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diff --git a/old/13491.txt b/old/13491.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..cd6c192 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/13491.txt @@ -0,0 +1,1589 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Punch, or The London Charivari, Vol. 101, +August 15, 1891, by Various + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Punch, or The London Charivari, Vol. 101, August 15, 1891 + +Author: Various + +Release Date: September 18, 2004 [EBook #13491] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PUNCH *** + + + + +Produced by Malcolm Farmer, William Flis, and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team + + + + + +PUNCH, + +OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. + +VOL. 101. + + + +August 15, 1891. + + + + +A TERRIBLE TALE. + +[Illustration] + + Alas! it had of course to be! + For weeks I had not left my room, + When one fell day there came on me + An awful doom. + + A burly rough, who drank and swore, + Without a word--I could not shout-- + Attacked me brutally, and tore + My nails right out. + + Then, dragging me out to the air-- + No well-conducted conscience pricked him-- + He mercilessly beat me there, + His helpless victim. + + With cruel zest he beat me well, + He beat me till in parts I grew-- + I shudder as the tale I tell-- + All black and blue. + + But what on earth he was about, + I could not guess, do what I would; + But when at length he cleaned me out + I understood. + + Yet do not shed a tear, because + You've heard my story told in metre, + For I'm a Carpet, and he was + A Carpet-Beater. + + * * * * * + +LEAVES FROM A CANDIDATE'S DIARY. + +_Thursday, June 12_.--Letters from Billsbury arrive by every post, +Horticultural Societies, sea-side excursions, Sunday School pic-nics, +cricket club _fetes_, all demand subscriptions, and, as a rule, +get them. If this goes on much longer I shall be wound up in the +Bankruptcy Court. Shall have to make a stand soon, but how to begin is +the difficulty. Pretty certain in any case to put my foot down in the +wrong place, and offend everybody. Amongst other letters came this +one:-- + + _4, Stone Street, Billsbury, June 10._ + +[Illustration: "I will give any security you like."] + +Sir,--I venture to appeal to your generosity in a matter which I am +sure you will recognise to be of the highest importance. My services +to the Conservative Party in Billsbury are well-known. I can safely +say that no man has, during the last ten years, worked harder than I +have to promote Conservative interests, and for a smaller reward. My +exertions at the last election brought on a violent attack of malarial +fever, which laid me up for some months, and from which I still +suffer. The shaky character of my hand-writing attests the sufferings +I have gone through, and the shattered condition of my bodily health +at the present moment. I lost my situation as head-clerk in the Export +Department of the Ironmongers' Association, and found myself, at the +age of forty, compelled to begin life again with a wife and three +children. Everything I have turned my hand to has failed, and I am in +dire want. May I ask you, under these circumstances, to be so good +as to advance me L500 for a few months. I will give any security you +like. Perhaps I might repay some part of the loan by doing work for +you during the election. This must be a small matter to a wealthy +and generous man like you. To me it is a matter of life and death. +Anxiously awaiting your early and favourable reply, and begging you to +keep this application a secret, + +I remain, Sir, Yours, faithfully, HENRY PIDGIN. + +That sounded heart-breaking, but I happened to know that Mr. PIDGIN's +"malarial fever" was nothing but _delirium tremens_, brought on by +a prolonged course of drunkenness. Hence his shaky handwriting, &c. +BLISSOP had warned me against him. Wrote back that, in view of the +Corrupt Practices Act, it was impossible for me to relieve individual +cases. + +Called on the PENFOLDS this afternoon. They are up from Billsbury +for their stay in London, and have got a house in Eaton Square. To +my surprise found Mrs. BELLAMY and MARY there. That was awkward, +especially as MARY looked at me, as I thought, very meaningly, and +asked me if I didn't think SOPHY PENFOLD sweetly pretty. I muttered +something about preferring a darker type of beauty (MARY's hair is as +black as my hat), to which MARY replied that perhaps, after all, that +kind of pink and white beauty with hair like tow _was_ rather insipid. +The BELLAMYS it seems met the PENFOLDS at a dinner last week, and +the girls struck up a friendship, this call being the result. Young +PENFOLD, whom I had never seen before, was there and was infernally +attentive to MARY. He's in the 24th Lancers, and looks like a barber's +block. Mrs. BELLAMY said to me, "I've been hearing so much about you +from dear Lady PENFOLD. They all have the highest opinion of you. In +fact, Lady PENFOLD said she felt quite like a mother to you. And how +kind of you to buy so many things from Miss PENFOLD at the Bazaar. +What are my father's noble lines? + + "True kindness is no blustering rogue that struts + With empty mouthings on the stage of life, + But, like a tender, timid plant that shuts + At every touch, it shrinks from noisy strife." + +(And so forth, I've forgotten the rest.) "I love kindness," continued +Mrs. BELLAMY, "in young men. By the way, will you excuse a short +invitation, and dine with us the day after to-morrow? All the PENFOLDS +are coming." I said yes, and made up my mind that I must settle +matters with MARY one way or another before complications got worse, +or young PENFOLD made any more progress. I felt all the afternoon as +if I'd committed a crime. + +_Friday, June 13th_.--Three cheers. I've done it. Called on the +BELLAMYS to-day. Found MARY alone. She was very sarcastic, but at last +I could stand it no longer, and told her I had never loved and never +should love anybody but her. Then she burst into tears, and I--anyhow +she's promised to marry me. Have to interview Mrs. BELLAMY to-morrow. +No time to do it to-day, as she was out till late. Chuck her up! + +Mother received the news very well. "Accepted you, my darling boy?" +she said. "Of course she did. How _could_ she do otherwise? Bring +her to see me soon. She shall, of course, have all the family jewels +immediately, and the dining-room furniture too. There'll be a few +other trifles too, I daresay, that you'll be glad of." Dear Mother, +she's the kindest soul in the world. _Carlo_ has been informed of the +news, and is said to have manifested an extraordinarily intelligent +appreciation of it, by insisting on a second helping for supper. He's +a remarkable dog. + + * * * * * + +"SEMPER EADEM." + + ["The position of the Jews in Russia becomes daily more + terrible. An order that they are henceforth to work upon their + Sabbath and holy festivals is about to be issued and put in + force."--_Standard_.--"A most pertinent illustration of the + falsity of repeated rumours and reports representing in some + cases a strong disposition, and in others an actual decision, + on the part of the CZAR and the Russian Government, to + alleviate the miseries of the Jews."--_Times_.] + + Who said the scourge should slacken? Who foretold + The goad should cease, the shackle loose its hold? + The wish, perchance, fathered once more the thought, + Though long experience against it fought. + Not so! The CZAR's in Muscovy, and all + Is well with--Tyranny! The harried thrall + Shall still be harried, though, a little while, + The Autocrat on the Republic smile; + The Jew shall be robbed, banished, outraged still, + Although the tyrant, with a shuddering thrill + Diplomacy scarce hides, for some brief days + Must listen to the hated "_Marseillaise_!" + Fear not, Fanatic! Despot do not doubt! + The rule of Orthodoxy and the Knout + Is not yet over wholly. France may woo, + Columbia plead, the Jew is still the Jew; + And, spite of weak humanitarian fuss, + CAESAR be praised, the Russ is still the Russ! + + * * * * * + +A GROUSE OUTRAGE.--Shooting them before the Twelfth. + + * * * * * + +"WON'T WORK!" + +AIR--"_ST. PATRICK'S DAY IN THE MORNING_." _IRISH SPORTSMAN SINGS_:-- + +[Illustration] + + St. Patrick, they say, + Kicked the snakes in the say, + But, ochone! if he'd had such a hound-pack as mine, + I fancy the Saint, + (Without further complaint) + Would have toed the whole troop of them into the brine. + Once they shivered and stared, + At my whip-cracking scared; + Now the clayrics with mitre and crosier and book, + Put the scumfish on me, + And, so far as I see, + There's scarce a dog-crayture + But's changed in his nature. + I must beat some game up by hook or by crook, + But my chances of Sport + Are cut terribly short + On St. Grouse's Day in the morning! + + With a thundering polthogue, + And the toe of my brogue, + I'd like to kick both of 'em divil knows where! + Sure I broke 'em meself, + And, so long "on the shelf" + They ought to be docile, the dogs of my care. + O'BRIEN mongrel villin, + And as for cur DILLON + Just look at him ranging afar at his will! + I thought, true as steel, + They would both come to heel, + Making up for the pack + Whistled off by false MAC, + As though _he'd_ ever shoot with _my_ patience and skill! + To me ye'll not stick, Sirs? + What divil's elixirs + Tempt _ye_ on the Twelfth in the morning? + + Plague on ye, come back! + Och! ye villainous pack, + Ye slaves of the Saxon, ye blind bastard bunch! + Whelps weak and unstable, + _I_ only am able + The Celt-hating Sassenach wholly to s-c-rr-unch! + Yet for me ye won't work, + But sneak homeward and shirk, + Ye've an eye on the ould spider, GLADSTONE, a Saxon! + He'll sell ye, no doubt. + Sure, a pig with ring'd snout + Is a far boulder baste + Than such mongrels! The taste + Of the triple-plied thong BULL will lay your base backs on + Will soon make ye moan + That ye left _me_ alone + On St. Grouse's Day in the morning! + + * * * * * + +TO LORD TENNYSON. + +_ON HIS EIGHTY-SECOND BIRTHDAY, AUGUST 6, 1891._ + + Ay! "After many a summer dies the Swan."[1] + But singing dies, if we may trust the Muse. + And sweet thou singest as when fully ran + Youth's flood-tide. Not to thee did Dawn refuse + The dual gift. Our new Tithonus thou, + On whom the indignant Hours work not their will, + Seeing that, though old age may trench thy brow, + It cannot chill thy soul, or mar thy skill. + Aurora's rosy shadows bathe thee yet, + Nor coldy. "Give me immortality!" + Tithonus cried, and lingered to regret + The careless given boon. Not so with thee. + Such immortality is thine as clings + To "happy men that have the power to die." + The Singer lives on whilst the Song he sings + Charms the world's heart. Such immortality + Is better than unending lapse of years. + For that the great god-gift, Eternal Youth, + Accompanies it; the failures, the chill fears + Tithonus knew thou may'st be spared in truth, + Seeing that thine Aurora's quickening breath + Lives in thee whilst thou livest, so that thou + Needst neither dread nor pray for kindly Death, + Like "that grey shadow once a man." And now, + Great Singer, still we wish thee length of days, + Song-power unslackened, and unfading bays! + +[Footnote 1: "_Tithonus_."] + + * * * * * + +[Illustration: VICISSITUDES OF A RISING PERIODICAL. + +_The Proprietor_. "I'LL TELL YOU WHAT IT IS, SHARDSON, I'M GETTING +SICK OF THE 'OLE BLOOMIN' SHOW! _THE KNACKER_ AIN'T SELLING A +SCRAP--NO NOTICE TOOK OF US ANYWHERE--NOT A BLOOMIN' ADVERTISEMENT! +AND YET THERE AIN'T 'ARDLY A LIVIN' ENGLISHMAN OF MARK, FROM TENNYSON +DOWNWARDS, AS WE 'AVEN'T SHOWN UP AND PITCHED INTO, AND DRAGGED 'IS +NAME IN THE MUD!" + +_The Editor_. "DON'T LET'S THROW UP THE SPONGE YET, OLD MAN! LET'S +GIVE THE DEAD 'UNS A TURN--LET'S HAVE A SHY AT THACKERAY, BROWNING, +GEORGE ELIOT, OR, BETTER STILL, LET'S BESPATTER GENERAL GORDON AND +CARDINAL NEWMAN A BIT,--_THAT_ OUGHT TO FETCH 'EM A FEW, AND BRING US +INTO NOTICE!"] + + * * * * * + +WHAT HOE! RAIKES!--When King RICHARD--no, beg his pardon, Mr. RICHARD +KING--says, as quoted in the _Times_, "That he can only assume that +Mr. RAIKES purposely availed himself of a technicality to cover a +statement which was a palpable _suggestio falsi_," he throws something +unpleasant into the teeth of RAIKES. It is as well to remember that +rakes have teeth. + + * * * * * + +"LATINE DOCTUS."--A Cantab, neither a first-rate sailor nor a +first-class classic, arrived at Calais after a rough passage, looking, +as his friend, who met him on the _quai_, observed, "so changed he +would hardly have known him." "That's it," replied the staggering +graduate, "_quantum mutatus ab billow!_" Oh! he must have been bad! + + * * * * * + +THE SONG THAT BROKE MY HEART. + + I paused in a crowded street, + I only desired to ride-- + Only to wait for a Hammersmith 'bus + With room for myself outside; + When I caught the nastiest tune + My ear had ever heard, + And asked the Police to take it away, + But never a man of them stirred. + + So the singer still sang on; + She would not, would not go; + She sang a song of the year before last + That struck me as rather low. + She followed with one that was high, + That made the tear-drops start, + That was "_Hi-tiddly-i-ti! Hi!-ti!-hi!_" + The song that broke my heart! + + * * * * * + +WHAT is A "DEMOGRAPHER"?--Those Londoners who ask this question will +have already obtained a practical answer, as, this week, London +is full of Demographers, to whom _Mr. Punch_, Grand Master of all +Demographers (or "writers for the people"), gives a hearty welcome. +All hail to "The New Demogracy!" + + * * * * * + +'ARRY ON A 'OUSE-BOAT. + +[Illustration] + + Dear CHARLIE,--It's 'ot, and no error! Summer on us, at last, with a + bust; + Ninety odd in the shade as I write, I've a 'ed, and a thunderin' + thust. + Can't go on the trot at this tempryture, though I'm on 'oliday + still; + So I'll pull out my _eskrytor_, CHARLIE, and give you a touch of my + quill. + + If you find as my fist runs to size, set it down to that quill, dear + old pal; + Correspondents is on to me lately, complains as I write like a gal. + Sixteen words to the page, and slopscrawly, all dashes and blobs. + Well, it's true; + But a quill and big sprawl is the fashion, so wot is a feller to do? + + Didn't spot you at 'Enley, old oyster--I did 'ope you'd shove in + your oar. + We 'ad a rare barney, I tell you, although a bit spiled by the pour. + 'Ad a invite to 'OPKINS's 'Ouse-boat, prime pitch, and swell party, + yer know, + Pooty girls, first-class lotion, and music. I tell yer we did let + things go. + + Who sez 'Enley ain't up to old form, that Society gives it the slip? + Wish you could 'ave seen us--and heard us--old boy, when aboard of + our ship. + Peonies and poppies ain't in it for colour with our little lot, + And with larfter and banjos permiskus we managed to mix it up 'ot. + + My blazer was claret and mustard, my "stror" was a rainbow gone + wrong; + I ain't one who's ashamed of his colours, but likes 'em mixed + middlingish strong. + 'EMMY 'OPKINS, the fluffy-'aired daughter, a dab at a punt or canoe, + Said I looked like a garden of dahlias, and showed up her neat navy + blue. + + Fair mashed on yours truly, Miss EMMY; but that's only jest by the + way, + 'ARRY ain't one to brag of _bong four tunes_; but wot I wos wanting + to say + Is about this here "spiling the River" which snarlers set down to our + sort. + Bosh! CHARLIE, extreme Tommy rot! It's these sniffers as want to + spile sport. + + Want things all to theirselves, these old jossers, and all on the + strictest Q.T. + Their idea of the Thames being "spiled" by the smallest suggestion of + spree, + Wy it's right down rediklus, old pal, gives a feller the ditherums, + it do. + I mean going for them a rare bat, and I'm game to wire in till all's + blue. + + Who are they, these stuckuppy snipsters, as jaw about quiet and peace, + Who would silence the gay "constant-screamer" and line the Thames + banks with perlice; + Who sneer about "'ARRY at 'Enley," and sniff about "cads on the course," + As though it meant "Satan in Eden"? I'll 'owl at sich oafs till I'm + 'oarse! + + Scrap o'sandwich-greased paper'll shock 'em, a ginger-beer bottle or + "Bass," + Wot 'appens to drop 'mong the lilies, or gets chucked aside on the + grass, + Makes 'em gasp like a frog in a frying-pan. Br-r-r-r! Wot old mivvies + they are! + Got nerves like a cobweb, I reckon, a smart Banjo-twang makes 'em jar. + + I'm Toffy, you know, and no flies, CHARLIE; swim with the Swells, and + all that, + But I'm blowed if this bunkum don't make me inclined to turn Radical + rat. + "Riparian Rights," too! Oh Scissors! They'd block the Backwaters and + Broads, + Because me and my pals likes a lark! Serve 'em right if old BURNS + busts their 'oards! + + Rum blokes, these here Sosherlist spouters! There's DANNEL, the + Dosser, old chap. + As you've 'eard me elude to afore. Fair stone-broker, not wuth 'arf + a rap,-- + Knows it's all Cooper's ducks with _him_, CHARLIE; won't run to a pint + o' four 'arf, + And yet he will slate me like sugar, and give me cold beans with his + charf. + +[Illustration] + + Sez DANNEL--and dash his darned cheek, CHARLIE!--"Monkeys like + you"--meaning _Me_!-- + "Give the latter-day Mammon his chance. Your idea of a lark or a spree + Is all Noise, Noodle-Nonsense, and Nastiness! Dives, who wants an + excuse + For exclusiveness, finds it in _you_, you contemptible coarse-cackling + goose! + + "Riparian rights? That's the patter of Ahab to Naboth, of course; + But 'tis pickles like you make it plausible, louts such as you give it + force. + You make sweet Thames reaches Gehennas, the fair Norfolk Broads you + befoul; + You--_you_, who'd make Beulah a hell with your blatant Bank Holiday + howl! + + "Decent property-owners abhor you; you spread your coarse feasts on + their lawns, + And 'ARRY's a hog when he feeds, and an ugly Yahoo when he yawns; + You litter, and ravage, and cock-sky; you romp like a satyr obscene, + And the noise of you rises to heaven till earth might blush red + through her green. + + "You are moneyed, sometimes, and well-tailored; but come you from + Oxford or Bow, + You're a flaring offence when you lounge, and a blundering pest when + you row; + Your 'monkeyings' mar every pageant, your shindyings spoil every sport, + And there isn't an Eden on earth but's destroyed when it's 'ARRY's + resort. + + "Then monopolist Mammon may chuckle, Riparian Ahabs rejoice; + There's excuse in your Caliban aspect, your hoarse and ear-torturing + voice, + You pitiful Cockney-born Cloten, you slum-bred Silenus, 'tis you + Spoil the silver-streamed Thames for Pan-lovers, and all the + nymph-worshipping crew!" + + I've "reported" as near as no matter! I don't hunderstand more than + arf + Of his patter; he's preciously given to potry and classical charf. + But the cheek on it, CHARLIE! A Stone-broke! I _should_ like to give + him wot for, + Only DANNEL the Dosser's a dab orf of whom t'ain't so easy to score. + +[Illustration] + + But it's time that this bunkum was bunnicked, bin fur too much on it + of late-- + Us on 'OPKINS's 'Ouse-boat, I tell yer, cared nix for the + ink-spiller's "slate." + _I_ mean doin' them Broads later on, for free fishing and shooting, + that's flat. + If I don't give them dash'd Norfolk Dumplings a doing, I'll 'eat my + old 'at. + + Rooral quiet, and rest, and refinement? Oh, let 'em go home and eat + coke. + These fussy old footlers whose 'air stands on hend at a row-de-dow + joke, + The song of the skylark sounds pooty, but "skylarking" song's better + fun, + And you carn't do the rooral to-rights on a tract and a tuppenny bun. + + As to colour, and kick-up, and sing-song, our party was fair to the + front; + But we wosn't alone; lots of toppers, in 'Ouse-Boat, or four-oar, or + punt, + Wos a doin' the rorty and rosy as lively as 'OPKINS's lot, + Ah! the swells sling it out pooty thick; _they_ ain't stashed by no + ink-spiller's rot. + + Bright blazers, and twingle-twang banjoes, and bottles of Bass, my + dear boy, + Lots of dashing, and splashing, and "mashing" are things every man + must enjoy, + And the petticoats ain't fur behind 'em, you bet. While top-ropes I + can carry, + It ain't soap-board slop about "Quiet" will put the clear kibosh on + + 'ARRY. + + * * * * * + +HOW TO SPEND A HOLIDAY ON SCIENTIFIC PRINCIPLES. + +(_A PAGE FROM THE DIARY OF AN ENTHUSIAST IN SEARCH OF REST._) + + ["It is a good rule of practice to devote one portion of a + short vacation to the serious and necessary business of doing + nothing, and doing it very thoroughly too."--_Letter to the + Times._] + +At last my time for rest has arrived. Musn't be idle, though. Dr. +MORTIMER GRANVILLE says it would be most injurious to my health. Must +hunt up precedents for leisure leading to no results. Let me see--why +not try the British Museum? Sure to find something useful there--and +useless, which will be more appropriate. + +Take an omnibus. See one in the distance. Hail it. Conductor takes +no notice! Shout and hurry after it. Try to attract attention of the +driver. Failure. Capital commencement to my labours. Had my run for +nothing! + +Victory! Stopped one partially occupied. No room outside. Enter +interior. Six passengers on one seat. Five on the other. The half +dozen regard me with contemptuous indifference. The five make no room. +Explain that I want a seat. Remark received in silence. Sit down on +knee of small boy. Mother (next him) expostulates--angrily. Chorus of +indignant beholders. Conductor is impertinent. Ask for his number, +he asks for my fare. Pay him. While this is going on, young woman has +entered omnibus, and taken vacant seat. Conductor counts places, says +there is no room. Can't carry me. Won't give back fare--has torn off +ticket. Says I must get out. Say I will report him. Impudent +again. Getting out drop ticket. Incident subsequently (to my later +satisfaction) leads to nothing! + +Won't have anything more to do with the omnibuses. Enter hansom--old +man (the driver) smiles civilly when I say "British Museum." Now, I +must seriously rest. Go to sleep. Slumber until awakened by a jolt. +Look out. Find myself near the river. Strikes me that the Thames is +not close to the Museum. Appeal to cabman through the hole in the +roof. Difficulty in attracting his attention. Stop him at last. Ask +him why he did not take me to the Museum. He smiles and says he didn't +hear me--he is deaf! Very angry. He expostulates, civilly. He saw I +was asleep and didn't wish to disturb me! He has been driving up and +down the Thames Embankment for the last three hours--charge seven and +sixpence. Don't see my way out of the difficulty, except by payment. +He thanks me, and suggests that he shall now drive me to the Museum +for eighteen-pence. Very angry and refuse. He is hailed by someone +else, and is off to pick up his new fare. On consideration it seems to +me that my anger has led to nothing. Nothing--just what I wanted, but +not exactly at the right moment. + +Rather hungry. Enter a restaurant. Crowded with gentlemen wearing +hats--who seem to be on intimate terms with the waiters. Get a bill of +fare which is thrust into my hands by an attendant loaded with dishes. +Let me see--what shall I have? "Lamb's head and peas." Have never +tried this dish. Might be good. Waiter (who seems to be revolving, +like the planetary system, in an orbit) reaches me, and I shout what +I want. He replies, "Sorry, Sir, just off," and vanishes. Look up +something else. "Liver and bacon." Not had it for years! Used to like +it. On reappearance of the planetary waiter, give my order. He nods +and vanishes. Wait patiently. Rather annoyed that my nearest neighbour +has used my part of the table for a dish containing broad beans. Glare +at him. No result. Planetary waiter has passed me twice--stop him +angrily the third time. He is less busy now--he pauses. He thrusts +bill of fare before me, and asks me "what I would please to want." +Explode and shout in tones of thunder, "Liver and bacon!" He +disappears, and comes back a few minutes later, saying, "Very sorry, +but when I first ordered it, liver and bacon _was_ on--now it's off. +Will I have a chop?" Reply angrily, "No." Same answer to "Steak," +"Duck and green peas," "A cut off the beef joint," and "Irish stew." +Waiter asks (with forced civility), "What _will_ I have!" I return, as +I leave the restaurant, "Nothing!" On regaining the street (although +hungry) I am pleased to think that I am still obeying Dr. MORTIMER +GRANVILLE's directions! + +No use trying cab or omnibus. Both failures. Why not walk? Good way +of wasting time, so begin to go northward, and in due course get to +Bloomsbury. Enter Museum. Umbrella seized. Approach Reading Room. +Civil attendant informs me that the Library is closed--taking stock, +or something! Then I have come all this way for nothing! Angry, but +inwardly contented. Doing nothing "very thoroughly!" + +[Illustration] + +Turn back. Why not go to a theatre? Certainly. Go to four in +succession, and find them all closed! Well, good way of wasting time, +Shall I visit one of the Exhibitions? Chelsea or Earl's Court? After +consideration, come to the conclusion that this would be worse than +doing nothing. Must draw the line somewhere! + +After all, there is no place like home. Or shall I go to my Club? Yes. +Get there. Find it is being repaired, and that the members are taken +in somewhere else. Hate new scenes and new faces. Return to my first +idea, and make for my private address; but feel that it may be rather +dull, as my wife and the children are at the seaside. Still, somebody +can get me a little supper. At least, I hope so. Find my latch-key +is of no use, on account of the chain being up. Ring angrily, when +a charwoman in a bonnet appears, and explains that the servants, +not expecting me home so early, have gone to the play, having +locked up the larder. Charwoman agrees with me that it is +disgraceful--especially the locking up of the larder. + +However, it can't be helped. Make up my mind to go to bed, and get +fast asleep, thoroughly tired out with the labours of a day spent +in doing absolutely nothing! Hope (in my dreams) that Dr. MORTIMER +GRANVILLE will be satisfied! + + * * * * * + +"OUR CHILDREN'S EARS." + + Whether they'll be as long as those of Midas, + Or stand out salient from either side as + A close-cropped ARRY's, at right angles set + To his flat jowl, we cannot settle, yet; + But in one thing, at least, a score they'll chalk-- + They will not hear the stuff their fathers talk! + + * * * * * + +DEFINITION.--"_La haute Cuisine_"--the kitchen on the top flat of a +ten-storey'd mansion. + + * * * * * + +[Illustration: AN INSINUATING WHISPER. + +'JUST LOOK, LAURA! WHAT A LOVELY LITTLE DOG THAT OLD GENTLEMAN'S GOT! +HOW I WISH HE WAS MINE!" 'SHALL OI _GIT_ 'IM FOR YER, LYDY?"] + + * * * * * + +"HAVE WE FORGOTTEN GORDON?" + + [Lord TENNYSON, under this heading, writes appealing to + Englishmen for subscriptions to the funds of the "Gordon Boys' + Home" at Woking, which is in want of L40,000. Contributions + should be sent to the Treasurer, General Sir DIGHTON PROBYN, + V.C., Marlborough House, Pall Mall.] + + Are we sleeping? "_Have_ we forgotten?" Like the thrust of an Arab spear + Comes that conscience-piercing-question from the Singer of Haslemere. + Have we indeed forgotten the hero we so be-sang, + When across the far south sand-wastes the news of his murder rang? + + Forgotten? So it had seemed to him, as alone afar he lay, + With the Nile to watch for laggard friends, fierce foes to hold at bay; + Though the tired red lines toiled onward up the Cataracts, and we + Dreamed of the shout of the rescuing host _his_ eyes should never see. + + When chivalrous BURNABY lay slain, with a smile in the face of death, + And for happy news from the hungry wastes men yearned with bated breath; + When WILSON pushed his eager way past torrent-swirl and crag, + Till they saw o'er GORDON's citadel wave high--the MAHDI's flag. + + That shame was surely enough, enough, that sorrow had a sting + Our England should not court again. The Laureate's accents ring + With scorn suppressed, a scorn deserved indeed, if still our part + Is to forget a purpose high that was dear to GORDON's heart. + + "This earth has borne no simpler, nobler man." So then sang he + Who sounds a keen reveille now. "Can you help us?" What say we? + Oh, out on words, that come like WOLSELEY's host too late--too late! + Do--_do_, in the simple silent way that made lost GORDON great. + + Surely these Boys that GORDON loved in the Home with GORDON's name + Should speak to every English heart that cares for our England's fame; + And what be forty thousand pounds as an offering made to him + Who held so high that same bright fame some do their worst to dim! + + Fit task for patriot poet, this! TYRTAEUS never stood + More worthily for heroic hearts or his home-land's highest good. + Give! give! and with free hands! His spirit's poor, his soul is hard, + Who heeds not our noblest Hero's appeal through the lips of our noblest Bard! + + * * * * * + +A REMINISCENCE AND A QUOTATION.--It is reported that two Gaiety +burlesque-writers are about to re-do _Black-Eye'd Susan_ "up to +date," of course, as is now the fashion. As the typical melodramatic +tragedian observes, "'Tis now some twenty-five years ago" that FRED +DEWAR strutted the first of his five hundred nights or so on the stage +as _Captain Crosstree_, that PATTY OLIVER sang with trilling effect +her "_Pretty Seeusan_," and that DANVERS, as _Dame Hatly_, danced like +a rag-doll in a fantoccini-show. To quote the Poet CRABBE, and to go +some way back in doing so,-- + + "I see no more within our borough's bound + The name of DANVERS!" + +Which lines will be found in No. XVII. of the Poet's "Posthumous +Tales." + + * * * * * + +THE MODERN TRAVELLER. + + In a restaurant-Pullman he books + His seat, a luxurious craze. + Most travellers now take their Cooks, + And everyone's going to Gaze. + + * * * * * + +IBERIAN-HIBERNIAN.--Sir,--In Ireland since the time when the Armada +came to grief on its coasts, there have always existed Spanish names, +either pure, as in the instance of Valencia, or slightly mixed. In +Spain the Celtic names are found in the same way, and an instance +occurs on the border-land of Spain and Southern France, in the name of +the place to which the Spanish Premier has gone for his holiday, viz., +Bagneres-de-Bigorre. If "Bigorre" isn't "Begorra," what is it? DON +PATRICK DE CORQUEZ. + + * * * * * + +[Illustration: "HAVE WE FORGOTTEN GORDON?"] + + * * * * * + +A LOVER'S COMPLAINT. + +(_THOROUGHLY NEW STYLE._) + +[Illustration] + + Belinda dear, once on a time + I doted on your every feature, + I wrote you _billets doux_ in rhyme + In which I called you "charming creature." + No lover half so keen as I, + Than mine no ardent passion stronger, + So I should like to tell you why + I cannot love you any longer. + + When I was yours and you were mine, + Your hair, I thought, was most delightful, + But now, through Fashion's last design, + It looks, to my taste, simply frightful! + Though why this should be I don't know, + For I can think of nothing madder + Than hair decked out in coils that go + To make what seems to be a ladder. + + Unhappy day, when first you dressed + Your tresses thus--how you must rue it! + For you yourself, you know, confessed + It took you several hours to do it. + Oh, tell me, is it but a snare + Designed to captivate another, + Or do you merely bind your hair + Because you're bidden by your mother? + + Again--you will not take it ill-- + You are, my dear, distinctly dumpy: + A flowing cape it's certain will + Well--_not_ become one short and stumpy. + Yet since, although you are not tall, + You wear a cape, you may take my word + That in the mouths of one and all + You have become a very byword. + + So this is why my love has fled-- + If ever there should come a season + When you shall show some sense instead + Of such an utter lack of reason, + If I should still be fancy free, + Why then it's only right to mention + That, if you care to write to me, + I'll give your claims my best attention. + + * * * * * + +A NOTE.--In _Black and White_ for August 8 there is a large picture +representing a group of English Dramatists, amongst whom please +specially notice a figure intended for Mr. W.S. GILBERT (it was +thoughtful and kind of the artist to put the names below), who is +apparently explaining to a select few why he has been compelled to +come out in this strange old coat and these queer collars. All the +Dramatists look as cheerful as mutes at a funeral, their troubled +expression of countenance probably arising from the knowledge that +somewhere hidden away is a certain eminently unbiassed Ibsenitish +critic who has been engaged to do the lot in a lump. From this +exhibition of collective wisdom turn to p. 203, and observe the single +figure of a cabman, drawn by an artist who certainly has a Keene +appreciation of the style of _Mr. Punch's_ inimitable "C.K." + + * * * * * + +[Illustration: "BURYING THE HATCHET". + +(_Vide Report of the L.C. & D. Chairman's Speech, "Times," August +6._)] + + * * * * * + +A LESSON FROM THE R.N.E. + +(_FOR THE USE OF SAILORS PROPOSING TO JOIN THE ROYAL NAVY._) + +[Illustration: Boxing the Compass.] + +_Question_. I think you have been to the Royal Naval Exhibition at +Chelsea. + +_Answer_. I have. I was induced to make the journey by an advertising +placard posted on two official boards outside the Admiralty. + +_Q._ What was your first impression on reaching the grounds usually +open to the public, but now reserved for commercial purposes? + +_A._ That the Public were extremely benevolent to permit so long an +infringement of their right of way and other privileges. + +_Q._ After you had entered the Exhibition, what was your initial +impression? + +_A._ That a great number of the exhibits were not very appropriate +advertisements. + +_Q._ Did you see Seamen of the Royal Navy making an exhibition of +themselves in the Arena? + +_A._ I did; and could not help contrasting with the feebly-histrionic +display the recent order in Paris forbidding the French soldiers to +take part in theatrical representations. + +_Q._ Was the display of these seamen of the Royal Navy particularly +impressive? + +_A._ No, and I fancy that some of the audience who had paid an extra +sixpence to see it from the Grand Stand, were slightly disappointed. + +_Q._ Besides the cutlass and gun drill, did you see these seamen +(wearing Her Majesty's uniform), take part in any other performance? + +_A._ I did, and for this, too, an extra sixpence was charged for the +use of the Grand Stand. They waded about in a sort of tank or large +bath with models of ironclads on their heads. + +_Q._ So far as you could see was this last display conducive to the +maintenance of strict discipline? + +_A._ I should say not, the more especially as I noticed towards +the close of the display that the men seemed inclined to indulge in +larking. + +_Q._ Has this raree show caused you to wish to enlist in the Royal +Navy? + +_A._ Certainly not. The gun and cutlass drill before a paying audience +reminded me of _The Battle of Waterloo_ at Astley's. + +_Q._ But would you not like to join the Royal Navy, so that you might +be qualified to perform in a tank? + +_A._ No; for on consideration I think if I wished to do anything in +the "comic water-tournament line," I could make better terms with Mr. +SANGER than the Lords of the Admiralty. + + * * * * * + +QUEER QUERIES.--POPULAR PRICES.--Would any reader inform me what is +the lowest price at which _wholesome_ aerated waters are sold? I +have been drinking some "Shadwell Seltzer, special _cuvee_," at a +penny-halfpenny the syphon, and I fancy this may have something to do +with my present symptoms, which include partial paralysis of the left +side, violent spasms, an almost irresistible tendency to homicide, +together with excruciating pain in every part of the body. My doctor +says the lead in the syphons has "permeated my system." When I am +better, I intend to prosecute the manufacturer. My doctor discourages +the notion. He says he does not know if an action would "lie," but he +is sure the manufacturer would!--TEETOTALLER. + + * * * * * + +HELVETIAN SIXTH-CENTURY MOTTO.--"_'Tell' est La Vie!_"--_en Suisse_. + + * * * * * + +[Illustration: WORK FOR THE RECESS. + +MISS PARLIAMENTINA PUTS HER HOUSE IN ORDER, WITH THE ASSISTANCE OF THE +COMMITTEE ON VENTILATION, ETC.] + + * * * * * + +OFF TO MASHERLAND. + +(_BY OUR OWN GRANDOLPH._) + +A FEW REMINISCENCES. + +[Illustration: Grandolph and the Wild Turkey.] + +Begin to regret dinners on board the _Grantully Castle_. The other +day was regretting the Amphitryon. Don't go so far back as the +Albemarle-Street Amphitryon, quite satisfied with a simple Donald +Currie. [_Mem._--The proverb hath much truth in it that saith, "Go +farther and fare worse."] Sick of chicken. With poetic epigrammacy +might say, "Quite sick Of chick." Stringy chickens, too! One has to +tug at them; sort of game of "poulet-hauly"--as DRUMMY would say. +Though were he here, I doubt if he would say anything. He certainly +would eat nothing: probably would only open his mouth to observe, "I'm +off!" and then we should see him no more. Quite right. So would I--but +for "my oath, my Lord, my oath!" (N.B.--This is a quotation. Sure +of it. Where from? Don't know. Tragedy probably; sounds tragic. No +matter. Can give it with effect in a speech, and Members turn to one +another and ask, "What's that from?" When they ask me confidentially +afterwards, I reply with an air of intense surprise, "What! don't +_you_ know! Well!!" and I turn on my heel, leaving CHUCKLEHEAD, M.P., +annoyed with himself,--"_plante la_" as DRUMMY would say,--for being +so ignorant, and for having displayed his ignorance so palpably. Off +he goes to British Museum and searches for quotation. This gives him +opportunity of acquiring much useful knowledge, which, but for me, +he would not have had. Rather a long parenthesis this. So--on we goes +again.) + +TO THE MINES. + +_A propos_ of exploring, the other day, a digger's assistant came up +to me and inquired "If I had," as I understood him, "my gin pack'd." +I returned that I never took spirits. Found out subsequently that word +was spelt "_mijinpacht_," which is African-Dutch for "lease." Well, +why didn't he say so before? Of course I have, and plenty of 'em; else +why am I here? + +To-day went to see the ore in the Robinson Crusoe Mines. As D.W. would +say, "The site strikes me with ore!" + +Much interested, of course, in inspecting the Salisbury Mine. +Naturally, I put in my claim for the Salisbury. What's in a name and +a family, if one can't get some good out of 'em? Intend to start +the "Uncle Mine." Fine chance. Any place where there's a large and +fluctuating Pop-ulation (with emphasis on the "Pop"), the Uncle +Mine is a certainty." But Oh, for the "pop,"--I mean the dear old +fizz,--and the older it is, the dearer it is,--at the Amphitryon. + +"IS LIFE WORTH LIVING?" + +The Transvaal's the place for living in. Here life is life, be it +never so lively. The only nuisance is the Boer; and the Boer's a +hass, or rather a mule. That's my opinion of Boers individually and +collectively; I make no concessions to them; hang 'em, they've already +got enough. If this country had been in the hands of Englishmen, or +Americans, or both jointly (talking of jointly, we'd have had better +dinners than we get now but of this anon--) with a certain person whom +I can mention, and who is not a hundred miles distant from the present +writer at this moment, as Head of affairs, an Imperial ruler, with +power to add to his number (which number would be One, and would +remain so), then this country, in a very short time, would have ruled +the world. What ports, what champagnes, what railroads, what shipping, +what commerce, what an Imperial Parliament, with the Despot in the +Chair in both Houses, all speeches, except the Despot's, limited +to five minutes apiece, and no reduction on talking a quantity. +Oh, for one hour of this power, and the Amphitryon be blowed! Aha! +_Grandolphus Africanus Protector_ to begin with; _Grandolphus +Africanus Rex_ to go on with; and _Grandolphus Africanissimmus +Imperator_ to finish with! + +REMORSE AND REGRET. + +[Illustration: Grandolphus Africanus.] + +Now to dinner! On what? Yah! tough beef, woolly mutton and stringy +chicken. And to think that but for the Boers, the beastly Boers, +we should have had the finest teal, wild duck, venison, goslings, +asparagus, French beans, best Welsh mutton, and real turtle soup every +day _au choix_!! But what did the Boers do? Why, they ascertained that +skins and feathers, and shells, were valuable, whereupon they went to +work, shot everything everywhere, sold skins and feathers, and shells! +So that deer and birds hadn't a chance. If they popped out, pop went +the guns like the original weasel, which some years ago was always +popping, and the poor dumb animals with the pleading eyes and the +tender flesh were slaughtered wholesale. In this manner, too, the game +soon came to an end, as it must do whenever the game is so one-sided +as it was here. Then, as I have said, the shells were valuable! The +shells! What chance had the tortoise and the turtle? "'Tis the voice +of the turtle, I heard him complain." (What's that from? That's from +WATTS--eh?) What chance had the peas, however wild? or a bean as broad +as one of ----'s after-dinner stories? Ah! it makes me sad and angry, +and once again I cry Oh, for an hour, and that the dinner-hour, aboard +the _Grantully Castle_! Ay! even though the G.O.M. were on board; for +he could appreciate the daily Currie which to me is now _perdu_. Well! +so to dinner "with what appetite I may," and then on to Pretoria, +of which place I think I shall change the name to Pre-radicallia or +Pre-fourthpartia. You see Pre-toria implies one who was Toryer than +a Tory. Aha! what is my scheme? Do you see the picture? GRANDOLPHUS +IMPERATOR REX AURIFERORUM MEORUM (Latine for "Mines") surrounded by +his Pretorian Guards. + + * * * * * + +SPORT TO US! + +[Illustration: "What larks! Killed four-and-twenty blackbirds all in a +row! at one shot!!!"] + +Went out shooting before dinner. Killed one wild turkey, after an +awful struggle, in which I very nearly got the worst of it; but +fortunately the turkey was unarmed, though for all that he used his +drumsticks in such a manner as in a little more would have brought +flocks of other furious wild turkeys on to the scene, had I not, with +great presence of mind and one small bullet out of my spring-pea rifle +managed to crack the parchment-like skin which covers his drum, and +at the same time broken one of his sticks. Then, he fell. Carried him +home on my back. What larks! Killed four-and-twenty blackbirds at +one shot as they were all sitting in a row on a rail. They were so +frightened of me, _it made 'em quail!!_ Wonderful transformation, +wasn't it? But fact, all the same. Four-and-twenty quail All on +a rail. Killed eighty "Koran," a Mahomedan bird, very scarce, and +therefore bring in a considerable Mahomet, or, (ahem) profit? See? +Shot a "Tittup"--so called on account of its peculiar action after +drinking; also three early German Beerbirds, or, as the Dutchmen call +them, "Spring-boks." There is another origin for this name, which is +also likely, and that is that they don't appear when there's an early +spring, but when the spring is rather backward then they come forward. +Whichever you like, my little dear, you pays your money, &c., &c. +After all these exciting adventures--"The game is cook'd, and now +we'll go to dinner!"--quotation from early Dramatist, by Yours ever, +[Illustration] + + * * * * * + +WORTH NOTICING. + + O poor Mr. ATKINSON, victim of fate, + Who bowed when you ought to have lifted your hat, + When the Session is over it's far--far too late, + To give notice of this and give notice of that. + Your attempts to be funny are amazing to see, + It's a dangerous venture to pose as a wit. + Though the voters of Boston _may_ love their M.P., + It _may_ end in their giving _you_ notice--to quit! + + * * * * * + +OUR BOOKING-OFFICE. + +[Illustration] + +_Short Papers in Magazines_.--"A starry night Is the shepherd's +delight," and as this sort of night is to the pastor, so are +short stories in Monthly Magazines to the Baron. Moreover, his +recommendation of them is, as he knows from numerous grateful +Correspondents, "a boon and a blessing" to such as follow his lead. He +owns to a partiality for the weird, and if he can come across a brief +"curdler," he at once singles it out for the delectation of those +whose taste is in the same direction. But no curdler has he come +across for some considerable time; but for short essays and tales +to be read by ladies in some quiet half-hour before toiletting or +untoiletting, or by the weaker sex in the smoking-room, the Baron +begs to commend "THACKERAY's Portraits of Himself," as interesting +to Thackerayans, and "A Maiden Speech," in _Murray_, for August, the +latter being rather too sketchy, though in its sketchiness artistic, +as, like _Sam Weller's_ love-letter, it makes you "wish as there was +more of it." + +Commended also by the Baron are "The Story of a Violin," by ERNEST +DOWSON, and "Heera Nund," by F.A. STEEL, in _Macmillan_. If "A First +Family of Tasajara" is continued as well as it is commenced in the +same above-mentioned Mac-azine, it will be about as good a tale as +BRET HARTE has ever written, and that is saying a good deal, mind you. + +Unfinished Stories--that is, Stories finished in style, yet, as +another contradiction in terms, short stories without any end, are +rather the vogue nowadays in Magazines. Let me recommend as specimens +"Francesca's Revenge" in _Blackwood_, and "Disillusioned" in _London +Society_. + +Don't tell the Baron that these hints are unappreciated. He knows +better. He can produce letters imploring him to read and notice, +letters asking him what to read, and letters complaining that his +advice is not more frequently given. Aware of this responsibility, he +never recommends what he has not himself read, or what some trusted +partner in the Firm of BARON DE BOOK-WORMS & Co. has not read for him. +_Verb. sap._ + +BARON DE BOOK-WORMS. + + * * * * * + +MISS DECIMA-HELYETT-SMITHSON-JACKSON. + +One or two of the especially well-informed dramatic critics who, of +course, had seen the original piece _Miss Helyett_ in Paris, asked +why the English adapter had taken the trouble to invent nine sisters +for the heroine; the nine sisters never being seen and having nothing +whatever to do with the plot. Here the well-informed ones were +to a certain extent wrong. In the original French piece, _Miss +Helyett_,--whose name, as is suggested by _Woman_, is evidently a +French rendering for "Miss ELLIOT," which M. BOUCHERON "concluded was +her Christian name"--speaking of herself, says to her father, "_Vous +savez bien, mon pere, que vous n'avez pas de plus grande admiratrice +que votre onzieme enfant._" And the Reverend SMITHSON tells her, a +little later, "_J'ai case toutes tes soeurs tres jeunes_--" and "_Je +ne devrais pourtant pas avoir de peine a trouver un onzieme gendre._" + +[Illustration: "Oh, shocking!!"] + +That is why he is travelling to get an "_onzieme gendre_" for his +"_onzieme enfant_." The English adapter relieved Mr. SMITHSON of one +of his family, and so _Miss Helyett Smithson_ became _Miss Decima +Jackson_, i.e., the tenth, instead of the eleventh, of the worthy +pastor's family. The fact that all her sisters are married, makes +single unblessedness a reproach to her. No sort of purpose would +have been served by such a wholesale massacre of innocents as the +extinction of all _Pastor Smithson's_, alias _Jackson's_, ten "pretty +chicks at one fell swoop." + +Miss NESVILLE, the foreign representative of _Miss Decima_ at the +Criterion, is uncommonly childlike and bland; moreover, she sings +charmingly; while of Mr. DAVID JAMES as the pastor _Jackson_ it may be +said, "Sure such a _pere_ was never seen!" The Irishman, Mr. CHAUNCEY +OLCOTT, has a mighty purty voice, and gains a hearty _encore_ for +a ditty of which the music is not particularly striking. Mr. PERCY +REEVE has written words which go glibly to AUDRAN's music, and fit +the situations. The piece is capitally played and sung all round; and +marvellous is Miss VICTOR as the Spanish mother. The _mise-en-scene_ +is far better here than it is in Paris, where this "musical-comedy" is +still an attraction. + + * * * * * + +HOW TO BE POPULAR. + +(_ADVICE TO AN ASPIRANT._) + + Dear sir, if you long for the love of a nation, + If you wish to be _feted_, applauded, caressed; + If you hope for receptions, and want an ovation, + By the populace cheered, by Town Councils addressed; + I can give you succinctly a certain receipt-- + Be detected at once and denounced as a cheat. + + It's as easy as lying; you eat all your cake, Sir, + And you have it as well, which was never a sin, + By adding a trifling amount to your stake, Sir, + When the points of the cards show you're certain to win. + You'll be slapped on the back by the "man in the street," + Who delights to sing paeans in praise of a cheat. + + They take the poor thief or the forger to jail, oh, + Where he cleans out his cell and picks oakum all day; + _You_ pose as a martyr and get a cheap halo + Ready-made by the public, with nothing to pay. + Believe me, dear Sir, there is nothing can beat + For triumph and joy the career of a cheat. + + * * * * * + +EXIT LA CLAQUE.--"_A partir d'apres demain samedi_," says the _Figaro_ +for August 6:--"M. LEMONNIER, _le Directeur d'ete et l'auteur de +Madame la Marechale, supprime le service de la claque a 'Ambigu_." +When _Madame la Marechale_ has finished her run, will the _claque_ +be re-admitted to start a new piece? This is snubbing your friends +in a time of prosperity. If the _claque_ has the courage of its +opinions--but stay, can a _claque_ have any opinions? No: it must +follow its leader; and its leader obeys orders. If ever any set of +men came into a theatre "with orders," the _claque_ is that set. Poor +_claque_! Summoned in adversity, banished in prosperity, why not do +away with it altogether, and trust to public expression of opinion for +applause? + + * * * * * + +NOTICE.--Rejected Communications or Contributions, whether MS., +Printed Matter, Drawings, or Pictures of any description, will in no +case be returned, not even when accompanied by a Stamped and Addressed +Envelope, Cover, or Wrapper. To this rule there will be no exception. + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Punch, or The London Charivari, Vol. +101, August 15, 1891, by Various + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PUNCH *** + +***** This file should be named 13491.txt or 13491.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/1/3/4/9/13491/ + +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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