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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/14272-0.txt b/14272-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..abc50b0 --- /dev/null +++ b/14272-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,1163 @@ +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 14272 *** + +PUNCH, + +OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. + +VOL. 102. + + + +January 30, 1892. + + + + +CONFESSIONS OF A DUFFER. + +III.--THE LITERARY DUFFER. + +[Illustration: "I have worn a cloak and a Tyrolese hat, and +attitudinised in the Picture-galleries."] + +Why I am not a success in literature it is difficult for me to tell; +indeed, I would give a good deal to anyone who would explain the +reason. The Publishers, and Editors, and Literary Men decline to tell +me _why_ they do not want my contributions. I am sure I have done +all that I can to succeed. When my Novel, _Geoffrey's Cousin_, comes +back from the Row, I do not lose heart--I pack it up, and send it off +again to the Square, and so, I may say, it goes the round. The very +manuscript attests the trouble I have taken. Parts of it are written +in my own hand, more in that of my housemaid, to whom I have dictated +passages; a good deal is in the hand of my wife. There are sentences +which I have written a dozen times, on the margins, with lines leading +up to them in red ink. The story is written on paper of all sorts and +sizes, and bits of paper are pasted on, here and there, containing +revised versions of incidents and dialogue. The whole packet is now +far from clean, and has a business-like and travelled air about it, +which should command respect. I always accompany it with a polite +letter, expressing my willingness to cut it down, or expand it, or +change the conclusion. Nobody can say that I am proud. But it always +comes back from the Publishers and Editors, without any explanation +as to why it will not do. This is what I resent as particularly hard. +The Publishers decline to tell me what their Readers have really said +about it. I have forwarded _Geoffrey's Cousin_ to at least five or six +notorious authors, with a letter, which runs thus:-- + + "DEAR SIR,--You will be surprised at receiving a letter from + a total stranger, but your well-known goodness of heart must + plead my excuse. I am aware that your time is much occupied, + but I am certain that you will spare enough of that valuable + commodity to glance through the accompanying MS. Novel, and + give me your frank opinion of it. Does it stand in need of + any alterations, and, if so, what? Would you mind having it + published _under your own name_, receiving one-third of the + profits? A speedy answer will greatly oblige." + +Would you believe it, _Mr. Punch_, not one of these over-rated and +overpaid men has ever given me any advice at all? Most of them +simply send back my parcel with no reply. One, however, wrote to say +that he received at least six such packets every week, and that his +engagements made it impossible for him to act as a guide, counsellor, +and friend to the amateurs of all England. He added that, if I +published the Novel at my own expense, the remarks of the public +critics would doubtless prove most valuable and salutary. + +This decided me; I _did_ publish, at my own expense, with Messrs. +SAUL, SAMUEL, MOSS & CO. I had to pay down £150, then £35 for +advertisements, then £70 for Publisher's Commission. Other expenses +fell grievously on me, as I sent round printed postcards to everyone +whose name is in the Red Book, asking them to ask for _Geoffrey's +Cousin_ at the Libraries. I also despatched six copies, with six +anonymous letters, to Mr. GLADSTONE, signing them, "A Literary +Constituent," "A Wavering Anabaptist," and so forth, but, +extraordinary to relate, I have received no answer, and no notice has +been taken of my disinterested presents. The reviews were of the most +meagre and scornful description. Messrs. SAUL, SAMUEL, Moss & Co. have +just written to me, begging me to remove the "remainder" of my book, +and charging £23 15s. 6d. for warehouse expenses. Yet, when I read +_Geoffrey's Cousin_, I fail to see that it falls, in any way, beneath +the general run of novels. I enclose a marked copy, and solicit your +earnest attention for the passage in which _Geoffrey's Cousin_ blights +his hopes for ever. The story, Sir, is one of controversy, and is +suited to this time. _Geoffrey McPhun_ is an Auld Licht (see Mr. +BARRIE's books, _passim_). His cousin is an Esoteric Buddhist. They +love each other dearly, but _Geoffrey_, a rigid character, cannot +marry any lady who does not burn, as an Auld Licht, "with a hard +gem-like flame." _Violet Blair_, his cousin, is just as staunch an +Esoteric Buddhist. Nothing stands between them but the differences of +their creed. + +"How can I contemplate, GEOFFREY," said VIOLET, with a rich blush, +"the possibility of seeing our little ones stray from the fold of the +Lama of Thibet into a chapel of the Original Secession Church?" + +They determine to try to convert each other. _Geoffrey_ lends _Violet_ +all his theological library, including WODROW's _Analecta_. She +lends him the learned works of Mr. SINNETT and Madame BLAVATSKY. They +retire, he to the Himalayas, she to Thrums, and their letters compose +Volume II. (Local colour _à la_ KIPLING and BARRIE.) On the slopes of +the Himalayas you see _Geoffrey_ converted; he becomes a Cheela, and +returns by overland route. He rushes to Ramsgate, and announces his +complete acceptance of the truth as it is in Mahatmaism. Alas! alas! +_Violet_ has been over-persuaded by the seductions of Presbyterianism, +she has hurried down from Thrums, rejoicing, a full-blown Auld Licht. +And, in her _Geoffrey_, she finds a convinced Esoteric Buddhist! They +are no better off than they were, their union is impossible, and Vol. +III. ends in their poignant anguish. + +Now, _Mr. Punch_, is not this the very novel for the times; rich in +adventure (in Kafiristan), teeming with philosophical suggestiveness, +and sparkling with all the epigrams of my commonplace book. Yet I am +about £300 out of pocket, and, moreover, a blighted being. + +I have taken every kind of pains; I have asked London Correspondents +to dinner; I have written flattering letters to everybody; I have +attempted to get up a deputation of Beloochis to myself; I have tried +to make people interview me; I have puffed myself in all the modes +which study and research can suggest. If anybody has, I have been "up +to date." But Fortune is my foe, and I see others flourish by the very +arts which fail in my hands. + +I mention my Novel because its failure really is a mystery. But I +am not at all more fortunate in the reception of my poetry. I have +tried it every way--ballades by the bale, sonnets by the dozen, loyal +odes, seditious songs, drawing-room poetry, an Epic on the history of +Labducuo, erotic verse, all fire, foam, and fangs, reflective ditto, +humble natural ballads about signal-men and newspaper-boys, Life-boat +rescues, Idyls, Nocturnes in rhyme, tragedies in blank verse. Nobody +will print them, or, if anybody prints them, he regrets that he +cannot pay for them. My moral and discursive essays are rejected, my +descriptions of nature do not even get into the newspapers. I have +not been elected by the Sydenham Club (a clique of humbugs); I have +let my hair grow long; I have worn a cloak and a Tyrolese hat, and +attitudinised in the picture-galleries, but nobody asked who I am. I +have endeavoured to hang on to well-known poets and novelists--they +have not welcomed my advances. + +My last dodge was a Satire, the _Logrolliad_, in which I lashed the +charlatans and pretenders of the day. + + While hoary statesmen scribble in reviews + And guide the doubtful verdict of the Blues, + While HAGGARD scrawls, with blood in lieu of ink, + While MALLOCK teaches Marquises to think, + +so long I have rhythmically expressed my design to wield the dripping +scourge of satire. But nobody seems a penny the worse, and I am not a +paragraph the better. Short stories of a startling description fill my +drawers, nobody will venture on one of them. I have closely imitated +every writer who succeeds, but my little barque may attendant sail, it +pursues the triumph, but does not partake the gale. + +I am now engaged on a Libretto for an heroic opera. + +What offers? + + * * * * * + +[Illustration: THE IMPERIAL JACK-IN-THE-BOX. + +_Chorus_ (_Everybody_). "EVERYTHING IN ORDER EVERYWHERE! O! WHAT A +SURPRISE! SOLD AGAIN!"] + + * * * * * + +THE IMPERIAL JACK-IN-THE-BOX. + +A SONG FOR THE SHOUTING EMPEROR. + +AIR--"_THE MAJOR-GENERAL._" + + I am the very pattern of a Modern German Emperor, + Omniscient and omnipotent, I ne'er give way to temper, or + If now and then I run a-muck in a Malay-like fashion, + As there's method in my madness, so there's purpose in my passion. + 'Tis my aim to manage _everything_ in order categorical-- + My fame as Cosmos-maker I intend shall be historical. + I know they call me _Paul Pry_, say I'm fussy and pragmatical-- + But that's because sheer moonshine always hates the mathematical. + I'm not content to "play the King" with an imperial pose in it-- + Whatever is marked "Private" I shall up and poke my nose in it. + +ALL. + + _He_ won't let drowsing dogs lie, he'll stir up the tabby sleeping Tom-- + In fact, he is the model of a modern German Peeping Tom! + + I bounce into the Ball-Room when they think I'm fast asleep at home, + And measure steps and skirts and things and mark what state folks keep + at home; + Watch the toilette of young Beauty on the very strictest Q.T. too, + Evangelise the Army and keep sentries to their duty, too, + On the Navy, and the Clergy, and the Schools, my wise eyes shoot lights, + Sir. + I'm awfully particular to regulate the footlights, Sir. + I preach sermons to my soldiers and arrange their "duds" and duels, too, + And tallow their poor noses, when they've colds, and mix their gruels, + too; + I'll make everybody moral, and obedient, and frugal, Sir-- + In fact I'm an Imperial edition of MCDOUGALL, Sir! + +ALL. + + He'd compel us to drink water and restrain us when to wed agog; + In fact he is the model of a Modern German pedagogue. + + I've all the god-like attributes, omniscient, ubiquitous, + I mean to squelch free impulse, which is commonly iniquitous. + But what's the good of being Chief Inspector of the Universe, + And prying into everything from pompous Law to puny verse, + If everything or nearly so, shows a confounded tendency + _To go right of its own accord_? My Masterful Resplendency + Would radiate aurorally, a world would gaze on trustingly + If only things in general wouldn't go on so disgustingly. + Where _is_ the pull of being Earth's Inspector autocratical, + When the Progress _I_'d be motor of seems mainly automatical? + +ALL. + + Hooray! My would-be Jupiter, a _parvenu_ is told again + He's not the true Olympian, Jack-in-the-Box is "Sold Again!!!" + + * * * * * + +"ARTIFICIAL OYSTER-CULTIVATION," read Mrs. R., as the heading of a par +in the _Times_. "Good gracious!" she exclaimed, "who on earth would +ever think of eating 'artificial oysters!'" + + * * * * * + +NOTHING is certain in this life except Death, Quarter Day and stoppage +for ten minutes at Swindon Station. + + * * * * * + +[Illustration: SO CONVENIENT! + +_Young Wife_. "WHERE ARE YOU GOING, REGGIE DEAR?" + +_Reggie Dear_. "ONLY TO THE CLUB, MY DARLING." + +_Young Wife_. "OH, I DON'T MIND THAT, BECAUSE THERE'S A TELEPHONE +THERE, AND I CAN TALK TO YOU THROUGH IT, CAN'T I?" + +_Reggie_. "Y-YES--BUT--ER--YOU KNOW, THE CONFOUNDED WIRES ARE ALWAYS +GETTING OUT OF ORDER!"] + + * * * * * + +PARLIAMENT À LA MODE DE PARIS. + + SCENE--_The Chamber during a Debate of an exciting character. + Member with a newspaper occupying the Tribune._ + +_Member_. I ask if the report in this paper is true? It calls the +Minister a scoundrel! [_Frantic applause._ + +_President_. I must interpose. It is not right that such a document +should be read. + +_Member_. But it is true. I hold in my hand this truth-telling sheet. +(_Shouts of_ "_Well done_!") This admirable journal describes +the Minister as a trickster, a man without a heart! [_Yells of +approbation._ + +_President_. I warn the Member that he is going too far. He is +outraging the public conscience. ["_Hear! hear_!" + +_Member_. It is you that outrage the public conscience. [_Sensation._ + +_President_. This is too much! If I hear another word of insult, I +will assume my hat. + + [_Profound and long-continued agitation._ + +_Member_. A hat is better than a turned coat! (_Thunders of +applause._) I say that this paper is full of wholesome things, and +that when it denounces the Minister as a good-for-nothing, as a +slanderer, as a thief--it does but its duty. + + [_Descends from the Tribune amidst tumultuous applause, and is + met by the Minister. Grand altercation, with results._ + +_Minister's Friends_. What have you done to him? + +_Minister_ (_with dignity_). I have avenged my honour--I have hit him +in the eye! + + [_Scene closes in upon the Minister receiving hearty + congratulations from all sides of the Chamber._ + + * * * * * + +PRESERVED VENICE. + +(_SPECIALLY IMPORTED FOR THE LONDON MARKET._) + +A SATURDAY NIGHT SCENE AT OLYMPIA. + +IN THE PROMENADE. + +_A Pessimistic Matron_ (_the usual beady and bugle-y female, who +takes all her pleasure as a penance_). Well, they may _call_ it +"Venice," but _I_ don't see no difference from what it was when +the Barnum Show was 'ere--except--(_regretfully_)--that then they +'ad the Freaks o' Nature, and Jumbo's skelinton! + +[Illustration: "I'm sure I'm 'ighly flattered, Mum, but I'm already +suited."] + +_Her Husband_ (_an Optimist--less from conviction than +contradiction_). There you go, MARIA, finding fault the minute you've +put your nose inside! We ain't _in_ Venice yet. It's up at the top o' +them steps. + +_The P.M._ Up all them stairs? Well, I 'ope it'll be worth seeing when +we _do_ get there, that's all! + +_An Attendant_ (_as she arrives at the top_). Not this door, +Ma'am--next entrance for Modern Venice. + +_The Opt. Husb._ You needn't go all the way down again, when the steps +join like that! + +_The P.M._ I'm not going to walk sideways--_I_'m not a crab, JOE, +whatever _you_ may think. (_JOE assents, with reservations_). Now +wherever have those other two got to? 'urrying off that way! Oh, +_there_ they are. 'Ere, LIZZIE and JEM, keep along o' me and Father, +do, or we shan't see half of what's to be seen! + +_Lizzie_. Oh, all right, Ma; don't you worry so! (_To JEM, her +fiancé_.) Don't those tall fellows look smart with the red feathers in +their cocked 'ats? What do they call _them_? + +_Jem_ (_a young man, who thinks for himself_). Well, I shouldn't +wonder if those were the parties they call "Doges"--sort o' police +over there, d'ye see? + +_Lizzie_. They're 'andsomer than 'elmets, I will say _that_ for them. +(_They enter Modern Venice, amidst cries of "This way for Gondoala +Tickets! Pass along, please! Keep to your right!"_ &c., &c.) It _does_ +have a foreign look, with all those queer names written up. Think it's +like what it is, JEM? + +_Jem_. Bound to be, with all the money they've spent on it. I daresay +they've idle-ised it a bit, though. + +_The P.M._ Where are all these kinals they talk so much about? I don't +see none! + +_Jem_ (_as a break in the crowd reveals a narrow olive-green +channel_). Why, what d'ye call _that_, Ma? + +_The P.M._ That a kinal! Why, you don't mean to tell me any barge +'ud-- + +_The Opt. Husb._ Go on!--you didn't suppose you'd find the Paddington +Canal in _these_ parts, did you? This is big enough for all +_they_ want. (_A gondola goes by lurchily, crowded with pot-hatted +passengers, smoking pipes, and wearing the uncomfortable smile of +children enjoying their first elephant-ride._) That's one o' these +'ere gondoalers--it's a rum-looking concern, ain't it? But I suppose +you get _used_ to 'em--(_philosophically_)--like everything else! + +_The P.M._ It gives me the creeps to look at 'em. Talk about +_'earses_! + +_The Opt. Husb._ Well, look 'ere, we've come out to enjoy +ourselves--what d'ye say to having a ride in one, eh? + +_The P.M._ You won't ketch me trusting _my_self in one o' them tituppy +things, so don't you deceive yourself! + +_The Opt. Husb._ Oh, it's on'y two foot o' warm water if you do +tip over. _Come_ on! (_Hailing Gondolier, who has just landed his +cargo._) 'Ere, 'ow much'll you take the lot of us for, hey? + +_Gondolier_ (_gesticulating_). Teekits! you tek teekits--là --you vait! + +_Jem_. He means we've got to go to the orfice and take tickets and +stand in a cue, d'yer see? + +_The P.M._ Me go and form a cue down there and get squeeged like at +the Adelphi Pit, all to set in a rickety gondoaler! I can see all _I_ +want to see without messing about in one o' them things! + +_The Others_. Well, I dunno as it's worth the extry sixpence, come to +think of it. (_They pass on, contentedly._) + +_Jem_. We're on the Rialto Bridge now, LIZZIE, d'ye see? The one in +SHAKSPEARE, _you_ know. + +_Lizzie_. That's the one they call the "Bridge o' Sighs," ain't it? +(_Hazily._) Is that because there's _shops_ on it? + +_Jem_. I dessay. Shops--or else suicides. + +_Lizzie_ (_more hazily than ever_). Ah, the same as the Monument. +(_They walk on with a sense of mental enlargement._) + +_Mrs. Lavender Salt_. It's wonderfully like the real thing, LAVENDER, +isn't it? Of course they can't _quite_ get the true Venetian +atmosphere! + +_Mr. L.S._ Well, MIMOSA, they'd have the Sanitary Authorities down on +them if they _did_, you know! + +_Mrs. L.S._ Oh, you're so horribly unromantic! But, LAVENDER, couldn't +we get one of those gondolas and go about. It would be so lovely to be +in one again, and fancy ourselves back in dear Venice, now _wouldn't_ +it? + +_Mr. L.S._ The illusion is cheap at sixpence; so come along, MIMOSA! + + [_He secures, tickets, and presently the LAVENDER SALTS, + find themselves part of a long queue, being marshalled + between barriers by Italian gendarmes in a state of politely + suppressed amusement._ + +_Mrs. L.S._ (_over her shoulder to her husband, as she imagines_). I'd +no idea we should have to go through all this! Must we really herd +in with all these people? Can't we two manage to get a gondola all to +ourselves? + +_A Voice_ (_not LAVENDER's--in her ear_). I'm sure I'm 'ighly +flattered, Mum, but I'm already suited; yn't I, DYSY? + + [_DYSY corroborates his statement with unnecessary emphasis._ + +_A Sturdy Democrat_ (_in front, over his shoulder_). Pity yer didn't +send word you was coming, Mum, and then they'd ha' kep' the place +clear of us common people for yer! [Mrs. L.S. _is sorry she spoke._ + + IN THE GONDOLA.--_Mr. and Mrs. L.S. are seated in the back + seat, supported on one side by the Humorous 'ARRY and his + Fiancée, and on the other by a pale, bloated youth, with a + particularly rank cigar, and the Sturdy Democrat, whose two + small boys occupy the seat in front._ + +_The St. Dem._ (_with malice aforethought_). If you two lads ain't +got room there, I dessay this lady won't mind takin' one of yer on her +lap. (_To Mrs. L.S., who is frozen with horror at the suggestion._) +They're 'umin beans, Mum, like yerself! + +_Mrs. L.S._ (_desperately ignoring her other neighbours_). Isn't that +lovely balcony there copied from the one at the Pisani, LAVENDER--or +is it the Contarini? I forget. + +_Mr. L.S._ Don't remember--got the Rialto rather well, haven't they? +I suppose that's intended for the dome of the Salute down there--not +quite the outline, though, if I remember right. And, if that's the +Campanile of St. Mark, the colour's too brown, eh? + +_The Hum. 'Arry_ (_with intention_). Oh, I sy, DYSY, yn't that the +Kempynoily of Kennington Oval, right oppersite? and 'aven't they got +the Grand Kinel in the Ole Kent Road proper, eh? + +_Dysy_ (_playing up to him, with enjoyment_). Jest 'aven't they! +On'y I don't quoite remember whether the colour o' them gas-lamps is +correct. But there, if we go on torkin' this w'y, other parties might +think we wanted to show orf! + +_Mrs. L.S._ Do you remember our _last_ gondola expedition, LAVENDER, +coming home from the Giudecca in that splendid sunset? + +_The Hum. A._ Recklect you and me roidin' 'ome from Walworth on a +rhinebow, DYSY, eh? + +_Chorus of Chaff from the bridges and terraces as they pass._ 'Ullo, +'ere comes another boat-load! 'Igher up, there!... Four-wheeler!... +Ain't that toff in the tall 'at enjoyin' himself? Quite a 'appy +funeral! &c., &c. + +_Mrs. L.S._ (_faintly, as they enter the Canal in front of the +Stage_). LAVENDER, dear, I really can't stand this _much_ longer! + +_Mr. L.S._ (_to the Bloated Youth_). Might I ask you, Sir, not to puff +your smoke in this lady's face--it's extremely unpleasant for her! + +_The B.Y._ All right, Mister, I'm always ready to oblige a +lydy--but--(_with wounded pride_)--as to its bein' _unpleasant_, yer +know, all _I_ can tell yer is--(_with sarcasm_)--that this 'appens to +be one of the best tuppeny smokes in 'Ammersmith! + +_Mr. L.S._ (_diplomatically_). I am sure of that--from the aroma, but +if you _could_ kindly postpone its enjoyment for a little while, we +should be extremely obliged! + +_The B.Y._ Well, I must keep it _aloive_, yer know. If there's anyone +'ere that understands cigars, they'll bear me out as it never smokes +the same when you once let it out. + + [_The other Passengers confirm him in this epicurean dictum, + whereupon he sucks the cigar at intervals behind Mrs. L.S.'s + back, during the remainder of the trip._ + +_Mr. L.S._ (_to Mrs. L.S. when they are alone again_). Well, MIMOSA, +illusion successful, eh? + +_Mrs. L.S._ Oh, _don't_! + + * * * * * + +[Illustration: ABOMINATIONS OF MODERN SCIENCE. + +MARIANA ARRIVES AT THE MOATED GRANGE (AFTER A LONG, DAMP JOURNEY) JUST +IN TIME TO DRESS FOR DINNER, AND FINDS, TO HER SORROW, THAT HER ROOM +IS WARMED BY HOT WATER PIPES AND LIGHTED BY ELECTRICITY.] + + * * * * * + +TO MY CIGARETTE. + +[Illustration] + + My own, my loved, my Cigarette, + My dainty joy disguised in tissue, + What fate can make your slave regret + The day when first he dared to kiss you? + + I had smoked briars, like to most + Who joy in smoking, and had been a + Too ready prey to those who boast + Their bonded stores of Reina Fina. + + In honeydew had steeped my soul + Had been of cherry pipes a cracker, + And watched the creamy meerschaum's bowl + Grow weekly, daily, hourly blacker. + + Read CALVERLEY and learnt by heart + The lines he celebrates the weed in; + And blew my smoke in rings, an art + That many try, but few succeed in. + + In fact of nearly every style + Of smoke I was a kindly critic, + Though I had found Manillas vile, + And Trichinopolis mephitic. + + The stout tobacco-jar became + Within my smoking-room a fixture; + I heard my friends extol by name + Each one his own peculiar mixture. + + And tried them every one in turn + (_O varium, tobacco, semper_!); + The strong I found too apt to burn + My tongue, the week to try my temper. + + And all were failures, and I grew + More tentative and undecided, + Consulted friends, and found they knew + As little as or less than I did. + + Havannah yielded up her pick + Of prime cigars to my fruition; + I bought a case, and some went "sick." + The rest were never in condition. + + Until in sheer fatigue I turned + To you, tobacco's white-robed tyro, + And from your golden legend learned + Your maker dwelt and wrought in Cairo. + + O worshipped wheresoe'er I roam, + As fondly as a wife by some is, + Waif from the far Egyptian home + Of Pharaohs, crocodiles, and mummies; + + Beloved, in spite of jeer and frown; + The more the Philistines assail you, + The more the doctors run you down, + The more I puff you--and inhale you. + + Though worn with toil and vexed with strife + (Ye smokers all, attend and hear me), + Undaunted still I live my life, + With you, my Cigarette, to cheer me. + + * * * * * + +[Illustration: SOMETHING WRONG SOMEWHERE. + +"HOW CHARMING YOU LOOK, DEAR MRS. BELLAMY--AS USUAL! _WOULD_ YOU MIND +TELLING ME WHO MAKES YOUR LOVELY FROCKS? I'M _SO_ DISSATISFIED WITH MY +DRESSMAKER!" + +"OH, CERTAINLY. MRS. CHIFFONNETTE, OF BOND STREET." + +"CHIFFONNETTE! WHY, I'VE BEEN TO HER FOR YEARS! THE WRETCH! I WONDER +WHY SHE SUITS YOU SO MUCH BETTER, NOW!"] + + * * * * * + +A TALK OVER THE TUB; + +_OR, LEGAL LAUNDRESSES IN COUNCIL._ + + ["The whole legal machinery is out of gear, and the country is + too busy to put it right."--_Law Times_.] + +_A LEADING LAUNDRESS._ + + Wich I say, Missis 'ALSBURY, Mum, + We are all getting into a quand'ry; + You and me can no longer be dumb, + Seein' how we're the heads of the Laundry: + It is all very well to stand 'ere, + Sooperintending the soaping and rinsing; + Old pleas for delay, I much fear, + Are no longer entirely conwincing. + Just look at the Linen--in 'eaps! + And no one can say it ain't dirty! + Our clients, a-grumbling they keeps, + And some of 'em seem getting shirty. + Wotever, my dear, shall we do? + Two parties 'as axed me that question; + And now I just puts it to _you_, + And I 'ope you can make some suggestion. + +_HEAD LAUNDRESS._ + + My dear Missis COLEY, I own + _I_ ain't heard from the parties you 'int at. + But them Linen-'eaps certny _has_ grown, + Wich their bulk I 'ave just took a squint at. + We sud, and we rub, and we scrub. + And the pile 'ardly seems to diminish. + It tires us poor Slaves of the Tub, + And the doose only knows when we'll finish, + +_A LEADING LAUNDRESS._ + + Percisely, my dear, but it's _that_, + As the Public insists upon knowin', + Missis MATHEW 'as told me so, pat, + Wich likeways 'as good Missis BOWEN. + You can't floor their argyments, quite, + 'Owsomever you twirl 'em or 'twist 'em; + They say, and I fear they are right, + There is somethink all wrong with our System! + +_HEAD LAUNDRESS._ + + _Our_ System! Well, well, my good soul, + You know 'twasn't _us_ as inwented it. + We wouldn't have got into this 'ole, + If _you_ and _me_ could 'ave perwented it. + I know there's no end of a block, + That expenses is running up awfully; + The sight of it gives me a shock, + But 'ow can we alter it--_lawfully_? + +_A LEADING LAUNDRESS._ + + I fear, Mum, I very much fear, + That word doesn't strike so much terror + As once on the dull public ear; + Times change. Mum, they do, make no error! + Our clients complain of the cost, + And lots of Commercials is leaving us. + I think, Mum, afore more is lost, + We had best own the block is--well grieving us! + +_HEAD LAUNDRESS._ + + There can't be no 'arm, dear, in _that_. + Let's write to the papers and 'int it. + I know with your pen you are pat, + And the _Times_ will be 'appy to print it. + If we are to git through _that_ lot, + We must 'ave some more 'elp--that's my notion! + Let's strike whilst the iron is 'ot, + The Public may trust our dewotion. + We'll call the chief Laundresses round; + Some way we no doubt shall discover. + At least, dear, 'twill 'ave a good sound, + If we meet, and--well _talk the thing over!_ + + [_Left doing so._ + + * * * * * + +A MENU FROM HATFIELD. + +POTAGES. + +Consommé de Neveu aux Balles de Golf. +Au Jo poché. + +ENTRÉES. + +Suprême de Livres Bleus. +Irlandais Sauvages en Culottes. +Filou Mignon Randolph, Sauce Tartarin. +Dégoût de Goschen à la Financière. + +RÔTS. + +Canards Portuguais. +Entrecôte d'Afrique à l'Allemande. + +RELEVÉS. + +Terrine de Fermes Vendues à la Parnell. +Pâté de Loi à l'Ordre Publique. + +LÉGUMES. + +Petits Soupçons Français, Sauce Égyptienne. +Vêpres Ceçiliennes. + +ENTREMETS. + +Absorbé de Birmingham. +Succès de Whitehall aux Affaires Étrangères. + +DESSERT. + +Amendes Parlementaires. +Raisons de Plus en Défaites. + + * * * * * + +[Illustration: "SHORT 'ANDED." + +MRS. H-LSB-RY. "I TELL YOU WHAT IT IS, MRS. COLEY, MUM,--IF ALL THIS +'ERE DIRTY LINEN'S TO BE GOT THROUGH, WE MUST 'AVE _'ELP_, MUM!!"] + + * * * * * + +"THE MUSIC IN OUR STREET." + +(_A WORD FROM A GIRL WHO LIVES IN IT._) + +[Illustration] + + Did you ever 'ear our music? What, never? _There_'s a shame; + I tell yer it's golopshus, we do 'ave such a game. + When the sun's a-shinin' brightly, when the fog's upon the town, + When the frost 'as bust the water-pipes, when rain comes pourin' down; + In the mornin' when the costers come a-shoutin' with their mokes, + In the evenin' when the gals walk out a-spoonin' with their blokes, + When Mother's slappin' BILLY, or when Father wants 'is tea, + When the boys are in the "Spotted Dog" a 'avin' of a spree, + No matter what the weather is, or what the time o' day, + _Our_ music allus visits us, and never goes away. + And when they've tooned theirselves to-rights, I tell yer it's a treat + Just to listen to the lot of 'em a-playin' in our street. + + There's a chap as turns the orgin--the best I ever 'eard-- + Oh lor' he does just jabber, but you can't make out a word. + I can't abear Italians, as allus uses knives, + And talks a furrin lingo all their miserable lives. + But this one calls me BELLA--which my Christian name is SUE-- + And 'e smiles and turns 'is orgin very proper, that he do. + Sometimes 'e plays a polker and sometimes it's a march, + And I see 'is teeth all shinin' through 'is lovely black mustarch. + And the little uns dance round him, you'd laugh until you cried + If you saw my little brothers do their 'ornpipes side by side, + And the gals they spin about as well, and don't they move their feet, + When they 'ear that pianner-orgin man, as plays about our street. + + There's a feller plays a cornet too, and wears a ulster coat, + My eye, 'e does puff out 'is cheeks a-tryin' for 'is note. + It seems to go right through yer, and, oh, it's right-down rare + When 'e gives us "_Annie Laurie_" or "_Sweet Spirit, 'ear my Prayer_"; + 'E's so stout that when 'e's blowin' 'ard you think 'e must go pop; + And 'is nose is like the lamp (what's red) outside a chemist's shop. + And another blows the penny-pipe,--I allus thinks it's thin, + And I much prefers the cornet when 'e ain't bin drinkin' gin. + And there's Concertina-JIMMY, it makes yer want to shout + When 'e acts just like a windmill and waves 'is arms about. + Oh, I'll lay you 'alf a tanner, you'll find it 'ard to beat + The good old 'eaps of music that they gives us in our street. + + And a pore old ragged party, whose shawl is shockin' torn, + She sings to suit 'er 'usband while 'e plays on so forlorn. + 'Er voice is dreadful wheezy, and I can't exactly say + I like 'er style of singin' "_Tommy Dodd_" or "_Nancy Gray_." + But there, she does 'er best, I'm sure; I musn't run 'er down, + When she's only tryin' all she can to earn a honest brown. + Still, though I'm mad to 'ear 'em play, and sometimes join the dance, + I often wish one music gave the other kind a chance. + The orgin might have two days, and the cornet take a third, + While the pipe-man tried o' Thursdays 'ow to imitate a bird. + But they allus comes together, singin' playin' as they meet + With their pipes and 'orns and orgins in the middle of our street. + + But there, I can't stand chatterin', pore mother's mortal bad, + And she's got to work the whole day long to keep things straight for dad. + Complain? Not she. She scrubs and rubs with all 'er might and main, + And the lot's no sooner finished but she's got to start again. + There's a patch for JOHNNY's jacket, a darn for BILLY's socks, + And an hour or so o' needlework a mendin' POLLY's frocks; + With floors to wash, and plates to clean, she'd soon be skin and bone + ('Er cough's that aggravatin') if she did it all alone. + There'll be music while we're workin' to keep us on the go-- + I like my tunes as fast as fast, pore mother likes 'em slow-- + Ah! we don't get much to laugh at, nor yet too much to eat, + And the music stops us thinkin' when they play it in the street. + + * * * * * + +"MARIE, COME UP!"--When Miss MARIE LLOYD, who, unprofessionally, when +at home, is known as Mrs. PERCY COURTENAY, which her Christian name is +MATILDA, recently appeared at Bow-Street Police Court, having summoned +her husband for an assault, the Magistrate, Mr. LUSHINGTON, ought +to have called on the Complainant to sing "_Whacky, Whacky, Whack!_" +which would have come in most appropriately. Let us hope that the +pair will make it up, and, as the story-books say, "live happily ever +afterwards." + + * * * * * + +NIGHT LIGHTS.--Rumour has it that certain Chorus Ladies have objected +to wearing electric glow-lamps in their hair. Was it for fear of +becoming too light-headed? + + * * * * * + +[Illustration: THE POLITICAL WIREPULLER AT WORK.] + + * * * * * + +POLITE LITERATURE. + +DEAR MR. PUNCH,--Having seen in the pages of one of your +contemporaries several deeply interesting letters telling of "the +Courtesy of the CAVENDISH," I think it will be pleasing to your +readers to learn that I have a fund of anecdote concerning the +politeness--the true politeness--of many other members of the Peerage. +Perhaps you will permit me to give you a few instances of what I may +call aristocratic amiability. + +On one occasion the Duke of DITCHWATER and a Lady entered the same +omnibus simultaneously. There was but one seat, and noticing that +His Grace was standing, I called attention to the fact. "Certainly," +replied His Grace, with a quiet smile, "but if I had sat down, the +Lady would not have enjoyed her present satisfactory position!" The +Lady herself had taken the until then vacant place! + +Shortly afterwards I met Viscount VERMILION walking in an opposite +direction to the path I myself was pursuing. "My Lord," I murmured, +removing my hat, "I was quite prepared to step into the gutter." "It +was unnecessary," returned his Lordship, graciously, "for as the path +was wide, there was room enough for both of us to pass on the same +pavement!" + +On a very wet evening I saw My Lord TOMNODDICOMB coming from a shop +in Piccadilly. Noticing that his Lordship had no defence against the +weather, I ventured to offer the Peer my _parapluie_. + +[Illustration] + +"Please let me get into my carriage," observed his Lordship. Then +discovering, from my bowing attitude, that I meant no insolence by my +suggestion, he added,--"And as for your umbrella--surely on this rainy +night you can make use of it yourself?" + +Yet again. The Marchioness of LOAMSHIRE was on the point of crossing a +puddle. + +Naturally I divested myself of my greatcoat, and threw it as a bridge +across her Ladyship's dirty walk. + +The Marchioness smiled, but her Ladyship has never forgotten the +circumstance, and I have the coat still by me. + +And yet some people declare that the wives of Members of the House of +Lords are wanting in consideration! + +Believe me, dear _Mr. Punch_, + +Yours enthusiastically, S. NOB. + +_The Cringeries, Low Booington_. + + * * * * * + +NOTICE--No. XXV. of "Travelling Companions" next week. + + * * * * * + +[Illustration: FANCY PORTRAIT. + +SEÑOR DRUMMONDO WOLFFEZ, REPRESENTING THE JOHN BULLFIGHTER AT MADRID. + +_"TORÉADOR CONTENTO!"_] + + * * * * * + +THE JUDGES IN COUNCIL. + + ["All the judicial wisdom of the Supreme Court has met in + solemn and secret conclave, heralded by letters from the heads + of the Bench, admitting serious evils in the working of the + High Court of Justice; a full working day was appropriated for + the occasion; the learned Judges met at 11 A.M. (nominally) + and rose promptly for luncheon, and for the day, at 1·30 + P.M. Two-and-a-half hours' work, during which each of the + twenty-eight judicial personages no doubt devoted all his + faculties and experience to the discovery, discussion, and + removal of the admittedly numerous defects in the working of + the Judicature Acts! Two-and-a-half hours, which might have + been stolen from the relaxations of a Saturday afternoon! + Two-and-a-half hours, for which the taxpayers of the United + Kingdom pay some eight hundred guineas! Truly the spectacle + is eminently calculated to inspire the country with confidence + and hopes of reform."--_Extract from Letter to the Times._] + + SCENE--_A Room at the Royal Courts. Lord CHANCELLOR, Lord + CHIEF JUSTICE, MASTER of the ROLLS, Lords Justices, Justices._ + +_L.C._ Well, I'm very glad to see you all looking so well, but can +anyone tell me why we've met at all? + +_L.C.J._ Talking of meetings, do you remember that Exeter story dear +old JACK TOMPKINS used to tell on the Western Circuit? + +[Illustration: Fee-simple.] + + [_Proceeds to tell JACK TOMPKINS's story at great length to + great interest of Chancery Judges._ + +_M.R._ (_who has listened with marked impatience_). Why, my dear +fellow, it isn't a Western Circuit story at all. It was on the +Northern Circuit at Appleby. + + [_Proceeds to tell the same story all over again, substituting + Appleby for Exeter. At the conclusion of story, Great laughter + from Chancery Judges. Common Law Judges look bored, having + all told same story on and about their own Circuits._ + +_L.C._ Very good--very good--used to tell it myself on the South Wales +Circuit--but what have we met for? + +_Lord Justice A._ I say, what do you think about this +cross-examination fuss? It seems to me-- + +_L.C.J._ Talking of cross-examination--do you fellows remember the +excellent story dear old JOHNNIE BROWBEAT used to tell about the +Launceston election petition? + + [_Proceeds to tell story in much detail. L.C. looks + uncomfortable at its conclusion_. + +_M.R._ (_cutting in_). Why, my dear fellow, it wasn't Launceston at +all, it was Lancaster, and-- + + [_Tells story all over again to the Chancery Judges._ + +_L.C._ Yes--excellent. I thought it took place at Chester--but really, +now, we must get to business. So, first of all, will anyone kindly +tell me what the business is? + +_Mr. Justice A._ (_a very young Judge_). Well, the fact is, I believe +the Public-- + +_Chorus of Judges_. The what? + +_Mr. Justice A._ (_with hesitation_). Why--I was going to say there +seems to be a sort of discontent amongst the Public-- + +_L.C._ (_with dignity_). Really, really--what have we to do with the +Public? But in case there should be any truth in this extraordinary +statement, I think we might as well appoint a Committee to look into +it, and then we can meet again some day and hear what it is all about. + +_L.C.J._ Yes, a Committee by all means; the smaller the better. "Too +many cooks," as dear old HORACE puts it. + +_M.R._ Talking of cooks, isn't it about lunch time? + + [_General consensus of opinion in favour of lunching. As + they adjourn, L.C.J. detains Chancery Judges to tell them a + story about something that happened at Bodmin, and, to prevent + mistakes, tells it in West Country dialect. M.R. immediately + repeats it in strong Yorkshire, and lays the venue at + Bradford. Result; that the whole of HER MAJESTY's Courts in + London were closed for one day._ + + * * * * * + +THE LAY OF THE LITIGANT. + +(_AFTER HOOD. ALSO AFTER COLERIDGE'S (C.J.) LETTER TO THE LORD +CHANCELLOR ON THE DECAY OF LEGAL BUSINESS._) + + I remember, I remember + The Law when I was born, + The Serjeants, brothers of the coif, + The Judges dead and gone. + The Judicature Acts to them + Were utterly unknown; + It was a fearful ignorance-- + Oh, would it were my own! + + I remember, I remember + The worthy "Proctor" race, + The "Posteas," and the "Elegits," + The "Actions on the Case." + The "Error" each Attorney's Clerk + Did wilfully abet, + The days of "Bills" in Equity-- + _Some_ bills are living yet! + + I remember, I remember + The years of "_Jarndyce_" jaw, + The lively game of shuttlecock + 'Twixt Equity and Law. + Tribunals then were "Courts" indeed + That are "Divisions" now, + And Silken Gowns have feared the frowns + Upon a "Baron's" brow. + + We remember, we remember + The flourishing of trumps, + When Parliament took up our wrongs, + And manned the legal pumps. + Those noble Acts (they said) would end + Obstructions and delay, + And ne'er again would litigants + The piper have to pay. + + I remember, I remember + Expenses, mountains high; + I used to think, when duly "taxed," + They'd vanish by-and-by. + It was a foolish confidence, + But now 'tis little joy + To know that Law's as slow and dear + As when I was a boy! + + * * * * * + +THE HERO OF THE SUMMER SALE. + +(_BY OUR OWN PRIVATE AND CONFIDENTIAL POETESS_.) + +[Illustration] + + I would I loved some belted Earl, + Some Baronet, or K.C.B., + But I'm a most unhappy girl, + And no such luck's in store for me! + I would I loved some Soldier bold, + Who leads his troops where cannons pop, + But if the bitter truth be told-- + I love a man who walks a shop! + For oh! a King of Men is he-- + With princely strut and stiffened spine-- + So his, and his alone, shall be, + This fondly foolish heart of mine! + + On Remnant Days--from morn till night, + When blows fall fast, and words run high, + When frenzied females fiercely fight + For bargains that they long to buy-- + From hot attack he does not flinch, + But stands his ground with visage pale, + And all the time looks every inch + The Hero of that Summer Sale! + For oh! a King of Men is he-- + Whom shop-assistants call to "Sign!" + So his, and his alone, shall be + This fondly foolish heart of mine! + + * * * * * + +MONDAY, _Jan._ 18, 1892. "Bath and West of England's Society's Cheese +School at Frome." Of this School, the _Times_, judging by results, +speaks highly of "the practical character of the instruction given +at the School." This is a bad look-out for Eton and Harrow, not +to say for Winchester and Westminster also. All parents who wish +their children to be "quite the cheese" in Society generally, and +particularly for Bath and the West of England, where, of course, +Society is remarkably exclusive, cannot do better, it is evident, +than send them to the Bath and West of England Cheese School. + + * * * * * + +ON THE TRAILL.--It is suggested that in future M.P. should stand for +Minor Poet. Would this satisfy Mr. LEWIS MORRIS? Or would he insist on +being gazetted as a Major? + + * * * * * + +OUR BOOKING-OFFICE. + +[Illustration: The following Page.] + +One of the Baron's Deputy-Readers has been looking through Mr. +G.W. HENLEY's _Lyra Heroica; a Book of Verse for Boys_. DAVID NUTT, +London.) This is his appreciation:--Mr. HENLEY has tacked his name +to a collection which contains some noble poems, some (but not much) +trash, and a good many pieces, which, however poetical they may be, +are certainly not heroic, seeing that they do not express "the simpler +sentiments, and the more elemental emotions" (I use Mr. HENLEY's +prefatory words), and are scarcely the sort of verse that boys are +likely, or ought to care about. To be sure, Mr. HENLEY guards himself +on the score of his "personal equation"--I trust his boys understand +what he means. My own personal equation makes me doubt whether Mr. +HENLEY has done well in including such pieces as, for instance, +HERBERT's "_Memento Mori_," CURRAN's "_The Deserter_," SWINBURNE's +"_The Oblation_," and ALFRED AUSTIN's "_Is Life Worth Living_?" If Mr. +HENLEY, or anybody else who happens to possess a personal equation, +will point out to me the heroic quality in these poems, I shall feel +deeply grateful. And how, in the name of all that is or ever was +heroic, has "_Auld Lang Syne_" crept into this collection of heroic +verse? As for Mr. ALFRED AUSTIN, I cannot think by what right he +secures a place in such a compilation. I have rarely read a piece +of his which did not contain at least one glaring infelicity. In +"_Is Life Worth Living_?" he tells us of "blithe herds," which (in +compliance with the obvious necessities of rhyme, but for no other +reason) + + "Wend homeward with unweary feet, + Carolling like the birds." + +Further on we find that + + "England's trident-sceptre roams + Her territorial seas," + +merely because the unfortunate sceptre has to rhyme somehow to +"English homes." + +But I have a further complaint against Mr. HENLEY. He presumes, in the +most fantastic manner, to alter the well-known titles of celebrated +poems. "_The Isles of Greece_" is made to masquerade as "The Glory +that was Greece"; "_Auld Lang Syne_" becomes "The Goal of Life," and +"_Tom Bowline_" is converted into "The Perfect Sailor." This surely +(again I use the words of Mr. HENLEY) "is a thing preposterous, and +distraught." On the whole, I cannot think that Mr. HENLEY has done +his part well. His manner is bad. His selection, it seems to me, is +open to grave censure, on broader grounds than the mere personally +equational of which he speaks, and his choppings, and sub-titles, +and so forth, are not commendable. The irony of literary history has +apparently ordained that Mr. HENLEY should first patronise, and then +"cut," both CAMPBELL and MACAULAY. Was the shade of MACAULAY disturbed +when he learnt that Mr. HENLEY considered his "_Battle of Naseby_" +both "vicious and ugly"? + +BARON DE BOOK-WORMS & CO. + + * * * * * + +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, Volume +102, January 30, 1892, by Various + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 14272 *** diff --git a/14272-h/14272-h.htm b/14272-h/14272-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d529e7e --- /dev/null +++ b/14272-h/14272-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,1942 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Transitional//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-transitional.dtd"> + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml"> +<head> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" + content="text/html; charset=UTF-8" /> + + <title>Punch, January 30, 1892.</title> + <style type="text/css"> + /*<![CDATA[*/ + + <!-- + body {margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + p {text-align: justify;} + blockquote {text-align: justify;} + h1,h2,h3,h4,h5,h6 {text-align: center;} + pre {font-size: 0.7em;} + + hr {text-align: center; width: 50%;} + html>body hr {margin-right: 25%; margin-left: 25%; width: 50%;} + hr.full {width: 100%;} + html>body hr.full {margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 0%; width: 100%;} + hr.short {text-align: center; width: 20%;} + html>body hr.short {margin-right: 40%; margin-left: 40%; width: 20%;} + + .note, .footnote {margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-size: 0.9em;} + + span.pagenum + {position: absolute; left: 1%; right: 91%; font-size: 8pt;} + + .poem + {margin-left:10%; margin-right:10%; margin-bottom: 1em; text-align: left;} + .poem .stanza {margin: 1em 0em 1em 0em;} + .poem p {margin: 0; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + .poem p.i2 {margin-left: 1em;} + .poem p.i4 {margin-left: 2em;} + .poem p.i6 {margin-left: 3em;} + .poem p.i8 {margin-left: 4em;} + .poem p.i10 {margin-left: 5em;} + + .figure, .figcenter, .figright, .figleft + {padding: 1em; margin: 0; text-align: center; font-size: 0.8em;} + .figure img, .figcenter img, .figright img, .figleft img + {border: none;} + .figure p, .figcenter p, .figright p, .figleft p + {margin: 0; text-indent: 1em;} + .figcenter {margin: auto;} + .figright {float: right;} + .figleft {float: left;} + + p.author {text-align: right;} + + --> + /*]]>*/ + </style> +</head> + +<body> +<div>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 14272 ***</div> + + <h1>PUNCH,<br /> + OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.</h1> + + <h2>Vol. 102.</h2> + <hr class="full" /> + + <h2>January 30, 1892.</h2> + <hr class="full" /> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page49" + id="page49"></a>[pg 49]</span> + + <h2>CONFESSIONS OF A DUFFER.</h2> + + <h3>III.—THE LITERARY DUFFER.</h3> + + <div class="figright" + style="width:50%;"> + <a href="images/49.png"><img width="100%" + src="images/49.png" + alt="'I have worn a cloak and a Tyrolese hat, and attitudinised in the Picture-galleries.'" /> + </a>"I have worn a cloak and a Tyrolese hat, and + attitudinised in the Picture-galleries." + </div> + + <p>Why I am not a success in literature it is difficult for me + to tell; indeed, I would give a good deal to anyone who would + explain the reason. The Publishers, and Editors, and Literary + Men decline to tell me <i>why</i> they do not want my + contributions. I am sure I have done all that I can to succeed. + When my Novel, <i>Geoffrey's Cousin</i>, comes back from the + Row, I do not lose heart—I pack it up, and send it off + again to the Square, and so, I may say, it goes the round. The + very manuscript attests the trouble I have taken. Parts of it + are written in my own hand, more in that of my housemaid, to + whom I have dictated passages; a good deal is in the hand of my + wife. There are sentences which I have written a dozen times, + on the margins, with lines leading up to them in red ink. The + story is written on paper of all sorts and sizes, and bits of + paper are pasted on, here and there, containing revised + versions of incidents and dialogue. The whole packet is now far + from clean, and has a business-like and travelled air about it, + which should command respect. I always accompany it with a + polite letter, expressing my willingness to cut it down, or + expand it, or change the conclusion. Nobody can say that I am + proud. But it always comes back from the Publishers and + Editors, without any explanation as to why it will not do. This + is what I resent as particularly hard. The Publishers decline + to tell me what their Readers have really said about it. I have + forwarded <i>Geoffrey's Cousin</i> to at least five or six + notorious authors, with a letter, which runs thus:—</p> + + <blockquote> + <p>"DEAR SIR,—You will be surprised at receiving a + letter from a total stranger, but your well-known goodness + of heart must plead my excuse. I am aware that your time is + much occupied, but I am certain that you will spare enough + of that valuable commodity to glance through the + accompanying MS. Novel, and give me your frank opinion of + it. Does it stand in need of any alterations, and, if so, + what? Would you mind having it published <i>under your own + name</i>, receiving one-third of the profits? A speedy + answer will greatly oblige."</p> + </blockquote> + + <p>Would you believe it, <i>Mr. Punch</i>, not one of these + over-rated and overpaid men has ever given me any advice at + all? Most of them simply send back my parcel with no reply. + One, however, wrote to say that he received at least six such + packets every week, and that his engagements made it impossible + for him to act as a guide, counsellor, and friend to the + amateurs of all England. He added that, if I published the + Novel at my own expense, the remarks of the public critics + would doubtless prove most valuable and salutary.</p> + + <p>This decided me; I <i>did</i> publish, at my own expense, + with Messrs. SAUL, SAMUEL, MOSS & CO. I had to pay down + £150, then £35 for advertisements, then £70 for Publisher's + Commission. Other expenses fell grievously on me, as I sent + round printed postcards to everyone whose name is in the Red + Book, asking them to ask for <i>Geoffrey's Cousin</i> at the + Libraries. I also despatched six copies, with six anonymous + letters, to Mr. GLADSTONE, signing them, "A Literary + Constituent," "A Wavering Anabaptist," and so forth, but, + extraordinary to relate, I have received no answer, and no + notice has been taken of my disinterested presents. The reviews + were of the most meagre and scornful description. Messrs. SAUL, + SAMUEL, Moss & Co. have just written to me, begging me to + remove the "remainder" of my book, and charging £23 + 15<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i> for warehouse expenses. Yet, when I + read <i>Geoffrey's Cousin</i>, I fail to see that it falls, in + any way, beneath the general run of novels. I enclose a marked + copy, and solicit your earnest attention for the passage in + which <i>Geoffrey's Cousin</i> blights his hopes for ever. The + story, Sir, is one of controversy, and is suited to this time. + <i>Geoffrey McPhun</i> is an Auld Licht (see Mr. BARRIE's + books, <i>passim</i>). His cousin is an Esoteric Buddhist. They + love each other dearly, but <i>Geoffrey</i>, a rigid character, + cannot marry any lady who does not burn, as an Auld Licht, + "with a hard gem-like flame." <i>Violet Blair</i>, his cousin, + is just as staunch an Esoteric Buddhist. Nothing stands between + them but the differences of their creed.</p> + + <p>"How can I contemplate, GEOFFREY," said VIOLET, with a rich + blush, "the possibility of seeing our little ones stray from + the fold of the Lama of Thibet into a chapel of the Original + Secession Church?"</p> + + <p>They determine to try to convert each other. <i>Geoffrey</i> + lends <i>Violet</i> all his theological library, including + WODROW's <i>Analecta</i>. She lends him the learned works of + Mr. SINNETT and Madame BLAVATSKY. They retire, he to the + Himalayas, she to Thrums, and their letters compose Volume II. + (Local colour <i>à la</i> KIPLING and BARRIE.) On the slopes of + the Himalayas you see <i>Geoffrey</i> converted; he becomes a + Cheela, and returns by overland route. He rushes to Ramsgate, + and announces his complete acceptance of the truth as it is in + Mahatmaism. Alas! alas! <i>Violet</i> has been over-persuaded + by the seductions of Presbyterianism, she has hurried down from + Thrums, rejoicing, a full-blown Auld Licht. And, in her + <i>Geoffrey</i>, she finds a convinced Esoteric Buddhist! They + are no better off than they were, their union is impossible, + and Vol. III. ends in their poignant anguish.</p> + + <p>Now, <i>Mr. Punch</i>, is not this the very novel for the + times; rich in adventure (in Kafiristan), teeming with + philosophical suggestiveness, and sparkling with all the + epigrams of my commonplace book. Yet I am about £300 out of + pocket, and, moreover, a blighted being.</p> + + <p>I have taken every kind of pains; I have asked London + Correspondents to dinner; I have written flattering letters to + everybody; I have attempted to get up a deputation of Beloochis + to myself; I have tried to make people interview me; I have + puffed myself in all the modes which study and research can + suggest. If anybody has, I have been "up to date." But Fortune + is my foe, and I see others flourish by the very arts which + fail in my hands.</p> + + <p>I mention my Novel because its failure really is a mystery. + But I am not at all more fortunate in the reception of my + poetry. I have tried it every way—ballades by the bale, + sonnets by the dozen, loyal odes, seditious songs, drawing-room + poetry, an Epic on the history of Labducuo, erotic verse, all + fire, foam, and fangs, reflective ditto, humble natural ballads + about signal-men and newspaper-boys, Life-boat rescues, Idyls, + Nocturnes in rhyme, tragedies in blank verse. Nobody will print + them, or, if anybody prints them, he regrets that he cannot pay + for them. My moral and discursive essays are rejected, my + descriptions of nature do not even get into the newspapers. I + have not been elected by the Sydenham Club (a clique of + humbugs); I have let my hair grow long; I have worn a cloak and + a Tyrolese hat, and attitudinised in the picture-galleries, but + nobody asked who I am. I have endeavoured to hang on to + well-known poets and novelists—they have not welcomed my + advances.</p> + + <p>My last dodge was a Satire, the <i>Logrolliad</i>, in which + I lashed the charlatans and pretenders of the day.</p> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>While hoary statesmen scribble in reviews</p> + + <p>And guide the doubtful verdict of the Blues,</p> + + <p>While HAGGARD scrawls, with blood in lieu of + ink,</p> + + <p>While MALLOCK teaches Marquises to think,</p> + </div> + </div> + + <p>so long I have rhythmically expressed my design to wield the + dripping scourge of satire. But nobody seems a penny the worse, + and I am not a paragraph the better. Short stories of a + startling description fill my drawers, nobody will venture on + one of them. I have closely imitated every writer who succeeds, + but my little barque may attendant sail, it pursues the + triumph, but does not partake the gale.</p> + + <p>I am now engaged on a Libretto for an heroic opera.</p> + + <p>What offers?</p> + <hr /> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page50" + id="page50"></a>[pg 50]</span> + + <div class="figcenter" + style="width:100%;"> + <a href="images/50.png"><img width="100%" + src="images/50.png" + alt="THE IMPERIAL JACK-IN-THE-BOX." /></a> + + <h3>THE IMPERIAL JACK-IN-THE-BOX.</h3><i>Chorus</i> + (<i>Everybody</i>). "EVERYTHING IN ORDER EVERYWHERE! O! + WHAT A SURPRISE! SOLD AGAIN!" + </div> + <hr /> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page51" + id="page51"></a>[pg 51]</span> + + <h2>THE IMPERIAL JACK-IN-THE-BOX.</h2> + + <h3>A SONG FOR THE SHOUTING EMPEROR.</h3> + + <h4>AIR—"<i>The Major-General.</i>"</h4> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>I am the very pattern of a Modern German + Emperor,</p> + + <p>Omniscient and omnipotent, I ne'er give way to + temper, or</p> + + <p>If now and then I run a-muck in a Malay-like + fashion,</p> + + <p>As there's method in my madness, so there's purpose + in my passion.</p> + + <p>'Tis my aim to manage <i>everything</i> in order + categorical—</p> + + <p>My fame as Cosmos-maker I intend shall be + historical.</p> + + <p>I know they call me <i>Paul Pry</i>, say I'm fussy + and pragmatical—</p> + + <p>But that's because sheer moonshine always hates the + mathematical.</p> + + <p>I'm not content to "play the King" with an imperial + pose in it—</p> + + <p>Whatever is marked "Private" I shall up and poke my + nose in it.</p> + </div> + </div> + + <center> + ALL. + </center> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p><i>He</i> won't let drowsing dogs lie, he'll stir up + the tabby sleeping Tom—</p> + + <p>In fact, he is the model of a modern German Peeping + Tom!</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>I bounce into the Ball-Room when they think I'm fast + asleep at home,</p> + + <p>And measure steps and skirts and things and mark + what state folks keep at home;</p> + + <p>Watch the toilette of young Beauty on the very + strictest Q.T. too,</p> + + <p>Evangelise the Army and keep sentries to their duty, + too,</p> + + <p>On the Navy, and the Clergy, and the Schools, my + wise eyes shoot lights, Sir.</p> + + <p>I'm awfully particular to regulate the footlights, + Sir.</p> + + <p>I preach sermons to my soldiers and arrange their + "duds" and duels, too,</p> + + <p>And tallow their poor noses, when they've colds, and + mix their gruels, too;</p> + + <p>I'll make everybody moral, and obedient, and frugal, + Sir—</p> + + <p>In fact I'm an Imperial edition of MCDOUGALL, + Sir!</p> + </div> + </div> + + <center> + ALL. + </center> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>He'd compel us to drink water and restrain us when + to wed agog;</p> + + <p>In fact he is the model of a Modern German + pedagogue.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>I've all the god-like attributes, omniscient, + ubiquitous,</p> + + <p>I mean to squelch free impulse, which is commonly + iniquitous.</p> + + <p>But what's the good of being Chief Inspector of the + Universe,</p> + + <p>And prying into everything from pompous Law to puny + verse,</p> + + <p>If everything or nearly so, shows a confounded + tendency</p> + + <p><i>To go right of its own accord</i>? My Masterful + Resplendency</p> + + <p>Would radiate aurorally, a world would gaze on + trustingly</p> + + <p>If only things in general wouldn't go on so + disgustingly.</p> + + <p>Where <i>is</i> the pull of being Earth's Inspector + autocratical,</p> + + <p>When the Progress <i>I</i>'d be motor of seems + mainly automatical?</p> + </div> + </div> + + <center> + ALL. + </center> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Hooray! My would-be Jupiter, a <i>parvenu</i> is + told again</p> + + <p>He's not the true Olympian, Jack-in-the-Box is "Sold + Again!!!"</p> + </div> + </div> + <hr /> + + <p>"ARTIFICIAL OYSTER-CULTIVATION," read Mrs. R., as the + heading of a par in the <i>Times</i>. "Good gracious!" she + exclaimed, "who on earth would ever think of eating 'artificial + oysters!'"</p> + <hr /> + + <p>NOTHING is certain in this life except Death, Quarter Day + and stoppage for ten minutes at Swindon Station.</p> + <hr /> + + <div class="figcenter" + style="width:65%;"> + <a href="images/51.png"><img width="100%" + src="images/51.png" + alt="SO CONVENIENT!" /></a> + + <h3>SO CONVENIENT!</h3> + + <p><i>Young Wife</i>. "WHERE ARE YOU GOING, REGGIE + DEAR?"</p> + + <p><i>Reggie Dear</i>. "ONLY TO THE CLUB, MY DARLING."</p> + + <p><i>Young Wife</i>. "OH, I DON'T MIND THAT, BECAUSE + THERE'S A TELEPHONE THERE, AND I CAN TALK TO YOU THROUGH + IT, CAN'T I?"</p> + + <p><i>Reggie</i>. "Y-YES—BUT—ER—YOU KNOW, + THE CONFOUNDED WIRES ARE ALWAYS GETTING OUT OF ORDER!"</p> + </div> + <hr /> + + <h2>PARLIAMENT À LA MODE DE PARIS.</h2> + + <blockquote> + <p>SCENE—<i>The Chamber during a Debate of an + exciting character</i>. Member <i>with a newspaper + occupying the Tribune</i>.</p> + </blockquote> + + <p><i>Member</i>. I ask if the report in this paper is true? It + calls the Minister a scoundrel! [<i>Frantic applause.</i></p> + + <p><i>President</i>. I must interpose. It is not right that + such a document should be read.</p> + + <p><i>Member</i>. But it is true. I hold in my hand this + truth-telling sheet. (<i>Shouts of</i> "<i>Well done</i>!") + This admirable journal describes the Minister as a trickster, a + man without a heart! [<i>Yells of approbation.</i></p> + + <p><i>President</i>. I warn the Member that he is going too + far. He is outraging the public conscience. ["<i>Hear! + hear</i>!"</p> + + <p><i>Member</i>. It is you that outrage the public conscience. + [<i>Sensation.</i></p> + + <p><i>President</i>. This is too much! If I hear another word + of insult, I will assume my hat.</p> + + <blockquote> + <p>[<i>Profound and long-continued agitation.</i></p> + </blockquote> + + <p><i>Member</i>. A hat is better than a turned coat! + (<i>Thunders of applause.</i>) I say that this paper is full of + wholesome things, and that when it denounces the Minister as a + good-for-nothing, as a slanderer, as a thief—it does but + its duty.</p> + + <blockquote> + <p>[<i>Descends from the Tribune amidst tumultuous + applause, and is met by the</i> Minister. <i>Grand + altercation, with results.</i></p> + </blockquote> + + <p><i>Minister's Friends</i>. What have you done to him?</p> + + <p><i>Minister</i> (<i>with dignity</i>). I have avenged my + honour—I have hit him in the eye!</p> + + <blockquote> + <p>[<i>Scene closes in upon the</i> Minister <i>receiving + hearty congratulations from all sides of the + Chamber.</i></p> + </blockquote> + <hr /> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page52" + id="page52"></a>[pg 52]</span> + + <h2>PRESERVED VENICE.</h2> + + <h4>(<i>Specially Imported for the London Market.</i>)</h4> + + <h3>A SATURDAY NIGHT SCENE AT OLYMPIA.</h3> + + <h4>IN THE PROMENADE.</h4> + + <blockquote> + <p><i>A Pessimistic Matron</i> (<i>the usual beady and + bugle-y female, who takes all her pleasure as a + penance</i>). Well, they may <i>call</i> it "Venice," but + <i>I</i> don't see no difference from what it was when the + Barnum Show was + 'ere—except—(<i>regretfully</i>)—that + then they 'ad the Freaks o' Nature, and Jumbo's + skelinton!</p> + </blockquote> + + <div class="figright" + style="width:65%;"> + <a href="images/52.png"><img width="100%" + src="images/52.png" + alt="'I'm sure I'm 'ighly flattered, Mum, but I'm already suited.'" /> + </a>"I'm sure I'm 'ighly flattered, Mum, but I'm already + suited." + </div> + + <p><i>Her Husband</i> (<i>an Optimist—less from + conviction than contradiction</i>). There you go, MARIA, + finding fault the minute you've put your nose inside! We ain't + <i>in</i> Venice yet. It's up at the top o' them steps.</p> + + <p><i>The P.M.</i> Up all them stairs? Well, I 'ope it'll be + worth seeing when we <i>do</i> get there, that's all!</p> + + <p><i>An Attendant</i> (<i>as she arrives at the top</i>). Not + this door, Ma'am—next entrance for Modern Venice.</p> + + <p><i>The Opt. Husb.</i> You needn't go all the way down again, + when the steps join like that!</p> + + <p><i>The P.M.</i> I'm not going to walk + sideways—<i>I</i>'m not a crab, JOE, whatever <i>you</i> + may think. (JOE <i>assents, with reservations</i>). Now + wherever have those other two got to? 'urrying off that way! + Oh, <i>there</i> they are. 'Ere, LIZZIE and JEM, keep along o' + me and Father, do, or we shan't see half of what's to be + seen!</p> + + <p><i>Lizzie</i>. Oh, all right, Ma; don't you worry so! + (<i>To</i> JEM, <i>her fiancé</i>.) Don't those tall fellows + look smart with the red feathers in their cocked 'ats? What do + they call <i>them</i>?</p> + + <p><i>Jem</i> (<i>a young man, who thinks for himself</i>). + Well, I shouldn't wonder if those were the parties they call + "Doges"—sort o' police over there, d'ye see?</p> + + <p><i>Lizzie</i>. They're 'andsomer than 'elmets, I will say + <i>that</i> for them. (<i>They enter Modern Venice, amidst + cries of "This way for Gondoala Tickets! Pass along, please! + Keep to your right</i>!" &c., &c.) It <i>does</i> have + a foreign look, with all those queer names written up. Think + it's like what it is, JEM?</p> + + <p><i>Jem</i>. Bound to be, with all the money they've spent on + it. I daresay they've idle-ised it a bit, though.</p> + + <p><i>The P.M.</i> Where are all these kinals they talk so much + about? I don't see none!</p> + + <p><i>Jem</i> (<i>as a break in the crowd reveals a narrow + olive-green channel</i>). Why, what d'ye call <i>that</i>, + Ma?</p> + + <p><i>The P.M.</i> That a kinal! Why, you don't mean to tell me + any barge 'ud—</p> + + <p><i>The Opt. Husb.</i> Go on!—you didn't suppose you'd + find the Paddington Canal in <i>these</i> parts, did you? This + is big enough for all <i>they</i> want. (<i>A gondola goes by + lurchily, crowded with pot-hatted passengers, smoking pipes, + and wearing the uncomfortable smile of children enjoying their + first elephant-ride.</i>) That's one o' these 'ere + gondoalers—it's a rum-looking concern, ain't it? But I + suppose you get <i>used</i> to + 'em—(<i>philosophically</i>)—like everything + else!</p> + + <p><i>The P.M.</i> It gives me the creeps to look at 'em. Talk + about <i>'earses</i>!</p> + + <p><i>The Opt. Husb.</i> Well, look 'ere, we've come out to + enjoy ourselves—what d'ye say to having a ride in one, + eh?</p> + + <p><i>The P.M.</i> You won't ketch me trusting <i>my</i>self in + one o' them tituppy things, so don't you deceive yourself!</p> + + <p><i>The Opt. Husb.</i> Oh, it's on'y two foot o' warm water + if you do tip over. <i>Come</i> on! (<i>Hailing</i> Gondolier, + <i>who has just landed his cargo.</i>) 'Ere, 'ow much'll you + take the lot of us for, hey?</p> + + <p><i>Gondolier</i> (<i>gesticulating</i>). Teekits! you tek + teekits—là —you vait!</p> + + <p><i>Jem</i>. He means we've got to go to the orfice and take + tickets and stand in a cue, d'yer see?</p> + + <p><i>The P.M.</i> Me go and form a cue down there and get + squeeged like at the Adelphi Pit, all to set in a rickety + gondoaler! I can see all <i>I</i> want to see without messing + about in one o' them things!</p> + + <p><i>The Others</i>. Well, I dunno as it's worth the extry + sixpence, come to think of it. (<i>They pass on, + contentedly.</i>)</p> + + <p><i>Jem</i>. We're on the Rialto Bridge now, LIZZIE, d'ye + see? The one in SHAKSPEARE, <i>you</i> know.</p> + + <p><i>Lizzie</i>. That's the one they call the "Bridge o' + Sighs," ain't it? (<i>Hazily.</i>) Is that because there's + <i>shops</i> on it?</p> + + <p><i>Jem</i>. I dessay. Shops—or else suicides.</p> + + <p><i>Lizzie</i> (<i>more hazily than ever</i>). Ah, the same + as the Monument. (<i>They walk on with a sense of mental + enlargement.</i>)</p> + + <p><i>Mrs. Lavender Salt</i>. It's wonderfully like the real + thing, LAVENDER, isn't it? Of course they can't <i>quite</i> + get the true Venetian atmosphere!</p> + + <p><i>Mr. L.S.</i> Well, MIMOSA, they'd have the Sanitary + Authorities down on them if they <i>did</i>, you know!</p> + + <p><i>Mrs. L.S.</i> Oh, you're so horribly unromantic! But, + LAVENDER, couldn't we get one of those gondolas and go about. + It would be so lovely to be in one again, and fancy ourselves + back in dear Venice, now <i>wouldn't</i> it?</p> + + <p><i>Mr. L.S.</i> The illusion is cheap at sixpence; so come + along, MIMOSA!</p> + + <blockquote> + <p>[<i>He secures, tickets, and presently the</i> LAVENDER + SALTS, <i>find themselves part of a long queue, being + marshalled between barriers by Italian gendarmes in a state + of politely suppressed amusement.</i></p> + </blockquote> + + <p><i>Mrs. L.S.</i> (<i>over her shoulder to her husband, as + she imagines</i>). I'd no idea we should have to go through all + this! Must we really herd in with all these people? Can't we + two manage to get a gondola all to ourselves?</p> + + <p><i>A Voice</i> (<i>not</i> LAVENDER's—<i>in her + ear</i>). I'm sure I'm 'ighly flattered, Mum, but I'm already + suited; yn't I, DYSY?</p> + + <blockquote> + <p>[DYSY <i>corroborates his statement with unnecessary + emphasis.</i></p> + </blockquote> + + <p><i>A Sturdy Democrat</i> (<i>in front, over his + shoulder</i>). Pity yer didn't send word you was coming, Mum, + and then they'd ha' kep' the place clear of us common people + for yer! [Mrs. L.S. <i>is sorry she spoke.</i></p> + + <blockquote> + <p>IN THE GONDOLA.—Mr. <i>and</i> Mrs. L.S. <i>are + seated in the back seat, supported on one side by the</i> + Humorous 'ARRY <i>and his Fiancée, and on the other by a + pale, bloated youth, with a particularly rank cigar, and + the</i> Sturdy Democrat, <i>whose two small boys occupy the + seat in front.</i></p> + </blockquote> + + <p><i>The St. Dem.</i> (<i>with malice aforethought</i>). If + you two lads ain't <span class="pagenum"><a name="page53" + id="page53"></a>[pg 53]</span> got room there, I dessay this + lady won't mind takin' one of yer on her lap. (<i>To</i> + Mrs. L.S., <i>who is frozen with horror at the + suggestion.</i>) They're 'umin beans, Mum, like yerself!</p> + + <p><i>Mrs. L.S.</i> (<i>desperately ignoring her other + neighbours</i>). Isn't that lovely balcony there copied from + the one at the Pisani, LAVENDER—or is it the Contarini? I + forget.</p> + + <p><i>Mr. L.S.</i> Don't remember—got the Rialto rather + well, haven't they? I suppose that's intended for the dome of + the Salute down there—not quite the outline, though, if I + remember right. And, if that's the Campanile of St. Mark, the + colour's too brown, eh?</p> + + <p><i>The Hum. 'Arry</i> (<i>with intention</i>). Oh, I sy, + DYSY, yn't that the Kempynoily of Kennington Oval, right + oppersite? and 'aven't they got the Grand Kinel in the Ole Kent + Road proper, eh?</p> + + <p><i>Dysy</i> (<i>playing up to him, with enjoyment</i>). Jest + 'aven't they! On'y I don't quoite remember whether the colour + o' them gas-lamps is correct. But there, if we go on torkin' + this w'y, other parties might think we wanted to show orf!</p> + + <p><i>Mrs. L.S.</i> Do you remember our <i>last</i> gondola + expedition, LAVENDER, coming home from the Giudecca in that + splendid sunset?</p> + + <p><i>The Hum. A.</i> Recklect you and me roidin' 'ome from + Walworth on a rhinebow, DYSY, eh?</p> + + <p><i>Chorus of Chaff from the bridges and terraces as they + pass.</i> 'Ullo, 'ere comes another boat-load! 'Igher up, + there!... Four-wheeler!... Ain't that toff in the tall 'at + enjoyin' himself? Quite a 'appy funeral! &c., &c.</p> + + <p><i>Mrs. L.S.</i> (<i>faintly, as they enter the Canal in + front of the Stage</i>). LAVENDER, dear, I really can't stand + this <i>much</i> longer!</p> + + <p><i>Mr. L.S.</i> (<i>to the</i> Bloated Youth). Might I ask + you, Sir, not to puff your smoke in this lady's face—it's + extremely unpleasant for her!</p> + + <p><i>The B.Y.</i> All right, Mister, I'm always ready to + oblige a lydy—but—(<i>with wounded + pride</i>)—as to its bein' <i>unpleasant</i>, yer know, + all <i>I</i> can tell yer is—(<i>with + sarcasm</i>)—that this 'appens to be one of the best + tuppeny smokes in 'Ammersmith!</p> + + <p><i>Mr. L.S.</i> (<i>diplomatically</i>). I am sure of + that—from the aroma, but if you <i>could</i> kindly + postpone its enjoyment for a little while, we should be + extremely obliged!</p> + + <p><i>The B.Y.</i> Well, I must keep it <i>aloive</i>, yer + know. If there's anyone 'ere that understands cigars, they'll + bear me out as it never smokes the same when you once let it + out.</p> + + <blockquote> + <p>[<i>The other Passengers confirm him in this epicurean + dictum, whereupon he sucks the cigar at intervals + behind</i> Mrs. L.S.'s <i>back, during the remainder of the + trip.</i></p> + </blockquote> + + <p><i>Mr. L.S.</i> (<i>to</i> Mrs. L.S. <i>when they are alone + again</i>). Well, MIMOSA, illusion successful, eh? <i>Mrs. + L.S.</i> Oh, <i>don't</i>!</p> + <hr /> + + <div class="figcenter" + style="width:50%;"> + <a href="images/53-1.png"><img width="100%" + src="images/53-1.png" + alt="ABOMINATIONS OF MODERN SCIENCE." /></a> + + <h3>ABOMINATIONS OF MODERN SCIENCE.</h3>MARIANA ARRIVES AT + THE MOATED GRANGE (AFTER A LONG, DAMP JOURNEY) JUST IN TIME + TO DRESS FOR DINNER, AND FINDS, TO HER SORROW, THAT HER + ROOM IS WARMED BY HOT WATER PIPES AND LIGHTED BY + ELECTRICITY. + </div> + <hr /> + + <h2>TO MY CIGARETTE.</h2> + + <div class="figright" + style="width:50%;"> + <a href="images/53-2.png"><img width="100%" + src="images/53-2.png" + alt="" /></a> + </div> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>My own, my loved, my Cigarette,</p> + + <p class="i2">My dainty joy disguised in tissue,</p> + + <p>What fate can make your slave regret</p> + + <p class="i2">The day when first he dared to kiss + you?</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>I had smoked briars, like to most</p> + + <p class="i2">Who joy in smoking, and had been a</p> + + <p>Too ready prey to those who boast</p> + + <p class="i2">Their bonded stores of Reina Fina.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>In honeydew had steeped my soul</p> + + <p class="i2">Had been of cherry pipes a cracker,</p> + + <p>And watched the creamy meerschaum's bowl</p> + + <p class="i2">Grow weekly, daily, hourly blacker.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Read CALVERLEY and learnt by heart</p> + + <p class="i2">The lines he celebrates the weed in;</p> + + <p>And blew my smoke in rings, an art</p> + + <p class="i2">That many try, but few succeed in.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>In fact of nearly every style</p> + + <p class="i2">Of smoke I was a kindly critic,</p> + + <p>Though I had found Manillas vile,</p> + + <p class="i2">And Trichinopolis mephitic.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>The stout tobacco-jar became</p> + + <p class="i2">Within my smoking-room a fixture;</p> + + <p>I heard my friends extol by name</p> + + <p class="i2">Each one his own peculiar mixture.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>And tried them every one in turn</p> + + <p class="i2">(<i>O varium, tobacco, semper</i>!);</p> + + <p>The strong I found too apt to burn</p> + + <p class="i2">My tongue, the week to try my temper.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>And all were failures, and I grew</p> + + <p class="i2">More tentative and undecided,</p> + + <p>Consulted friends, and found they knew</p> + + <p class="i2">As little as or less than I did.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Havannah yielded up her pick</p> + + <p class="i2">Of prime cigars to my fruition;</p> + + <p>I bought a case, and some went "sick."</p> + + <p class="i2">The rest were never in condition.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Until in sheer fatigue I turned</p> + + <p class="i2">To you, tobacco's white-robed tyro,</p> + + <p>And from your golden legend learned</p> + + <p class="i2">Your maker dwelt and wrought in + Cairo.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>O worshipped wheresoe'er I roam,</p> + + <p class="i2">As fondly as a wife by some is,</p> + + <p>Waif from the far Egyptian home</p> + + <p class="i2">Of Pharaohs, crocodiles, and mummies;</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Beloved, in spite of jeer and frown;</p> + + <p class="i2">The more the Philistines assail you,</p> + + <p>The more the doctors run you down,</p> + + <p class="i2">The more I puff you—and inhale + you.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Though worn with toil and vexed with strife</p> + + <p class="i2">(Ye smokers all, attend and hear me),</p> + + <p>Undaunted still I live my life,</p> + + <p class="i2">With you, my Cigarette, to cheer me.</p> + </div> + </div> + <hr /> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page54" + id="page54"></a>[pg 54]</span> + + <div class="figcenter" + style="width:65%;"> + <a href="images/54.png"><img width="100%" + src="images/54.png" + alt="SOMETHING WRONG SOMEWHERE." /></a> + + <h3>SOMETHING WRONG SOMEWHERE.</h3> + + <p>"HOW CHARMING YOU LOOK, DEAR MRS. BELLAMY—AS + USUAL! <i>WOULD</i> YOU MIND TELLING ME WHO MAKES YOUR + LOVELY FROCKS? I'M <i>SO</i> DISSATISFIED WITH MY + DRESSMAKER!"</p> + + <p>"OH, CERTAINLY. MRS. CHIFFONNETTE, OF BOND STREET."</p> + + <p>"CHIFFONNETTE! WHY, I'VE BEEN TO HER FOR YEARS! THE + WRETCH! I WONDER WHY SHE SUITS YOU SO MUCH BETTER, + NOW!"</p> + </div> + <hr /> + + <h2>A TALK OVER THE TUB;</h2> + + <h3><i>Or, Legal Laundresses in Council.</i></h3> + + <blockquote class="note"> + <p>["The whole legal machinery is out of gear, and the + country is too busy to put it right."—<i>Law + Times</i>.]</p> + </blockquote> + + <h4><i>A Leading Laundress.</i></h4> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p class="i2">Wich I say, Missis 'ALSBURY, Mum,</p> + + <p class="i2">We are all getting into a quand'ry;</p> + + <p>You and me can no longer be dumb,</p> + + <p class="i2">Seein' how we're the heads of the + Laundry:</p> + + <p>It is all very well to stand 'ere,</p> + + <p class="i2">Sooperintending the soaping and + rinsing;</p> + + <p>Old pleas for delay, I much fear,</p> + + <p class="i2">Are no longer entirely conwincing.</p> + + <p>Just look at the Linen—in 'eaps!</p> + + <p class="i2">And no one can say it ain't dirty!</p> + + <p>Our clients, a-grumbling they keeps,</p> + + <p class="i2">And some of 'em seem getting shirty.</p> + + <p>Wotever, my dear, shall we do?</p> + + <p class="i2">Two parties 'as axed me that + question;</p> + + <p>And now I just puts it to <i>you</i>,</p> + + <p class="i2">And I 'ope you can make some + suggestion.</p> + </div> + </div> + + <h4><i>Head Laundress.</i></h4> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>My dear Missis COLEY, I own</p> + + <p class="i2"><i>I</i> ain't heard from the parties you + 'int at.</p> + + <p>But them Linen-'eaps certny <i>has</i> grown,</p> + + <p class="i2">Wich their bulk I 'ave just took a squint + at.</p> + + <p>We sud, and we rub, and we scrub.</p> + + <p class="i2">And the pile 'ardly seems to + diminish.</p> + + <p>It tires us poor Slaves of the Tub,</p> + + <p class="i2">And the doose only knows when we'll + finish,</p> + </div> + </div> + + <h4><i>A Leading Laundress.</i></h4> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Percisely, my dear, but it's <i>that</i>,</p> + + <p class="i2">As the Public insists upon knowin',</p> + + <p>Missis MATHEW 'as told me so, pat,</p> + + <p class="i2">Wich likeways 'as good Missis BOWEN.</p> + + <p>You can't floor their argyments, quite,</p> + + <p class="i2">'Owsomever you twirl 'em or 'twist + 'em;</p> + + <p>They say, and I fear they are right,</p> + + <p class="i2">There is somethink all wrong with our + System!</p> + </div> + </div> + + <h4><i>Head Laundress.</i></h4> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p><i>Our</i> System! Well, well, my good soul,</p> + + <p class="i2">You know 'twasn't <i>us</i> as inwented + it.</p> + + <p>We wouldn't have got into this 'ole,</p> + + <p class="i2">If <i>you</i> and <i>me</i> could 'ave + perwented it.</p> + + <p>I know there's no end of a block,</p> + + <p class="i2">That expenses is running up awfully;</p> + + <p>The sight of it gives me a shock,</p> + + <p class="i2">But 'ow can we alter + it—<i>lawfully</i>?</p> + </div> + </div> + + <h4><i>A Leading Laundress.</i></h4> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>I fear, Mum, I very much fear,</p> + + <p class="i2">That word doesn't strike so much + terror</p> + + <p>As once on the dull public ear;</p> + + <p class="i2">Times change. Mum, they do, make no + error!</p> + + <p>Our clients complain of the cost,</p> + + <p class="i2">And lots of Commercials is leaving + us.</p> + + <p>I think, Mum, afore more is lost,</p> + + <p class="i2">We had best own the block is—well + grieving us!</p> + </div> + </div> + + <h4><i>Head Laundress.</i></h4> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>There can't be no 'arm, dear, in <i>that</i>.</p> + + <p class="i2">Let's write to the papers and 'int + it.</p> + + <p>I know with your pen you are pat,</p> + + <p class="i2">And the <i>Times</i> will be 'appy to + print it.</p> + + <p>If we are to git through <i>that</i> lot,</p> + + <p class="i2">We must 'ave some more 'elp—that's + my notion!</p> + + <p>Let's strike whilst the iron is 'ot,</p> + + <p class="i2">The Public may trust our dewotion.</p> + + <p>We'll call the chief Laundresses round;</p> + + <p class="i2">Some way we no doubt shall discover.</p> + + <p>At least, dear, 'twill 'ave a good sound,</p> + + <p class="i2">If we meet, and—well <i>talk the + thing over!</i></p> + </div> + </div> + + <blockquote> + <p>[<i>Left doing so.</i></p> + </blockquote> + <hr /> + + <h3>A MENU FROM HATFIELD.</h3> + + <h4>POTAGES.</h4> + + <center> + Consommé de Neveu aux Balles de Golf. + </center> + + <center> + Au Jo poché. + </center> + + <h4>ENTRÉES.</h4> + + <center> + Suprême de Livres Bleus. + </center> + + <center> + Irlandais Sauvages en Culottes. + </center> + + <center> + Filou Mignon Randolph, Sauce Tartarin. + </center> + + <center> + Dégoût de Goschen à la Financière. + </center> + + <h4>RÔTS.</h4> + + <center> + Canards Portuguais. + </center> + + <center> + Entrecôte d'Afrique à l'Allemande. + </center> + + <h4>RELEVÉS.</h4> + + <center> + Terrine de Fermes Vendues à la Parnell. + </center> + + <center> + Pâté de Loi à l'Ordre Publique. + </center> + + <h4>LÉGUMES.</h4> + + <center> + Petits Soupçons Français, Sauce Égyptienne. + </center> + + <center> + Vêpres Ceçiliennes. + </center> + + <h4>ENTREMETS.</h4> + + <center> + Absorbé de Birmingham. + </center> + + <center> + Succès de Whitehall aux Affaires Étrangères. + </center> + + <h4>DESSERT.</h4> + + <center> + Amendes Parlementaires. + </center> + + <center> + Raisons de Plus en Défaites. + </center> + <hr /> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page55" + id="page55"></a>[pg 55]</span> + + <div class="figcenter" + style="width:100%;"> + <a href="images/55.png"><img width="100%" + src="images/55.png" + alt="'SHORT 'ANDED.'" /></a> + + <h3>"SHORT 'ANDED."</h3>MRS. H-LSB-RY. "I TELL YOU WHAT IT + IS, MRS. COLEY, MUM,—IF ALL THIS 'ERE DIRTY LINEN'S + TO BE GOT THROUGH, WE MUST 'AVE <i>'ELP</i>, MUM!!" + </div> + <hr /> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page57" + id="page57"></a>[pg 57]</span> + + <h2>"THE MUSIC IN OUR STREET."</h2> + + <h4>(<i>A word from a Girl who lives in it.</i>)</h4> + + <div class="figcenter" + style="width:100%;"> + <a href="images/57.png"><img width="100%" + src="images/57.png" + alt="" /></a> + </div> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Did you ever 'ear our music? What, never? + <i>There</i>'s a shame;</p> + + <p>I tell yer it's golopshus, we do 'ave such a + game.</p> + + <p>When the sun's a-shinin' brightly, when the fog's + upon the town,</p> + + <p>When the frost 'as bust the water-pipes, when rain + comes pourin' down;</p> + + <p>In the mornin' when the costers come a-shoutin' with + their mokes,</p> + + <p>In the evenin' when the gals walk out a-spoonin' + with their blokes,</p> + + <p>When Mother's slappin' BILLY, or when Father wants + 'is tea,</p> + + <p>When the boys are in the "Spotted Dog" a 'avin' of a + spree,</p> + + <p>No matter what the weather is, or what the time o' + day,</p> + + <p><i>Our</i> music allus visits us, and never goes + away.</p> + + <p>And when they've tooned theirselves to-rights, I + tell yer it's a treat</p> + + <p>Just to listen to the lot of 'em a-playin' in our + street.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>There's a chap as turns the orgin—the best I + ever 'eard—</p> + + <p>Oh lor' he does just jabber, but you can't make out + a word.</p> + + <p>I can't abear Italians, as allus uses knives,</p> + + <p>And talks a furrin lingo all their miserable + lives.</p> + + <p>But this one calls me BELLA—which my Christian + name is SUE—</p> + + <p>And 'e smiles and turns 'is orgin very proper, that + he do.</p> + + <p>Sometimes 'e plays a polker and sometimes it's a + march,</p> + + <p>And I see 'is teeth all shinin' through 'is lovely + black mustarch.</p> + + <p>And the little uns dance round him, you'd laugh + until you cried</p> + + <p>If you saw my little brothers do their 'ornpipes + side by side,</p> + + <p>And the gals they spin about as well, and don't they + move their feet,</p> + + <p>When they 'ear that pianner-orgin man, as plays + about our street.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>There's a feller plays a cornet too, and wears a + ulster coat,</p> + + <p>My eye, 'e does puff out 'is cheeks a-tryin' for 'is + note.</p> + + <p>It seems to go right through yer, and, oh, it's + right-down rare</p> + + <p>When 'e gives us "<i>Annie Laurie</i>" or "<i>Sweet + Spirit, 'ear my Prayer</i>";</p> + + <p>'E's so stout that when 'e's blowin' 'ard you think + 'e must go pop;</p> + + <p>And 'is nose is like the lamp (what's red) outside a + chemist's shop.</p> + + <p>And another blows the penny-pipe,—I allus + thinks it's thin,</p> + + <p>And I much prefers the cornet when 'e ain't bin + drinkin' gin.</p> + + <p>And there's Concertina-JIMMY, it makes yer want to + shout</p> + + <p>When 'e acts just like a windmill and waves 'is arms + about.</p> + + <p>Oh, I'll lay you 'alf a tanner, you'll find it 'ard + to beat</p> + + <p>The good old 'eaps of music that they gives us in + our street.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>And a pore old ragged party, whose shawl is shockin' + torn,</p> + + <p>She sings to suit 'er 'usband while 'e plays on so + forlorn.</p> + + <p>'Er voice is dreadful wheezy, and I can't exactly + say</p> + + <p>I like 'er style of singin' "<i>Tommy Dodd</i>" or + "<i>Nancy Gray</i>."</p> + + <p>But there, she does 'er best, I'm sure; I musn't run + 'er down,</p> + + <p>When she's only tryin' all she can to earn a honest + brown.</p> + + <p>Still, though I'm mad to 'ear 'em play, and + sometimes join the dance,</p> + + <p>I often wish one music gave the other kind a + chance.</p> + + <p>The orgin might have two days, and the cornet take a + third,</p> + + <p>While the pipe-man tried o' Thursdays 'ow to imitate + a bird.</p> + + <p>But they allus comes together, singin' playin' as + they meet</p> + + <p>With their pipes and 'orns and orgins in the middle + of our street.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>But there, I can't stand chatterin', pore mother's + mortal bad,</p> + + <p>And she's got to work the whole day long to keep + things straight for dad.</p> + + <p>Complain? Not she. She scrubs and rubs with all 'er + might and main,</p> + + <p>And the lot's no sooner finished but she's got to + start again.</p> + + <p>There's a patch for JOHNNY's jacket, a darn for + BILLY's socks,</p> + + <p>And an hour or so o' needlework a mendin' POLLY's + frocks;</p> + + <p>With floors to wash, and plates to clean, she'd soon + be skin and bone</p> + + <p>('Er cough's that aggravatin') if she did it all + alone.</p> + + <p>There'll be music while we're workin' to keep us on + the go—</p> + + <p>I like my tunes as fast as fast, pore mother likes + 'em slow—</p> + + <p>Ah! we don't get much to laugh at, nor yet too much + to eat,</p> + + <p>And the music stops us thinkin' when they play it in + the street.</p> + </div> + </div> + <hr /> + + <p>"MARIE, COME UP!"—When Miss MARIE LLOYD, who, + unprofessionally, when at home, is known as Mrs. PERCY + COURTENAY, which her Christian name is MATILDA, recently + appeared at Bow-Street Police Court, having summoned her + husband for an assault, the Magistrate, Mr. LUSHINGTON, ought + to have called on the Complainant to sing "<i>Whacky, Whacky, + Whack!</i>" which would have come in most appropriately. Let us + hope that the pair will make it up, and, as the story-books + say, "live happily ever afterwards."</p> + <hr /> + + <p>NIGHT LIGHTS.—Rumour has it that certain Chorus Ladies + have objected to wearing electric glow-lamps in their hair. Was + it for fear of becoming too light-headed?</p> + <hr /> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page58" + id="page58"></a>[pg 58]</span> + + <div class="figcenter" + style="width:100%;"> + <a href="images/58.png"><img width="100%" + src="images/58.png" + alt="THE POLITICAL WIREPULLER AT WORK." /></a> + + <h3>THE POLITICAL WIREPULLER AT WORK.</h3> + </div> + <hr /> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page59" + id="page59"></a>[pg 59]</span> + + <h2>POLITE LITERATURE.</h2> + + <p>DEAR MR. PUNCH,—Having seen in the pages of one of + your contemporaries several deeply interesting letters telling + of "the Courtesy of the CAVENDISH," I think it will be pleasing + to your readers to learn that I have a fund of anecdote + concerning the politeness—the true politeness—of + many other members of the Peerage. Perhaps you will permit me + to give you a few instances of what I may call aristocratic + amiability.</p> + + <p>On one occasion the Duke of DITCHWATER and a Lady entered + the same omnibus simultaneously. There was but one seat, and + noticing that His Grace was standing, I called attention to the + fact. "Certainly," replied His Grace, with a quiet smile, "but + if I had sat down, the Lady would not have enjoyed her present + satisfactory position!" The Lady herself had taken the until + then vacant place!</p> + + <p>Shortly afterwards I met Viscount VERMILION walking in an + opposite direction to the path I myself was pursuing. "My + Lord," I murmured, removing my hat, "I was quite prepared to + step into the gutter." "It was unnecessary," returned his + Lordship, graciously, "for as the path was wide, there was room + enough for both of us to pass on the same pavement!"</p> + + <p>On a very wet evening I saw My Lord TOMNODDICOMB coming from + a shop in Piccadilly. Noticing that his Lordship had no defence + against the weather, I ventured to offer the Peer my + <i>parapluie</i>.</p> + + <div class="figleft" + style="width:20%;"> + <a href="images/59-1.png"><img width="100%" + src="images/59-1.png" + alt="" /></a> + </div> + + <p>"Please let me get into my carriage," observed his Lordship. + Then discovering, from my bowing attitude, that I meant no + insolence by my suggestion, he added,—"And as for your + umbrella—surely on this rainy night you can make use of + it yourself?"</p> + + <p>Yet again. The Marchioness of LOAMSHIRE was on the point of + crossing a puddle.</p> + + <p>Naturally I divested myself of my greatcoat, and threw it as + a bridge across her Ladyship's dirty walk.</p> + + <p>The Marchioness smiled, but her Ladyship has never forgotten + the circumstance, and I have the coat still by me.</p> + + <p>And yet some people declare that the wives of Members of the + House of Lords are wanting in consideration!</p> + + <p>Believe me, dear <i>Mr. Punch</i>,</p> + + <p class="author">Yours enthusiastically, S. NOB.</p> + + <p><i>The Cringeries, Low Booington</i>.</p> + <hr /> + + <p>NOTICE—No. XXV. of "Travelling Companions" next + week.</p> + <hr /> + + <div class="figcenter" + style="width:66%;"> + <a href="images/59-2.png"><img width="100%" + src="images/59-2.png" + alt="FANCY PORTRAIT." /></a> + + <h3>FANCY PORTRAIT.</h3>SEÑOR DRUMMONDO WOLFFEZ, + REPRESENTING THE JOHN BULLFIGHTER AT MADRID.<br /> + <i>"TORÉADOR CONTENTO!"</i> + </div> + <hr /> + + <h2>THE JUDGES IN COUNCIL.</h2> + + <blockquote class="note"> + <p>["All the judicial wisdom of the Supreme Court has met + in solemn and secret conclave, heralded by letters from the + heads of the Bench, admitting serious evils in the working + of the High Court of Justice; a full working day was + appropriated for the occasion; the learned Judges met at 11 + A.M. (nominally) and rose promptly for luncheon, and for + the day, at 1·30 P.M. Two-and-a-half hours' work, during + which each of the twenty-eight judicial personages no doubt + devoted all his faculties and experience to the discovery, + discussion, and removal of the admittedly numerous defects + in the working of the Judicature Acts! Two-and-a-half + hours, which might have been stolen from the relaxations of + a Saturday afternoon! Two-and-a-half hours, for which the + taxpayers of the United Kingdom pay some eight hundred + guineas! Truly the spectacle is eminently calculated to + inspire the country with confidence and hopes of + reform."—<i>Extract from Letter to the + Times.</i>]</p> + </blockquote> + + <blockquote> + <p>SCENE—<i>A Room at the Royal Courts</i>. Lord + CHANCELLOR, Lord CHIEF JUSTICE, MASTER of the ROLLS, Lords + Justices, Justices.</p> + </blockquote> + + <p><i>L.C.</i> Well, I'm very glad to see you all looking so + well, but can anyone tell me why we've met at all?</p> + + <p><i>L.C.J.</i> Talking of meetings, do you remember that + Exeter story dear old JACK TOMPKINS used to tell on the Western + Circuit?</p> + + <div class="figright" + style="width:19%;"> + <a href="images/59-3.png"><img width="100%" + src="images/59-3.png" + alt="Fee-simple." /></a>Fee-simple. + </div> + + <blockquote> + <p>[<i>Proceeds to tell</i> JACK TOMPKINS's <i>story at + great length to great interest of</i> Chancery Judges.</p> + </blockquote> + + <p><i>M.R.</i> (<i>who has listened with marked + impatience</i>). Why, my dear fellow, it isn't a Western + Circuit story at all. It was on the Northern Circuit at + Appleby.</p> + + <blockquote> + <p>[<i>Proceeds to tell the same story all over again, + substituting Appleby for Exeter. At the conclusion of + story, Great laughter from</i> Chancery Judges. Common Law + Judges <i>look bored, having all told same story on and + about their own Circuits.</i></p> + </blockquote> + + <p><i>L.C.</i> Very good—very good—used to tell it + myself on the South Wales Circuit—but what have we met + for?</p> + + <p><i>Lord Justice A.</i> I say, what do you think about this + cross-examination fuss? It seems to me—</p> + + <p><i>L.C.J.</i> Talking of cross-examination—do you + fellows remember the excellent story dear old JOHNNIE BROWBEAT + used to tell about the Launceston election petition?</p> + + <blockquote> + <p>[<i>Proceeds to tell story in much detail</i>. L.C. + <i>looks uncomfortable at its conclusion</i>.</p> + </blockquote><span class="pagenum"><a name="page60" + id="page60"></a>[pg 60]</span> + + <p><i>M.R.</i> (<i>cutting in</i>). Why, my dear fellow, it + wasn't Launceston at all, it was Lancaster, and—</p> + + <blockquote> + <p>[<i>Tells story all over again to the</i> Chancery + Judges.</p> + </blockquote> + + <p><i>L.C.</i> Yes—excellent. I thought it took place at + Chester—but really, now, we must get to business. So, + first of all, will anyone kindly tell me what the business + is?</p> + + <p><i>Mr. Justice A.</i> (<i>a very young Judge</i>). Well, the + fact is, I believe the Public—</p> + + <p><i>Chorus of Judges</i>. The what?</p> + + <p><i>Mr. Justice A.</i> (<i>with hesitation</i>). Why—I + was going to say there seems to be a sort of discontent amongst + the Public—</p> + + <p><i>L.C.</i> (<i>with dignity</i>). Really, really—what + have we to do with the Public? But in case there should be any + truth in this extraordinary statement, I think we might as well + appoint a Committee to look into it, and then we can meet again + some day and hear what it is all about.</p> + + <p><i>L.C.J.</i> Yes, a Committee by all means; the smaller the + better. "Too many cooks," as dear old HORACE puts it.</p> + + <p><i>M.R.</i> Talking of cooks, isn't it about lunch time?</p> + + <blockquote> + <p>[<i>General consensus of opinion in favour of lunching. + As they adjourn</i>, L.C.J. <i>detains</i> Chancery Judges + <i>to tell them a story about something that happened at + Bodmin, and, to prevent mistakes, tells it in West Country + dialect</i>. M.R. <i>immediately repeats it in strong + Yorkshire, and lays the venue at Bradford. Result; that the + whole of</i> HER MAJESTY's <i>Courts in London were closed + for one day.</i></p> + </blockquote> + <hr /> + + <h2>THE LAY OF THE LITIGANT.</h2> + + <h4>(<i>After Hood. Also after Coleridge's (C.J.) Letter to the + Lord Chancellor on the decay of Legal Business.</i>)</h4> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>I remember, I remember</p> + + <p class="i2">The Law when I was born,</p> + + <p>The Serjeants, brothers of the coif,</p> + + <p class="i2">The Judges dead and gone.</p> + + <p>The Judicature Acts to them</p> + + <p class="i2">Were utterly unknown;</p> + + <p>It was a fearful ignorance—</p> + + <p class="i2">Oh, would it were my own!</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>I remember, I remember</p> + + <p class="i2">The worthy "Proctor" race,</p> + + <p>The "Posteas," and the "Elegits,"</p> + + <p class="i2">The "Actions on the Case."</p> + + <p>The "Error" each Attorney's Clerk</p> + + <p class="i2">Did wilfully abet,</p> + + <p>The days of "Bills" in Equity—</p> + + <p class="i2"><i>Some</i> bills are living yet!</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>I remember, I remember</p> + + <p class="i2">The years of "<i>Jarndyce</i>" jaw,</p> + + <p>The lively game of shuttlecock</p> + + <p class="i2">'Twixt Equity and Law.</p> + + <p>Tribunals then were "Courts" indeed</p> + + <p class="i2">That are "Divisions" now,</p> + + <p>And Silken Gowns have feared the frowns</p> + + <p class="i2">Upon a "Baron's" brow.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>We remember, we remember</p> + + <p class="i2">The flourishing of trumps,</p> + + <p>When Parliament took up our wrongs,</p> + + <p class="i2">And manned the legal pumps.</p> + + <p>Those noble Acts (they said) would end</p> + + <p class="i2">Obstructions and delay,</p> + + <p>And ne'er again would litigants</p> + + <p class="i2">The piper have to pay.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>I remember, I remember</p> + + <p class="i2">Expenses, mountains high;</p> + + <p>I used to think, when duly "taxed,"</p> + + <p class="i2">They'd vanish by-and-by.</p> + + <p>It was a foolish confidence,</p> + + <p class="i2">But now 'tis little joy</p> + + <p>To know that Law's as slow and dear</p> + + <p class="i2">As when I was a boy!</p> + </div> + </div> + <hr /> + + <h2>THE HERO OF THE SUMMER SALE.</h2> + + <h4>(<i>By our own Private and Confidential Poetess</i>.)</h4> + + <div class="figright" + style="width:35%;"> + <a href="images/60-1.png"><img width="100%" + src="images/60-1.png" + alt="" /></a> + </div> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>I would I loved some belted Earl,</p> + + <p class="i2">Some Baronet, or K.C.B.,</p> + + <p>But I'm a most unhappy girl,</p> + + <p class="i2">And no such luck's in store for me!</p> + + <p>I would I loved some Soldier bold,</p> + + <p class="i2">Who leads his troops where cannons + pop,</p> + + <p>But if the bitter truth be told—</p> + + <p class="i2">I love a man who walks a shop!</p> + + <p class="i4">For oh! a King of Men is he—</p> + + <p class="i6">With princely strut and stiffened + spine—</p> + + <p class="i4">So his, and his alone, shall be,</p> + + <p class="i6">This fondly foolish heart of mine!</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>On Remnant Days—from morn till night,</p> + + <p class="i2">When blows fall fast, and words run + high,</p> + + <p>When frenzied females fiercely fight</p> + + <p class="i2">For bargains that they long to + buy—</p> + + <p>From hot attack he does not flinch,</p> + + <p class="i2">But stands his ground with visage + pale,</p> + + <p>And all the time looks every inch</p> + + <p class="i2">The Hero of that Summer Sale!</p> + + <p class="i4">For oh! a King of Men is he—</p> + + <p class="i6">Whom shop-assistants call to "Sign!"</p> + + <p class="i4">So his, and his alone, shall be</p> + + <p class="i6">This fondly foolish heart of mine!</p> + </div> + </div> + <hr /> + + <p>MONDAY, <i>Jan.</i> 18, 1892. "Bath and West of England's + Society's Cheese School at Frome." Of this School, the + <i>Times</i>, judging by results, speaks highly of "the + practical character of the instruction given at the School." + This is a bad look-out for Eton and Harrow, not to say for + Winchester and Westminster also. All parents who wish their + children to be "quite the cheese" in Society generally, and + particularly for Bath and the West of England, where, of + course, Society is remarkably exclusive, cannot do better, it + is evident, than send them to the Bath and West of England + Cheese School.</p> + <hr /> + + <p>ON THE TRAILL.—It is suggested that in future M.P. + should stand for Minor Poet. Would this satisfy Mr. LEWIS + MORRIS? Or would he insist on being gazetted as a Major?</p> + <hr /> + + <h2>OUR BOOKING-OFFICE.</h2> + + <div class="figright" + style="width:22%;"> + <a href="images/60-2.png"><img width="100%" + src="images/60-2.png" + alt="The following Page." /></a>The following Page. + </div> + + <p>One of the Baron's Deputy-Readers has been looking through + Mr. G.W. HENLEY's <i>Lyra Heroica; a Book of Verse for + Boys</i>. DAVID NUTT, London.) This is his + appreciation:—Mr. HENLEY has tacked his name to a + collection which contains some noble poems, some (but not much) + trash, and a good many pieces, which, however poetical they may + be, are certainly not heroic, seeing that they do not express + "the simpler sentiments, and the more elemental emotions" (I + use Mr. HENLEY's prefatory words), and are scarcely the sort of + verse that boys are likely, or ought to care about. To be sure, + Mr. HENLEY guards himself on the score of his "personal + equation"—I trust his boys understand what he means. My + own personal equation makes me doubt whether Mr. HENLEY has + done well in including such pieces as, for instance, HERBERT's + "<i>Memento Mori</i>," CURRAN's "<i>The Deserter</i>," + SWINBURNE's "<i>The Oblation</i>," and ALFRED AUSTIN's "<i>Is + Life Worth Living</i>?" If Mr. HENLEY, or anybody else who + happens to possess a personal equation, will point out to me + the heroic quality in these poems, I shall feel deeply + grateful. And how, in the name of all that is or ever was + heroic, has "<i>Auld Lang Syne</i>" crept into this collection + of heroic verse? As for Mr. ALFRED AUSTIN, I cannot think by + what right he secures a place in such a compilation. I have + rarely read a piece of his which did not contain at least one + glaring infelicity. In "<i>Is Life Worth Living</i>?" he tells + us of "blithe herds," which (in compliance with the obvious + necessities of rhyme, but for no other reason)</p> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>"Wend homeward with unweary feet,</p> + + <p>Carolling like the birds."</p> + </div> + </div> + + <p>Further on we find that</p> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>"England's trident-sceptre roams</p> + + <p>Her territorial seas,"</p> + </div> + </div> + + <p>merely because the unfortunate sceptre has to rhyme somehow + to "English homes."</p> + + <p>But I have a further complaint against Mr. HENLEY. He + presumes, in the most fantastic manner, to alter the well-known + titles of celebrated poems. "<i>The Isles of Greece</i>" is + made to masquerade as "The Glory that was Greece"; "<i>Auld + Lang Syne</i>" becomes "The Goal of Life," and "<i>Tom + Bowline</i>" is converted into "The Perfect Sailor." This + surely (again I use the words of Mr. HENLEY) "is a thing + preposterous, and distraught." On the whole, I cannot think + that Mr. HENLEY has done his part well. His manner is bad. His + selection, it seems to me, is open to grave censure, on broader + grounds than the mere personally equational of which he speaks, + and his choppings, and sub-titles, and so forth, are not + commendable. The irony of literary history has apparently + ordained that Mr. HENLEY should first patronise, and then + "cut," both CAMPBELL and MACAULAY. Was the shade of MACAULAY + disturbed when he learnt that Mr. HENLEY considered his + "<i>Battle of Naseby</i>" both "vicious and ugly"?</p> + + <p class="author">BARON DE BOOK-WORMS & CO.</p> + <hr /> + + <p>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.</p> + <hr class="full" /> + +<div>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 14272 ***</div> +</body> +</html> diff --git a/14272-h/images/49.png b/14272-h/images/49.png Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..6a92ed2 --- /dev/null +++ b/14272-h/images/49.png diff --git a/14272-h/images/50.png b/14272-h/images/50.png Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..4e213a9 --- /dev/null +++ b/14272-h/images/50.png diff --git a/14272-h/images/51.png b/14272-h/images/51.png Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..566eb8b --- /dev/null +++ b/14272-h/images/51.png diff --git a/14272-h/images/52.png b/14272-h/images/52.png Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..5abd1de --- /dev/null +++ b/14272-h/images/52.png diff --git a/14272-h/images/53-1.png b/14272-h/images/53-1.png Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..b4ee6c9 --- /dev/null +++ b/14272-h/images/53-1.png diff --git a/14272-h/images/53-2.png b/14272-h/images/53-2.png Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..58b208d --- /dev/null +++ b/14272-h/images/53-2.png diff --git a/14272-h/images/54.png b/14272-h/images/54.png Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..85b4241 --- /dev/null +++ b/14272-h/images/54.png diff --git a/14272-h/images/55.png b/14272-h/images/55.png Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..bb9c8aa --- /dev/null +++ b/14272-h/images/55.png diff --git a/14272-h/images/57.png b/14272-h/images/57.png Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..18ac749 --- /dev/null +++ b/14272-h/images/57.png diff --git a/14272-h/images/58.png b/14272-h/images/58.png Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..540ba7a --- /dev/null +++ b/14272-h/images/58.png diff --git a/14272-h/images/59-1.png b/14272-h/images/59-1.png Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..20fdd6d --- /dev/null +++ b/14272-h/images/59-1.png diff --git a/14272-h/images/59-2.png b/14272-h/images/59-2.png Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..3051950 --- /dev/null +++ b/14272-h/images/59-2.png diff --git a/14272-h/images/59-3.png b/14272-h/images/59-3.png Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..5be3865 --- /dev/null +++ b/14272-h/images/59-3.png diff --git a/14272-h/images/60-1.png b/14272-h/images/60-1.png Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..09974d9 --- /dev/null +++ b/14272-h/images/60-1.png diff --git a/14272-h/images/60-2.png b/14272-h/images/60-2.png Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..308f5c3 --- /dev/null +++ b/14272-h/images/60-2.png diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..388bc6c --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #14272 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/14272) diff --git a/old/14272-8.txt b/old/14272-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..0d42cc0 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/14272-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,1552 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Punch, Or The London Charivari, Volume 102, +January 30, 1892, 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, Volume 102, January 30, 1892 + +Author: Various + +Release Date: December 6, 2004 [EBook #14272] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PUNCH *** + + + + +Produced by Malcolm Farmer, William Flis, and the PG Online +Distributed Proofreading Team + + + + + +PUNCH, + +OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. + +VOL. 102. + + + +January 30, 1892. + + + + +CONFESSIONS OF A DUFFER. + +III.--THE LITERARY DUFFER. + +[Illustration: "I have worn a cloak and a Tyrolese hat, and +attitudinised in the Picture-galleries."] + +Why I am not a success in literature it is difficult for me to tell; +indeed, I would give a good deal to anyone who would explain the +reason. The Publishers, and Editors, and Literary Men decline to tell +me _why_ they do not want my contributions. I am sure I have done +all that I can to succeed. When my Novel, _Geoffrey's Cousin_, comes +back from the Row, I do not lose heart--I pack it up, and send it off +again to the Square, and so, I may say, it goes the round. The very +manuscript attests the trouble I have taken. Parts of it are written +in my own hand, more in that of my housemaid, to whom I have dictated +passages; a good deal is in the hand of my wife. There are sentences +which I have written a dozen times, on the margins, with lines leading +up to them in red ink. The story is written on paper of all sorts and +sizes, and bits of paper are pasted on, here and there, containing +revised versions of incidents and dialogue. The whole packet is now +far from clean, and has a business-like and travelled air about it, +which should command respect. I always accompany it with a polite +letter, expressing my willingness to cut it down, or expand it, or +change the conclusion. Nobody can say that I am proud. But it always +comes back from the Publishers and Editors, without any explanation +as to why it will not do. This is what I resent as particularly hard. +The Publishers decline to tell me what their Readers have really said +about it. I have forwarded _Geoffrey's Cousin_ to at least five or six +notorious authors, with a letter, which runs thus:-- + + "DEAR SIR,--You will be surprised at receiving a letter from + a total stranger, but your well-known goodness of heart must + plead my excuse. I am aware that your time is much occupied, + but I am certain that you will spare enough of that valuable + commodity to glance through the accompanying MS. Novel, and + give me your frank opinion of it. Does it stand in need of + any alterations, and, if so, what? Would you mind having it + published _under your own name_, receiving one-third of the + profits? A speedy answer will greatly oblige." + +Would you believe it, _Mr. Punch_, not one of these over-rated and +overpaid men has ever given me any advice at all? Most of them +simply send back my parcel with no reply. One, however, wrote to say +that he received at least six such packets every week, and that his +engagements made it impossible for him to act as a guide, counsellor, +and friend to the amateurs of all England. He added that, if I +published the Novel at my own expense, the remarks of the public +critics would doubtless prove most valuable and salutary. + +This decided me; I _did_ publish, at my own expense, with Messrs. +SAUL, SAMUEL, MOSS & CO. I had to pay down £150, then £35 for +advertisements, then £70 for Publisher's Commission. Other expenses +fell grievously on me, as I sent round printed postcards to everyone +whose name is in the Red Book, asking them to ask for _Geoffrey's +Cousin_ at the Libraries. I also despatched six copies, with six +anonymous letters, to Mr. GLADSTONE, signing them, "A Literary +Constituent," "A Wavering Anabaptist," and so forth, but, +extraordinary to relate, I have received no answer, and no notice has +been taken of my disinterested presents. The reviews were of the most +meagre and scornful description. Messrs. SAUL, SAMUEL, Moss & Co. have +just written to me, begging me to remove the "remainder" of my book, +and charging £23 15s. 6d. for warehouse expenses. Yet, when I read +_Geoffrey's Cousin_, I fail to see that it falls, in any way, beneath +the general run of novels. I enclose a marked copy, and solicit your +earnest attention for the passage in which _Geoffrey's Cousin_ blights +his hopes for ever. The story, Sir, is one of controversy, and is +suited to this time. _Geoffrey McPhun_ is an Auld Licht (see Mr. +BARRIE's books, _passim_). His cousin is an Esoteric Buddhist. They +love each other dearly, but _Geoffrey_, a rigid character, cannot +marry any lady who does not burn, as an Auld Licht, "with a hard +gem-like flame." _Violet Blair_, his cousin, is just as staunch an +Esoteric Buddhist. Nothing stands between them but the differences of +their creed. + +"How can I contemplate, GEOFFREY," said VIOLET, with a rich blush, +"the possibility of seeing our little ones stray from the fold of the +Lama of Thibet into a chapel of the Original Secession Church?" + +They determine to try to convert each other. _Geoffrey_ lends _Violet_ +all his theological library, including WODROW's _Analecta_. She +lends him the learned works of Mr. SINNETT and Madame BLAVATSKY. They +retire, he to the Himalayas, she to Thrums, and their letters compose +Volume II. (Local colour _à la_ KIPLING and BARRIE.) On the slopes of +the Himalayas you see _Geoffrey_ converted; he becomes a Cheela, and +returns by overland route. He rushes to Ramsgate, and announces his +complete acceptance of the truth as it is in Mahatmaism. Alas! alas! +_Violet_ has been over-persuaded by the seductions of Presbyterianism, +she has hurried down from Thrums, rejoicing, a full-blown Auld Licht. +And, in her _Geoffrey_, she finds a convinced Esoteric Buddhist! They +are no better off than they were, their union is impossible, and Vol. +III. ends in their poignant anguish. + +Now, _Mr. Punch_, is not this the very novel for the times; rich in +adventure (in Kafiristan), teeming with philosophical suggestiveness, +and sparkling with all the epigrams of my commonplace book. Yet I am +about £300 out of pocket, and, moreover, a blighted being. + +I have taken every kind of pains; I have asked London Correspondents +to dinner; I have written flattering letters to everybody; I have +attempted to get up a deputation of Beloochis to myself; I have tried +to make people interview me; I have puffed myself in all the modes +which study and research can suggest. If anybody has, I have been "up +to date." But Fortune is my foe, and I see others flourish by the very +arts which fail in my hands. + +I mention my Novel because its failure really is a mystery. But I +am not at all more fortunate in the reception of my poetry. I have +tried it every way--ballades by the bale, sonnets by the dozen, loyal +odes, seditious songs, drawing-room poetry, an Epic on the history of +Labducuo, erotic verse, all fire, foam, and fangs, reflective ditto, +humble natural ballads about signal-men and newspaper-boys, Life-boat +rescues, Idyls, Nocturnes in rhyme, tragedies in blank verse. Nobody +will print them, or, if anybody prints them, he regrets that he +cannot pay for them. My moral and discursive essays are rejected, my +descriptions of nature do not even get into the newspapers. I have +not been elected by the Sydenham Club (a clique of humbugs); I have +let my hair grow long; I have worn a cloak and a Tyrolese hat, and +attitudinised in the picture-galleries, but nobody asked who I am. I +have endeavoured to hang on to well-known poets and novelists--they +have not welcomed my advances. + +My last dodge was a Satire, the _Logrolliad_, in which I lashed the +charlatans and pretenders of the day. + + While hoary statesmen scribble in reviews + And guide the doubtful verdict of the Blues, + While HAGGARD scrawls, with blood in lieu of ink, + While MALLOCK teaches Marquises to think, + +so long I have rhythmically expressed my design to wield the dripping +scourge of satire. But nobody seems a penny the worse, and I am not a +paragraph the better. Short stories of a startling description fill my +drawers, nobody will venture on one of them. I have closely imitated +every writer who succeeds, but my little barque may attendant sail, it +pursues the triumph, but does not partake the gale. + +I am now engaged on a Libretto for an heroic opera. + +What offers? + + * * * * * + +[Illustration: THE IMPERIAL JACK-IN-THE-BOX. + +_Chorus_ (_Everybody_). "EVERYTHING IN ORDER EVERYWHERE! O! WHAT A +SURPRISE! SOLD AGAIN!"] + + * * * * * + +THE IMPERIAL JACK-IN-THE-BOX. + +A SONG FOR THE SHOUTING EMPEROR. + +AIR--"_THE MAJOR-GENERAL._" + + I am the very pattern of a Modern German Emperor, + Omniscient and omnipotent, I ne'er give way to temper, or + If now and then I run a-muck in a Malay-like fashion, + As there's method in my madness, so there's purpose in my passion. + 'Tis my aim to manage _everything_ in order categorical-- + My fame as Cosmos-maker I intend shall be historical. + I know they call me _Paul Pry_, say I'm fussy and pragmatical-- + But that's because sheer moonshine always hates the mathematical. + I'm not content to "play the King" with an imperial pose in it-- + Whatever is marked "Private" I shall up and poke my nose in it. + +ALL. + + _He_ won't let drowsing dogs lie, he'll stir up the tabby sleeping Tom-- + In fact, he is the model of a modern German Peeping Tom! + + I bounce into the Ball-Room when they think I'm fast asleep at home, + And measure steps and skirts and things and mark what state folks keep + at home; + Watch the toilette of young Beauty on the very strictest Q.T. too, + Evangelise the Army and keep sentries to their duty, too, + On the Navy, and the Clergy, and the Schools, my wise eyes shoot lights, + Sir. + I'm awfully particular to regulate the footlights, Sir. + I preach sermons to my soldiers and arrange their "duds" and duels, too, + And tallow their poor noses, when they've colds, and mix their gruels, + too; + I'll make everybody moral, and obedient, and frugal, Sir-- + In fact I'm an Imperial edition of MCDOUGALL, Sir! + +ALL. + + He'd compel us to drink water and restrain us when to wed agog; + In fact he is the model of a Modern German pedagogue. + + I've all the god-like attributes, omniscient, ubiquitous, + I mean to squelch free impulse, which is commonly iniquitous. + But what's the good of being Chief Inspector of the Universe, + And prying into everything from pompous Law to puny verse, + If everything or nearly so, shows a confounded tendency + _To go right of its own accord_? My Masterful Resplendency + Would radiate aurorally, a world would gaze on trustingly + If only things in general wouldn't go on so disgustingly. + Where _is_ the pull of being Earth's Inspector autocratical, + When the Progress _I_'d be motor of seems mainly automatical? + +ALL. + + Hooray! My would-be Jupiter, a _parvenu_ is told again + He's not the true Olympian, Jack-in-the-Box is "Sold Again!!!" + + * * * * * + +"ARTIFICIAL OYSTER-CULTIVATION," read Mrs. R., as the heading of a par +in the _Times_. "Good gracious!" she exclaimed, "who on earth would +ever think of eating 'artificial oysters!'" + + * * * * * + +NOTHING is certain in this life except Death, Quarter Day and stoppage +for ten minutes at Swindon Station. + + * * * * * + +[Illustration: SO CONVENIENT! + +_Young Wife_. "WHERE ARE YOU GOING, REGGIE DEAR?" + +_Reggie Dear_. "ONLY TO THE CLUB, MY DARLING." + +_Young Wife_. "OH, I DON'T MIND THAT, BECAUSE THERE'S A TELEPHONE +THERE, AND I CAN TALK TO YOU THROUGH IT, CAN'T I?" + +_Reggie_. "Y-YES--BUT--ER--YOU KNOW, THE CONFOUNDED WIRES ARE ALWAYS +GETTING OUT OF ORDER!"] + + * * * * * + +PARLIAMENT À LA MODE DE PARIS. + + SCENE--_The Chamber during a Debate of an exciting character. + Member with a newspaper occupying the Tribune._ + +_Member_. I ask if the report in this paper is true? It calls the +Minister a scoundrel! [_Frantic applause._ + +_President_. I must interpose. It is not right that such a document +should be read. + +_Member_. But it is true. I hold in my hand this truth-telling sheet. +(_Shouts of_ "_Well done_!") This admirable journal describes +the Minister as a trickster, a man without a heart! [_Yells of +approbation._ + +_President_. I warn the Member that he is going too far. He is +outraging the public conscience. ["_Hear! hear_!" + +_Member_. It is you that outrage the public conscience. [_Sensation._ + +_President_. This is too much! If I hear another word of insult, I +will assume my hat. + + [_Profound and long-continued agitation._ + +_Member_. A hat is better than a turned coat! (_Thunders of +applause._) I say that this paper is full of wholesome things, and +that when it denounces the Minister as a good-for-nothing, as a +slanderer, as a thief--it does but its duty. + + [_Descends from the Tribune amidst tumultuous applause, and is + met by the Minister. Grand altercation, with results._ + +_Minister's Friends_. What have you done to him? + +_Minister_ (_with dignity_). I have avenged my honour--I have hit him +in the eye! + + [_Scene closes in upon the Minister receiving hearty + congratulations from all sides of the Chamber._ + + * * * * * + +PRESERVED VENICE. + +(_SPECIALLY IMPORTED FOR THE LONDON MARKET._) + +A SATURDAY NIGHT SCENE AT OLYMPIA. + +IN THE PROMENADE. + +_A Pessimistic Matron_ (_the usual beady and bugle-y female, who +takes all her pleasure as a penance_). Well, they may _call_ it +"Venice," but _I_ don't see no difference from what it was when +the Barnum Show was 'ere--except--(_regretfully_)--that then they +'ad the Freaks o' Nature, and Jumbo's skelinton! + +[Illustration: "I'm sure I'm 'ighly flattered, Mum, but I'm already +suited."] + +_Her Husband_ (_an Optimist--less from conviction than +contradiction_). There you go, MARIA, finding fault the minute you've +put your nose inside! We ain't _in_ Venice yet. It's up at the top o' +them steps. + +_The P.M._ Up all them stairs? Well, I 'ope it'll be worth seeing when +we _do_ get there, that's all! + +_An Attendant_ (_as she arrives at the top_). Not this door, +Ma'am--next entrance for Modern Venice. + +_The Opt. Husb._ You needn't go all the way down again, when the steps +join like that! + +_The P.M._ I'm not going to walk sideways--_I_'m not a crab, JOE, +whatever _you_ may think. (_JOE assents, with reservations_). Now +wherever have those other two got to? 'urrying off that way! Oh, +_there_ they are. 'Ere, LIZZIE and JEM, keep along o' me and Father, +do, or we shan't see half of what's to be seen! + +_Lizzie_. Oh, all right, Ma; don't you worry so! (_To JEM, her +fiancé_.) Don't those tall fellows look smart with the red feathers in +their cocked 'ats? What do they call _them_? + +_Jem_ (_a young man, who thinks for himself_). Well, I shouldn't +wonder if those were the parties they call "Doges"--sort o' police +over there, d'ye see? + +_Lizzie_. They're 'andsomer than 'elmets, I will say _that_ for them. +(_They enter Modern Venice, amidst cries of "This way for Gondoala +Tickets! Pass along, please! Keep to your right!"_ &c., &c.) It _does_ +have a foreign look, with all those queer names written up. Think it's +like what it is, JEM? + +_Jem_. Bound to be, with all the money they've spent on it. I daresay +they've idle-ised it a bit, though. + +_The P.M._ Where are all these kinals they talk so much about? I don't +see none! + +_Jem_ (_as a break in the crowd reveals a narrow olive-green +channel_). Why, what d'ye call _that_, Ma? + +_The P.M._ That a kinal! Why, you don't mean to tell me any barge +'ud-- + +_The Opt. Husb._ Go on!--you didn't suppose you'd find the Paddington +Canal in _these_ parts, did you? This is big enough for all +_they_ want. (_A gondola goes by lurchily, crowded with pot-hatted +passengers, smoking pipes, and wearing the uncomfortable smile of +children enjoying their first elephant-ride._) That's one o' these +'ere gondoalers--it's a rum-looking concern, ain't it? But I suppose +you get _used_ to 'em--(_philosophically_)--like everything else! + +_The P.M._ It gives me the creeps to look at 'em. Talk about +_'earses_! + +_The Opt. Husb._ Well, look 'ere, we've come out to enjoy +ourselves--what d'ye say to having a ride in one, eh? + +_The P.M._ You won't ketch me trusting _my_self in one o' them tituppy +things, so don't you deceive yourself! + +_The Opt. Husb._ Oh, it's on'y two foot o' warm water if you do +tip over. _Come_ on! (_Hailing Gondolier, who has just landed his +cargo._) 'Ere, 'ow much'll you take the lot of us for, hey? + +_Gondolier_ (_gesticulating_). Teekits! you tek teekits--là--you vait! + +_Jem_. He means we've got to go to the orfice and take tickets and +stand in a cue, d'yer see? + +_The P.M._ Me go and form a cue down there and get squeeged like at +the Adelphi Pit, all to set in a rickety gondoaler! I can see all _I_ +want to see without messing about in one o' them things! + +_The Others_. Well, I dunno as it's worth the extry sixpence, come to +think of it. (_They pass on, contentedly._) + +_Jem_. We're on the Rialto Bridge now, LIZZIE, d'ye see? The one in +SHAKSPEARE, _you_ know. + +_Lizzie_. That's the one they call the "Bridge o' Sighs," ain't it? +(_Hazily._) Is that because there's _shops_ on it? + +_Jem_. I dessay. Shops--or else suicides. + +_Lizzie_ (_more hazily than ever_). Ah, the same as the Monument. +(_They walk on with a sense of mental enlargement._) + +_Mrs. Lavender Salt_. It's wonderfully like the real thing, LAVENDER, +isn't it? Of course they can't _quite_ get the true Venetian +atmosphere! + +_Mr. L.S._ Well, MIMOSA, they'd have the Sanitary Authorities down on +them if they _did_, you know! + +_Mrs. L.S._ Oh, you're so horribly unromantic! But, LAVENDER, couldn't +we get one of those gondolas and go about. It would be so lovely to be +in one again, and fancy ourselves back in dear Venice, now _wouldn't_ +it? + +_Mr. L.S._ The illusion is cheap at sixpence; so come along, MIMOSA! + + [_He secures, tickets, and presently the LAVENDER SALTS, + find themselves part of a long queue, being marshalled + between barriers by Italian gendarmes in a state of politely + suppressed amusement._ + +_Mrs. L.S._ (_over her shoulder to her husband, as she imagines_). I'd +no idea we should have to go through all this! Must we really herd +in with all these people? Can't we two manage to get a gondola all to +ourselves? + +_A Voice_ (_not LAVENDER's--in her ear_). I'm sure I'm 'ighly +flattered, Mum, but I'm already suited; yn't I, DYSY? + + [_DYSY corroborates his statement with unnecessary emphasis._ + +_A Sturdy Democrat_ (_in front, over his shoulder_). Pity yer didn't +send word you was coming, Mum, and then they'd ha' kep' the place +clear of us common people for yer! [Mrs. L.S. _is sorry she spoke._ + + IN THE GONDOLA.--_Mr. and Mrs. L.S. are seated in the back + seat, supported on one side by the Humorous 'ARRY and his + Fiancée, and on the other by a pale, bloated youth, with a + particularly rank cigar, and the Sturdy Democrat, whose two + small boys occupy the seat in front._ + +_The St. Dem._ (_with malice aforethought_). If you two lads ain't +got room there, I dessay this lady won't mind takin' one of yer on her +lap. (_To Mrs. L.S., who is frozen with horror at the suggestion._) +They're 'umin beans, Mum, like yerself! + +_Mrs. L.S._ (_desperately ignoring her other neighbours_). Isn't that +lovely balcony there copied from the one at the Pisani, LAVENDER--or +is it the Contarini? I forget. + +_Mr. L.S._ Don't remember--got the Rialto rather well, haven't they? +I suppose that's intended for the dome of the Salute down there--not +quite the outline, though, if I remember right. And, if that's the +Campanile of St. Mark, the colour's too brown, eh? + +_The Hum. 'Arry_ (_with intention_). Oh, I sy, DYSY, yn't that the +Kempynoily of Kennington Oval, right oppersite? and 'aven't they got +the Grand Kinel in the Ole Kent Road proper, eh? + +_Dysy_ (_playing up to him, with enjoyment_). Jest 'aven't they! +On'y I don't quoite remember whether the colour o' them gas-lamps is +correct. But there, if we go on torkin' this w'y, other parties might +think we wanted to show orf! + +_Mrs. L.S._ Do you remember our _last_ gondola expedition, LAVENDER, +coming home from the Giudecca in that splendid sunset? + +_The Hum. A._ Recklect you and me roidin' 'ome from Walworth on a +rhinebow, DYSY, eh? + +_Chorus of Chaff from the bridges and terraces as they pass._ 'Ullo, +'ere comes another boat-load! 'Igher up, there!... Four-wheeler!... +Ain't that toff in the tall 'at enjoyin' himself? Quite a 'appy +funeral! &c., &c. + +_Mrs. L.S._ (_faintly, as they enter the Canal in front of the +Stage_). LAVENDER, dear, I really can't stand this _much_ longer! + +_Mr. L.S._ (_to the Bloated Youth_). Might I ask you, Sir, not to puff +your smoke in this lady's face--it's extremely unpleasant for her! + +_The B.Y._ All right, Mister, I'm always ready to oblige a +lydy--but--(_with wounded pride_)--as to its bein' _unpleasant_, yer +know, all _I_ can tell yer is--(_with sarcasm_)--that this 'appens to +be one of the best tuppeny smokes in 'Ammersmith! + +_Mr. L.S._ (_diplomatically_). I am sure of that--from the aroma, but +if you _could_ kindly postpone its enjoyment for a little while, we +should be extremely obliged! + +_The B.Y._ Well, I must keep it _aloive_, yer know. If there's anyone +'ere that understands cigars, they'll bear me out as it never smokes +the same when you once let it out. + + [_The other Passengers confirm him in this epicurean dictum, + whereupon he sucks the cigar at intervals behind Mrs. L.S.'s + back, during the remainder of the trip._ + +_Mr. L.S._ (_to Mrs. L.S. when they are alone again_). Well, MIMOSA, +illusion successful, eh? + +_Mrs. L.S._ Oh, _don't_! + + * * * * * + +[Illustration: ABOMINATIONS OF MODERN SCIENCE. + +MARIANA ARRIVES AT THE MOATED GRANGE (AFTER A LONG, DAMP JOURNEY) JUST +IN TIME TO DRESS FOR DINNER, AND FINDS, TO HER SORROW, THAT HER ROOM +IS WARMED BY HOT WATER PIPES AND LIGHTED BY ELECTRICITY.] + + * * * * * + +TO MY CIGARETTE. + +[Illustration] + + My own, my loved, my Cigarette, + My dainty joy disguised in tissue, + What fate can make your slave regret + The day when first he dared to kiss you? + + I had smoked briars, like to most + Who joy in smoking, and had been a + Too ready prey to those who boast + Their bonded stores of Reina Fina. + + In honeydew had steeped my soul + Had been of cherry pipes a cracker, + And watched the creamy meerschaum's bowl + Grow weekly, daily, hourly blacker. + + Read CALVERLEY and learnt by heart + The lines he celebrates the weed in; + And blew my smoke in rings, an art + That many try, but few succeed in. + + In fact of nearly every style + Of smoke I was a kindly critic, + Though I had found Manillas vile, + And Trichinopolis mephitic. + + The stout tobacco-jar became + Within my smoking-room a fixture; + I heard my friends extol by name + Each one his own peculiar mixture. + + And tried them every one in turn + (_O varium, tobacco, semper_!); + The strong I found too apt to burn + My tongue, the week to try my temper. + + And all were failures, and I grew + More tentative and undecided, + Consulted friends, and found they knew + As little as or less than I did. + + Havannah yielded up her pick + Of prime cigars to my fruition; + I bought a case, and some went "sick." + The rest were never in condition. + + Until in sheer fatigue I turned + To you, tobacco's white-robed tyro, + And from your golden legend learned + Your maker dwelt and wrought in Cairo. + + O worshipped wheresoe'er I roam, + As fondly as a wife by some is, + Waif from the far Egyptian home + Of Pharaohs, crocodiles, and mummies; + + Beloved, in spite of jeer and frown; + The more the Philistines assail you, + The more the doctors run you down, + The more I puff you--and inhale you. + + Though worn with toil and vexed with strife + (Ye smokers all, attend and hear me), + Undaunted still I live my life, + With you, my Cigarette, to cheer me. + + * * * * * + +[Illustration: SOMETHING WRONG SOMEWHERE. + +"HOW CHARMING YOU LOOK, DEAR MRS. BELLAMY--AS USUAL! _WOULD_ YOU MIND +TELLING ME WHO MAKES YOUR LOVELY FROCKS? I'M _SO_ DISSATISFIED WITH MY +DRESSMAKER!" + +"OH, CERTAINLY. MRS. CHIFFONNETTE, OF BOND STREET." + +"CHIFFONNETTE! WHY, I'VE BEEN TO HER FOR YEARS! THE WRETCH! I WONDER +WHY SHE SUITS YOU SO MUCH BETTER, NOW!"] + + * * * * * + +A TALK OVER THE TUB; + +_OR, LEGAL LAUNDRESSES IN COUNCIL._ + + ["The whole legal machinery is out of gear, and the country is + too busy to put it right."--_Law Times_.] + +_A LEADING LAUNDRESS._ + + Wich I say, Missis 'ALSBURY, Mum, + We are all getting into a quand'ry; + You and me can no longer be dumb, + Seein' how we're the heads of the Laundry: + It is all very well to stand 'ere, + Sooperintending the soaping and rinsing; + Old pleas for delay, I much fear, + Are no longer entirely conwincing. + Just look at the Linen--in 'eaps! + And no one can say it ain't dirty! + Our clients, a-grumbling they keeps, + And some of 'em seem getting shirty. + Wotever, my dear, shall we do? + Two parties 'as axed me that question; + And now I just puts it to _you_, + And I 'ope you can make some suggestion. + +_HEAD LAUNDRESS._ + + My dear Missis COLEY, I own + _I_ ain't heard from the parties you 'int at. + But them Linen-'eaps certny _has_ grown, + Wich their bulk I 'ave just took a squint at. + We sud, and we rub, and we scrub. + And the pile 'ardly seems to diminish. + It tires us poor Slaves of the Tub, + And the doose only knows when we'll finish, + +_A LEADING LAUNDRESS._ + + Percisely, my dear, but it's _that_, + As the Public insists upon knowin', + Missis MATHEW 'as told me so, pat, + Wich likeways 'as good Missis BOWEN. + You can't floor their argyments, quite, + 'Owsomever you twirl 'em or 'twist 'em; + They say, and I fear they are right, + There is somethink all wrong with our System! + +_HEAD LAUNDRESS._ + + _Our_ System! Well, well, my good soul, + You know 'twasn't _us_ as inwented it. + We wouldn't have got into this 'ole, + If _you_ and _me_ could 'ave perwented it. + I know there's no end of a block, + That expenses is running up awfully; + The sight of it gives me a shock, + But 'ow can we alter it--_lawfully_? + +_A LEADING LAUNDRESS._ + + I fear, Mum, I very much fear, + That word doesn't strike so much terror + As once on the dull public ear; + Times change. Mum, they do, make no error! + Our clients complain of the cost, + And lots of Commercials is leaving us. + I think, Mum, afore more is lost, + We had best own the block is--well grieving us! + +_HEAD LAUNDRESS._ + + There can't be no 'arm, dear, in _that_. + Let's write to the papers and 'int it. + I know with your pen you are pat, + And the _Times_ will be 'appy to print it. + If we are to git through _that_ lot, + We must 'ave some more 'elp--that's my notion! + Let's strike whilst the iron is 'ot, + The Public may trust our dewotion. + We'll call the chief Laundresses round; + Some way we no doubt shall discover. + At least, dear, 'twill 'ave a good sound, + If we meet, and--well _talk the thing over!_ + + [_Left doing so._ + + * * * * * + +A MENU FROM HATFIELD. + +POTAGES. + +Consommé de Neveu aux Balles de Golf. +Au Jo poché. + +ENTRÉES. + +Suprême de Livres Bleus. +Irlandais Sauvages en Culottes. +Filou Mignon Randolph, Sauce Tartarin. +Dégoût de Goschen à la Financière. + +RÔTS. + +Canards Portuguais. +Entrecôte d'Afrique à l'Allemande. + +RELEVÉS. + +Terrine de Fermes Vendues à la Parnell. +Pâté de Loi à l'Ordre Publique. + +LÉGUMES. + +Petits Soupçons Français, Sauce Égyptienne. +Vêpres Ceçiliennes. + +ENTREMETS. + +Absorbé de Birmingham. +Succès de Whitehall aux Affaires Étrangères. + +DESSERT. + +Amendes Parlementaires. +Raisons de Plus en Défaites. + + * * * * * + +[Illustration: "SHORT 'ANDED." + +MRS. H-LSB-RY. "I TELL YOU WHAT IT IS, MRS. COLEY, MUM,--IF ALL THIS +'ERE DIRTY LINEN'S TO BE GOT THROUGH, WE MUST 'AVE _'ELP_, MUM!!"] + + * * * * * + +"THE MUSIC IN OUR STREET." + +(_A WORD FROM A GIRL WHO LIVES IN IT._) + +[Illustration] + + Did you ever 'ear our music? What, never? _There_'s a shame; + I tell yer it's golopshus, we do 'ave such a game. + When the sun's a-shinin' brightly, when the fog's upon the town, + When the frost 'as bust the water-pipes, when rain comes pourin' down; + In the mornin' when the costers come a-shoutin' with their mokes, + In the evenin' when the gals walk out a-spoonin' with their blokes, + When Mother's slappin' BILLY, or when Father wants 'is tea, + When the boys are in the "Spotted Dog" a 'avin' of a spree, + No matter what the weather is, or what the time o' day, + _Our_ music allus visits us, and never goes away. + And when they've tooned theirselves to-rights, I tell yer it's a treat + Just to listen to the lot of 'em a-playin' in our street. + + There's a chap as turns the orgin--the best I ever 'eard-- + Oh lor' he does just jabber, but you can't make out a word. + I can't abear Italians, as allus uses knives, + And talks a furrin lingo all their miserable lives. + But this one calls me BELLA--which my Christian name is SUE-- + And 'e smiles and turns 'is orgin very proper, that he do. + Sometimes 'e plays a polker and sometimes it's a march, + And I see 'is teeth all shinin' through 'is lovely black mustarch. + And the little uns dance round him, you'd laugh until you cried + If you saw my little brothers do their 'ornpipes side by side, + And the gals they spin about as well, and don't they move their feet, + When they 'ear that pianner-orgin man, as plays about our street. + + There's a feller plays a cornet too, and wears a ulster coat, + My eye, 'e does puff out 'is cheeks a-tryin' for 'is note. + It seems to go right through yer, and, oh, it's right-down rare + When 'e gives us "_Annie Laurie_" or "_Sweet Spirit, 'ear my Prayer_"; + 'E's so stout that when 'e's blowin' 'ard you think 'e must go pop; + And 'is nose is like the lamp (what's red) outside a chemist's shop. + And another blows the penny-pipe,--I allus thinks it's thin, + And I much prefers the cornet when 'e ain't bin drinkin' gin. + And there's Concertina-JIMMY, it makes yer want to shout + When 'e acts just like a windmill and waves 'is arms about. + Oh, I'll lay you 'alf a tanner, you'll find it 'ard to beat + The good old 'eaps of music that they gives us in our street. + + And a pore old ragged party, whose shawl is shockin' torn, + She sings to suit 'er 'usband while 'e plays on so forlorn. + 'Er voice is dreadful wheezy, and I can't exactly say + I like 'er style of singin' "_Tommy Dodd_" or "_Nancy Gray_." + But there, she does 'er best, I'm sure; I musn't run 'er down, + When she's only tryin' all she can to earn a honest brown. + Still, though I'm mad to 'ear 'em play, and sometimes join the dance, + I often wish one music gave the other kind a chance. + The orgin might have two days, and the cornet take a third, + While the pipe-man tried o' Thursdays 'ow to imitate a bird. + But they allus comes together, singin' playin' as they meet + With their pipes and 'orns and orgins in the middle of our street. + + But there, I can't stand chatterin', pore mother's mortal bad, + And she's got to work the whole day long to keep things straight for dad. + Complain? Not she. She scrubs and rubs with all 'er might and main, + And the lot's no sooner finished but she's got to start again. + There's a patch for JOHNNY's jacket, a darn for BILLY's socks, + And an hour or so o' needlework a mendin' POLLY's frocks; + With floors to wash, and plates to clean, she'd soon be skin and bone + ('Er cough's that aggravatin') if she did it all alone. + There'll be music while we're workin' to keep us on the go-- + I like my tunes as fast as fast, pore mother likes 'em slow-- + Ah! we don't get much to laugh at, nor yet too much to eat, + And the music stops us thinkin' when they play it in the street. + + * * * * * + +"MARIE, COME UP!"--When Miss MARIE LLOYD, who, unprofessionally, when +at home, is known as Mrs. PERCY COURTENAY, which her Christian name is +MATILDA, recently appeared at Bow-Street Police Court, having summoned +her husband for an assault, the Magistrate, Mr. LUSHINGTON, ought +to have called on the Complainant to sing "_Whacky, Whacky, Whack!_" +which would have come in most appropriately. Let us hope that the +pair will make it up, and, as the story-books say, "live happily ever +afterwards." + + * * * * * + +NIGHT LIGHTS.--Rumour has it that certain Chorus Ladies have objected +to wearing electric glow-lamps in their hair. Was it for fear of +becoming too light-headed? + + * * * * * + +[Illustration: THE POLITICAL WIREPULLER AT WORK.] + + * * * * * + +POLITE LITERATURE. + +DEAR MR. PUNCH,--Having seen in the pages of one of your +contemporaries several deeply interesting letters telling of "the +Courtesy of the CAVENDISH," I think it will be pleasing to your +readers to learn that I have a fund of anecdote concerning the +politeness--the true politeness--of many other members of the Peerage. +Perhaps you will permit me to give you a few instances of what I may +call aristocratic amiability. + +On one occasion the Duke of DITCHWATER and a Lady entered the same +omnibus simultaneously. There was but one seat, and noticing that +His Grace was standing, I called attention to the fact. "Certainly," +replied His Grace, with a quiet smile, "but if I had sat down, the +Lady would not have enjoyed her present satisfactory position!" The +Lady herself had taken the until then vacant place! + +Shortly afterwards I met Viscount VERMILION walking in an opposite +direction to the path I myself was pursuing. "My Lord," I murmured, +removing my hat, "I was quite prepared to step into the gutter." "It +was unnecessary," returned his Lordship, graciously, "for as the path +was wide, there was room enough for both of us to pass on the same +pavement!" + +On a very wet evening I saw My Lord TOMNODDICOMB coming from a shop +in Piccadilly. Noticing that his Lordship had no defence against the +weather, I ventured to offer the Peer my _parapluie_. + +[Illustration] + +"Please let me get into my carriage," observed his Lordship. Then +discovering, from my bowing attitude, that I meant no insolence by my +suggestion, he added,--"And as for your umbrella--surely on this rainy +night you can make use of it yourself?" + +Yet again. The Marchioness of LOAMSHIRE was on the point of crossing a +puddle. + +Naturally I divested myself of my greatcoat, and threw it as a bridge +across her Ladyship's dirty walk. + +The Marchioness smiled, but her Ladyship has never forgotten the +circumstance, and I have the coat still by me. + +And yet some people declare that the wives of Members of the House of +Lords are wanting in consideration! + +Believe me, dear _Mr. Punch_, + +Yours enthusiastically, S. NOB. + +_The Cringeries, Low Booington_. + + * * * * * + +NOTICE--No. XXV. of "Travelling Companions" next week. + + * * * * * + +[Illustration: FANCY PORTRAIT. + +SEÑOR DRUMMONDO WOLFFEZ, REPRESENTING THE JOHN BULLFIGHTER AT MADRID. + +_"TORÉADOR CONTENTO!"_] + + * * * * * + +THE JUDGES IN COUNCIL. + + ["All the judicial wisdom of the Supreme Court has met in + solemn and secret conclave, heralded by letters from the heads + of the Bench, admitting serious evils in the working of the + High Court of Justice; a full working day was appropriated for + the occasion; the learned Judges met at 11 A.M. (nominally) + and rose promptly for luncheon, and for the day, at 1·30 + P.M. Two-and-a-half hours' work, during which each of the + twenty-eight judicial personages no doubt devoted all his + faculties and experience to the discovery, discussion, and + removal of the admittedly numerous defects in the working of + the Judicature Acts! Two-and-a-half hours, which might have + been stolen from the relaxations of a Saturday afternoon! + Two-and-a-half hours, for which the taxpayers of the United + Kingdom pay some eight hundred guineas! Truly the spectacle + is eminently calculated to inspire the country with confidence + and hopes of reform."--_Extract from Letter to the Times._] + + SCENE--_A Room at the Royal Courts. Lord CHANCELLOR, Lord + CHIEF JUSTICE, MASTER of the ROLLS, Lords Justices, Justices._ + +_L.C._ Well, I'm very glad to see you all looking so well, but can +anyone tell me why we've met at all? + +_L.C.J._ Talking of meetings, do you remember that Exeter story dear +old JACK TOMPKINS used to tell on the Western Circuit? + +[Illustration: Fee-simple.] + + [_Proceeds to tell JACK TOMPKINS's story at great length to + great interest of Chancery Judges._ + +_M.R._ (_who has listened with marked impatience_). Why, my dear +fellow, it isn't a Western Circuit story at all. It was on the +Northern Circuit at Appleby. + + [_Proceeds to tell the same story all over again, substituting + Appleby for Exeter. At the conclusion of story, Great laughter + from Chancery Judges. Common Law Judges look bored, having + all told same story on and about their own Circuits._ + +_L.C._ Very good--very good--used to tell it myself on the South Wales +Circuit--but what have we met for? + +_Lord Justice A._ I say, what do you think about this +cross-examination fuss? It seems to me-- + +_L.C.J._ Talking of cross-examination--do you fellows remember the +excellent story dear old JOHNNIE BROWBEAT used to tell about the +Launceston election petition? + + [_Proceeds to tell story in much detail. L.C. looks + uncomfortable at its conclusion_. + +_M.R._ (_cutting in_). Why, my dear fellow, it wasn't Launceston at +all, it was Lancaster, and-- + + [_Tells story all over again to the Chancery Judges._ + +_L.C._ Yes--excellent. I thought it took place at Chester--but really, +now, we must get to business. So, first of all, will anyone kindly +tell me what the business is? + +_Mr. Justice A._ (_a very young Judge_). Well, the fact is, I believe +the Public-- + +_Chorus of Judges_. The what? + +_Mr. Justice A._ (_with hesitation_). Why--I was going to say there +seems to be a sort of discontent amongst the Public-- + +_L.C._ (_with dignity_). Really, really--what have we to do with the +Public? But in case there should be any truth in this extraordinary +statement, I think we might as well appoint a Committee to look into +it, and then we can meet again some day and hear what it is all about. + +_L.C.J._ Yes, a Committee by all means; the smaller the better. "Too +many cooks," as dear old HORACE puts it. + +_M.R._ Talking of cooks, isn't it about lunch time? + + [_General consensus of opinion in favour of lunching. As + they adjourn, L.C.J. detains Chancery Judges to tell them a + story about something that happened at Bodmin, and, to prevent + mistakes, tells it in West Country dialect. M.R. immediately + repeats it in strong Yorkshire, and lays the venue at + Bradford. Result; that the whole of HER MAJESTY's Courts in + London were closed for one day._ + + * * * * * + +THE LAY OF THE LITIGANT. + +(_AFTER HOOD. ALSO AFTER COLERIDGE'S (C.J.) LETTER TO THE LORD +CHANCELLOR ON THE DECAY OF LEGAL BUSINESS._) + + I remember, I remember + The Law when I was born, + The Serjeants, brothers of the coif, + The Judges dead and gone. + The Judicature Acts to them + Were utterly unknown; + It was a fearful ignorance-- + Oh, would it were my own! + + I remember, I remember + The worthy "Proctor" race, + The "Posteas," and the "Elegits," + The "Actions on the Case." + The "Error" each Attorney's Clerk + Did wilfully abet, + The days of "Bills" in Equity-- + _Some_ bills are living yet! + + I remember, I remember + The years of "_Jarndyce_" jaw, + The lively game of shuttlecock + 'Twixt Equity and Law. + Tribunals then were "Courts" indeed + That are "Divisions" now, + And Silken Gowns have feared the frowns + Upon a "Baron's" brow. + + We remember, we remember + The flourishing of trumps, + When Parliament took up our wrongs, + And manned the legal pumps. + Those noble Acts (they said) would end + Obstructions and delay, + And ne'er again would litigants + The piper have to pay. + + I remember, I remember + Expenses, mountains high; + I used to think, when duly "taxed," + They'd vanish by-and-by. + It was a foolish confidence, + But now 'tis little joy + To know that Law's as slow and dear + As when I was a boy! + + * * * * * + +THE HERO OF THE SUMMER SALE. + +(_BY OUR OWN PRIVATE AND CONFIDENTIAL POETESS_.) + +[Illustration] + + I would I loved some belted Earl, + Some Baronet, or K.C.B., + But I'm a most unhappy girl, + And no such luck's in store for me! + I would I loved some Soldier bold, + Who leads his troops where cannons pop, + But if the bitter truth be told-- + I love a man who walks a shop! + For oh! a King of Men is he-- + With princely strut and stiffened spine-- + So his, and his alone, shall be, + This fondly foolish heart of mine! + + On Remnant Days--from morn till night, + When blows fall fast, and words run high, + When frenzied females fiercely fight + For bargains that they long to buy-- + From hot attack he does not flinch, + But stands his ground with visage pale, + And all the time looks every inch + The Hero of that Summer Sale! + For oh! a King of Men is he-- + Whom shop-assistants call to "Sign!" + So his, and his alone, shall be + This fondly foolish heart of mine! + + * * * * * + +MONDAY, _Jan._ 18, 1892. "Bath and West of England's Society's Cheese +School at Frome." Of this School, the _Times_, judging by results, +speaks highly of "the practical character of the instruction given +at the School." This is a bad look-out for Eton and Harrow, not +to say for Winchester and Westminster also. All parents who wish +their children to be "quite the cheese" in Society generally, and +particularly for Bath and the West of England, where, of course, +Society is remarkably exclusive, cannot do better, it is evident, +than send them to the Bath and West of England Cheese School. + + * * * * * + +ON THE TRAILL.--It is suggested that in future M.P. should stand for +Minor Poet. Would this satisfy Mr. LEWIS MORRIS? Or would he insist on +being gazetted as a Major? + + * * * * * + +OUR BOOKING-OFFICE. + +[Illustration: The following Page.] + +One of the Baron's Deputy-Readers has been looking through Mr. +G.W. HENLEY's _Lyra Heroica; a Book of Verse for Boys_. DAVID NUTT, +London.) This is his appreciation:--Mr. HENLEY has tacked his name +to a collection which contains some noble poems, some (but not much) +trash, and a good many pieces, which, however poetical they may be, +are certainly not heroic, seeing that they do not express "the simpler +sentiments, and the more elemental emotions" (I use Mr. HENLEY's +prefatory words), and are scarcely the sort of verse that boys are +likely, or ought to care about. To be sure, Mr. HENLEY guards himself +on the score of his "personal equation"--I trust his boys understand +what he means. My own personal equation makes me doubt whether Mr. +HENLEY has done well in including such pieces as, for instance, +HERBERT's "_Memento Mori_," CURRAN's "_The Deserter_," SWINBURNE's +"_The Oblation_," and ALFRED AUSTIN's "_Is Life Worth Living_?" If Mr. +HENLEY, or anybody else who happens to possess a personal equation, +will point out to me the heroic quality in these poems, I shall feel +deeply grateful. And how, in the name of all that is or ever was +heroic, has "_Auld Lang Syne_" crept into this collection of heroic +verse? As for Mr. ALFRED AUSTIN, I cannot think by what right he +secures a place in such a compilation. I have rarely read a piece +of his which did not contain at least one glaring infelicity. In +"_Is Life Worth Living_?" he tells us of "blithe herds," which (in +compliance with the obvious necessities of rhyme, but for no other +reason) + + "Wend homeward with unweary feet, + Carolling like the birds." + +Further on we find that + + "England's trident-sceptre roams + Her territorial seas," + +merely because the unfortunate sceptre has to rhyme somehow to +"English homes." + +But I have a further complaint against Mr. HENLEY. He presumes, in the +most fantastic manner, to alter the well-known titles of celebrated +poems. "_The Isles of Greece_" is made to masquerade as "The Glory +that was Greece"; "_Auld Lang Syne_" becomes "The Goal of Life," and +"_Tom Bowline_" is converted into "The Perfect Sailor." This surely +(again I use the words of Mr. HENLEY) "is a thing preposterous, and +distraught." On the whole, I cannot think that Mr. HENLEY has done +his part well. His manner is bad. His selection, it seems to me, is +open to grave censure, on broader grounds than the mere personally +equational of which he speaks, and his choppings, and sub-titles, +and so forth, are not commendable. The irony of literary history has +apparently ordained that Mr. HENLEY should first patronise, and then +"cut," both CAMPBELL and MACAULAY. Was the shade of MACAULAY disturbed +when he learnt that Mr. HENLEY considered his "_Battle of Naseby_" +both "vicious and ugly"? + +BARON DE BOOK-WORMS & CO. + + * * * * * + +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, Volume +102, January 30, 1892, by Various + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PUNCH *** + +***** This file should be named 14272-8.txt or 14272-8.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/1/4/2/7/14272/ + +Produced by Malcolm Farmer, William Flis, and the PG 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, Or The London Charivari, Volume 102, January 30, 1892 + +Author: Various + +Release Date: December 6, 2004 [EBook #14272] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PUNCH *** + + + + +Produced by Malcolm Farmer, William Flis, and the PG Online +Distributed Proofreading Team + + + + + + +</pre> + + <h1>PUNCH,<br /> + OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.</h1> + + <h2>Vol. 102.</h2> + <hr class="full" /> + + <h2>January 30, 1892.</h2> + <hr class="full" /> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page49" + id="page49"></a>[pg 49]</span> + + <h2>CONFESSIONS OF A DUFFER.</h2> + + <h3>III.—THE LITERARY DUFFER.</h3> + + <div class="figright" + style="width:50%;"> + <a href="images/49.png"><img width="100%" + src="images/49.png" + alt="'I have worn a cloak and a Tyrolese hat, and attitudinised in the Picture-galleries.'" /> + </a>"I have worn a cloak and a Tyrolese hat, and + attitudinised in the Picture-galleries." + </div> + + <p>Why I am not a success in literature it is difficult for me + to tell; indeed, I would give a good deal to anyone who would + explain the reason. The Publishers, and Editors, and Literary + Men decline to tell me <i>why</i> they do not want my + contributions. I am sure I have done all that I can to succeed. + When my Novel, <i>Geoffrey's Cousin</i>, comes back from the + Row, I do not lose heart—I pack it up, and send it off + again to the Square, and so, I may say, it goes the round. The + very manuscript attests the trouble I have taken. Parts of it + are written in my own hand, more in that of my housemaid, to + whom I have dictated passages; a good deal is in the hand of my + wife. There are sentences which I have written a dozen times, + on the margins, with lines leading up to them in red ink. The + story is written on paper of all sorts and sizes, and bits of + paper are pasted on, here and there, containing revised + versions of incidents and dialogue. The whole packet is now far + from clean, and has a business-like and travelled air about it, + which should command respect. I always accompany it with a + polite letter, expressing my willingness to cut it down, or + expand it, or change the conclusion. Nobody can say that I am + proud. But it always comes back from the Publishers and + Editors, without any explanation as to why it will not do. This + is what I resent as particularly hard. The Publishers decline + to tell me what their Readers have really said about it. I have + forwarded <i>Geoffrey's Cousin</i> to at least five or six + notorious authors, with a letter, which runs thus:—</p> + + <blockquote> + <p>"DEAR SIR,—You will be surprised at receiving a + letter from a total stranger, but your well-known goodness + of heart must plead my excuse. I am aware that your time is + much occupied, but I am certain that you will spare enough + of that valuable commodity to glance through the + accompanying MS. Novel, and give me your frank opinion of + it. Does it stand in need of any alterations, and, if so, + what? Would you mind having it published <i>under your own + name</i>, receiving one-third of the profits? A speedy + answer will greatly oblige."</p> + </blockquote> + + <p>Would you believe it, <i>Mr. Punch</i>, not one of these + over-rated and overpaid men has ever given me any advice at + all? Most of them simply send back my parcel with no reply. + One, however, wrote to say that he received at least six such + packets every week, and that his engagements made it impossible + for him to act as a guide, counsellor, and friend to the + amateurs of all England. He added that, if I published the + Novel at my own expense, the remarks of the public critics + would doubtless prove most valuable and salutary.</p> + + <p>This decided me; I <i>did</i> publish, at my own expense, + with Messrs. SAUL, SAMUEL, MOSS & CO. I had to pay down + £150, then £35 for advertisements, then £70 for Publisher's + Commission. Other expenses fell grievously on me, as I sent + round printed postcards to everyone whose name is in the Red + Book, asking them to ask for <i>Geoffrey's Cousin</i> at the + Libraries. I also despatched six copies, with six anonymous + letters, to Mr. GLADSTONE, signing them, "A Literary + Constituent," "A Wavering Anabaptist," and so forth, but, + extraordinary to relate, I have received no answer, and no + notice has been taken of my disinterested presents. The reviews + were of the most meagre and scornful description. Messrs. SAUL, + SAMUEL, Moss & Co. have just written to me, begging me to + remove the "remainder" of my book, and charging £23 + 15<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i> for warehouse expenses. Yet, when I + read <i>Geoffrey's Cousin</i>, I fail to see that it falls, in + any way, beneath the general run of novels. I enclose a marked + copy, and solicit your earnest attention for the passage in + which <i>Geoffrey's Cousin</i> blights his hopes for ever. The + story, Sir, is one of controversy, and is suited to this time. + <i>Geoffrey McPhun</i> is an Auld Licht (see Mr. BARRIE's + books, <i>passim</i>). His cousin is an Esoteric Buddhist. They + love each other dearly, but <i>Geoffrey</i>, a rigid character, + cannot marry any lady who does not burn, as an Auld Licht, + "with a hard gem-like flame." <i>Violet Blair</i>, his cousin, + is just as staunch an Esoteric Buddhist. Nothing stands between + them but the differences of their creed.</p> + + <p>"How can I contemplate, GEOFFREY," said VIOLET, with a rich + blush, "the possibility of seeing our little ones stray from + the fold of the Lama of Thibet into a chapel of the Original + Secession Church?"</p> + + <p>They determine to try to convert each other. <i>Geoffrey</i> + lends <i>Violet</i> all his theological library, including + WODROW's <i>Analecta</i>. She lends him the learned works of + Mr. SINNETT and Madame BLAVATSKY. They retire, he to the + Himalayas, she to Thrums, and their letters compose Volume II. + (Local colour <i>à la</i> KIPLING and BARRIE.) On the slopes of + the Himalayas you see <i>Geoffrey</i> converted; he becomes a + Cheela, and returns by overland route. He rushes to Ramsgate, + and announces his complete acceptance of the truth as it is in + Mahatmaism. Alas! alas! <i>Violet</i> has been over-persuaded + by the seductions of Presbyterianism, she has hurried down from + Thrums, rejoicing, a full-blown Auld Licht. And, in her + <i>Geoffrey</i>, she finds a convinced Esoteric Buddhist! They + are no better off than they were, their union is impossible, + and Vol. III. ends in their poignant anguish.</p> + + <p>Now, <i>Mr. Punch</i>, is not this the very novel for the + times; rich in adventure (in Kafiristan), teeming with + philosophical suggestiveness, and sparkling with all the + epigrams of my commonplace book. Yet I am about £300 out of + pocket, and, moreover, a blighted being.</p> + + <p>I have taken every kind of pains; I have asked London + Correspondents to dinner; I have written flattering letters to + everybody; I have attempted to get up a deputation of Beloochis + to myself; I have tried to make people interview me; I have + puffed myself in all the modes which study and research can + suggest. If anybody has, I have been "up to date." But Fortune + is my foe, and I see others flourish by the very arts which + fail in my hands.</p> + + <p>I mention my Novel because its failure really is a mystery. + But I am not at all more fortunate in the reception of my + poetry. I have tried it every way—ballades by the bale, + sonnets by the dozen, loyal odes, seditious songs, drawing-room + poetry, an Epic on the history of Labducuo, erotic verse, all + fire, foam, and fangs, reflective ditto, humble natural ballads + about signal-men and newspaper-boys, Life-boat rescues, Idyls, + Nocturnes in rhyme, tragedies in blank verse. Nobody will print + them, or, if anybody prints them, he regrets that he cannot pay + for them. My moral and discursive essays are rejected, my + descriptions of nature do not even get into the newspapers. I + have not been elected by the Sydenham Club (a clique of + humbugs); I have let my hair grow long; I have worn a cloak and + a Tyrolese hat, and attitudinised in the picture-galleries, but + nobody asked who I am. I have endeavoured to hang on to + well-known poets and novelists—they have not welcomed my + advances.</p> + + <p>My last dodge was a Satire, the <i>Logrolliad</i>, in which + I lashed the charlatans and pretenders of the day.</p> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>While hoary statesmen scribble in reviews</p> + + <p>And guide the doubtful verdict of the Blues,</p> + + <p>While HAGGARD scrawls, with blood in lieu of + ink,</p> + + <p>While MALLOCK teaches Marquises to think,</p> + </div> + </div> + + <p>so long I have rhythmically expressed my design to wield the + dripping scourge of satire. But nobody seems a penny the worse, + and I am not a paragraph the better. Short stories of a + startling description fill my drawers, nobody will venture on + one of them. I have closely imitated every writer who succeeds, + but my little barque may attendant sail, it pursues the + triumph, but does not partake the gale.</p> + + <p>I am now engaged on a Libretto for an heroic opera.</p> + + <p>What offers?</p> + <hr /> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page50" + id="page50"></a>[pg 50]</span> + + <div class="figcenter" + style="width:100%;"> + <a href="images/50.png"><img width="100%" + src="images/50.png" + alt="THE IMPERIAL JACK-IN-THE-BOX." /></a> + + <h3>THE IMPERIAL JACK-IN-THE-BOX.</h3><i>Chorus</i> + (<i>Everybody</i>). "EVERYTHING IN ORDER EVERYWHERE! O! + WHAT A SURPRISE! SOLD AGAIN!" + </div> + <hr /> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page51" + id="page51"></a>[pg 51]</span> + + <h2>THE IMPERIAL JACK-IN-THE-BOX.</h2> + + <h3>A SONG FOR THE SHOUTING EMPEROR.</h3> + + <h4>AIR—"<i>The Major-General.</i>"</h4> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>I am the very pattern of a Modern German + Emperor,</p> + + <p>Omniscient and omnipotent, I ne'er give way to + temper, or</p> + + <p>If now and then I run a-muck in a Malay-like + fashion,</p> + + <p>As there's method in my madness, so there's purpose + in my passion.</p> + + <p>'Tis my aim to manage <i>everything</i> in order + categorical—</p> + + <p>My fame as Cosmos-maker I intend shall be + historical.</p> + + <p>I know they call me <i>Paul Pry</i>, say I'm fussy + and pragmatical—</p> + + <p>But that's because sheer moonshine always hates the + mathematical.</p> + + <p>I'm not content to "play the King" with an imperial + pose in it—</p> + + <p>Whatever is marked "Private" I shall up and poke my + nose in it.</p> + </div> + </div> + + <center> + ALL. + </center> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p><i>He</i> won't let drowsing dogs lie, he'll stir up + the tabby sleeping Tom—</p> + + <p>In fact, he is the model of a modern German Peeping + Tom!</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>I bounce into the Ball-Room when they think I'm fast + asleep at home,</p> + + <p>And measure steps and skirts and things and mark + what state folks keep at home;</p> + + <p>Watch the toilette of young Beauty on the very + strictest Q.T. too,</p> + + <p>Evangelise the Army and keep sentries to their duty, + too,</p> + + <p>On the Navy, and the Clergy, and the Schools, my + wise eyes shoot lights, Sir.</p> + + <p>I'm awfully particular to regulate the footlights, + Sir.</p> + + <p>I preach sermons to my soldiers and arrange their + "duds" and duels, too,</p> + + <p>And tallow their poor noses, when they've colds, and + mix their gruels, too;</p> + + <p>I'll make everybody moral, and obedient, and frugal, + Sir—</p> + + <p>In fact I'm an Imperial edition of MCDOUGALL, + Sir!</p> + </div> + </div> + + <center> + ALL. + </center> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>He'd compel us to drink water and restrain us when + to wed agog;</p> + + <p>In fact he is the model of a Modern German + pedagogue.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>I've all the god-like attributes, omniscient, + ubiquitous,</p> + + <p>I mean to squelch free impulse, which is commonly + iniquitous.</p> + + <p>But what's the good of being Chief Inspector of the + Universe,</p> + + <p>And prying into everything from pompous Law to puny + verse,</p> + + <p>If everything or nearly so, shows a confounded + tendency</p> + + <p><i>To go right of its own accord</i>? My Masterful + Resplendency</p> + + <p>Would radiate aurorally, a world would gaze on + trustingly</p> + + <p>If only things in general wouldn't go on so + disgustingly.</p> + + <p>Where <i>is</i> the pull of being Earth's Inspector + autocratical,</p> + + <p>When the Progress <i>I</i>'d be motor of seems + mainly automatical?</p> + </div> + </div> + + <center> + ALL. + </center> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Hooray! My would-be Jupiter, a <i>parvenu</i> is + told again</p> + + <p>He's not the true Olympian, Jack-in-the-Box is "Sold + Again!!!"</p> + </div> + </div> + <hr /> + + <p>"ARTIFICIAL OYSTER-CULTIVATION," read Mrs. R., as the + heading of a par in the <i>Times</i>. "Good gracious!" she + exclaimed, "who on earth would ever think of eating 'artificial + oysters!'"</p> + <hr /> + + <p>NOTHING is certain in this life except Death, Quarter Day + and stoppage for ten minutes at Swindon Station.</p> + <hr /> + + <div class="figcenter" + style="width:65%;"> + <a href="images/51.png"><img width="100%" + src="images/51.png" + alt="SO CONVENIENT!" /></a> + + <h3>SO CONVENIENT!</h3> + + <p><i>Young Wife</i>. "WHERE ARE YOU GOING, REGGIE + DEAR?"</p> + + <p><i>Reggie Dear</i>. "ONLY TO THE CLUB, MY DARLING."</p> + + <p><i>Young Wife</i>. "OH, I DON'T MIND THAT, BECAUSE + THERE'S A TELEPHONE THERE, AND I CAN TALK TO YOU THROUGH + IT, CAN'T I?"</p> + + <p><i>Reggie</i>. "Y-YES—BUT—ER—YOU KNOW, + THE CONFOUNDED WIRES ARE ALWAYS GETTING OUT OF ORDER!"</p> + </div> + <hr /> + + <h2>PARLIAMENT À LA MODE DE PARIS.</h2> + + <blockquote> + <p>SCENE—<i>The Chamber during a Debate of an + exciting character</i>. Member <i>with a newspaper + occupying the Tribune</i>.</p> + </blockquote> + + <p><i>Member</i>. I ask if the report in this paper is true? It + calls the Minister a scoundrel! [<i>Frantic applause.</i></p> + + <p><i>President</i>. I must interpose. It is not right that + such a document should be read.</p> + + <p><i>Member</i>. But it is true. I hold in my hand this + truth-telling sheet. (<i>Shouts of</i> "<i>Well done</i>!") + This admirable journal describes the Minister as a trickster, a + man without a heart! [<i>Yells of approbation.</i></p> + + <p><i>President</i>. I warn the Member that he is going too + far. He is outraging the public conscience. ["<i>Hear! + hear</i>!"</p> + + <p><i>Member</i>. It is you that outrage the public conscience. + [<i>Sensation.</i></p> + + <p><i>President</i>. This is too much! If I hear another word + of insult, I will assume my hat.</p> + + <blockquote> + <p>[<i>Profound and long-continued agitation.</i></p> + </blockquote> + + <p><i>Member</i>. A hat is better than a turned coat! + (<i>Thunders of applause.</i>) I say that this paper is full of + wholesome things, and that when it denounces the Minister as a + good-for-nothing, as a slanderer, as a thief—it does but + its duty.</p> + + <blockquote> + <p>[<i>Descends from the Tribune amidst tumultuous + applause, and is met by the</i> Minister. <i>Grand + altercation, with results.</i></p> + </blockquote> + + <p><i>Minister's Friends</i>. What have you done to him?</p> + + <p><i>Minister</i> (<i>with dignity</i>). I have avenged my + honour—I have hit him in the eye!</p> + + <blockquote> + <p>[<i>Scene closes in upon the</i> Minister <i>receiving + hearty congratulations from all sides of the + Chamber.</i></p> + </blockquote> + <hr /> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page52" + id="page52"></a>[pg 52]</span> + + <h2>PRESERVED VENICE.</h2> + + <h4>(<i>Specially Imported for the London Market.</i>)</h4> + + <h3>A SATURDAY NIGHT SCENE AT OLYMPIA.</h3> + + <h4>IN THE PROMENADE.</h4> + + <blockquote> + <p><i>A Pessimistic Matron</i> (<i>the usual beady and + bugle-y female, who takes all her pleasure as a + penance</i>). Well, they may <i>call</i> it "Venice," but + <i>I</i> don't see no difference from what it was when the + Barnum Show was + 'ere—except—(<i>regretfully</i>)—that + then they 'ad the Freaks o' Nature, and Jumbo's + skelinton!</p> + </blockquote> + + <div class="figright" + style="width:65%;"> + <a href="images/52.png"><img width="100%" + src="images/52.png" + alt="'I'm sure I'm 'ighly flattered, Mum, but I'm already suited.'" /> + </a>"I'm sure I'm 'ighly flattered, Mum, but I'm already + suited." + </div> + + <p><i>Her Husband</i> (<i>an Optimist—less from + conviction than contradiction</i>). There you go, MARIA, + finding fault the minute you've put your nose inside! We ain't + <i>in</i> Venice yet. It's up at the top o' them steps.</p> + + <p><i>The P.M.</i> Up all them stairs? Well, I 'ope it'll be + worth seeing when we <i>do</i> get there, that's all!</p> + + <p><i>An Attendant</i> (<i>as she arrives at the top</i>). Not + this door, Ma'am—next entrance for Modern Venice.</p> + + <p><i>The Opt. Husb.</i> You needn't go all the way down again, + when the steps join like that!</p> + + <p><i>The P.M.</i> I'm not going to walk + sideways—<i>I</i>'m not a crab, JOE, whatever <i>you</i> + may think. (JOE <i>assents, with reservations</i>). Now + wherever have those other two got to? 'urrying off that way! + Oh, <i>there</i> they are. 'Ere, LIZZIE and JEM, keep along o' + me and Father, do, or we shan't see half of what's to be + seen!</p> + + <p><i>Lizzie</i>. Oh, all right, Ma; don't you worry so! + (<i>To</i> JEM, <i>her fiancé</i>.) Don't those tall fellows + look smart with the red feathers in their cocked 'ats? What do + they call <i>them</i>?</p> + + <p><i>Jem</i> (<i>a young man, who thinks for himself</i>). + Well, I shouldn't wonder if those were the parties they call + "Doges"—sort o' police over there, d'ye see?</p> + + <p><i>Lizzie</i>. They're 'andsomer than 'elmets, I will say + <i>that</i> for them. (<i>They enter Modern Venice, amidst + cries of "This way for Gondoala Tickets! Pass along, please! + Keep to your right</i>!" &c., &c.) It <i>does</i> have + a foreign look, with all those queer names written up. Think + it's like what it is, JEM?</p> + + <p><i>Jem</i>. Bound to be, with all the money they've spent on + it. I daresay they've idle-ised it a bit, though.</p> + + <p><i>The P.M.</i> Where are all these kinals they talk so much + about? I don't see none!</p> + + <p><i>Jem</i> (<i>as a break in the crowd reveals a narrow + olive-green channel</i>). Why, what d'ye call <i>that</i>, + Ma?</p> + + <p><i>The P.M.</i> That a kinal! Why, you don't mean to tell me + any barge 'ud—</p> + + <p><i>The Opt. Husb.</i> Go on!—you didn't suppose you'd + find the Paddington Canal in <i>these</i> parts, did you? This + is big enough for all <i>they</i> want. (<i>A gondola goes by + lurchily, crowded with pot-hatted passengers, smoking pipes, + and wearing the uncomfortable smile of children enjoying their + first elephant-ride.</i>) That's one o' these 'ere + gondoalers—it's a rum-looking concern, ain't it? But I + suppose you get <i>used</i> to + 'em—(<i>philosophically</i>)—like everything + else!</p> + + <p><i>The P.M.</i> It gives me the creeps to look at 'em. Talk + about <i>'earses</i>!</p> + + <p><i>The Opt. Husb.</i> Well, look 'ere, we've come out to + enjoy ourselves—what d'ye say to having a ride in one, + eh?</p> + + <p><i>The P.M.</i> You won't ketch me trusting <i>my</i>self in + one o' them tituppy things, so don't you deceive yourself!</p> + + <p><i>The Opt. Husb.</i> Oh, it's on'y two foot o' warm water + if you do tip over. <i>Come</i> on! (<i>Hailing</i> Gondolier, + <i>who has just landed his cargo.</i>) 'Ere, 'ow much'll you + take the lot of us for, hey?</p> + + <p><i>Gondolier</i> (<i>gesticulating</i>). Teekits! you tek + teekits—là—you vait!</p> + + <p><i>Jem</i>. He means we've got to go to the orfice and take + tickets and stand in a cue, d'yer see?</p> + + <p><i>The P.M.</i> Me go and form a cue down there and get + squeeged like at the Adelphi Pit, all to set in a rickety + gondoaler! I can see all <i>I</i> want to see without messing + about in one o' them things!</p> + + <p><i>The Others</i>. Well, I dunno as it's worth the extry + sixpence, come to think of it. (<i>They pass on, + contentedly.</i>)</p> + + <p><i>Jem</i>. We're on the Rialto Bridge now, LIZZIE, d'ye + see? The one in SHAKSPEARE, <i>you</i> know.</p> + + <p><i>Lizzie</i>. That's the one they call the "Bridge o' + Sighs," ain't it? (<i>Hazily.</i>) Is that because there's + <i>shops</i> on it?</p> + + <p><i>Jem</i>. I dessay. Shops—or else suicides.</p> + + <p><i>Lizzie</i> (<i>more hazily than ever</i>). Ah, the same + as the Monument. (<i>They walk on with a sense of mental + enlargement.</i>)</p> + + <p><i>Mrs. Lavender Salt</i>. It's wonderfully like the real + thing, LAVENDER, isn't it? Of course they can't <i>quite</i> + get the true Venetian atmosphere!</p> + + <p><i>Mr. L.S.</i> Well, MIMOSA, they'd have the Sanitary + Authorities down on them if they <i>did</i>, you know!</p> + + <p><i>Mrs. L.S.</i> Oh, you're so horribly unromantic! But, + LAVENDER, couldn't we get one of those gondolas and go about. + It would be so lovely to be in one again, and fancy ourselves + back in dear Venice, now <i>wouldn't</i> it?</p> + + <p><i>Mr. L.S.</i> The illusion is cheap at sixpence; so come + along, MIMOSA!</p> + + <blockquote> + <p>[<i>He secures, tickets, and presently the</i> LAVENDER + SALTS, <i>find themselves part of a long queue, being + marshalled between barriers by Italian gendarmes in a state + of politely suppressed amusement.</i></p> + </blockquote> + + <p><i>Mrs. L.S.</i> (<i>over her shoulder to her husband, as + she imagines</i>). I'd no idea we should have to go through all + this! Must we really herd in with all these people? Can't we + two manage to get a gondola all to ourselves?</p> + + <p><i>A Voice</i> (<i>not</i> LAVENDER's—<i>in her + ear</i>). I'm sure I'm 'ighly flattered, Mum, but I'm already + suited; yn't I, DYSY?</p> + + <blockquote> + <p>[DYSY <i>corroborates his statement with unnecessary + emphasis.</i></p> + </blockquote> + + <p><i>A Sturdy Democrat</i> (<i>in front, over his + shoulder</i>). Pity yer didn't send word you was coming, Mum, + and then they'd ha' kep' the place clear of us common people + for yer! [Mrs. L.S. <i>is sorry she spoke.</i></p> + + <blockquote> + <p>IN THE GONDOLA.—Mr. <i>and</i> Mrs. L.S. <i>are + seated in the back seat, supported on one side by the</i> + Humorous 'ARRY <i>and his Fiancée, and on the other by a + pale, bloated youth, with a particularly rank cigar, and + the</i> Sturdy Democrat, <i>whose two small boys occupy the + seat in front.</i></p> + </blockquote> + + <p><i>The St. Dem.</i> (<i>with malice aforethought</i>). If + you two lads ain't <span class="pagenum"><a name="page53" + id="page53"></a>[pg 53]</span> got room there, I dessay this + lady won't mind takin' one of yer on her lap. (<i>To</i> + Mrs. L.S., <i>who is frozen with horror at the + suggestion.</i>) They're 'umin beans, Mum, like yerself!</p> + + <p><i>Mrs. L.S.</i> (<i>desperately ignoring her other + neighbours</i>). Isn't that lovely balcony there copied from + the one at the Pisani, LAVENDER—or is it the Contarini? I + forget.</p> + + <p><i>Mr. L.S.</i> Don't remember—got the Rialto rather + well, haven't they? I suppose that's intended for the dome of + the Salute down there—not quite the outline, though, if I + remember right. And, if that's the Campanile of St. Mark, the + colour's too brown, eh?</p> + + <p><i>The Hum. 'Arry</i> (<i>with intention</i>). Oh, I sy, + DYSY, yn't that the Kempynoily of Kennington Oval, right + oppersite? and 'aven't they got the Grand Kinel in the Ole Kent + Road proper, eh?</p> + + <p><i>Dysy</i> (<i>playing up to him, with enjoyment</i>). Jest + 'aven't they! On'y I don't quoite remember whether the colour + o' them gas-lamps is correct. But there, if we go on torkin' + this w'y, other parties might think we wanted to show orf!</p> + + <p><i>Mrs. L.S.</i> Do you remember our <i>last</i> gondola + expedition, LAVENDER, coming home from the Giudecca in that + splendid sunset?</p> + + <p><i>The Hum. A.</i> Recklect you and me roidin' 'ome from + Walworth on a rhinebow, DYSY, eh?</p> + + <p><i>Chorus of Chaff from the bridges and terraces as they + pass.</i> 'Ullo, 'ere comes another boat-load! 'Igher up, + there!... Four-wheeler!... Ain't that toff in the tall 'at + enjoyin' himself? Quite a 'appy funeral! &c., &c.</p> + + <p><i>Mrs. L.S.</i> (<i>faintly, as they enter the Canal in + front of the Stage</i>). LAVENDER, dear, I really can't stand + this <i>much</i> longer!</p> + + <p><i>Mr. L.S.</i> (<i>to the</i> Bloated Youth). Might I ask + you, Sir, not to puff your smoke in this lady's face—it's + extremely unpleasant for her!</p> + + <p><i>The B.Y.</i> All right, Mister, I'm always ready to + oblige a lydy—but—(<i>with wounded + pride</i>)—as to its bein' <i>unpleasant</i>, yer know, + all <i>I</i> can tell yer is—(<i>with + sarcasm</i>)—that this 'appens to be one of the best + tuppeny smokes in 'Ammersmith!</p> + + <p><i>Mr. L.S.</i> (<i>diplomatically</i>). I am sure of + that—from the aroma, but if you <i>could</i> kindly + postpone its enjoyment for a little while, we should be + extremely obliged!</p> + + <p><i>The B.Y.</i> Well, I must keep it <i>aloive</i>, yer + know. If there's anyone 'ere that understands cigars, they'll + bear me out as it never smokes the same when you once let it + out.</p> + + <blockquote> + <p>[<i>The other Passengers confirm him in this epicurean + dictum, whereupon he sucks the cigar at intervals + behind</i> Mrs. L.S.'s <i>back, during the remainder of the + trip.</i></p> + </blockquote> + + <p><i>Mr. L.S.</i> (<i>to</i> Mrs. L.S. <i>when they are alone + again</i>). Well, MIMOSA, illusion successful, eh? <i>Mrs. + L.S.</i> Oh, <i>don't</i>!</p> + <hr /> + + <div class="figcenter" + style="width:50%;"> + <a href="images/53-1.png"><img width="100%" + src="images/53-1.png" + alt="ABOMINATIONS OF MODERN SCIENCE." /></a> + + <h3>ABOMINATIONS OF MODERN SCIENCE.</h3>MARIANA ARRIVES AT + THE MOATED GRANGE (AFTER A LONG, DAMP JOURNEY) JUST IN TIME + TO DRESS FOR DINNER, AND FINDS, TO HER SORROW, THAT HER + ROOM IS WARMED BY HOT WATER PIPES AND LIGHTED BY + ELECTRICITY. + </div> + <hr /> + + <h2>TO MY CIGARETTE.</h2> + + <div class="figright" + style="width:50%;"> + <a href="images/53-2.png"><img width="100%" + src="images/53-2.png" + alt="" /></a> + </div> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>My own, my loved, my Cigarette,</p> + + <p class="i2">My dainty joy disguised in tissue,</p> + + <p>What fate can make your slave regret</p> + + <p class="i2">The day when first he dared to kiss + you?</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>I had smoked briars, like to most</p> + + <p class="i2">Who joy in smoking, and had been a</p> + + <p>Too ready prey to those who boast</p> + + <p class="i2">Their bonded stores of Reina Fina.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>In honeydew had steeped my soul</p> + + <p class="i2">Had been of cherry pipes a cracker,</p> + + <p>And watched the creamy meerschaum's bowl</p> + + <p class="i2">Grow weekly, daily, hourly blacker.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Read CALVERLEY and learnt by heart</p> + + <p class="i2">The lines he celebrates the weed in;</p> + + <p>And blew my smoke in rings, an art</p> + + <p class="i2">That many try, but few succeed in.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>In fact of nearly every style</p> + + <p class="i2">Of smoke I was a kindly critic,</p> + + <p>Though I had found Manillas vile,</p> + + <p class="i2">And Trichinopolis mephitic.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>The stout tobacco-jar became</p> + + <p class="i2">Within my smoking-room a fixture;</p> + + <p>I heard my friends extol by name</p> + + <p class="i2">Each one his own peculiar mixture.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>And tried them every one in turn</p> + + <p class="i2">(<i>O varium, tobacco, semper</i>!);</p> + + <p>The strong I found too apt to burn</p> + + <p class="i2">My tongue, the week to try my temper.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>And all were failures, and I grew</p> + + <p class="i2">More tentative and undecided,</p> + + <p>Consulted friends, and found they knew</p> + + <p class="i2">As little as or less than I did.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Havannah yielded up her pick</p> + + <p class="i2">Of prime cigars to my fruition;</p> + + <p>I bought a case, and some went "sick."</p> + + <p class="i2">The rest were never in condition.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Until in sheer fatigue I turned</p> + + <p class="i2">To you, tobacco's white-robed tyro,</p> + + <p>And from your golden legend learned</p> + + <p class="i2">Your maker dwelt and wrought in + Cairo.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>O worshipped wheresoe'er I roam,</p> + + <p class="i2">As fondly as a wife by some is,</p> + + <p>Waif from the far Egyptian home</p> + + <p class="i2">Of Pharaohs, crocodiles, and mummies;</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Beloved, in spite of jeer and frown;</p> + + <p class="i2">The more the Philistines assail you,</p> + + <p>The more the doctors run you down,</p> + + <p class="i2">The more I puff you—and inhale + you.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Though worn with toil and vexed with strife</p> + + <p class="i2">(Ye smokers all, attend and hear me),</p> + + <p>Undaunted still I live my life,</p> + + <p class="i2">With you, my Cigarette, to cheer me.</p> + </div> + </div> + <hr /> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page54" + id="page54"></a>[pg 54]</span> + + <div class="figcenter" + style="width:65%;"> + <a href="images/54.png"><img width="100%" + src="images/54.png" + alt="SOMETHING WRONG SOMEWHERE." /></a> + + <h3>SOMETHING WRONG SOMEWHERE.</h3> + + <p>"HOW CHARMING YOU LOOK, DEAR MRS. BELLAMY—AS + USUAL! <i>WOULD</i> YOU MIND TELLING ME WHO MAKES YOUR + LOVELY FROCKS? I'M <i>SO</i> DISSATISFIED WITH MY + DRESSMAKER!"</p> + + <p>"OH, CERTAINLY. MRS. CHIFFONNETTE, OF BOND STREET."</p> + + <p>"CHIFFONNETTE! WHY, I'VE BEEN TO HER FOR YEARS! THE + WRETCH! I WONDER WHY SHE SUITS YOU SO MUCH BETTER, + NOW!"</p> + </div> + <hr /> + + <h2>A TALK OVER THE TUB;</h2> + + <h3><i>Or, Legal Laundresses in Council.</i></h3> + + <blockquote class="note"> + <p>["The whole legal machinery is out of gear, and the + country is too busy to put it right."—<i>Law + Times</i>.]</p> + </blockquote> + + <h4><i>A Leading Laundress.</i></h4> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p class="i2">Wich I say, Missis 'ALSBURY, Mum,</p> + + <p class="i2">We are all getting into a quand'ry;</p> + + <p>You and me can no longer be dumb,</p> + + <p class="i2">Seein' how we're the heads of the + Laundry:</p> + + <p>It is all very well to stand 'ere,</p> + + <p class="i2">Sooperintending the soaping and + rinsing;</p> + + <p>Old pleas for delay, I much fear,</p> + + <p class="i2">Are no longer entirely conwincing.</p> + + <p>Just look at the Linen—in 'eaps!</p> + + <p class="i2">And no one can say it ain't dirty!</p> + + <p>Our clients, a-grumbling they keeps,</p> + + <p class="i2">And some of 'em seem getting shirty.</p> + + <p>Wotever, my dear, shall we do?</p> + + <p class="i2">Two parties 'as axed me that + question;</p> + + <p>And now I just puts it to <i>you</i>,</p> + + <p class="i2">And I 'ope you can make some + suggestion.</p> + </div> + </div> + + <h4><i>Head Laundress.</i></h4> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>My dear Missis COLEY, I own</p> + + <p class="i2"><i>I</i> ain't heard from the parties you + 'int at.</p> + + <p>But them Linen-'eaps certny <i>has</i> grown,</p> + + <p class="i2">Wich their bulk I 'ave just took a squint + at.</p> + + <p>We sud, and we rub, and we scrub.</p> + + <p class="i2">And the pile 'ardly seems to + diminish.</p> + + <p>It tires us poor Slaves of the Tub,</p> + + <p class="i2">And the doose only knows when we'll + finish,</p> + </div> + </div> + + <h4><i>A Leading Laundress.</i></h4> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Percisely, my dear, but it's <i>that</i>,</p> + + <p class="i2">As the Public insists upon knowin',</p> + + <p>Missis MATHEW 'as told me so, pat,</p> + + <p class="i2">Wich likeways 'as good Missis BOWEN.</p> + + <p>You can't floor their argyments, quite,</p> + + <p class="i2">'Owsomever you twirl 'em or 'twist + 'em;</p> + + <p>They say, and I fear they are right,</p> + + <p class="i2">There is somethink all wrong with our + System!</p> + </div> + </div> + + <h4><i>Head Laundress.</i></h4> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p><i>Our</i> System! Well, well, my good soul,</p> + + <p class="i2">You know 'twasn't <i>us</i> as inwented + it.</p> + + <p>We wouldn't have got into this 'ole,</p> + + <p class="i2">If <i>you</i> and <i>me</i> could 'ave + perwented it.</p> + + <p>I know there's no end of a block,</p> + + <p class="i2">That expenses is running up awfully;</p> + + <p>The sight of it gives me a shock,</p> + + <p class="i2">But 'ow can we alter + it—<i>lawfully</i>?</p> + </div> + </div> + + <h4><i>A Leading Laundress.</i></h4> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>I fear, Mum, I very much fear,</p> + + <p class="i2">That word doesn't strike so much + terror</p> + + <p>As once on the dull public ear;</p> + + <p class="i2">Times change. Mum, they do, make no + error!</p> + + <p>Our clients complain of the cost,</p> + + <p class="i2">And lots of Commercials is leaving + us.</p> + + <p>I think, Mum, afore more is lost,</p> + + <p class="i2">We had best own the block is—well + grieving us!</p> + </div> + </div> + + <h4><i>Head Laundress.</i></h4> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>There can't be no 'arm, dear, in <i>that</i>.</p> + + <p class="i2">Let's write to the papers and 'int + it.</p> + + <p>I know with your pen you are pat,</p> + + <p class="i2">And the <i>Times</i> will be 'appy to + print it.</p> + + <p>If we are to git through <i>that</i> lot,</p> + + <p class="i2">We must 'ave some more 'elp—that's + my notion!</p> + + <p>Let's strike whilst the iron is 'ot,</p> + + <p class="i2">The Public may trust our dewotion.</p> + + <p>We'll call the chief Laundresses round;</p> + + <p class="i2">Some way we no doubt shall discover.</p> + + <p>At least, dear, 'twill 'ave a good sound,</p> + + <p class="i2">If we meet, and—well <i>talk the + thing over!</i></p> + </div> + </div> + + <blockquote> + <p>[<i>Left doing so.</i></p> + </blockquote> + <hr /> + + <h3>A MENU FROM HATFIELD.</h3> + + <h4>POTAGES.</h4> + + <center> + Consommé de Neveu aux Balles de Golf. + </center> + + <center> + Au Jo poché. + </center> + + <h4>ENTRÉES.</h4> + + <center> + Suprême de Livres Bleus. + </center> + + <center> + Irlandais Sauvages en Culottes. + </center> + + <center> + Filou Mignon Randolph, Sauce Tartarin. + </center> + + <center> + Dégoût de Goschen à la Financière. + </center> + + <h4>RÔTS.</h4> + + <center> + Canards Portuguais. + </center> + + <center> + Entrecôte d'Afrique à l'Allemande. + </center> + + <h4>RELEVÉS.</h4> + + <center> + Terrine de Fermes Vendues à la Parnell. + </center> + + <center> + Pâté de Loi à l'Ordre Publique. + </center> + + <h4>LÉGUMES.</h4> + + <center> + Petits Soupçons Français, Sauce Égyptienne. + </center> + + <center> + Vêpres Ceçiliennes. + </center> + + <h4>ENTREMETS.</h4> + + <center> + Absorbé de Birmingham. + </center> + + <center> + Succès de Whitehall aux Affaires Étrangères. + </center> + + <h4>DESSERT.</h4> + + <center> + Amendes Parlementaires. + </center> + + <center> + Raisons de Plus en Défaites. + </center> + <hr /> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page55" + id="page55"></a>[pg 55]</span> + + <div class="figcenter" + style="width:100%;"> + <a href="images/55.png"><img width="100%" + src="images/55.png" + alt="'SHORT 'ANDED.'" /></a> + + <h3>"SHORT 'ANDED."</h3>MRS. H-LSB-RY. "I TELL YOU WHAT IT + IS, MRS. COLEY, MUM,—IF ALL THIS 'ERE DIRTY LINEN'S + TO BE GOT THROUGH, WE MUST 'AVE <i>'ELP</i>, MUM!!" + </div> + <hr /> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page57" + id="page57"></a>[pg 57]</span> + + <h2>"THE MUSIC IN OUR STREET."</h2> + + <h4>(<i>A word from a Girl who lives in it.</i>)</h4> + + <div class="figcenter" + style="width:100%;"> + <a href="images/57.png"><img width="100%" + src="images/57.png" + alt="" /></a> + </div> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Did you ever 'ear our music? What, never? + <i>There</i>'s a shame;</p> + + <p>I tell yer it's golopshus, we do 'ave such a + game.</p> + + <p>When the sun's a-shinin' brightly, when the fog's + upon the town,</p> + + <p>When the frost 'as bust the water-pipes, when rain + comes pourin' down;</p> + + <p>In the mornin' when the costers come a-shoutin' with + their mokes,</p> + + <p>In the evenin' when the gals walk out a-spoonin' + with their blokes,</p> + + <p>When Mother's slappin' BILLY, or when Father wants + 'is tea,</p> + + <p>When the boys are in the "Spotted Dog" a 'avin' of a + spree,</p> + + <p>No matter what the weather is, or what the time o' + day,</p> + + <p><i>Our</i> music allus visits us, and never goes + away.</p> + + <p>And when they've tooned theirselves to-rights, I + tell yer it's a treat</p> + + <p>Just to listen to the lot of 'em a-playin' in our + street.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>There's a chap as turns the orgin—the best I + ever 'eard—</p> + + <p>Oh lor' he does just jabber, but you can't make out + a word.</p> + + <p>I can't abear Italians, as allus uses knives,</p> + + <p>And talks a furrin lingo all their miserable + lives.</p> + + <p>But this one calls me BELLA—which my Christian + name is SUE—</p> + + <p>And 'e smiles and turns 'is orgin very proper, that + he do.</p> + + <p>Sometimes 'e plays a polker and sometimes it's a + march,</p> + + <p>And I see 'is teeth all shinin' through 'is lovely + black mustarch.</p> + + <p>And the little uns dance round him, you'd laugh + until you cried</p> + + <p>If you saw my little brothers do their 'ornpipes + side by side,</p> + + <p>And the gals they spin about as well, and don't they + move their feet,</p> + + <p>When they 'ear that pianner-orgin man, as plays + about our street.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>There's a feller plays a cornet too, and wears a + ulster coat,</p> + + <p>My eye, 'e does puff out 'is cheeks a-tryin' for 'is + note.</p> + + <p>It seems to go right through yer, and, oh, it's + right-down rare</p> + + <p>When 'e gives us "<i>Annie Laurie</i>" or "<i>Sweet + Spirit, 'ear my Prayer</i>";</p> + + <p>'E's so stout that when 'e's blowin' 'ard you think + 'e must go pop;</p> + + <p>And 'is nose is like the lamp (what's red) outside a + chemist's shop.</p> + + <p>And another blows the penny-pipe,—I allus + thinks it's thin,</p> + + <p>And I much prefers the cornet when 'e ain't bin + drinkin' gin.</p> + + <p>And there's Concertina-JIMMY, it makes yer want to + shout</p> + + <p>When 'e acts just like a windmill and waves 'is arms + about.</p> + + <p>Oh, I'll lay you 'alf a tanner, you'll find it 'ard + to beat</p> + + <p>The good old 'eaps of music that they gives us in + our street.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>And a pore old ragged party, whose shawl is shockin' + torn,</p> + + <p>She sings to suit 'er 'usband while 'e plays on so + forlorn.</p> + + <p>'Er voice is dreadful wheezy, and I can't exactly + say</p> + + <p>I like 'er style of singin' "<i>Tommy Dodd</i>" or + "<i>Nancy Gray</i>."</p> + + <p>But there, she does 'er best, I'm sure; I musn't run + 'er down,</p> + + <p>When she's only tryin' all she can to earn a honest + brown.</p> + + <p>Still, though I'm mad to 'ear 'em play, and + sometimes join the dance,</p> + + <p>I often wish one music gave the other kind a + chance.</p> + + <p>The orgin might have two days, and the cornet take a + third,</p> + + <p>While the pipe-man tried o' Thursdays 'ow to imitate + a bird.</p> + + <p>But they allus comes together, singin' playin' as + they meet</p> + + <p>With their pipes and 'orns and orgins in the middle + of our street.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>But there, I can't stand chatterin', pore mother's + mortal bad,</p> + + <p>And she's got to work the whole day long to keep + things straight for dad.</p> + + <p>Complain? Not she. She scrubs and rubs with all 'er + might and main,</p> + + <p>And the lot's no sooner finished but she's got to + start again.</p> + + <p>There's a patch for JOHNNY's jacket, a darn for + BILLY's socks,</p> + + <p>And an hour or so o' needlework a mendin' POLLY's + frocks;</p> + + <p>With floors to wash, and plates to clean, she'd soon + be skin and bone</p> + + <p>('Er cough's that aggravatin') if she did it all + alone.</p> + + <p>There'll be music while we're workin' to keep us on + the go—</p> + + <p>I like my tunes as fast as fast, pore mother likes + 'em slow—</p> + + <p>Ah! we don't get much to laugh at, nor yet too much + to eat,</p> + + <p>And the music stops us thinkin' when they play it in + the street.</p> + </div> + </div> + <hr /> + + <p>"MARIE, COME UP!"—When Miss MARIE LLOYD, who, + unprofessionally, when at home, is known as Mrs. PERCY + COURTENAY, which her Christian name is MATILDA, recently + appeared at Bow-Street Police Court, having summoned her + husband for an assault, the Magistrate, Mr. LUSHINGTON, ought + to have called on the Complainant to sing "<i>Whacky, Whacky, + Whack!</i>" which would have come in most appropriately. Let us + hope that the pair will make it up, and, as the story-books + say, "live happily ever afterwards."</p> + <hr /> + + <p>NIGHT LIGHTS.—Rumour has it that certain Chorus Ladies + have objected to wearing electric glow-lamps in their hair. Was + it for fear of becoming too light-headed?</p> + <hr /> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page58" + id="page58"></a>[pg 58]</span> + + <div class="figcenter" + style="width:100%;"> + <a href="images/58.png"><img width="100%" + src="images/58.png" + alt="THE POLITICAL WIREPULLER AT WORK." /></a> + + <h3>THE POLITICAL WIREPULLER AT WORK.</h3> + </div> + <hr /> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page59" + id="page59"></a>[pg 59]</span> + + <h2>POLITE LITERATURE.</h2> + + <p>DEAR MR. PUNCH,—Having seen in the pages of one of + your contemporaries several deeply interesting letters telling + of "the Courtesy of the CAVENDISH," I think it will be pleasing + to your readers to learn that I have a fund of anecdote + concerning the politeness—the true politeness—of + many other members of the Peerage. Perhaps you will permit me + to give you a few instances of what I may call aristocratic + amiability.</p> + + <p>On one occasion the Duke of DITCHWATER and a Lady entered + the same omnibus simultaneously. There was but one seat, and + noticing that His Grace was standing, I called attention to the + fact. "Certainly," replied His Grace, with a quiet smile, "but + if I had sat down, the Lady would not have enjoyed her present + satisfactory position!" The Lady herself had taken the until + then vacant place!</p> + + <p>Shortly afterwards I met Viscount VERMILION walking in an + opposite direction to the path I myself was pursuing. "My + Lord," I murmured, removing my hat, "I was quite prepared to + step into the gutter." "It was unnecessary," returned his + Lordship, graciously, "for as the path was wide, there was room + enough for both of us to pass on the same pavement!"</p> + + <p>On a very wet evening I saw My Lord TOMNODDICOMB coming from + a shop in Piccadilly. Noticing that his Lordship had no defence + against the weather, I ventured to offer the Peer my + <i>parapluie</i>.</p> + + <div class="figleft" + style="width:20%;"> + <a href="images/59-1.png"><img width="100%" + src="images/59-1.png" + alt="" /></a> + </div> + + <p>"Please let me get into my carriage," observed his Lordship. + Then discovering, from my bowing attitude, that I meant no + insolence by my suggestion, he added,—"And as for your + umbrella—surely on this rainy night you can make use of + it yourself?"</p> + + <p>Yet again. The Marchioness of LOAMSHIRE was on the point of + crossing a puddle.</p> + + <p>Naturally I divested myself of my greatcoat, and threw it as + a bridge across her Ladyship's dirty walk.</p> + + <p>The Marchioness smiled, but her Ladyship has never forgotten + the circumstance, and I have the coat still by me.</p> + + <p>And yet some people declare that the wives of Members of the + House of Lords are wanting in consideration!</p> + + <p>Believe me, dear <i>Mr. Punch</i>,</p> + + <p class="author">Yours enthusiastically, S. NOB.</p> + + <p><i>The Cringeries, Low Booington</i>.</p> + <hr /> + + <p>NOTICE—No. XXV. of "Travelling Companions" next + week.</p> + <hr /> + + <div class="figcenter" + style="width:66%;"> + <a href="images/59-2.png"><img width="100%" + src="images/59-2.png" + alt="FANCY PORTRAIT." /></a> + + <h3>FANCY PORTRAIT.</h3>SEÑOR DRUMMONDO WOLFFEZ, + REPRESENTING THE JOHN BULLFIGHTER AT MADRID.<br /> + <i>"TORÉADOR CONTENTO!"</i> + </div> + <hr /> + + <h2>THE JUDGES IN COUNCIL.</h2> + + <blockquote class="note"> + <p>["All the judicial wisdom of the Supreme Court has met + in solemn and secret conclave, heralded by letters from the + heads of the Bench, admitting serious evils in the working + of the High Court of Justice; a full working day was + appropriated for the occasion; the learned Judges met at 11 + A.M. (nominally) and rose promptly for luncheon, and for + the day, at 1·30 P.M. Two-and-a-half hours' work, during + which each of the twenty-eight judicial personages no doubt + devoted all his faculties and experience to the discovery, + discussion, and removal of the admittedly numerous defects + in the working of the Judicature Acts! Two-and-a-half + hours, which might have been stolen from the relaxations of + a Saturday afternoon! Two-and-a-half hours, for which the + taxpayers of the United Kingdom pay some eight hundred + guineas! Truly the spectacle is eminently calculated to + inspire the country with confidence and hopes of + reform."—<i>Extract from Letter to the + Times.</i>]</p> + </blockquote> + + <blockquote> + <p>SCENE—<i>A Room at the Royal Courts</i>. Lord + CHANCELLOR, Lord CHIEF JUSTICE, MASTER of the ROLLS, Lords + Justices, Justices.</p> + </blockquote> + + <p><i>L.C.</i> Well, I'm very glad to see you all looking so + well, but can anyone tell me why we've met at all?</p> + + <p><i>L.C.J.</i> Talking of meetings, do you remember that + Exeter story dear old JACK TOMPKINS used to tell on the Western + Circuit?</p> + + <div class="figright" + style="width:19%;"> + <a href="images/59-3.png"><img width="100%" + src="images/59-3.png" + alt="Fee-simple." /></a>Fee-simple. + </div> + + <blockquote> + <p>[<i>Proceeds to tell</i> JACK TOMPKINS's <i>story at + great length to great interest of</i> Chancery Judges.</p> + </blockquote> + + <p><i>M.R.</i> (<i>who has listened with marked + impatience</i>). Why, my dear fellow, it isn't a Western + Circuit story at all. It was on the Northern Circuit at + Appleby.</p> + + <blockquote> + <p>[<i>Proceeds to tell the same story all over again, + substituting Appleby for Exeter. At the conclusion of + story, Great laughter from</i> Chancery Judges. Common Law + Judges <i>look bored, having all told same story on and + about their own Circuits.</i></p> + </blockquote> + + <p><i>L.C.</i> Very good—very good—used to tell it + myself on the South Wales Circuit—but what have we met + for?</p> + + <p><i>Lord Justice A.</i> I say, what do you think about this + cross-examination fuss? It seems to me—</p> + + <p><i>L.C.J.</i> Talking of cross-examination—do you + fellows remember the excellent story dear old JOHNNIE BROWBEAT + used to tell about the Launceston election petition?</p> + + <blockquote> + <p>[<i>Proceeds to tell story in much detail</i>. L.C. + <i>looks uncomfortable at its conclusion</i>.</p> + </blockquote><span class="pagenum"><a name="page60" + id="page60"></a>[pg 60]</span> + + <p><i>M.R.</i> (<i>cutting in</i>). Why, my dear fellow, it + wasn't Launceston at all, it was Lancaster, and—</p> + + <blockquote> + <p>[<i>Tells story all over again to the</i> Chancery + Judges.</p> + </blockquote> + + <p><i>L.C.</i> Yes—excellent. I thought it took place at + Chester—but really, now, we must get to business. So, + first of all, will anyone kindly tell me what the business + is?</p> + + <p><i>Mr. Justice A.</i> (<i>a very young Judge</i>). Well, the + fact is, I believe the Public—</p> + + <p><i>Chorus of Judges</i>. The what?</p> + + <p><i>Mr. Justice A.</i> (<i>with hesitation</i>). Why—I + was going to say there seems to be a sort of discontent amongst + the Public—</p> + + <p><i>L.C.</i> (<i>with dignity</i>). Really, really—what + have we to do with the Public? But in case there should be any + truth in this extraordinary statement, I think we might as well + appoint a Committee to look into it, and then we can meet again + some day and hear what it is all about.</p> + + <p><i>L.C.J.</i> Yes, a Committee by all means; the smaller the + better. "Too many cooks," as dear old HORACE puts it.</p> + + <p><i>M.R.</i> Talking of cooks, isn't it about lunch time?</p> + + <blockquote> + <p>[<i>General consensus of opinion in favour of lunching. + As they adjourn</i>, L.C.J. <i>detains</i> Chancery Judges + <i>to tell them a story about something that happened at + Bodmin, and, to prevent mistakes, tells it in West Country + dialect</i>. M.R. <i>immediately repeats it in strong + Yorkshire, and lays the venue at Bradford. Result; that the + whole of</i> HER MAJESTY's <i>Courts in London were closed + for one day.</i></p> + </blockquote> + <hr /> + + <h2>THE LAY OF THE LITIGANT.</h2> + + <h4>(<i>After Hood. Also after Coleridge's (C.J.) Letter to the + Lord Chancellor on the decay of Legal Business.</i>)</h4> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>I remember, I remember</p> + + <p class="i2">The Law when I was born,</p> + + <p>The Serjeants, brothers of the coif,</p> + + <p class="i2">The Judges dead and gone.</p> + + <p>The Judicature Acts to them</p> + + <p class="i2">Were utterly unknown;</p> + + <p>It was a fearful ignorance—</p> + + <p class="i2">Oh, would it were my own!</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>I remember, I remember</p> + + <p class="i2">The worthy "Proctor" race,</p> + + <p>The "Posteas," and the "Elegits,"</p> + + <p class="i2">The "Actions on the Case."</p> + + <p>The "Error" each Attorney's Clerk</p> + + <p class="i2">Did wilfully abet,</p> + + <p>The days of "Bills" in Equity—</p> + + <p class="i2"><i>Some</i> bills are living yet!</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>I remember, I remember</p> + + <p class="i2">The years of "<i>Jarndyce</i>" jaw,</p> + + <p>The lively game of shuttlecock</p> + + <p class="i2">'Twixt Equity and Law.</p> + + <p>Tribunals then were "Courts" indeed</p> + + <p class="i2">That are "Divisions" now,</p> + + <p>And Silken Gowns have feared the frowns</p> + + <p class="i2">Upon a "Baron's" brow.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>We remember, we remember</p> + + <p class="i2">The flourishing of trumps,</p> + + <p>When Parliament took up our wrongs,</p> + + <p class="i2">And manned the legal pumps.</p> + + <p>Those noble Acts (they said) would end</p> + + <p class="i2">Obstructions and delay,</p> + + <p>And ne'er again would litigants</p> + + <p class="i2">The piper have to pay.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>I remember, I remember</p> + + <p class="i2">Expenses, mountains high;</p> + + <p>I used to think, when duly "taxed,"</p> + + <p class="i2">They'd vanish by-and-by.</p> + + <p>It was a foolish confidence,</p> + + <p class="i2">But now 'tis little joy</p> + + <p>To know that Law's as slow and dear</p> + + <p class="i2">As when I was a boy!</p> + </div> + </div> + <hr /> + + <h2>THE HERO OF THE SUMMER SALE.</h2> + + <h4>(<i>By our own Private and Confidential Poetess</i>.)</h4> + + <div class="figright" + style="width:35%;"> + <a href="images/60-1.png"><img width="100%" + src="images/60-1.png" + alt="" /></a> + </div> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>I would I loved some belted Earl,</p> + + <p class="i2">Some Baronet, or K.C.B.,</p> + + <p>But I'm a most unhappy girl,</p> + + <p class="i2">And no such luck's in store for me!</p> + + <p>I would I loved some Soldier bold,</p> + + <p class="i2">Who leads his troops where cannons + pop,</p> + + <p>But if the bitter truth be told—</p> + + <p class="i2">I love a man who walks a shop!</p> + + <p class="i4">For oh! a King of Men is he—</p> + + <p class="i6">With princely strut and stiffened + spine—</p> + + <p class="i4">So his, and his alone, shall be,</p> + + <p class="i6">This fondly foolish heart of mine!</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>On Remnant Days—from morn till night,</p> + + <p class="i2">When blows fall fast, and words run + high,</p> + + <p>When frenzied females fiercely fight</p> + + <p class="i2">For bargains that they long to + buy—</p> + + <p>From hot attack he does not flinch,</p> + + <p class="i2">But stands his ground with visage + pale,</p> + + <p>And all the time looks every inch</p> + + <p class="i2">The Hero of that Summer Sale!</p> + + <p class="i4">For oh! a King of Men is he—</p> + + <p class="i6">Whom shop-assistants call to "Sign!"</p> + + <p class="i4">So his, and his alone, shall be</p> + + <p class="i6">This fondly foolish heart of mine!</p> + </div> + </div> + <hr /> + + <p>MONDAY, <i>Jan.</i> 18, 1892. "Bath and West of England's + Society's Cheese School at Frome." Of this School, the + <i>Times</i>, judging by results, speaks highly of "the + practical character of the instruction given at the School." + This is a bad look-out for Eton and Harrow, not to say for + Winchester and Westminster also. All parents who wish their + children to be "quite the cheese" in Society generally, and + particularly for Bath and the West of England, where, of + course, Society is remarkably exclusive, cannot do better, it + is evident, than send them to the Bath and West of England + Cheese School.</p> + <hr /> + + <p>ON THE TRAILL.—It is suggested that in future M.P. + should stand for Minor Poet. Would this satisfy Mr. LEWIS + MORRIS? Or would he insist on being gazetted as a Major?</p> + <hr /> + + <h2>OUR BOOKING-OFFICE.</h2> + + <div class="figright" + style="width:22%;"> + <a href="images/60-2.png"><img width="100%" + src="images/60-2.png" + alt="The following Page." /></a>The following Page. + </div> + + <p>One of the Baron's Deputy-Readers has been looking through + Mr. G.W. HENLEY's <i>Lyra Heroica; a Book of Verse for + Boys</i>. DAVID NUTT, London.) This is his + appreciation:—Mr. HENLEY has tacked his name to a + collection which contains some noble poems, some (but not much) + trash, and a good many pieces, which, however poetical they may + be, are certainly not heroic, seeing that they do not express + "the simpler sentiments, and the more elemental emotions" (I + use Mr. HENLEY's prefatory words), and are scarcely the sort of + verse that boys are likely, or ought to care about. To be sure, + Mr. HENLEY guards himself on the score of his "personal + equation"—I trust his boys understand what he means. My + own personal equation makes me doubt whether Mr. HENLEY has + done well in including such pieces as, for instance, HERBERT's + "<i>Memento Mori</i>," CURRAN's "<i>The Deserter</i>," + SWINBURNE's "<i>The Oblation</i>," and ALFRED AUSTIN's "<i>Is + Life Worth Living</i>?" If Mr. HENLEY, or anybody else who + happens to possess a personal equation, will point out to me + the heroic quality in these poems, I shall feel deeply + grateful. And how, in the name of all that is or ever was + heroic, has "<i>Auld Lang Syne</i>" crept into this collection + of heroic verse? As for Mr. ALFRED AUSTIN, I cannot think by + what right he secures a place in such a compilation. I have + rarely read a piece of his which did not contain at least one + glaring infelicity. In "<i>Is Life Worth Living</i>?" he tells + us of "blithe herds," which (in compliance with the obvious + necessities of rhyme, but for no other reason)</p> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>"Wend homeward with unweary feet,</p> + + <p>Carolling like the birds."</p> + </div> + </div> + + <p>Further on we find that</p> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>"England's trident-sceptre roams</p> + + <p>Her territorial seas,"</p> + </div> + </div> + + <p>merely because the unfortunate sceptre has to rhyme somehow + to "English homes."</p> + + <p>But I have a further complaint against Mr. HENLEY. He + presumes, in the most fantastic manner, to alter the well-known + titles of celebrated poems. "<i>The Isles of Greece</i>" is + made to masquerade as "The Glory that was Greece"; "<i>Auld + Lang Syne</i>" becomes "The Goal of Life," and "<i>Tom + Bowline</i>" is converted into "The Perfect Sailor." This + surely (again I use the words of Mr. HENLEY) "is a thing + preposterous, and distraught." On the whole, I cannot think + that Mr. HENLEY has done his part well. His manner is bad. His + selection, it seems to me, is open to grave censure, on broader + grounds than the mere personally equational of which he speaks, + and his choppings, and sub-titles, and so forth, are not + commendable. The irony of literary history has apparently + ordained that Mr. HENLEY should first patronise, and then + "cut," both CAMPBELL and MACAULAY. Was the shade of MACAULAY + disturbed when he learnt that Mr. HENLEY considered his + "<i>Battle of Naseby</i>" both "vicious and ugly"?</p> + + <p class="author">BARON DE BOOK-WORMS & CO.</p> + <hr /> + + <p>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.</p> + <hr class="full" /> + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Punch, Or The London Charivari, Volume +102, January 30, 1892, by Various + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PUNCH *** + +***** This file should be named 14272-h.htm or 14272-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/1/4/2/7/14272/ + +Produced by Malcolm Farmer, William Flis, and the PG 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, Or The London Charivari, Volume 102, January 30, 1892 + +Author: Various + +Release Date: December 6, 2004 [EBook #14272] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PUNCH *** + + + + +Produced by Malcolm Farmer, William Flis, and the PG Online +Distributed Proofreading Team + + + + + +PUNCH, + +OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. + +VOL. 102. + + + +January 30, 1892. + + + + +CONFESSIONS OF A DUFFER. + +III.--THE LITERARY DUFFER. + +[Illustration: "I have worn a cloak and a Tyrolese hat, and +attitudinised in the Picture-galleries."] + +Why I am not a success in literature it is difficult for me to tell; +indeed, I would give a good deal to anyone who would explain the +reason. The Publishers, and Editors, and Literary Men decline to tell +me _why_ they do not want my contributions. I am sure I have done +all that I can to succeed. When my Novel, _Geoffrey's Cousin_, comes +back from the Row, I do not lose heart--I pack it up, and send it off +again to the Square, and so, I may say, it goes the round. The very +manuscript attests the trouble I have taken. Parts of it are written +in my own hand, more in that of my housemaid, to whom I have dictated +passages; a good deal is in the hand of my wife. There are sentences +which I have written a dozen times, on the margins, with lines leading +up to them in red ink. The story is written on paper of all sorts and +sizes, and bits of paper are pasted on, here and there, containing +revised versions of incidents and dialogue. The whole packet is now +far from clean, and has a business-like and travelled air about it, +which should command respect. I always accompany it with a polite +letter, expressing my willingness to cut it down, or expand it, or +change the conclusion. Nobody can say that I am proud. But it always +comes back from the Publishers and Editors, without any explanation +as to why it will not do. This is what I resent as particularly hard. +The Publishers decline to tell me what their Readers have really said +about it. I have forwarded _Geoffrey's Cousin_ to at least five or six +notorious authors, with a letter, which runs thus:-- + + "DEAR SIR,--You will be surprised at receiving a letter from + a total stranger, but your well-known goodness of heart must + plead my excuse. I am aware that your time is much occupied, + but I am certain that you will spare enough of that valuable + commodity to glance through the accompanying MS. Novel, and + give me your frank opinion of it. Does it stand in need of + any alterations, and, if so, what? Would you mind having it + published _under your own name_, receiving one-third of the + profits? A speedy answer will greatly oblige." + +Would you believe it, _Mr. Punch_, not one of these over-rated and +overpaid men has ever given me any advice at all? Most of them +simply send back my parcel with no reply. One, however, wrote to say +that he received at least six such packets every week, and that his +engagements made it impossible for him to act as a guide, counsellor, +and friend to the amateurs of all England. He added that, if I +published the Novel at my own expense, the remarks of the public +critics would doubtless prove most valuable and salutary. + +This decided me; I _did_ publish, at my own expense, with Messrs. +SAUL, SAMUEL, MOSS & CO. I had to pay down L150, then L35 for +advertisements, then L70 for Publisher's Commission. Other expenses +fell grievously on me, as I sent round printed postcards to everyone +whose name is in the Red Book, asking them to ask for _Geoffrey's +Cousin_ at the Libraries. I also despatched six copies, with six +anonymous letters, to Mr. GLADSTONE, signing them, "A Literary +Constituent," "A Wavering Anabaptist," and so forth, but, +extraordinary to relate, I have received no answer, and no notice has +been taken of my disinterested presents. The reviews were of the most +meagre and scornful description. Messrs. SAUL, SAMUEL, Moss & Co. have +just written to me, begging me to remove the "remainder" of my book, +and charging L23 15s. 6d. for warehouse expenses. Yet, when I read +_Geoffrey's Cousin_, I fail to see that it falls, in any way, beneath +the general run of novels. I enclose a marked copy, and solicit your +earnest attention for the passage in which _Geoffrey's Cousin_ blights +his hopes for ever. The story, Sir, is one of controversy, and is +suited to this time. _Geoffrey McPhun_ is an Auld Licht (see Mr. +BARRIE's books, _passim_). His cousin is an Esoteric Buddhist. They +love each other dearly, but _Geoffrey_, a rigid character, cannot +marry any lady who does not burn, as an Auld Licht, "with a hard +gem-like flame." _Violet Blair_, his cousin, is just as staunch an +Esoteric Buddhist. Nothing stands between them but the differences of +their creed. + +"How can I contemplate, GEOFFREY," said VIOLET, with a rich blush, +"the possibility of seeing our little ones stray from the fold of the +Lama of Thibet into a chapel of the Original Secession Church?" + +They determine to try to convert each other. _Geoffrey_ lends _Violet_ +all his theological library, including WODROW's _Analecta_. She +lends him the learned works of Mr. SINNETT and Madame BLAVATSKY. They +retire, he to the Himalayas, she to Thrums, and their letters compose +Volume II. (Local colour _a la_ KIPLING and BARRIE.) On the slopes of +the Himalayas you see _Geoffrey_ converted; he becomes a Cheela, and +returns by overland route. He rushes to Ramsgate, and announces his +complete acceptance of the truth as it is in Mahatmaism. Alas! alas! +_Violet_ has been over-persuaded by the seductions of Presbyterianism, +she has hurried down from Thrums, rejoicing, a full-blown Auld Licht. +And, in her _Geoffrey_, she finds a convinced Esoteric Buddhist! They +are no better off than they were, their union is impossible, and Vol. +III. ends in their poignant anguish. + +Now, _Mr. Punch_, is not this the very novel for the times; rich in +adventure (in Kafiristan), teeming with philosophical suggestiveness, +and sparkling with all the epigrams of my commonplace book. Yet I am +about L300 out of pocket, and, moreover, a blighted being. + +I have taken every kind of pains; I have asked London Correspondents +to dinner; I have written flattering letters to everybody; I have +attempted to get up a deputation of Beloochis to myself; I have tried +to make people interview me; I have puffed myself in all the modes +which study and research can suggest. If anybody has, I have been "up +to date." But Fortune is my foe, and I see others flourish by the very +arts which fail in my hands. + +I mention my Novel because its failure really is a mystery. But I +am not at all more fortunate in the reception of my poetry. I have +tried it every way--ballades by the bale, sonnets by the dozen, loyal +odes, seditious songs, drawing-room poetry, an Epic on the history of +Labducuo, erotic verse, all fire, foam, and fangs, reflective ditto, +humble natural ballads about signal-men and newspaper-boys, Life-boat +rescues, Idyls, Nocturnes in rhyme, tragedies in blank verse. Nobody +will print them, or, if anybody prints them, he regrets that he +cannot pay for them. My moral and discursive essays are rejected, my +descriptions of nature do not even get into the newspapers. I have +not been elected by the Sydenham Club (a clique of humbugs); I have +let my hair grow long; I have worn a cloak and a Tyrolese hat, and +attitudinised in the picture-galleries, but nobody asked who I am. I +have endeavoured to hang on to well-known poets and novelists--they +have not welcomed my advances. + +My last dodge was a Satire, the _Logrolliad_, in which I lashed the +charlatans and pretenders of the day. + + While hoary statesmen scribble in reviews + And guide the doubtful verdict of the Blues, + While HAGGARD scrawls, with blood in lieu of ink, + While MALLOCK teaches Marquises to think, + +so long I have rhythmically expressed my design to wield the dripping +scourge of satire. But nobody seems a penny the worse, and I am not a +paragraph the better. Short stories of a startling description fill my +drawers, nobody will venture on one of them. I have closely imitated +every writer who succeeds, but my little barque may attendant sail, it +pursues the triumph, but does not partake the gale. + +I am now engaged on a Libretto for an heroic opera. + +What offers? + + * * * * * + +[Illustration: THE IMPERIAL JACK-IN-THE-BOX. + +_Chorus_ (_Everybody_). "EVERYTHING IN ORDER EVERYWHERE! O! WHAT A +SURPRISE! SOLD AGAIN!"] + + * * * * * + +THE IMPERIAL JACK-IN-THE-BOX. + +A SONG FOR THE SHOUTING EMPEROR. + +AIR--"_THE MAJOR-GENERAL._" + + I am the very pattern of a Modern German Emperor, + Omniscient and omnipotent, I ne'er give way to temper, or + If now and then I run a-muck in a Malay-like fashion, + As there's method in my madness, so there's purpose in my passion. + 'Tis my aim to manage _everything_ in order categorical-- + My fame as Cosmos-maker I intend shall be historical. + I know they call me _Paul Pry_, say I'm fussy and pragmatical-- + But that's because sheer moonshine always hates the mathematical. + I'm not content to "play the King" with an imperial pose in it-- + Whatever is marked "Private" I shall up and poke my nose in it. + +ALL. + + _He_ won't let drowsing dogs lie, he'll stir up the tabby sleeping Tom-- + In fact, he is the model of a modern German Peeping Tom! + + I bounce into the Ball-Room when they think I'm fast asleep at home, + And measure steps and skirts and things and mark what state folks keep + at home; + Watch the toilette of young Beauty on the very strictest Q.T. too, + Evangelise the Army and keep sentries to their duty, too, + On the Navy, and the Clergy, and the Schools, my wise eyes shoot lights, + Sir. + I'm awfully particular to regulate the footlights, Sir. + I preach sermons to my soldiers and arrange their "duds" and duels, too, + And tallow their poor noses, when they've colds, and mix their gruels, + too; + I'll make everybody moral, and obedient, and frugal, Sir-- + In fact I'm an Imperial edition of MCDOUGALL, Sir! + +ALL. + + He'd compel us to drink water and restrain us when to wed agog; + In fact he is the model of a Modern German pedagogue. + + I've all the god-like attributes, omniscient, ubiquitous, + I mean to squelch free impulse, which is commonly iniquitous. + But what's the good of being Chief Inspector of the Universe, + And prying into everything from pompous Law to puny verse, + If everything or nearly so, shows a confounded tendency + _To go right of its own accord_? My Masterful Resplendency + Would radiate aurorally, a world would gaze on trustingly + If only things in general wouldn't go on so disgustingly. + Where _is_ the pull of being Earth's Inspector autocratical, + When the Progress _I_'d be motor of seems mainly automatical? + +ALL. + + Hooray! My would-be Jupiter, a _parvenu_ is told again + He's not the true Olympian, Jack-in-the-Box is "Sold Again!!!" + + * * * * * + +"ARTIFICIAL OYSTER-CULTIVATION," read Mrs. R., as the heading of a par +in the _Times_. "Good gracious!" she exclaimed, "who on earth would +ever think of eating 'artificial oysters!'" + + * * * * * + +NOTHING is certain in this life except Death, Quarter Day and stoppage +for ten minutes at Swindon Station. + + * * * * * + +[Illustration: SO CONVENIENT! + +_Young Wife_. "WHERE ARE YOU GOING, REGGIE DEAR?" + +_Reggie Dear_. "ONLY TO THE CLUB, MY DARLING." + +_Young Wife_. "OH, I DON'T MIND THAT, BECAUSE THERE'S A TELEPHONE +THERE, AND I CAN TALK TO YOU THROUGH IT, CAN'T I?" + +_Reggie_. "Y-YES--BUT--ER--YOU KNOW, THE CONFOUNDED WIRES ARE ALWAYS +GETTING OUT OF ORDER!"] + + * * * * * + +PARLIAMENT A LA MODE DE PARIS. + + SCENE--_The Chamber during a Debate of an exciting character. + Member with a newspaper occupying the Tribune._ + +_Member_. I ask if the report in this paper is true? It calls the +Minister a scoundrel! [_Frantic applause._ + +_President_. I must interpose. It is not right that such a document +should be read. + +_Member_. But it is true. I hold in my hand this truth-telling sheet. +(_Shouts of_ "_Well done_!") This admirable journal describes +the Minister as a trickster, a man without a heart! [_Yells of +approbation._ + +_President_. I warn the Member that he is going too far. He is +outraging the public conscience. ["_Hear! hear_!" + +_Member_. It is you that outrage the public conscience. [_Sensation._ + +_President_. This is too much! If I hear another word of insult, I +will assume my hat. + + [_Profound and long-continued agitation._ + +_Member_. A hat is better than a turned coat! (_Thunders of +applause._) I say that this paper is full of wholesome things, and +that when it denounces the Minister as a good-for-nothing, as a +slanderer, as a thief--it does but its duty. + + [_Descends from the Tribune amidst tumultuous applause, and is + met by the Minister. Grand altercation, with results._ + +_Minister's Friends_. What have you done to him? + +_Minister_ (_with dignity_). I have avenged my honour--I have hit him +in the eye! + + [_Scene closes in upon the Minister receiving hearty + congratulations from all sides of the Chamber._ + + * * * * * + +PRESERVED VENICE. + +(_SPECIALLY IMPORTED FOR THE LONDON MARKET._) + +A SATURDAY NIGHT SCENE AT OLYMPIA. + +IN THE PROMENADE. + +_A Pessimistic Matron_ (_the usual beady and bugle-y female, who +takes all her pleasure as a penance_). Well, they may _call_ it +"Venice," but _I_ don't see no difference from what it was when +the Barnum Show was 'ere--except--(_regretfully_)--that then they +'ad the Freaks o' Nature, and Jumbo's skelinton! + +[Illustration: "I'm sure I'm 'ighly flattered, Mum, but I'm already +suited."] + +_Her Husband_ (_an Optimist--less from conviction than +contradiction_). There you go, MARIA, finding fault the minute you've +put your nose inside! We ain't _in_ Venice yet. It's up at the top o' +them steps. + +_The P.M._ Up all them stairs? Well, I 'ope it'll be worth seeing when +we _do_ get there, that's all! + +_An Attendant_ (_as she arrives at the top_). Not this door, +Ma'am--next entrance for Modern Venice. + +_The Opt. Husb._ You needn't go all the way down again, when the steps +join like that! + +_The P.M._ I'm not going to walk sideways--_I_'m not a crab, JOE, +whatever _you_ may think. (_JOE assents, with reservations_). Now +wherever have those other two got to? 'urrying off that way! Oh, +_there_ they are. 'Ere, LIZZIE and JEM, keep along o' me and Father, +do, or we shan't see half of what's to be seen! + +_Lizzie_. Oh, all right, Ma; don't you worry so! (_To JEM, her +fiance_.) Don't those tall fellows look smart with the red feathers in +their cocked 'ats? What do they call _them_? + +_Jem_ (_a young man, who thinks for himself_). Well, I shouldn't +wonder if those were the parties they call "Doges"--sort o' police +over there, d'ye see? + +_Lizzie_. They're 'andsomer than 'elmets, I will say _that_ for them. +(_They enter Modern Venice, amidst cries of "This way for Gondoala +Tickets! Pass along, please! Keep to your right!"_ &c., &c.) It _does_ +have a foreign look, with all those queer names written up. Think it's +like what it is, JEM? + +_Jem_. Bound to be, with all the money they've spent on it. I daresay +they've idle-ised it a bit, though. + +_The P.M._ Where are all these kinals they talk so much about? I don't +see none! + +_Jem_ (_as a break in the crowd reveals a narrow olive-green +channel_). Why, what d'ye call _that_, Ma? + +_The P.M._ That a kinal! Why, you don't mean to tell me any barge +'ud-- + +_The Opt. Husb._ Go on!--you didn't suppose you'd find the Paddington +Canal in _these_ parts, did you? This is big enough for all +_they_ want. (_A gondola goes by lurchily, crowded with pot-hatted +passengers, smoking pipes, and wearing the uncomfortable smile of +children enjoying their first elephant-ride._) That's one o' these +'ere gondoalers--it's a rum-looking concern, ain't it? But I suppose +you get _used_ to 'em--(_philosophically_)--like everything else! + +_The P.M._ It gives me the creeps to look at 'em. Talk about +_'earses_! + +_The Opt. Husb._ Well, look 'ere, we've come out to enjoy +ourselves--what d'ye say to having a ride in one, eh? + +_The P.M._ You won't ketch me trusting _my_self in one o' them tituppy +things, so don't you deceive yourself! + +_The Opt. Husb._ Oh, it's on'y two foot o' warm water if you do +tip over. _Come_ on! (_Hailing Gondolier, who has just landed his +cargo._) 'Ere, 'ow much'll you take the lot of us for, hey? + +_Gondolier_ (_gesticulating_). Teekits! you tek teekits--la--you vait! + +_Jem_. He means we've got to go to the orfice and take tickets and +stand in a cue, d'yer see? + +_The P.M._ Me go and form a cue down there and get squeeged like at +the Adelphi Pit, all to set in a rickety gondoaler! I can see all _I_ +want to see without messing about in one o' them things! + +_The Others_. Well, I dunno as it's worth the extry sixpence, come to +think of it. (_They pass on, contentedly._) + +_Jem_. We're on the Rialto Bridge now, LIZZIE, d'ye see? The one in +SHAKSPEARE, _you_ know. + +_Lizzie_. That's the one they call the "Bridge o' Sighs," ain't it? +(_Hazily._) Is that because there's _shops_ on it? + +_Jem_. I dessay. Shops--or else suicides. + +_Lizzie_ (_more hazily than ever_). Ah, the same as the Monument. +(_They walk on with a sense of mental enlargement._) + +_Mrs. Lavender Salt_. It's wonderfully like the real thing, LAVENDER, +isn't it? Of course they can't _quite_ get the true Venetian +atmosphere! + +_Mr. L.S._ Well, MIMOSA, they'd have the Sanitary Authorities down on +them if they _did_, you know! + +_Mrs. L.S._ Oh, you're so horribly unromantic! But, LAVENDER, couldn't +we get one of those gondolas and go about. It would be so lovely to be +in one again, and fancy ourselves back in dear Venice, now _wouldn't_ +it? + +_Mr. L.S._ The illusion is cheap at sixpence; so come along, MIMOSA! + + [_He secures, tickets, and presently the LAVENDER SALTS, + find themselves part of a long queue, being marshalled + between barriers by Italian gendarmes in a state of politely + suppressed amusement._ + +_Mrs. L.S._ (_over her shoulder to her husband, as she imagines_). I'd +no idea we should have to go through all this! Must we really herd +in with all these people? Can't we two manage to get a gondola all to +ourselves? + +_A Voice_ (_not LAVENDER's--in her ear_). I'm sure I'm 'ighly +flattered, Mum, but I'm already suited; yn't I, DYSY? + + [_DYSY corroborates his statement with unnecessary emphasis._ + +_A Sturdy Democrat_ (_in front, over his shoulder_). Pity yer didn't +send word you was coming, Mum, and then they'd ha' kep' the place +clear of us common people for yer! [Mrs. L.S. _is sorry she spoke._ + + IN THE GONDOLA.--_Mr. and Mrs. L.S. are seated in the back + seat, supported on one side by the Humorous 'ARRY and his + Fiancee, and on the other by a pale, bloated youth, with a + particularly rank cigar, and the Sturdy Democrat, whose two + small boys occupy the seat in front._ + +_The St. Dem._ (_with malice aforethought_). If you two lads ain't +got room there, I dessay this lady won't mind takin' one of yer on her +lap. (_To Mrs. L.S., who is frozen with horror at the suggestion._) +They're 'umin beans, Mum, like yerself! + +_Mrs. L.S._ (_desperately ignoring her other neighbours_). Isn't that +lovely balcony there copied from the one at the Pisani, LAVENDER--or +is it the Contarini? I forget. + +_Mr. L.S._ Don't remember--got the Rialto rather well, haven't they? +I suppose that's intended for the dome of the Salute down there--not +quite the outline, though, if I remember right. And, if that's the +Campanile of St. Mark, the colour's too brown, eh? + +_The Hum. 'Arry_ (_with intention_). Oh, I sy, DYSY, yn't that the +Kempynoily of Kennington Oval, right oppersite? and 'aven't they got +the Grand Kinel in the Ole Kent Road proper, eh? + +_Dysy_ (_playing up to him, with enjoyment_). Jest 'aven't they! +On'y I don't quoite remember whether the colour o' them gas-lamps is +correct. But there, if we go on torkin' this w'y, other parties might +think we wanted to show orf! + +_Mrs. L.S._ Do you remember our _last_ gondola expedition, LAVENDER, +coming home from the Giudecca in that splendid sunset? + +_The Hum. A._ Recklect you and me roidin' 'ome from Walworth on a +rhinebow, DYSY, eh? + +_Chorus of Chaff from the bridges and terraces as they pass._ 'Ullo, +'ere comes another boat-load! 'Igher up, there!... Four-wheeler!... +Ain't that toff in the tall 'at enjoyin' himself? Quite a 'appy +funeral! &c., &c. + +_Mrs. L.S._ (_faintly, as they enter the Canal in front of the +Stage_). LAVENDER, dear, I really can't stand this _much_ longer! + +_Mr. L.S._ (_to the Bloated Youth_). Might I ask you, Sir, not to puff +your smoke in this lady's face--it's extremely unpleasant for her! + +_The B.Y._ All right, Mister, I'm always ready to oblige a +lydy--but--(_with wounded pride_)--as to its bein' _unpleasant_, yer +know, all _I_ can tell yer is--(_with sarcasm_)--that this 'appens to +be one of the best tuppeny smokes in 'Ammersmith! + +_Mr. L.S._ (_diplomatically_). I am sure of that--from the aroma, but +if you _could_ kindly postpone its enjoyment for a little while, we +should be extremely obliged! + +_The B.Y._ Well, I must keep it _aloive_, yer know. If there's anyone +'ere that understands cigars, they'll bear me out as it never smokes +the same when you once let it out. + + [_The other Passengers confirm him in this epicurean dictum, + whereupon he sucks the cigar at intervals behind Mrs. L.S.'s + back, during the remainder of the trip._ + +_Mr. L.S._ (_to Mrs. L.S. when they are alone again_). Well, MIMOSA, +illusion successful, eh? + +_Mrs. L.S._ Oh, _don't_! + + * * * * * + +[Illustration: ABOMINATIONS OF MODERN SCIENCE. + +MARIANA ARRIVES AT THE MOATED GRANGE (AFTER A LONG, DAMP JOURNEY) JUST +IN TIME TO DRESS FOR DINNER, AND FINDS, TO HER SORROW, THAT HER ROOM +IS WARMED BY HOT WATER PIPES AND LIGHTED BY ELECTRICITY.] + + * * * * * + +TO MY CIGARETTE. + +[Illustration] + + My own, my loved, my Cigarette, + My dainty joy disguised in tissue, + What fate can make your slave regret + The day when first he dared to kiss you? + + I had smoked briars, like to most + Who joy in smoking, and had been a + Too ready prey to those who boast + Their bonded stores of Reina Fina. + + In honeydew had steeped my soul + Had been of cherry pipes a cracker, + And watched the creamy meerschaum's bowl + Grow weekly, daily, hourly blacker. + + Read CALVERLEY and learnt by heart + The lines he celebrates the weed in; + And blew my smoke in rings, an art + That many try, but few succeed in. + + In fact of nearly every style + Of smoke I was a kindly critic, + Though I had found Manillas vile, + And Trichinopolis mephitic. + + The stout tobacco-jar became + Within my smoking-room a fixture; + I heard my friends extol by name + Each one his own peculiar mixture. + + And tried them every one in turn + (_O varium, tobacco, semper_!); + The strong I found too apt to burn + My tongue, the week to try my temper. + + And all were failures, and I grew + More tentative and undecided, + Consulted friends, and found they knew + As little as or less than I did. + + Havannah yielded up her pick + Of prime cigars to my fruition; + I bought a case, and some went "sick." + The rest were never in condition. + + Until in sheer fatigue I turned + To you, tobacco's white-robed tyro, + And from your golden legend learned + Your maker dwelt and wrought in Cairo. + + O worshipped wheresoe'er I roam, + As fondly as a wife by some is, + Waif from the far Egyptian home + Of Pharaohs, crocodiles, and mummies; + + Beloved, in spite of jeer and frown; + The more the Philistines assail you, + The more the doctors run you down, + The more I puff you--and inhale you. + + Though worn with toil and vexed with strife + (Ye smokers all, attend and hear me), + Undaunted still I live my life, + With you, my Cigarette, to cheer me. + + * * * * * + +[Illustration: SOMETHING WRONG SOMEWHERE. + +"HOW CHARMING YOU LOOK, DEAR MRS. BELLAMY--AS USUAL! _WOULD_ YOU MIND +TELLING ME WHO MAKES YOUR LOVELY FROCKS? I'M _SO_ DISSATISFIED WITH MY +DRESSMAKER!" + +"OH, CERTAINLY. MRS. CHIFFONNETTE, OF BOND STREET." + +"CHIFFONNETTE! WHY, I'VE BEEN TO HER FOR YEARS! THE WRETCH! I WONDER +WHY SHE SUITS YOU SO MUCH BETTER, NOW!"] + + * * * * * + +A TALK OVER THE TUB; + +_OR, LEGAL LAUNDRESSES IN COUNCIL._ + + ["The whole legal machinery is out of gear, and the country is + too busy to put it right."--_Law Times_.] + +_A LEADING LAUNDRESS._ + + Wich I say, Missis 'ALSBURY, Mum, + We are all getting into a quand'ry; + You and me can no longer be dumb, + Seein' how we're the heads of the Laundry: + It is all very well to stand 'ere, + Sooperintending the soaping and rinsing; + Old pleas for delay, I much fear, + Are no longer entirely conwincing. + Just look at the Linen--in 'eaps! + And no one can say it ain't dirty! + Our clients, a-grumbling they keeps, + And some of 'em seem getting shirty. + Wotever, my dear, shall we do? + Two parties 'as axed me that question; + And now I just puts it to _you_, + And I 'ope you can make some suggestion. + +_HEAD LAUNDRESS._ + + My dear Missis COLEY, I own + _I_ ain't heard from the parties you 'int at. + But them Linen-'eaps certny _has_ grown, + Wich their bulk I 'ave just took a squint at. + We sud, and we rub, and we scrub. + And the pile 'ardly seems to diminish. + It tires us poor Slaves of the Tub, + And the doose only knows when we'll finish, + +_A LEADING LAUNDRESS._ + + Percisely, my dear, but it's _that_, + As the Public insists upon knowin', + Missis MATHEW 'as told me so, pat, + Wich likeways 'as good Missis BOWEN. + You can't floor their argyments, quite, + 'Owsomever you twirl 'em or 'twist 'em; + They say, and I fear they are right, + There is somethink all wrong with our System! + +_HEAD LAUNDRESS._ + + _Our_ System! Well, well, my good soul, + You know 'twasn't _us_ as inwented it. + We wouldn't have got into this 'ole, + If _you_ and _me_ could 'ave perwented it. + I know there's no end of a block, + That expenses is running up awfully; + The sight of it gives me a shock, + But 'ow can we alter it--_lawfully_? + +_A LEADING LAUNDRESS._ + + I fear, Mum, I very much fear, + That word doesn't strike so much terror + As once on the dull public ear; + Times change. Mum, they do, make no error! + Our clients complain of the cost, + And lots of Commercials is leaving us. + I think, Mum, afore more is lost, + We had best own the block is--well grieving us! + +_HEAD LAUNDRESS._ + + There can't be no 'arm, dear, in _that_. + Let's write to the papers and 'int it. + I know with your pen you are pat, + And the _Times_ will be 'appy to print it. + If we are to git through _that_ lot, + We must 'ave some more 'elp--that's my notion! + Let's strike whilst the iron is 'ot, + The Public may trust our dewotion. + We'll call the chief Laundresses round; + Some way we no doubt shall discover. + At least, dear, 'twill 'ave a good sound, + If we meet, and--well _talk the thing over!_ + + [_Left doing so._ + + * * * * * + +A MENU FROM HATFIELD. + +POTAGES. + +Consomme de Neveu aux Balles de Golf. +Au Jo poche. + +ENTREES. + +Supreme de Livres Bleus. +Irlandais Sauvages en Culottes. +Filou Mignon Randolph, Sauce Tartarin. +Degout de Goschen a la Financiere. + +ROTS. + +Canards Portuguais. +Entrecote d'Afrique a l'Allemande. + +RELEVES. + +Terrine de Fermes Vendues a la Parnell. +Pate de Loi a l'Ordre Publique. + +LEGUMES. + +Petits Soupcons Francais, Sauce Egyptienne. +Vepres Ceciliennes. + +ENTREMETS. + +Absorbe de Birmingham. +Succes de Whitehall aux Affaires Etrangeres. + +DESSERT. + +Amendes Parlementaires. +Raisons de Plus en Defaites. + + * * * * * + +[Illustration: "SHORT 'ANDED." + +MRS. H-LSB-RY. "I TELL YOU WHAT IT IS, MRS. COLEY, MUM,--IF ALL THIS +'ERE DIRTY LINEN'S TO BE GOT THROUGH, WE MUST 'AVE _'ELP_, MUM!!"] + + * * * * * + +"THE MUSIC IN OUR STREET." + +(_A WORD FROM A GIRL WHO LIVES IN IT._) + +[Illustration] + + Did you ever 'ear our music? What, never? _There_'s a shame; + I tell yer it's golopshus, we do 'ave such a game. + When the sun's a-shinin' brightly, when the fog's upon the town, + When the frost 'as bust the water-pipes, when rain comes pourin' down; + In the mornin' when the costers come a-shoutin' with their mokes, + In the evenin' when the gals walk out a-spoonin' with their blokes, + When Mother's slappin' BILLY, or when Father wants 'is tea, + When the boys are in the "Spotted Dog" a 'avin' of a spree, + No matter what the weather is, or what the time o' day, + _Our_ music allus visits us, and never goes away. + And when they've tooned theirselves to-rights, I tell yer it's a treat + Just to listen to the lot of 'em a-playin' in our street. + + There's a chap as turns the orgin--the best I ever 'eard-- + Oh lor' he does just jabber, but you can't make out a word. + I can't abear Italians, as allus uses knives, + And talks a furrin lingo all their miserable lives. + But this one calls me BELLA--which my Christian name is SUE-- + And 'e smiles and turns 'is orgin very proper, that he do. + Sometimes 'e plays a polker and sometimes it's a march, + And I see 'is teeth all shinin' through 'is lovely black mustarch. + And the little uns dance round him, you'd laugh until you cried + If you saw my little brothers do their 'ornpipes side by side, + And the gals they spin about as well, and don't they move their feet, + When they 'ear that pianner-orgin man, as plays about our street. + + There's a feller plays a cornet too, and wears a ulster coat, + My eye, 'e does puff out 'is cheeks a-tryin' for 'is note. + It seems to go right through yer, and, oh, it's right-down rare + When 'e gives us "_Annie Laurie_" or "_Sweet Spirit, 'ear my Prayer_"; + 'E's so stout that when 'e's blowin' 'ard you think 'e must go pop; + And 'is nose is like the lamp (what's red) outside a chemist's shop. + And another blows the penny-pipe,--I allus thinks it's thin, + And I much prefers the cornet when 'e ain't bin drinkin' gin. + And there's Concertina-JIMMY, it makes yer want to shout + When 'e acts just like a windmill and waves 'is arms about. + Oh, I'll lay you 'alf a tanner, you'll find it 'ard to beat + The good old 'eaps of music that they gives us in our street. + + And a pore old ragged party, whose shawl is shockin' torn, + She sings to suit 'er 'usband while 'e plays on so forlorn. + 'Er voice is dreadful wheezy, and I can't exactly say + I like 'er style of singin' "_Tommy Dodd_" or "_Nancy Gray_." + But there, she does 'er best, I'm sure; I musn't run 'er down, + When she's only tryin' all she can to earn a honest brown. + Still, though I'm mad to 'ear 'em play, and sometimes join the dance, + I often wish one music gave the other kind a chance. + The orgin might have two days, and the cornet take a third, + While the pipe-man tried o' Thursdays 'ow to imitate a bird. + But they allus comes together, singin' playin' as they meet + With their pipes and 'orns and orgins in the middle of our street. + + But there, I can't stand chatterin', pore mother's mortal bad, + And she's got to work the whole day long to keep things straight for dad. + Complain? Not she. She scrubs and rubs with all 'er might and main, + And the lot's no sooner finished but she's got to start again. + There's a patch for JOHNNY's jacket, a darn for BILLY's socks, + And an hour or so o' needlework a mendin' POLLY's frocks; + With floors to wash, and plates to clean, she'd soon be skin and bone + ('Er cough's that aggravatin') if she did it all alone. + There'll be music while we're workin' to keep us on the go-- + I like my tunes as fast as fast, pore mother likes 'em slow-- + Ah! we don't get much to laugh at, nor yet too much to eat, + And the music stops us thinkin' when they play it in the street. + + * * * * * + +"MARIE, COME UP!"--When Miss MARIE LLOYD, who, unprofessionally, when +at home, is known as Mrs. PERCY COURTENAY, which her Christian name is +MATILDA, recently appeared at Bow-Street Police Court, having summoned +her husband for an assault, the Magistrate, Mr. LUSHINGTON, ought +to have called on the Complainant to sing "_Whacky, Whacky, Whack!_" +which would have come in most appropriately. Let us hope that the +pair will make it up, and, as the story-books say, "live happily ever +afterwards." + + * * * * * + +NIGHT LIGHTS.--Rumour has it that certain Chorus Ladies have objected +to wearing electric glow-lamps in their hair. Was it for fear of +becoming too light-headed? + + * * * * * + +[Illustration: THE POLITICAL WIREPULLER AT WORK.] + + * * * * * + +POLITE LITERATURE. + +DEAR MR. PUNCH,--Having seen in the pages of one of your +contemporaries several deeply interesting letters telling of "the +Courtesy of the CAVENDISH," I think it will be pleasing to your +readers to learn that I have a fund of anecdote concerning the +politeness--the true politeness--of many other members of the Peerage. +Perhaps you will permit me to give you a few instances of what I may +call aristocratic amiability. + +On one occasion the Duke of DITCHWATER and a Lady entered the same +omnibus simultaneously. There was but one seat, and noticing that +His Grace was standing, I called attention to the fact. "Certainly," +replied His Grace, with a quiet smile, "but if I had sat down, the +Lady would not have enjoyed her present satisfactory position!" The +Lady herself had taken the until then vacant place! + +Shortly afterwards I met Viscount VERMILION walking in an opposite +direction to the path I myself was pursuing. "My Lord," I murmured, +removing my hat, "I was quite prepared to step into the gutter." "It +was unnecessary," returned his Lordship, graciously, "for as the path +was wide, there was room enough for both of us to pass on the same +pavement!" + +On a very wet evening I saw My Lord TOMNODDICOMB coming from a shop +in Piccadilly. Noticing that his Lordship had no defence against the +weather, I ventured to offer the Peer my _parapluie_. + +[Illustration] + +"Please let me get into my carriage," observed his Lordship. Then +discovering, from my bowing attitude, that I meant no insolence by my +suggestion, he added,--"And as for your umbrella--surely on this rainy +night you can make use of it yourself?" + +Yet again. The Marchioness of LOAMSHIRE was on the point of crossing a +puddle. + +Naturally I divested myself of my greatcoat, and threw it as a bridge +across her Ladyship's dirty walk. + +The Marchioness smiled, but her Ladyship has never forgotten the +circumstance, and I have the coat still by me. + +And yet some people declare that the wives of Members of the House of +Lords are wanting in consideration! + +Believe me, dear _Mr. Punch_, + +Yours enthusiastically, S. NOB. + +_The Cringeries, Low Booington_. + + * * * * * + +NOTICE--No. XXV. of "Travelling Companions" next week. + + * * * * * + +[Illustration: FANCY PORTRAIT. + +SENOR DRUMMONDO WOLFFEZ, REPRESENTING THE JOHN BULLFIGHTER AT MADRID. + +_"TOREADOR CONTENTO!"_] + + * * * * * + +THE JUDGES IN COUNCIL. + + ["All the judicial wisdom of the Supreme Court has met in + solemn and secret conclave, heralded by letters from the heads + of the Bench, admitting serious evils in the working of the + High Court of Justice; a full working day was appropriated for + the occasion; the learned Judges met at 11 A.M. (nominally) + and rose promptly for luncheon, and for the day, at 1.30 + P.M. Two-and-a-half hours' work, during which each of the + twenty-eight judicial personages no doubt devoted all his + faculties and experience to the discovery, discussion, and + removal of the admittedly numerous defects in the working of + the Judicature Acts! Two-and-a-half hours, which might have + been stolen from the relaxations of a Saturday afternoon! + Two-and-a-half hours, for which the taxpayers of the United + Kingdom pay some eight hundred guineas! Truly the spectacle + is eminently calculated to inspire the country with confidence + and hopes of reform."--_Extract from Letter to the Times._] + + SCENE--_A Room at the Royal Courts. Lord CHANCELLOR, Lord + CHIEF JUSTICE, MASTER of the ROLLS, Lords Justices, Justices._ + +_L.C._ Well, I'm very glad to see you all looking so well, but can +anyone tell me why we've met at all? + +_L.C.J._ Talking of meetings, do you remember that Exeter story dear +old JACK TOMPKINS used to tell on the Western Circuit? + +[Illustration: Fee-simple.] + + [_Proceeds to tell JACK TOMPKINS's story at great length to + great interest of Chancery Judges._ + +_M.R._ (_who has listened with marked impatience_). Why, my dear +fellow, it isn't a Western Circuit story at all. It was on the +Northern Circuit at Appleby. + + [_Proceeds to tell the same story all over again, substituting + Appleby for Exeter. At the conclusion of story, Great laughter + from Chancery Judges. Common Law Judges look bored, having + all told same story on and about their own Circuits._ + +_L.C._ Very good--very good--used to tell it myself on the South Wales +Circuit--but what have we met for? + +_Lord Justice A._ I say, what do you think about this +cross-examination fuss? It seems to me-- + +_L.C.J._ Talking of cross-examination--do you fellows remember the +excellent story dear old JOHNNIE BROWBEAT used to tell about the +Launceston election petition? + + [_Proceeds to tell story in much detail. L.C. looks + uncomfortable at its conclusion_. + +_M.R._ (_cutting in_). Why, my dear fellow, it wasn't Launceston at +all, it was Lancaster, and-- + + [_Tells story all over again to the Chancery Judges._ + +_L.C._ Yes--excellent. I thought it took place at Chester--but really, +now, we must get to business. So, first of all, will anyone kindly +tell me what the business is? + +_Mr. Justice A._ (_a very young Judge_). Well, the fact is, I believe +the Public-- + +_Chorus of Judges_. The what? + +_Mr. Justice A._ (_with hesitation_). Why--I was going to say there +seems to be a sort of discontent amongst the Public-- + +_L.C._ (_with dignity_). Really, really--what have we to do with the +Public? But in case there should be any truth in this extraordinary +statement, I think we might as well appoint a Committee to look into +it, and then we can meet again some day and hear what it is all about. + +_L.C.J._ Yes, a Committee by all means; the smaller the better. "Too +many cooks," as dear old HORACE puts it. + +_M.R._ Talking of cooks, isn't it about lunch time? + + [_General consensus of opinion in favour of lunching. As + they adjourn, L.C.J. detains Chancery Judges to tell them a + story about something that happened at Bodmin, and, to prevent + mistakes, tells it in West Country dialect. M.R. immediately + repeats it in strong Yorkshire, and lays the venue at + Bradford. Result; that the whole of HER MAJESTY's Courts in + London were closed for one day._ + + * * * * * + +THE LAY OF THE LITIGANT. + +(_AFTER HOOD. ALSO AFTER COLERIDGE'S (C.J.) LETTER TO THE LORD +CHANCELLOR ON THE DECAY OF LEGAL BUSINESS._) + + I remember, I remember + The Law when I was born, + The Serjeants, brothers of the coif, + The Judges dead and gone. + The Judicature Acts to them + Were utterly unknown; + It was a fearful ignorance-- + Oh, would it were my own! + + I remember, I remember + The worthy "Proctor" race, + The "Posteas," and the "Elegits," + The "Actions on the Case." + The "Error" each Attorney's Clerk + Did wilfully abet, + The days of "Bills" in Equity-- + _Some_ bills are living yet! + + I remember, I remember + The years of "_Jarndyce_" jaw, + The lively game of shuttlecock + 'Twixt Equity and Law. + Tribunals then were "Courts" indeed + That are "Divisions" now, + And Silken Gowns have feared the frowns + Upon a "Baron's" brow. + + We remember, we remember + The flourishing of trumps, + When Parliament took up our wrongs, + And manned the legal pumps. + Those noble Acts (they said) would end + Obstructions and delay, + And ne'er again would litigants + The piper have to pay. + + I remember, I remember + Expenses, mountains high; + I used to think, when duly "taxed," + They'd vanish by-and-by. + It was a foolish confidence, + But now 'tis little joy + To know that Law's as slow and dear + As when I was a boy! + + * * * * * + +THE HERO OF THE SUMMER SALE. + +(_BY OUR OWN PRIVATE AND CONFIDENTIAL POETESS_.) + +[Illustration] + + I would I loved some belted Earl, + Some Baronet, or K.C.B., + But I'm a most unhappy girl, + And no such luck's in store for me! + I would I loved some Soldier bold, + Who leads his troops where cannons pop, + But if the bitter truth be told-- + I love a man who walks a shop! + For oh! a King of Men is he-- + With princely strut and stiffened spine-- + So his, and his alone, shall be, + This fondly foolish heart of mine! + + On Remnant Days--from morn till night, + When blows fall fast, and words run high, + When frenzied females fiercely fight + For bargains that they long to buy-- + From hot attack he does not flinch, + But stands his ground with visage pale, + And all the time looks every inch + The Hero of that Summer Sale! + For oh! a King of Men is he-- + Whom shop-assistants call to "Sign!" + So his, and his alone, shall be + This fondly foolish heart of mine! + + * * * * * + +MONDAY, _Jan._ 18, 1892. "Bath and West of England's Society's Cheese +School at Frome." Of this School, the _Times_, judging by results, +speaks highly of "the practical character of the instruction given +at the School." This is a bad look-out for Eton and Harrow, not +to say for Winchester and Westminster also. All parents who wish +their children to be "quite the cheese" in Society generally, and +particularly for Bath and the West of England, where, of course, +Society is remarkably exclusive, cannot do better, it is evident, +than send them to the Bath and West of England Cheese School. + + * * * * * + +ON THE TRAILL.--It is suggested that in future M.P. should stand for +Minor Poet. Would this satisfy Mr. LEWIS MORRIS? Or would he insist on +being gazetted as a Major? + + * * * * * + +OUR BOOKING-OFFICE. + +[Illustration: The following Page.] + +One of the Baron's Deputy-Readers has been looking through Mr. +G.W. HENLEY's _Lyra Heroica; a Book of Verse for Boys_. DAVID NUTT, +London.) This is his appreciation:--Mr. HENLEY has tacked his name +to a collection which contains some noble poems, some (but not much) +trash, and a good many pieces, which, however poetical they may be, +are certainly not heroic, seeing that they do not express "the simpler +sentiments, and the more elemental emotions" (I use Mr. HENLEY's +prefatory words), and are scarcely the sort of verse that boys are +likely, or ought to care about. To be sure, Mr. HENLEY guards himself +on the score of his "personal equation"--I trust his boys understand +what he means. My own personal equation makes me doubt whether Mr. +HENLEY has done well in including such pieces as, for instance, +HERBERT's "_Memento Mori_," CURRAN's "_The Deserter_," SWINBURNE's +"_The Oblation_," and ALFRED AUSTIN's "_Is Life Worth Living_?" If Mr. +HENLEY, or anybody else who happens to possess a personal equation, +will point out to me the heroic quality in these poems, I shall feel +deeply grateful. And how, in the name of all that is or ever was +heroic, has "_Auld Lang Syne_" crept into this collection of heroic +verse? As for Mr. ALFRED AUSTIN, I cannot think by what right he +secures a place in such a compilation. I have rarely read a piece +of his which did not contain at least one glaring infelicity. In +"_Is Life Worth Living_?" he tells us of "blithe herds," which (in +compliance with the obvious necessities of rhyme, but for no other +reason) + + "Wend homeward with unweary feet, + Carolling like the birds." + +Further on we find that + + "England's trident-sceptre roams + Her territorial seas," + +merely because the unfortunate sceptre has to rhyme somehow to +"English homes." + +But I have a further complaint against Mr. HENLEY. He presumes, in the +most fantastic manner, to alter the well-known titles of celebrated +poems. "_The Isles of Greece_" is made to masquerade as "The Glory +that was Greece"; "_Auld Lang Syne_" becomes "The Goal of Life," and +"_Tom Bowline_" is converted into "The Perfect Sailor." This surely +(again I use the words of Mr. HENLEY) "is a thing preposterous, and +distraught." On the whole, I cannot think that Mr. HENLEY has done +his part well. His manner is bad. His selection, it seems to me, is +open to grave censure, on broader grounds than the mere personally +equational of which he speaks, and his choppings, and sub-titles, +and so forth, are not commendable. The irony of literary history has +apparently ordained that Mr. HENLEY should first patronise, and then +"cut," both CAMPBELL and MACAULAY. Was the shade of MACAULAY disturbed +when he learnt that Mr. HENLEY considered his "_Battle of Naseby_" +both "vicious and ugly"? + +BARON DE BOOK-WORMS & CO. + + * * * * * + +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, Volume +102, January 30, 1892, by Various + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PUNCH *** + +***** This file should be named 14272.txt or 14272.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/1/4/2/7/14272/ + +Produced by Malcolm Farmer, William Flis, and the PG 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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