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diff --git a/old/14390-8.txt b/old/14390-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..2c90a50 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/14390-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,1645 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Punch, Or The London Charivari, Volume 102, +April 2, 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, April 2, 1892 + +Author: Various + +Release Date: December 20, 2004 [EBook #14390] + +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. + + + +April 2, 1892. + + + + +"'TIS MERRY IN HALL." + +[Illustration: "Knock'd 'em!"] + +"What's in an 'at without an 'ed?" DISTAFFINA DE COCKAIGNE was wont +to inquire, and "what's an 'all" (of Music like the London Pavilion) +"without a NED" in the shape of Mr. EDWARD SWANBOROUGH, the +all-knowing yet ever-green Acting Manager at this place of +entertainment, who possessing the secret of perpetual youth in all the +glory of ever-resplendent hat and ever-dazzling shirt-front, ushers +us into the Stalls in time to hear the best part of an excellent +all-round show. It is sad to think that, probably as we were disputing +with the cabman, the celebrated Miss BOOM-TE-RÉ-SA, alias LOTTIE +COLLINS, Serio-Comic and Dancer, was "booming" and "teraying" before +the eyes of a delighted audience. Strange that we should not yet +have heard the great original. But as she is not (so to adapt a line +from the "_Last Rose of Summer_") "left booming alone," we have +not escaped hearing several of her male and female imitators who, +by her kind permission and that of her publishers, trade on her +present exceptional success. However, when we entered the Stalls, +Miss BOOM-TE-RÉ-SA had disappeared, and somebody with a song had +"intervened"--a mode of proceeding not necessarily limited to the +Queen's Proctor--before the object of our visit walked on to the +stage, and when he did come a pretty object he was too, seeing that +it was Mr. ALBERT CHEVALIER, the unequalled and inimitable Comedian +of the Costermongers. He is a thorough artist in this particular +line, and no indifferent one in others; but his Coster ballads are +artistically first rate. The fashion of calling English singers by +Italian names is on the wane, otherwise Mr. ALBERT CHEVALIER, of +French extraction, would find an excellent Italian alias, closely +associated with the operatic and musical professions, and most +appropriate to the line he has adopted, in the name of "SIGNOR COSTA." +The melody of Mr. CHEVALIER's "_Coster's Serenade_," of which, I +rather think, he is the composer as well as librettist, is as charming +as it is strikingly original. After the _Chevalier sans peur et sans +approche_ had retired, clever and sprightly Miss JENNY HILL gave as +a taste of lodging-house-keeperism, following whom came the Two MACS +belabouring each other in their old hopelessly idiotic, but always +utterly irresistible style; and then Lieutenant W. COLE--King COLE +we "crowned him long ago"--gave his ventriloquial entertainment, who, +with his troop of talking dolls, should have his address at Dollis +Hill. There were many "turns" yet to follow when we left, at a +comparatively early hour; "and so," to quote old PEPYS, "home with +much content." + + * * * * * + +"TO HAVE AND TO HOLD." + + Big promises and Party scoldings + Won't cure "Small Savings" by "Small Holdings." + + * * * * * + +THE MARVELS OF MODERN SCIENCE. + + SCENE--_Interior of Small Box containing telephone with book + of addresses. Enter hurriedly_ Impatient Subscriber. + +_Impatient Subscriber_ (_turning over leaves of address-book_). +Of course I can't find it! Ah! here it is! 142086. (_Rings bell +of telephone, and listens with receivers to his ear._) Now I have +forgotten it! (_Puts back receivers on rests, and refers again to +book. Telephone bell rings in answer. He hurries back and calls._) +One hundred and forty-two nought eighty-six. + +_First Voice_ (_from telephone_). One hundred and forty-two? + +_Imp. Sub._ Yes, and nought eighty-six. + +_First Voice_. Which do you want? + +_Imp. Sub._ Why, both. + +_First Voice_. You can't. Must have one at a time. + +_Imp. Sub._ It's only one. One four two nought eight six. + +_First Voice_. One four two nought eight six? + +_Imp. Sub._ Yes, please. One four two nought eight six. + +_First Voice_. Very well. Why didn't you give the number before? + +_Imp. Sub._ (_angrily_). Well, I have given it now. (_He listens +intently, exclaiming now and again_, "_Are you there_?" _and then +rings_.) One four two nought eight six, please. + +_First Voice_ (_after a pause_). What! + +_Imp. Sub._ One four two nought eight six, please. + +[Illustration] + +_First Voice_ (_as if the number is now heard for the first time_). +One four two nought eight six? + +_Imp. Sub._ Yes, please. And look sharp! + +_First Voice_. What? + +_Imp. Sub._ One four two nought eight six. + +_First Voice_. I hear. One four two nought eight six. [_The +communication is cut off for a couple of minutes._ + +_Imp. Sub._ (_for the sixth time_). Are you there? + +_Second Voice_. Yes. Who is it? + +_Imp. Sub._ I am BOSH, BOODLE & CO. + +_Second Voice_. RUSH, RUDDLE & CO.? + +_Imp. Sub._ No. BOSH, BOODLE & CO. + +_First Voice_. Have you finished? + +_Imp. Sub._ No, no--we are still speaking. I want to know if you have +sent that case of champagne to BUMBLETON? + +_Second Voice_. What? I can't hear you. + +_Imp. Sub._ (_speaking very slowly, as if dictating to imperfectly +educated infants_). Have--you--sent--that--case--of--cham--pagne--to +BUM--BLE--TON? + +_Second Voice_ (_puzzled_). Sent a case of champagne? + +_First Voice_ (_interposing_.) Have you finished? + +_Imp. Sub._ No, we are still speaking. Yes--have you sent a case of +champagne to BUMBLETON? + +_Second Voice_. Sent a case of champagne to BUMBLETON? No; why should +we? + +_Imp. Sub._ Because you promised TICKLEBY you would. + +_Second Voice_ (_evidently perplexed_). Promised TICKLEBY? + +_Imp. Sub._ (_in a tone of reproach_). Yes, promised TICKLEBY. + +_First Voice_ (_interposing_.) Have you finished? + +_Imp. Sub._ No, we are still speaking; please don't cut us off. +(_Returning to the champagne subject_). Yes, you promised TICKLEBY you +would send the case of champagne to BUMBLETON. (_With inspiration._) +You are the Arctic Wine Company, aren't you? + +_Second Voice_. No. I am Secretary of the Curate's Papier Mâché Church +Company. + +_Imp. Sub._ (_in a tone of sorrow_). Aren't you one four two nought +eight six? + +_Third Voice_ (_coming from somewhere_). Mind and bring a gun with +you, and--. + +_Second Voice_. No. We are two four eight nought six seven. Good +morning! + +_First Voice_. Have you finished? + +_Imp. Sub._ (_angrily_). I have not begun! You have put me on the +wrong number! + +_First Voice_ (_calmly_). What number do you want? + +_Imp. Sub._ (_angrily_). One four two nought eight six. + +_First Voice_. Two four two nought eight six? + +_Imp. Sub._ (_with suppressed rage_). No, _one_ four two nought eight +six. + +_First Voice_. Very well. One four two nought eight six. + +_Imp. Sub._ Yes, and don't make a mistake. + + [_Long pause, during which he asks_, "_Are you there?_" _at + intervals._ + +_Fourth Voice_. What is it? + +_Imp. Sub._ Are you Arctic Wine Company? + +_Fourth Voice_. Yes, all right! What is it? + +_Imp. Sub._ (_joyfully_). Have you sent a case of champagne to +BUMBLETON? + +_Fourth Voice_. What? I can't hear you. + +_First Voice_. (_interposing_). Have you finished? + +_Imp. Sub._ No, we are still speaking. Have you sent a case of +champagne to BUMBLETON? + +_Fourth Voice_. We can't hear you. Send a messenger. + +_First Voice_. Have you finished? + +_Imp. Sub._ (_shouting_). Yes! (_Is cut off._) Shorter to have done so +at once! + + [_Uses intemperate language, and hurries off to get a + Messenger. Curtain._ + + * * * * * + +THE CHURLISH CABMAN. + +AIR--"_BALLYHOOLEY_." + +[Illustration] + + The Cabman's thrifty fares, + Who would seek suburban airs, + Desire, of course, a more extended "radius;" + But, Cabby, it is clear, + Thinks quite otherwise. I fear + The controversy's growing rather "taydious." + Whether by night or day, + A fair fare the fare should pay, + And Cabby should not overcharge unduly; + But _this_ is what riles _me_, + When churl Cabby _will_ not see + A would-be fare, but just ignores him coolly. + + _Chorus_. + + "_Hi! hi! Cab! Hi_!" Oh, no! + On the sullen brute will go; + When he _wants_ a fare, he's clamorous and unruly; + But if he wants a _drink_, + With a sneer or with a wink, + He'll rumble on and just ignore you coolly. + + * * * * * + +[Illustration: DESTROYING THE MONEY-LENDER'S WEB; OR, THE THIRTEENTH +LABOUR OF HERSCHELLES.] + + * * * * * + +[Illustration: RATHER SMART ALL ROUND. + +_Lady Di._ (_who has been trying a Horse with a view to purchase_). +"AND DO YOU REALLY THINK THAT HE'S QUITE UP TO MY WEIGHT, MR. SPAVIN?" + +_Spavin._ "LOR! MY LADY, HE'D CARRY TWO OF YOU!" + +_Lady Di._ "WHAT? DO YOU MEAN TO SAY THAT I'M ONLY HALF A HORSEWOMAN?" + +_Spavin._ "BY NO MEANS, MY LADY. BUT ANOTHER LIKE YOUR LADYSHIP WOULD +LOOK SO WELL ON THE OTHER SIDE!"] + + * * * * * + +HOW TO REPORT THE PRACTICE OF THE CREWS. + +(_NEWEST STYLE._) + +Scarcely had the tintinabulum fixed on the altitude of the clock tower +of the ecclesiastical building known to fame and rowing men as Putney +Church sounded out the merry chimes of eleven in the forenoon, when +the wielders of the sky-blue (or dark-blue) blades were observed by +the eager frequenters of the tow-path carrying their trim-built ship +to the water's edge. Not many moments were cut to waste before each +man had safely ensconced himself on the thwart built for him under the +experienced eyes of the champion boat-builder. The men looked, it must +in all fairness be admitted, in the high level of condition. In each +eye there blazed a stern determination to do or die on every possible +occasion. When the signal to start was given, the boat was observed +to move with the bounding speed of a highly-trained greyhound. The +oars dipped into the water like one man, though a marked inclination +was observed on the part of two or three of the oarsmen to "hurry," +while the rest seemed equally disposed to be "late." A few fatherly +words from the prince of modern coaches soon had the desired effect +of placing matters on a more completely satisfactory footing. The +suggestion often made in these columns that a swifter rate of striking +should be introduced, was acted upon. The boat moved with perfect +evenness, while the wavelets played round her like young dolphins out +for a holiday. + +I need only add that our old friend Jupiter Pluvius proved once again +to be a kind friend to those who tempted the dangers of the foaming +tide in Putney Reach. In conclusion, it must be observed that the +stroke was sometimes "short" and occasionally "long," but the "slides" +moved like things of life, and contributed greatly to the pleasure of +a very enjoyable outing. + + * * * * * + +DESTROYING THE SPIDER'S WEB; + +_OR, THE THIRTEENTH LABOUR OF HERSCHELLES._ + + "To Lion-Hearted Hercules," the strong, + Sounded the clarion of Homeric song. + "Alcides, forcefullest of all the brood + Of men enforced with need of earthly food." + _Punch_ will sing gallant Herschelles, than whom + Who was more worthy of Alcmene's womb + Or Jovian parentage? Behold him stand + With lion-hide on loins, and club in hand! + Forceful and formidable to all foes, + But fatal most especially to those + Of Hydra presence and Stymphalian beak, + Whose quarry is unseasoned youth, who seek + By subtle snares the Infant's steps to trip, + And catch the Minor in their harpy grip. + To his Twelve Labours, against monsters grim, + Who might have lived in safety but for him, + To snare, to slay, to humbug, and to cozen, + Herschelles, just to make a baker's dozen, + Adds a Thirteenth! + A wily, wicked wight, + Dwelling in noxious nooks as dark as night, + Beyond the radius of the housemaid's broom, + And thence dispensing dire disgrace and doom + Long time our homes hath haunted. Greedy Ghoul, + As furtive of advance as fierce of soul, + The Money-lending Spider is his name, + And grim and gruesome was his little game. + Of swollen body, of protuberant beak, + He knew that Youths were green, and Infants weak, + And spun his web, invisible but strong, + Where'er GRAY's well-named "little triflers" throng, + Who, verily unmindful of their doom, + He watched from forth his grubby haunts of gloom, + And strove by sinister device to lure, + Till, 'midst his viscous mazes once secure, + Them he might seize and suck. + The Birds, the Boar, + The Lion, or the Bull, all whom before + Great Herschelles had tackled, were not worse + Than the Colossal Spider, Albion's curse, + The scourge of childish Wealth and youthful Rank, + The Moloch of our Minors! Fathers, thank + Our new Alcides, who, with legal club, + Could dare the web assault, the Spider drub! + Worse than Tarantula venom hath the bite + Of this Conkiferous Ogre, which to fight + Herschelles did adventure! Thump! Bang! Whack! + The web is burst, the Spider's on his back, + All impotently spluttering poisonous spleen + Let's hope such monster may no more be seen. + And let us hail great Herschelles, whose skill + The high-nosed horror hath availed to kill. + Blow, Infants, blow the pipe, and thump the tabor, + In honour of the hero's Thirteenth Labour! + + * * * * * + +CONFESSIONS OF A DUFFER. + +VII.--THE DUFFER WITH A SALMON-ROD. + +No pursuit is more sedentary, if one may talk of a sedentary pursuit, +and none more to my taste, than trout-fishing as practised in the +South of England. Given fine weather, and a good novel, nothing can he +more soothing than to sit on a convenient stump, under a willow, and +watch the placid kine standing in the water, while the brook murmurs +on, and perhaps the kingfisher flits to and fro. Here you sit and +fleet the time carelessly, till a trout rises. Then, indeed, duty +demands that you shall crawl in the manner of the serpent till you +come within reach of him, and cast a fly, which usually makes him +postpone his dinner-hour. But he will come on again, there is no need +for you to change your position, and you can always fill your basket +easily--with irises and marsh-marigolds. + +[Illustration: "I wade in as far as I can, and make a tremendous swipe +with the rod."] + +Such are our county contents, but woe befall the day when I took to +salmon-fishing. The outfit is expensive, "half-crown flees" soon mount +up, especially if you never go out without losing your fly-book. If +you buy a light rod, say of fourteen feet, the chances are that it +will not cover the water, and a longer rod requires in the fisherman +the strength of a SANDOW. You need wading-breeches, which come up +nearly to the neck, and weigh a couple of stone. The question has been +raised, can one swim in them, in case of an accident? For _one_, I can +answer, he can't. The reel is about the size of a butter-keg, the line +measures hundreds of yards, and the place where you fish for salmon +is usually at the utter ends of the earth. Some enthusiasts begin in +February. Covered with furs, they sit in the stern of a boat, and are +pulled in a funereal manner up and down Loch Tay, while the rods fish +for themselves. The angler's only business is to pick them up if a +salmon bites, and when this has gone on for a few days, with no bite, +Influenza, or a hard frost with curling, would be rather a relief. +This kind of thing is not really angling, and a Duffer is as good at +it as an expert. + +Real difficulties and sufferings begin when you reach the +Cruach-na-spiel-bo, which sounds like Gaelic, and will serve us as +a name for the river. It is, of course, extremely probable that you +pay a large rent for the right to gaze at a series of red and raging +floods, or at a pale and attenuated trickle of water, murmuring +peevishly through a drought. But suppose, for the sake of argument, +that the water is "in order," and only running with deep brown swirls +at some thirty miles an hour. Suppose also, a large presumption, that +the Duffer does not leave any indispensable part of his equipment +at home. He arrives at the stream, and as he detests a gillie, whose +contempt for the Duffer breeds familiarity, he puts up his rod, +selects a casting line, knots on the kind of fly which is locally +recommended, and steps into the water. Oh, how cold it is! I begin +casting at the top of the stream, and step from a big boulder into a +hole. Stagger, stumble, violent bob forwards, recovery, trip up, and +here one is in a sitting position in the bed of the stream. However, +the high india-rubber breeks have kept the water out, except about a +pailful, which gradually illustrates the equilibrium of fluids in the +soles of one's stockings. However, I am on my feet again, and walking +more gingerly, though to the spectator, my movements suggest partial +intoxication. That is because the bed of the stream is full of +boulders, which one cannot see, owing to the darkness of the water. +There was a fish rose near the opposite side. My heart is in my mouth. +I wade in as far as I can, and make a tremendous swipe with the rod. A +frantic tug behind, crash, there goes the top of the rod! I am caught +up in the root of a pine-tree, high up on the bank at my back. No +use in the language of imprecation. I waddle out, climb the bank, +extricate the fly, get out a spare top, and to work again, more +cautiously. Something wrong, the hook has caught in my coat, between +my shoulders. I must get the coat off somehow, not an easy thing to +do, on account of my india-rubber armour. It is off at last. I cut +the hook out with a knife making a big hole in the coat, and cast +again. That was over him! I let the fly float down, working it +scientifically. No response. Perhaps better look at the fly. Just my +luck, I have cracked it off! + +Where is the fly-book? Where indeed? A feverish search for the +fly-book follows--no use: it is not in the basket, it is not in my +pocket; must have fallen out when I fell into the river. No good in +looking for it, the water is too thick, I _thought_ I heard a splash. +Luckily there are some flies in my cap, it looks knowing to have +some flies in one's cap, and it is not so easy to lose a cap, without +noticing it, as to lose most things. Here is a big Silver Doctor that +may do as the water is thick. I put one on, and begin again casting +over where that fish rose. By George, there he came at me, at least +I think it must have been at me, a great dark swirl, "the purple wave +bowed over it like a hill," but he never touched me. Give him five +minutes law, the hook is sure to be well fastened on, need not bother +looking at that again. Five minutes take a long time in passing, when +you are giving a salmon a rest. Good times and bad times and all times +pass, so here goes. It is correct to begin a good way above him and +come down to him. I'm past him; no, there is a long heavy drag under +water, I get the point up, he is off like a shot, while I stand in a +rather stupid attitude, holding on. If I cannot get out and run down +the bank, he has me at his mercy. I do stagger out, somehow, falling +on my back, but keeping the point up with my right hand. No bones +broken, but surely he is gone! I begin reeling up the line, with a +heavy heart, and try to lift it out of the water. It won't come, he +is here still, he has only doubled back. Hooray! Nothing so nice +as being all alone when you hook a salmon. No gillie to scream out +contradictory orders. He is taking it very easy, but suddenly he moves +out a few yards, and begins jiggering, that is, giving a series of +short heavy tugs. They say he is never well hooked, when he jiggers. +The rod thrills unpleasantly in my hands, I wish he wouldn't do that. +It is very disagreeable and makes me very nervous. Hullo! he is off +again up-stream, the reel ringing like mad: he gets into the thin +water at the top, and jumps high in the air. He is a monster. Hullo! +what's that splash? The reel has fallen off, it was always loose, and +has got into the water. How am I to act now? He is coming back like +mad, and all the line is loose, and I can't reel up. I begin pulling +at the line to bring up the reel, but the reel only lets the line +out, and now he is off again, down stream this time, and I after him, +and the line running out at both ends at once, and now my legs get +entangled in it, it is twisted all round me. He runs again and jumps, +the line comes back in my face, all slack, something has given. It +is the hook, it was not knotted on firmly to start with. He flings +himself out of the water once more to be sure that he is free, and I +sit down and gnaw the reel. Had ever anybody such bad fortune, but it +is just my luck! + +I go back to the place where the reel fell in, and by pulling +cautiously I extract it from the stream. It shan't come off again; I +tie it on with the leather lace of one of my brogues. Then I reel up +the slack, and put on another fly, out of my cap, a Popham. Then I +fish down the rest of the pool. Near the edge, in the slower part of +the water, there is a long slow draw, before I can lift the point of +the rod, a salmon jumps high out of the water at me,--and is gone! +I never struck him, was too much taken aback at the moment; did not +expect him then. Thank goodness, the hook is not off this time. + +The next stream is very deep, strong and narrow; the best chance is +close in on my side. By Jove, here he is, he took almost beside the +rock. He sails leisurely out into the strength of the stream, if he +will come up, I can manage him, but if he goes down, the water is +very swift and broken, there are big boulders, and then a sheer wall +of rock difficult to pass in cold blood, and then the Big Pool. He +insists on going down, I hold hard on him, and refuse line. But he +leaps, and then, well he _will_ have it; down he rushes, I after him, +over the stones, scrambling along the rocky face; great heavens! _the +top joint of the rod is loose_; I did not tie it on, thought it would +hold well enough. But down it runs, right down the line; it must be +touching the fish. It is; he does not like it, he jiggers like a mad +thing, rushes across the Big Pool, nearly on to the opposite bank. +Why won't the line run? The line is entangled in my boot-lace. He is +careering about; I feel that I am trembling like a leaf. There, I knew +it would happen; he is off with my last casting-line, hook and all. A +beauty he was, clear as silver and fresh from the sea. Well, there is +nothing for it but a walk back to the house. I have lost one fly-book, +two hooks, a couple of casting-lines, three salmon, a top joint, and I +have torn a great hole in my coat. On changing my dress before lunch, +I find my fly-book in my breast pocket, where I had not thought of +looking for it somehow. Then the rain comes, and there is not another +fishing day in my fortnight. Still, it decidedly was "one crowded hour +of glorious life," while it lasted. The other men caught four or five +salmon apiece; it is their Red Letter Day. It is marked in black in my +calendar. + + * * * * * + +TOOTING. + + ["It is a noteworthy fact that while debates have been + languishing at Westminster, at Tooting there have been Members + enough to 'make a House' any day during the past fortnight, + so keen an interest is the 'Royal and Ancient' game + exciting."--_Daily Telegraph._] + + What's the use of hooting. + Or cir-cum-lo-cuting? + M.P.'s off + To play at Golf. + All the way to Tooting! + + Petty points PAT's mooting! + Chances not computing, + M.P. slips, + (Despite the Whips) + Off to Golf at Tooting! + + Landlords _may_ be looting, + Tenants _may_ be shooting; + Where's the fun + In _that_? Let's run + Off to Golf at Tooting! + + So M.P.'s are "scooting," + On-the-gay-galoot-ing; + Cut the House + (It shows their _nous_) + For the Links at Tooting! + + There is joy in shooting, + Wine-ing or cherooting, + Dinners, Moors, + Weeds--_all_ are bores, + Compared with Golf at Tooting! + + * * * * * + +[Illustration: CONSIDERATION FOR OTHERS. + +_Tommy._ "I HAD _SUCH_ A BAD DREAM LAST NIGHT, GRANDPAPA!" + +_The Admiral._ "TELL IT ME, TOMMY." + +_Tommy._ "OH NO! IT WOULD ONLY FRIGHTEN YOU AS IT FRIGHTENED ME!"] + + * * * * * + +"BEYOND THE DREAMS OF AVARICE." + + ["FIFTY POUNDS Reward will be gratefully paid to any Lady + or Gentleman who will ASSIST in RECOVERING a valuable + HEIRLOOM.... Anyone with wealthy or influential friends can at + once secure above reward. Address, &c."] + +[Illustration] + +I am an impecunious young man, and, the other day, on seeing this +Advertisement in the _Times_, I was seized with a wild desire to "at +once secure above reward." Said I to myself, "I have 'wealthy and +influential friends.' There is my cousin's uncle, who has, I believe, +thirty thousand a-year, though I never saw any part of it, or of him, +for the matter of that; and there is my own aunt by marriage, whose +second husband is a K.C.B., but I forget his name, and do not know +where he lives." So I sat and thought about it for a time with my +eyes shut, and then I started. The train was so full, that I imagined +it must be market-day in some neighbouring town, but the station was +so much fuller, that I could hardly get out of the train. At last, +edgeways, I reached a pale and melancholy ticket-collector, and asked +him where I should find the address mentioned. He turned a pitying +eye upon me, and, pointing to the crowd that filled the station, said, +wearily, "They're all a-goin' there. I know, cos they've all arst me. +You'd better foller 'em." + +This statement filled me with desperation; I fought and struggled +through the vast crowd of persons "with wealthy and influential +friends" until I reached the open street. By that time I was +exhausted, and, finding that the street was even fuller than the +station had been, I gave up the attempt. I saw that the reserve +of gold at the Bank of England would not have sufficed to pay each +applicant the promised £50. In any case I felt sure that by that time +the whole of the money in the town must have been used up. So, without +hat or umbrella, and with my coat as much divided up the back as +up the front, I returned--to consciousness, and went on reading the +newspaper. + + * * * * * + +"THE FORESTERS." + + All the greatest swells + Of the U.S.A. + Come to see a new, + Fascinating play. + Verses by a Lord! + Music by a Knight! + Just the thing in which + Democrats delight. + When the hearty praise + Bursts from Yankee lips, + "Pass and blush the news + Over glowing ships;" + What are "glowing ships"? + That I've never guessed, + "Pass the happy news, + Blush it thro' the West;" + This I simply quote + From the poet's muse; + Hang me if I know + How you "blush the news"! + Anyhow, you do, + If the lines will scan, + "Till the red man dance," + Do you think he can? + "And the red man's babe + Leap beyond the sea." + Active sort of child, + Surely, that must be! + "Blush from West to East," + Blush from left to right, + "Till the West is East," + And the black is white, + DALY is the man! + Daily is the play, + "Dailies" puff it up, + In the kindest way. + + * * * * * + +MORE APPROPRIATE.--The Senate House, where the Degree Examinations +take place, might well be termed "The Spinning House." It is there +that unfortunate Candidates are "spun." + + * * * * * + +[Illustration: THINGS ONE WOULD RATHER HAVE LEFT UNSAID. + +_Little Jones_. "YOU'LL GIVE ME A DANCE TO-MORROW NIGHT, WON'T YOU, +MRS. FOOTE?" + +_Mrs. Foote_ (_who is anxious to show her matronly consideration for +Unmarried Girls_). "WELL, I CAN'T PROMISE, AND IF THE MEN RUN _SHORT_, +YOU KNOW, I SHAN'T DANCE AT ALL!"] + + * * * * * + +THE TELEPHONE CINDERELLA; + +OR, WANTED A GODMOTHER. + + ["Far from taking up and developing the new mode of + communication thus given into its hands, it (the Post Office) + could not forget its attitude of hostility to the innovation, + or conceive any larger policy than one of repressing the + telephone in order to make people stick to the telegraph.... + The result is that England lags far behind all other civilised + countries in the use of the telephone."--_Times_.] + +AIR--"_Ulalume_." + + _Cinderella_, you sit and look sober, + _Cinderella_, you mope and look queer-- + You mope, and look dolefully queer; + As chill as JOHN MILLAIS' "_October_," + As you have done, this many a year. + It is hard on you; MOZART or AUBER + Might fail your depression to cheer-- + Had you taken the draught named of Glauber, + You could scarce look duller, my dear + +II. + + Our times, dear, are truly Titanic, + Perfection seems Science's goal-- + Dim, distant, dark Science's goal-- + But we're still a bit given to panic. + Monopolies moodily roll-- + Monopolies restlessly roll-- + That's why there's a movement volcanic + That stirs us from pole unto pole-- + A moaning that's vainly volcanic, + In the realms of the (Telegraph) pole. + +III. + + Deputations are serious and sober, + Officials look palsied and sere-- + They indulge in rhetoric small-beer + (Instead of sound sparkling October) + They're frightened about _you_, my dear-- + (You, at present in two senses, dear!) + They would scan the far future, and probe her, + But can't--and it makes them feel queer; + As you sit by the fire, looking sober, + You make _them_ sit up and feel queer. + +IV. + + Your sisters, whose airs are unpleasant, + Regard you with arrogant scorn-- + With arrogant, uneasy scorn-- + True, they have the pull, for the present, + But fear you, the fair youngest born. + They know that your glory is crescent, + And, though each uplifteth her horn, + Each feels that _her_ glory's senescent, + In spite of their duplicate scorn. + +V. + + _Miss Telegraph_, lifting her finger, + Says--"Sadly this minx I mistrust-- + Her manners I strangely mistrust-- + She'll distance us, dear, if we linger! + Ah, haste!--let us haste!--for we must! + She'll eclipse us--that _would_ be a stinger! + She'll rise, and our business is "bust"-- + My dear, we must snub her, and bring her + Presumptuous pride to the dust-- + Till she sorrowfully sinks in the dust." + +VI. + + _Post_ replies--"Oh, it's nothing but dreaming, + Her hoping to put out _our_ light!-- + Our brilliant and duplicate light! + What did FERGUSSON say, blandly beaming + Upon the tired House t'other night? + He said _he_ would make it all right. + Ah, we safely may trust to his scheming-- + Be sure he will lead us aright-- + He won't let the damsel there dreaming + Despoil us of what is our right-- + The monopoly plainly _our_ right!" + +VII. + + Yet watch _Cinderella_, and list her! + She yet will emerge from her gloom-- + Time will conquer her fears and her gloom. + Before her she hath a bright vista.[1] + The fairy Godmother will come! + Redtape shall not long seal her doom. + What is written is written! No "sister," + (Though scorning her beauty, and broom) + Shall shroud her bright light in the tomb + Which yet the whole land shall illume! + +VIII. + + She's "some pumpkins"--though now she looks sober-- + She's brilliant; she is "no small beer." + No, no, _Cinderella_, my dear! + Your envious "sisters" may jeer, + And sit on you yet, for a year; + Redtape your advancement may fear, + And Monopoly's patrons look queer; + But, as sure as the month of October + Is famous for sound British beer, + Vested Interest time shall prove _no_ bar + To your final triumph, my dear! + +[Footnote 1: POE, not _Mr. Punch_, should have the credit of this and +certain other Cockney rhymes.] + + * * * * * + +"HONI SOIT QUI MAL Y PENSE."--"The competition for the Evill Prize +also took place yesterday" (i.e., last Thursday. _Vide Times_). The +prize so Evilly named was won by Mr. PHILIP BROZEL, of the Royal +Academy of Music, who must have expressed himself as being at least +deucedly delighted, even if he did not use some much stronger and +wronger expression. Henceforth PHILIP BROZEL has an Evill reputation. +Let us hope he will live up to it, and so live it down. + + * * * * * + +[Illustration: THE TELEPHONE CINDERELLA; + +OR, WANTED A GODMOTHER.] + + * * * * * + +MATINÉE MANIA. + +(_A SKETCH AT ANY THEATRE ON MOST AFTERNOONS._) + + SCENE--_The Front of the House. In the Boxes and Dress-circle + are friends and relations of the_ Author. _In the Stalls are a + couple of Stray Critics who leave early, actors and actresses + "resting" more friends and relations. In the Pit, the front + row is filled by the_ Author's _domestic servants, the + landladies of several of the performers, and a theatrical + charwoman or two, behind them a sprinkling of the general + public, whose time apparently hangs heavily on their hands. + In a Stage-box is the_ Author _herself, with a sycophantic_ + Companion. _A murky gloom pervades the Auditorium; a scratch + orchestra is playing a lame and tuneless Schottische for + the second time, to compensate for a little delay of fifteen + minutes between the first and second Tableaux in the Second + Act. The orchestra ceases, and a Checktaker at the Pit door + whistles "Ta-ra-ra-boom-de-ay!" Some restless spirits stamp + feebly._ + +[Illustration: "Sir, a roughly-dressed stranger ... requests a few +words."] + +_The Author._ I wish they would be a _little_ quicker. I've a good +mind to go behind myself and hurry them up. The audience are beginning +to get impatient. + +_Her Companion._ But that shows how _interested_ they are, _doesn't_ +it, dear? + +_Author._ I think it _ought_ to interest them, but I _did_ expect they +would have shown a little more enthusiasm over that situation in the +last _tableau_--they're rather a _cold_ audience! + +_Comp._ It's above their heads, dear, that's where it is--plays are +such rubbish nowadays, people don't appreciate a really _great_ drama +just at first. I do hope Mr. IRVING, Mr. HARE and Mr. BEERBOHM TREE +will come in--I'm sure they'll be only too _anxious_ to secure it! + +_Author._ I don't know that I should care for it to come out at the +Lyceum, but of course if the terms were very--oh, they're beginning +at last! I hope this light comedy scene will go well. (_Curtain +rises: Comic dialogue--nothing whatever to do with the plot--between a +Footman and a Matinée Maidservant in short sleeves, a lace tucker, and +a diamond necklace; depression of audience. Serious characters enter +and tell one another long and irrelevant stories, all about nothing. +When the auditor remarks,_ "Your story is indeed a sad one--but go +on," _a shudder goes through the house, which becomes a groan ten +minutes later when the listener says:_ "You have told me _your_ +history--now hear _mine_!" _He tells it; it proves, if possible, +duller and more irrelevant than the other man's. A love-scene follows, +characterised by all the sparkle and brilliancy of "Temperance +Champagne"; the House witnesses the fall of the Curtain with apathy._) + +_Author._ That love-scene was perfectly _ruined_ by the acting! She +_ought_ to have turned her head aside when he said, "Dash the teapot!" +but she never _did_, and he left out _all_ that about dreaming of her +when he was ill with measles in Mashonaland! I wish they wouldn't have +such long waits, though. We timed the piece at rehearsal, and, with +the cuts I made, it only played about four hours; but I'm afraid it +will take longer than that to-day. + +_Comp._ I don't care _how_ long it is--it's so _beautifully_ written! + +_Author._ Well, I put my whole _soul_ into it, you know; but it's not +till this next Act that I show my full power. [_Curtain rises on a +drawing-room, furnished with dingy wrecks from the property-room--the +home of_ JASPER, the Villain, _who is about to give an evening party. +Enter a hooded crone._ "Sir JASPER, I have a secret of importance, +which can only be revealed to your private ear!" (_Shivers of +apprehension amongst the audience._) _Sir J._ "Certainly, go +into yonder apartment, and await me there." (_Sigh of relief from +spectators_.) _A Footman._ "Sir, the guests wait!" _Sir J._ (_with +lordly ease_). "Bid them enter!" (_They troop in unannounced and +sit down against the wall, entertaining one another in dumb-show._) +_Footman_ (_re-entering_). "Sir, a roughly-dressed stranger, who says +he knew you in Norway, under an _alias_, requests a few words." _Sir +J._ "Confusion!--one of my former accomplices in crime--my guests +must not be present at this interview!" (_To Guests._) "Ladies and +Gentlemen, will you step into the adjoining room for a few minutes, +and examine my collection of war-weapons?" (_Guests retire, with +amiable anticipations of enjoyment. The Stranger enters, and tells +another long story._) "I smile still," he concludes--"but even a +_dead_ man's skull will smile. Allow me then the privileges of death!" +(_At this an irreverent Pittite suddenly guffaws, and the Audience +from that moment perceives that the piece possesses a humorous side. +The Stranger goes; the Guests return. Re-enter Footman_). "Sir, an +elderly man, who was acquainted with your family years ago, insists +on seeing you, and will take no denial!" _Villain_ (_with presence +of mind--to Guests._) "Ladies and Gentlemen, will you step into the +neighbouring apartment, and join the dancers?" (_The Guests obey. The_ +Elderly Man _enters, and denounces_ JASPER, _who mendaciously declares +that he is his own second cousin_ JOSEPH; _whereupon the visitor +turns down his coat-collar, and takes off a false beard._) "Do you +know me now, JASPER SHOPPUN?" he cries. "_I_ am JOSEPH--your second +cousin!"... "What, ho, Sir Insolence!" the Villain retorts. "And so +you come to deliver me to Justice?"... "Not so," says JOSEPH. "Long +years ago I swore to my dying Aunt to protect your reputation, even +at the expense of my own. I come to warn you that"--&c., &c. (_The +Audience, who are now in excellent spirits, receive every incident +with uncontrollable merriment till the end of the Act. Another long +wait, enlivened by a piccolo solo._) + +_Author._ LAVINIA, it's _too_ disgraceful--it's a deliberate +conspiracy to turn the piece into ridicule. I never thought my _own +relations_ would turn against me--and yet I might have known! + +_Comp._ It wasn't the _play_ they laughed at, dear--that's lovely--but +it's so ridiculously _acted_, you know! + +_Author._ Of course the acting _is_ abominable--but they might make +allowances for _that_. It _is_ so unfair! [_The Play proceeds. The +Heroine's jealousy has been excited by the Villain, for vague purposes +of his own, and the Hero is trying to disarm her suspicions._ _She._ +"But why are you constantly going from Paris to London at the beck +and call of that man?" _He_ (_aside_). "If she only knew that I do it +to shield my second cousin, JASPER--but my oath!--I cannot tell her! +(_To her._) The reason is very simple, darling--he is my Private +Secretary!" (_Roars of inextinguishable laughter, drowning the Wife's +expressions of perfect satisfaction and confidence. The Hero wants to +go out; the Wife begs him to stay; she has 'a presentiment of evil--a +dread of something unseen, unknown.' He goes: the Villain enters in +evening dress._) _Villain._ "Your husband is false to you. Meet me +in half an hour at the lonely hut by the cross-roads, and you shall +have proof of his guilt." (_The Wife departs at once, just as she is. +Villain, soliloquising._) "So--my diabolical schemes prosper. I have +got JOSEPH out of the way by stratagem, decoyed his wife--my early +love--to a lonely hut, where my minions wait to seize her. Now to +abduct the child, destroy the certificate of vaccination which alone +stands between me and a Peerage, set fire to the home of my ancestors, +accuse JOSEPH of all my crimes, and take my seat in the House of +Lords as the Earl of Addelegg! Ha-ha--a good night's work! a good--" +_Joseph_ (_from back_). "Not so. I have heard all. I will _not_ have +it. You _shall_ not!" (_&c., &c._) _Villain._ "You would thwart my +schemes?" _Joseph_ (_firmly_). "I would. My wife and child shall +_not_--" (_&c., &c._) _Villain_ (_slowly_). "And the oath you swore +to my Mother, your dying Aunt, would you break that?" _Joseph_ +(_overcome_). "My oath! my Aunt! Ah, no, I cannot, I _must_ not break +it. JASPER SHOPPUN, I am powerless--you must do your evil will!" (_He +sinks on a settee: Triumph of Villain, tableau, and Curtain._) + +_Author._ I wouldn't have _believed_ that a modern audience would +treat heroic conduct like that as if it was _laughable_. It's enough +to make one give up play-writing altogether! + +_Comp._ Oh, I wouldn't do _that_, dear. You mustn't punish Posterity! +[_The Play goes on and on; the Villain removes inconveniently +repentant tools, and saddles the Hero with his nefarious deeds. The +Hero is arrested, but reappears, at liberty, in the next Act (about +the Ninth), and no reference whatever is made to the past. Old serious +characters turn up again, and are welcomed with uproarious delight. +At the end of a conversation, lasting a quarter of an hour, the +Lady's-maid remarks that "her Mistress has been very ill, and must +not talk too much." Cheers from Audience. General joy when the Villain +returns a hopeless maniac. Curtain about six, and loud calls for +Author._) + +_Author._ Nothing will _induce_ me to take a call after the shameful +way they've behaved! And it's all the fault of the acting. When we +get home, I'll read the play all through to you again, and you'll see +now it _ought_ to have been done! A hundred and twenty pounds simply +thrown away! + + [_Retires, consoled by her_ Companion, _and the consciousness + that true genius is invariably unappreciated._ + + * * * * * + +ESSENCE OF PARLIAMENT. + +EXTRACTED FROM THE DIARY OF TOBY, M.P. + +_House of Commons, Monday, March 21._--Uneasy feeling spread through +House to-night consequent on question addressed by MACINNES to +UNDER-SECRETARY FOR FOREIGN AFFAIRS. Wants to know "whether his +attention has been called to the increase of drinking among Natives +in the Coast Towns?" CAUSTON particularly depressed. + +[Illustration: "Sir, I am not--"] + +[Illustration: "--an Agricultural Labourer."] + +"I sat for Colchester for five years, you know," he said, "and grew +into habit of regarding the Natives as my constituents. For five years +never swallowed one without thinking I was reducing the number on +the Register. Used to excuse myself on the ground that the particular +bivalve that had disappeared must have been a Conservative, or it +would never have been so stupid as to leave its comfortable bed to +embark on such a journey. My interest in the oyster is now secondary. +They don't flourish in Southwark; whelks more in our way down there. +Still one cannot forget old associations, and confess I'm rather +knocked over to hear this report MACINNES has brought up. Can't +imagine anything more distressing than the spectacle of a drunken +oyster--probably with dishevelled beard--coming home late at night and +trying to get into another Native's shell under impression that he has +recognised his own front door. Must see WILFRID LAWSON about this; get +up an Oyster Temperance Society; framed certificates, blue ribbon, and +all that, if the thing spreads, we shall have oysters emitting quite a +rum-punch flavour when we add the lemon." + +Gloom dissipated two hours later by appearance of BOBBY SPENCER at the +Table. BOBBY doesn't often witch the House with oratory. Content with +important though to outsiders obscure position he occupies in Party +administration. His is the hand that pulls the strings to which +Liberal Party dance. SCHNADHORST gets some credit, but everybody knows +BOBBY's the man. To see these two political strategists in conference +is sufficient to reassure the Liberal Party on the possible issues of +the General Election. + +SCHNADHORST complains that BOBBY has a trick, after addressing him +through the ear-trumpet he (S.) carries in reminiscence of JOSHUA +REYNOLDS, of putting his ear to the trumpet as if he expected the +answer to arrive through that medium. + +[Illustration: MR. JOSEPH CHAMBERLAIN ON "THE HUMOURS OF PARLIAMENT."] + +"Very embarrassing." SCHNADHORST says, "to have a fellow first putting +his mouth and then his ear to other end of your trumpet. Sometimes +I say to him, sharply, '_I_ don't speak through the trumpet.' 'Oh, +no, of course not,' he says, 'I beg your pardon,' and draws away. +Presently he's back again, politely, as I speak, applying his ear +to the trumpet. But it's only the absence of mind that arises from +preoccupation in matters of State." + +BOBBY, besides being the political director of the strategy of the +Liberal Party, is a County Member. It was in this last capacity +he appeared at Table to-night in Debate on Second Reading of Small +Holdings Bill. House received him with hearty cheer. No one more +popular than BOBBY. Delight uproariously manifested when, daintily +pulling at his abundant shirt-cuff, and settling his fair young +head more comfortably upon summit of his monumental collar, he +deprecatingly observed-- + +"Mr. SPEAKER, Sir, I am not an Agricultural Labourer." + +The speech a model of Parliamentary debating, full of point, resting +on sound argument, lucidly stated, and all over in five minutes. +_Business done._--Debate on Small Holdings Bill. + +_Tuesday_.--Morning Sitting. SEXTON at length worked off the speech +on Irish Education Bill, that has hung over House like cloud since +Bill was introduced in earliest days of Session. Wasn't in his place +the first night; so friends and colleagues wore out the sitting to +preserve his opportunity. When this next presented itself, SEXTON +thought the hour and condition of House unsuitable for person of his +consequence; declined to speak. To-day, his last chance, things worse +than ever. Benches empty, as usual at Morning Sitting. But now or +never, and at least there would be long report in Irish papers. So +went at it by the hour. Finished at a quarter to five. At Morning +Sitting, debate automatically suspended at ten minutes to seven; +two hours and five minutes for everyone else to speak. SINCLAIR long +waiting chance to thrust in his nose. Found it at last; but House +wearied and worn out; glad when seven o'clock approached, and Bill +read First Time. + +[Illustration: THE LEADER OF THE HOUSE--(VIDE THE OPPOSITION PRESS.)] + +At Evening Sitting, Lawyers had it all to themselves. ROBERTSON opened +Debate on Law of Conspiracy in admirable speech. Later came LOCKWOOD, +speaking disrespectfully of "B." Then SQUIRE OF MALWOOD, girding at +SOLICITOR-GENERAL; MATTHEWS followed, with plump assertion that Squire +had not been talking about the Resolution. Finally CHARLES RUSSELL, +with demonstration that "the Right Hon. Gentleman (meaning MATTHEWS) +had displayed a complete misconception of the character and objects of +the Resolution." Being thus demonstrated upon unimpeachable authority +that nobody knew anything about the Resolution, House proceeded +to vote upon it. For, 180; against, 226. Ministerialists cheered; +Opposition apparently equally delighted. So home I to bed, everyone +determined first thing in morning get hold of newspaper, and see what +the Resolution really was about. _Business done_.--Miscellaneous. + +_Wednesday_.--"I wonder," said SAGE OF QUEEN ANNE'S GATE, curiously +regarding CHAMBERLAIN discoursing on the Eight Hours Bill, "whom JOE +meant by his reference at Birmingham on Saturday night to 'the funny +man of the House of Commons,'--'A man who has a natural taste for +buffoonery, which he has cultivated with great art, who has a hatred +of every Government and all kinds of restraint, and especially, of +course, of the Government that happens to be in office.' Couldn't be +HENEAGE, and I don't suppose he had JESSE in his mind at the moment. +Pity a man can't make his points clearly. JOE used to be lucid enough. +But he's falling off now in that as in other matters. Made me rub my +eyes when I read his remarks about House of Lords, and remembered what +he used to say on subject when he and I ran together. Certainly JOE +is a man of courage. There are topics he might, with memory of past +speeches, easily avoid or circumnavigate. But he goes straight at +'em, whether fence or ditch, takes them at a stride regardless of +his former self, splashed with mud in the jump, or smitten with the +horse's hoof. Makes me quite sentimental when I sit and listen to him, +and recall days that are no more. _Mrs. Gummidge_ thinking of the +Old 'Un is nothing to me thinking of the Young 'Un who came up from +Birmingham in 1876, and who from '80 to '85 walked hand in hand with +me. + + We were patriots together.--Ah! placeman and peer + Are the patrons who smile on your labours to-day; + And Lords of the Treasury lustily cheer + Whatever you do and whatever you say. + Go, pocket, my JOSEPH, as much as you will, + The times are quite altered we very well know; + But will you not, will you not, talk to us still, + As you talked to us once long ago, long ago? + + We were patriots together!--I know you will think + Of the cobbler's caresses, the coalheaver's cries, + Of the stones that we throw, and the toasts that we drink + Of our pamphlets and pledges, our libels and lies! + When the truth shall awake, and the country and town + Be heartily weary of BALFOUR & CO., + My JOSEPH, hark back to the Radical frown, + Let us be what we were, long ago, long ago!" + +"Bless me," I cried, "how beautiful! I didn't know that, among your +many accomplishments, you were given to dropping into poetry." + +"Tut, tut!" said the SAGE, blushing, "it isn't all my own; written +years ago by MACKWORTH PRAED, about JOHN CAM HOBHOUSE. I've only +brought it up to date." + +_Business done_.--Eight Hours' Bill thrown out on a Division. + +_Thursday_.--Private O'GRADY, of the Welsh Fusiliers, the hero of the +hour. His annals short and simple. Got up early in the morning of St. +Patrick's Day; provided himself with handful of shamrock, which he +stuck in his glengarry. (_Note_.--O'GRADY, an Irishman, belongs to a +Welsh Regiment, and, to complete the pickle, wears a Scotch cap.) The +ignorant Saxon officer in command observing the patriot muster with +what he, all unconscious of St. Patrick's Day, thought was "a handful +of greens" in his cap, instructed the non-commissioned officer to +order him to take it out. + +"I won't do't," said gallant Private O'GRADY, the hot Celtic blood +swiftly brought to boiling pitch by this insult to St. Patrick. Irish +Members vociferously cheered when STANHOPE read the passage from +Colonel's report. Another non-commissioned officer advancing from the +rear, repeated order. + +"I won't do't!" roared the implacable Private O'GRADY. + +Once more the Irish Members burst into cheering, whilst a soldier +in uniform in Strangers' Gallery looked on and listened. Would like +to hear his account of scene confided to comrades in privacy of +barrack-room. + +When STANHOPE finished reading report of officer commanding battalion, +Irish Members leaped to their feet in body, each anxious to stand +shoulder to shoulder with Private O'GRADY defying the Saxon. NOLAN, +who had set ball rolling, might have got in first, but was so +excited as to be momentarily speechless; could only paw at the air in +direction of Treasury Bench where STANHOPE sat, PAT O'BRIEN, ARTHUR +O'CONNOR, the wily WEBB, and the flaccid FLYNN, all shouting together. +But SEXTON beat them all, and will duly figure in Parliamentary Report +as Vindicator of Nationality, Defender of St. Patrick, and Patron of +Private O'GRADY. + +"There's nothing new about Ireland," said POLTALLOCH, talking the +matter over later in the Lobby. "'Tis the most distressful country +that ever yet was seen, Where they punish T. O'GRADY For the wearing +of the Green." + +_Business done_.--Small Holdings Bill read Second Time. + +_Friday Night_.--House behaved nobly to-night; FENWICK brought forward +Motion proposing payment of Members. House arbiter of situation; might +have voted itself anything a year it pleased. Only say the word, and +JOKIM would have been bound to find the money. Members flocked down in +large numbers: CAMPBELL-BANNERMAN, seated on Front Opposition Bench, +declares he could distinctly hear smacking of lips of Hon. Members +below Gangway when FENWICK observed he thought £365 a year would be +reasonable allowance. However insidious temptation may have been, it +was nobly resisted. Of nearly 400 Members who took part in Division, +only 162 reached out their hand for the pittance, 227 lofty souls +going into other Lobby. + +_Business done_.--Private Bill Procedure Bill brought in. + + * * * * * + +[Illustration: "'SAFETY MATCHES' FOR LIFE.--The following notice has +been issued by the Salvation Army: 'Safety matches are now made by the +Social Wing without sulphur or phosphorus, which will flame without +striking. What do we mean? Just this. That if you are unmarried, and +do not know where to chose a partner, you can communicate with Colonel +BARKER, Matrimonial Bureau, 101, Queen Victoria Street, E.C., and +he will most probably supply you with just what you want--somebody +loveable and good.'"] + + * * * * * + +VERY ORCHID! + + ["The more I think about it, the more I am convinced that the + life of a Peer is not a happy one."--_Mr. Chamberlain, before + the Jewellers' and Silversmiths' Association at Birmingham_.] + + The Orchid is a thoughtful plant--it loves the lordly hot-house, + And naturally reprobates poor gilliflowers as "pot-house;" + 'Tis rich, exotic, somewhat miscellaneously florid; + The rough herbaceous annuals it vulgar deems, and horrid. + + With all that's forced and precious it should fraternise in reason, + With luscious fruits and rarest roots, and produce out of season; + It may perhaps at primroses a condescending hand point; + It might be friends with stocks--but from a pure commercial + standpoint. + + And yet--it is a thoughtful plant--though such a growth fastidious, + The proud but simple strawberry still seems to it invidious; + Those ducal leaves that shine and twine around the nation's garden, + It fancies more delectable than all the blooms of Hawarden. + + This orchid's bosom bleeds to feel that, while he flaunts in colour, + The chaplet of the strawberry should duller pine and duller, + That obsoleteness, though delayed, should still be on the _tapis_, + That, pending its extinction, its existence isn't happy. + + O courtly leaves of strawberries, old England's grace and glory, + Emblazoned o'er the castle-keeps that moulder nigh and hoary, + What comfort for your drooping days, what balm in dire dejection, + That yonder orchid spruce extends his shelter and protection. + + But, garland sere of Vere de Vere, wan ornaments of Fable, + The orchid is a thoughtful plant, and likes a gorgeous table; + And, should from out your coronals one berry bright be shining, + His patronage may snap it up--to save it from declining! + + * * * * * + +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. 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