stars and medals encircled him like + so many belts; his legs were hidden in an enormous pair of + jack-boots, to which were fixed a pair of huge Mexican spurs. + An immense sword dangled at his side.</p> + + <p>"This," said the King, as he motioned <i>Mr. Punch</i> and + Father TIME into his state carriage, and vaulted in after them + with as much agility as his sword and boots would permit, "is + the uniform of the Baratarian Die-hards, of which regiment I am + honorary Colonel."</p> + + <p>Thus they drove to the balloon station, at which the + Imperial guest was expected. After a few minutes, a sound of + cheering was heard.</p> + + <p>"He's coming," observed the King. "Have I got my kissing + face on?"</p> + + <p><i>Mr. Punch</i> reassured him. A moment afterwards the + state-balloon of BARATARIA soared up to the platform, and a + young man, gorgeously attired in the uniform of the Tenth + (Jupiter's Own) Lancers, sprang lightly from it.</p> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Loud pealed the loyal anthem, and rattled all the + drums,</p> + + <p>And, as the guard presented, the cry went up, "He + comes!"</p> + + <p>He steps upon the platform, and, while the plaudits + ring,</p> + + <p>A King hangs round an Emperor's neck, an Emperor + hugs a King;</p> + + <p>And, with impartial kisses on both cheeks duly + pressed,</p> + + <p>The guest does homage to his host, the host salutes + his guest.</p> + </div> + </div> + + <p>The Emperor then, having shaken <i>Mr. Punch</i> warmly by + the hand, departed with his royal host. After this, the three + potentates, <i>Punch</i> the Only, FOOZLER THE FIFTH, and the + Baratarian Emperor, called upon one another at intervals of + half an hour. This process occupied the afternoon.</p> + + <p>For the evening a state-ball at the Royal Palace had been + announced. Thither, at the appointed hour, <i>Mr. Punch</i> and + his hoary associate were conveyed. As they approached, the + royal band struck up a martial air, the Lord Chamberlain + advanced to meet them, and ushered them into the magnificent + hall in which the guests were assembling. From this a wide + double staircase led up to a marble gallery. Hall, gallery, and + staircase were filled with a brilliant crowd; the men arrayed + in every variety of uniform; the + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page10" + id="page10"></a>[pg 10]</span> ladies, to a woman, in + V-shaped dresses, the openness of which appeared to vary in + a direct ratio to the age of their wearers.</p> + + <div class="figcenter" + style="width:100%;"> + <a href="images/10.png"><img width="100%" + src="images/10.png" + alt="The state ball." /></a> + </div> + + <p>"We will repose awhile," <i>Mr. Punch</i> remarked to the + Father, "and scan the multitude. This, my dear Tempus, is the + pick of Society. That stout lady, with a face like a haughty + turtle, is the Duchess of DOUBLECHIN; that graceful little + woman next to her is Lady ANGELINA BATTLEAXE—she is a + dress-maker."</p> + + <p>"A what?" inquired Father + TIME.</p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page11" + id="page11"></a>[pg 11]</span> + + <p>"A dress-maker," answered the Master, calmly.</p> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>"In her shop, ancient notions forsaking,</p> + + <p class="i2">The proud ANGELINA unbends;</p> + + <p>And her figure's a tall one for making</p> + + <p class="i2">A fit for the figures of friends.</p> + + <p>Our cynical latter-day Catos</p> + + <p class="i2">Are dumb when invited to dine</p> + + <p>With a Marquis who deals in potatoes,</p> + + <p class="i2">Or an Earl who takes orders for wine.</p> + + <p>And, though old-fashioned folk think it funny,</p> + + <p class="i2">It's as common as death, or as debts,</p> + + <p>To find gentlemen making their money</p> + + <p class="i2">Out of shops for the making of bets.</p> + </div> + </div> + + <p>The stout puffy old fellow there is the wealthiest man in + Jupiter. He floats mines, asteroid mines mostly, and makes it + pay him. He can command the very best society. Those ladies + clustering round the Prince-Royal come from over the ocean. + Pretty, but twangy. A fresh consignment arrives every year. And + the Prince-Royal has the pick of them."</p> + + <div class="figleft" + style="width:35%;"> + <a href="images/11-1.png"><img width="100%" + src="images/11-1.png" + alt="" /></a> + </div> + + <p>But before <i>Mr. Punch</i> could finish his explanatory + sketch, a tremendous uproar was heard in the court-yard of the + Palace. There was a sound as of a huge mob shouting in unison, + shots were heard, and cries of "Liberty for Ever:" vent the + air. The royal guests were in a state of terrible agitation. An + orderly covered with mud forced his way through the crowd, up + the stairs, and stood before the King.</p> + + <p>"Your Majesty," he panted, "a revolution has broken out. The + populace has erected barricades, the deposition of your House + has been declared, and a Republic proclaimed. The mob is now + marching to the Palace."</p> + + <p>The King drew himself up to his full height. Where are my + Golf-clubs? he asked in a calm voice.</p> + + <p>"Your Majesty, they have been seized and secreted."</p> + + <p>"Then all is lost. It only remains for me to depart," was + the King's heartbroken reply. "I will, in person, announce my + resignation." "I resign!" shouted the King, appearing on a + balcony overlooking the court-yard. Deafening cheers greeted + this announcement. "Bless you, my children!" sobbed the + King—"I am off to the station. Take care of my poodle, + and my pet parrot."</p> + + <p>At this the mob unanimously burst into tears. They insisted + on accompanying the deposed monarch to the station, the popular + band playing "<i>The Dead March in Saul</i>." But the King + remained calm, and marched on without swerving. At the station + he took his seat silently in the Royal Balloon, a whistle was + heard, and the car floated off into space.</p> + + <p>"I cannot say I think much of all that," said <i>Mr. + Punch</i>. "In our part of the Universe we generally manage to + get a little more bloodshed out of it."</p> + <hr /> + + <h2>VISIT TO URANUS.</h2> + + <p>The next place that the distinguished travellers visited was + Uranus, where <i>Mr. Punch</i> and his companion were much + surprised to find the entire population members of the legal + profession.</p> + + <div class="figright" + style="width:40%;"> + <a href="images/11-2.png"><img width="100%" + src="images/11-2.png" + alt="An Inhabitant of Uranus." /></a> + </div> + + <p>"I have really no time to attend to you," said one of the + inhabitants, when questioned. "I have an appointment before a + Chief Clerk in Chancery of great importance—it is to + decide whether some children shall be sent to school with money + left to them by their grandfather, or if it shall be saved up + until they come of age? It would be better for the children + that they should be educated, from a layman's point of view; + but, then, this is a matter of law and not expediency."</p> + + <p>"And how will it go?"</p> + + <p>"Oh, of course, against the children. I am their father, and + appear for them. But the application is a good thing, although + it's sure to be unsuccessful—good for them, and good for + me."</p> + + <p>"But how can that be?"</p> + + <p>"You are really very dense," said the Inhabitant of Uranus. + "Haven't you noticed that the entire population is concerned in + one vast Chancery suit; consequently, on attaining majority, + one man becomes a judge, another a barrister, a third a + solicitor, and so on, and so on. Why, the place would be a + perfect Paradise to your friend Mr. A. BRIEFLESS JUNIOR! It is, + at this time of day, to the interest of no one that litigation + should cease, and so the Chancery suit, in which we are all + concerned, is likely to go on for ever."</p> + + <p>"But, surely litigation is expensive?" suggested <i>Mr. + Punch</i>.</p> + + <p>"I should rather think it was," returned the wig-wearer. + "The Law is a noble profession, and it is only right and proper + that those who indulge in it should pay for it. In the present + instance our entire estate will be absolutely exhausted."</p> + + <p>"But how will you all live?"</p> + + <p>"On the costs!" was the reply, as the Inhabitant of Uranus + hurried away to attend his appointment.</p> + + <p>"Lawyers keeping a suit alive to live upon the costs!" + exclaimed <i>Mr. Punch</i>, in tones of pained astonishment. "I + never heard the like!"</p> + + <p>And, horrified and sorrowful, he seized Father TIME by the + forelock, and once more floated into space.</p> + <hr /> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page12" + id="page12"></a>[pg 12]</span> + + <h2>VISIT TO CASTOR.</h2> + + <div class="figleft" + style="width:40%;"> + <a href="images/12-1.png"><img width="100%" + src="images/12-1.png" + alt="Polo on Castor." /></a> + </div> + + <p>Father TIME shivered, and wrapped his ancient cloak more + closely about him.</p> + + <p>"Come, come," said <i>Mr. Punch</i>, "I understand your + disgust. But there is still something left to us in which we + may take pleasure. Upon a neighbouring star the people delight + in horses. All day long they bestride them with a courage never + equalled. Swift as the wind are the steeds, and for mere honour + and glory are they matched one against the other, and from all + parts of the star the populace is gathered together in its + hundreds of thousands to applaud and to crown them that ride + the victors in the races. Let us fare thither, for the sport is + splendid, and we shall there forget the pain we have suffered + here. Indeed, it is but a short flight to Castor."</p> + + <p>Thus speaking, he seized the Father by his lock, and floated + with him into space. The roar of the Pollucian streets grew + fainter and fainter, the lights twinkled dimly, until at length + they disappeared. Then gradually the land loomed up above them + out of a bank of clouds, and in another moment the wandering + pair stood once more on <i>stella firma</i>.</p> + + <div class="figright" + style="width:40%;"> + <a href="images/12-2.png"><img width="100%" + src="images/12-2.png" + alt="A royal sport." /></a> + </div> + + <p>They had alighted on an immense grassy plain, which + stretched away in every direction, as far as the eye could + reach. On every side were to be seen men and women and + children, mounted on horses. To their right a band of youths, + arrayed in coloured shirts, white linen breeches, and yellow + boots, and wearing little coloured caps, jauntily set upon + their heads, were careering wildly hither and thither on swift + and wiry ponies. They were waving in the air long sticks, + fitted with a cross block of wood at the end, and were pursuing + a wooden ball. Many were the collisions, the crashes, and the + falls. On every side men and ponies rolled over in the dust; + but they rose, shook themselves as though nothing had happened, + and dashed again into the fray. Father TIME shouted with + enthusiasm.</p> + + <p>"Yes," said the Sage, "you do well to cheer them. They are + gallant youngsters these. The game they play is 'Polo,' and + though the expense be great, the contempt of danger and pain is + also great. They play it well, but I doubt not we could match + them at Hurlingham. But see," he added, "on our left. What + rabble is that?" As he spoke a panting deer flew past them hard + pressed by a pack of yelping hounds. Close behind came a mob of + riders, two or three of them glittering in scarlet and gold, + the rest in every variety of riding-dress.</p> + + <p>"Behold," said the Arch-philosopher, "a Royal Sport. These + are the Castorian Buck-hounds; that elderly gentleman is their + master. They pay him £1500 a-year to provide sport for + Cockneys. The sport consists in letting a deer out of a cart + and chasing him till he nearly dies of fatigue. Then they rope + him and replace him in the cart. After that they all drain + their flasks, and consider themselves sportsmen. Poor stuff, I + think."</p> + + <p>"Of course," said the Father, "you have nothing of that sort + in England."</p> + + <div class="figleft" + style="width:40%;"> + <a href="images/12-3.png"><img width="100%" + src="images/12-3.png" + alt="Aboard the fou-in-hand." /></a> + </div> + + <p><i>Mr. Punch</i> was about to reply when a well-appointed + four-in-hand drove up, and a courteous gentleman who handled + the ribbons, offered the two strangers seats.</p> + + <p>"I will take you," he remarked, "to our great national + race-meeting. I assure you it is well worth seeing."</p> + + <p>The offer was accepted. A pleasant drive brought them to the + race-course. To tell the truth it was much like most other + race-courses. A huge crowd was assembled, and the din of + roaring thousands filled the air. As they drove up a race had + just started, and it was pretty to see the flash of the + coloured caps and jackets in the sun. The horses came nearer + and nearer. As they rounded the bend which led into the + straight run in, the excitement became almost too great for + Father TIME. A torrent of sporting phrases broke from his lips. + One after another he backed every horse on the card for + extravagant sums, and the bets were promptly, but methodically + booked by <i>Mr. Punch</i>. A handsome chestnut was leading by + two good lengths, and apparently going strong, but about a + hundred yards from the post he suddenly slowed down for some + unaccountable reason. In a moment a bay and a brown flew past + him, there was a final roar and the race was over. The bay had + won, the brown was second, and the chestnut a length behind, + was only third. "Most extraordinary thing that," said the + Paternal One; "I made sure the chestnut would + win."</p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page13" + id="page13"></a>[pg 13]</span> + + <div class="figright" + style="width:50%;"> + <a href="images/13-2.png"><img width="100%" + src="images/13-1.png" + alt="The horse race." /></a> + </div> + + <p>"That's just it," broke in the owner of the coach; "the + public thought so too, and they've lost their money."</p> + + <p>"Just look at the mob," he continued, "crowding round the + jockey and the owner. 'Gad, I shouldn't care to be hooted like + that. But, of course, <i>they've</i> made their pile on it; + never intended him to win. Just sent him out for an airing. + Pretty bit of roping, wasn't it?" he continued, addressing + <i>Mr. Punch</i>.</p> + + <p>But the Sportsman of Sportsmen only frowned.</p> + + <p>"In the land we come from," he rejoined, "the sport of + racing is pure, and only the most high-minded men take part in + it. Their desire is not to make money, but merely to improve + the breed of British horses. I grieve to find that here the + case is otherwise. Reform the Sport, Sir; reform it, and make + it worthy of Castorian gentlemen."</p> + + <p>His newly-found friend only smiled.</p> + + <p>Then he winked as he hummed to himself the words of a song, + which ran something like this:—</p> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>"Come, sportsmen all, give ear to me, I'll tell you + what occurred,</p> + + <p class="i2">But of course you won't repeat it when + I've told you;</p> + + <p>For with honourable gentlemen I hope that mum's the + word,</p> + + <p class="i2">When a horse you've laid your money on + has sold you.</p> + + <p>I presume you lost your shekels, and you think it + rather low,</p> + + <p class="i2">Since you're none of you as rich as NORTH + or BARING.</p> + + <p>But another time you'll get them back by being 'in + the know,'</p> + + <p class="i2">When a favourite is started for an + airing.</p> + </div> + </div> + + <p>"That's an odd sort of song," said <i>Mr. Punch</i>.</p> + + <p>"Not so odd as the subject," replied the singer. "But you + have only heard the first verse; wait till you know the + second."</p> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>"'But they didn't tell the public; it's a precious, + jolly shame;'</p> + + <p class="i2">(Such behaviour to the public seems to + shock it)—</p> + + <p>Now if <i>you'd</i> been placed behind the scenes + you wouldn't think the same,</p> + + <p class="i2">But put principles and winnings in your + pocket.</p> + + <p>A gent who owns a stable doesn't always think of + <i>you</i>,</p> + + <p class="i2">And he doesn't seem to fancy + profit-sharing.</p> + + <p>And you really shouldn't curse him when he manages a + 'do.'</p> + + <p class="i2">With a favourite who's only on an + airing."</p> + </div> + </div> + + <p>Before the singer could proceed any farther, a frightful + hubbub arose. A pale, gasping wretch, rushed past, pursued by a + howling, cursing mob of ruffians. As he fled, he tripped, and + fell, and in a moment they were on the top of him, buffeting, + and beating the very life out of him.</p> + + <p>"That's murder," said <i>Mr. Punch</i>. "Where are the + police?"</p> + + <p>And he was on the point of stepping down, to render + assistance, when his friend laid a hand upon his arm.</p> + + <p>"Oh, that's only a welsher," he said; "he's bolting with + other people's money."</p> + + <p>"Is it the owner of the chestnut?" inquired Father TIME.</p> + + <p>"Bless your heart, no," was the reply. "It's only a + low-class cheat. The owner of the chestnut is—"</p> + + <p>But <i>Mr. Punch</i> had no wish to hear or see more.</p> + + <p>He took TIME's arm, and together they floated away into + space, to land shortly afterwards in another sphere.</p> + <hr /> + + <h2>VISIT TO POLLUX.</h2> + + <p>The street in which they had descended was situated in the + heart of a great city. The roar of traffic sounded in their + ears from the larger thoroughfares close by. Most of the houses + were small and mean—a remarkable contrast to one large + building, brilliantly lighted, in front of which a mob was + gathered together. A more ruffianly-looking assemblage it would + have been hard to discover. The rest of the street was filled + with hansoms, the long line of which was constantly being + augmented by fresh arrivals, whose occupants sprang out and + swiftly mounted a flight of steps leading up to the entrance of + the large building mentioned, and passed through swing-doors of + glass, which gave admission to a broad passage. In front of + this house the Sage paused, and addressed his companion.</p> + + <p>"Venerable One," he said, for he had become aware of a + reluctance on the part of the Lord of the Hour-Glass, "have no + fear. We are now, as you know, in the metropolis of Pollux. + This is the country of the πυξ + αγαθος, the home of the + noble boxer; and this," he added, pointing to the glittering + palace, "is the headquarters, I am informed, of the boxer's + art. Let us enter, so that I may show you how the game should + really be played. I like not the crowd without. Within we shall + see something very different."</p> + + <p>So saying, he linked his arm in that of the Paternal One, + and together they ascended the stairs. At the top stood an + official dressed in a dark uniform, his breast adorned with + medals.</p> + + <p>"I beg your pardon, Gentlemen," said the minion to the pair, + "are you Members?"</p> + + <p><i>Mr. Punch</i> vouchsafed no answer. He looked at the man, + who quailed under the eagle glance, and, muttering a hasty + apology, drew back. A door flew open; the Champion of Champions + and his friend passed through it. They found themselves in a + spacious hall. In the centre a square had been roped off. All + round were arranged seats and benches. In the square were four + men, two of them stripped to the waist sitting in chairs in + opposite corners, while the two others were busily engaged in + fanning them with towels. The seats and benches were all + occupied by a very motley throng.</p> + + <p>"Aha," said <i>Mr. Punch</i>, as he made his way to the + throne reserved for him, "this is good. I have done a little + bit of fighting myself in my time. My mill with the Tutbury Boy + is still remembered. One hundred and twenty rounds, at the end + of which I dropped him senseless. But that was with the + knuckles. Here they fight with gloves. But of course they fight + now for the mere honour of the thing, I presume."</p> + + <div class="figright" + style="width:50%;"> + <a href="images/13-2.png"><img width="100%" + src="images/13-2.png" + alt="A PAIR OF SPECTACLES." /></a>A PAIR OF + SPECTACLES. + </div> + + <p>But here the heroic Muse insists on taking up the + strain:—</p> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>The Father spake—"O skilled in men and + books,</p> + + <p>Read me this crowd, inspect them, scan their + looks;</p> + + <p>See, from their shining heads electric rays,</p> + + <p>Reflected, sparkle in their barbers' praise.</p> + + <p>Lo, on each bulging front's expansive white</p> + + <p>A single jewel flames with central light;</p> + + <p>To vacant eyes the haughty eye-glass clings,</p> + + <p>Stiff stand their collars, though their ties have + wings.</p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page14" + id="page14"></a>[pg 14]</span> + + <p>What of their faces? Bloodshot eyes that blink,</p> + + <p>And thick lips, framed for blasphemy and drink.</p> + + <p>Here the grey hair, that should adorn the Sage,</p> + + <p>Serves but to mark a weak, unhonoured age;</p> + + <p>There on the boy pale cheeks proclaim the truth,</p> + + <p>The faded emblems of a wasted youth.</p> + + <p>All, all are loathsome in this motley crew,</p> + + <p>The Peer, the Snob, the Gentile, and the Jew,</p> + + <p>Young men and old, the greybeards and the boys,</p> + + <p>These dull professors of debauch and noise."</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <hr class="short" /> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>He ceased. The Wise One gazed in silent gloom,</p> + + <p>While oaths and uproar hurtled through the + room—</p> + + <p>"Hi, there, a monkey on the Pollux Pet;"</p> + + <p>"Fifty to forty;" "Blank your eyes, no bet;"</p> + + <p>"A level thousand on the Castor Chick;"</p> + + <p>"Brandy for two, and, curse you, bring it + quick."</p> + + <p>While one who spake to <i>Punch</i> rapped out an + oath—</p> + + <p>"Who cares?" he said, "I stand to win on both.</p> + + <p>Fair play be blowed, that's all a pack of lies,</p> + + <p>Let fools fight fair, while <i>these</i> cut up the + prize.</p> + + <p>Old Cock, you needn't frown; I'm in the know,</p> + + <p>And if you don't like barneys, dash it, go!"</p> + + <p>One blow from <i>Punch</i> had quelled th' audacious + man,</p> + + <p>He raised his hand, when, lo, the fight began.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>"Time! time!" called one; the cornered ruffians + rose,</p> + + <p>Shook hands, squared up, then swift they rained in + blows.</p> + + <p>Feint follows feint, and whacks on whacks + succeed,</p> + + <p>Struck lips grow puffy, battered eye-brows + bleed.</p> + + <p>From simultaneous counters heads rebound,</p> + + <p>And ruby drops are scattered on the ground.</p> + + <p>Abraded foreheads flushing show the raw,</p> + + <p>And fistic showers clatter on the jaw.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <hr class="short" /> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Now on "the mark" impinge the massive hands,</p> + + <p>Now on the kissing-trap a crasher lands.</p> + + <p>Blood-dripping noses lose their sense of smell,</p> + + <p>And ribs are roasted that a crowd may yell.</p> + + <p>Each round the other's neck the champions cling,</p> + + <p>Then break away, and stagger round the ring.</p> + + <p>Now panting Pollux fails, his fists move slow,</p> + + <p>He trips, the Chicken plants a smashing blow.</p> + + <p>The native "pug" lies spent upon the floor,</p> + + <p>Lies for ten seconds,—and the fight is + o'er.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <hr class="short" /> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Thunders of cheering hail th' expected end,</p> + + <p>High in the air ecstatic hats ascend.</p> + + <p>While frenzied peers and joyous bookies drain</p> + + <p>Promiscuous bumpers of the Club champagne.</p> + </div> + </div> + + <p>But <i>Mr. Punch</i> had seen enough.</p> + + <div class="figcenter" + style="width:100%;"> + <a href="images/14.png"><img width="100%" + src="images/14.png" + alt="The boxing match." /></a> + </div> + + <p>"Do you call this one-round job a fight?" he said, as he + rose to depart. "I call it the work of curs and cowards. Who + can call these fellows fighting-men? They are merely + mop-sticks. Men were ruffianly enough years ago in the country + we have left, but they were men at any rate. Here, they seem to + be merely a pack of bloodthirsty molly-coddles, crossed with + calculating rogues. The mob outside was better than this. But, + thank Heaven, we have nothing like this in London."</p> + + <p>And with that he and Father TIME walked gloomily from the + hall, and found themselves once more in the street.</p> + <hr class="short" /> + + <p>"What ho! my trusty Shooting Star," cried <i>Mr. Punch</i>. + Whirr-r-r—</p> + + <p>And in the thousandth part of a second they found themselves + within measurable distance of TOBY's own Planet. And here + <i>the</i> Dog speaks for himself.</p> + <hr /> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page16" + id="page16"></a>[pg 16]</span> + + <div class="figcenter" + style="width:100%;"> + <a href="images/16.png"><img width="100%" + src="images/16.png" + alt="PUNCHIUS PHOEBUS, THE GREAT UNIVERSAL HYPNOTISER." /> + </a> + + <h3>PUNCHIUS PHOEBUS, THE GREAT UNIVERSAL + HYPNOTISER.</h3>("<i>He who must be Obeyed!</i>")<br /> + A TRANSFORMATION SCENE. + </div> + <hr /> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page19" + id="page19"></a>[pg 19]</span> + + <h2>VISIT TO THE DOG-STAR.</h2> + + <div class="figleft" + style="width:60%;"> + <a href="images/19-1.png"><img width="100%" + src="images/19-1.png" + alt="Visit to the Dog Star." /></a> + </div> + + <p>"Take care of the plank, Sir," I said, as my esteemed master + lightly skipped across the gangway, marshalling a well-grown + youth carrying a scythe; "we don't have many visitors here. One + who looked in the other day slipped his foot, fell over, and + we've never seen him since. Listening intently, watch in hand, + we heard a slight thud, and have reason to believe he dropped + on Jupiter. It was useful to us, seeing that, by use of a + well-known formula, we were able to reckon our precise distance + from that planet. For him, I fancy, it must have been + inconvenient."</p> + + <p>"Are you serious, TOBY?" said <i>Mr. Punch</i>, stepping + with added caution.</p> + + <p>"No, Sir, <i>I'm</i> not. This," I said, waving my hand with + graceful and comprehensive gesture around the orb where I am + temporarily located, "<i>this</i> is Sirius."</p> + + <p>"Ah, I see," said <i>Mr. P.</i>, glad to find himself with + his foot on our native heath; "I want to present you to an old + friend, whom, I am afraid, you have sometimes misused. TIME, + this is TOBY, M.P., a humble but faithful member of my + terrestrial suite. I am showing the young fellow round, TOBY, + and we looked in on you, hearing that you had a Parliament that + should serve as a model for the firmament."</p> + + <p>"I am afraid," observed TIME, whittling a piece of stick + with his scythe, "that we may have looked in at a wrong season. + As far as I can judge from a consideration of the temperature, + and a glance round your landscape, we are now at + Midsummer—in the dog days, if I may so put it without + offence. Of course your legislators would not be in Town just + now, sweltering at work that might as well be performed in + winter weather, when, regarded as a place of business or + residence, Town has attractions superior to those of the + country." "Ah, young fellow," I said, perhaps a little sharply, + not relishing his somewhat round-about way of putting things, + "when you are as old as me or my esteemed master, you will not + be so cock-sure of things. Our Parliamentary Session begins on + the threshold of Spring; we stop in Town hard at work, through + the pleasantest months of the year; we toil through Summer + nights, see August out, and, somewhere about the first week in + September, when the days are growing short, the air is chill, + and Autumn gets ready to usher in Winter, we go off to make + holiday."</p> + + <p>"Dear me, dear me!" cried <i>Mr. P.</i>, "how very sad. How + deliberately foolish. We manage things much better than that + down in our tight little Earth. When we take that in turn, you + will find, my good TIME, that we burrow at our legislative work + through the Winter months, getting it done so as to leave us + free to enjoy the country in the prime of Spring, and amid the + wealth of Summer. But come along, TOBY, let's get on to your + House."</p> + + <div class="figright" + style="width:40%;"> + <a href="images/19-2.png"><img width="100%" + src="images/19-2.png" + alt="Father Time makes a clean sweep of the police-dogs." /> + </a> + </div> + + <p>"It will be no use going now," said TIME, holding up his + hour-glass; "it is five o'clock; the working day is practically + over, and we shall find these sensible dogs travelling off to + take a turn in the park, or pay a round of visits in search of + the culinary receptacle that cheers, but does not + intoxicate."</p> + + <p>"Wrong again, young Cock-sure," I said; "we shall just find + our house of Commons settling down to the business of the + night. We begin about four o'clock in the afternoon, and peg + away till any hour to-morrow morning that one or two Members + please. It is true we have a rule which enjoins the suspension + of business at midnight; but instead of suspending business we + can (and do) suspend the Rule, and sometimes sit all + night."</p> + + <p>"Ah!" said <i>Mr. Punch</i>, gravely shaking his head, "we + manage things much better than that at Westminster."</p> + + <p>Got my two friends with some difficulty across Palace Yard, + eyed suspiciously by the police-dogs on duty. One concentrated + his attention on <i>Mr. Punch's</i> dorsal peculiarity.</p> + + <p>"We have strict orders from the Sergeant-at-Arms," he said, + "to examine all parcels carried by strangers."</p> + + <p>"That's not a parcel," I said, hurriedly, and taking him on + one side, succinctly explained the personal peculiarity of my + esteemed Master. "Humph!" said the police-dog. "Exactly," I + responded, and he let us pass on, though evidently with + lingering apprehension that he was allowing a valuable clue to + slip out of his hands, as it were.</p> + + <p>"Wait here a moment," I said, "till I get an order for your + admission."</p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page20" + id="page20"></a>[pg 20]</span> + + <div class="figleft" + style="width:50%;"> + <a href="images/20-1.png"><img width="100%" + src="images/20-1.png" + alt="Mr. Punch is expelled from the gallery." /></a> + </div> + + <p>Absent only a few minutes; when I got back terrible + commotion; <i>Mr. P.'s</i> friend was in the hands of the + Police; they had attempted to take his scythe from him, and he + had smartly rapped one on the head with his hour-glass.</p> + + <p>"I've carried it a million years," he said, swinging the + scythe with practised hand, till he made a clean sweep of the + police-dogs.</p> + + <p>"Make it a couple of millions, whilst you are at it, young + man," said a sarcastic police-dog.</p> + + <p>With some difficulty calmed him; explained that no one, not + even a Member, was permitted to enter House with a scythe, or + other lethal weapon. Only exception made once a year, when Hon. + Members, moving and seconding Address, are allowed to carry + property-swords, which generally get between their legs. TIME + partially mollified at last, consented to leave scythe behind + chair of door-keeper, where the late TOM COLLINS used to + secrete his gingham-umbrella.</p> + + <p>"It seems to me," he said, "that the public are treated in + this place worse than jackals. Hustled from pillar to post, + suspected of unnamed crimes, grudged every convenience, and + generally regarded as intolerable intruders."</p> + + <p>"Ah," said <i>Mr. P.</i>, "we manage things much better at + Westminster."</p> + + <p>"Order! Order!" cried an angry voice, and <i>Mr. P.</i> and + his companion were within an ace of being trundled out of the + gallery, where strangers are permitted to see and hear whatever + is possible from their position—and it is not much.</p> + + <p>"What are they talking about?" asked TIME, in guarded + whisper, being, by this time, completely cowed.</p> + + <p>"They haven't reached public business yet," I explained. + "Been for last two hours debating a private Bill, providing + that the pump-handle in the village of Plumberry shall be + chained at eight o'clock at night. The Opposition want it done + at nine."</p> + + <p>"Well, I suppose they know all about it," said TIME. + "Probably been down to Plumberry, examined into bearing of + whole question, and formed their opinion accordingly?"</p> + + <p>"Nothing of the sort; some of them don't even know where + Plumberry is—never heard its name before this Pump-handle + business came up. Don't even now wait in House to hear + question, debated by Members with local knowledge. You see only + twenty or thirty Members in their places. But, when bell rings + for division, four hundred will troop in, and their vote will + settle the question whether Plumberry shall be privileged to + pump water as late as nine o'clock, or whether at eight the + handle shall be chained."</p> + + <p>So it turned out: In House of four hundred and seventy-nine + Members Bill was read a second time by majority of + twenty-three. Division occupied twenty minutes, which, with + debate, appropriated two of the most precious hours of the + sitting.</p> + + <p><i>Mr. P.</i> narrowly escaped expulsion, attention being + awkwardly concentrated upon him, owing to the exuberance of his + delight in recollection of how much better these things are + managed at Westminster.</p> + + <p>After this, public business was approached, beginning with + questions. Of these there were a list of eighty, the large + majority on exceedingly trivial circumstances. Nine-tenths of + them could have been answered in a sentence by the Minister + addressed, supposing the Member had dropped him a private note, + or crossed the floor of the House, to speak to him. TIME openly + contemptuous at such a way of doing business, more especially + when, on question which appeared on printed paper having been + answered, half-a-dozen Members sprang up from different parts + of House, and volleyed forth supplementary interrogations. + Explained to him things used to be worse when questions were + propounded <i>viví voce</i>, and at length.</p> + + <p>"Now," I said, not liking <i>Mr. P.'s</i> crowing over us, + "the SPEAKER will not allow the terms of a question to be + recited. They appear on printed paper, and are taken as + read."</p> + + <p>"Then," queried TIME, "what are these Members putting + questions 'arising,' they say, 'out of the answer just given? + They don't spare a syllable, and take up five times as much of + the Sitting as Members who put their questions on the Paper, + and are not allowed to read them. You don't mean to say that + such a transparent evasion of the rule is permitted?"</p> + + <p>"It looks very like it," said <i>Mr. P.</i>; "but it's not + at all the sort of thing that would be permitted in our House + of Commons. We make Rules, and the Speaker sees that they are + obeyed in the spirit, as well as in the letter."</p> + + <p>By the time questions were over, following on the prelude of + private business, the evening was getting on. Members evidently + tired out; had crowded in to vote on the Pump-handle question; + sat in serried rows during the squabbles of question-time; and + as soon as business was actually reached, House swiftly + emptied, leaving about a score of Members. TIME more than ever + distracted. <i>Mr. P.</i> increasingly perky.</p> + + <p>"Ho! ho!" he said, rubbing his hands, "I don't wonder at + this Star going to the Dogs. Stop till you come over to + Westminster, TIME, dear boy, and we'll show you how public + business should be carried on."</p> + + <div class="figright" + style="width:53%;"> + <a href="images/20-2.png"><img width="100%" + src="images/20-2.png" + alt="" /></a> + </div> + + <p>Explain to them that House is now in Committee on a Bill + that had at earlier stages occupied some months of the Session, + practically the greater portion of its working time. Now + Session drawing to a close; agreed on both sides that it is too + late to conclude Bill this Session; will be dropped after + another night or two; Members knowing this, do not think it + worth while to give up more time to Bill. Next Session it will + be brought in again, and if the Government have better luck, + and get earlier stages through in less time, there will be a + chance of it passing.</p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page21" + id="page21"></a>[pg 21]</span> + + <p>"What!" shrieked TIME, forgetting where he was, "you don't + mean to say that after devoting nearly a whole Session to a + measure, laboriously shaping it up to a certain stage, you + chuck away all your work because the Almanack says it's August? + Why don't you, when you meet again in February, take the Bill + up at the stage you dropped it? Why don't you—"</p> + + <p>Here our friend's observations were brought to a sudden + close. TIME was, as <i>Mr. P.</i> subsequently remarked, + reduced to the status of a half-Timer. Angry cries of "Order! + Order!" broke in on his unpremeditated speech. Two attendants, + approaching him on either flank, seized him, and led him forth + under the personal direction of the Sergeant-at-Arms. <i>Mr. + P.</i>, following his friend, and endeavouring from the top of + the staircase to assure him that, "we manage these things + better at Westminster," was promptly taken into custody, and + led forth beyond the precincts, a combination of circumstances + that interrupted and, indeed, as far as my friends were + concerned, finally closed what was beginning to promise to + prove an agreeable and instructive evening.</p> + + <p><i>Business Done</i>.—<i>Mr. Punch</i> and another + Stranger expelled from the Gallery, and TOBY's narrative + completed.</p> + <hr /> + + <h2>VISIT TO VENUS.</h2> + + <div class="figright" + style="width:40%;"> + <a href="images/21.png"><img width="100%" + src="images/21.png" + alt="Visit to Venus." /></a> + </div> + + <p>The two Travellers made their way through space in silence, + but on a sudden Father TIME plucked his conductor by the + sleeve, and spoke.</p> + + <p>"Sir," he said, "I perceive in the distance a wonderful + light, and there is a sound of soft and beautiful music that + attracts me strangely. Shall we approach the light, and listen + more closely to these strains?"</p> + + <p>"Have patience." replied the Sage. "The light and the music + come from the planet Venus. Thither I am directing our course. + In a few moments we shall arrive."</p> + + <p>Even as he spoke the light grew brighter, the music of the + invisible choir swelled to a louder strain, and before the King + of the Hours had time to express his rapture, the pair had + alighted in a scene of veritable enchantment. Fairy-like + structures of crystal, sparkling with all the hues of the + rainbow, rose on every side. Spires and domes of the most + fantastic but graceful design seemed to soar into the clear and + perfect air. All were bathed in a rosy glow, the source of + which was hidden. Spacious walks paved with huge blocks of opal + divided the rows of palaces. Along them grew tall and slender + trees of a curious and delicate foliage. Birds of Paradise, + King Fishers and doves flitted from branch to branch. The + broadest of these avenues ended in a sweeping flight of steps + of alabaster which led to a vast and perfectly proportioned + hall, the roof of which was supported on columns of pure + jewels, diamonds, rubies, sapphires and emeralds.</p> + + <p>A throng of maidens, in classical attire and wearing wreaths + of roses on their heads, made their way along this avenue to + where <i>Mr. Punch</i> and his companion were standing. Their + leader, a fair and lovely girl of seventeen, advanced to the + Wise One and addressed him.</p> + + <p>"Sire," she sang in a low and gracious voice, "Our Queen has + sent me to say that she waits for your coming. She holds her + Court in yonder hall, and thither I am bidden to guide you. Is + it your pleasure to come at once?"</p> + + <p><i>Mr. Punch</i> signified his assent, the maiden took him + by the hand, and beckoning to Father TIME to follow, they + walked slowly towards the Royal Hall and mounted the steps. A + double gate of wrought gold opened as they reached the top, and + passing through it, they found themselves in the Court of Queen + CALLISTA. A marvellous sight met their eyes. The Queen sat on a + raised throne in the midst of a throng of attendants. She was + of surpassing beauty. Her deep-blue eyes were set like jewels + beneath a broad low forehead on which a light crown of pearls + and diamonds rested. Her garments were of a soft gauzy material + that half concealed and half revealed the beautiful lines of + her bust and limbs. In one hand she held a spray of myrtle, the + other rested lovingly on the head of the magnificent hound who + sat beside her, looking trustfully into her face. The great + hall was filled with beautiful women grouped together here and + there, some seated and some standing. They were all talking. + Suddenly the Queen raised her hand and commanded silence. She + then rose and thus addressed the two visitors:—</p> + + <p>"You have come from below to the Realm of Women. Here we + abide as you behold us. Age and decay hold aloof from us, and + we order our lives with wisdom and modesty. Speak, if you have + aught to ask."</p> + + <p>"Pardon me, Madam," said Father TIME, somewhat rashly, "are + we not here on the planet Venus? and have I not somewhere heard + strange tales of what was done by ——?"</p> + + <p>But CALLISTA interrupted him. She smiled a beautiful + smile.</p> + + <p>"Ah, yes," she said, "those stories are of the vanished + past. Now we blush even to think they might once have been + true;" and surely enough the whole charming assemblage became + suffused with the prettiest imaginable blush. "I will speak + plainly with you," continued the Queen; "for plain speech is + best. No men live here. Therefore, we dwell in peace. But we + permit the fairest and best among our number to descend from + time to time to earth, and to dwell there in mortal shapes for + awhile. You may have seen them," she went on, mentioning some + names well known to <i>Mr. Punch</i>. "They are allowed to + marry; but only the wisest and noblest men may approach them. + On earth their will is free, and sometimes, alas, they fall + away from righteousness, and pass through bitter + tribulation."</p> + + <p>"Yes," said the Fleet Street Sage, "We call it the Divorce + Court—your Majesty will pardon the rough speech of an old + man—and, somehow, we don't seem able to get on without + it. But here, of course, you have no such institution?"</p> + + <p>"No," replied the Queen. "There once was such a court among + us, hundreds of years ago, ere we had banished the men from our + midst. Now, however, we use the building in which petitions + used to be heard as our chief College. Come hither, ZOE," she + proceeded, addressing a sweet little girl of about fifteen. + "Tell this wise gentleman your solution of that pretty question + relating to the concomitants of a system of ternary + quadrics."</p> + + <p>Without a moment's hesitation, ZOE stated the question, and, + what is more, solved it with absolute correctness.</p> + + <p>"Marvellous!" said <i>Mr. Punch</i>. "I congratulate + you."</p> + + <p>"CYNTHIA," said the Queen, beckoning with her rosy fingers + to another maiden, "will you recite to me your Pindaric Ode on + the late foot-race?"</p> + + <p>CYNTHIA at once complied, and <i>Mr. Punch</i> listened in + amazement to the resounding lines of an ode worthy of the great + Greek. <span class="pagenum"><a name="page22" + id="page22"></a>[pg 22]</span> "Nor do we confine ourselves + to such accomplishments," the Queen went on. "We all sew + perfectly, our knitting is universally admired, and our + classes on the Management of Domestic Servants, or the true + theory of Making Both Ends Meet are always largely attended. + Moreover, we do not neglect the body. Some play at ball, + some even form elevens for cricket, others fence or play + your Scotch game, or even lawn-tennis, and all dance + gracefully. See!" she cried, clapping her hands, "they shall + show you."</p> + + <div class="figcenter" + style="width:100%;"> + <a href="images/22.png"><img width="100%" + src="images/22.png" + alt="The Court of Queen Callista." /></a> + </div> + + <p>At this signal delicious music burst forth in a strange + measure, swaying, rhythmical, and delightful. The maidens + enlaced one another, and moved across the floor in perfect + time. Their bodies seemed to float rather than tread the + ground, as they passed the spell-bound visitors. The dance + ceased as suddenly as it began.</p> + + <p>"Your Majesty" said <i>Mr. Punch</i>, "your country is, + indeed, highly blessed, and your subjects are marvellously + accomplished. You dwell here without men, without chaperons, + and you are lovely," he added, with emotion, "beyond the power + of words to express. Would that your example could be followed + upon earth!"</p> + + <p>And with this, he and the Father kissed the young Queen's + hand, and left the royal presence chamber.</p> + <hr /> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page23" + id="page23"></a>[pg 23]</span> + + <h2>VISIT TO SERIOCOMIX.</h2> + + <p>"And so," said TIME, as he carefully arranged his forelock + before a mirror in the corridor, in reply to a communication + recently made to him by <i>Mr. Punch en route</i>, "and so + we're to make a regular rollicking night of it'? You insist on + taking me into every Music Hall in Seriocomix, hey, you young + dog, you! Well, well, Sir, I'm not so young as I used to + be—but I'm as fond of a bit of good honest wholesome fun + as ever I was. So lead on!"</p> + + <div class="figleft" + style="width:35%;"> + <a href="images/23-1.png"><img width="100%" + src="images/23-1.png" + alt="The music hall of Seriocomix." /></a> + </div> + + <p>They were in Seriocomix—a new and brilliant planet + recently discovered by <i>Mr. Punch</i>—by the aid of + WELLER's patent double-million gas-magnifying microscope (extra + power). This star, as all astronomers are by this time aware, + is a howling waste of extraordinary density, and occupied + entirely by Music Halls, which TIME, for some inexplicable + reason, was desirous of visiting in <i>Mr. Punch's</i> + company.</p> + + <p><i>Mr. Punch</i>, though considerably TIME's junior, almost + envied his companion's boyish eagerness for pleasure; he was so + evidently unfamiliar with Music Halls.</p> + + <p>"If you are expecting to be vastly amused, Sir," <i>Mr. + Punch</i> ventured to hint, "I am afraid you may be just a + trifle disappointed."</p> + + <p>"Disappointed?" said TIME; "not a bit of it, Sir; not a bit + of it! Isn't a Music Hall a place of entertainment? You've + plenty of them where <i>you</i> come from, haven't you? They + wouldn't be filled night after night, as I'm given to + understand they are, if they didn't succeed in entertaining, + <i>would</i> they, now?"</p> + + <p><i>Mr. Punch</i> felt a natural reluctance to betray the + weak points of any terrestrial institution.</p> + + <p>"Oh, <i>our</i> Music Halls? they are perfection, of + course," he said. "The entertainments there are distinguished + by humour of the most refined and intellectual order. It only + struck me that they mayn't be quite the same <i>here</i>, you + know, that's all."</p> + + <p>"We shall see, Sir, we shall see," said TIME. "I don't think + I'm particularly difficult to amuse." By this time they had + entered the dazzling hall, and, reclining on sumptuous seats, + were prepared to bestow their best attention upon the + proceedings. A stout man with a fair wig, a dyed moustache and + a blue chin, occupied the stage. He was engaged in representing + a Member of the Seriocomican aristocracy with irresistible + powers of social fascination, and he wore a loose-caped cloak + over garments of closely-fitting black, which opened in front + to display a mass of crumpled white, amidst which scintillated + an enormous jewel. In his hand he held a curious black disc, + with which he beat time to a ditty, of which <i>Mr. Punch</i> + only succeeded in catching the following refrain:—</p> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>"Oh, I 'ave sech a w'y with the loydies! All the + dorlins upon me are gorn!</p> + + <p>For they soy—'Yn't he noice! you can tell by + his vice,</p> + + <p>He's a toff and a gentleman born!'"</p> + </div> + </div> + + <p>And here the singer suddenly caused the black disc to expand + with a faint report to a cylindrical form of head-dress, which + he placed upon one side of his head, amidst thunders of + approval.</p> + + <p>But TIME seemed rather depressed than exhilarated by this + performance.</p> + + <p>"He ought to be kicked off the stage," he muttered. "I'd do + it myself if I was younger!"</p> + + <p>"You would make a mistake," said <i>Mr. Punch</i>; "he is + just the person that a Music Hall audience idolises as their + highest ideal of a man and gentleman—in Seriocomix."</p> + + <p>"At least," said TIME, "you wouldn't stand such an + outrageous cad as that in any of <i>your</i> Music Halls, I + hope?"</p> + + <p>A deeper tinge stole into <i>Mr. Punch's</i> already + highly-coloured countenance. "Certainly not," he replied, with + perhaps the slightest suspicion of a gulp. "Our 'Lion Comiques' + are without exception, persons of culture and education, and, + if they sing of love at all, it is only to treat the subject in + a chaste and chivalrous spirit. They are worthy examples to all + young people who are privileged to listen to their + teachings."</p> + + <p>"I wish you could send one or two out to Seriocomix, then, + as missionaries," said TIME.</p> + + <p>"I wish we could send them <i>all</i>," rejoined <i>Mr. + Punch</i>, feelingly, and they went on to another Music Hall. + Here TIME had no sooner perceived the artist who was upon the + stage than he exclaimed indignantly, "Disgraceful, Sir. This + man is in no condition to entertain a respectable + audience—he is <i>intoxicated</i>, Sir—look at his + <i>tie</i>!"</p> + + <p>"I think not," said <i>Mr. Punch</i>, after observing him + attentively through his opera-glass; "he merely affects to be + so because the point and humour of the song depend on it. But + he has evidently forced himself to make a close study of the + symptoms, or he could hardly have produced so marvellous an + imitation. Art does demand these sacrifices. You will observe + that he represents another Music-Hall ideal—the hero who + can absorb the largest known quantity of ardent spirits, and + whose prowess has earned for him the proud title of the Boozer + King."</p> + + <div class="figright" + style="width:35%;"> + <a href="images/23-2.png"><img width="100%" + src="images/23-2.png" + alt="A remarkably pretty young girl tripped daintily on to the platform." /> + </a> + </div> + + <p>It was a spirited chorus, and the accomplished vocalist + reeled in quite a natural manner as he chanted:—</p> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>"So every pub I enter, boys,</p> + + <p>With welcome the room will ring;</p> + + <p>Make room for him, there, in the centre, boys!</p> + + <p>For he is the Boozer King!</p> + + <p>Yes, give him a seat in the centre, boys.</p> + + <p>Three cheers for our Boozer King!"</p> + </div> + </div> + + <p>But TIME's worn features exhibited nothing but the strongest + disgust.</p> + + <p>"Is it possible," he exclaimed, "that this sort of thing can + be considered amusing anywhere!"</p> + + <p>"It is considered extremely facetious," said <i>Mr. + Punch</i>—"in Seriocomix."</p> + + <p>"What would they think of such a—such an apotheosis of + degradation in one of your Music Halls at home, eh?" demanded + TIME.</p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page24" + id="page24"></a>[pg 24]</span> + + <p>Privately, <i>Mr. Punch</i> was of opinion that it would not + be at all unpopular. However, he was not going to admit + this:—</p> + + <p>"It would be hissed off the stage," he said, courageously. + "The fact is, that our Eccentric Vocalists have always shrunk + from the responsibility of presenting a national vice under an + attractive light, and so such exhibitions are absolutely + unknown among us."</p> + + <p>"I respect them for their scruples," said TIME; "they have + their reward in a clear conscience," "No doubt," said <i>Mr. + Punch</i>. "Shall we go on?" And as TIME had had enough of the + Boozer King, they went on, and entered the next hall, just as a + remarkably pretty young girl, with an innocent rosebud mouth + and saucy bright eyes like a bird's, tripped daintily on to the + platform.</p> + + <p>"Come," said TIME, with more approval than he had yet shown, + "this is better—<i>much</i> better. We need feel no shame + is listening to <i>this</i> young lady, at all events. What is + she going to give us? Some tender little love-ditty, I'll be + bound?"</p> + + <p>She sang of love, certainly, though she treated the subject + from rather an advanced point of view, and this was the song + she sang:—</p> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>"True love—you tyke the tip from me—'s + all blooming tommy-rot!</p> + + <p>And the only test we go by is—'ow much a man + has got?</p> + + <p>So none of you need now despair a girlish 'art to + mash,—</p> + + <p>So long as you're provided with the necessairy + cash!"</p> + </div> + </div> + + <p>And the chorus was:—</p> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>"You may be an 'owling cad;</p> + + <p>Or be gowing to the bad;</p> + + <p>Or a hoary centenarian, or empty-headed lad;</p> + + <p>Or the merest trifle mad—</p> + + <p>If there's rhino to be had,</p> + + <p>Why, a modern girl will tyke you—yes, and only + be too glad!"</p> + </div> + </div> + + <p>As she carolled out this charming ditty in her thin high + voice, TIME positively shivered in his stall, "Are <i>all</i> + the girls like that in Seriocomix?" he moaned. "I trust + not."</p> + + <p>"It seems the fashion to assume so here, at any rate," said + <i>Mr. Punch</i>, not without a hazy recollection of having + heard very similar sentiments in Music Halls much nearer home + than Seriocomix. "The young woman is probably an authority on + the subject. Are you off already?"</p> + + <p>"Yes," said TIME, as he made for the exit. "I think she is + going to sing again presently. Come along!"</p> + + <p>At the next Music Hall they were just in time to hear the + announcement of a new Patriotic Song, and old TIME, who had in + his day seen great and noble deeds accomplished by men who + loved and were proud of their Fatherland, was disposed to + congratulate both himself and the audience on the choice of + topic.</p> + + <p>Only, as the song went on, he seemed dissatisfied somehow, + as if he had expected some loftier and more exalted strain. And + yet it was a high-spirited song, too, and told the + Seriocomicans what fine fellows they were, and how naturally + superior to the inhabitants of all other planets, while the + chorus ran as follows:—</p> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>"Yes, we never stand a foreigner's dictation!</p> + + <p class="i2">No matter if we're wrong or if we're + right;</p> + + <p>We're a breed of good old bulldogs as a nation,</p> + + <p class="i2">And we never stop to bark before we + bite!"</p> + </div> + </div> + + <p>And then the singer, a fat-necked man, in a kind of military + uniform, drew a sword and struck an attitude, amidst red fire, + which aroused vociferous enthusiasm.</p> + + <p>TIME seemed to be getting restless again, so they moved on + once. more, and presently entered a hall where they found a + stout lady with a powdered face and extremely short skirts, + about to sing a pathetic song, which had been expressly written + to suit her talents.</p> + + <p>She began in a quavering treble that was instinct with + intense feeling:—</p> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>"Under the dysies to rest I have lyed him;</p> + + <p>My little cock-sparrer so fythful and tyme!</p> + + <p>And the duckweed he loved so is blooming besoide + him,</p> + + <p>But I clean out his cyge every d'y just the + syme!</p> + + <p>For it brings him before me so sorcy and + sproightly,</p> + + <p>As with seed and fresh water his glorsis I fill:</p> + + <p>Though the poor little tyle which he waggled so + lytely</p> + + <p>Loys under the dysies all stiffened and still!"</p> + </div> + </div> + + <p>—And then, to a subdued <i>obbligato</i> upon a + bird-whistle, came the touching refrain:</p> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>"Yes, I hear him singing 'Tweet,' so melodious and + sweet!</p> + + <p>Till his shadder comes and flits about the room. + 'Tweet-tweet-tweet!'</p> + + <p>All my sorrer I forget. For I have the forncy + yet,</p> + + <p>That he twitters while he's loyin' in his + tomb—'Tweet-tweet!'</p> + + <p>Yes, he twitters to me softly from his tomb!"</p> + </div> + </div> + + <p><i>Mr. Punch</i> observed his elder attentively during this + plaintive ditty, but there was no discernible moisture in + TIME's hard old eyes, though among the rest of the audience + noses were being freely blown.</p> + + <div class="figright" + style="width:28%;"> + <a href="images/24.png"><img width="100%" + src="images/24.png" + alt="Mastodon Mirth-moving Mome." /></a> + </div> + + <p>"Well," he said, "it may be very touching and even + elevating, for anything I know—but it's not my notion of + cheerful entertainment. I'm off!"</p> + + <p>"I should like," said TIME, rather wistfully, as they + proceeded to visit yet another establishment, "yes, I + <i>should</i> like to hear something <i>comic</i> before the + evening is over."</p> + + <p>"Now is your opportunity, then," said <i>Mr. Punch</i>, + taking his seat and inspecting the programme, "for I observe + that the gentleman who is to appear next is described as a + 'Mastodon Mirth-moving Mome.'"</p> + + <p>"And does that mean that he is funny?" inquired TIME, + hopefully.</p> + + <p>"If it doesn't, I don't know what it <i>does</i> mean," + replied <i>Mr. Punch</i>, as the Mastodon entered.</p> + + <p>His mere appearance was calculated to provoke—and did + provoke—roars of laughter, though TIME only gazed the + more sadly at him. He had coarse black hair falling about his + ears, a white face, and a crimson nose; he wore a suit of dingy + plaid, a battered hat, and long-fingered thread gloves. And he + sang, very slowly and dolefully, this side-splitting + ballad:—</p> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>"We met at the corner, Marire and me.</p> + + <p class="i2">Quite permiscuous! Who'd ha' thought of + it?</p> + + <p>She took and invited me 'ome to tea;</p> + + <p class="i2">Quite permiscuous! Who'd ha' thought of + it?</p> + + <p>I sat in the parler along with her,</p> + + <p>Tucking into the eggs and the bread and + but-tèr,—</p> + + <p>When in come her Par with the kitching po-kèr!</p> + + <p class="i2"><i>Quite</i> permiscuous! <i>Who'd</i> + ha' thought of it?"</p> + </div> + </div> + + <p>There was a chorus, of course:—</p> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>"Quite permiscuous! Who'd ha' thought of it?</p> + + <p class="i2">Who can guess what's going to be!</p> + + <p>Whatever you fancy'll fall far short of it.</p> + + <p class="i2">That's the way things 'appen with + me!"</p> + </div> + </div><span class="pagenum"><a name="page25" + id="page25"></a>[pg 25]</span> + + <p>It seemed that this was the first occasion on which the + audience had had the privilege of hearing this chaste and + simple production, and nothing could exceed their frantic + delight—the song was rapturously re-demanded again and + again. Tears stood in TIME's eyes, but they were not the tears + of excessive mirth; it was almost incredible—but the + "Mastodon Mome" had only succeeded in rendering his depression + more acute.</p> + + <p>"A melancholy performance that," he said, shaking his head, + "a sorry piece of vulgar buffoonery, Sir!"</p> + + <p>"Aren't you rather severe, Sir?" remonstrated <i>Mr. + Punch</i>; "the song is an immense hit—it has, as they + say on this planet, 'knocked them;' from henceforth that + vocalist's fortune is made; he will receive the income of a + Cabinet Minister, and his fame will spread from planet to + planet. Why, to-morrow, Sir, that commonplace phrase, '<i>Quite + permiscuous! Who'd ha' thought of it</i>?' will be upon the + lips of every inhabitant; it will receive brevet-rank as a + witticism of the first order, it will enrich the language, and + enjoy an immortality, which will endure—ah, till the + introduction of a newer catchword! I assure you the most + successful book—the wittiest comedy, the divinest poem, + have never won for their authors the immediate and sensational + reputation which this singer has obtained at a bound with a few + doggerel verses and an ungrammatical refrain. Isn't there + genius in <i>that</i>, Sir?"</p> + + <div class="figcenter" + style="width:90%;"> + <a href="images/25.png"><img width="100%" + src="images/25.png" + alt="" /></a> + </div> + + <p>"Ah!" said TIME, "I'm old-fashioned, I daresay. I'm no + longer in the movement. I might have been amused once by the + story of a clandestine tea-party and an outraged parent with a + poker; I don't know. All I <i>do</i> know is, that I find it + rather dreary at present. We'll drop in at just one or two more + places, Sir, and then go quietly home to bed, eh?" They entered + a few more Music Halls, and found the entertainment at each + pretty much alike; now and then, instead of songs about + mothers-in-law, domestic disagreements, and current scandals, + they were entertained by the spectacle of acrobats going + through horrible contortions, or women and little children + performing feats high up aloft to the imminent peril of life + and limb.</p> + + <p>"With <i>us</i>," said <i>Mr. Punch</i>, complacently, + "there is a net stretched below the performers."</p> + + <p>"An excellent arrangement," said TIME; "and I suppose, if + they <i>did</i> happen to fall—"</p> + + <p>"The spectators underneath would be to some extent + protected," said <i>Mr. Punch</i>.</p> + + <p>Then there were ballets, so glittering and gorgeous and + interminable, that poor old TIME dropped asleep more than once, + in spite of the din of the orchestra. At last, although several + other places remained to be visited, he broke down altogether. + "To tell you the truth," he said, "I've had about enough of it. + At my age, Sir, the pursuit of this sort of amusement is rather + hard work. I'll do no more Music Halls on this planet. But I + tell you what I <i>will</i> do. After all this I want a little + rational amusement. I want to be cheered up. Now when will you + take me round <i>your</i> Music Halls, eh? Any evening will + suit me—shall we say Boxing Night?"</p> + + <p>"<i>Not if I know it!</i>" was <i>Mr. Punch's</i> internal + reflection—but all he said was, "'Boxing Night?' let me + see, I'm going <i>somewhere</i> on Boxing Night, I know. Well, + I'll look up my engagements when I get home, and drop you a + line."</p> + + <p>"Do," said TIME—"mind you don't forget. I am sure we + shall have capital fun."</p> + + <p>"Oh, capital," replied <i>Mr. Punch</i>, + hurriedly—"capital—but now for (excuse the paradox) + the Land of the Sea."</p> + + <p>And so again they started. But <i>Mr. Punch's</i> + presentiment will turn out to be quite correct. He <i>will</i> + be unfortunately engaged on Boxing Night, and so his tour of + the terrestrial Music Halls with TIME will be postponed <i>sine + die</i>.</p> + <hr /> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page26" + id="page26"></a>[pg 26]</span> + + <h2>VISIT TO NEPTUNE.</h2> + + <div class="figright" + style="width:70%;"> + <a href="images/26-1.png"><img width="100%" + src="images/26-1.png" + alt="Badgering the engineers on Neptune." /></a> + </div> + + <p>In a very short time the two august travellers found + themselves in Neptune. To their surprise they learned that the + planet consisted entirely of land. They were met by one of the + inhabitants in full naval uniform, who heartily greeted them, + promising to show them everything his country contained.</p> + + <p>"The only thing that must for the present be unexhibited is + the sea," he concluded. "Truth to speak, we have lost sight of + it, and the disappearance has caused considerable + inconvenience."</p> + + <p><i>Mr. Punch</i> condoled with the son of Neptune, and asked + what were the chief amusements in the planet.</p> + + <p>"Well, badgering the Engineers is considered excellent + sport—especially just now when their services are not + absolutely required. We snub them and underpay them, we refuse + them the rank due to them, and lead them a generally happy + life! Nothing of that sort of thing down below, I suppose?"</p> + + <p><i>Mr. Punch</i> at the moment this question was put was + probably thinking of something else—at any rate he gave + no answer.</p> + + <div class="figleft" + style="width:35%;"> + <a href="images/26-2.png"><img width="100%" + src="images/26-2.png" + alt="" /></a> + </div> + + <p>"But this is about the best thing we have here," continued + the Resident, pointing to a scene recalling the traditional + pictures of Greenwich Fair, "the Royal Naval Exhibition. You + see we have pictures and models and fireworks. Everything + connected with the Navy inclusive of ladies' foot-ball."</p> + + <p>"Ladies' foot-ball," echoed <i>Mr. Punch</i>, "why what has + that to do with matters nautical?"</p> + + <p>"Pardon me, <i>Mr. Punch</i>," returned the Resident in a + tone of impatience, "but to-day you are certainly dense. + Ladies' foot-ball is entirely nautical. Are not the ladies, as + they play it, quite at sea?"</p> + + <p>The Sage of Fleet Street bowed, and admitted that second + thoughts were best.</p> + + <p>"And now you must really excuse me," continued the Resident, + "for it is my duty, as a director of the Royal Naval Exhibition + to start the donkey races. I suppose you have had nothing like + our Exhibition down below?"</p> + + <p>"Nothing," returned the Sage.</p> + + <div class="figright" + style="width:50%;"> + <a href="images/26-3.png"><img width="100%" + src="images/26-3.png" + alt="" /></a> + </div> + + <p>"So I thought," was the reply. "If you have time, you can + call upon the Admiral Survival of the Fittest."</p> + + <p>"Gentlemen," said that illustrious official, after they had + entered his bureau, "it is usual to salute me by tugging at + your forelocks and scraping the deck with your right feet. + While you perform this operation, you will notice that I will + hitch up my trousers in true nautical style."</p> + + <p>"Oh, certainly," returned <i>Mr. Punch</i>, "Delighted! But, + Admiral, isn't that sort of thing a little old-fashioned?"</p> + + <p>"And what of that, Sir? In spite of everything <i>we</i> + still have hearts of oak. We have <i>not</i> changed since the + time of NELSON and Trafalgar. We can still run up the rigging + (there isn't any but that is an unimportant detail) like + kittens, and reef a sail (there's not one left, but what does + <i>that</i> matter?) in a Nor-Wester as our ancestors did + before us. And if you don't believe me, go to any public dinner + when response is being made for the Navy."</p> + + <p>"But if the ships have changed, would it not be better if + the crews had undergone an appropriate transformation?"</p> + + <p>"We don't think so. But, there, it's no use palavering. Some + day the matter will be put to the test?"</p> + + <p>"By a war?"</p> + + <p>"No; by the Fleet starting for a cruise in calm weather. + Some say we should all go to the bottom. But I am talking of + the Planet Neptune. On your little Earth, I suppose, things are + <i>very</i> different?"</p> + + <p>"Very," replied <i>Mr. Punch</i>. "<i>We</i> have the + Admiralty!"</p> + + <p>And considering this an appropriate moment for departure, + the Sage and his Venerable Companion floated amongst the + stars.</p> + <hr /> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page27" + id="page27"></a>[pg 27]</span> + + <h2>AMONG THE DRAMATIC AND OPERATIC STARS.</h2> + + <div class="figure" + style="width:100%;"> + <a href="images/27-1.png"><img width="30%" + src="images/27-1.png" + alt="AIRY FAIRY LILIAN." /></a> + <a href="images/27-2.png"><img width="30%" + src="images/27-2.png" + alt="KING ARTHUR." /></a> + <a href="images/27-3.png"><img width="30%" + src="images/27-3.png" + alt="THE ONLY ADELINA." /></a><br /> + + <table summary="captions" + width="100%"> + <tr> + <td width="30%">AIRY FAIRY LILIAN.</td> + + <td width="30%">KING ARTHUR.</td> + + <td width="30%">THE ONLY ADELINA.</td> + </tr> + </table><a href="images/27-4.png"><img width="30%" + src="images/27-4.png" + alt="OUR ELLEN." /></a> + <a href="images/27-5.png"><img width="30%" + src="images/27-5.png" + alt="OUR HENRY." /></a> + <a href="images/27-6.png"><img width="30%" + src="images/27-6.png" + alt="THE GRASSHOPERATIC STAR." /></a><br /> + + <table summary="captions" + width="100%"> + <tr> + <td width="30%">OUR ELLEN.</td> + + <td width="30%">OUR HENRY.</td> + + <td width="30%">THE GRASSHOPERATIC STAR.</td> + </tr> + </table><a href="images/27-7.png"><img width="30%" + src="images/27-7.png" + alt="THE SOCIETY CLOWN." /></a> + <a href="images/27-8.png"><img width="30%" + src="images/27-8.png" + alt="'O.K.'" /></a> + <a href="images/27-9.png"><img width="30%" + src="images/27-9.png" + alt="OUR JOHNNIE." /></a><br /> + + <table summary="captions" + width="100%"> + <tr> + <td width="30%">THE SOCIETY CLOWN.</td> + + <td width="30%">"O.K."</td> + + <td width="30%">OUR JOHNNIE.</td> + </tr> + </table> + </div> + <hr /> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page28" + id="page28"></a>[pg 28]</span> + + <h2>ARTISTIC STARS.</h2> + + <div class="figright" + style="width:50%;"> + <a href="images/28-1.png"><img width="100%" + src="images/28-1.png" + alt="Artistic Stars." /></a> + </div> + + <p>"It's wonderful!" exclaimed TIME. "We haven't got anything + like this on Earth."</p> + + <p>"Plenty more where they come from," said his Guide + Philosopher and Friend; "but now just give me a lock of your + hair, and I'll stand you a fly through the artistic + quarter."</p> + + <p>And Mr. PUNCH, like Beauty, "drawing him with a single + hair," carried the Ancient Wanderer along with him, past + galaxies of talent, musical, dramatic, and operatic, refusing + to stop and gratify the old Gentleman's pardonable + curiosity.</p> + + <p>"I know I've got Time for it all," quoth the flying Sage, + "but I haven't space, that's where the difficulty is. As for + Literary Stars, from TENNYSON and SWINBURNE, to LANG, + STEVENSON, BLACK, BESANT, and our excellent friend, Miss + BRADDON, with other novelists too numerous to mention, we must + leave our cards on them, pay a flying visit, and just skirt the + artistic quarter."</p> + + <p>"There's the President!" exclaimed Old TIME.</p> + + <p>"Ah! everyone knows <i>him</i>," said <i>Mr. + Punch</i>—"artist and orator, and ever a Grand Young Man, + the flower of the Royal Academy."</p> + + <p>"Sir JOHN, too," cried TIME.</p> + + <p>"As fresh as his own paint is our MILLAIS," returned <i>Mr. + Punch</i>. "But 'on we goes again,' as the showman said, and + you can pick out for yourself the + Artist-Operatic-Composer-Painter-Etcher-Fellow-of-All-Souls, + and master of a variety of other accomplishments, yclept HUBERT + HERKOMER; then the gay and gallant FILDES, the chiseler BOEHME, + the big PETTIE, the Flying, not the Soaring, Dutchman, TADEMA, + the always-purchased BOUGHT'UN, the gay dog POYNTER, Cavalier + Sir JOHN GILBERT, and the chivalric DON CALDERON! There's a + galaxy for you, my boy! Can you touch these on Earth?"</p> + + <p>"Well," said TIME, slowly scratching the tip of his nose, "I + fancy I've heard of 'all the talents' before. Besides these, + there are a few more who are celebrated in black and + white—"</p> + + <p>"Rather!" cried <i>Mr. Punch</i>, enthusiastically. "My own + dear boys, with JOHN TENNIEL at their head. But they're all so + busy just now that I couldn't take up their time."</p> + + <p>"But you're taking <i>me</i> up," observed the aged T., + slily.</p> + + <p>"Quite so," returned his guide—who if, <i>per + impossibile</i>, he ever <i>could</i> be old, would be + "<i>the</i> aged P.,"—and then giving another tug at his + companion's forelock, he cried, "On we goes again! We'll be + invisible for awhile, and I'll show you our 'ARRY in the + clouds. You remember IXION in Heaven, or as 'ARRY would call + him, IXION in 'Eaven. Now see 'ARRY dreamin' o' Goddesses. Here + we go Up! Up! Up!"</p> + + <p>And what happened is told by 'ARRY in the following + letter.</p> + + <div class="figure" + style="width:99%;"> + <a href="images/28-2.png"><img width="30%" + src="images/28-2.png" + alt="'PHYLLIS IS MY ONLY JOY.'" /></a> + <a href="images/28-3.png"><img width="30%" + src="images/28-3.png" + alt="QUEEN OF SONG." /></a> + <a href="images/28-4.png"><img width="24%" + src="images/28-4.png" + alt="THE JERSEY LILY." /></a><br /> + + <table summary="captions" + width="90%"> + <tr> + <td width="39%">"PHYLLIS IS MY ONLY JOY."</td> + + <td width="37%">QUEEN OF SONG.</td> + + <td width="24%">THE JERSEY LILY.</td> + </tr> + </table> + </div> + <hr /> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page29" + id="page29"></a>[pg 29]</span> + + <h2>'ARRY'S VISIT TO THE MOON.</h2> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Dear CHARLIE,—I've bin on the scoop, and no + error this time, my dear boy!</p> + + <p>I must tell yer my rounds; it's a barney I know you + are bound to enjoy.</p> + + <p>Talk of <i>Zadkiel's Halmanack</i>, CHARLIE, JOHN + KEATS, or the <i>Man in the Moon</i>—</p> + + <p>Yah! I've cut all <i>their</i> records as clean as a + comet would lick a balloon.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>'ARRY ain't no Astronomer, leastways I ain't never + made it my mark</p> + + <p>To go nap on star-gazing; I've mostly got other good + biz arter dark.</p> + + <p>But when <i>Mister Punch</i> give me the tip 'ow + he'd take poor old TIME on the fly,</p> + + <p>Wy I tumbled to it like a shot; 'ARRY's bound to be + in it, sez I.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>So I took on the Lockyers and Procters, and mugged + up the planets and stars.</p> + + <p>With their gods and their goddesses, likeways their + thunderbolts, tridents and cars.</p> + + <p>I jogged on with old Jupiter, CHARLIE, and gave + young Apoller a turn,</p> + + <p>While as to DIANNER!—but there, that is jest + wot you're going to learn.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>It wos dry and a little bit dazing, this cram, and + you won't think it's odd</p> + + <p>If yours truly got doosedly drowsy. In fact I wos + napped on the nod,</p> + + <p>But the way I got woke wos a wunner. Oh! CHARLIE, my + precious old pal,</p> + + <p>If you'd know wot's fair yum-yum, 'ook on to a + genuine celestial gal.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>"<i>Smack!</i>" "Hillo!" sez I, starting sudden, + "where ham I, and wot's this 'ere game?"</p> + + <p>Then a pair o' blue eyes looked in mine with a + lime-lighty sort of a flame,</p> + + <p>As made me feel moony immediate. "Great Pompey," + thinks I, "here's a spree!</p> + + <p>It's DIANNER by all that is proper, and as for + Enjimmyun—that's <i>Me</i>!"</p> + </div> + </div> + + <div class="figright" + style="width:40%;"> + <a href="images/29-1.png"><img width="100%" + src="images/29-1.png" + alt="" /></a> + </div> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>For I see a young person in—well, I ain't much + up in classical togs,</p> + + <p>But she called it a "chlamys," I think. She'd a bow, + and a couple of dogs,</p> + + <p>"Rayther forward and sportive young party," thinks + I, Sandown-Parky in style;</p> + + <p>But pooty, and larky no doubt, so I tips her a wink + and a smile.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>"All right, Miss DIANNER," sez I. "You 'ave won + 'em—the gloves—and no kid.</p> + + <p>Wot size, Miss, and 'ow many buttons?" But she never + lowered a lid,</p> + + <p>And the red on her cheeks warn't no blush but a + reglar indignant flare-up,</p> + + <p>Whilst the look from her proud pair of lamps 'it as + 'ard and as straight as a Krupp.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Brought me sharp to my bearings, I tell yer. "Young + mortal," she sez, "it is plain</p> + + <p>An Enjimmyun is not to be found in the purlieus of + Chancery Lane.</p> + + <p>And that Primrose 'Ill isn't a Latmos. The things + you call gloves I don't wear,</p> + + <p>Only buskins. But don't you be rude, or the fate of + Actæon you'll share."</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>I wosn't quite fly to her patter, but "mortal" might + jest 'ave bin "cub,"</p> + + <p>From the high-perlite way she pernounced it, and + plainly DIANNER meant "snub."</p> + + <p>Struck me moony, her manner, did CHARLIE, she + hypnertised me with her looks,</p> + + <p>And the next thing I knowed I was padding the 'oof + in a region of spooks.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Spooks, is bogies and ghostesses, CHARLIE, according + to latter-day chat,—</p> + + <p>And the place where DIANNER conveyed, me <i>was</i> + spooky, and spectral at that.</p> + + <p>"Where <i>are</i> we, Miss, if I <i>may</i> arsk?" I + sez, orfully 'umbl for me.</p> + + <p>Then she turns 'er two lamps on me sparkling. "Of + course we're in Limbo," sez she.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Didn't quite like the lay on it, CHARLIE, for Limbo + sounds precious like quod:</p> + + <p>But <i>she</i> meant Lunar Limbo, dear boy, sort o' + store-room, where everythink odd,</p> + + <p>Out of date, foolish, faddy, and sech like, is kept + like old curio stock.</p> + + <p>(Ef yer want to know more about Limbo, read Mr. + POPE's <i>Rape of the Lock</i>.)</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>"So this 'ere is the Moon, Miss!" sez I. "Where's + the Man there's sech talk on downstairs?"</p> + + <p>She looked at me 'orty. Thinks I, "You're a 'ot 'un + to give yourself hairs.</p> + + <p>I may level you down a bit later: The Man in the + Moon, Miss," I adds.</p> + + <p>Sez she, "We don't 'ave Men up here; they are most + of them tyrants or cads!"</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>"Oh," sez I, "on the MONA CAIRD lay, eh, my lady?" + Jest then, mate, I looks</p> + + <p>And sees male-looking things by the dozen: but then + they turned out to be spooks.</p> + + <p>There was TOLSTOI the Rooshian romancer, a + grim-looking son of a gun,</p> + + <p>Welting into young Cupid like scissors, and + wallopping Hymen like fun.</p> + </div> + </div> + + <div class="figright" + style="width:33%;"> + <a href="images/29-2.png"><img width="100%" + src="images/29-2.png" + alt="" /></a> + </div> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Old Hymen looked 'orrified rayther; but as for young + Arrers-and-'Arts,</p> + + <p><i>He</i> turned up his nose at the old 'un, whilst + all the gay donas and tarts,</p> + + <p>Not to mention the matronly mivvies, were arter the + boy with the bow,</p> + + <p>Plainly looking on TOLSTOI and IBSEN as crackpots, + and not in the know.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>"Queer paper, my dear Miss DIANNER," sez I, "wot do + <i>you</i> think?" Sez she,</p> + + <p>"A mere Vision of Vanities, mortal, of no speshal + interest to me.</p> + + <p><i>I</i> am not the keeper of Limbo, although it is + found in my sphere.</p> + + <p>Everything that's absurd and unnatural claims a + clear right to come <i>here</i>.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>"See, the latest Art-Hobbies are ambling about with + their 'eads in the air,</p> + + <p>And their riders are tilting like true toothpick + paladins. SMUDGE over there</p> + + <p>Makes a bee-line for SCRATCH in this corner, whilst + MUCK and the Mawkish at odds,</p> + + <p>Clash wildly, and Naturalism pink Sentiment + painfully prods."</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Then I twigged Penny WHISTLER's white plume, and the + haddypose HOSCAR upreared,</p> + + <p>His big hairy horryflame, CHARLIE, whilst + Phillistines looked on and jeered.</p> + + <p>I see Nature, as Narstiness, ramping at wot + Nambypamby dubbed Nice,</p> + + <p>And Twoddle parading as Virtue, and Silliness + playing at Vice.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Here was pooty girls Primrosing madly, and spiling + their tempers a lump,</p> + + <p>By telling absurd taradiddles for some big political + pump;</p> + </div> + </div><span class="pagenum"><a name="page30" + id="page30"></a>[pg 30]</span> + + <div class="figcenter" + style="width:100%;"> + <a href="images/30.png"><img width="100%" + src="images/30.png" + alt="" /></a> + </div><span class="pagenum"><a name="page31" + id="page31"></a>[pg 31]</span> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>And there wos 'ard-mouthed middle-aged 'uns a + shaking the Socherlist flag,</p> + + <p>And a ramping like tiger-cats tipsy around a + rediklus red rag.</p> + </div> + </div> + + <div class="figright" + style="width:30%;"> + <a href="images/31-1.png"><img width="100%" + src="images/31-1.png" + alt="" /></a> + </div> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>There wos patriots playing the clown, there was + magistrates playing the fool;</p> + + <p>There wos jugginses teaching the trombone to kids at + a bloomin' Board School.</p> + + <p>"This is Free Hedgercation in Shindy," sez I. + "They're as mad as March hares,</p> + + <p>All these Limboites, dear Miss DIANNER. We do it + <i>much</i> better downstairs!"</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>She smiled kinder scoffish, I fancied, and give 'er + white shoulders a hunch.</p> + + <p>Says she; "I've no comments to make. It's along of + my friend <i>Mr. Punch</i></p> + + <p>Whom the whole Solar System obeys, and the Court of + Olympus respects,</p> + + <p>That I wait on you 'ere, Mister ARRY. Pray what + would you like to see next?"</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>"Well," sez I, with a glance at her gaiters, "I've + heard you're a whale, Miss, at Sport.</p> + + <p>Do you 'know anythink' wuth my notice?" She gave me + a look of a sort,</p> + + <p>As I can't put in words, not exactly, a sort o' cold + <i>scorch</i>, dontcherknow.</p> + + <p>That's a bit of a parrydocks p'raps; anyhow, it hurt + wus than a blow.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>But we went on the fly once agen—can't say 'ow + it wos managed, but soon</p> + + <p>We 'ad passed to a rum-looking region—the + opposite side of the Moon,</p> + + <p>Where no mortal afore had set foot, nor yet eyes, + Miss DIANNER declared.</p> + + <p>"Here's a Region of Sport!" sez the lady. Good + Gracechurch Street, mate, 'ow I stared!</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Seemed a sort of a blend-like of Hepsom, and + Goodwood, and Altcar, mixed up</p> + + <p>With the old Epping 'Unt and new Hurlingham, + thoughts of the Waterloo Cup,</p> + + <p>Swell Polo and Pigeon-match tumbled about in my + mind, while the din</p> + + <p>Was like Putney Reach piled on a Prizefight, with + Kennington Oval chucked in.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>There wos toffs, fair top new 'uns, mixed hup with + the welcher, the froth with the scum;</p> + + <p>There wos duchesses, proud as DIANNER, and + she-things as sniffed of the slum;</p> + + <p>There was "champions" thick as bluebottles, and + plungers as plenty as peas,</p> + + <p>With stoney-brokes, pale as a poultice, and + "crocks," orful gone at the knees;</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>I see a whole howling mix-up of "mug" booky, + dog-owner and rough,</p> + + <p>A-watching of snaky-shaped hounds pelting 'ard + 'after bits o' brown fluff,</p> + + <p>I see—and the Sportsman within me began for to + bubble and burn,</p> + + <p>And I yelled, "O my hazure-horbed Mistress, can't + you and me 'ave jest a turn?"</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>We <i>did</i>, and my "Purdey Extractor" made play, + though it ain't me to brag,</p> + + <p>But somehow her arrers went straighter, and 'ers wos + the heaviest bag.</p> + + <p>"Let <i>me</i> 'ave a try, Miss," sez I, "with that + trifle from Lowther Arcade!"</p> + + <p>I tried, and hit one of her dogs, as she didn't + think sport I'm afraid.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>The 'ound didn't seem much to mind it; immortal, I + spose, like Miss D.;</p> + + <p>Then we 'ad a slap arter the deer, and she'd very + soon nailed two or three.</p> + + <p><i>I</i> wos out of it, couldn't pot one, and it + needled me orful, dear boy,</p> + + <p>To be licked by a gal, <i>though</i> a goddess, and + armed with a archery toy!</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Her togs wos a little bit quisby—for moors as + ain't pitched in the Moon,</p> + + <p>And <i>there wasn't no pic-nic, dear boy!</i> I got + peckish and parched pooty soon.</p> + + <p><i>She</i> lapped from a brook, and her hoptics went + wide as a cop on the watch,</p> + + <p>When I hinted around rayther square, <i>I</i> should + like a small drop of cold Scotch.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Well, well; I must cut this yarn short. We'd a turn + at Moon Sports like all round,</p> + + <p>Wish I'd time to describe our Big Boar + Hunt—DIANNER's pet pastime I found,</p> + + <p>Can't say it was <i>mine</i>; bit too risky. + Pigsticking in Ingy may suit</p> + + <p>White Shikkarries or Princes, dear boy, but yer Boar + is a nasty big brute.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Too much tusk for my taste! 'Owsomever DIANNER she + speared him to rights,</p> + + <p>And I dropped from the tree I'd shinned up when the + boar had made tracks for my tights.</p> + + <p>"Bravo, Miss DIANNER!" I sez. "You are smart, for a + gal, with that spear.</p> + + <p>But didn't yer get jest a mossel alarmed—fur + yer 'ARRY, my dear?"</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Put it hamorous like, with a wink, snugging up to + the lady, I did;</p> + + <p>For she'd found a weak spot in my 'art, this cold + classical gal, and no kid.</p> + + <p>I'd been 'aving a pull at my flask, up that tree, + and her pluck and blue eyes</p> + + <p>Made me feel a bit spoony; in fact I was mashed. + But, O wot a surprise!</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>"Alarmed? about <i>you</i>, Sir! And <i>why</i>?" + sez DIANNER, with eyes all aflash,</p> + + <p>I sez, "Don't yer remember Adonis, love, Venus's + boar-'unting mash?</p> + + <p>No wonder the lady felt fainty like; fear for a + sweetheart, yer see.</p> + + <p>And—well, if I'm not quite Adonis, <i>you + found your Enjimmyun</i> in <i>Me</i>!</p> + </div> + </div> + + <div class="figright" + style="width:50%;"> + <a href="images/31-2.png"><img width="100%" + src="images/31-2.png" + alt="" /></a> + </div> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>"One more, only one, dear DIANNER," I sez. And I + aimed for a kiss,</p> + + <p>I made for her lips, a bee-line. But great snakes, + my dear boy, wot a miss!</p> + + <p>Hit me over the 'ed with her boar-spear, a spanker, + she did, like a shot.</p> + + <p>Don't you never spoon goddesses, CHARLIE; you'll + find it a dashed sight too 'ot!</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>"Adonis!" she cried. "Nay, Actæon! And his shall be + also thy fate.</p> + + <p>There is <i>Punch</i> looking on, he'll approve!" + And she jest set 'er dogs on me, straight!</p> + + <p>"Way-oh! Miss DIANNER!" I yells. "No offence! Don't + be 'ard on a bloke!</p> + + <p>Beg yer pardon, I'm sure!" Here a hound nipped my + calf like a vice, and—I woke.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Leastways, I persoom it <i>wos</i> waking, if + 'tother was sleep and a dream,</p> + + <p>But I feel a bit moon-struck, dear boy. Spooks + abound, and things ain't what they seem.</p> + + <p><i>Mister Punch</i> sez, "it served me quite right." + Well, next time correspondence he'd carry</p> + + <p>With satterlites, spesh'ly the Moon, he had better + not drop upon 'ARRY.</p> + </div> + </div><span class="pagenum"><a name="page32" + id="page32"></a>[pg 32]</span> + + <p>"Poor fellow, I pity him," said <i>Mr. Punch</i> to Father + TIME, as the pair passed away from the Lunar precincts + together, bowing courteously, and a little apologetically, to + 'ARRY's late hostess, who called off her dogs, and affably + responded to their parting salutation. "Fact is," pursued the + Sage, "my young friend 'ARRY, though smart and <i>fin de + siècle</i>, in his way, is a little of 'the earth, earthy,' and + lacks both the adventurousness and the tact of an Ixion."</p> + + <p>"I presume," said the Scythe-bearer, "our inter-planetary + peregrinations are now pretty nearly at an end—for this + time?"</p> + + <p>"We have yet one more visit to pay," said <i>Mr. + Punch</i>.</p> + + <p>At this moment, as the space-pervading trio fleeted forward, + a strange unusual effulgence grew to the eastward, and began to + bathe them in golden light. Miraculously metamorphic was its + action upon the aërial travellers. <i>Mr. Punch</i> flung aside + his hat and his "Immensikoff," and appeared as the Apollo-like + personage he really is. TOBY's wings expanded, and his pace + mended. As for "Old Father TIME" himself, the combined + influence of the regenerating philtre in <i>Faust</i>, and the + fire-bath in <i>She</i>, could not more completely have + transmogrified him. His face brightened with youthfulness, his + solitary forelock bushed out into a wavy and hyacinthine + hirsute crop, his ancient and magician-like garments fell from + him, his plumes expanded, until he looked more like "the herald + Mercury" than old Edax Rerum.</p> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Then they swung, as on airy <i>trapèze</i>, or on + wings of the thunder-bird strong,</p> + + <p>With the sound in their ears of the voice of the + starry and sisterly throng.</p> + + <p>Did the orbs of splendiferous Sol give a wink as + they ranged into reach?</p> + + <p>Was his genial mouth all alight with the flame of + the friendliest speech?</p> + + <p>Hey, Presto! Great Scott! Transformation on + DRURIOLANUS's stage</p> + + <p>Was never so sudden as this! Who rides there as the + Sun-God? The Sage!</p> + + <p>The Great Hypnotiser! Utopia's lord! He Who Must Be + Obeyed!</p> + + <p>He whose Magical Spell is on Princes and Peoples, on + Art and on Trade.</p> + + <p><i>Houp-là!</i> Transformation tremendous! The round + of the Planets we've travelled,</p> + + <p>Some curious secrets unveiled, and some mysteries + mighty unravelled.</p> + + <p><i>We manage things better on Earth!</i> That's the + formula! Sounds it sardonic?</p> + + <p>Was <i>Punch</i> just a morsel sarcastic, his hosts + just a trifle ironic?</p> + + <p>At any rate, <i>Punch</i> here explains to the World + how to manage things better,</p> + + <p>By purging Humanity's spirit, and snapping Hate's + tyrannous fetter.</p> + + <p>He'd Hypnotise Man into health, both of body and + spirit, and out of</p> + + <p>The follies, and vices, and greeds, and conceits. + See the whole Comus-rout of</p> + + <p>Absurdities, Appetites, Antics, Antipathies, + personal, national,</p> + + <p>Driven before his bright Sun-Car! The Rule of the + Rosily Rational</p> + + <p>He would inaugurate, making Earth's atmosphere + healthy as Thanet's,</p> + + <p><i>That</i> Father TIME, is his aim; <i>that's</i> + the Moral of <i>Punch</i> and the Planets!</p> + </div> + </div> + + <div class="figcenter" + style="width:100%;"> + <a href="images/32.png"><img width="100%" + src="images/32.png" + alt="" /></a> + </div> + <hr class="full" /> + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Punch Among the Planets, by Various + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PUNCH AMONG THE PLANETS *** + +***** This file should be named 13244-h.htm or 13244-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/1/3/2/4/13244/ + +Produced by Malcolm Farmer, William Flis, and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team. + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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b/old/13244-h/images/9.png diff --git a/old/13244.txt b/old/13244.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..df83d4a --- /dev/null +++ b/old/13244.txt @@ -0,0 +1,2801 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Punch Among the Planets, 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 Among the Planets + +Author: Various + +Release Date: August 21, 2004 [EBook #13244] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PUNCH AMONG THE PLANETS *** + + + + +Produced by Malcolm Farmer, William Flis, and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team. + + + + + +PUNCH, + +OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. + + + +Christmas Number 1890. + + * * * * * + +[Illustration: Punch Among the Planets] + +CHRISTMAS NUMBER 1890. + + * * * * * + +INTRODUCTION. + +The Old Year was fast nearing its close, the night was clear and +starry, and Father Time, from the top of his observatory tower, was +taking a last look round. + +To him entered, unannounced save by the staccato yap of the faithful +_Tobias_, Time's unfailing friend, unerring Mentor, and immortal +contemporary, _Mr. Punch_. + +"_I_ am not for an age, but for All Time," freely quoted the Swan's +sole parallel. "And very much at Time's service," he added, throwing +open his fur-lined "Immensikoff," and lighting a cigar at the +Scythe-bearer's lantern. + +[Illustration: Punch Among the Planets] + +"Happy to meet you once more, _Mr. Punch_," responded old Edax Rerum, +turning from what the poet calls his 'Optic Tube' to welcome his +sprightly visitor. "Awfully good of you to turn up just now. Like +True THOMAS's _Teufelsdroeckh_, 'I am alone with the Stars,' and was +beginning to feel just a little bit lonely." + +"With the Voces Stellarum to keep you company? You surprise me," +said _Mr. Punch_. "But what is all this?" he added, pointing with +accustomed eye to a pile of MS. at TIME's elbow. + +If so old a stager as Father TIME _can_ blush, he certainly did so on +this occasion. + +"Fact is, _Mr. Punch_," he rejoined, "I, like younger and shall I +say lesser Celebrities, have been writing my 'Reminiscences.' Ha ha! +_The Chronicles of Chronos_ in 6,000 volumes or so--up to now. This +is a small portion of my _Magnum Opus_. Can you recommend me to a +publisher?" + +"Ask my friend Archdeacon FARRAR," responded the Sage, drily. "What +a work! And what a sensation! TALLEYRAND's long-talked-of 'Memoirs' +not in it! Do you know, my dear TIME, I think you had better postpone +the publication--for an aeon or so at least. _Your Magnum Opus_ might +become a _Scandalum Magnatum_." + +"Ah, perhaps so," replied TIME, with a sigh. + +"Alone with the Stars," pursued _Mr. Punch_, meditatively. "Humph! The +Solar System alone ought to provide you with plenty of company." + +"Yes." responded TIME, "but, after all, you know, telescopic +intercourse is not entirely satisfactory. Like EDGAR POE's _Hans +Pfaal_, I feel I should like to come to closer quarters with the +'heavenly bodies' as the pedagogues call them." + +"And why not?" queried _Mr. Punch_, coolly. + +"As how?" asked his companion. + +"TIME, my boy" laughed the Sage, "you seem a bit behind yourself. +Listen! 'Mr. EDISON is prosecuting an experiment designed to catch and +record the sounds made in the sun's photosphere when solar spots are +formed by eruptions beneath the surface.' Have you not read the latest +of the Edisoniana?" + +TIME admitted he had not. + + "TIME, you rogue, you love to get + Sweets upon your list--put _that_ in," + +quoted the Sage. "Something piquant for the 6001st Vol. of your +Chronicles. But, after all, what is EDISON compared with Me? If you +really wish for a turn round the Solar System, a peregrination of the +Planets, put aside that antiquated spy-glass of yours and come with +Me!" + +And, "taking TIME by the forelock," in a very real sense, the Sage of +Fleet Street rose with him like a Brock rocket, high, and swift, and +light-compelling, into the star-spangled vault of heaven. + +"SIC ITUR AD ASTRA!" said the Sage. + + "Twinkle, twinkle, Fleet Street Star! + Saturn wonders who _you_ are, + Up above the world so high, + Like a portent in the sky. + Wonders if, Jove-like, you want, + Him to banish and supplant! + Fear not, Saturn; _Punch's_ bolt + Arms Right Order, not Revolt; + Dread no fratricidal wars + From this 'Star' among the Stars!" + + * * * * * + +VISIT TO SATURN. + +"I am glad to hear _that_, at any rate," said Saturn, welcoming the +illustrious guests to his remote golden-ringed realm. + +[Illustration] + +Saturn, however, did not look exactly comfortable, and his voice, how +unlike "To that large utterance of the early gods," sounded quavering +and querulous. + +"It is customary," said he, "to talk, as the old Romans rather +confusedly did, of 'the Saturnian reign' as the true 'Golden Age,' +identified with civilisation, social order, economic perfection, and +agricultural profusion. As a matter of fact, I've always been treated +badly, from the day when Jupiter dethroned me to that when, the Grand +Old Man--who _ought_ to have had more sympathy with me--banished +hither the strife-engendering Pedant's hotch-potch called Political +Economy." + +"Be comforted, Saturn, old boy--_I_ am here!" cried _Mr. Punch_. "I +am 'personally conducting' Father TIME in a tour of the Planets. Let's +have a look round your realm!" + +_Mr. Punch_ sums up much of what he saw in modern "Saturnian Verses." + +_Punch_. Good gracious! my worthy old Ancient, who once held the sway + of the heavens, + Your realm seems a little bit shaky; what mortals call "sixes and + sevens"! + +_Saturn_. That's scarcely god-lingo, my boy; but 'tis much as you + say, and no wonder. + Free imports have ruined my realm--I refer to Bad-Temper and Blunder, + Two brutish and boobyish Titans--they've wholly corrupted our morals, + And taught us "Boycotting," and "Strikes," and "Lock-outs," and all + sorts of mad quarrels. + I hope you don't know them down there, in your queer little speck of + a planet, + These humbugging latter-day Titans? + +_Punch_. That cannot concern you--now can it? + +_Saturn_. Just look at the shindy down yonder! + +_Punch_. By Jove, what the doose are they doing? + +_Saturn_. Oh, settling the Great Social Question! + +_Father Time_. It looks as though mischief were brewing. + +_Saturn_. Sort of parody of the old fight, which was splendid at least, + if tremendous, + 'Twixt Jove and the Titans of old. That colossus, gold-armoured, + stupendous, + Perched high on the "Privilege" ramparts, and bastioned by big bags of + bullion, + Is "Capital"; he's the new Jove, and each Titan would treat as his + scullion, + But look at the huge Hundred-Handed One, armed with the scythe and the + sickle, + The hammer, the spade, and the pick! + +_Father Time_. Things appear in no end of a pickle! + +_Saturn_. Precisely! That's Labour-Briareus; backed up by "Bad Temper" + and "Blunder," + And egged on by "Spout" (with a Fog-Horn); he's "going for" him of the + Thunder, + And Gold ramparts headlong, _a outrance_. + +_Punch_. But look at the spectres behind them! + +_Saturn_. Ah! Terrors from Tartarus, those to which only Bad Temper + can blind them. + Those spectres foreshadow grim fate; they are Lawlessness, Ruin, + Starvation; + To the Thunderer dismal defeat, to the conquerors blank desolation. + +The Sage looked serious. + +These things, mused he, are an allegory, perhaps, but of a +significance not wholly Saturnian. + +[Illustration] + +"Saturn, old boy" said he, "cannot what sentimentalists call 'the +Dismal Science,' which as you say has been banished hither, do +anything to help you out of this hobble?" + +"The Dismal Science," responded Saturn, whose panaceas of Unrestricted +Competition, Free Combination, Cheap Markets, Supply and Demand, +&c., have landed its disciples in Sweating Dens on the one side and +Universal Strikes on the other, can hardly offer itself as a cure for +the New Socialism. Like Rhea of old, when asked for food, it proffers +a stone." + +"Ah!" quoth Father TIME, "you manage these things much better on the +Earth, doubtless." + +"Doubtless," replied the Sage, drily, as he and Father TIME took their +departure. + + * * * * * + +VISIT TO MARS. + +[Illustration] + +So Mr. PUNCH, holding TIME by the forelock, continued his journey. + +"Where are we now?" asked the more elderly gentleman. + +"My good friend," replied the Sage of Fleet Street, "we are +approaching Mars, which as you know, or should know (if your education +has been completed under the supervision of the School Board) is +sometimes called the Red Planet." + +"So I have often heard. But why?" + +"That is what we shall soon discover. But now keep quiet, as we have +arrived." + +With the gentlest of gentle shocks _Mr. Punch_ and his companion +found themselves on a mound, which they soon recognised as a mountain. +Looking below them, they saw masses of scarlet, apparently in motion. +It was then that TIME regretted that he had not brought with him his +telescope. + +"It would have been so useful," he murmured, "and if a little bulky, +what of that? Surely _Mr. Punch_ is accustomed to make light of +everything?" + +"See, some one is approaching," observed the Sage of Fleet Street, +whose eye-sight was better than that of his companion. And sure +enough a lively young officer at this moment put in an appearance, +and saluted. + +"Glad to see you both," said he; "and, by order of the General +Commander-in-Chief, you are to make what use you please of me. I am +entirely at your service." + +"Why, you speak English!" exclaimed _Mr. Punch_. + +[Illustration] + +"That is so!" returned the young officer in American; "and why not? +Besides I know French, Russian, German, and all the languages spoken +on your little globe, to say nothing of the dialects used by those who +inhabit the rest of the planets. It's our system. Nowadays, a man in +the Service is expected to be up in everything. If he wasn't, how on +earth could he fight, or do anything else in a satisfactory fashion? +And now let us bustle along." + +"But first," put in TIME, who did not relish being silent, "will you +kindly tell us what those masses of colour are?" + +[Illustration] + +"Certainly. They are troops. We put them in scarlet in peace, but they +appear in their shirtsleeves the moment war's declared. Novel idea, +isn't it?" + +And then the pleasant-spoken young officer led the way to a lift, and, +touching a button, the three descended from the top of the mountain to +the valley beneath. + +"On the counterweight system," explained the A.D.C. "We cribbed +the idea from Folkestone, and Lynmouth. And here, _Mr. Punch_, is +something that will interest you. We absolutely howled at that sketch +of yours showing the mechanical policeman. Don't you know--old woman +puts a penny in the slot and stops the traffic? And here's the idea +developed. See that mechanical sentry. I put a penny in the slot, and +he pays me the usual compliment. He shoulders arms, as I am only a +captain--worse luck! If I were of field rank he would come smartly +to the present." + +And sure enough the mechanical soldier saluted. + +"It's not half a bad idea," continued the agreeable A.D.C. "You see +sentry-go is awfully unpopular, and a figure of iron in times of peace +is every bit as good as a man of brass. The pence go to the Canteen +Fund along with the fines for drunkenness. It seems reasonable enough +that a fellow, if he wants to be saluted, should pay for the +swagger. If a fellow likes to turn out the guard, he can do it with +sixpence--but then of course he hasn't the right unless his rank +permits it--see?" + +By this time the mechanical soldier had returned to the slope, and was +parading his beat in a somewhat jerky manner. + +"And now what would you fellows like to do?" asked the A.D.C. "Pardon +the familiarity, but nowadays age doesn't count, does it? Everybody's +young. One of the best _Juliets_ I ever knew had turned sixty, and +played to a _Romeo_ who was twenty years her senior. Nothing like that +down below, I suppose?" + +"Nothing," returned _Mr. Punch_. + +"So I have always understood. Well, where shall we go first?" + +"Anywhere you like," said the Sage of Fleet Street. "But are you sure +that we are not unduly trespassing on your time?" + +[Illustration] + +"Not at all--only too delighted. It's all in the day's work. We have +a lot of distinguished visitors that we have to take round. I like it +myself, but some of our fellows kick against it. Of course it doesn't +refer to you two; but you can fancy what a nuisance it must be for +all our fellows to have to get up in full rig, and bow and scrape, +and march and countermarch, and go through the whole bag of tricks, to +some third-rate Royalty? Ah! they are happier off at Aldershot, aren't +they?" + +"No doubt," was the prompt reply. + +_Mr. Punch_ and Father TIME had now entered a barrack square, wherein +a number of trembling recruits were standing in front of a sergeant. + +"I am just putting them through their paces, Sir," said he: "they are +a bit rusty in bowing drill." + +The A.D.C. nodded, and, turning on his heel, explained to the visitors +that it was the object of the Authorities to introduce as much as +possible of the civil element into the Army. + +"You will see this idea carried out a little further in the +institution we are now entering," he added, as the three walked into +a building that looked like a handsome Club-house. At the door was an +officer in the uniform of the Guards. + +"Hullo, HUGHIE," said the A.D.C., "on duty to-day?" + +"As hall-porter. CHARLIE is smoking-room waiter. I say, do you want to +take your friends round?" + +"Well, I should like to let them get a glimpse of TOMMY ATKINS at his +ease." + +"All right, you can pass. But, I say, just warn them to keep quiet +when they get near him. We have had no end of a time to smooth him +down." + +[Illustration] + +Thus warned, the Sage and Father TIME passed through the hall and +entered the smoking-room. Stretched at full length on a couple of +chairs was a Private, lazily sipping a glass of brandy and soda-water, +that had just been supplied to him by an officer of his own battalion. +On withdrawing, the A.D.C. greeted the commissioned waiter who +answered to the name of CHARLIE. + +"Rather rough, eh?" said he, with a glance at a tray containing a +cork-screw and an empty bottle. + +"A bit better than Bermuda. If we don't coerce them, we must be +polite. After all, fagging turned out the heroes of Winchester and +Westminster, and wasn't Waterloo won on the playing-fields of Eton?" + +"Rather a dangerous game, isn't it?" observed _Mr. Punch_. "You'll +have to fall in next, and TOMMY will inspect you, and give you a +couple of days' extra drill for not having cleaned your rifle!" + +"Well, if I don't look after my arms, I shall have merited the +punishment; and, after all, it will only be a case of turn and +turn about," was the reply. Then the A.D.C. added, "Hang me, too, I +believe, with all we fellows have to do nowadays, that if we _did_ +change with TOMMY ATKINS, we, and not he, would have the best of the +bargain!" + +[Illustration] + +Leaving the Soldiers' Club, _Mr. Punch_ and Father TIME continued +their journey. They had not proceeded far, when the A.D.C. invited +them to enter a building known as the Museum. + +"It really is a most useful and interesting institution," said the +officer of the Planet Mars. "Here, you see, we have portrait models of +the officer of the past and present. In the past, you will notice, he +sacrificed everything to athletic sports--if he could fence, shoot, +hunt, and play cricket, polo, and football, he was quite satisfied. +His successor of to-day devotes all his time to study. He must master +the higher branches of mathematics before he is considered fit to +inspect the rear-rank of a company, and know the modern languages +before he can be entrusted with the command of a left half-battalion. +Here again we have the uniform of an officer in peace and war--swagger +and gold lace on the one side, and stern simplicity and kharki on the +other." + +In another room _Mr. Punch_ and Father TIME discovered that everyone +was fast asleep. There was a Cabinet Minister supported by two minor +officials--all three of them absolutely unconscious. There were +any number of Generals decorated from belt to neck--any quantity +of higher-grade clerks--one and all slumbering: "This is called the +Intelligence Department of the Army," explained the A.D.C. "You have +nothing like it in England?" + +"Nothing!" returned _Mr. Punch_, as he disappeared. + + * * * * * + +VISIT TO MERCURY. + +[Illustration] + +Mr. Punch and Father Time were once again whirling on their way +through boundless space. + +They were approaching their next destination, and the dark globe +of the planet had just come into view on the horizon. Rapidly it +increased in size as they neared it, and the seas and continents could +be easily traced. + +"Dear me?" exclaimed _Mr. Punch_. "Why, I declare if there is not +something written upon it!" and he put up his binoculars, "Why, it is +nothing more nor less than a big advertisement. Looks like humbug," he +continued. "What's the name of the Planet, eh?" + +"Mercury," replied Father TIME, with cheery spirit; "and with that +device they try to catch the eye of a passing Comet." + +"Hum--they won't catch me!" observed the Sage, brightly. "I brought +my truth-compeller with me--a little, patent, electrical hypnotic +arrangement, in the shape of this ring"--he showed it as he spoke. "I +have only to turn it on my finger, and it obliges anyone who may be +addressing me instantly to speak the truth." + +They suddenly found themselves deposited in the centre of a vast +square, surrounded by large palatial-looking buildings, public +offices, stores, shops, picture-galleries, gigantic blocks of +private residences, in flats five-and-twenty storeys high, and +other architectural developments of the latest constructive crazes, +fashioned, apparently, after the same models, and on similar lines, +to those at present so much in vogue in that now distant planet, the +Earth. There was a profusion of advertisement-boards, these, in many +instances, entirely covering the whole facade of the building with +large-lettered announcements of the nature of the trade or business +conducted within. An eager and excited crowd thronging the pavements, +and hustling each other, without any apparent purpose or aim, was +pushing in all directions. + +"I wonder what all this is about," observed _Mr. Punch_; "suppose we +ask a Policeman?" + +They noticed a being attired in every respect like the familiar +guardians of the peace on Earth, except that he carried a harmless +and gaily-decked bladder in place of the more serviceable _baton_, and +beckoned to him. He approached with polite alacrity. + +"You want to know what's up, Gents?" he commenced, divining their +purpose instinctively. "It's the Half-Quarterly Meeting of the Solid +Gold Extract of Brick-Dust Company. There's been some little talk +about the dividend not being quite so good as the prospectus led the +shareholders to believe, and as the shares have been mostly taken up +by widows and orphans, some of their friends, you see, are a little +anxious to hear the Chairman's Report. But, you see, it'll be all +right." + +At this moment a widow, with blanched cheeks and dishevelled hair, +who had been listening with an anxious and eager gaze to what the +Policeman had been saying, joined the group. + +_Mr. Punch_ looked at her with mournful sympathy, and slowly turning +the ring on his finger, addressed the Policeman. "Tell me, my good +man," he said, persuasively, "is that the truth? Is it really all +right?" + +"All right?" rejoined the guardian of the peace in amazement, but +apparently unconscious of the purport of his speech, "I should rather +think not. Call it 'all wrong' and then you'll about hit it. Why it's +well known that the patent's all _fudge_. It's the biggest swindle +out. No more in it than in this here bladder. But you'll see; the +whole thing's burst, and you'll know it in a minute." + +The words were scarcely out of his mouth when a roar of a thousand +angry voices, followed by a sudden rush from the building of a mad +and raging crowd, obliged _Mr. Punch_, for a moment, to pause. When +the uproar had somewhat subsided, he turned to the Policeman, and +pointed feelingly to the unfortunate widow, who had fallen on to an +apple-stall in a fit of hysterics, and, locking his arm in that of his +aged companion, proceeded to cross the square. "Give us a song, old +'un!" shouted a portion of the mob, who had followed them. + +"Certainly. Oblige them!" added _Mr. Punch_, taking a banjo from +one of the crowd and placing it in Father TIME's hands. "Give them a +stanza of the Ballad of Truth." + +He turned his ring, and his aged companion struck up the following +ditty:-- + + "Know ye the land where dwells only mock-turtle, + Where wine that should gladden but makes you fell queer. + Where bayonets bend, where guns burst and hurtle + Their breech in the face of their friends at the rear, + Where lamps labelled 'safety' with just terrors fill you, + Where water supplied you for milk is no theft, + Where pills that should cure, if persisted in, kill you + And the 'Hair Resurrector' takes all you've got left! + Where soap, that should soften your skin, only flays you, + Where a horse proves a screw though got through a friend, + Where the loss of your 'cover' confounds and dismays you, + Though assured by the _Firm_ 'if you hold on t'will mend'? + Know ye, in fine, where by pushing and 'rushing,' + This--and much more, down the public throat crams, + Blatant Advertisement, brazen, unblushing--? + If you do, then you've spotted the _Planet of Shams_." + +[Illustration] + +Though a few paving-stones were hurled at the aged singer, the +conclusion of his sons was greeted by a general roar of laughter, the +populace apparently recognising the picture of their own chicanery +with amusement and relish. + +After that they held on their way for some minutes in silence. They +had now reached the other side, and were confronted by a couple +of respectable-looking gentlemen of an almost clerical aspect, who +appeared to be catering in the public streets in the interests of some +institution. They approached _Mr. Punch_ and Father TIME, and offered +them a prospectus. + +"'THE DEAR LITTLE CHILDREN'S HAPPY AND ELEGANT BURIAL INSTITUTION,'" +read _Mr. Punch_, surveying the paper presented to him, and +continuing, "'_A trivial payment of Ninepence a Month will ensure +the youthful Subscriber, or his Representative, a sweet and +elegantly-constructed little Coffin, beautifully frilled, with a +one-black-horse Family Omnibus Hearse, and a tray of Two Handsome +Plumes. N.B.--if preferred, payment of L2 19s. 6d. in cash on +production of Corpse._'" + +They showed _Mr. Punch_ and Father TIME up the front steps, and +ushered them into a large hall. It was thronged with a crowd of dirty +and raggedly-dressed people, and partitioned off by a handsome and +massive mahogany counter, beyond which sat a staff of clerks busily +engaged in keeping the books and generally discharging the duties of +the institution. + +[Illustration] + +"Ha, Mrs. MACSTOGGINS, and are we in your debt again?" asked the Agent +of a beetle-browed woman of a sinister and forbidding expression, who +was thrusting a paper across the counter to the cashier. + +"Yes; and I'll trouble you not to keep me waiting, either--seeing that +it's gone three days since the burial." + +"Is this woman demanding the insurance money for the burial of her own +child?" asked _Mr. Punch_, sternly. And he turned his ring. "And pray, +Madam," he continued, addressing the beetle-browed woman, "tell me the +truth." + +"Certainly," replied the woman, as if in a trance. "First, I insured +my own KATE--then I starved her to death, and took the money. Then +little BILL followed. I let him catch cold in the winter, and gave +him a night or two on the stones, and that finished him. Then came TIM +FLAHERTY, and I managed him with the beetle-poison, and--" + +"Come," said _Mr. Punch_, taking Father TIME's arm once more; "let us +get out of this--I can't breathe here." + +Scarcely had they quitted the place ere they had to encounter an +appeal for custom, the Applicant being apparently one of the big guns +in the Mercury wine trade, and he was not long in importuning _Mr. +Punch_ just to step inside his office, and sample a delicious Lafitte +of the 1874 vintage. + +"Now, try that, Sir," he said, at the same time offering _Mr. Punch_ a +glass of the rich ruby-coloured beverage, "and tell me what you think +of it. We have a small parcel of it still left, and could let you have +it at the remarkably low figure of 112s. the dozen." + +"It looks all right," drily replied _Mr. Punch_, "but I can't +think how you can sell it at the price." Then holding up the glass +critically, and turning his ring, continued, "How do you manage it?" + +"How do I manage it?" replied the unconscious merchant, laughing +heartily at the apparent joke. "Why, my dear Sir, there's not much +difficulty about that. I just make it myself. Listen to my receipt:-- + + "Potato spirit--that the 'body' finds; + And then, as for colour, + Be it brighter or duller, + You see I am supplied with several kinds, + And as to flavour, I get that desired, + By adding various poisons as required. + +[Illustration] + +Ha! ha! Let me send you in a few dozen." He offered _Mr. Punch_ an +elaborate price-list as he concluded his self-condemnatory verse with +an obsequious bow. + +"Come," said _Mr. Punch_, once more taking hold of his aged +companion's arm, without condescending to give the cheating tradesman +any reply, "come--let us get out of this. 'Pon my word, I think we've +almost had enough of Mercury!" + +"Their morality does seem to have reached rather a low ebb, I must +confess," replied Father TIME. + +"Nothing like this on our Earth, anyhow," continued _Mr. Punch_, +with a satisfied sigh of relief. "But come, we'll hear what the whole +people say of themselves. See here's a chance. I believe there's a lot +of them over there singing their National Anthem." + +They listened as _Mr. Punch_ spoke. He was right. There was a vast +crowd collected outside one of the principal buildings on the other +side of the square, and they were clearly finishing some popular +anthem in chorus, for, as Father TIME and _Mr. Punch_ paused to +listen, the well-known familiar refrain-- + + "Never, never, never, + Shall be slaves!" + +smote their ear. + +"Capital! Capital!" cried _Mr. Punch_, approaching the throng. "We'll +have that again." He turned his ring once more as he spoke, and the +mob responded by shouting their second verse. + + "Fool! Mercurius! + Of greed thy sons are slaves; + And they ever, ever, ever-- + Shall be knaves!" + +"Come," cried _Mr. Punch_, "I think that judgment of themselves out of +their own mouths settles the matter! I have done with them. Come, let +us seek some healthier place. Up we go!" + +He seized hold of Old Father TIME as he spoke, and bounded with him +upwards suddenly into space. In another minute they were in search of +a brighter, a better, and a truer world. + +[Illustration] + + * * * * * + +VISIT TO JUPITER. + +Father TIME with his glorious guide dropped gently down. They found +themselves in the centre of a bare expanse of dry, grassy country, +broken here and there by sand-hills. On their right was the sea, +dotted with ships. Parties of men in red coats, and carrying in their +hands curiously-shaped sticks, were walking about in all directions. +They all looked very earnest, some of them were gloomy, some +positively furious. Occasionally they stopped, placed themselves in an +uncouth straddle-legged attitude, whirled their sticks, looked eagerly +towards the horizon, and then marched on again as solemnly as before. +One party in particular attracted the attention of Father TIME. It +was a large, mixed gathering of men, and women, and children. They +all moved or stood at a respectful distance from the central figure, a +benevolent-looking gentleman, with a flowing white beard. He too wore +a red coat, and carried a stick. A crowd of attendants bearing more +sticks followed him. + +[Illustration] + +"Let me explain," said the Arch-Provider of Merriment to his +companion, "this ground is known as Links; the game of 'Golf' is being +played. These gentlemen are golfers. The sticks they carry are called +clubs. That bearded old gentleman is the King of Jupiter, FOOZLER THE +FIFTH. He is playing his morning round. I will introduce you." + +So saying, the King of all Clubs advanced with the Scythe-holder, and, +taking advantage of a moment when King FOOZLER, having made a long +shot, was in good humour, rapidly effected the necessary presentation. + +"I know this game well," said _Mr. Punch_. "It is said to be much +played in my own country now. Permit me to have the honour of playing +one hole against your Majesty." + +The King smiled a gracious assent. His ball had been already placed +for him on a little heap of sand about an inch high. He advanced +towards it, anxiously measured his distance, waved his club to and +fro over his ball as if in blessing, and then, swinging it through +the air, struck--nothing. The ball remained unmoved. + +"He's missit the globe," muttered one of the attendants; "I've aye +tellt him to keep his eye furrmer on the ball." + +Four times His Majesty, whose good humour was now entirely gone, +repeated the operation with similar results. At last he hurled his +club to the ground, breaking it into splinters, and addressed his +immovable ball in strong terms. + +"Allow me, Your Majesty," said _Mr. Punch_, as he stepped airily +forward and selected the king's best driver from the heap of clubs +carried by the chief caddie, "I think I know how this ought to be +done," and without a moment's hesitation he delivered his stroke. The +ball flew true and far until it was merely a speck in the air, and +finally dropped down about a quarter of a mile away. "You will find +it in the hole," said the Golfer of Golfers, carelessly turning to the +discomfited King; "Oh, my Royal and Ancient One," he continued, "there +are certain things we do better in another country, and Golf is one of +them." + +But at this moment a great commotion arose. A messenger on a foaming +steed dashed up, and handed a despatch to the king, who at once read +it. + +"Dear me!" said His Majesty, "this is most annoying. The Emperor of +BARATARIA is to arrive in half an hour. He's a bit of a young prig, +and bores me dreadfully--but we must meet him." With that he retired +at once to the nearest palace, to change his uniform. In about ten +minutes he came forth a changed man. On his head glittered an immense +helmet, with a waving plume; a tunic of gold lace was buttoned tightly +round his chest. Row upon row of stars and medals encircled him like +so many belts; his legs were hidden in an enormous pair of jack-boots, +to which were fixed a pair of huge Mexican spurs. An immense sword +dangled at his side. + +"This," said the King, as he motioned _Mr. Punch_ and Father TIME into +his state carriage, and vaulted in after them with as much agility as +his sword and boots would permit, "is the uniform of the Baratarian +Die-hards, of which regiment I am honorary Colonel." + +Thus they drove to the balloon station, at which the Imperial guest +was expected. After a few minutes, a sound of cheering was heard. + +"He's coming," observed the King. "Have I got my kissing face on?" + +_Mr. Punch_ reassured him. A moment afterwards the state-balloon +of BARATARIA soared up to the platform, and a young man, gorgeously +attired in the uniform of the Tenth (Jupiter's Own) Lancers, sprang +lightly from it. + + Loud pealed the loyal anthem, and rattled all the drums, + And, as the guard presented, the cry went up, "He comes!" + He steps upon the platform, and, while the plaudits ring, + A King hangs round an Emperor's neck, an Emperor hugs a King; + And, with impartial kisses on both cheeks duly pressed, + The guest does homage to his host, the host salutes his guest. + +The Emperor then, having shaken _Mr. Punch_ warmly by the hand, +departed with his royal host. After this, the three potentates, +_Punch_ the Only, FOOZLER THE FIFTH, and the Baratarian Emperor, +called upon one another at intervals of half an hour. This process +occupied the afternoon. + +For the evening a state-ball at the Royal Palace had been announced. +Thither, at the appointed hour, _Mr. Punch_ and his hoary associate +were conveyed. As they approached, the royal band struck up a martial +air, the Lord Chamberlain advanced to meet them, and ushered them into +the magnificent hall in which the guests were assembling. From this a +wide double staircase led up to a marble gallery. Hall, gallery, and +staircase were filled with a brilliant crowd; the men arrayed in every +variety of uniform; the ladies, to a woman, in V-shaped dresses, the +openness of which appeared to vary in a direct ratio to the age of +their wearers. + +[Illustration] + +"We will repose awhile," _Mr. Punch_ remarked to the Father, "and +scan the multitude. This, my dear Tempus, is the pick of Society. +That stout lady, with a face like a haughty turtle, is the Duchess of +DOUBLECHIN; that graceful little woman next to her is Lady ANGELINA +BATTLEAXE--she is a dress-maker." + +"A what?" inquired Father TIME. + +"A dress-maker," answered the Master, calmly. + + "In her shop, ancient notions forsaking, + The proud ANGELINA unbends; + And her figure's a tall one for making + A fit for the figures of friends. + Our cynical latter-day Catos + Are dumb when invited to dine + With a Marquis who deals in potatoes, + Or an Earl who takes orders for wine. + And, though old-fashioned folk think it funny, + It's as common as death, or as debts, + To find gentlemen making their money + Out of shops for the making of bets. + +The stout puffy old fellow there is the wealthiest man in Jupiter. +He floats mines, asteroid mines mostly, and makes it pay him. He +can command the very best society. Those ladies clustering round the +Prince-Royal come from over the ocean. Pretty, but twangy. A fresh +consignment arrives every year. And the Prince-Royal has the pick of +them." + +[Illustration] + +But before _Mr. Punch_ could finish his explanatory sketch, a +tremendous uproar was heard in the court-yard of the Palace. There +was a sound as of a huge mob shouting in unison, shots were heard, and +cries of "Liberty for Ever:" vent the air. The royal guests were in +a state of terrible agitation. An orderly covered with mud forced his +way through the crowd, up the stairs, and stood before the King. + +"Your Majesty," he panted, "a revolution has broken out. The populace +has erected barricades, the deposition of your House has been +declared, and a Republic proclaimed. The mob is now marching to the +Palace." + +The King drew himself up to his full height. Where are my Golf-clubs? +he asked in a calm voice. + +"Your Majesty, they have been seized and secreted." + +"Then all is lost. It only remains for me to depart," was the King's +heartbroken reply. "I will, in person, announce my resignation." "I +resign!" shouted the King, appearing on a balcony overlooking the +court-yard. Deafening cheers greeted this announcement. "Bless you, my +children!" sobbed the King--"I am off to the station. Take care of my +poodle, and my pet parrot." + +At this the mob unanimously burst into tears. They insisted on +accompanying the deposed monarch to the station, the popular band +playing "_The Dead March in Saul_." But the King remained calm, and +marched on without swerving. At the station he took his seat silently +in the Royal Balloon, a whistle was heard, and the car floated off +into space. + +"I cannot say I think much of all that," said _Mr. Punch_. "In +our part of the Universe we generally manage to get a little more +bloodshed out of it." + + * * * * * + +VISIT TO URANUS. + +The next place that the distinguished travellers visited was Uranus, +where _Mr. Punch_ and his companion were much surprised to find the +entire population members of the legal profession. + +[Illustration] + +"I have really no time to attend to you," said one of the inhabitants, +when questioned. "I have an appointment before a Chief Clerk in +Chancery of great importance--it is to decide whether some children +shall be sent to school with money left to them by their grandfather, +or if it shall be saved up until they come of age? It would be better +for the children that they should be educated, from a layman's point +of view; but, then, this is a matter of law and not expediency." + +"And how will it go?" + +"Oh, of course, against the children. I am their father, and appear +for them. But the application is a good thing, although it's sure to +be unsuccessful--good for them, and good for me." + +"But how can that be?" + +"You are really very dense," said the Inhabitant of Uranus. "Haven't +you noticed that the entire population is concerned in one vast +Chancery suit; consequently, on attaining majority, one man becomes +a judge, another a barrister, a third a solicitor, and so on, and so +on. Why, the place would be a perfect Paradise to your friend Mr. A. +BRIEFLESS JUNIOR! It is, at this time of day, to the interest of no +one that litigation should cease, and so the Chancery suit, in which +we are all concerned, is likely to go on for ever." + +"But, surely litigation is expensive?" suggested _Mr. Punch_. + +"I should rather think it was," returned the wig-wearer. "The Law is +a noble profession, and it is only right and proper that those who +indulge in it should pay for it. In the present instance our entire +estate will be absolutely exhausted." + +"But how will you all live?" + +"On the costs!" was the reply, as the Inhabitant of Uranus hurried +away to attend his appointment. + +"Lawyers keeping a suit alive to live upon the costs!" exclaimed _Mr. +Punch_, in tones of pained astonishment. "I never heard the like!" + +And, horrified and sorrowful, he seized Father TIME by the forelock, +and once more floated into space. + + * * * * * + +VISIT TO CASTOR. + +[Illustration] + +Father TIME shivered, and wrapped his ancient cloak more closely about +him. + +"Come, come," said _Mr. Punch_, "I understand your disgust. But there +is still something left to us in which we may take pleasure. Upon +a neighbouring star the people delight in horses. All day long they +bestride them with a courage never equalled. Swift as the wind are the +steeds, and for mere honour and glory are they matched one against +the other, and from all parts of the star the populace is gathered +together in its hundreds of thousands to applaud and to crown them +that ride the victors in the races. Let us fare thither, for the sport +is splendid, and we shall there forget the pain we have suffered here. +Indeed, it is but a short flight to Castor." + +Thus speaking, he seized the Father by his lock, and floated with +him into space. The roar of the Pollucian streets grew fainter and +fainter, the lights twinkled dimly, until at length they disappeared. +Then gradually the land loomed up above them out of a bank of clouds, +and in another moment the wandering pair stood once more on _stella +firma_. + +[Illustration] + +They had alighted on an immense grassy plain, which stretched away in +every direction, as far as the eye could reach. On every side were to +be seen men and women and children, mounted on horses. To their right +a band of youths, arrayed in coloured shirts, white linen breeches, +and yellow boots, and wearing little coloured caps, jauntily set upon +their heads, were careering wildly hither and thither on swift and +wiry ponies. They were waving in the air long sticks, fitted with a +cross block of wood at the end, and were pursuing a wooden ball. Many +were the collisions, the crashes, and the falls. On every side men +and ponies rolled over in the dust; but they rose, shook themselves +as though nothing had happened, and dashed again into the fray. Father +TIME shouted with enthusiasm. + +"Yes," said the Sage, "you do well to cheer them. They are gallant +youngsters these. The game they play is 'Polo,' and though the expense +be great, the contempt of danger and pain is also great. They play it +well, but I doubt not we could match them at Hurlingham. But see," he +added, "on our left. What rabble is that?" As he spoke a panting deer +flew past them hard pressed by a pack of yelping hounds. Close behind +came a mob of riders, two or three of them glittering in scarlet and +gold, the rest in every variety of riding-dress. + +"Behold," said the Arch-philosopher, "a Royal Sport. These are the +Castorian Buck-hounds; that elderly gentleman is their master. They +pay him L1500 a-year to provide sport for Cockneys. The sport consists +in letting a deer out of a cart and chasing him till he nearly dies +of fatigue. Then they rope him and replace him in the cart. After that +they all drain their flasks, and consider themselves sportsmen. Poor +stuff, I think." + +"Of course," said the Father, "you have nothing of that sort in +England." + +[Illustration] + +_Mr. Punch_ was about to reply when a well-appointed four-in-hand +drove up, and a courteous gentleman who handled the ribbons, offered +the two strangers seats. + +"I will take you," he remarked, "to our great national race-meeting. I +assure you it is well worth seeing." + +The offer was accepted. A pleasant drive brought them to the +race-course. To tell the truth it was much like most other +race-courses. A huge crowd was assembled, and the din of roaring +thousands filled the air. As they drove up a race had just started, +and it was pretty to see the flash of the coloured caps and jackets in +the sun. The horses came nearer and nearer. As they rounded the bend +which led into the straight run in, the excitement became almost +too great for Father TIME. A torrent of sporting phrases broke from +his lips. One after another he backed every horse on the card for +extravagant sums, and the bets were promptly, but methodically booked +by _Mr. Punch_. A handsome chestnut was leading by two good lengths, +and apparently going strong, but about a hundred yards from the post +he suddenly slowed down for some unaccountable reason. In a moment a +bay and a brown flew past him, there was a final roar and the race was +over. The bay had won, the brown was second, and the chestnut a length +behind, was only third. "Most extraordinary thing that," said the +Paternal One; "I made sure the chestnut would win." + +"That's just it," broke in the owner of the coach; "the public thought +so too, and they've lost their money." + +"Just look at the mob," he continued, "crowding round the jockey and +the owner. 'Gad, I shouldn't care to be hooted like that. But, of +course, _they've_ made their pile on it; never intended him to win. +Just sent him out for an airing. Pretty bit of roping, wasn't it?" he +continued, addressing _Mr. Punch_. + +But the Sportsman of Sportsmen only frowned. + +"In the land we come from," he rejoined, "the sport of racing is pure, +and only the most high-minded men take part in it. Their desire is not +to make money, but merely to improve the breed of British horses. I +grieve to find that here the case is otherwise. Reform the Sport, Sir; +reform it, and make it worthy of Castorian gentlemen." + +His newly-found friend only smiled. + +Then he winked as he hummed to himself the words of a song, which ran +something like this:-- + + "Come, sportsmen all, give ear to me, I'll tell you what occurred, + But of course you won't repeat it when I've told you; + For with honourable gentlemen I hope that mum's the word, + When a horse you've laid your money on has sold you. + I presume you lost your shekels, and you think it rather low, + Since you're none of you as rich as NORTH or BARING. + But another time you'll get them back by being 'in the know,' + When a favourite is started for an airing. + +"That's an odd sort of song," said _Mr. Punch_. + +"Not so odd as the subject," replied the singer. "But you have only +heard the first verse; wait till you know the second." + + "'But they didn't tell the public; it's a precious, jolly shame;' + (Such behaviour to the public seems to shock it)-- + Now if _you'd_ been placed behind the scenes you wouldn't think the same, + But put principles and winnings in your pocket. + A gent who owns a stable doesn't always think of _you_, + And he doesn't seem to fancy profit-sharing. + And you really shouldn't curse him when he manages a 'do.' + With a favourite who's only on an airing." + +Before the singer could proceed any farther, a frightful hubbub arose. +A pale, gasping wretch, rushed past, pursued by a howling, cursing mob +of ruffians. As he fled, he tripped, and fell, and in a moment they +were on the top of him, buffeting, and beating the very life out of +him. + +"That's murder," said _Mr. Punch_. "Where are the police?" + +And he was on the point of stepping down, to render assistance, when +his friend laid a hand upon his arm. + +"Oh, that's only a welsher," he said; "he's bolting with other +people's money." + +"Is it the owner of the chestnut?" inquired Father TIME. + +"Bless your heart, no," was the reply. "It's only a low-class cheat. +The owner of the chestnut is--" + +But _Mr. Punch_ had no wish to hear or see more. + +He took TIME's arm, and together they floated away into space, to land +shortly afterwards in another sphere. + + * * * * * + +VISIT TO POLLUX. + +The street in which they had descended was situated in the heart of a +great city. The roar of traffic sounded in their ears from the larger +thoroughfares close by. Most of the houses were small and mean--a +remarkable contrast to one large building, brilliantly lighted, in +front of which a mob was gathered together. A more ruffianly-looking +assemblage it would have been hard to discover. The rest of the street +was filled with hansoms, the long line of which was constantly being +augmented by fresh arrivals, whose occupants sprang out and swiftly +mounted a flight of steps leading up to the entrance of the large +building mentioned, and passed through swing-doors of glass, which +gave admission to a broad passage. In front of this house the Sage +paused, and addressed his companion. + +"Venerable One," he said, for he had become aware of a reluctance on +the part of the Lord of the Hour-Glass, "have no fear. We are now, +as you know, in the metropolis of Pollux. This is the country of +the [Greek: pux agathos], the home of the noble boxer; and this," he +added, pointing to the glittering palace, "is the headquarters, I am +informed, of the boxer's art. Let us enter, so that I may show you +how the game should really be played. I like not the crowd without. +Within we shall see something very different." + +So saying, he linked his arm in that of the Paternal One, and together +they ascended the stairs. At the top stood an official dressed in a +dark uniform, his breast adorned with medals. + +"I beg your pardon, Gentlemen," said the minion to the pair, "are you +Members?" + +_Mr. Punch_ vouchsafed no answer. He looked at the man, who quailed +under the eagle glance, and, muttering a hasty apology, drew back. +A door flew open; the Champion of Champions and his friend passed +through it. They found themselves in a spacious hall. In the centre a +square had been roped off. All round were arranged seats and benches. +In the square were four men, two of them stripped to the waist sitting +in chairs in opposite corners, while the two others were busily +engaged in fanning them with towels. The seats and benches were all +occupied by a very motley throng. + +"Aha," said _Mr. Punch_, as he made his way to the throne reserved for +him, "this is good. I have done a little bit of fighting myself in my +time. My mill with the Tutbury Boy is still remembered. One hundred +and twenty rounds, at the end of which I dropped him senseless. But +that was with the knuckles. Here they fight with gloves. But of course +they fight now for the mere honour of the thing, I presume." + +[Illustration: A PAIR OF SPECTACLES.] + +But here the heroic Muse insists on taking up the strain:-- + + The Father spake--"O skilled in men and books, + Read me this crowd, inspect them, scan their looks; + See, from their shining heads electric rays, + Reflected, sparkle in their barbers' praise. + Lo, on each bulging front's expansive white + A single jewel flames with central light; + To vacant eyes the haughty eye-glass clings, + Stiff stand their collars, though their ties have wings. + What of their faces? Bloodshot eyes that blink, + And thick lips, framed for blasphemy and drink. + Here the grey hair, that should adorn the Sage, + Serves but to mark a weak, unhonoured age; + There on the boy pale cheeks proclaim the truth, + The faded emblems of a wasted youth. + All, all are loathsome in this motley crew, + The Peer, the Snob, the Gentile, and the Jew, + Young men and old, the greybeards and the boys, + These dull professors of debauch and noise." + + * * * * * + + He ceased. The Wise One gazed in silent gloom, + While oaths and uproar hurtled through the room-- + "Hi, there, a monkey on the Pollux Pet;" + "Fifty to forty;" "Blank your eyes, no bet;" + "A level thousand on the Castor Chick;" + "Brandy for two, and, curse you, bring it quick." + While one who spake to _Punch_ rapped out an oath-- + "Who cares?" he said, "I stand to win on both. + Fair play be blowed, that's all a pack of lies, + Let fools fight fair, while _these_ cut up the prize. + Old Cock, you needn't frown; I'm in the know, + And if you don't like barneys, dash it, go!" + One blow from _Punch_ had quelled th' audacious man, + He raised his hand, when, lo, the fight began. + + "Time! time!" called one; the cornered ruffians rose, + Shook hands, squared up, then swift they rained in blows. + Feint follows feint, and whacks on whacks succeed, + Struck lips grow puffy, battered eye-brows bleed. + From simultaneous counters heads rebound, + And ruby drops are scattered on the ground. + Abraded foreheads flushing show the raw, + And fistic showers clatter on the jaw. + + * * * * * + + Now on "the mark" impinge the massive hands, + Now on the kissing-trap a crasher lands. + Blood-dripping noses lose their sense of smell, + And ribs are roasted that a crowd may yell. + Each round the other's neck the champions cling, + Then break away, and stagger round the ring. + Now panting Pollux fails, his fists move slow, + He trips, the Chicken plants a smashing blow. + The native "pug" lies spent upon the floor, + Lies for ten seconds,--and the fight is o'er. + + * * * * * + + Thunders of cheering hail th' expected end, + High in the air ecstatic hats ascend. + While frenzied peers and joyous bookies drain + Promiscuous bumpers of the Club champagne. + +But _Mr. Punch_ had seen enough. + +[Illustration] + +"Do you call this one-round job a fight?" he said, as he rose to +depart. "I call it the work of curs and cowards. Who can call these +fellows fighting-men? They are merely mop-sticks. Men were ruffianly +enough years ago in the country we have left, but they were men +at any rate. Here, they seem to be merely a pack of bloodthirsty +molly-coddles, crossed with calculating rogues. The mob outside was +better than this. But, thank Heaven, we have nothing like this in +London." + +And with that he and Father TIME walked gloomily from the hall, and +found themselves once more in the street. + + * * * * * + +"What ho! my trusty Shooting Star," cried _Mr. Punch_. Whirr-r-r-- + +And in the thousandth part of a second they found themselves within +measurable distance of TOBY's own Planet. And here _the_ Dog speaks +for himself. + + * * * * * + +[Illustration: PUNCHIUS PHOEBUS, THE GREAT UNIVERSAL HYPNOTISER. + +("_He who must be Obeyed!_") + +A TRANSFORMATION SCENE.] + + * * * * * + +VISIT TO THE DOG-STAR. + +[Illustration: THE DOG STAR] + +"Take care of the plank, Sir," I said, as my esteemed master lightly +skipped across the gangway, marshalling a well-grown youth carrying +a scythe; "we don't have many visitors here. One who looked in the +other day slipped his foot, fell over, and we've never seen him since. +Listening intently, watch in hand, we heard a slight thud, and have +reason to believe he dropped on Jupiter. It was useful to us, seeing +that, by use of a well-known formula, we were able to reckon our +precise distance from that planet. For him, I fancy, it must have +been inconvenient." + +"Are you serious, TOBY?" said _Mr. Punch_, stepping with added +caution. + +"No, Sir, _I'm_ not. This," I said, waving my hand with graceful and +comprehensive gesture around the orb where I am temporarily located, +"_this_ is Sirius." + +"Ah, I see," said _Mr. P._, glad to find himself with his foot on +our native heath; "I want to present you to an old friend, whom, I am +afraid, you have sometimes misused. TIME, this is TOBY, M.P., a humble +but faithful member of my terrestrial suite. I am showing the young +fellow round, TOBY, and we looked in on you, hearing that you had a +Parliament that should serve as a model for the firmament." + +"I am afraid," observed TIME, whittling a piece of stick with his +scythe, "that we may have looked in at a wrong season. As far as I can +judge from a consideration of the temperature, and a glance round your +landscape, we are now at Midsummer--in the dog days, if I may so put +it without offence. Of course your legislators would not be in Town +just now, sweltering at work that might as well be performed in winter +weather, when, regarded as a place of business or residence, Town has +attractions superior to those of the country." "Ah, young fellow," I +said, perhaps a little sharply, not relishing his somewhat round-about +way of putting things, "when you are as old as me or my esteemed +master, you will not be so cock-sure of things. Our Parliamentary +Session begins on the threshold of Spring; we stop in Town hard at +work, through the pleasantest months of the year; we toil through +Summer nights, see August out, and, somewhere about the first week +in September, when the days are growing short, the air is chill, and +Autumn gets ready to usher in Winter, we go off to make holiday." + +"Dear me, dear me!" cried _Mr. P._, "how very sad. How deliberately +foolish. We manage things much better than that down in our tight +little Earth. When we take that in turn, you will find, my good TIME, +that we burrow at our legislative work through the Winter months, +getting it done so as to leave us free to enjoy the country in the +prime of Spring, and amid the wealth of Summer. But come along, TOBY, +let's get on to your House." + +"It will be no use going now," said TIME, holding up his hour-glass; +"it is five o'clock; the working day is practically over, and we shall +find these sensible dogs travelling off to take a turn in the park, +or pay a round of visits in search of the culinary receptacle that +cheers, but does not intoxicate." + +[Illustration] + +"Wrong again, young Cock-sure," I said; "we shall just find our house +of Commons settling down to the business of the night. We begin about +four o'clock in the afternoon, and peg away till any hour to-morrow +morning that one or two Members please. It is true we have a rule +which enjoins the suspension of business at midnight; but instead of +suspending business we can (and do) suspend the Rule, and sometimes +sit all night." + +"Ah!" said _Mr. Punch_, gravely shaking his head, "we manage things +much better than that at Westminster." + +Got my two friends with some difficulty across Palace Yard, eyed +suspiciously by the police-dogs on duty. One concentrated his +attention on _Mr. Punch's_ dorsal peculiarity. + +"We have strict orders from the Sergeant-at-Arms," he said, "to +examine all parcels carried by strangers." + +"That's not a parcel," I said, hurriedly, and taking him on one side, +succinctly explained the personal peculiarity of my esteemed Master. +"Humph!" said the police-dog. "Exactly," I responded, and he let us +pass on, though evidently with lingering apprehension that he was +allowing a valuable clue to slip out of his hands, as it were. + +"Wait here a moment," I said, "till I get an order for your +admission." + +[Illustration] + +Absent only a few minutes; when I got back terrible commotion; _Mr. +P.'s_ friend was in the hands of the Police; they had attempted to +take his scythe from him, and he had smartly rapped one on the head +with his hour-glass. + +"I've carried it a million years," he said, swinging the scythe with +practised hand, till he made a clean sweep of the police-dogs. + +"Make it a couple of millions, whilst you are at it, young man," said +a sarcastic police-dog. + +With some difficulty calmed him; explained that no one, not even a +Member, was permitted to enter House with a scythe, or other lethal +weapon. Only exception made once a year, when Hon. Members, moving +and seconding Address, are allowed to carry property-swords, which +generally get between their legs. TIME partially mollified at last, +consented to leave scythe behind chair of door-keeper, where the late +TOM COLLINS used to secrete his gingham-umbrella. + +"It seems to me," he said, "that the public are treated in this place +worse than jackals. Hustled from pillar to post, suspected of +unnamed crimes, grudged every convenience, and generally regarded as +intolerable intruders." + +"Ah," said _Mr. P._, "we manage things much better at Westminster." + +"Order! Order!" cried an angry voice, and _Mr. P._ and his companion +were within an ace of being trundled out of the gallery, where +strangers are permitted to see and hear whatever is possible from +their position--and it is not much. + +"What are they talking about?" asked TIME, in guarded whisper, being, +by this time, completely cowed. + +"They haven't reached public business yet," I explained. "Been for +last two hours debating a private Bill, providing that the pump-handle +in the village of Plumberry shall be chained at eight o'clock at +night. The Opposition want it done at nine." + +"Well, I suppose they know all about it," said TIME. "Probably been +down to Plumberry, examined into bearing of whole question, and formed +their opinion accordingly?" + +"Nothing of the sort; some of them don't even know where Plumberry +is--never heard its name before this Pump-handle business came up. +Don't even now wait in House to hear question, debated by Members +with local knowledge. You see only twenty or thirty Members in their +places. But, when bell rings for division, four hundred will troop +in, and their vote will settle the question whether Plumberry shall be +privileged to pump water as late as nine o'clock, or whether at eight +the handle shall be chained." + +So it turned out: In House of four hundred and seventy-nine Members +Bill was read a second time by majority of twenty-three. Division +occupied twenty minutes, which, with debate, appropriated two of the +most precious hours of the sitting. + +_Mr. P._ narrowly escaped expulsion, attention being awkwardly +concentrated upon him, owing to the exuberance of his delight +in recollection of how much better these things are managed at +Westminster. + +After this, public business was approached, beginning with questions. +Of these there were a list of eighty, the large majority on +exceedingly trivial circumstances. Nine-tenths of them could have been +answered in a sentence by the Minister addressed, supposing the Member +had dropped him a private note, or crossed the floor of the House, +to speak to him. TIME openly contemptuous at such a way of doing +business, more especially when, on question which appeared on +printed paper having been answered, half-a-dozen Members sprang up +from different parts of House, and volleyed forth supplementary +interrogations. Explained to him things used to be worse when +questions were propounded _vivi voce_, and at length. + +"Now," I said, not liking _Mr. P.'s_ crowing over us, "the SPEAKER +will not allow the terms of a question to be recited. They appear on +printed paper, and are taken as read." + +"Then," queried TIME, "what are these Members putting questions +'arising,' they say, 'out of the answer just given? They don't spare a +syllable, and take up five times as much of the Sitting as Members who +put their questions on the Paper, and are not allowed to read them. +You don't mean to say that such a transparent evasion of the rule is +permitted?" + +"It looks very like it," said _Mr. P._; "but it's not at all the sort +of thing that would be permitted in our House of Commons. We make +Rules, and the Speaker sees that they are obeyed in the spirit, as +well as in the letter." + +By the time questions were over, following on the prelude of private +business, the evening was getting on. Members evidently tired out; had +crowded in to vote on the Pump-handle question; sat in serried rows +during the squabbles of question-time; and as soon as business was +actually reached, House swiftly emptied, leaving about a score of +Members. TIME more than ever distracted. _Mr. P._ increasingly perky. + +"Ho! ho!" he said, rubbing his hands, "I don't wonder at this Star +going to the Dogs. Stop till you come over to Westminster, TIME, dear +boy, and we'll show you how public business should be carried on." + +[Illustration] + +Explain to them that House is now in Committee on a Bill that had at +earlier stages occupied some months of the Session, practically the +greater portion of its working time. Now Session drawing to a close; +agreed on both sides that it is too late to conclude Bill this +Session; will be dropped after another night or two; Members knowing +this, do not think it worth while to give up more time to Bill. Next +Session it will be brought in again, and if the Government have better +luck, and get earlier stages through in less time, there will be a +chance of it passing. + +"What!" shrieked TIME, forgetting where he was, "you don't mean to say +that after devoting nearly a whole Session to a measure, laboriously +shaping it up to a certain stage, you chuck away all your work because +the Almanack says it's August? Why don't you, when you meet again +in February, take the Bill up at the stage you dropped it? Why don't +you--" + +Here our friend's observations were brought to a sudden close. TIME +was, as _Mr. P._ subsequently remarked, reduced to the status of +a half-Timer. Angry cries of "Order! Order!" broke in on his +unpremeditated speech. Two attendants, approaching him on either +flank, seized him, and led him forth under the personal direction of +the Sergeant-at-Arms. _Mr. P._, following his friend, and endeavouring +from the top of the staircase to assure him that, "we manage these +things better at Westminster," was promptly taken into custody, and +led forth beyond the precincts, a combination of circumstances that +interrupted and, indeed, as far as my friends were concerned, finally +closed what was beginning to promise to prove an agreeable and +instructive evening. + +_Business Done_.--_Mr. Punch_ and another Stranger expelled from the +Gallery, and TOBY's narrative completed. + + * * * * * + +VISIT TO VENUS. + +[Illustration] + +The two Travellers made their way through space in silence, but on a +sudden Father TIME plucked his conductor by the sleeve, and spoke. + +"Sir," he said, "I perceive in the distance a wonderful light, +and there is a sound of soft and beautiful music that attracts me +strangely. Shall we approach the light, and listen more closely to +these strains?" + +"Have patience." replied the Sage. "The light and the music come from +the planet Venus. Thither I am directing our course. In a few moments +we shall arrive." + +Even as he spoke the light grew brighter, the music of the invisible +choir swelled to a louder strain, and before the King of the Hours +had time to express his rapture, the pair had alighted in a scene of +veritable enchantment. Fairy-like structures of crystal, sparkling +with all the hues of the rainbow, rose on every side. Spires and domes +of the most fantastic but graceful design seemed to soar into the +clear and perfect air. All were bathed in a rosy glow, the source +of which was hidden. Spacious walks paved with huge blocks of opal +divided the rows of palaces. Along them grew tall and slender trees +of a curious and delicate foliage. Birds of Paradise, King Fishers +and doves flitted from branch to branch. The broadest of these avenues +ended in a sweeping flight of steps of alabaster which led to a vast +and perfectly proportioned hall, the roof of which was supported on +columns of pure jewels, diamonds, rubies, sapphires and emeralds. + +A throng of maidens, in classical attire and wearing wreaths of roses +on their heads, made their way along this avenue to where _Mr. Punch_ +and his companion were standing. Their leader, a fair and lovely girl +of seventeen, advanced to the Wise One and addressed him. + +"Sire," she sang in a low and gracious voice, "Our Queen has sent me +to say that she waits for your coming. She holds her Court in yonder +hall, and thither I am bidden to guide you. Is it your pleasure to +come at once?" + +_Mr. Punch_ signified his assent, the maiden took him by the hand, +and beckoning to Father TIME to follow, they walked slowly towards the +Royal Hall and mounted the steps. A double gate of wrought gold opened +as they reached the top, and passing through it, they found themselves +in the Court of Queen CALLISTA. A marvellous sight met their eyes. The +Queen sat on a raised throne in the midst of a throng of attendants. +She was of surpassing beauty. Her deep-blue eyes were set like jewels +beneath a broad low forehead on which a light crown of pearls and +diamonds rested. Her garments were of a soft gauzy material that half +concealed and half revealed the beautiful lines of her bust and limbs. +In one hand she held a spray of myrtle, the other rested lovingly +on the head of the magnificent hound who sat beside her, looking +trustfully into her face. The great hall was filled with beautiful +women grouped together here and there, some seated and some standing. +They were all talking. Suddenly the Queen raised her hand and +commanded silence. She then rose and thus addressed the two +visitors:-- + +"You have come from below to the Realm of Women. Here we abide as you +behold us. Age and decay hold aloof from us, and we order our lives +with wisdom and modesty. Speak, if you have aught to ask." + +"Pardon me, Madam," said Father TIME, somewhat rashly, "are we not +here on the planet Venus? and have I not somewhere heard strange tales +of what was done by ----?" + +But CALLISTA interrupted him. She smiled a beautiful smile. + +"Ah, yes," she said, "those stories are of the vanished past. Now we +blush even to think they might once have been true;" and surely enough +the whole charming assemblage became suffused with the prettiest +imaginable blush. "I will speak plainly with you," continued the +Queen; "for plain speech is best. No men live here. Therefore, we +dwell in peace. But we permit the fairest and best among our number +to descend from time to time to earth, and to dwell there in mortal +shapes for awhile. You may have seen them," she went on, mentioning +some names well known to _Mr. Punch_. "They are allowed to marry; but +only the wisest and noblest men may approach them. On earth their will +is free, and sometimes, alas, they fall away from righteousness, and +pass through bitter tribulation." + +"Yes," said the Fleet Street Sage, "We call it the Divorce Court--your +Majesty will pardon the rough speech of an old man--and, somehow, we +don't seem able to get on without it. But here, of course, you have no +such institution?" + +"No," replied the Queen. "There once was such a court among us, +hundreds of years ago, ere we had banished the men from our midst. +Now, however, we use the building in which petitions used to be heard +as our chief College. Come hither, ZOE," she proceeded, addressing +a sweet little girl of about fifteen. "Tell this wise gentleman your +solution of that pretty question relating to the concomitants of a +system of ternary quadrics." + +Without a moment's hesitation, ZOE stated the question, and, what is +more, solved it with absolute correctness. + +"Marvellous!" said _Mr. Punch_. "I congratulate you." + +"CYNTHIA," said the Queen, beckoning with her rosy fingers to +another maiden, "will you recite to me your Pindaric Ode on the late +foot-race?" + +CYNTHIA at once complied, and _Mr. Punch_ listened in amazement to +the resounding lines of an ode worthy of the great Greek. "Nor do we +confine ourselves to such accomplishments," the Queen went on. "We all +sew perfectly, our knitting is universally admired, and our classes on +the Management of Domestic Servants, or the true theory of Making Both +Ends Meet are always largely attended. Moreover, we do not neglect the +body. Some play at ball, some even form elevens for cricket, others +fence or play your Scotch game, or even lawn-tennis, and all dance +gracefully. See!" she cried, clapping her hands, "they shall show +you." + +[Illustration] + +At this signal delicious music burst forth in a strange measure, +swaying, rhythmical, and delightful. The maidens enlaced one another, +and moved across the floor in perfect time. Their bodies seemed to +float rather than tread the ground, as they passed the spell-bound +visitors. The dance ceased as suddenly as it began. + +"Your Majesty" said _Mr. Punch_, "your country is, indeed, highly +blessed, and your subjects are marvellously accomplished. You dwell +here without men, without chaperons, and you are lovely," he added, +with emotion, "beyond the power of words to express. Would that your +example could be followed upon earth!" + +And with this, he and the Father kissed the young Queen's hand, and +left the royal presence chamber. + + * * * * * + +VISIT TO SERIOCOMIX. + +"And so," said TIME, as he carefully arranged his forelock before a +mirror in the corridor, in reply to a communication recently made +to him by _Mr. Punch en route_, "and so we're to make a regular +rollicking night of it'? You insist on taking me into every Music +Hall in Seriocomix, hey, you young dog, you! Well, well, Sir, I'm not +so young as I used to be--but I'm as fond of a bit of good honest +wholesome fun as ever I was. So lead on!" + +[Illustration] + +They were in Seriocomix--a new and brilliant planet recently +discovered by _Mr. Punch_--by the aid of WELLER's patent +double-million gas-magnifying microscope (extra power). This star, +as all astronomers are by this time aware, is a howling waste of +extraordinary density, and occupied entirely by Music Halls, which +TIME, for some inexplicable reason, was desirous of visiting in _Mr. +Punch's_ company. + +_Mr. Punch_, though considerably TIME's junior, almost envied his +companion's boyish eagerness for pleasure; he was so evidently +unfamiliar with Music Halls. + +"If you are expecting to be vastly amused, Sir," _Mr. Punch_ ventured +to hint, "I am afraid you may be just a trifle disappointed." + +"Disappointed?" said TIME; "not a bit of it, Sir; not a bit of it! +Isn't a Music Hall a place of entertainment? You've plenty of them +where _you_ come from, haven't you? They wouldn't be filled night +after night, as I'm given to understand they are, if they didn't +succeed in entertaining, _would_ they, now?" + +_Mr. Punch_ felt a natural reluctance to betray the weak points of any +terrestrial institution. + +"Oh, _our_ Music Halls? they are perfection, of course," he said. "The +entertainments there are distinguished by humour of the most refined +and intellectual order. It only struck me that they mayn't be quite +the same _here_, you know, that's all." + +"We shall see, Sir, we shall see," said TIME. "I don't think I'm +particularly difficult to amuse." By this time they had entered the +dazzling hall, and, reclining on sumptuous seats, were prepared to +bestow their best attention upon the proceedings. A stout man with a +fair wig, a dyed moustache and a blue chin, occupied the stage. He was +engaged in representing a Member of the Seriocomican aristocracy with +irresistible powers of social fascination, and he wore a loose-caped +cloak over garments of closely-fitting black, which opened in front +to display a mass of crumpled white, amidst which scintillated an +enormous jewel. In his hand he held a curious black disc, with which +he beat time to a ditty, of which _Mr. Punch_ only succeeded in +catching the following refrain:-- + + "Oh, I 'ave sech a w'y with the loydies! All the dorlins upon me are gorn! + For they soy--'Yn't he noice! you can tell by his vice, + He's a toff and a gentleman born!'" + +And here the singer suddenly caused the black disc to expand with a +faint report to a cylindrical form of head-dress, which he placed upon +one side of his head, amidst thunders of approval. + +But TIME seemed rather depressed than exhilarated by this performance. + +"He ought to be kicked off the stage," he muttered. "I'd do it myself +if I was younger!" + +"You would make a mistake," said _Mr. Punch_; "he is just the person +that a Music Hall audience idolises as their highest ideal of a man +and gentleman--in Seriocomix." + +"At least," said TIME, "you wouldn't stand such an outrageous cad as +that in any of _your_ Music Halls, I hope?" + +A deeper tinge stole into _Mr. Punch's_ already highly-coloured +countenance. "Certainly not," he replied, with perhaps the slightest +suspicion of a gulp. "Our 'Lion Comiques' are without exception, +persons of culture and education, and, if they sing of love at all, it +is only to treat the subject in a chaste and chivalrous spirit. They +are worthy examples to all young people who are privileged to listen +to their teachings." + +"I wish you could send one or two out to Seriocomix, then, as +missionaries," said TIME. + +"I wish we could send them _all_," rejoined _Mr. Punch_, feelingly, +and they went on to another Music Hall. Here TIME had no sooner +perceived the artist who was upon the stage than he exclaimed +indignantly, "Disgraceful, Sir. This man is in no condition to +entertain a respectable audience--he is _intoxicated_, Sir--look at +his _tie_!" + +"I think not," said _Mr. Punch_, after observing him attentively +through his opera-glass; "he merely affects to be so because the +point and humour of the song depend on it. But he has evidently forced +himself to make a close study of the symptoms, or he could hardly have +produced so marvellous an imitation. Art does demand these sacrifices. +You will observe that he represents another Music-Hall ideal--the hero +who can absorb the largest known quantity of ardent spirits, and whose +prowess has earned for him the proud title of the Boozer King." + +It was a spirited chorus, and the accomplished vocalist reeled in +quite a natural manner as he chanted:-- + + "So every pub I enter, boys, + With welcome the room will ring; + Make room for him, there, in the centre, boys! + For he is the Boozer King! + Yes, give him a seat in the centre, boys. + Three cheers for our Boozer King!" + +[Illustration] + +But TIME's worn features exhibited nothing but the strongest disgust. + +"Is it possible," he exclaimed, "that this sort of thing can be +considered amusing anywhere!" + +"It is considered extremely facetious," said _Mr. Punch_--"in +Seriocomix." + +"What would they think of such a--such an apotheosis of degradation +in one of your Music Halls at home, eh?" demanded TIME. + +Privately, _Mr. Punch_ was of opinion that it would not be at all +unpopular. However, he was not going to admit this:-- + +[Illustration] + +"It would be hissed off the stage," he said, courageously. "The +fact is, that our Eccentric Vocalists have always shrunk from the +responsibility of presenting a national vice under an attractive +light, and so such exhibitions are absolutely unknown among us." + +"I respect them for their scruples," said TIME; "they have their +reward in a clear conscience," "No doubt," said _Mr. Punch_. "Shall we +go on?" And as TIME had had enough of the Boozer King, they went on, +and entered the next hall, just as a remarkably pretty young girl, +with an innocent rosebud mouth and saucy bright eyes like a bird's, +tripped daintily on to the platform. + +"Come," said TIME, with more approval than he had yet shown, "this is +better--_much_ better. We need feel no shame is listening to _this_ +young lady, at all events. What is she going to give us? Some tender +little love-ditty, I'll be bound?" + +She sang of love, certainly, though she treated the subject from +rather an advanced point of view, and this was the song she sang:-- + + "True love--you tyke the tip from me--'s all blooming tommy-rot! + And the only test we go by is--'ow much a man has got? + So none of you need now despair a girlish 'art to mash,-- + So long as you're provided with the necessairy cash!" + +And the chorus was:-- + + "You may be an 'owling cad; + Or be gowing to the bad; + Or a hoary centenarian, or empty-headed lad; + Or the merest trifle mad-- + If there's rhino to be had, + Why, a modern girl will tyke you--yes, and only be too glad!" + +As she carolled out this charming ditty in her thin high voice, TIME +positively shivered in his stall, "Are _all_ the girls like that in +Seriocomix?" he moaned. "I trust not." + +"It seems the fashion to assume so here, at any rate," said _Mr. +Punch_, not without a hazy recollection of having heard very similar +sentiments in Music Halls much nearer home than Seriocomix. "The young +woman is probably an authority on the subject. Are you off already?" + +"Yes," said TIME, as he made for the exit. "I think she is going to +sing again presently. Come along!" + +At the next Music Hall they were just in time to hear the announcement +of a new Patriotic Song, and old TIME, who had in his day seen great +and noble deeds accomplished by men who loved and were proud of their +Fatherland, was disposed to congratulate both himself and the audience +on the choice of topic. + +Only, as the song went on, he seemed dissatisfied somehow, as if he +had expected some loftier and more exalted strain. And yet it was a +high-spirited song, too, and told the Seriocomicans what fine fellows +they were, and how naturally superior to the inhabitants of all other +planets, while the chorus ran as follows:-- + + "Yes, we never stand a foreigner's dictation! + No matter if we're wrong or if we're right; + We're a breed of good old bulldogs as a nation, + And we never stop to bark before we bite!" + +And then the singer, a fat-necked man, in a kind of military uniform, +drew a sword and struck an attitude, amidst red fire, which aroused +vociferous enthusiasm. + +TIME seemed to be getting restless again, so they moved on once. more, +and presently entered a hall where they found a stout lady with a +powdered face and extremely short skirts, about to sing a pathetic +song, which had been expressly written to suit her talents. + +She began in a quavering treble that was instinct with intense +feeling:-- + + "Under the dysies to rest I have lyed him; + My little cock-sparrer so fythful and tyme! + And the duckweed he loved so is blooming besoide him, + But I clean out his cyge every d'y just the syme! + For it brings him before me so sorcy and sproightly, + As with seed and fresh water his glorsis I fill: + Though the poor little tyle which he waggled so lytely + Loys under the dysies all stiffened and still!" + +--And then, to a subdued _obbligato_ upon a bird-whistle, came the +touching refrain: + + "Yes, I hear him singing 'Tweet,' so melodious and sweet! + Till his shadder comes and flits about the room. 'Tweet-tweet-tweet!' + All my sorrer I forget. For I have the forncy yet, + That he twitters while he's loyin' in his tomb--'Tweet-tweet!' + Yes, he twitters to me softly from his tomb!" + +_Mr. Punch_ observed his elder attentively during this plaintive +ditty, but there was no discernible moisture in TIME's hard old eyes, +though among the rest of the audience noses were being freely blown. + +"Well," he said, "it may be very touching and even elevating, for +anything I know--but it's not my notion of cheerful entertainment. I'm +off!" + +"I should like," said TIME, rather wistfully, as they proceeded +to visit yet another establishment, "yes, I _should_ like to hear +something _comic_ before the evening is over." + +"Now is your opportunity, then," said _Mr. Punch_, taking his seat and +inspecting the programme, "for I observe that the gentleman who is to +appear next is described as a 'Mastodon Mirth-moving Mome.'" + +"And does that mean that he is funny?" inquired TIME, hopefully. + +"If it doesn't, I don't know what it _does_ mean," replied _Mr. +Punch_, as the Mastodon entered. + +His mere appearance was calculated to provoke--and did provoke--roars +of laughter, though TIME only gazed the more sadly at him. He had +coarse black hair falling about his ears, a white face, and a crimson +nose; he wore a suit of dingy plaid, a battered hat, and long-fingered +thread gloves. And he sang, very slowly and dolefully, this +side-splitting ballad:-- + + "We met at the corner, Marire and me. + Quite permiscuous! Who'd ha' thought of it? + She took and invited me 'ome to tea; + Quite permiscuous! Who'd ha' thought of it? + I sat in the parler along with her, + Tucking into the eggs and the bread and but-ter,-- + When in come her Par with the kitching po-ker! + _Quite_ permiscuous! _Who'd_ ha' thought of it?" + +There was a chorus, of course:-- + + "Quite permiscuous! Who'd ha' thought of it? + Who can guess what's going to be! + Whatever you fancy'll fall far short of it. + That's the way things 'appen with me!" + +It seemed that this was the first occasion on which the audience had +had the privilege of hearing this chaste and simple production, and +nothing could exceed their frantic delight--the song was rapturously +re-demanded again and again. Tears stood in TIME's eyes, but they were +not the tears of excessive mirth; it was almost incredible--but the +"Mastodon Mome" had only succeeded in rendering his depression more +acute. + +"A melancholy performance that," he said, shaking his head, "a sorry +piece of vulgar buffoonery, Sir!" + +"Aren't you rather severe, Sir?" remonstrated _Mr. Punch_; "the song +is an immense hit--it has, as they say on this planet, 'knocked them;' +from henceforth that vocalist's fortune is made; he will receive the +income of a Cabinet Minister, and his fame will spread from planet +to planet. Why, to-morrow, Sir, that commonplace phrase, '_Quite +permiscuous! Who'd ha' thought of it_?' will be upon the lips of every +inhabitant; it will receive brevet-rank as a witticism of the first +order, it will enrich the language, and enjoy an immortality, which +will endure--ah, till the introduction of a newer catchword! I assure +you the most successful book--the wittiest comedy, the divinest +poem, have never won for their authors the immediate and sensational +reputation which this singer has obtained at a bound with a few +doggerel verses and an ungrammatical refrain. Isn't there genius in +_that_, Sir?" + +[Illustration] + +"Ah!" said TIME, "I'm old-fashioned, I daresay. I'm no longer in the +movement. I might have been amused once by the story of a clandestine +tea-party and an outraged parent with a poker; I don't know. All I +_do_ know is, that I find it rather dreary at present. We'll drop in +at just one or two more places, Sir, and then go quietly home to bed, +eh?" They entered a few more Music Halls, and found the entertainment +at each pretty much alike; now and then, instead of songs about +mothers-in-law, domestic disagreements, and current scandals, they +were entertained by the spectacle of acrobats going through horrible +contortions, or women and little children performing feats high up +aloft to the imminent peril of life and limb. + +"With _us_," said _Mr. Punch_, complacently, "there is a net stretched +below the performers." + +"An excellent arrangement," said TIME; "and I suppose, if they _did_ +happen to fall--" + +"The spectators underneath would be to some extent protected," said +_Mr. Punch_. + +Then there were ballets, so glittering and gorgeous and interminable, +that poor old TIME dropped asleep more than once, in spite of the din +of the orchestra. At last, although several other places remained +to be visited, he broke down altogether. "To tell you the truth," he +said, "I've had about enough of it. At my age, Sir, the pursuit of +this sort of amusement is rather hard work. I'll do no more Music +Halls on this planet. But I tell you what I _will_ do. After all this +I want a little rational amusement. I want to be cheered up. Now when +will you take me round _your_ Music Halls, eh? Any evening will suit +me--shall we say Boxing Night?" + +"_Not if I know it!_" was _Mr. Punch's_ internal reflection--but all +he said was, "'Boxing Night?' let me see, I'm going _somewhere_ on +Boxing Night, I know. Well, I'll look up my engagements when I get +home, and drop you a line." + +"Do," said TIME--"mind you don't forget. I am sure we shall have +capital fun." + +"Oh, capital," replied _Mr. Punch_, hurriedly--"capital--but now for +(excuse the paradox) the Land of the Sea." + +And so again they started. But _Mr. Punch's_ presentiment will turn +out to be quite correct. He _will_ be unfortunately engaged on Boxing +Night, and so his tour of the terrestrial Music Halls with TIME will +be postponed _sine die_. + + * * * * * + +VISIT TO NEPTUNE. + +[Illustration] + +In a very short time the two august travellers found themselves in +Neptune. To their surprise they learned that the planet consisted +entirely of land. They were met by one of the inhabitants in full +naval uniform, who heartily greeted them, promising to show them +everything his country contained. + +"The only thing that must for the present be unexhibited is the sea," +he concluded. "Truth to speak, we have lost sight of it, and the +disappearance has caused considerable inconvenience." + +_Mr. Punch_ condoled with the son of Neptune, and asked what were the +chief amusements in the planet. + +"Well, badgering the Engineers is considered excellent +sport--especially just now when their services are not absolutely +required. We snub them and underpay them, we refuse them the rank due +to them, and lead them a generally happy life! Nothing of that sort of +thing down below, I suppose?" + +_Mr. Punch_ at the moment this question was put was probably thinking +of something else--at any rate he gave no answer. + +[Illustration] + +"But this is about the best thing we have here," continued the +Resident, pointing to a scene recalling the traditional pictures of +Greenwich Fair, "the Royal Naval Exhibition. You see we have pictures +and models and fireworks. Everything connected with the Navy inclusive +of ladies' foot-ball." + +"Ladies' foot-ball," echoed _Mr. Punch_, "why what has that to do with +matters nautical?" + +"Pardon me, _Mr. Punch_," returned the Resident in a tone of +impatience, "but to-day you are certainly dense. Ladies' foot-ball is +entirely nautical. Are not the ladies, as they play it, quite at sea?" + +The Sage of Fleet Street bowed, and admitted that second thoughts were +best. + +"And now you must really excuse me," continued the Resident, "for it +is my duty, as a director of the Royal Naval Exhibition to start the +donkey races. I suppose you have had nothing like our Exhibition down +below?" + +"Nothing," returned the Sage. + +[Illustration] + +"So I thought," was the reply. "If you have time, you can call upon +the Admiral Survival of the Fittest." + +"Gentlemen," said that illustrious official, after they had entered +his bureau, "it is usual to salute me by tugging at your forelocks +and scraping the deck with your right feet. While you perform this +operation, you will notice that I will hitch up my trousers in true +nautical style." + +"Oh, certainly," returned _Mr. Punch_, "Delighted! But, Admiral, isn't +that sort of thing a little old-fashioned?" + +"And what of that, Sir? In spite of everything _we_ still have hearts +of oak. We have _not_ changed since the time of NELSON and Trafalgar. +We can still run up the rigging (there isn't any but that is an +unimportant detail) like kittens, and reef a sail (there's not one +left, but what does _that_ matter?) in a Nor-Wester as our ancestors +did before us. And if you don't believe me, go to any public dinner +when response is being made for the Navy." + +"But if the ships have changed, would it not be better if the crews +had undergone an appropriate transformation?" + +"We don't think so. But, there, it's no use palavering. Some day the +matter will be put to the test?" + +"By a war?" + +"No; by the Fleet starting for a cruise in calm weather. Some say we +should all go to the bottom. But I am talking of the Planet Neptune. +On your little Earth, I suppose, things are _very_ different?" + +"Very," replied _Mr. Punch_. "_We_ have the Admiralty!" + +And considering this an appropriate moment for departure, the Sage and +his Venerable Companion floated amongst the stars. + + * * * * * + +[Illustration: AMONG THE DRAMATIC AND OPERATIC STARS. + +AIRY FAIRY LILIAN. + +KING ARTHUR. + +THE ONLY ADELINA. + +OUR ELLEN. + +OUR HENRY. + +THE GRASSHOPERATIC STAR. + +THE SOCIETY CLOWN. + +"O.K." + +OUR JOHNNIE.] + + * * * * * + +ARTISTIC STARS. + +[Illustration] + +"It's wonderful!" exclaimed TIME. "We haven't got anything like this +on Earth." + +"Plenty more where they come from," said his Guide Philosopher and +Friend; "but now just give me a lock of your hair, and I'll stand you +a fly through the artistic quarter." + +And Mr. PUNCH, like Beauty, "drawing him with a single hair," carried +the Ancient Wanderer along with him, past galaxies of talent, +musical, dramatic, and operatic, refusing to stop and gratify the old +Gentleman's pardonable curiosity. + +"I know I've got Time for it all," quoth the flying Sage, "but I +haven't space, that's where the difficulty is. As for Literary Stars, +from TENNYSON and SWINBURNE, to LANG, STEVENSON, BLACK, BESANT, and +our excellent friend, Miss BRADDON, with other novelists too numerous +to mention, we must leave our cards on them, pay a flying visit, and +just skirt the artistic quarter." + +"There's the President!" exclaimed Old TIME. + +"Ah! everyone knows _him_," said _Mr. Punch_--"artist and orator, and +ever a Grand Young Man, the flower of the Royal Academy." + +"Sir JOHN, too," cried TIME. + +"As fresh as his own paint is our MILLAIS," returned _Mr. Punch_. +"But 'on we goes again,' as the showman said, and you can pick out +for yourself the +Artist-Operatic-Composer-Painter-Etcher-Fellow-of-All-Souls, and +master of a variety of other accomplishments, yclept HUBERT HERKOMER; +then the gay and gallant FILDES, the chiseler BOEHME, the big PETTIE, +the Flying, not the Soaring, Dutchman, TADEMA, the always-purchased +BOUGHT'UN, the gay dog POYNTER, Cavalier Sir JOHN GILBERT, and the +chivalric DON CALDERON! There's a galaxy for you, my boy! Can you +touch these on Earth?" + +"Well," said TIME, slowly scratching the tip of his nose, "I fancy +I've heard of 'all the talents' before. Besides these, there are a few +more who are celebrated in black and white--" + +"Rather!" cried _Mr. Punch_, enthusiastically. "My own dear boys, with +JOHN TENNIEL at their head. But they're all so busy just now that I +couldn't take up their time." + +"But you're taking _me_ up," observed the aged T., slily. + +"Quite so," returned his guide--who if, _per impossibile_, he ever +_could_ be old, would be "_the_ aged P.,"--and then giving another +tug at his companion's forelock, he cried, "On we goes again! We'll be +invisible for awhile, and I'll show you our 'ARRY in the clouds. You +remember IXION in Heaven, or as 'ARRY would call him, IXION in 'Eaven. +Now see 'ARRY dreamin' o' Goddesses. Here we go Up! Up! Up!" + +And what happened is told by 'ARRY in the following letter. + +[Illustration: "PHYLLIS IS MY ONLY JOY!" + +QUEEN OF SONG. + +THE JERSEY LILY.] + + * * * * * + +'ARRY'S VISIT TO THE MOON. + + Dear CHARLIE,--I've bin on the scoop, and no error this time, my + dear boy! + I must tell yer my rounds; it's a barney I know you are bound to + enjoy. + Talk of _Zadkiel's Halmanack_, CHARLIE, JOHN KEATS, or the _Man + in the Moon_-- + Yah! I've cut all _their_ records as clean as a comet would lick + a balloon. + + 'ARRY ain't no Astronomer, leastways I ain't never made it my mark + To go nap on star-gazing; I've mostly got other good biz arter dark. + But when _Mister Punch_ give me the tip 'ow he'd take poor old + TIME on the fly, + Wy I tumbled to it like a shot; 'ARRY's bound to be in it, sez I. + + So I took on the Lockyers and Procters, and mugged up the planets + and stars. + With their gods and their goddesses, likeways their thunderbolts, + tridents and cars. + I jogged on with old Jupiter, CHARLIE, and gave young Apoller + a turn, + While as to DIANNER!--but there, that is jest wot you're going + to learn. + + It wos dry and a little bit dazing, this cram, and you won't + think it's odd + If yours truly got doosedly drowsy. In fact I wos napped on + the nod, + But the way I got woke wos a wunner. Oh! CHARLIE, my precious + old pal, + If you'd know wot's fair yum-yum, 'ook on to a genuine celestial + gal. + + "_Smack!_" "Hillo!" sez I, starting sudden, "where ham I, and + wot's this 'ere game?" + Then a pair o' blue eyes looked in mine with a lime-lighty sort of + a flame, + As made me feel moony immediate. "Great Pompey," thinks I, "here's + a spree! + It's DIANNER by all that is proper, and as for Enjimmyun--that's + _Me_!" + + [Illustration] + + For I see a young person in--well, I ain't much up in classical + togs, + But she called it a "chlamys," I think. She'd a bow, and a couple + of dogs, + "Rayther forward and sportive young party," thinks I, Sandown-Parky + in style; + But pooty, and larky no doubt, so I tips her a wink and a smile. + + "All right, Miss DIANNER," sez I. "You 'ave won 'em--the gloves--and + no kid. + Wot size, Miss, and 'ow many buttons?" But she never lowered a lid, + And the red on her cheeks warn't no blush but a reglar indignant + flare-up, + Whilst the look from her proud pair of lamps 'it as 'ard and as + straight as a Krupp. + + Brought me sharp to my bearings, I tell yer. "Young mortal," she sez, + "it is plain + An Enjimmyun is not to be found in the purlieus of Chancery Lane. + And that Primrose 'Ill isn't a Latmos. The things you call gloves I + don't wear, + Only buskins. But don't you be rude, or the fate of Actaeon you'll + share." + + I wosn't quite fly to her patter, but "mortal" might jest 'ave bin + "cub," + From the high-perlite way she pernounced it, and plainly DIANNER + meant "snub." + Struck me moony, her manner, did CHARLIE, she hypnertised me with + her looks, + And the next thing I knowed I was padding the 'oof in a region of + spooks. + + Spooks, is bogies and ghostesses, CHARLIE, according to latter-day + chat,-- + And the place where DIANNER conveyed, me _was_ spooky, and spectral + at that. + "Where _are_ we, Miss, if I _may_ arsk?" I sez, orfully 'umbl for me. + Then she turns 'er two lamps on me sparkling. "Of course we're in + Limbo," sez she. + + Didn't quite like the lay on it, CHARLIE, for Limbo sounds precious + like quod: + But _she_ meant Lunar Limbo, dear boy, sort o' store-room, where + everythink odd, + Out of date, foolish, faddy, and sech like, is kept like old curio + stock. + (Ef yer want to know more about Limbo, read Mr. POPE's _Rape of the + Lock_.) + + "So this 'ere is the Moon, Miss!" sez I. "Where's the Man there's + sech talk on downstairs?" + She looked at me 'orty. Thinks I, "You're a 'ot 'un to give yourself + hairs. + I may level you down a bit later: The Man in the Moon, Miss," I adds. + Sez she, "We don't 'ave Men up here; they are most of them tyrants or + cads!" + + "Oh," sez I, "on the MONA CAIRD lay, eh, my lady?" Jest then, mate, I + looks + And sees male-looking things by the dozen: but then they turned out + to be spooks. + There was TOLSTOI the Rooshian romancer, a grim-looking son of a gun, + Welting into young Cupid like scissors, and wallopping Hymen like fun. + + [Illustration] + + Old Hymen looked 'orrified rayther; but as for young Arrers-and-'Arts, + _He_ turned up his nose at the old 'un, whilst all the gay donas and + tarts, + Not to mention the matronly mivvies, were arter the boy with the bow, + Plainly looking on TOLSTOI and IBSEN as crackpots, and not in the know. + + "Queer paper, my dear Miss DIANNER," sez I, "wot do _you_ think?" Sez + she, + "A mere Vision of Vanities, mortal, of no speshal interest to me. + _I_ am not the keeper of Limbo, although it is found in my sphere. + Everything that's absurd and unnatural claims a clear right to come + _here_. + + "See, the latest Art-Hobbies are ambling about with their 'eads in the + air, + And their riders are tilting like true toothpick paladins. SMUDGE over + there + Makes a bee-line for SCRATCH in this corner, whilst MUCK and the + Mawkish at odds, + Clash wildly, and Naturalism pink Sentiment painfully prods." + + Then I twigged Penny WHISTLER's white plume, and the haddypose HOSCAR + upreared, + His big hairy horryflame, CHARLIE, whilst Phillistines looked on and + jeered. + I see Nature, as Narstiness, ramping at wot Nambypamby dubbed Nice, + And Twoddle parading as Virtue, and Silliness playing at Vice. + + Here was pooty girls Primrosing madly, and spiling their tempers a lump, + By telling absurd taradiddles for some big political pump; + +[Illustration] + + And there wos 'ard-mouthed middle-aged 'uns a shaking the Socherlist + flag, + And a ramping like tiger-cats tipsy around a rediklus red rag. + +[Illustration] + + There wos patriots playing the clown, there was magistrates playing the + fool; + There wos jugginses teaching the trombone to kids at a bloomin' Board + School. + "This is Free Hedgercation in Shindy," sez I. "They're as mad as March + hares, + All these Limboites, dear Miss DIANNER. We do it _much_ better + downstairs!" + + She smiled kinder scoffish, I fancied, and give 'er white shoulders a + hunch. + Says she; "I've no comments to make. It's along of my friend _Mr. Punch_ + Whom the whole Solar System obeys, and the Court of Olympus respects, + That I wait on you 'ere, Mister ARRY. Pray what would you like to see + next?" + + "Well," sez I, with a glance at her gaiters, "I've heard you're a whale, + Miss, at Sport. + Do you 'know anythink' wuth my notice?" She gave me a look of a sort, + As I can't put in words, not exactly, a sort o' cold _scorch_, + dontcherknow. + That's a bit of a parrydocks p'raps; anyhow, it hurt wus than a blow. + + But we went on the fly once agen--can't say 'ow it wos managed, but soon + We 'ad passed to a rum-looking region--the opposite side of the Moon, + Where no mortal afore had set foot, nor yet eyes, Miss DIANNER declared. + "Here's a Region of Sport!" sez the lady. Good Gracechurch Street, mate, + 'ow I stared! + + Seemed a sort of a blend-like of Hepsom, and Goodwood, and Altcar, mixed + up + With the old Epping 'Unt and new Hurlingham, thoughts of the Waterloo Cup, + Swell Polo and Pigeon-match tumbled about in my mind, while the din + Was like Putney Reach piled on a Prizefight, with Kennington Oval chucked + in. + + There wos toffs, fair top new 'uns, mixed hup with the welcher, the froth + with the scum; + There wos duchesses, proud as DIANNER, and she-things as sniffed of the slum; + There was "champions" thick as bluebottles, and plungers as plenty as peas, + With stoney-brokes, pale as a poultice, and "crocks," orful gone at the knees; + + I see a whole howling mix-up of "mug" booky, dog-owner and rough, + A-watching of snaky-shaped hounds pelting 'ard 'after bits o' brown fluff, + I see--and the Sportsman within me began for to bubble and burn, + And I yelled, "O my hazure-horbed Mistress, can't you and me 'ave jest + a turn?" + + We _did_, and my "Purdey Extractor" made play, though it ain't me to brag, + But somehow her arrers went straighter, and 'ers wos the heaviest bag. + "Let _me_ 'ave a try, Miss," sez I, "with that trifle from Lowther Arcade!" + I tried, and hit one of her dogs, as she didn't think sport I'm afraid. + + The 'ound didn't seem much to mind it; immortal, I spose, like Miss D.; + Then we 'ad a slap arter the deer, and she'd very soon nailed two or three. + _I_ wos out of it, couldn't pot one, and it needled me orful, dear boy, + To be licked by a gal, _though_ a goddess, and armed with a archery toy! + + Her togs wos a little bit quisby--for moors as ain't pitched in the Moon, + And _there wasn't no pic-nic, dear boy!_ I got peckish and parched pooty + soon. + _She_ lapped from a brook, and her hoptics went wide as a cop on the watch, + When I hinted around rayther square, _I_ should like a small drop of cold + Scotch. + + Well, well; I must cut this yarn short. We'd a turn at Moon Sports like all + round, + Wish I'd time to describe our Big Boar Hunt--DIANNER's pet pastime I found, + Can't say it was _mine_; bit too risky. Pigsticking in Ingy may suit + White Shikkarries or Princes, dear boy, but yer Boar is a nasty big brute. + + Too much tusk for my taste! 'Owsomever DIANNER she speared him to rights, + And I dropped from the tree I'd shinned up when the boar had made tracks + for my tights. + "Bravo, Miss DIANNER!" I sez. "You are smart, for a gal, with that spear. + But didn't yer get jest a mossel alarmed--fur yer 'ARRY, my dear?" + + Put it hamorous like, with a wink, snugging up to the lady, I did; + For she'd found a weak spot in my 'art, this cold classical gal, and no kid. + I'd been 'aving a pull at my flask, up that tree, and her pluck and blue eyes + Made me feel a bit spoony; in fact I was mashed. But, O wot a surprise! + + "Alarmed? about _you_, Sir! And _why_?" sez DIANNER, with eyes all aflash, + I sez, "Don't yer remember Adonis, love, Venus's boar-'unting mash? + No wonder the lady felt fainty like; fear for a sweetheart, yer see. + And--well, if I'm not quite Adonis, _you found your Enjimmyun_ in _Me_! + +[Illustration] + + "One more, only one, dear DIANNER," I sez. And I aimed for a kiss, + I made for her lips, a bee-line. But great snakes, my dear boy, wot a miss! + Hit me over the 'ed with her boar-spear, a spanker, she did, like a shot. + Don't you never spoon goddesses, CHARLIE; you'll find it a dashed sight + too 'ot! + + "Adonis!" she cried. "Nay, Actaeon! And his shall be also thy fate. + There is _Punch_ looking on, he'll approve!" And she jest set 'er dogs + on me, straight! + "Way-oh! Miss DIANNER!" I yells. "No offence! Don't be 'ard on a bloke! + Beg yer pardon, I'm sure!" Here a hound nipped my calf like a vice, + and--I woke. + + Leastways, I persoom it _wos_ waking, if 'tother was sleep and a dream, + But I feel a bit moon-struck, dear boy. Spooks abound, and things ain't + what they seem. + _Mister Punch_ sez, "it served me quite right." Well, next time + correspondence he'd carry + With satterlites, spesh'ly the Moon, he had better not drop upon 'ARRY. + +"Poor fellow, I pity him," said _Mr. Punch_ to Father TIME, as +the pair passed away from the Lunar precincts together, bowing +courteously, and a little apologetically, to 'ARRY's late hostess, +who called off her dogs, and affably responded to their parting +salutation. "Fact is," pursued the Sage, "my young friend 'ARRY, +though smart and _fin de siecle_, in his way, is a little of 'the +earth, earthy,' and lacks both the adventurousness and the tact of +an Ixion." + +"I presume," said the Scythe-bearer, "our inter-planetary +peregrinations are now pretty nearly at an end--for this time?" + +"We have yet one more visit to pay," said _Mr. Punch_. + +At this moment, as the space-pervading trio fleeted forward, a strange +unusual effulgence grew to the eastward, and began to bathe them in +golden light. Miraculously metamorphic was its action upon the aerial +travellers. _Mr. Punch_ flung aside his hat and his "Immensikoff," +and appeared as the Apollo-like personage he really is. TOBY's wings +expanded, and his pace mended. As for "Old Father TIME" himself, the +combined influence of the regenerating philtre in _Faust_, and the +fire-bath in _She_, could not more completely have transmogrified +him. His face brightened with youthfulness, his solitary forelock +bushed out into a wavy and hyacinthine hirsute crop, his ancient and +magician-like garments fell from him, his plumes expanded, until he +looked more like "the herald Mercury" than old Edax Rerum. + + Then they swung, as on airy _trapeze_, or on wings of the thunder-bird + strong, + With the sound in their ears of the voice of the starry and sisterly + throng. + Did the orbs of splendiferous Sol give a wink as they ranged into + reach? + Was his genial mouth all alight with the flame of the friendliest + speech? + Hey, Presto! Great Scott! Transformation on DRURIOLANUS's stage + Was never so sudden as this! Who rides there as the Sun-God? The Sage! + The Great Hypnotiser! Utopia's lord! He Who Must Be Obeyed! + He whose Magical Spell is on Princes and Peoples, on Art and on Trade. + _Houp-la!_ Transformation tremendous! The round of the Planets we've + travelled, + Some curious secrets unveiled, and some mysteries mighty unravelled. + _We manage things better on Earth!_ That's the formula! Sounds it + sardonic? + Was _Punch_ just a morsel sarcastic, his hosts just a trifle ironic? + At any rate, _Punch_ here explains to the World how to manage things + better, + By purging Humanity's spirit, and snapping Hate's tyrannous fetter. + He'd Hypnotise Man into health, both of body and spirit, and out of + The follies, and vices, and greeds, and conceits. See the whole + Comus-rout of + Absurdities, Appetites, Antics, Antipathies, personal, national, + Driven before his bright Sun-Car! The Rule of the Rosily Rational + He would inaugurate, making Earth's atmosphere healthy as Thanet's, + _That_ Father TIME, is his aim; _that's_ the Moral of _Punch_ and the + Planets! + +[Illustration] + + + + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Punch Among the Planets, by Various + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PUNCH AMONG THE PLANETS *** + +***** This file should be named 13244.txt or 13244.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/1/3/2/4/13244/ + +Produced by Malcolm Farmer, William Flis, and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team. + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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