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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/14544-0.txt b/14544-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..7a91989 --- /dev/null +++ b/14544-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,1372 @@ +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 14544 *** + +Note: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this + file which includes the original illustrations. + See 14544-h.htm or 14544-h.zip: + (https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/4/5/4/14544/14544-h/14544-h.htm) + or + (https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/4/5/4/14544/14544-h.zip) + + + + + +PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI + +VOL. 102 + +APRIL 30, 1892 + + + + + + + +MR. PUNCH'S HEBRIDEAN SALMON-FLY BOOK. + +STRANGE ADVENTURES OF A PEN-HOLDER. + + (By Wullie White, Author of "They Taught Her to Death" + "A Pauper in Tulle," "My Cloudy Glare," "Green Pasterns in + Picalilli," "Ran Fast to Royston," &c., &c., &c.) + +["I now send you," writes this popular and delightful Author, "the +latest of the Novels in which I mingle delicate sentiment with +Hebridean or Highland scenery, and bring the wisdom of a Londoner to +bear directly upon the unsophisticated innocence of a kilt-wearing +population. I am now republishing my books in a series. I'll take +short odds about my salmon-flies as compared with anyone else's, and +am prepared to back my sunsets and cloud-effects against the world. No +takers. I thought not. Here goes!"] + +CHAPTER I. + +[Illustration] + +I held it in my right hand, toying with it curiously, and not without +pleasure. It was merely a long, wooden pen-holder, inky and inert to +an unappreciative eye, but to me it was a bright magician, skilled +in the painting of glowing pictures, a traveller in many climes, a +tried and trusted friend, who had led me safely through many strange +adventures and much uncouth dialect. "Old friend," I said, addressing +it kindly, "shall you and I set out together on another journey? We +have seen many countries, and the faces of many men, and yet, though +we are advancing in years, the time has not yet come for me to lay +you down, as having no need of you. What say you--shall we start once +more?" I hear a confused sound as of men who murmur together, and +say, "We have supped full of horrors, and have waded chin-deep in +Zulu blood; we have followed the Clergy of the Established Church into +the recesses of terrible crimes, and have endured them as they bared +their too sensitive consciences to our gaze. We pine for simpler, and +more wholesome pleasures. Now," I continued, "if only Queen TITA and +the rest will help us, I think we can do something to satisfy this +clamour." For all answer, my pen-holder nestled lovingly in my hand. +I placed my patent sunset-nib in its mouth, waved it twice, dipped it +once, and began. + +CHAPTER II. + +The weary day was at length sinking peacefully to rest behind the +distant hills. The packed and tumbled clouds lay heavily towards the +West, where a gaunt jagged tower of rock rose sheer into the sky. +And lo! suddenly a broad shaft of blood-red light shot through the +brooding cumulus and rested gorgeously upon the landscape. On each +side of this a thin silvery veil of mist crept slowly up and hung in +impalpable folds. The Atlantic sand stretching away to the North shone +with the effulgence of burnished copper. And now brilliant flickers +of coloured light, saffron, purple, green and rose danced over the +heaven's startled face. The piled clouds opened and showed in the +interspace a lurid lake of blood tinged with the pale violet of an +Irishwoman's eyes. Great pillars of flame sprang up rebelliously and +spread over the burning horizon. Then a strange, soft, yellow and +vaporous light raised its twelve bore breech-loading ejector to its +shoulder and shot across the Cryanlaughin hills, and the cattle shone +red in the green pastures, and everything else glowed, and the whole +world burned with the bewildering glare of a stout publican's nose in +a London fog. And silence came down upon the everlasting hills whose +outlines gleamed in a prismatic-- + +"That will do," said a mysterious Voice, "the paint-box is exhausted!" + +CHAPTER III. + +I was shocked at this rude interruption. + +"Sir!" I said, "I cannot see you, though I hear your voice. Will you +not disclose yourself?" + +"Nonsense, man," said the aggravating, but invisible one, "do not +waste time. Let us get on with the story. You know what comes next. +_Revenons à nos saumons._ Ha, Ha! spare the rod and spoil the book!" + +I was vexed, but I had to obey, and this was the result: + +The pools were full of gleaming curves of silver, each one belonging +to a separate salmon of gigantic size fresh run from the sea. The +foaming Black Water tumbled headlong over its rocks and down its +narrow channel. DONALD, the big keeper, stood industriously upon the +bank arranging flies. "I hef been told," he observed, "tat ta English +will be coming to Styornoway, and there will be no more Gaelic spoken. +But perhaps it iss not true, for they will tell many lies. I am a +teffle of a liar myself." + +And lo! as we watched, the grey sky seemed to be split in two by an +invisible wedge, and a purple gleam of light shot-- + +"Stow that!" said the Voice, "I have allowed you to put in a patch of +Gaelic, but I really cannot let you do any more sun-pictures. Try and +think that it is a close time for landscapes, and don't let the light +shoot again for a bit." + +"All right," I retorted, not without annoyance, "but you'll just +have to make up your mind to lose that salmon. It was a magnificent +forty-pounder, and, if it hadn't been for your ridiculous +interruption, we should have landed him splendidly in another six +pages." + +"As you like," said the Voice. + +CHAPTER IV. + +And now our journey was drawing to a close. Out of the solemn hush +of the purple mountains we had passed slowly southwards back to the +roar and the turmoil of the London streets. And many friends had +said farewell to us. SHEILA with her low, sweet brow, her exquisitely +curved lips, and her soft blue eyes had held us enraptured, and we +had wept with COQUETTE, and fiercely cheered the WHAUP while he held +WATTIE by the heels, and made him say a sweer. And we had talked +with MACLEOD and grown mournful with Madcap VIOLET, and had seen many +another fresh and charming face, and had talked Gaelic with gusto and +discrimination. And Queen TITA had sped with us, and we had adored +BELLE, and yet we cried for more. But now the dream-journey was past, +and lo! suddenly the whole heaven was blazing with light, and a bright +saffron band lay across-- + +"Steady there!" said the Voice. "Remember your promise!" + +THE END. + + * * * * * + +SAINTS OR SINNERS? + +[BY SPECIAL WIRE.] + +MELBOURNE.--It is said, on good authority, that the favourite books of +the interesting prisoner now in custody are, the _Pilgrim's Progress_, +an Australian Summary of the _Newgate Calendar_, and the poetry of +the late Dr. Watts. He has also expressed himself as pleased with +Mrs. Humphrey Ward's latest work of fiction, though he does not quite +approve of the theological opinions of the writer. + +PARIS, _Tuesday_.--The supposed author of the dynamite outrages, is +the recipient of numerous presents in prison, sent him by male and +female admirers, and persons anxious for his conversion and his +autograph. The edition of _Thomas à Kempis_, recently given him, is a +most valuable antique copy; but he complains of the print as unsuited +to his eyesight. + +MELBOURNE. _Later_.--The Solicitor engaged on behalf of our +interesting prisoner has requested the Government to allow a +commission, consisting of the medical superintendents at Broadmore, +Hanwell and Colney Hatch, with six other English experts in insanity, +to come out to Australia to inquire into the mental condition of +the prisoner. A telegram has also been despatched to Lord SALISBURY +requesting that the LORD CHIEF JUSTICE OF ENGLAND and an Old Bailey +Jury may be sent out to try the case; otherwise there will be "no +chance of justice being done." The British PREMIER's reply has not yet +been received. It is believed that he is consulting Mr. GOSCHEN about +the probable cost of such a step. + +MELBOURNE. _Latest_.--Through the instrumentality of an Official +connected with the prison, I am enabled to send you some important +information concerning our prisoner which you may take as absolutely +authentic. His breakfast this morning consisted of buttered toast, +coffee, and poached eggs. He complained that the latter were not +new-laid, and became very excited. It has also transpired that he is +strangely in favour of Imperial Federation, and he has declared to his +gaolers that "The friendship between England and her Colonies ought +to be cemented." This expression of opinion has created a profound +sensation. + + * * * * * + +THE POINT OF VIEW. + +(_AS PRIVATE TOMMY ATKINS PUTS IT TO HIS COMRADE BILL._) + + [In the Report of Lord WANTAGE's Committee, it appears that + our Home Army costs seventeen and a-half millions per annum. + The Duke of CAMBRIDGE doubts if we could rapidly mobilise one + Army Corps. Sir EVELYN WOOD holds half the men under him at + Aldershot are not equal to doing a day's service, even in + England. The Duke of CONNAUGHT says half the battalions under + his command are no good for service, cannot even carry their + kits, and are not fit to march. Lord WOLSELEY, it is stated, + compares the British Army to a "squeezed lemon."] + + "Squeezed lemon!" _That's_ encouraging! + Wish Wolseley knew 'ow much it's pleased us. + I'd like to arsk _one_ little thing: + I wonder who it is who's squeezed us? + The whole Report's a thing to cheer; + Makes us feel proud and pleased, oh! very! + And won't the bloomin' furrineer + Over our horacles make merry? + + Costs seventeen millions and a arf, + And carn't go nowhere, nor do nothink! + That tots it up! They wouldn't charf, + Eh, BILL, these Big Wigs! What do _you_ think? + Therefore, we're just a useless lot. + After pipe-claying and stiff-starching, + We _might_ be good for stopping shot, + Only that we're not fit for marching! + + We cannot carry our own kits! + I say, Bill, _ain't_ we awful duffers? + Not furrin foes, or Frenchy wits, + Could more completely give us snuffers. + CAMBRIDGE, CONNAUGHT, Sir EVELYN WOOD, + All of a mind, for once, about us! + What wonder Bungs dub us no good, + And lackeys, snobs, and street-boys flout us? + + I see myself as others see; + A weedy, narrer-chested stripling, + Can't fight, can't march, can't 'ardly see! + And yet young Mister RUDYARD KIPLING + Don't picture hus as kiddies slack, + Wot can't go out without our nurses, + But ups and pats us on the back + In very pooty potry-verses.[1] + + We're much obliged to 'im, I'm sure, + (Though potry ain't my fav'rit reading,) + He's civil, kind and not cock-sure; + Good sense goes sometimes with good-breeding. + So Tommy's best respects to _'im_, + At Aldershot we'd like to treat 'im. + Though if he bobs in Evelyn's swim, + He _might_ not know us _when_ we meet 'im! + + But, Bill, if all this barney's _true_ + Consarnin' "Our Poor Little Army," + It must be nuts to Pollyvoo! + _He_ needn't feel a mite alarmy. + _Whose_ fault is it we cost a lot, + And, if war comes, _must_ fail, or fly it? + Well facts is facts, and bounce is rot; + But, blarm it, BILL,--_I'd like to try it!_ + + [Footnote 1: Mr. Kipling dedicates his "Barrack-Room Ballads" + to "TOMMY ATKINS" in these lines:-- + + I have made for you a song, + An' it may be right or wrong, + But only you can tell me if it's true; + I've tried for to explain. + Both your pleasure and your pain, + And, THOMAS, here's my best respects to you! + + Oh, there'll surely come a day + When they'll grant you all your pay + And treat you as a Christian ought to do; + So, until that day comes round, + Heaven keep you safe and sound, + And, Thomas, here's my best respects to you!] + + * * * * * + +[Illustration: THE STATE OF THE MARKET. + +_Artist_ (_to Customer, who has come to buy on behalf of a large +Furnishing Firm in Tottenham Court Road_). "HOW WOULD THIS SUIT YOU? +'SUMMER'!" + +_Customer._ "H'M--'SUMMER.' WELL, SIR, THE FACT IS WE FIND THERE'S +VERY LITTLE DEMAND FOR _GREEN_ GOODS JUST NOW. IF YOU HAD A LINE OF +_AUTUMN TINTS_ NOW--THAT'S THE ARTICLE WE FIND MOST SALE FOR AMONG OUR +CUSTOMERS!"] + + * * * * * + +ROBERT ON THE HARTISTIC COPPERASHUN. + +Oh, ain't the Copperashun jest a cummin out in the Hi Art line! Why, +dreckly as they let it be nown as they was a willin to make room +in their bewtifool Galery for any of the finest picters in the hole +country as peepel was wantin to send there, jest to let the world +no as they'd got 'em, and that they wos considered good enuff by the +LORD MARE and the Sherriffs and all the hole Court of Haldermen, than +they came a poring in in such kwantities, that pore Mr. WELSH, the +Souperintendant, was obligated to arsk all the hole Court of common +Counselmen, what on airth he was to do with 'em, and they told him to +hinsult the Libery Committee on the matter, and they, like the lerned +gents as they is, told him to take down sum of the werry biggest and +the most strikingest as they'd got of their hone Picters and ang 'em +up in the Gildhall Westybool, as they calls it, coz it's in the East, +I spose, and so make room for a lot of the littel uns as had been +sent to 'em, coz they was painted by "Old Marsters," tho' who "Old +Marsters" was, I, for one, never could make out, xcep that he must +have well deserved his Nickname, considering the number of picters as +he must ha' painted. And now cums won of the werry cleverest dodges +as even a Welsh Souperintendant of Gildhall picturs coud posserbly +have thort on. Why what does he do? but he has taken down out of the +Gallery, won of the werry biggest, and one of the werry grandest, +Picters of moddern times, and has hung it up in the Westybool +aforesaid, to take the whole shine out of all the little uns as so +many hemnent swells had been ony too glad to send to Gildhall--"the +paytron of the Harts," as I herd a hemnent Halderman call it,--to give +'em the reel stamp as fust rate. + +And now what does my thousands of readers suppose was the subjeck +of this werry grandest of all Picters? Why, no other than a most +magniffisent, splendid, gorgeus, large as life representashun of the +LORD MARE's Show, a cummin in all its full bewty and splender from the +middel of the Royal Xchange!! + +But ewen that isn't all. For the Painter of this trewly hartistic +Picter, determined to make his grand work as truthful as it is +striking, has lawished his hole sole, so to speak, upon what are +undoubtedly the most commanding figures in the hole glorious display, +and them is the LORD MARE's three Gentlemen! with their wands of +power, and their glorious Unyforms, not forgetting their luvly silk +stockins; on this occasion, too, spotless as the rising Sun! To say +that they are the hobservd of all hobservers, and the hadmirashun of +all the fare sex, and the henvy of the other wun, need not be said, +tho they do try to hide their gelesy with a sickly smile. + +Need I say that it is surrounded ewery day by a sercle of smiling +admirers, who, I have no doubt, come agane and agane, to show it to +their admiring friends; and, just to prove its grand success, the +werry last time as I was there, I owerheard a smiling gent say to his +friend,--"Well, TOM, as this is such a success, it would not supprise +me if the same hemnent Hartis was to paint the LORD MARE's Bankwet +next year, with all the Nobel Harmy of Waiters arranged in front!" +Wich Harmy will be pussinelly konduktid by your faithful + +ROBERT. + + * * * * * + +[Illustration: THE POINT OF VIEW. + +_Frenchman._ "WELL, MON AMI, YOUR SIR EVELYN VOLSELEY SAY YOU CAN GO +NOWHERES AND DO NOSING! YOU ARE A SKVEEZED LEMON!" + +_Tommy Atkins._ "WELL, HANG IT, YOU BLOOMING FURRINEERS HAVEN'T ALWAYS +FOUND IT SO!"] + + * * * * * + +TELEPHONIC THEATRE-GOERS. + +(_A SKETCH AT THE ELECTRICAL EXHIBITION._) + + SCENE--_The Exterior of the Telephone Music Room in the + Egyptian Vestibule. The time is about eight. A placard + announces, "Manchester Theatre now on"; inside the wickets a + small crowd is waiting for the door to be opened. A Cautious + Man comes up to the turnstile with the air of a fox examining + a trap._ + +_The Cautious Man_ (_to the Commissionnaire_). How long can I stay in +for sixpence? + +_The Commissionnaire_. Ten Minutes, Sir. + +_The C.M._ Only ten minutes, eh? But, look here, how do I know +there'll be anything going on while I'm _in_ there? + +_Comm._ You'll find out that from the instruments, Sir. + +_The C.M._ Ah, I daresay--but what _I_ mean is, suppose there's +nothing _to hear_--between the Acts and all that? + +_Comm._ Comp'ny guarantees there's a performance on while you're in +the room, Sir. + +[Illustration: "How very distinctly you hear the dialogue, Sir, don't +you?"] + +_The C.M._ Yes, but all these other people waiting to get in--How'm I +to know I shall get a _place_? + +_Comm._ (_outraged_). Look 'ere, Sir, we're the National Telephone +Comp'ny with a reputation to lose, and if you've any ideer we want to +swindle you, all I can tell _you_ is--stop outside! + +_The C.M._ (_suddenly subdued_). Oh--er--all right, thought I'd make +sure _first_, you know. Sixpence, isn't it? + + [_He passes into the enclosure, and joins the crowd._ + +_A Comic Man_ (_in an undertone to his Fiancée_). That's a careful +bloke, that is. Know the _value_ o' money, _he_ does. It'll have to +be a precious scientific sort o' telephone that takes _'im_ in. He'll +'ave _his_ six-pennorth, if it bursts the machine! Hullo, they're +letting us in now. + + [_The door is slightly opened from within, causing an + expectant movement in crowd--the door is closed again._ + +_A Superior Young Lady_ (_to her Admirer_). I just caught a glimpse +of the people inside. They were all sitting holding things like +opera-glasses up to their ears--they did look so ridiculous! + +_Her Admirer_. Well, it's about time they gave _us_ a chance of +looking ridiculous, their ten minutes must be up now. I've been trying +to think what this put me in mind of. _I_ know. Waiting outside the +Pit doors! doesn't it you? + +_The Sup. Y.L._ (_languidly, for the benefit of the bystanders_). Do +they make you wait like this for the Pit? + +_Her Admirer_. _Do they make you wait!_ Why, weren't you and I +three-quarters of an hour getting into the Adelphi the other evening? + +_The Sup. Y.L._ (_annoyed with him_). I don't see any necessity to +bawl it out like that if we _were_. + + [_The discreetly curtained windows are thrown back, revealing + persons inside reluctantly tearing themselves away from their + telephones. As the door opens, there is a frantic rush to get + places._ + +_An Attendant_ (_soothingly_). Don't crush, Ladies and +Gentlemen--plenty of room for all. Take your time! + + [_The crowd stream in, and pounce eagerly on chairs and + telephones; the usual Fussy Family waste precious minutes + in trying to get seats together, and get separated in the + end. Undecided persons flit from one side to another. + Gradually they all settle down, and stop their ears with + the telephone-tubes, the prevailing expression being one of + anxiety, combined with conscious and apologetic imbecility. + Nervous people catch the eye of complete strangers across the + table, and are seized with suppressed giggles. An Irritable + Person finds himself between the Comic Man and a Chatty + Old Gentleman. + +_The Comic Man_ (_to his Fiancée, putting the tube to his ear_). Can't +get _my_ telephone to tork yet! (_Shakes it._) _I'll_ wake 'em up! +(_Puts the other tube to his mouth._) Hallo--hallo! are you there? +Look alive with that Show o' yours, Guv'nor--we ain't got long to +stop! (_Pretends to listen, and reply._) If you give me any of your +cheek, I'll come down and punch your 'ead! (_Applies a tube to his +eye._) All right, POLLY, they've _begun_--I can see the 'ero's legs! + +_Polly_. Be quiet, can't you? I can't hold the tubes steady if you +will keep making me laugh so. (_Listening._) Oh, ALF, I can hear +singing--can't you? Isn't it lovely! + +_The Com. M._ It seems to me there's a bluebottle, or something, got +inside mine--I can 'ear _im_! + +_The Irr. P._ (_angrily, to himself_). How the deuce do they +expect--and that infernal organ in the nave has just started booming +again--they ought to send out and stop it! + +_The Chatty O.G._ (_touching his elbow_). I beg your pardon, Sir, but +can you inform me what opera it is they're performing at Manchester? +The _Prima Donna_ seems to be just finishing a song. Wonderful how one +can hear it all! + +_The Irr. P._ (_snapping_). Very wonderful indeed, under the +circumstances! (_He corks both ears with the tubes_). It's too +bad--now there's a confounded string-band beginning outs--(_Removes +the tube._) Eh, what? (_More angrily than ever._) Why, it's _in_ the +blanked thing! (_He fumbles with the tubes in trying to readjust them. +At last he succeeds, and, after listening intently, is rewarded by +hearing a muffled and ghostly voice, apparently from the bowels of the +earth, say_--"Ha, say you so? Then am I indeed the hooshiest hearsher +in the whole of Mumble-land!") + +_The Chatty O.G._ (_nudging him_). How very distinctly you hear the +dialogue, Sir, don't you? + + [_The Irritable Person, without removing the tubes, turns + and glares at him savagely, without producing the slightest + impression._ + +_Another Ghostly Voice_ (_very audibly_). The devil you are! + +_A Careful Mother_. MINNIE, put them down at _once_, do you hear? I +can't have you listening to such language. + +_Minnie_. Why, it's only at Manchester, Mother! + +_Ghostly Voices and Sounds_ (_as they reach the Irritable Person_). +"You cursed scoundrel! So it was _you_ who burstled the billiboom, was +it? Stand back, there, I'll hork every gordle in his--!" (_... Sounds +of a scuffle ... A loud female scream, and firing ..._) "What have you +done?" + +_The Ch. O.G._ Have you any sort of idea what he _has_ done, Sir? + + [_To the Irritable Person._ + +_The Irr. P._ No, Sir, and I'm not likely to have as long as-- + + [_He listens with fierce determination._ + +_First Ghostly Voice_. Stop! Hear me--I can explain everything! + +_Second Do. Do._ I will hear _nothing_, I tell you! + +_First Do. Do._ You shall--you _must_! Listen. I am the only surviving +mumble of your unshle groolier. + +_The Ch. O.G._ (_as before_). I think it must be a Melodrama and not +an Opera after all--from the language! + +_An Innocent Matron_ (_who is listening, with her eyes devoutly fixed +on the Libretto of "The Mountebanks," under the firm conviction that +she is in direct communication with the Lyric Theatre._) I always +understood _The Mountebanks_ was a _musical_ piece, my dear, didn't +you? and even as it is, they don't seem to keep very close to the +words, as far as I can follow! + +_Ghostly Voices_ (_in the Irritable Person's ear as before_). "Your +_wife_?" "Yes, my wife, and the only woman in the world I ever loved!" + +_The Irr. P._ (_pleased, to himself._) Come, now I'm getting +accustomed to it, I can hear capitally! + +_The Voices_. Then why have you--?...I will tell you all. Twenty-five +years ago, when a shinder foodle in the Borjeezlers I-- + +_A Still Small Voice_ (_in everybody's ear_). TIME, PLEASE. + +_Everybody_ (_dropping the tubes, startled._) Where did _that_ come +from? + +_The Com. M._ They've been and cut it off at the main--just when it +was getting interesting! + +_His Fiancée_. Well, I can't say I made out much of the plot myself. + +_The Com. M._ I made out enough to cover a sixpence, anyhow. You +didn't expect the telephone to explain it all to you goin' along, and +give you cawfee between the Acts, did you? + +_The Ch. O.G._ (_sidling affably up to the Irritable Person as he +is moving out_). Marvellous strides Science has made of late, Sir! +Almost incredible. I declare to _you_, while I was sitting there, I +positively felt inclined to ask myself the question-- + +_The Irr. P._ Allow me to say, Sir, that another time, if you will +obey that inclination, and put the question to yourself instead of +other people, you will be a more desirable neighbour in a Telephone +Room than, I confess I found you! + + [_He turns on his heel, indignantly._ + +_The Ch. O.G._ (_to himself_). 'Strordinary what unsociable people one +_does_ come across at times! Now I 'm always ready to talk to anybody, +I am--don't care _who_ they are. Well--well-- [_He walks on, musing._ + + * * * * * + +[Illustration: QUITE NATURAL. + +_Mamma._ "ETHEL DEAR, WHY WON'T YOU SAY GOOD-BYE TO THIS GENTLEMAN? HE +IS VERY KIND!" + +_Ethel._ "BECAUSE, MUMMY DEAR, YOU TOLD HIM JUST NOW HE IS 'THE LION +OF THE SEASON,'--AND I AM SO FRIGHTENED!"] + + * * * * * + +"DE PROFUNDIS." + +(_BY AN INDIGNANT "OUTSIDER."_) + + A masterpiece, worthy of TURNER, + Was mine, there my friends all agree, + No work of a pot-boiling learner, + My "_View on the Dee_." + + A place on the line I expected, + Associate shortly to be! + Hang me, if it isn't rejected, + And marked with a D! + + I will not repeat what I uttered + When this was reported to me; + The mere monosyllable muttered + Begins with a D. + + * * * * * + +ON THE (POST) CARDS. + + ["Sir JAMES FERGUSSON does not hesitate to declare his opinion + that rudeness or incivility on the part of a Post-Office + servant is, next to dishonesty, one of the worst offences + he can commit. This notice is not addressed to men alone. + Of the young women employed by the department, there are, he + says, some, if not many, whom it is impossible to acquit of + inattention and levity in the discharge of their official + duties. It is Sir JAMES FERGUSSON's intention to ascertain, at + short intervals, the effect of this notice on the behaviour of + Post-Office officials generally."--_Daily Paper_.] + + SCENE--_Interior of a Post Office. Female Employees engaged + in congenial pursuits._ + +_First Emp._ (_ending story_). And so she never got the bouquet, after +all, and he went to Margate, without even saying good-bye. + +_Second Emp._ (_her Friend_). Well, that was hard upon her! + +_First Member of the Public_ (_entering briskly and putting coppers on +the counter_). Now then, three penny stamps, please! + +_First Emp._ (_to her Friend_). Yes, as you say, it _was_ hard, as of +course the matter of the pic-nic was no affair of hers. + +_Second Emp._ (_sympathetically_). Of course not! They are all alike, +my dear!--all alike! + +_First Mem. of the Pub._ (_impatiently_). Now then, three penny stamps +please! + +_First Emp._ Well, you are in a hurry! (_To her Friend_). And from +that day to this she has never heard from him. + +_Second Emp._ And it would have been so easy to drop her a postcard +from Herne Bay. + +_First Mem. of the Pub._ Am I to be kept waiting all day? Three penny +postage-stamps, please. + +_First Emp._ (_leisurely_). What do you want? + +_First Mem. of the Pub._ (_angrily_). Three penny postage-stamps, and +look sharp about it! + +_First Emp._ (_giving stamp_). Threepence. + +_First Mem. of the Pub._ (_furious_). A threepenny stamp! I want three +penny stamps. Three stamps costing a penny each. See? + +_First Emp._ (_with calm unconcern_). Then why didn't you say so +before? (_Supplies stamps and turns to Friend._) Then MARIA of course +wanted to go to Birchington. + +_Second Emp._ Why Birchington? Why did she want to go to Birchington? + +_First Emp._ Well--_he_ of course was at Herne Bay. + +_Second Emp._ Ah, now I begin to understand her artfulness. + +_First Emp._ Ah, there you are right, my dear! She _was_ artful! + + [_Enter Second Member of the Public, covered up in cloaks and + only showing the tip of his nose._ + +_Second Mem. of the Pub._ (_in a feeble voice_). Can you tell me, +please, when the Mail starts for India? + +_First Emp._ Well, the sea air _is_ the sea air. And that reminds me, +what do you think of this tobacco-pouch for-- + +_Second Emp._ (_archly_). For I know who! Why, you have got his +initials in forget-me-nots! + +_First Emp._ I think them so pretty, and they are very easy to do. + +_Second Mem. of the Pub._ (_in a rather louder voice_). Can you tell +me, please, when the Mail starts for India? + +_Second Emp._ I must say, dear, you have the most perfect taste. +Well, he will be ungrateful if he isn't charmed with them! Absolutely +charmed! + +_Second Mem, of the Pub._ (_louder still_). Will you be so good as to +say when the Mail starts for India? + +_First Emp._ Oh, you _are_ in a hurry! (_To Friend._) Yes, I took +a lot of trouble in getting the gold beads. There is only one place +where you can get them. They don't sell them at the Stores. + +_Second Mem. of the Pub._ (_in a loud tone of voice_). Again I ask you +when the Mail leaves for India? + +_Second Emp._ And yet you can get almost anything you want there. Only +it's a terrible nuisance going from one place to another. + +_Second Mem. of the Pub._ (_in a voice of thunder_). Silence! You are +an impudent set! You are calculated to injure the class to whom you +belong! I am ashamed of you! + +_First Emp._ And who may you be? + +_Second Mem. of the Pub._ Whom may I be? I will tell you! (_Throws off +his disguise_.) I am the Postmaster-General!!! + + [_Scene closes in upon a tableau suggestive of astonishment, + contrition and excitement._ + + * * * * * + +ITS LATEST APPLICATION.--Chorus for Royal Academicians, for Monday +next:--"Ta-R.A.-R.A.-Boom-to-day!" + + * * * * * + +[Illustration: HISTORY EXAMS. + +(_Effects on Education of Modern Advertising._) + +"WHO WAS BORN IN CORSICA?" (_Silence._) "TRY AND THINK--AND DIED IN +ST. HELENA?" + +"OH, OF COURSE--I KNOW! THE GREAT SAPOLIO!"] + + * * * * * + +TO THE NEW "QUEEN OF THE MAY". + +(A HYMN OF HONEST LABOUR.) + +_After the Proclamation of the Anarchist Manifestoes, (With Apologies +to the Author of the magnificent "Hymn to Proserpine.")_ + + ["For the third time the International mobilises its + battalions.... Already the mere mention of the magical word + 'May-Day' throws the _bourgeoisie_ into a state of nervous + trembling, and its cowardice only finds refuge in cynicism and + ferocity. But whether the wretch (the _bourgeoisie_) likes + it or not, the end draws nigh. Capitalist robbery is going + to perish in mud and shame.... The conscious proletariat + organises itself, and marches towards its emancipation. + You can have it all your own way presently; proletarians + of the whole world, serfs of the factory, the men of the + workshop, the office, and the shop, who are mercilessly + exploited and pitilessly assassinated.... For, lo! '93 + reappears on the horizon.... 'Vive l'Internationale + des Travailleurs!'"--_Manifesto of the May-Day Labour + Demonstration Executive Committee_.] + + Have we lived long enough to have seen one thing, that hate hath + no end? + Goddess, and maiden, and queen, must we hail _you_ as Labour's + true friend?-- + Will you give us a prosperous morrow, and comfort the millions who + weep? + Will you give them joy for their sorrow, sweet labour, and + satisfied sleep? + Sweet is the fragrance of flowers, and soft are the wings of the + dove, + And no goodlier gift is there given than the dower of brotherly + love; + But you, O May-Day Medusa, whose glance makes the heart turn cold, + Art a bitter Goddess to follow, a terrible Queen to behold. + We are sick of spouting--the words burn deep and chafe: we are fain, + To rest a little from clap-trap, and probe the wild promise of gain. + For new gods we know not of are acclaimed by all babbledom's breath, + And they promise us love-inspired life--by the red road of hatred + and death. + The gods, dethroned and deceased, cast forth--so the chatterers + say-- + Are banished with Flora and Pan, and behold our new Queen of the + May! + New Queen, fresh crowned in the city, flower-drest, her + snake-sceptre a rod, + Her orb a decked dynamite bomb, which shall shatter all earth at + her nod; + But for us their newest device seems barren, and did they but dare + To bare the new Queen of the May, were she angel or demon _when_ + bare? + + Time and old gods are at strife; we dwell in the midst thereof, + And they are but foolish who curse, and they are but shallow who + scoff. + Let hate die out, take rest, poor workers, be all at peace; + Let the angry battle abate, and the barren bitterness cease! + Ah, pleasant and pastoral picture! Thrice welcome whoever shall + bring + The sunshine of love after Winter, the blossoms of joy with the + Spring! + Wilt THOU bring it, O new May Queen? If thou canst, come and rule + us, and take + The laurel, the palm, and the pæan; all bondage but thine we would + break, + And welcome the branch and the dove. But we look, and we hold our + breath, + That is not the visage of Love, and beneath the piled blossoms + lurks--Death! + + A Society all of Love and of Brotherhood! Beautiful dream! + But alas for this Promise of May! Do not Labour's Floralia seem + As flower-feasts fair to her followers? Look on the wreaths at her + feet, + Flung by enthusiast hands from the mine, and the mill, and the + street, + Piled flower-offerings, thine, Proletariat Queen of the May! + And what means the new Bona Dea? and what would her suppliants say? + Organised strength, solidarity, power to band and to strike, + Hope that is native to Spring,--and Hate, in all seasons alike; + Mutual trust of the many--and menace malign for the few. + Citizen, capitalist,--ah! the hours of _your_ empire seem few, + An empire ill-gendered, unjust, blindly selfish, and heartlessly + strong + For the crushing of famishing weakness, the rearing of + wealth-founded wrong. + Few, if these throngs have their will, for the fierce proletariat + throbs + For revenge on the full-fed _Bourgeoisie_ which ruthlessly harries + and robs. + 'Tis fired with alarms, and it arms with hot haste for the + imminent fray, + For it quakes at the tramp of King Mob, and the thought of this + Queen of the May. + The bandit of Capital falls, and shall perish in shame and in filth! + The harvest of Labour's at hand!--The harvest; but red is the + And the reapers are wrathful and rash, and the swift-wielded + sickle that strives + For the sheaves, not the gleaners' scant ears, seems agog for the + reaping of--lives! + Assassins of Capital? Aye! And their weakening force will ye mee + With assassins of Labour? Shall Brotherhood redden the field and + the street? + Beware of the bad black old lesson! Behold, and look close, and + beware! + There are flowers at your newly-built shrine, is the evil old + serpent not there? + +[Illustration: THE NEW "QUEEN OF THE MAY."] + + The sword-edge and snake-bite, though hidden in blossoms, are + hatred's old arms. + And what is your May Queen at heart, oh, true hearts, that succumb + to her charms? + Dropped and deep in the blossoms, with eyes that flicker like fir + The asp of Murder lies hid, which with poison shall feed your + desire. + More than these things will she give, who looks fairer than all + these things? + Not while her sceptre's a snake, and her orb the red horror that + rings + Devilish, foul, round the world; while the hiss and the roar are + the voice + Of this monstrous new Queen of the May, in whose rule you would + bid us rejoice. + + * * * * * + +MR. PUNCH'S UP-TO-DATE POETRY FOR CHILDREN. + +NO. II.--"LITTLE JACK HORNER." + +[Illustration] + + LITTLE JACK HORNER, + He sat in the corner, + And cried for his "Mummy!" and "Nuss!" + For, while eating his cake, + He had got by mistake + In a horrid piratical 'bus. + + Now, some ten minutes back, + You'd have seen little JACK + From an Aërated Bread Shop emerge, + And proceed down the Strand-- + Slice of cake in his hand-- + In a crumb-covered suit of blue serge. + + To be perfectly frank, + He was bound for the Bank, + For it chanced to be dividend day, + And he jumped on the 'bus, + After reasoning thus-- + In his logical juvenile way:-- + + "Here's a 'bus passing by, + And I cannot see why + I should weary my infantile feet; + I've a copper to spare, + And the authorised fare + Is a penny to Liverpool Street." + + As the 'bus cantered on, + Little cake-eating JOHN + In the corner contentedly sat, + And with that one and this + (Whether Mister or Miss) + Had a meteorological chat. + + Came a bolt from the blue + When, collecting his due, + The conductor remarked, "Though I thank + That young cake-eating gent + For the penny he's sent, + It's a _tuppenny_ ride to the Bank!" + + "You're a pirate!" sobbed JACK, + "And your colours are black!" + But he heard--as he struggled to speak-- + The conductor observe, + With remarkable verve, + That he didn't want none of his cheek! + + With a want of regard, + He demanded JACK's card. + And young HORNER was summoned next day, + When the poor little lad + Lost the battle, and had + All the costs in addition to pay. + + Now the Moral is this: + Little Master and Miss, + Whom I'm writing these verses to please; + If your tiny feet ache, + Then a 'bus you may take, + _But be sure it's an L.G.O.C.'s!_ + + * * * * * + +A CURSORY OBSERVATION. + +From the _Figaro_ for Dimanche, April 17, we make this extract:-- + + "SPORTS ATHLÉTIQUES.--Le match international de foot ball + entre le Stade Français et le Rosslyn Park foot ball Club de + Londres sera joué demain sur le terrain du Cursing Club de + France à Levallois. L'équipe anglaise est arrivée à Paris hier + soir. Le match sera présidé par le marquis de Dufferin." + +"The Cursing Club!" What an awful name! For what purpose are they +banded together? Is it to curse one another by their gods? to issue +forth on _premières_ to damn a new play? What fearful language would +be just audible, curses, not loud but deep, during the progress of +the Foot-ball Match over which the Marquis of DUFFERIN is to preside! +It is all over by now; but the result we have not seen. We hope there +is no Cursing Club in England. There existed, once upon a time, in +London, a Club with an awful Tartarian name, which might have been a +parent society to a Cursing Club. Let us trust-- + + [*** The Editor puts short the article at this point, being + of opinion that "Cursing" is only a misprint for "Coursing;" + or, if not, he certainly gives _Le Figaro_ the benefit of the + doubt. Note, also, that the match was to be played on "Cursing + Club Ground," lent for the occasion, and was not to be played + by Members of the "C.C."] + + * * * * * + +THE LAY OF THE LITERARY AUTOLYCUS. + +(_SEE CORRESPONDENCE IN THE TIMES ON "LITERARY THEFTS."_) + +_Enter AUTOLYCUS, singing._ + + When books and magazines appear, + With heigh! the hopes of a big sale!-- + Why, then comes in the cheat o' the year, + And picks their plums, talk, song, or tale. + + The white sheets come, each page my "perk," + With heigh! sweet bards, O how they sing!-- + With paste and scissors I set to work; + Shall a stolen song cost anything? + + The Poet tirra-lirra chants, + With heigh! with heigh! he _must_ be a J.-- + His Summer songs supply my wants; + They cost me nought--but, ah! they _pay_. + +I have served Literature in my time, but now Literature is in _my_ +service. + + But shall I pay for what comes dear, + To the pale scribes who write,-- + For news, and jokes, and stories queer? + Walker! my friends, not quite! + Since filchers may have leave to live, + And vend their "borrowed" budget, + For all my "notions" nix I'll give, + Then sell them as I trudge it. + +My traffic is (news) sheets. My father named me AUTOLYCUS, who, +being as I am, littered under Mercury, was likewise a snapper-up +of unconsidered trifles. With paste and scissors I procured this +caparison; and my revenue is the uninquiring public; gallows and gaol +are too powerful on the highway; picking and treadmilling are terrors +to burglars; but in _my_ line of theft I sleep free from the thought +of them. A prize! a prize!... + + Jog on, jog on, the foot-pad way, + In the modern Sikes's style-a: + Punctilious fools prefer to _pay_; + But I at scruples smile-a. + +... Ha, ha! what a fool Honesty is! and Trust, his sworn brother, a +very simple gentleman ... I understand the business, do it; to have an +open ear, a quick eye, and a nimble hand with the shears is necessary +for a (literary) cutpurse; a good nose is requisite also, to smell out +the good work of other people. I see this is the time that the unjust +man doth thrive. + + * * * * * + +THE WELLINGTON MONUMENT. + +[Illustration] + + At last! How long ago the time + When England's paltry meanness killed + Her greatest Sculptor in his prime. + And hid his work, now called sublime, + In narrow space so nearly filled! + + When, using Art beyond her taste, + Her greatest Captain's tomb he wrought, + That noblest effort was disgraced,-- + It seemed to her a needless waste, + The Budget Surplus was her thought. + + Now may she, with some sense of shame, + Amend the errors of the past, + Show honour to the Great Duke's name, + Repair the wrong to STEPHENS' fame, + And move the Monument at last! + + * * * * * + +"KNOW ALL MEN BY THESE PRESENTS." + +It is believed that the Rossendale Union of Liberal Clubs, having +given a pair of slippers, a rug, and two pieces of cretonne to Mr. +GLADSTONE, will also make the following presents, in due course:-- + +_Sir W. L-ws-n._--Twelve dozen Tea-cosies, and ten yards of blue +Ribbon. + +_Mr. L-b-ch-re._--A Jester's cap. + +_Sir W.V. H-rc-rt._--A Spencer, without arms, but emblazoned with +those of the Plantagenets. + +_Mr. M-cl-re._--A Hood. + +_Mr. McN-ll._--A knitted Respirator, to be worn in the House. + +_Lord R. Ch-rch-ll._--Twelve dozen table-cloths, twenty-four dozen +Dinner-napkins, and thirty-six dozen Pudding-cloths. + +_Sir E. Cl-rke._--A scarlet Jersey, inscribed "Salvation Army." + +_Mr. R. Sp-nc-r._--A Smock Frock. + +_Mr. B-lf-r._--Some Collars of Irish linen, and one of hemp, the +latter to be supplied by the Irish patriots in America. + +_Mr. E. St-nh-pe._--A Necktie of green poplin, embroidered with +shamrocks. + +_Mr. M. H-ly._--An Ulster. + +_Col. S-nd-rs-n._--A Cork jacket. + +_Mr. W. O'Br-n._--A pair of Tr----rs, in fancy cretonne. + +_Sir G.O. Tr-v-ly-n._--A Coat (reversible). + +_Mr. C. C-nyb-re._--A Waistcoat (strait). + + * * * * * + +[Illustration: "UNDERSTOOD." + +"I SAY, DUBOIS, YOU _DO_ KNOW HOW TO LAY IT ON THICK, OLD MAN! I +LIKE YOUR CHEEK TELLING MISS BROWN SHE SPOKE FRENCH WITHOUT THE LEAST +ACCENT!" + +"VY, CERTAINEMENT, MON AMI--VIZOUT ZE LEAST _FRENCH_ ACCENT!"] + + * * * * * + +"THE (SOLDIERS') LIFE WE LIVE." + +(_Imaginary Evidence that should be added to the Report of Lord +Wantage's Committee._) + +_Chairman._ I think your name is RICHARD REDMOND? + +_Witness._ I beg pardon, my Lord and Gentlemen--DICK REDMOND--simple, +gushing, explosive DICK. + +_Chair._ Have you been known by any other name? + +_Wit._ Off duty, my Lord, I have been called CHARLES WARNER. Nay, +why should I not confess it?--CHARLIE WARNER. Yes, my Lord, CHARLIE +WARNER! + +_Chair._ You wish to describe how you were enlisted? + +_Wit._ Yes, my Lord. It was in this way. I had returned from +some races in a dog-cart with a villain. We stopped at a wayside +public-house kept by a comic Irishman. + +_Chair._ Are these details necessary? + +_Wit._ Hear me, my Lord; hear me! I confess it, I took too much to +drink. Yes, my Lord, I was drunk! And then a Sergeant in the Dragoon +Guards gave me a shilling, and placed some ribands in my pot-hat, +and--well--I was a soldier! Yes, a soldier! And as a soldier was +refused permission to visit my dying mother! + +_Chair._ Were there no other legal formalities in connection with +your enlistment? For instance--Were you not taken before an attesting +Magistrate? + +_Wit._ No, my Lord, no! I was carried off protesting, while my +villanous friend disappeared with my sweetheart! It was cruel, my Lord +and Gentlemen! It was very cruel! + +_Chair._ Did you desert? + +_Wit._ I did, my Lord--after I had obtained a uniform fitting closely +to the figure; but it was only that I might obtain the blessing of my +mother! And when I returned home the soldiers followed me--and might +have killed me! + +_Chair._ How was that? + +_Wit._ When I had taken refuge in a haystack, they prodded the +haystack with their swords! And this is life in the Army! + +_Chair._ Were you arrested on discovery? + +_Wit._ No; they spared me that indignity! They saw, my Lord, that my +mother was dying, and respectfully fell back while I assisted the old +Lady to pass away peacefully. But then, after all, they were men. In +spite of their red patrol jackets, brass helmets, and no spurs, they +were men, my Lord,--men! And, as soldiers, after I had broken from +prison, and was accused of murder, they again released me, because +some one promised to buy my discharge! + +_Chair._ And where are you quartered? + +_Wit._ At the Royal Princess's Theatre, Oxford Street, where I have +these strange experiences of discipline, and where I am enlisted in +the unconventional, not to say illegal, way I have described, nightly; +nay, sometimes twice daily! + +_Chair._ And why have you proffered your evidence? + +_Wit._ Because I think the Public ought to know, my Lord, the great +services afforded by the most recent Melodrama to the popularity of +the Army, and--yes, the cause of recruiting! + + [_The Witness then withdrew._ + + * * * * * + +HOW THEY BRING THE GOOD NEWS! + + All the papers teeming + With, the news of DEEMING + On the shore or ship; + Telling of his tearing + Hair that he was wearing + From his upper lip. + + (T-SS-D, rush! Pursue it! + Buy it, bring it, glue it + On your model! Quick!) + Telling how he's looking, + How he likes the cooking,-- + Bah, it makes one sick! + + Telling of his bearing, + How the crowds are staring, + What may be his fate, + Just what clothes he wore the + Days he came before the + Local Magistrate. + + And, verbatim printed + All he's said or hinted + As to any deeds; + Such a chance as this is + Not a paper misses! + Everybody reads! + + Would they give such latest + News of best and greatest + Folks? What's that you say? + Who would read of virtue, + Or such news insert? You + Know it would not pay. + + So, demand creating + Such supply, they're stating + All that they can tell; + Spite of School-Board teaching, + Culture, science, preaching, + This is sure to sell. + + * * * * * + +[Illustration: THE END OF THE SEASON. AU REVOIR!] + + * * * * * + +[Illustration: STAIRCASE SCENES.--NO. 1. PRIVATE VIEW, ROYAL ACADEMY.] + + * * * * * + +THE YOUNG GIRL'S COMPANION. + +(_BY MRS. PAYLEY,_) + +II.--DINING-OUT. + +I can quite understand that a young girl may not care much for the +mere material dinner. The palate is a pleasure of maturity. The +woman of fifty probably includes a menu or two among her most sacred +memories; but the young girl is capable of dining on part of a cutlet, +any pink sweetmeat, and some tea. But I must confess that I was +surprised at another objection to dining-out that a young girl, only +at the end of her second season, once made to me. She said that she +positively could not stand any longer the conversation of the average +young man of Society. I asked her why, and she then asserted that this +sort of young man confined himself to flat badinage and personal brag, +which he was mistaken in believing to be veiled. What she said was, +of course, perfectly true. Civilisation is responsible for the flat +badinage, for civilisation requires that conversation shall be light +and amusing, but can provide no remedy for slow wits; on the other +hand, the personal brag is a relic of the original man. The badinage +is the young man's defect in art; the brag is his defect in nature. +But I fail to see any objection to such conversation; on the contrary, +it is charming because it _is_ so average; you know beforehand just +what you will hear and just what you will say, and everything is +consequently made easy. The man puts on that kind of talk just as +he puts on his dress-coat; both are part of the evening uniform. The +motto of the perfect young man of Society is "I resemble." I pointed +all this out to the young girl in question, and she retorted that +it was a pity that silence was a lost art. However, she continued to +dine-out and to take her part in the only possible conversation, and +after all Society rather encourages theoretical rebellion, provided +that it is accompanied by practical submission. + +[Illustration] + +From the point of view of sentiment, a dinner has less potentialities +than a dance; but the dinner may begin what the dance will end; you +set light to the fuse in the dining-room, and the explosion takes +place six weeks afterwards in someone-else's conservatory. Nothing +much can be done on the staircase; but, if you can decently pretend +that you have heard of the young man who is taking you in, he will +probably like it. If, after a few minutes, you decide that it is +worth while to interest the young man, discourage his flat badinage, +and encourage his personal brag. The only thing in which it is quite +certain that every man will be interested is, the interest someone +else takes in him. Later on, he will probably be induced to illustrate +the topic of conversation by telling you (if it would not bore you) +of a little incident which happened to himself. The incident will be +prettily coloured for dinner-table use, and he will make the story +prove a merit in himself, which he will take care to disclaim vainly. +When he has finished, look very meditatively at your plate, as if you +saw visions in it, and then turn on him suddenly with wide eyes--with +the right kind of eyelashes, this is effective. + +"I suppose you don't know it, Mr. BLANK," you tell him, "but really I +can't help saying it. You behaved splendidly--splendidly!" + +Droop the eyelashes quickly, and become meditative again. He will +deprecate your compliment a little incoherently. + +"Not at all, not at all--Miss--er--ASTERISK--I really--assure +you--nothing more than any--er--other man would have done. Some +other people at the time told me"--(_laughs nervously_)--"very +much--er--what you have just said, but--er--personally, +I--really--could never see it, or of course I wouldn't have mentioned +it to you." + +Your rejoinder will depend a good deal on how far you mean to go, and +how much of that kind of thing you think you can stand. If you like, +you can drop your handkerchief or your glove when you rise; it will +please him to pick it up for you, and he will feel, for a moment, as +if he had saved your life. + +If you do not want to please the man, but only to show your own +superiority, it may perhaps be as well to remember that women are +better than men, as a rule, in flat badinage. Men talk best when they +are by themselves, but they are liable to be painfully natural at such +times. I had some little difficulty in finding this out, but I thought +it my duty to know, and--well, I _do_ know. + +The correspondence that I have received has not been altogether +pleasant. I have had one letter from ETHEL (aged thirteen) saying that +she thinks me a mean sneak for prying into other people's Diaries. +I can only reply that I was acting for the public good. I have had +a sweet letter, however, from "AZALEA." She has been absolutely +compelled, by force of circumstances, to allow the distinct attentions +of three different men. She does not give the names of the men, only +descriptions, but I should advise her to keep the dark one. She can +see the will at Somerset House. "JANE" writes to ask what is the best +cure for freckles. I do not answer questions of that kind. I have +replied to my other correspondents privately. + + * * * * * + +REPULSING THE AMAZONS. + +(_SEE CARTOON, "ARMING THE AMAZONS," DEC. 5, 1891._) + +[Illustration] + + Arming the Amazons against the Greeks? + That PRIAM SALISBURY tried some few short weeks + Before the present fray. FAWCETTA fair + Had prayed; the question then seemed "in the air," + And PRIAM proffered then the Franchise-spear, + (A shadowy one, that gave no grounds for fear,) + To poor PENTHESILEA. + Now, ah, now + ROLLITTUS moves, there's going to be a row, + And lo! the mingled ranks of Greece and Troy + Close 'gainst the Amazons. Her steed, a toy, + A hobby-horse, that any maid may mount, + Is not--just now--of any great account. + Her phantom spear will pierce no stout male mail; + But should ROLLITTUS _not_--(confound him!)--fail, + A female host, well armed, and _not_ on hobbies, + Might prove as dangerous as a batch of Bobbies. + The fair FAWCETTA then must be thrown over; + PENTHESILEA finds no hero-lover + In either host. PRIAM, abroad, is dumb. + Ah, maiden-hosts, man's love for you's a hum. + Each fears you--in the foeman's cohorts thrown, + But _neither side desires you in its own!_ + The false GLADSTONIUS first, he whom you nourish, + A snake in your spare bosoms, dares to flourish + Fresh arms against you; potent, though polite, + He fain would bow you out of the big fight, + Civilly shelve you. "Don't kick up a row, + And--spoil my game! Another day, not now, + There's a _dear_ creature!" CHAMBERLAINIUS, too, + Hard as a nail, and squirmy as a screw, + Sides with the elder hero, just for once; + CHAPLINIUS also, active for the nonce + On the Greek side, makes up the Traitrous Three, + One from each faction! Ah! 'tis sad to see + PENTHESILEA, fierce male foes unite + In keeping female warriors from the fight; + Yet think, look round, and--you _may_ find they're right! + + * * * * * + +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 14544 *** diff --git a/14544-h/14544-h.htm b/14544-h/14544-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..ac7ba20 --- /dev/null +++ b/14544-h/14544-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,2120 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Transitional//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-transitional.dtd"> +<html> +<head> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=UTF-8" /> +<title>The Project Gutenberg eBook of Punch, or the London Charivari, Vol. 102, April 30, 1892, by Various</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;} + + .drama {margin-bottom: 1em; text-align: left;} + .drama p {margin: 1em 0em 0em 0em;; padding-left: 2em; text-indent: -2em;} + .drama p.i2 {margin: 0; margin-left: 1em;} + .drama p.i4 {margin: 0; margin-left: 2em;} + .drama p.i6 {margin: 0; margin-left: 3em;} + .drama p.i8 {margin: 0; margin-left: 4em;} + .drama p.i10 {margin: 0; 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;} + a:link {color:blue; + text-decoration:none} + link {color:blue; + text-decoration:none} + a:visited {color:blue; + text-decoration:none} + a:hover {color:red} + --> + /*]]>*/ + </style> +</head> +<body> +<div>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 14544 ***</div> +<h1>The Project Gutenberg eBook, Punch, or the London Charivari, Vol. 102, +April 30, 1892, by Various, Edited by F. C. Burnand</h1> +<hr class="full" /> + <h1>PUNCH,<br /> + OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.</h1> + + <h2>Vol. 102.</h2> + <hr class="full" /> + + <h2>April 30, 1892.</h2> + <hr class="full" /> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page205" + id="page205"></a>[pg 205]</span> + + <h2>MR. PUNCH'S HEBRIDEAN SALMON-FLY BOOK.</h2> + + <h3>STRANGE ADVENTURES OF A PEN-HOLDER.</h3> + + <blockquote> + <p>(<i>By Wullie White, Author of "They Taught Her to + Death" "A Pauper in Tulle," "My Cloudy Glare," "Green + Pasterns in Picalilli," "Ran Fast to Royston," &c., + &c., &c.</i>)</p> + </blockquote> + + <p>["I now send you," writes this popular and delightful + Author, "the latest of the Novels in which I mingle delicate + sentiment with Hebridean or Highland scenery, and bring the + wisdom of a Londoner to bear directly upon the unsophisticated + innocence of a kilt-wearing population. I am now republishing + my books in a series. I'll take short odds about my + salmon-flies as compared with anyone else's, and am prepared to + back my sunsets and cloud-effects against the world. No takers. + I thought not. Here goes!"]</p> + + <h4>CHAPTER I.</h4> + + <div class="figright" + style="width:50%;"> + <a href="images/205.png"><img width="100%" + src="images/205.png" + alt="" /></a> + </div> + + <p>I held it in my right hand, toying with it curiously, and + not without pleasure. It was merely a long, wooden pen-holder, + inky and inert to an unappreciative eye, but to me it was a + bright magician, skilled in the painting of glowing pictures, a + traveller in many climes, a tried and trusted friend, who had + led me safely through many strange adventures and much uncouth + dialect. "Old friend," I said, addressing it kindly, "shall you + and I set out together on another journey? We have seen many + countries, and the faces of many men, and yet, though we are + advancing in years, the time has not yet come for me to lay you + down, as having no need of you. What say you—shall we + start once more?" I hear a confused sound as of men who murmur + together, and say, "We have supped full of horrors, and have + waded chin-deep in Zulu blood; we have followed the Clergy of + the Established Church into the recesses of terrible crimes, + and have endured them as they bared their too sensitive + consciences to our gaze. We pine for simpler, and more + wholesome pleasures. Now," I continued, "if only Queen TITA and + the rest will help us, I think we can do something to satisfy + this clamour." For all answer, my pen-holder nestled lovingly + in my hand. I placed my patent sunset-nib in its mouth, waved + it twice, dipped it once, and began.</p> + + <h4>CHAPTER II.</h4> + + <p>The weary day was at length sinking peacefully to rest + behind the distant hills. The packed and tumbled clouds lay + heavily towards the West, where a gaunt jagged tower of rock + rose sheer into the sky. And lo! suddenly a broad shaft of + blood-red light shot through the brooding cumulus and rested + gorgeously upon the landscape. On each side of this a thin + silvery veil of mist crept slowly up and hung in impalpable + folds. The Atlantic sand stretching away to the North shone + with the effulgence of burnished copper. And now brilliant + flickers of coloured light, saffron, purple, green and rose + danced over the heaven's startled face. The piled clouds opened + and showed in the interspace a lurid lake of blood tinged with + the pale violet of an Irishwoman's eyes. Great pillars of flame + sprang up rebelliously and spread over the burning horizon. + Then a strange, soft, yellow and vaporous light raised its + twelve bore breech-loading ejector to its shoulder and shot + across the Cryanlaughin hills, and the cattle shone red in the + green pastures, and everything else glowed, and the whole world + burned with the bewildering glare of a stout publican's nose in + a London fog. And silence came down upon the everlasting hills + whose outlines gleamed in a prismatic—</p> + + <p>"That will do," said a mysterious Voice, "the paint-box is + exhausted!"</p> + + <h4>CHAPTER III.</h4> + + <p>I was shocked at this rude interruption.</p> + + <p>"Sir!" I said, "I cannot see you, though I hear your voice. + Will you not disclose yourself?"</p> + + <p>"Nonsense, man," said the aggravating, but invisible one, + "do not waste time. Let us get on with the story. You know what + comes next. <i>Revenons à nos saumons.</i> Ha, Ha! spare the + rod and spoil the book!"</p> + + <p>I was vexed, but I had to obey, and this was the result:</p> + + <p>The pools were full of gleaming curves of silver, each one + belonging to a separate salmon of gigantic size fresh run from + the sea. The foaming Black Water tumbled headlong over its + rocks and down its narrow channel. DONALD, the big keeper, + stood industriously upon the bank arranging flies. "I hef been + told," he observed, "tat ta English will be coming to + Styornoway, and there will be no more Gaelic spoken. But + perhaps it iss not true, for they will tell many lies. I am a + teffle of a liar myself."</p> + + <p>And lo! as we watched, the grey sky seemed to be split in + two by an invisible wedge, and a purple gleam of light + shot—</p> + + <p>"Stow that!" said the Voice, "I have allowed you to put in a + patch of Gaelic, but I really cannot let you do any more + sun-pictures. Try and think that it is a close time for + landscapes, and don't let the light shoot again for a bit."</p> + + <p>"All right," I retorted, not without annoyance, "but you'll + just have to make up your mind to lose that salmon. It was a + magnificent forty-pounder, and, if it hadn't been for your + ridiculous interruption, we should have landed him splendidly + in another six pages."</p> + + <p>"As you like," said the Voice.</p> + + <h4>CHAPTER IV.</h4> + + <p>And now our journey was drawing to a close. Out of the + solemn hush of the purple mountains we had passed slowly + southwards back to the roar and the turmoil of the London + streets. And many friends had said farewell to us. SHEILA with + her low, sweet brow, her exquisitely curved lips, and her soft + blue eyes had held us enraptured, and we had wept with + COQUETTE, and fiercely cheered the WHAUP while he held WATTIE + by the heels, and made him say a sweer. And we had talked with + MACLEOD and grown mournful with Madcap VIOLET, and had seen + many another fresh and charming face, and had talked Gaelic + with gusto and discrimination. And Queen TITA had sped with us, + and we had adored BELLE, and yet we cried for more. But now the + dream-journey was past, and lo! suddenly the whole heaven was + blazing with light, and a bright saffron band lay + across—</p> + + <p>"Steady there!" said the Voice. "Remember your promise!"</p> + + <center> + THE END. + </center> + <hr /> + + <h3>SAINTS OR SINNERS?</h3> + + <h4>[BY SPECIAL WIRE.]</h4> + + <p>MELBOURNE.—It is said, on good authority, that the + favourite books of the interesting prisoner now in custody are, + the <i>Pilgrim's Progress</i>, an Australian Summary of the + <i>Newgate Calendar</i>, and the poetry of the late Dr. Watts. + He has also expressed himself as pleased with Mrs. Humphrey + Ward's latest work of fiction, though he does not quite approve + of the theological opinions of the writer.</p> + + <p>PARIS, <i>Tuesday</i>.—The supposed author of the + dynamite outrages, is the recipient of numerous presents in + prison, sent him by male and female admirers, and persons + anxious for his conversion and his autograph. The edition of + <i>Thomas à Kempis</i>, recently given him, is a most valuable + antique copy; but he complains of the print as unsuited to his + eyesight.</p> + + <p>MELBOURNE. <i>Later</i>.—The Solicitor engaged on + behalf of our interesting prisoner has requested the Government + to allow a commission, consisting of the medical + superintendents at Broadmore, Hanwell and Colney Hatch, with + six other English experts in insanity, to come out to Australia + to inquire into the mental condition of the prisoner. A + telegram has also been despatched to Lord SALISBURY requesting + that the LORD CHIEF JUSTICE OF ENGLAND and an Old Bailey Jury + may be sent out to try the case; otherwise there will be "no + chance of justice being done." The British PREMIER's reply has + not yet been received. It is believed that he is consulting Mr. + GOSCHEN about the probable cost of such a step.</p> + + <p>MELBOURNE. <i>Latest</i>.—Through the instrumentality + of an Official connected with the prison, I am enabled to send + you some important information concerning our prisoner which + you may take as absolutely authentic. His breakfast this + morning consisted of buttered toast, coffee, and poached eggs. + He complained that the latter were not new-laid, and became + very excited. It has also transpired that he is strangely in + favour of Imperial Federation, and he has declared to his + gaolers that "The friendship between England and her Colonies + ought to be cemented." This expression of opinion has created a + profound sensation.</p> + <hr /> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page206" + id="page206"></a>[pg 206]</span> + + <h2>THE POINT OF VIEW.</h2> + + <h4>(<i>As Private Tommy Atkins puts it to his Comrade + Bill.</i>)</h4> + + <blockquote class="note"> + <p>[In the Report of Lord WANTAGE's Committee, it appears + that our Home Army costs seventeen and a-half millions per + annum. The Duke of CAMBRIDGE doubts if we could rapidly + mobilise one Army Corps. Sir EVELYN WOOD holds half the men + under him at Aldershot are not equal to doing a day's + service, even in England. The Duke of CONNAUGHT says half + the battalions under his command are no good for service, + cannot even carry their kits, and are not fit to march. + Lord WOLSELEY, it is stated, compares the British Army to a + "squeezed lemon."]</p> + </blockquote> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>"Squeezed lemon!" <i>That's</i> encouraging!</p> + + <p class="i2">Wish Wolseley knew 'ow much it's pleased + us.</p> + + <p>I'd like to arsk <i>one</i> little thing:</p> + + <p class="i2">I wonder who it is who's squeezed us?</p> + + <p>The whole Report's a thing to cheer;</p> + + <p class="i2">Makes us feel proud and pleased, oh! + very!</p> + + <p>And won't the bloomin' furrineer</p> + + <p class="i2">Over our horacles make merry?</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Costs seventeen millions and a arf,</p> + + <p class="i2">And carn't go nowhere, nor do + nothink!</p> + + <p>That tots it up! They wouldn't charf,</p> + + <p class="i2">Eh, BILL, these Big Wigs! What do + <i>you</i> think?</p> + + <p>Therefore, we're just a useless lot.</p> + + <p class="i2">After pipe-claying and + stiff-starching,</p> + + <p>We <i>might</i> be good for stopping shot,</p> + + <p class="i2">Only that we're not fit for marching!</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>We cannot carry our own kits!</p> + + <p class="i2">I say, Bill, <i>ain't</i> we awful + duffers?</p> + + <p>Not furrin foes, or Frenchy wits,</p> + + <p class="i2">Could more completely give us + snuffers.</p> + + <p>CAMBRIDGE, CONNAUGHT, Sir EVELYN WOOD,</p> + + <p class="i2">All of a mind, for once, about us!</p> + + <p>What wonder Bungs dub us no good,</p> + + <p class="i2">And lackeys, snobs, and street-boys flout + us?</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>I see myself as others see;</p> + + <p class="i2">A weedy, narrer-chested stripling,</p> + + <p>Can't fight, can't march, can't 'ardly see!</p> + + <p class="i2">And yet young Mister RUDYARD KIPLING</p> + + <p>Don't picture hus as kiddies slack,</p> + + <p class="i2">Wot can't go out without our nurses,</p> + + <p>But ups and pats us on the back</p> + + <p class="i2">In very pooty + potry-verses.<a id="footnotetag1" + name="footnotetag1"></a><a href="#footnote1"><sup>1</sup></a></p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>We're much obliged to 'im, I'm sure,</p> + + <p class="i2">(Though potry ain't my fav'rit + reading,)</p> + + <p>He's civil, kind and not cock-sure;</p> + + <p class="i2">Good sense goes sometimes with + good-breeding.</p> + + <p>So Tommy's best respects to <i>'im</i>,</p> + + <p class="i2">At Aldershot we'd like to treat 'im.</p> + + <p>Though if he bobs in Evelyn's swim,</p> + + <p class="i2">He <i>might</i> not know us <i>when</i> + we meet 'im!</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>But, Bill, if all this barney's <i>true</i></p> + + <p class="i2">Consarnin' "Our Poor Little Army,"</p> + + <p>It must be nuts to Pollyvoo!</p> + + <p class="i2"><i>He</i> needn't feel a mite alarmy.</p> + + <p><i>Whose</i> fault is it we cost a lot,</p> + + <p class="i2">And, if war comes, <i>must</i> fail, or + fly it?</p> + + <p>Well facts is facts, and bounce is rot;</p> + + <p class="i2">But, blarm it, BILL,—<i>I'd like to + try it!</i></p> + </div> + </div> + + <blockquote class="footnote"> + <a id="footnote1" + name="footnote1"></a><b>Footnote 1:</b> + <a href="#footnotetag1">(return)</a> + + <p>Mr. Kipling dedicates his "Barrack-Room Ballads" to + "TOMMY ATKINS" in these lines:—</p> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p class="i2">I have made for you a song,</p> + + <p class="i2">An' it may be right or wrong,</p> + + <p>But only you can tell me if it's true;</p> + + <p class="i2">I've tried for to explain.</p> + + <p class="i2">Both your pleasure and your pain,</p> + + <p>And, THOMAS, here's my best respects to you!</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p class="i2">Oh, there'll surely come a day</p> + + <p class="i2">When they'll grant you all your + pay</p> + + <p>And treat you as a Christian ought to do;</p> + + <p class="i2">So, until that day comes round,</p> + + <p class="i2">Heaven keep you safe and sound,</p> + + <p>And, Thomas, here's my best respects to you!</p> + </div> + </div> + </blockquote> + <hr /> + + <div class="figcenter" + style="width:70%;"> + <a href="images/206.png"><img width="100%" + src="images/206.png" + alt="THE STATE OF THE MARKET." /></a> + + <h3>THE STATE OF THE MARKET.</h3> + + <p><i>Artist</i> (<i>to Customer, who has come to buy on + behalf of a large Furnishing Firm in Tottenham Court + Road</i>). "HOW WOULD THIS SUIT YOU? 'SUMMER'!"</p> + + <p><i>Customer.</i> "H'M—'SUMMER.' WELL, SIR, THE + FACT IS WE FIND THERE'S VERY LITTLE DEMAND FOR <i>GREEN</i> + GOODS JUST NOW. IF YOU HAD A LINE OF <i>AUTUMN TINTS</i> + NOW—THAT'S THE ARTICLE WE FIND MOST SALE FOR AMONG + OUR CUSTOMERS!"</p> + </div> + <hr /> + + <h3>ROBERT ON THE HARTISTIC COPPERASHUN.</h3> + + <p>Oh, ain't the Copperashun jest a cummin out in the Hi Art + line! Why, dreckly as they let it be nown as they was a willin + to make room in their bewtifool Galery for any of the finest + picters in the hole country as peepel was wantin to send there, + jest to let the world no as they'd got 'em, and that they wos + considered good enuff by the LORD MARE and the Sherriffs and + all the hole Court of Haldermen, than they came a poring in in + such kwantities, that pore Mr. WELSH, the Souperintendant, was + obligated to arsk all the hole Court of common Counselmen, what + on airth he was to do with 'em, and they told him to hinsult + the Libery Committee on the matter, and they, like the lerned + gents as they is, told him to take down sum of the werry + biggest and the most strikingest as they'd got of their hone + Picters and ang 'em up in the Gildhall Westybool, as they calls + it, coz it's in the East, I spose, and so make room for a lot + of the littel uns as had been sent to 'em, coz they was painted + by "Old Marsters," tho' who "Old Marsters" was, I, for one, + never could make out, xcep that he must have well deserved his + Nickname, considering the number of picters as he must ha' + painted. And now cums won of the + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page207" + id="page207"></a>[pg 207]</span> werry cleverest dodges as + even a Welsh Souperintendant of Gildhall picturs coud + posserbly have thort on. Why what does he do? but he has + taken down out of the Gallery, won of the werry biggest, and + one of the werry grandest, Picters of moddern times, and has + hung it up in the Westybool aforesaid, to take the whole + shine out of all the little uns as so many hemnent swells + had been ony too glad to send to Gildhall—"the paytron + of the Harts," as I herd a hemnent Halderman call + it,—to give 'em the reel stamp as fust rate.</p> + + <p>And now what does my thousands of readers suppose was the + subjeck of this werry grandest of all Picters? Why, no other + than a most magniffisent, splendid, gorgeus, large as life + representashun of the LORD MARE's Show, a cummin in all its + full bewty and splender from the middel of the Royal + Xchange!!</p> + + <p>But ewen that isn't all. For the Painter of this trewly + hartistic Picter, determined to make his grand work as truthful + as it is striking, has lawished his hole sole, so to speak, + upon what are undoubtedly the most commanding figures in the + hole glorious display, and them is the LORD MARE's three + Gentlemen! with their wands of power, and their glorious + Unyforms, not forgetting their luvly silk stockins; on this + occasion, too, spotless as the rising Sun! To say that they are + the hobservd of all hobservers, and the hadmirashun of all the + fare sex, and the henvy of the other wun, need not be said, tho + they do try to hide their gelesy with a sickly smile.</p> + + <p>Need I say that it is surrounded ewery day by a sercle of + smiling admirers, who, I have no doubt, come agane and agane, + to show it to their admiring friends; and, just to prove its + grand success, the werry last time as I was there, I owerheard + a smiling gent say to his friend,—"Well, TOM, as this is + such a success, it would not supprise me if the same hemnent + Hartis was to paint the LORD MARE's Bankwet next year, with all + the Nobel Harmy of Waiters arranged in front!" Wich Harmy will + be pussinelly konduktid by your faithful</p> + + <p class="author">ROBERT.</p> + <hr /> + + <div class="figcenter" + style="width:100%;"> + <a href="images/207.png"><img width="100%" + src="images/207.png" + alt="THE POINT OF VIEW." /></a> + + <h3>THE POINT OF VIEW.</h3> + + <p><i>Frenchman.</i> "WELL, MON AMI, YOUR SIR EVELYN + VOLSELEY SAY YOU CAN GO NOWHERES AND DO NOSING! YOU ARE A + SKVEEZED LEMON!"</p> + + <p><i>Tommy Atkins.</i> "WELL, HANG IT, YOU BLOOMING + FURRINEERS HAVEN'T ALWAYS FOUND IT SO!"</p> + </div> + <hr /> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page208" + id="page208"></a>[pg 208]</span> + + <h2>TELEPHONIC THEATRE-GOERS.</h2> + + <h4>(<i>A Sketch at the Electrical Exhibition.</i>)</h4> + + <blockquote> + <p>SCENE—<i>The Exterior of the Telephone Music Room + in the Egyptian Vestibule. The time is about eight. A + placard announces, "Manchester Theatre now on"; inside the + wickets a small crowd is waiting for the door to be opened. + A</i> Cautious Man <i>comes up to the turnstile with the + air of a fox examining a trap.</i></p> + </blockquote> + + <div class="drama"> + <p><i>The Cautious Man</i> (<i>to the</i> Commissionnaire). + How long can I stay in for sixpence?</p> + + <p><i>The Commissionnaire</i>. Ten Minutes, Sir.</p> + + <p><i>The C.M.</i> Only ten minutes, eh? But, look here, + how do I know there'll be anything going on while I'm + <i>in</i> there?</p> + + <p><i>Comm.</i> You'll find out that from the instruments, + Sir.</p> + + <p><i>The C.M.</i> Ah, I daresay—but what <i>I</i> + mean is, suppose there's nothing <i>to + hear</i>—between the Acts and all that?</p> + + <p><i>Comm.</i> Comp'ny guarantees there's a performance on + while you're in the room, Sir.</p> + + <div class="figright" + style="width:65%;"> + <a href="images/208.png"><img width="100%" + src="images/208.png" + alt="'How very distinctly you hear the dialogue, Sir, don't you?'" /> + </a>"How very distinctly you hear the dialogue, Sir, + don't you?" + </div> + + <p><i>The C.M.</i> Yes, but all these other people waiting + to get in—How'm I to know I shall get a + <i>place</i>?</p> + + <p><i>Comm.</i> (<i>outraged</i>). Look 'ere, Sir, we're + the National Telephone Comp'ny with a reputation to lose, + and if you've any ideer we want to swindle you, all I can + tell <i>you</i> is—stop outside!</p> + + <p><i>The C.M.</i> (<i>suddenly subdued</i>). + Oh—er—all right, thought I'd make sure + <i>first</i>, you know. Sixpence, isn't it?</p> + + <blockquote> + <p>[<i>He passes into the enclosure, and joins the + crowd.</i></p> + </blockquote> + + <p><i>A Comic Man</i> (<i>in an undertone to his + Fiancée</i>). That's a careful bloke, that is. Know the + <i>value</i> o' money, <i>he</i> does. It'll have to be a + precious scientific sort o' telephone that takes <i>'im</i> + in. He'll 'ave <i>his</i> six-pennorth, if it bursts the + machine! Hullo, they're letting us in now.</p> + + <blockquote> + <p>[<i>The door is slightly opened from within, causing + an expectant movement in crowd—the door is closed + again.</i></p> + </blockquote> + + <p><i>A Superior Young Lady</i> (<i>to her</i> Admirer). I + just caught a glimpse of the people inside. They were all + sitting holding things like opera-glasses up to their + ears—they did look so ridiculous!</p> + + <p><i>Her Admirer</i>. Well, it's about time they gave + <i>us</i> a chance of looking ridiculous, their ten minutes + must be up now. I've been trying to think what this put me + in mind of. <i>I</i> know. Waiting outside the Pit doors! + doesn't it you?</p> + + <p><i>The Sup. Y.L.</i> (<i>languidly, for the benefit of + the bystanders</i>). Do they make you wait like this for + the Pit?</p> + + <p><i>Her Admirer</i>. <i>Do they make you wait!</i> Why, + weren't you and I three-quarters of an hour getting into + the Adelphi the other evening?</p> + + <p><i>The Sup. Y.L.</i> (<i>annoyed with him</i>). I don't + see any necessity to bawl it out like that if we + <i>were</i>.</p> + + <blockquote> + <p>[<i>The discreetly curtained windows are thrown + back, revealing persons inside reluctantly tearing + themselves away from their telephones. As the door + opens, there is a frantic rush to get places.</i></p> + </blockquote> + + <p><i>An Attendant</i> (<i>soothingly</i>). Don't crush, + Ladies and Gentlemen—plenty of room for all. Take + your time!</p> + + <blockquote> + <p>[<i>The crowd stream in, and pounce eagerly on + chairs and telephones; the usual</i> Fussy Family + <i>waste precious minutes in trying to get seats + together, and get separated in the end. Undecided + persons flit from one side to another. Gradually they + all settle down, and stop their ears with the + telephone-tubes, the prevailing expression being one of + anxiety, combined with conscious and apologetic + imbecility. Nervous people catch the eye of complete + strangers across the table, and are seized with + suppressed giggles. An</i> Irritable Person <i>finds + himself between the</i> Comic Man <i>and a</i> Chatty + Old Gentleman.</p> + </blockquote> + + <p><i>The Comic Man</i> (<i>to his Fiancée, putting the + tube to his ear</i>). Can't get <i>my</i> telephone to tork + yet! (<i>Shakes it.</i>) <i>I'll</i> wake 'em up! (<i>Puts + the other tube to his mouth.</i>) Hallo—hallo! are + you there? Look alive with that Show o' yours, + Guv'nor—we ain't got long to stop! (<i>Pretends to + listen, and reply.</i>) If you give me any of your cheek, + I'll come down and punch your 'ead! (<i>Applies a tube to + his eye.</i>) All right, POLLY, they've + <i>begun</i>—I can see the 'ero's legs!</p> + + <p><i>Polly</i>. Be quiet, can't you? I can't hold the + tubes steady if you will keep making me laugh so. + (<i>Listening.</i>) Oh, ALF, I can hear singing—can't + you? Isn't it lovely!</p> + + <p><i>The Com. M.</i> It seems to me there's a bluebottle, + or something, got inside mine—I can 'ear + <i>im</i>!</p> + + <p><i>The Irr. P.</i> (<i>angrily, to himself</i>). How the + deuce do they expect—and that infernal organ in the + nave has just started booming again—they ought to + send out and stop it!</p> + + <p><i>The Chatty O.G.</i> (<i>touching his elbow</i>). I + beg your pardon, Sir, but can you inform me what opera it + is they're performing at Manchester? The <i>Prima Donna</i> + seems to be just finishing a song. Wonderful how one can + hear it all!</p> + + <p><i>The Irr. P.</i> (<i>snapping</i>). Very wonderful + indeed, under the circumstances! (<i>He corks both ears + with the tubes</i>). It's too bad—now there's a + confounded string-band beginning outs—(<i>Removes the + tube.</i>) Eh, what? (<i>More angrily than ever.</i>) Why, + it's <i>in</i> the blanked thing! (<i>He fumbles with the + tubes in trying to readjust them. At last he succeeds, and, + after listening intently, is rewarded by hearing a muffled + and ghostly voice, apparently from the bowels of the earth, + say</i>—"Ha, say you so? Then am I indeed the + hooshiest hearsher in the whole of Mumble-land!")</p> + + <p><i>The Chatty O.G.</i> (<i>nudging him</i>). How very + distinctly you hear the dialogue, Sir, don't you?</p> + + <blockquote> + <p>[<i>The</i> Irritable Person, <i>without removing + the tubes, turns and glares at him savagely, without + producing the slightest impression.</i></p> + </blockquote> + + <p><i>Another Ghostly Voice</i> (<i>very audibly</i>). The + devil you are!</p> + + <p><i>A Careful Mother.</i> MINNIE, put them down at + <i>once</i>, do you hear? I can't have you listening to + such language.</p> + + <p><i>Minnie</i>. Why, it's only at Manchester, Mother!</p> + + <p><i>Ghostly Voices and Sounds</i> (<i>as they reach + the</i> Irritable Person). "You cursed scoundrel! So it was + <i>you</i> who burstled the billiboom, was it? Stand back, + there, I'll hork every gordle in his—!" (<i>... + Sounds of a scuffle ... A loud female scream, and firing + ...</i>) "What have you done?"</p> + + <p><i>The Ch. O.G.</i> Have you any sort of idea what he + <i>has</i> done, Sir?</p> + + <blockquote> + <p>[<i>To the</i> Irritable Person.</p> + </blockquote> + + <p><i>The Irr. P.</i> No, Sir, and I'm not likely to have + as long as—</p> + + <blockquote> + <p>[<i>He listens with fierce determination.</i></p> + </blockquote> + + <p><i>First Ghostly Voice.</i> Stop! Hear me—I can + explain everything!</p> + + <p><i>Second Do. Do.</i> I will hear <i>nothing</i>, I tell + you!</p> + + <p><i>First Do. Do.</i> You shall—you <i>must</i>! + Listen. I am the only surviving mumble of your unshle + groolier.</p> + + <p><i>The Ch. O.G.</i> (<i>as before</i>). I think it must + be a Melodrama and not an Opera after all—from the + language!</p> + + <p><i>An Innocent Matron</i> (<i>who is listening, with her + eyes devoutly fixed on the Libretto of "The Mountebanks," + under the firm conviction that she is in direct + communication with the Lyric Theatre.</i>) I always + understood <i>The Mountebanks</i> was a <i>musical</i> + piece, my dear, didn't you? and even as it is, they don't + seem to keep very close to the words, as far as I can + follow!</p> + + <p><i>Ghostly Voices</i> (<i>in the</i> Irritable Person's + <i>ear as before</i>). "Your <i>wife</i>?" "Yes, my wife, + and the only woman in the world I ever loved!"</p> + + <p><i>The Irr. P.</i> (<i>pleased, to himself.</i>) Come, + now I'm getting accustomed to it, I can hear capitally!</p> + + <p><i>The Voices</i>. Then why have you—?...I will + tell you all. Twenty-five years ago, when a shinder foodle + in the Borjeezlers I—</p> + + <p><i>A Still Small Voice</i> (<i>in everybody's ear</i>). + <small>TIME, PLEASE.</small></p> + + <p><i>Everybody</i> (<i>dropping the tubes, startled.</i>) + Where did <i>that</i> come from?</p> + + <p><i>The Com. M.</i> They've been and cut it off at the + main—just when it was getting interesting!</p> + + <p><i>His Fiancée.</i> Well, I can't say I made out much of + the plot myself.</p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page209" + id="page209"></a>[pg 209]</span> + + <p><i>The Com. M.</i> I made out enough to cover a + sixpence, anyhow. You didn't expect the telephone to + explain it all to you goin' along, and give you cawfee + between the Acts, did you?</p> + + <p><i>The Ch. O.G.</i> (<i>sidling affably up to the</i> + Irritable Person <i>as he is moving out</i>). Marvellous + strides Science has made of late, Sir! Almost incredible. I + declare to <i>you</i>, while I was sitting there, I + positively felt inclined to ask myself the + question—</p> + + <p><i>The Irr. P.</i> Allow me to say, Sir, that another + time, if you will obey that inclination, and put the + question to yourself instead of other people, you will be a + more desirable neighbour in a Telephone Room than, I + confess I found you!</p> + + <blockquote> + <p>[<i>He turns on his heel, indignantly.</i></p> + </blockquote> + + <p><i>The Ch. O.G.</i> (<i>to himself</i>). 'Strordinary + what unsociable people one <i>does</i> come across at + times! Now I 'm always ready to talk to anybody, I + am—don't care <i>who</i> they are. + Well—well— [<i>He walks on, musing.</i></p> + </div> + <hr /> + + <div class="figcenter" + style="width:67%;"> + <a href="images/209.png"><img width="100%" + src="images/209.png" + alt="QUITE NATURAL." /></a> + + <h3>QUITE NATURAL.</h3> + + <p><i>Mamma.</i> "ETHEL DEAR, WHY WON'T YOU SAY GOOD-BYE TO + THIS GENTLEMAN? HE IS VERY KIND!"</p> + + <p><i>Ethel.</i> "BECAUSE, MUMMY DEAR, YOU TOLD HIM JUST + NOW HE IS 'THE LION OF THE SEASON,'—AND I AM SO + FRIGHTENED!"</p> + </div> + <hr /> + + <h3>"DE PROFUNDIS."</h3> + + <h4>(<i>By an Indignant "Outsider."</i>)</h4> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>A masterpiece, worthy of TURNER,</p> + + <p class="i2">Was mine, there my friends all agree,</p> + + <p>No work of a pot-boiling learner,</p> + + <p class="i6">My "<i>View on the Dee</i>."</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>A place on the line I expected,</p> + + <p class="i2">Associate shortly to be!</p> + + <p>Hang me, if it isn't rejected,</p> + + <p class="i6">And marked with a D!</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>I will not repeat what I uttered</p> + + <p class="i2">When this was reported to me;</p> + + <p>The mere monosyllable muttered</p> + + <p class="i6">Begins with a D.</p> + </div> + </div> + <hr /> + + <h2>ON THE (POST) CARDS.</h2> + + <blockquote class="note"> + <p>["Sir JAMES FERGUSSON does not hesitate to declare his + opinion that rudeness or incivility on the part of a + Post-Office servant is, next to dishonesty, one of the + worst offences he can commit. This notice is not addressed + to men alone. Of the young women employed by the + department, there are, he says, some, if not many, whom it + is impossible to acquit of inattention and levity in the + discharge of their official duties. It is Sir JAMES + FERGUSSON's intention to ascertain, at short intervals, the + effect of this notice on the behaviour of Post-Office + officials generally."—<i>Daily Paper</i>.]</p> + </blockquote> + + <blockquote> + <p>SCENE—<i>Interior of a Post Office.</i> Female + Employees <i>engaged in congenial pursuits.</i></p> + </blockquote> + + <div class="drama"> + <p><i>First Emp.</i> (<i>ending story</i>). And so she + never got the bouquet, after all, and he went to Margate, + without even saying good-bye.</p> + + <p><i>Second Emp.</i> (<i>her Friend</i>). Well, that was + hard upon her!</p> + + <p><i>First Member of the Public</i> (<i>entering briskly + and putting coppers on the counter</i>). Now then, three + penny stamps, please!</p> + + <p><i>First Emp.</i> (<i>to her Friend</i>). Yes, as you + say, it <i>was</i> hard, as of course the matter of the + pic-nic was no affair of hers.</p> + + <p><i>Second Emp.</i> (<i>sympathetically</i>). Of course + not! They are all alike, my dear!—all alike!</p> + + <p><i>First Mem. of the Pub.</i> (<i>impatiently</i>). Now + then, three penny stamps please!</p> + + <p><i>First Emp.</i> Well, you are in a hurry! (<i>To her + Friend</i>). And from that day to this she has never heard + from him.</p> + + <p><i>Second Emp.</i> And it would have been so easy to + drop her a postcard from Herne Bay.</p> + + <p><i>First Mem. of the Pub.</i> Am I to be kept waiting + all day? Three penny postage-stamps, please.</p> + + <p><i>First Emp.</i> (<i>leisurely</i>). What do you + want?</p> + + <p><i>First Mem. of the Pub.</i> (<i>angrily</i>). Three + penny postage-stamps, and look sharp about it!</p> + + <p><i>First Emp.</i> (<i>giving stamp</i>). Threepence.</p> + + <p><i>First Mem. of the Pub.</i> (<i>furious</i>). A + threepenny stamp! I want three penny stamps. Three stamps + costing a penny each. See?</p> + + <p><i>First Emp.</i> (<i>with calm unconcern</i>). Then why + didn't you say so before? (<i>Supplies stamps and turns to + Friend.</i>) Then MARIA of course wanted to go to + Birchington.</p> + + <p><i>Second Emp.</i> Why Birchington? Why did she want to + go to Birchington?</p> + + <p><i>First Emp.</i> Well—<i>he</i> of course was at + Herne Bay.</p> + + <p><i>Second Emp.</i> Ah, now I begin to understand her + artfulness.</p> + + <p><i>First Emp.</i> Ah, there you are right, my dear! She + <i>was</i> artful! [<i>Enter</i> Second Member of the + Public, <i>covered up in cloaks and only showing the tip of + his nose.</i></p> + + <p><i>Second Mem. of the Pub.</i> (<i>in a feeble + voice</i>). Can you tell me, please, when the Mail starts + for India?</p> + + <p><i>First Emp.</i> Well, the sea air <i>is</i> the sea + air. And that reminds me, what do you think of this + tobacco-pouch for—</p> + + <p><i>Second Emp.</i> (<i>archly</i>). For I know who! Why, + you have got his initials in forget-me-nots!</p> + + <p><i>First Emp.</i> I think them so pretty, and they are + very easy to do.</p> + + <p><i>Second Mem. of the Pub.</i> (<i>in a rather louder + voice</i>). Can you tell me, please, when the Mail starts + for India?</p> + + <p><i>Second Emp.</i> I must say, dear, you have the most + perfect taste. Well, he will be ungrateful if he isn't + charmed with them! Absolutely charmed!</p> + + <p><i>Second Mem, of the Pub.</i> (<i>louder still</i>). + Will you be so good as to say when the Mail starts for + India?</p> + + <p><i>First Emp.</i> Oh, you <i>are</i> in a hurry! (<i>To + Friend</i>.) Yes, I took a lot of trouble in getting the + gold beads. There is only one place where you can get them. + They don't sell them at the Stores.</p> + + <p><i>Second Mem. of the Pub.</i> (<i>in a loud tone of + voice</i>). Again I ask you when the Mail leaves for + India?</p> + + <p><i>Second Emp.</i> And yet you can get almost anything + you want there. Only it's a terrible nuisance going from + one place to another.</p> + + <p><i>Second Mem. of the Pub.</i> (<i>in a voice of + thunder</i>). Silence! You are an impudent set! You are + calculated to injure the class to whom you belong! I am + ashamed of you!</p> + + <p><i>First Emp.</i> And who may you be?</p> + + <p><i>Second Mem. of the Pub.</i> Whom may I be? I will + tell you! (<i>Throws off his disguise</i>.) I am the + Postmaster-General!!!</p> + + <blockquote> + <p>[<i>Scene closes in upon a tableau suggestive of + astonishment, contrition and excitement.</i></p> + </blockquote> + </div> + <hr /> + + <p>ITS LATEST APPLICATION.—Chorus for Royal Academicians, + for Monday next:—"Ta-R.A.-R.A.-Boom-to-day!"</p> + <hr /> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page210" + id="page210"></a>[pg 210]</span> + + <div class="figcenter" + style="width:80%;"> + <a href="images/210.png"><img width="100%" + src="images/210.png" + alt="HISTORY EXAMS." /></a> + + <h3>HISTORY EXAMS.</h3>(<i>Effects on Education of Modern + Advertising.</i>)<br /> + "WHO WAS BORN IN CORSICA?" (<i>Silence.</i>) "TRY AND + THINK—AND DIED IN ST. HELENA?"<br /> + "OH, OF COURSE—I KNOW! THE GREAT SAPOLIO!" + </div> + <hr /> + + <h2>TO THE NEW "QUEEN OF THE MAY".</h2> + + <h3>(A HYMN OF HONEST LABOUR.)</h3> + + <center> + <i>After the Proclamation of the Anarchist Manifestoes, + (With Apologies to the Author of the magnificent "Hymn to + Proserpine.")</i> + </center> + + <blockquote class="note"> + <p>["For the third time the International mobilises its + battalions.... Already the mere mention of the magical word + 'May-Day' throws the <i>bourgeoisie</i> into a state of + nervous trembling, and its cowardice only finds refuge in + cynicism and ferocity. But whether the wretch (the + <i>bourgeoisie</i>) likes it or not, the end draws nigh. + Capitalist robbery is going to perish in mud and shame.... + The conscious proletariat organises itself, and marches + towards its emancipation. You can have it all your own way + presently; proletarians of the whole world, serfs of the + factory, the men of the workshop, the office, and the shop, + who are mercilessly exploited and pitilessly + assassinated.... For, lo! '93 reappears on the horizon.... + 'Vive l'Internationale des + Travailleurs!'"—<i>Manifesto of the May-Day Labour + Demonstration Executive Committee</i>.]</p> + </blockquote> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Have we lived long enough to have seen one thing, + that hate hath no end?</p> + + <p>Goddess, and maiden, and queen, must we hail + <i>you</i> as Labour's true friend?—</p> + + <p>Will you give us a prosperous morrow, and comfort + the millions who weep?</p> + + <p>Will you give them joy for their sorrow, sweet + labour, and satisfied sleep?</p> + + <p>Sweet is the fragrance of flowers, and soft are the + wings of the dove,</p> + + <p>And no goodlier gift is there given than the dower + of brotherly love;</p> + + <p>But you, O May-Day Medusa, whose glance makes the + heart turn cold,</p> + + <p>Art a bitter Goddess to follow, a terrible Queen to + behold.</p> + + <p>We are sick of spouting—the words burn deep + and chafe: we are fain,</p> + + <p>To rest a little from clap-trap, and probe the wild + promise of gain.</p> + + <p>For new gods we know not of are acclaimed by all + babbledom's breath,</p> + + <p>And they promise us love-inspired life—by the + red road of hatred and death.</p> + + <p>The gods, dethroned and deceased, cast + forth—so the chatterers say—</p> + + <p>Are banished with Flora and Pan, and behold our new + Queen of the May!</p> + + <p>New Queen, fresh crowned in the city, flower-drest, + her snake-sceptre a rod,</p> + + <p>Her orb a decked dynamite bomb, which shall shatter + all earth at her nod;</p> + + <p>But for us their newest device seems barren, and did + they but dare</p> + + <p>To bare the new Queen of the May, were she angel or + demon <i>when</i> bare?</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Time and old gods are at strife; we dwell in the + midst thereof,</p> + + <p>And they are but foolish who curse, and they are but + shallow who scoff.</p> + + <p>Let hate die out, take rest, poor workers, be all at + peace;</p> + + <p>Let the angry battle abate, and the barren + bitterness cease!</p> + + <p>Ah, pleasant and pastoral picture! Thrice welcome + whoever shall bring</p> + + <p>The sunshine of love after Winter, the blossoms of + joy with the Spring!</p> + + <p>Wilt THOU bring it, O new May Queen? If thou canst, + come and rule us, and take</p> + + <p>The laurel, the palm, and the pæan; all bondage but + thine we would break,</p> + + <p>And welcome the branch and the dove. But we look, + and we hold our breath,</p> + + <p>That is not the visage of Love, and beneath the + piled blossoms lurks—Death!</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>A Society all of Love and of Brotherhood! Beautiful + dream!</p> + + <p>But alas for this Promise of May! Do not Labour's + Floralia seem</p> + + <p>As flower-feasts fair to her followers? Look on the + wreaths at her feet,</p> + + <p>Flung by enthusiast hands from the mine, and the + mill, and the street,</p> + + <p>Piled flower-offerings, thine, Proletariat Queen of + the May!</p> + + <p>And what means the new Bona Dea? and what would her + suppliants say?</p> + + <p>Organised strength, solidarity, power to band and to + strike,</p> + + <p>Hope that is native to Spring,—and Hate, in + all seasons alike;</p> + + <p>Mutual trust of the many—and menace malign for + the few.</p> + + <p>Citizen, capitalist,—ah! the hours of + <i>your</i> empire seem few,</p> + + <p>An empire ill-gendered, unjust, blindly selfish, and + heartlessly strong</p> + + <p>For the crushing of famishing weakness, the rearing + of wealth-founded wrong.</p> + + <p>Few, if these throngs have their will, for the + fierce proletariat throbs</p> + + <p>For revenge on the full-fed <i>Bourgeoisie</i> which + ruthlessly harries and robs.</p> + + <p>'Tis fired with alarms, and it arms with hot haste + for the imminent fray,</p> + + <p>For it quakes at the tramp of King Mob, and the + thought of this Queen of the May.</p> + + <p>The bandit of Capital falls, and shall perish in + shame and in filth!</p> + + <p>The harvest of Labour's at hand!—The harvest; + but red is the tilth,</p> + + <p>And the reapers are wrathful and rash, and the + swift-wielded sickle that strives</p> + + <p>For the sheaves, not the gleaners' scant ears, seems + agog for the reaping of—lives!</p> + + <p>Assassins of Capital? Aye! And their weakening force + will ye meet</p> + + <p>With assassins of Labour? Shall Brotherhood redden + the field and the street?</p> + + <p>Beware of the bad black old lesson! Behold, and look + close, and beware!</p> + + <p>There are flowers at your newly-built shrine, is the + evil old serpent not there?</p> + </div> + </div><span class="pagenum"><a name="page211" + id="page211"></a>[pg 211]</span> + + <div class="figcenter" + style="width:100%;"> + <a href="images/211.png"><img width="100%" + src="images/211.png" + alt="THE NEW 'QUEEN OF THE MAY.'" /></a> + + <h3>THE NEW "QUEEN OF THE MAY."</h3> + </div><span class="pagenum"><a name="page213" + id="page213"></a>[pg 213]</span> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>The sword-edge and snake-bite, though hidden in + blossoms, are hatred's old arms.</p> + + <p>And what is your May Queen at heart, oh, true + hearts, that succumb to her charms?</p> + + <p>Dropped and deep in the blossoms, with eyes that + flicker like fire,</p> + + <p>The asp of Murder lies hid, which with poison shall + feed your desire.</p> + + <p>More than these things will she give, who looks + fairer than all these things?</p> + + <p>Not while her sceptre's a snake, and her orb the red + horror that rings</p> + + <p>Devilish, foul, round the world; while the hiss and + the roar are the voice</p> + + <p>Of this monstrous new Queen of the May, in whose + rule you would bid us rejoice.</p> + </div> + </div> + <hr /> + + <h2>MR. PUNCH'S UP-TO-DATE POETRY FOR CHILDREN.</h2> + + <h3>No. II.—"LITTLE JACK HORNER."</h3> + + <div class="figright" + style="width:33%;"> + <a href="images/213-1.png"><img width="100%" + src="images/213-1.png" + alt="Little Jack Horner." /></a> + </div> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p class="i8">LITTLE JACK HORNER,</p> + + <p class="i8">He sat in the corner,</p> + + <p>And cried for his "Mummy!" and "Nuss!"</p> + + <p class="i8">For, while eating his cake,</p> + + <p class="i8">He had got by mistake</p> + + <p>In a horrid piratical 'bus.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p class="i8">Now, some ten minutes back,</p> + + <p class="i8">You'd have seen little JACK</p> + + <p>From an Aërated Bread Shop emerge,</p> + + <p class="i8">And proceed down the Strand—</p> + + <p class="i8">Slice of cake in his hand—</p> + + <p>In a crumb-covered suit of blue serge.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p class="i8">To be perfectly frank,</p> + + <p class="i8">He was bound for the Bank,</p> + + <p>For it chanced to be dividend day,</p> + + <p class="i8">And he jumped on the 'bus,</p> + + <p class="i8">After reasoning thus—</p> + + <p>In his logical juvenile way:—</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p class="i8">"Here's a 'bus passing by,</p> + + <p class="i8">And I cannot see why</p> + + <p>I should weary my infantile feet;</p> + + <p class="i8">I've a copper to spare,</p> + + <p class="i8">And the authorised fare</p> + + <p>Is a penny to Liverpool Street."</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p class="i8">As the 'bus cantered on,</p> + + <p class="i8">Little cake-eating JOHN</p> + + <p>In the corner contentedly sat,</p> + + <p class="i8">And with that one and this</p> + + <p class="i8">(Whether Mister or Miss)</p> + + <p>Had a meteorological chat.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p class="i8">Came a bolt from the blue</p> + + <p class="i8">When, collecting his due,</p> + + <p>The conductor remarked, "Though I thank</p> + + <p class="i8">That young cake-eating gent</p> + + <p class="i8">For the penny he's sent,</p> + + <p>It's a <i>tuppenny</i> ride to the Bank!"</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p class="i8">"You're a pirate!" sobbed JACK,</p> + + <p class="i8">"And your colours are black!"</p> + + <p>But he heard—as he struggled to + speak—</p> + + <p class="i8">The conductor observe,</p> + + <p class="i8">With remarkable verve,</p> + + <p>That he didn't want none of his cheek!</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p class="i8">With a want of regard,</p> + + <p class="i8">He demanded JACK's card.</p> + + <p>And young HORNER was summoned next day,</p> + + <p class="i8">When the poor little lad</p> + + <p class="i8">Lost the battle, and had</p> + + <p>All the costs in addition to pay.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p class="i8">Now the Moral is this:</p> + + <p class="i8">Little Master and Miss,</p> + + <p>Whom I'm writing these verses to please;</p> + + <p class="i8">If your tiny feet ache,</p> + + <p class="i8">Then a 'bus you may take,</p> + + <p><i>But be sure it's an L.G.O.C.'s!</i></p> + </div> + </div> + <hr /> + + <h3>A CURSORY OBSERVATION.</h3> + + <p>From the <i>Figaro</i> for Dimanche, April 17, we make this + extract:—</p> + + <blockquote> + <p>"SPORTS ATHLÉTIQUES.—Le match international de + foot ball entre le Stade Français et le Rosslyn Park foot + ball Club de Londres sera joué demain sur le terrain du + Cursing Club de France à Levallois. L'équipe anglaise est + arrivée à Paris hier soir. Le match sera présidé par le + marquis de Dufferin."</p> + </blockquote> + + <p>"The Cursing Club!" What an awful name! For what purpose are + they banded together? Is it to curse one another by their gods? + to issue forth on <i>premières</i> to damn a new play? What + fearful language would be just audible, curses, not loud but + deep, during the progress of the Foot-ball Match over which the + Marquis of DUFFERIN is to preside! It is all over by now; but + the result we have not seen. We hope there is no Cursing Club + in England. There existed, once upon a time, in London, a Club + with an awful Tartarian name, which might have been a parent + society to a Cursing Club. Let us trust—</p> + + <blockquote class="note"> + <p>[*** The Editor puts short the article at this point, + being of opinion that "Cursing" is only a misprint for + "Coursing;" or, if not, he certainly gives <i>Le Figaro</i> + the benefit of the doubt. Note, also, that the match was to + be played on "Cursing Club Ground," lent for the occasion, + and was not to be played by Members of the "C.C."]</p> + </blockquote> + <hr /> + + <h2>THE LAY OF THE LITERARY AUTOLYCUS.</h2> + + <h4>(<i>See Correspondence in the Times on "Literary + Thefts."</i>)</h4> + + <center> + <i>Enter</i> AUTOLYCUS, <i>singing.</i> + </center> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>When books and magazines appear,</p> + + <p class="i2">With heigh! the hopes of a big + sale!—</p> + + <p>Why, then comes in the cheat o' the year,</p> + + <p class="i2">And picks their plums, talk, song, or + tale.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>The white sheets come, each page my "perk,"</p> + + <p class="i2">With heigh! sweet bards, O how they + sing!—</p> + + <p>With paste and scissors I set to work;</p> + + <p class="i2">Shall a stolen song cost anything?</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>The Poet tirra-lirra chants,</p> + + <p class="i2">With heigh! with heigh! he <i>must</i> be + a J.—</p> + + <p>His Summer songs supply my wants;</p> + + <p class="i2">They cost me nought—but, ah! they + <i>pay</i>.</p> + </div> + </div> + + <p>I have served Literature in my time, but now Literature is + in <i>my</i> service.</p> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>But shall I pay for what comes dear,</p> + + <p class="i2">To the pale scribes who write,—</p> + + <p>For news, and jokes, and stories queer?</p> + + <p class="i2">Walker! my friends, not quite!</p> + + <p>Since filchers may have leave to live,</p> + + <p class="i2">And vend their "borrowed" budget,</p> + + <p>For all my "notions" nix I'll give,</p> + + <p class="i2">Then sell them as I trudge it.</p> + </div> + </div> + + <p>My traffic is (news) sheets. My father named me AUTOLYCUS, + who, being as I am, littered under Mercury, was likewise a + snapper-up of unconsidered trifles. With paste and scissors I + procured this caparison; and my revenue is the uninquiring + public; gallows and gaol are too powerful on the highway; + picking and treadmilling are terrors to burglars; but in + <i>my</i> line of theft I sleep free from the thought of them. + A prize! a prize!...</p> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Jog on, jog on, the foot-pad way,</p> + + <p class="i2">In the modern Sikes's style-a:</p> + + <p>Punctilious fools prefer to <i>pay</i>;</p> + + <p class="i2">But I at scruples smile-a.</p> + </div> + </div> + + <p>... Ha, ha! what a fool Honesty is! and Trust, his sworn + brother, a very simple gentleman ... I understand the business, + do it; to have an open ear, a quick eye, and a nimble hand with + the shears is necessary for a (literary) cutpurse; a good nose + is requisite also, to smell out the good work of other people. + I see this is the time that the unjust man doth thrive.</p> + <hr /> + + <h3>THE WELLINGTON MONUMENT.</h3> + + <div class="figright" + style="width:17%;"> + <a href="images/213-2.png"><img width="100%" + src="images/213-2.png" + alt="The Wellington Monument." /></a> + </div> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>At last! How long ago the time</p> + + <p class="i2">When England's paltry meanness killed</p> + + <p>Her greatest Sculptor in his prime.</p> + + <p>And hid his work, now called sublime,</p> + + <p class="i2">In narrow space so nearly filled!</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>When, using Art beyond her taste,</p> + + <p class="i2">Her greatest Captain's tomb he + wrought,</p> + + <p>That noblest effort was disgraced,—</p> + + <p>It seemed to her a needless waste,</p> + + <p class="i2">The Budget Surplus was her thought.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Now may she, with some sense of shame,</p> + + <p class="i2">Amend the errors of the past,</p> + + <p>Show honour to the Great Duke's name,</p> + + <p>Repair the wrong to STEPHENS' fame,</p> + + <p class="i2">And move the Monument at last!</p> + </div> + </div> + <hr /> + + <h2>"KNOW ALL MEN BY THESE PRESENTS."</h2> + + <p>It is believed that the Rossendale Union of Liberal Clubs, + having given a pair of slippers, a rug, and two pieces of + cretonne to Mr. GLADSTONE, will also make the following + presents, in due course:—</p> + + <p><i>Sir W. L-ws-n.</i>—Twelve dozen Tea-cosies, and ten + yards of blue Ribbon.</p> + + <p><i>Mr. L-b-ch-re.</i>—A Jester's cap.</p> + + <p><i>Sir W.V. H-rc-rt.</i>—A Spencer, without arms, but + emblazoned with those of the Plantagenets.</p> + + <p><i>Mr. M-cl-re.</i>—A Hood.</p> + + <p><i>Mr. McN-ll.</i>—A knitted Respirator, to be worn in + the House.</p> + + <p><i>Lord R. Ch-rch-ll.</i>—Twelve dozen table-cloths, + twenty-four dozen Dinner-napkins, and thirty-six dozen + Pudding-cloths.</p> + + <p><i>Sir E. Cl-rke.</i>—A scarlet Jersey, inscribed + "Salvation Army."</p> + + <p><i>Mr. R. Sp-nc-r.</i>—A Smock Frock.</p> + + <p><i>Mr. B-lf-r.</i>—Some Collars of Irish linen, and + one of hemp, the latter to be supplied by the Irish patriots in + America.</p> + + <p><i>Mr. E. St-nh-pe.</i>—A Necktie of green poplin, + embroidered with shamrocks.</p> + + <p><i>Mr. M. H-ly.</i>—An Ulster.</p> + + <p><i>Col. S-nd-rs-n.</i>—A Cork jacket.</p> + + <p><i>Mr. W. O'Br-n.</i>—A pair of Tr——rs, in + fancy cretonne.</p> + + <p><i>Sir G.O. Tr-v-ly-n.</i>—A Coat (reversible).</p> + + <p><i>Mr. C. C-nyb-re.</i>—A Waistcoat (strait).</p> + <hr /> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page214" + id="page214"></a>[pg 214]</span> + + <div class="figcenter" + style="width:50%;"> + <a href="images/214-1.png"><img width="100%" + src="images/214-1.png" + alt="'UNDERSTOOD.'" /></a> + + <h3>"UNDERSTOOD."</h3> + + <p>"I SAY, DUBOIS, YOU <i>DO</i> KNOW HOW TO LAY IT ON + THICK, OLD MAN! I LIKE YOUR CHEEK TELLING MISS BROWN SHE + SPOKE FRENCH WITHOUT THE LEAST ACCENT!"</p> + + <p>"VY, CERTAINEMENT, MON AMI—VIZOUT ZE LEAST + <i>FRENCH</i> ACCENT!"</p> + </div> + <hr /> + + <h2>"THE (SOLDIERS') LIFE WE LIVE."</h2> + + <center> + (<i>Imaginary Evidence that should be added to the Report + of Lord Wantage's Committee.</i>) + </center> + + <div class="drama"> + <p><i>Chairman.</i> I think your name is RICHARD + REDMOND?</p> + + <p><i>Witness.</i> I beg pardon, my Lord and + Gentlemen—DICK REDMOND—simple, gushing, + explosive DICK.</p> + + <p><i>Chair.</i> Have you been known by any other name?</p> + + <p><i>Wit.</i> Off duty, my Lord, I have been called + CHARLES WARNER. Nay, why should I not confess + it?—CHARLIE WARNER. Yes, my Lord, CHARLIE WARNER!</p> + + <p><i>Chair.</i> You wish to describe how you were + enlisted?</p> + + <p><i>Wit.</i> Yes, my Lord. It was in this way. I had + returned from some races in a dog-cart with a villain. We + stopped at a wayside public-house kept by a comic + Irishman.</p> + + <p><i>Chair.</i> Are these details necessary?</p> + + <p><i>Wit.</i> Hear me, my Lord; hear me! I confess it, I + took too much to drink. Yes, my Lord, I was drunk! And then + a Sergeant in the Dragoon Guards gave me a shilling, and + placed some ribands in my pot-hat, and—well—I + was a soldier! Yes, a soldier! And as a soldier was refused + permission to visit my dying mother!</p> + + <p><i>Chair.</i> Were there no other legal formalities in + connection with your enlistment? For instance—Were + you not taken before an attesting Magistrate?</p> + + <p><i>Wit.</i> No, my Lord, no! I was carried off + protesting, while my villanous friend disappeared with my + sweetheart! It was cruel, my Lord and Gentlemen! It was + very cruel!</p> + + <p><i>Chair.</i> Did you desert?</p> + + <p><i>Wit.</i> I did, my Lord—after I had obtained a + uniform fitting closely to the figure; but it was only that + I might obtain the blessing of my mother! And when I + returned home the soldiers followed me—and might have + killed me!</p> + + <p><i>Chair.</i> How was that?</p> + + <p><i>Wit.</i> When I had taken refuge in a haystack, they + prodded the haystack with their swords! And this is life in + the Army!</p> + + <p><i>Chair.</i> Were you arrested on discovery?</p> + + <p><i>Wit.</i> No; they spared me that indignity! They saw, + my Lord, that my mother was dying, and respectfully fell + back while I assisted the old Lady to pass away peacefully. + But then, after all, they were men. In spite of their red + patrol jackets, brass helmets, and no spurs, they were men, + my Lord,—men! And, as soldiers, after I had broken + from prison, and was accused of murder, they again released + me, because some one promised to buy my discharge!</p> + + <p><i>Chair.</i> And where are you quartered?</p> + + <p><i>Wit.</i> At the Royal Princess's Theatre, Oxford + Street, where I have these strange experiences of + discipline, and where I am enlisted in the unconventional, + not to say illegal, way I have described, nightly; nay, + sometimes twice daily!</p> + + <p><i>Chair.</i> And why have you proffered your + evidence?</p> + + <p><i>Wit.</i> Because I think the Public ought to know, my + Lord, the great services afforded by the most recent + Melodrama to the popularity of the Army, and—yes, the + cause of recruiting!</p> + + <blockquote> + <p>[<i>The Witness then withdrew.</i></p> + </blockquote> + </div> + <hr /> + + <h2>HOW THEY BRING THE GOOD NEWS!</h2> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>All the papers teeming</p> + + <p>With, the news of DEEMING</p> + + <p class="i2">On the shore or ship;</p> + + <p>Telling of his tearing</p> + + <p>Hair that he was wearing</p> + + <p class="i2">From his upper lip.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>(T-SS-D, rush! Pursue it!</p> + + <p>Buy it, bring it, glue it</p> + + <p class="i2">On your model! Quick!)</p> + + <p>Telling how he's looking,</p> + + <p>How he likes the cooking,—</p> + + <p class="i2">Bah, it makes one sick!</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Telling of his bearing,</p> + + <p>How the crowds are staring,</p> + + <p class="i2">What may be his fate,</p> + + <p>Just what clothes he wore the</p> + + <p>Days he came before the</p> + + <p class="i2">Local Magistrate.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>And, verbatim printed</p> + + <p>All he's said or hinted</p> + + <p class="i2">As to any deeds;</p> + + <p>Such a chance as this is</p> + + <p>Not a paper misses!</p> + + <p class="i2">Everybody reads!</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Would they give such latest</p> + + <p>News of best and greatest</p> + + <p class="i2">Folks? What's that you say?</p> + + <p>Who would read of virtue,</p> + + <p>Or such news insert? You</p> + + <p class="i2">Know it would not pay.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>So, demand creating</p> + + <p>Such supply, they're stating</p> + + <p class="i2">All that they can tell;</p> + + <p>Spite of School-Board teaching,</p> + + <p>Culture, science, preaching,</p> + + <p class="i2">This is sure to sell.</p> + </div> + </div> + <hr /> + + <div class="figcenter" + style="width:50%;"> + <a href="images/214-2.png"><img width="100%" + src="images/214-2.png" + alt="THE END OF THE SEASON. AU REVOIR!" /></a> + + <h3>THE END OF THE SEASON. AU REVOIR!</h3> + </div> + <hr /> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page215" + id="page215"></a>[pg 215]</span> + + <div class="figcenter" + style="width:100%;"> + <a href="images/215.png"><img width="100%" + src="images/215.png" + alt="STAIRCASE SCENES.—No. 1. PRIVATE VIEW, ROYAL ACADEMY." /> + </a> + + <h3>STAIRCASE SCENES.—No. 1. PRIVATE VIEW, ROYAL + ACADEMY.</h3> + </div> + <hr /> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page216" + id="page216"></a>[pg 216]</span> + + <h2>THE YOUNG GIRL'S COMPANION.</h2> + + <h4>(<i>By Mrs. Payley,</i>)</h4> + + <h3>II.—DINING-OUT.</h3> + + <p>I can quite understand that a young girl may not care much + for the mere material dinner. The palate is a pleasure of + maturity. The woman of fifty probably includes a menu or two + among her most sacred memories; but the young girl is capable + of dining on part of a cutlet, any pink sweetmeat, and some + tea. But I must confess that I was surprised at another + objection to dining-out that a young girl, only at the end of + her second season, once made to me. She said that she + positively could not stand any longer the conversation of the + average young man of Society. I asked her why, and she then + asserted that this sort of young man confined himself to flat + badinage and personal brag, which he was mistaken in believing + to be veiled. What she said was, of course, perfectly true. + Civilisation is responsible for the flat badinage, for + civilisation requires that conversation shall be light and + amusing, but can provide no remedy for slow wits; on the other + hand, the personal brag is a relic of the original man. The + badinage is the young man's defect in art; the brag is his + defect in nature. But I fail to see any objection to such + conversation; on the contrary, it is charming because it + <i>is</i> so average; you know beforehand just what you will + hear and just what you will say, and everything is consequently + made easy. The man puts on that kind of talk just as he puts on + his dress-coat; both are part of the evening uniform. The motto + of the perfect young man of Society is "I resemble." I pointed + all this out to the young girl in question, and she retorted + that it was a pity that silence was a lost art. However, she + continued to dine-out and to take her part in the only possible + conversation, and after all Society rather encourages + theoretical rebellion, provided that it is accompanied by + practical submission.</p> + + <div class="figleft" + style="width:28%;"> + <a href="images/216-1.png"><img width="100%" + src="images/216-1.png" + alt="The perfect young man of Society." /></a> + </div> + + <p>From the point of view of sentiment, a dinner has less + potentialities than a dance; but the dinner may begin what the + dance will end; you set light to the fuse in the dining-room, + and the explosion takes place six weeks afterwards in + someone-else's conservatory. Nothing much can be done on the + staircase; but, if you can decently pretend that you have heard + of the young man who is taking you in, he will probably like + it. If, after a few minutes, you decide that it is worth while + to interest the young man, discourage his flat badinage, and + encourage his personal brag. The only thing in which it is + quite certain that every man will be interested is, the + interest someone else takes in him. Later on, he will probably + be induced to illustrate the topic of conversation by telling + you (if it would not bore you) of a little incident which + happened to himself. The incident will be prettily coloured for + dinner-table use, and he will make the story prove a merit in + himself, which he will take care to disclaim vainly. When he + has finished, look very meditatively at your plate, as if you + saw visions in it, and then turn on him suddenly with wide + eyes—with the right kind of eyelashes, this is + effective.</p> + + <p>"I suppose you don't know it, Mr. BLANK," you tell him, "but + really I can't help saying it. You behaved + splendidly—splendidly!"</p> + + <p>Droop the eyelashes quickly, and become meditative again. He + will deprecate your compliment a little incoherently.</p> + + <p>"Not at all, not at + all—Miss—er—ASTERISK—I + really—assure you—nothing more than + any—er—other man would have done. Some other people + at the time told me"—(<i>laughs + nervously</i>)—"very much—er—what you have + just said, but—er—personally, + I—really—could never see it, or of course I + wouldn't have mentioned it to you."</p> + + <p>Your rejoinder will depend a good deal on how far you mean + to go, and how much of that kind of thing you think you can + stand. If you like, you can drop your handkerchief or your + glove when you rise; it will please him to pick it up for you, + and he will feel, for a moment, as if he had saved your + life.</p> + + <p>If you do not want to please the man, but only to show your + own superiority, it may perhaps be as well to remember that + women are better than men, as a rule, in flat badinage. Men + talk best when they are by themselves, but they are liable to + be painfully natural at such times. I had some little + difficulty in finding this out, but I thought it my duty to + know, and—well, I <i>do</i> know.</p> + + <p>The correspondence that I have received has not been + altogether pleasant. I have had one letter from ETHEL (aged + thirteen) saying that she thinks me a mean sneak for prying + into other people's Diaries. I can only reply that I was acting + for the public good. I have had a sweet letter, however, from + "AZALEA." She has been absolutely compelled, by force of + circumstances, to allow the distinct attentions of three + different men. She does not give the names of the men, only + descriptions, but I should advise her to keep the dark one. She + can see the will at Somerset House. "JANE" writes to ask what + is the best cure for freckles. I do not answer questions of + that kind. I have replied to my other correspondents + privately.</p> + <hr /> + + <h3>REPULSING THE AMAZONS.</h3> + + <h4>(<i>See Cartoon, "Arming the Amazons," Dec. 5, + 1891.</i>)</h4> + + <div class="figright" + style="width:50%;"> + <a href="images/216-2.png"><img width="100%" + src="images/216-2.png" + alt="Repulsing the Amazons." /></a> + </div> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Arming the Amazons against the Greeks?</p> + + <p>That PRIAM SALISBURY tried some few short weeks</p> + + <p>Before the present fray. FAWCETTA fair</p> + + <p>Had prayed; the question then seemed "in the + air,"</p> + + <p>And PRIAM proffered then the Franchise-spear,</p> + + <p>(A shadowy one, that gave no grounds for fear,)</p> + + <p>To poor PENTHESILEA.</p> + + <p class="i10">Now, ah, now</p> + + <p>ROLLITTUS moves, there's going to be a row,</p> + + <p>And lo! the mingled ranks of Greece and Troy</p> + + <p>Close 'gainst the Amazons. Her steed, a toy,</p> + + <p>A hobby-horse, that any maid may mount,</p> + + <p>Is not—just now—of any great + account.</p> + + <p>Her phantom spear will pierce no stout male + mail;</p> + + <p>But should ROLLITTUS <i>not</i>—(confound + him!)—fail,</p> + + <p>A female host, well armed, and <i>not</i> on + hobbies,</p> + + <p>Might prove as dangerous as a batch of Bobbies.</p> + + <p>The fair FAWCETTA then must be thrown over;</p> + + <p>PENTHESILEA finds no hero-lover</p> + + <p>In either host. PRIAM, abroad, is dumb.</p> + + <p>Ah, maiden-hosts, man's love for you's a hum.</p> + + <p>Each fears you—in the foeman's cohorts + thrown,</p> + + <p>But <i>neither side desires you in its own!</i></p> + + <p>The false GLADSTONIUS first, he whom you + nourish,</p> + + <p>A snake in your spare bosoms, dares to flourish</p> + + <p>Fresh arms against you; potent, though polite,</p> + + <p>He fain would bow you out of the big fight,</p> + + <p>Civilly shelve you. "Don't kick up a row,</p> + + <p>And—spoil my game! Another day, not now,</p> + + <p>There's a <i>dear</i> creature!" CHAMBERLAINIUS, + too,</p> + + <p>Hard as a nail, and squirmy as a screw,</p> + + <p>Sides with the elder hero, just for once;</p> + + <p>CHAPLINIUS also, active for the nonce</p> + + <p>On the Greek side, makes up the Traitrous Three,</p> + + <p>One from each faction! Ah! 'tis sad to see</p> + + <p>PENTHESILEA, fierce male foes unite</p> + + <p>In keeping female warriors from the fight;</p> + + <p>Yet think, look round, and—you <i>may</i> find + they're right!</p> + </div> + </div> + <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> +<div>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 14544 ***</div> +</body> +</html> diff --git a/14544-h/images/205.png b/14544-h/images/205.png Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..aa04b18 --- /dev/null +++ b/14544-h/images/205.png diff --git a/14544-h/images/206.png b/14544-h/images/206.png Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..42681a3 --- /dev/null +++ b/14544-h/images/206.png diff --git a/14544-h/images/207.png b/14544-h/images/207.png Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..2d44c18 --- /dev/null +++ b/14544-h/images/207.png diff --git a/14544-h/images/208.png b/14544-h/images/208.png Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..70eb970 --- /dev/null +++ b/14544-h/images/208.png diff --git a/14544-h/images/209.png b/14544-h/images/209.png Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..3fda138 --- /dev/null +++ b/14544-h/images/209.png diff --git a/14544-h/images/210.png b/14544-h/images/210.png Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..1861c67 --- /dev/null +++ b/14544-h/images/210.png diff --git a/14544-h/images/211.png b/14544-h/images/211.png Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..8a33f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/14544-h/images/211.png diff --git a/14544-h/images/213-1.png b/14544-h/images/213-1.png Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..8f8e74a --- /dev/null +++ b/14544-h/images/213-1.png diff --git a/14544-h/images/213-2.png b/14544-h/images/213-2.png Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..c4886aa --- /dev/null +++ b/14544-h/images/213-2.png diff --git a/14544-h/images/214-1.png b/14544-h/images/214-1.png Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..602a99b --- /dev/null +++ b/14544-h/images/214-1.png diff --git a/14544-h/images/214-2.png b/14544-h/images/214-2.png Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..ddd496b --- /dev/null +++ b/14544-h/images/214-2.png diff --git a/14544-h/images/215.png b/14544-h/images/215.png Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..baafd1c --- /dev/null +++ b/14544-h/images/215.png diff --git a/14544-h/images/216-1.png b/14544-h/images/216-1.png Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..4d2e0c6 --- /dev/null +++ b/14544-h/images/216-1.png diff --git a/14544-h/images/216-2.png b/14544-h/images/216-2.png Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..ec2a14a --- /dev/null +++ b/14544-h/images/216-2.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..830a9cf --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #14544 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/14544) diff --git a/old/14544-8.txt b/old/14544-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..722314c --- /dev/null +++ b/old/14544-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,1765 @@ +The Project Gutenberg eBook, Punch, or the London Charivari, Vol. 102, +April 30, 1892, by Various, Edited by F. C. Burnand + + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + + + + +Title: Punch, or the London Charivari, Vol. 102, April 30, 1892 + +Author: Various + +Release Date: December 31, 2004 [eBook #14544] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + + +***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI, +VOL. 102, APRIL 30, 1892*** + + +E-text prepared by Malcolm Farmer, William Flis, and the Project Gutenberg +Online Distributed Proofreading Team + + + +Note: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this + file which includes the original illustrations. + See 14544-h.htm or 14544-h.zip: + (https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/4/5/4/14544/14544-h/14544-h.htm) + or + (https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/4/5/4/14544/14544-h.zip) + + + + + +PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI + +VOL. 102 + +APRIL 30, 1892 + + + + + + + +MR. PUNCH'S HEBRIDEAN SALMON-FLY BOOK. + +STRANGE ADVENTURES OF A PEN-HOLDER. + + (By Wullie White, Author of "They Taught Her to Death" + "A Pauper in Tulle," "My Cloudy Glare," "Green Pasterns in + Picalilli," "Ran Fast to Royston," &c., &c., &c.) + +["I now send you," writes this popular and delightful Author, "the +latest of the Novels in which I mingle delicate sentiment with +Hebridean or Highland scenery, and bring the wisdom of a Londoner to +bear directly upon the unsophisticated innocence of a kilt-wearing +population. I am now republishing my books in a series. I'll take +short odds about my salmon-flies as compared with anyone else's, and +am prepared to back my sunsets and cloud-effects against the world. No +takers. I thought not. Here goes!"] + +CHAPTER I. + +[Illustration] + +I held it in my right hand, toying with it curiously, and not without +pleasure. It was merely a long, wooden pen-holder, inky and inert to +an unappreciative eye, but to me it was a bright magician, skilled +in the painting of glowing pictures, a traveller in many climes, a +tried and trusted friend, who had led me safely through many strange +adventures and much uncouth dialect. "Old friend," I said, addressing +it kindly, "shall you and I set out together on another journey? We +have seen many countries, and the faces of many men, and yet, though +we are advancing in years, the time has not yet come for me to lay +you down, as having no need of you. What say you--shall we start once +more?" I hear a confused sound as of men who murmur together, and +say, "We have supped full of horrors, and have waded chin-deep in +Zulu blood; we have followed the Clergy of the Established Church into +the recesses of terrible crimes, and have endured them as they bared +their too sensitive consciences to our gaze. We pine for simpler, and +more wholesome pleasures. Now," I continued, "if only Queen TITA and +the rest will help us, I think we can do something to satisfy this +clamour." For all answer, my pen-holder nestled lovingly in my hand. +I placed my patent sunset-nib in its mouth, waved it twice, dipped it +once, and began. + +CHAPTER II. + +The weary day was at length sinking peacefully to rest behind the +distant hills. The packed and tumbled clouds lay heavily towards the +West, where a gaunt jagged tower of rock rose sheer into the sky. +And lo! suddenly a broad shaft of blood-red light shot through the +brooding cumulus and rested gorgeously upon the landscape. On each +side of this a thin silvery veil of mist crept slowly up and hung in +impalpable folds. The Atlantic sand stretching away to the North shone +with the effulgence of burnished copper. And now brilliant flickers +of coloured light, saffron, purple, green and rose danced over the +heaven's startled face. The piled clouds opened and showed in the +interspace a lurid lake of blood tinged with the pale violet of an +Irishwoman's eyes. Great pillars of flame sprang up rebelliously and +spread over the burning horizon. Then a strange, soft, yellow and +vaporous light raised its twelve bore breech-loading ejector to its +shoulder and shot across the Cryanlaughin hills, and the cattle shone +red in the green pastures, and everything else glowed, and the whole +world burned with the bewildering glare of a stout publican's nose in +a London fog. And silence came down upon the everlasting hills whose +outlines gleamed in a prismatic-- + +"That will do," said a mysterious Voice, "the paint-box is exhausted!" + +CHAPTER III. + +I was shocked at this rude interruption. + +"Sir!" I said, "I cannot see you, though I hear your voice. Will you +not disclose yourself?" + +"Nonsense, man," said the aggravating, but invisible one, "do not +waste time. Let us get on with the story. You know what comes next. +_Revenons à nos saumons._ Ha, Ha! spare the rod and spoil the book!" + +I was vexed, but I had to obey, and this was the result: + +The pools were full of gleaming curves of silver, each one belonging +to a separate salmon of gigantic size fresh run from the sea. The +foaming Black Water tumbled headlong over its rocks and down its +narrow channel. DONALD, the big keeper, stood industriously upon the +bank arranging flies. "I hef been told," he observed, "tat ta English +will be coming to Styornoway, and there will be no more Gaelic spoken. +But perhaps it iss not true, for they will tell many lies. I am a +teffle of a liar myself." + +And lo! as we watched, the grey sky seemed to be split in two by an +invisible wedge, and a purple gleam of light shot-- + +"Stow that!" said the Voice, "I have allowed you to put in a patch of +Gaelic, but I really cannot let you do any more sun-pictures. Try and +think that it is a close time for landscapes, and don't let the light +shoot again for a bit." + +"All right," I retorted, not without annoyance, "but you'll just +have to make up your mind to lose that salmon. It was a magnificent +forty-pounder, and, if it hadn't been for your ridiculous +interruption, we should have landed him splendidly in another six +pages." + +"As you like," said the Voice. + +CHAPTER IV. + +And now our journey was drawing to a close. Out of the solemn hush +of the purple mountains we had passed slowly southwards back to the +roar and the turmoil of the London streets. And many friends had +said farewell to us. SHEILA with her low, sweet brow, her exquisitely +curved lips, and her soft blue eyes had held us enraptured, and we +had wept with COQUETTE, and fiercely cheered the WHAUP while he held +WATTIE by the heels, and made him say a sweer. And we had talked +with MACLEOD and grown mournful with Madcap VIOLET, and had seen many +another fresh and charming face, and had talked Gaelic with gusto and +discrimination. And Queen TITA had sped with us, and we had adored +BELLE, and yet we cried for more. But now the dream-journey was past, +and lo! suddenly the whole heaven was blazing with light, and a bright +saffron band lay across-- + +"Steady there!" said the Voice. "Remember your promise!" + +THE END. + + * * * * * + +SAINTS OR SINNERS? + +[BY SPECIAL WIRE.] + +MELBOURNE.--It is said, on good authority, that the favourite books of +the interesting prisoner now in custody are, the _Pilgrim's Progress_, +an Australian Summary of the _Newgate Calendar_, and the poetry of +the late Dr. Watts. He has also expressed himself as pleased with +Mrs. Humphrey Ward's latest work of fiction, though he does not quite +approve of the theological opinions of the writer. + +PARIS, _Tuesday_.--The supposed author of the dynamite outrages, is +the recipient of numerous presents in prison, sent him by male and +female admirers, and persons anxious for his conversion and his +autograph. The edition of _Thomas à Kempis_, recently given him, is a +most valuable antique copy; but he complains of the print as unsuited +to his eyesight. + +MELBOURNE. _Later_.--The Solicitor engaged on behalf of our +interesting prisoner has requested the Government to allow a +commission, consisting of the medical superintendents at Broadmore, +Hanwell and Colney Hatch, with six other English experts in insanity, +to come out to Australia to inquire into the mental condition of +the prisoner. A telegram has also been despatched to Lord SALISBURY +requesting that the LORD CHIEF JUSTICE OF ENGLAND and an Old Bailey +Jury may be sent out to try the case; otherwise there will be "no +chance of justice being done." The British PREMIER's reply has not yet +been received. It is believed that he is consulting Mr. GOSCHEN about +the probable cost of such a step. + +MELBOURNE. _Latest_.--Through the instrumentality of an Official +connected with the prison, I am enabled to send you some important +information concerning our prisoner which you may take as absolutely +authentic. His breakfast this morning consisted of buttered toast, +coffee, and poached eggs. He complained that the latter were not +new-laid, and became very excited. It has also transpired that he is +strangely in favour of Imperial Federation, and he has declared to his +gaolers that "The friendship between England and her Colonies ought +to be cemented." This expression of opinion has created a profound +sensation. + + * * * * * + +THE POINT OF VIEW. + +(_AS PRIVATE TOMMY ATKINS PUTS IT TO HIS COMRADE BILL._) + + [In the Report of Lord WANTAGE's Committee, it appears that + our Home Army costs seventeen and a-half millions per annum. + The Duke of CAMBRIDGE doubts if we could rapidly mobilise one + Army Corps. Sir EVELYN WOOD holds half the men under him at + Aldershot are not equal to doing a day's service, even in + England. The Duke of CONNAUGHT says half the battalions under + his command are no good for service, cannot even carry their + kits, and are not fit to march. Lord WOLSELEY, it is stated, + compares the British Army to a "squeezed lemon."] + + "Squeezed lemon!" _That's_ encouraging! + Wish Wolseley knew 'ow much it's pleased us. + I'd like to arsk _one_ little thing: + I wonder who it is who's squeezed us? + The whole Report's a thing to cheer; + Makes us feel proud and pleased, oh! very! + And won't the bloomin' furrineer + Over our horacles make merry? + + Costs seventeen millions and a arf, + And carn't go nowhere, nor do nothink! + That tots it up! They wouldn't charf, + Eh, BILL, these Big Wigs! What do _you_ think? + Therefore, we're just a useless lot. + After pipe-claying and stiff-starching, + We _might_ be good for stopping shot, + Only that we're not fit for marching! + + We cannot carry our own kits! + I say, Bill, _ain't_ we awful duffers? + Not furrin foes, or Frenchy wits, + Could more completely give us snuffers. + CAMBRIDGE, CONNAUGHT, Sir EVELYN WOOD, + All of a mind, for once, about us! + What wonder Bungs dub us no good, + And lackeys, snobs, and street-boys flout us? + + I see myself as others see; + A weedy, narrer-chested stripling, + Can't fight, can't march, can't 'ardly see! + And yet young Mister RUDYARD KIPLING + Don't picture hus as kiddies slack, + Wot can't go out without our nurses, + But ups and pats us on the back + In very pooty potry-verses.[1] + + We're much obliged to 'im, I'm sure, + (Though potry ain't my fav'rit reading,) + He's civil, kind and not cock-sure; + Good sense goes sometimes with good-breeding. + So Tommy's best respects to _'im_, + At Aldershot we'd like to treat 'im. + Though if he bobs in Evelyn's swim, + He _might_ not know us _when_ we meet 'im! + + But, Bill, if all this barney's _true_ + Consarnin' "Our Poor Little Army," + It must be nuts to Pollyvoo! + _He_ needn't feel a mite alarmy. + _Whose_ fault is it we cost a lot, + And, if war comes, _must_ fail, or fly it? + Well facts is facts, and bounce is rot; + But, blarm it, BILL,--_I'd like to try it!_ + + [Footnote 1: Mr. Kipling dedicates his "Barrack-Room Ballads" + to "TOMMY ATKINS" in these lines:-- + + I have made for you a song, + An' it may be right or wrong, + But only you can tell me if it's true; + I've tried for to explain. + Both your pleasure and your pain, + And, THOMAS, here's my best respects to you! + + Oh, there'll surely come a day + When they'll grant you all your pay + And treat you as a Christian ought to do; + So, until that day comes round, + Heaven keep you safe and sound, + And, Thomas, here's my best respects to you!] + + * * * * * + +[Illustration: THE STATE OF THE MARKET. + +_Artist_ (_to Customer, who has come to buy on behalf of a large +Furnishing Firm in Tottenham Court Road_). "HOW WOULD THIS SUIT YOU? +'SUMMER'!" + +_Customer._ "H'M--'SUMMER.' WELL, SIR, THE FACT IS WE FIND THERE'S +VERY LITTLE DEMAND FOR _GREEN_ GOODS JUST NOW. IF YOU HAD A LINE OF +_AUTUMN TINTS_ NOW--THAT'S THE ARTICLE WE FIND MOST SALE FOR AMONG OUR +CUSTOMERS!"] + + * * * * * + +ROBERT ON THE HARTISTIC COPPERASHUN. + +Oh, ain't the Copperashun jest a cummin out in the Hi Art line! Why, +dreckly as they let it be nown as they was a willin to make room +in their bewtifool Galery for any of the finest picters in the hole +country as peepel was wantin to send there, jest to let the world +no as they'd got 'em, and that they wos considered good enuff by the +LORD MARE and the Sherriffs and all the hole Court of Haldermen, than +they came a poring in in such kwantities, that pore Mr. WELSH, the +Souperintendant, was obligated to arsk all the hole Court of common +Counselmen, what on airth he was to do with 'em, and they told him to +hinsult the Libery Committee on the matter, and they, like the lerned +gents as they is, told him to take down sum of the werry biggest and +the most strikingest as they'd got of their hone Picters and ang 'em +up in the Gildhall Westybool, as they calls it, coz it's in the East, +I spose, and so make room for a lot of the littel uns as had been +sent to 'em, coz they was painted by "Old Marsters," tho' who "Old +Marsters" was, I, for one, never could make out, xcep that he must +have well deserved his Nickname, considering the number of picters as +he must ha' painted. And now cums won of the werry cleverest dodges +as even a Welsh Souperintendant of Gildhall picturs coud posserbly +have thort on. Why what does he do? but he has taken down out of the +Gallery, won of the werry biggest, and one of the werry grandest, +Picters of moddern times, and has hung it up in the Westybool +aforesaid, to take the whole shine out of all the little uns as so +many hemnent swells had been ony too glad to send to Gildhall--"the +paytron of the Harts," as I herd a hemnent Halderman call it,--to give +'em the reel stamp as fust rate. + +And now what does my thousands of readers suppose was the subjeck +of this werry grandest of all Picters? Why, no other than a most +magniffisent, splendid, gorgeus, large as life representashun of the +LORD MARE's Show, a cummin in all its full bewty and splender from the +middel of the Royal Xchange!! + +But ewen that isn't all. For the Painter of this trewly hartistic +Picter, determined to make his grand work as truthful as it is +striking, has lawished his hole sole, so to speak, upon what are +undoubtedly the most commanding figures in the hole glorious display, +and them is the LORD MARE's three Gentlemen! with their wands of +power, and their glorious Unyforms, not forgetting their luvly silk +stockins; on this occasion, too, spotless as the rising Sun! To say +that they are the hobservd of all hobservers, and the hadmirashun of +all the fare sex, and the henvy of the other wun, need not be said, +tho they do try to hide their gelesy with a sickly smile. + +Need I say that it is surrounded ewery day by a sercle of smiling +admirers, who, I have no doubt, come agane and agane, to show it to +their admiring friends; and, just to prove its grand success, the +werry last time as I was there, I owerheard a smiling gent say to his +friend,--"Well, TOM, as this is such a success, it would not supprise +me if the same hemnent Hartis was to paint the LORD MARE's Bankwet +next year, with all the Nobel Harmy of Waiters arranged in front!" +Wich Harmy will be pussinelly konduktid by your faithful + +ROBERT. + + * * * * * + +[Illustration: THE POINT OF VIEW. + +_Frenchman._ "WELL, MON AMI, YOUR SIR EVELYN VOLSELEY SAY YOU CAN GO +NOWHERES AND DO NOSING! YOU ARE A SKVEEZED LEMON!" + +_Tommy Atkins._ "WELL, HANG IT, YOU BLOOMING FURRINEERS HAVEN'T ALWAYS +FOUND IT SO!"] + + * * * * * + +TELEPHONIC THEATRE-GOERS. + +(_A SKETCH AT THE ELECTRICAL EXHIBITION._) + + SCENE--_The Exterior of the Telephone Music Room in the + Egyptian Vestibule. The time is about eight. A placard + announces, "Manchester Theatre now on"; inside the wickets a + small crowd is waiting for the door to be opened. A Cautious + Man comes up to the turnstile with the air of a fox examining + a trap._ + +_The Cautious Man_ (_to the Commissionnaire_). How long can I stay in +for sixpence? + +_The Commissionnaire_. Ten Minutes, Sir. + +_The C.M._ Only ten minutes, eh? But, look here, how do I know +there'll be anything going on while I'm _in_ there? + +_Comm._ You'll find out that from the instruments, Sir. + +_The C.M._ Ah, I daresay--but what _I_ mean is, suppose there's +nothing _to hear_--between the Acts and all that? + +_Comm._ Comp'ny guarantees there's a performance on while you're in +the room, Sir. + +[Illustration: "How very distinctly you hear the dialogue, Sir, don't +you?"] + +_The C.M._ Yes, but all these other people waiting to get in--How'm I +to know I shall get a _place_? + +_Comm._ (_outraged_). Look 'ere, Sir, we're the National Telephone +Comp'ny with a reputation to lose, and if you've any ideer we want to +swindle you, all I can tell _you_ is--stop outside! + +_The C.M._ (_suddenly subdued_). Oh--er--all right, thought I'd make +sure _first_, you know. Sixpence, isn't it? + + [_He passes into the enclosure, and joins the crowd._ + +_A Comic Man_ (_in an undertone to his Fiancée_). That's a careful +bloke, that is. Know the _value_ o' money, _he_ does. It'll have to +be a precious scientific sort o' telephone that takes _'im_ in. He'll +'ave _his_ six-pennorth, if it bursts the machine! Hullo, they're +letting us in now. + + [_The door is slightly opened from within, causing an + expectant movement in crowd--the door is closed again._ + +_A Superior Young Lady_ (_to her Admirer_). I just caught a glimpse +of the people inside. They were all sitting holding things like +opera-glasses up to their ears--they did look so ridiculous! + +_Her Admirer_. Well, it's about time they gave _us_ a chance of +looking ridiculous, their ten minutes must be up now. I've been trying +to think what this put me in mind of. _I_ know. Waiting outside the +Pit doors! doesn't it you? + +_The Sup. Y.L._ (_languidly, for the benefit of the bystanders_). Do +they make you wait like this for the Pit? + +_Her Admirer_. _Do they make you wait!_ Why, weren't you and I +three-quarters of an hour getting into the Adelphi the other evening? + +_The Sup. Y.L._ (_annoyed with him_). I don't see any necessity to +bawl it out like that if we _were_. + + [_The discreetly curtained windows are thrown back, revealing + persons inside reluctantly tearing themselves away from their + telephones. As the door opens, there is a frantic rush to get + places._ + +_An Attendant_ (_soothingly_). Don't crush, Ladies and +Gentlemen--plenty of room for all. Take your time! + + [_The crowd stream in, and pounce eagerly on chairs and + telephones; the usual Fussy Family waste precious minutes + in trying to get seats together, and get separated in the + end. Undecided persons flit from one side to another. + Gradually they all settle down, and stop their ears with + the telephone-tubes, the prevailing expression being one of + anxiety, combined with conscious and apologetic imbecility. + Nervous people catch the eye of complete strangers across the + table, and are seized with suppressed giggles. An Irritable + Person finds himself between the Comic Man and a Chatty + Old Gentleman. + +_The Comic Man_ (_to his Fiancée, putting the tube to his ear_). Can't +get _my_ telephone to tork yet! (_Shakes it._) _I'll_ wake 'em up! +(_Puts the other tube to his mouth._) Hallo--hallo! are you there? +Look alive with that Show o' yours, Guv'nor--we ain't got long to +stop! (_Pretends to listen, and reply._) If you give me any of your +cheek, I'll come down and punch your 'ead! (_Applies a tube to his +eye._) All right, POLLY, they've _begun_--I can see the 'ero's legs! + +_Polly_. Be quiet, can't you? I can't hold the tubes steady if you +will keep making me laugh so. (_Listening._) Oh, ALF, I can hear +singing--can't you? Isn't it lovely! + +_The Com. M._ It seems to me there's a bluebottle, or something, got +inside mine--I can 'ear _im_! + +_The Irr. P._ (_angrily, to himself_). How the deuce do they +expect--and that infernal organ in the nave has just started booming +again--they ought to send out and stop it! + +_The Chatty O.G._ (_touching his elbow_). I beg your pardon, Sir, but +can you inform me what opera it is they're performing at Manchester? +The _Prima Donna_ seems to be just finishing a song. Wonderful how one +can hear it all! + +_The Irr. P._ (_snapping_). Very wonderful indeed, under the +circumstances! (_He corks both ears with the tubes_). It's too +bad--now there's a confounded string-band beginning outs--(_Removes +the tube._) Eh, what? (_More angrily than ever._) Why, it's _in_ the +blanked thing! (_He fumbles with the tubes in trying to readjust them. +At last he succeeds, and, after listening intently, is rewarded by +hearing a muffled and ghostly voice, apparently from the bowels of the +earth, say_--"Ha, say you so? Then am I indeed the hooshiest hearsher +in the whole of Mumble-land!") + +_The Chatty O.G._ (_nudging him_). How very distinctly you hear the +dialogue, Sir, don't you? + + [_The Irritable Person, without removing the tubes, turns + and glares at him savagely, without producing the slightest + impression._ + +_Another Ghostly Voice_ (_very audibly_). The devil you are! + +_A Careful Mother_. MINNIE, put them down at _once_, do you hear? I +can't have you listening to such language. + +_Minnie_. Why, it's only at Manchester, Mother! + +_Ghostly Voices and Sounds_ (_as they reach the Irritable Person_). +"You cursed scoundrel! So it was _you_ who burstled the billiboom, was +it? Stand back, there, I'll hork every gordle in his--!" (_... Sounds +of a scuffle ... A loud female scream, and firing ..._) "What have you +done?" + +_The Ch. O.G._ Have you any sort of idea what he _has_ done, Sir? + + [_To the Irritable Person._ + +_The Irr. P._ No, Sir, and I'm not likely to have as long as-- + + [_He listens with fierce determination._ + +_First Ghostly Voice_. Stop! Hear me--I can explain everything! + +_Second Do. Do._ I will hear _nothing_, I tell you! + +_First Do. Do._ You shall--you _must_! Listen. I am the only surviving +mumble of your unshle groolier. + +_The Ch. O.G._ (_as before_). I think it must be a Melodrama and not +an Opera after all--from the language! + +_An Innocent Matron_ (_who is listening, with her eyes devoutly fixed +on the Libretto of "The Mountebanks," under the firm conviction that +she is in direct communication with the Lyric Theatre._) I always +understood _The Mountebanks_ was a _musical_ piece, my dear, didn't +you? and even as it is, they don't seem to keep very close to the +words, as far as I can follow! + +_Ghostly Voices_ (_in the Irritable Person's ear as before_). "Your +_wife_?" "Yes, my wife, and the only woman in the world I ever loved!" + +_The Irr. P._ (_pleased, to himself._) Come, now I'm getting +accustomed to it, I can hear capitally! + +_The Voices_. Then why have you--?...I will tell you all. Twenty-five +years ago, when a shinder foodle in the Borjeezlers I-- + +_A Still Small Voice_ (_in everybody's ear_). TIME, PLEASE. + +_Everybody_ (_dropping the tubes, startled._) Where did _that_ come +from? + +_The Com. M._ They've been and cut it off at the main--just when it +was getting interesting! + +_His Fiancée_. Well, I can't say I made out much of the plot myself. + +_The Com. M._ I made out enough to cover a sixpence, anyhow. You +didn't expect the telephone to explain it all to you goin' along, and +give you cawfee between the Acts, did you? + +_The Ch. O.G._ (_sidling affably up to the Irritable Person as he +is moving out_). Marvellous strides Science has made of late, Sir! +Almost incredible. I declare to _you_, while I was sitting there, I +positively felt inclined to ask myself the question-- + +_The Irr. P._ Allow me to say, Sir, that another time, if you will +obey that inclination, and put the question to yourself instead of +other people, you will be a more desirable neighbour in a Telephone +Room than, I confess I found you! + + [_He turns on his heel, indignantly._ + +_The Ch. O.G._ (_to himself_). 'Strordinary what unsociable people one +_does_ come across at times! Now I 'm always ready to talk to anybody, +I am--don't care _who_ they are. Well--well-- [_He walks on, musing._ + + * * * * * + +[Illustration: QUITE NATURAL. + +_Mamma._ "ETHEL DEAR, WHY WON'T YOU SAY GOOD-BYE TO THIS GENTLEMAN? HE +IS VERY KIND!" + +_Ethel._ "BECAUSE, MUMMY DEAR, YOU TOLD HIM JUST NOW HE IS 'THE LION +OF THE SEASON,'--AND I AM SO FRIGHTENED!"] + + * * * * * + +"DE PROFUNDIS." + +(_BY AN INDIGNANT "OUTSIDER."_) + + A masterpiece, worthy of TURNER, + Was mine, there my friends all agree, + No work of a pot-boiling learner, + My "_View on the Dee_." + + A place on the line I expected, + Associate shortly to be! + Hang me, if it isn't rejected, + And marked with a D! + + I will not repeat what I uttered + When this was reported to me; + The mere monosyllable muttered + Begins with a D. + + * * * * * + +ON THE (POST) CARDS. + + ["Sir JAMES FERGUSSON does not hesitate to declare his opinion + that rudeness or incivility on the part of a Post-Office + servant is, next to dishonesty, one of the worst offences + he can commit. This notice is not addressed to men alone. + Of the young women employed by the department, there are, he + says, some, if not many, whom it is impossible to acquit of + inattention and levity in the discharge of their official + duties. It is Sir JAMES FERGUSSON's intention to ascertain, at + short intervals, the effect of this notice on the behaviour of + Post-Office officials generally."--_Daily Paper_.] + + SCENE--_Interior of a Post Office. Female Employees engaged + in congenial pursuits._ + +_First Emp._ (_ending story_). And so she never got the bouquet, after +all, and he went to Margate, without even saying good-bye. + +_Second Emp._ (_her Friend_). Well, that was hard upon her! + +_First Member of the Public_ (_entering briskly and putting coppers on +the counter_). Now then, three penny stamps, please! + +_First Emp._ (_to her Friend_). Yes, as you say, it _was_ hard, as of +course the matter of the pic-nic was no affair of hers. + +_Second Emp._ (_sympathetically_). Of course not! They are all alike, +my dear!--all alike! + +_First Mem. of the Pub._ (_impatiently_). Now then, three penny stamps +please! + +_First Emp._ Well, you are in a hurry! (_To her Friend_). And from +that day to this she has never heard from him. + +_Second Emp._ And it would have been so easy to drop her a postcard +from Herne Bay. + +_First Mem. of the Pub._ Am I to be kept waiting all day? Three penny +postage-stamps, please. + +_First Emp._ (_leisurely_). What do you want? + +_First Mem. of the Pub._ (_angrily_). Three penny postage-stamps, and +look sharp about it! + +_First Emp._ (_giving stamp_). Threepence. + +_First Mem. of the Pub._ (_furious_). A threepenny stamp! I want three +penny stamps. Three stamps costing a penny each. See? + +_First Emp._ (_with calm unconcern_). Then why didn't you say so +before? (_Supplies stamps and turns to Friend._) Then MARIA of course +wanted to go to Birchington. + +_Second Emp._ Why Birchington? Why did she want to go to Birchington? + +_First Emp._ Well--_he_ of course was at Herne Bay. + +_Second Emp._ Ah, now I begin to understand her artfulness. + +_First Emp._ Ah, there you are right, my dear! She _was_ artful! + + [_Enter Second Member of the Public, covered up in cloaks and + only showing the tip of his nose._ + +_Second Mem. of the Pub._ (_in a feeble voice_). Can you tell me, +please, when the Mail starts for India? + +_First Emp._ Well, the sea air _is_ the sea air. And that reminds me, +what do you think of this tobacco-pouch for-- + +_Second Emp._ (_archly_). For I know who! Why, you have got his +initials in forget-me-nots! + +_First Emp._ I think them so pretty, and they are very easy to do. + +_Second Mem. of the Pub._ (_in a rather louder voice_). Can you tell +me, please, when the Mail starts for India? + +_Second Emp._ I must say, dear, you have the most perfect taste. +Well, he will be ungrateful if he isn't charmed with them! Absolutely +charmed! + +_Second Mem, of the Pub._ (_louder still_). Will you be so good as to +say when the Mail starts for India? + +_First Emp._ Oh, you _are_ in a hurry! (_To Friend._) Yes, I took +a lot of trouble in getting the gold beads. There is only one place +where you can get them. They don't sell them at the Stores. + +_Second Mem. of the Pub._ (_in a loud tone of voice_). Again I ask you +when the Mail leaves for India? + +_Second Emp._ And yet you can get almost anything you want there. Only +it's a terrible nuisance going from one place to another. + +_Second Mem. of the Pub._ (_in a voice of thunder_). Silence! You are +an impudent set! You are calculated to injure the class to whom you +belong! I am ashamed of you! + +_First Emp._ And who may you be? + +_Second Mem. of the Pub._ Whom may I be? I will tell you! (_Throws off +his disguise_.) I am the Postmaster-General!!! + + [_Scene closes in upon a tableau suggestive of astonishment, + contrition and excitement._ + + * * * * * + +ITS LATEST APPLICATION.--Chorus for Royal Academicians, for Monday +next:--"Ta-R.A.-R.A.-Boom-to-day!" + + * * * * * + +[Illustration: HISTORY EXAMS. + +(_Effects on Education of Modern Advertising._) + +"WHO WAS BORN IN CORSICA?" (_Silence._) "TRY AND THINK--AND DIED IN +ST. HELENA?" + +"OH, OF COURSE--I KNOW! THE GREAT SAPOLIO!"] + + * * * * * + +TO THE NEW "QUEEN OF THE MAY". + +(A HYMN OF HONEST LABOUR.) + +_After the Proclamation of the Anarchist Manifestoes, (With Apologies +to the Author of the magnificent "Hymn to Proserpine.")_ + + ["For the third time the International mobilises its + battalions.... Already the mere mention of the magical word + 'May-Day' throws the _bourgeoisie_ into a state of nervous + trembling, and its cowardice only finds refuge in cynicism and + ferocity. But whether the wretch (the _bourgeoisie_) likes + it or not, the end draws nigh. Capitalist robbery is going + to perish in mud and shame.... The conscious proletariat + organises itself, and marches towards its emancipation. + You can have it all your own way presently; proletarians + of the whole world, serfs of the factory, the men of the + workshop, the office, and the shop, who are mercilessly + exploited and pitilessly assassinated.... For, lo! '93 + reappears on the horizon.... 'Vive l'Internationale + des Travailleurs!'"--_Manifesto of the May-Day Labour + Demonstration Executive Committee_.] + + Have we lived long enough to have seen one thing, that hate hath + no end? + Goddess, and maiden, and queen, must we hail _you_ as Labour's + true friend?-- + Will you give us a prosperous morrow, and comfort the millions who + weep? + Will you give them joy for their sorrow, sweet labour, and + satisfied sleep? + Sweet is the fragrance of flowers, and soft are the wings of the + dove, + And no goodlier gift is there given than the dower of brotherly + love; + But you, O May-Day Medusa, whose glance makes the heart turn cold, + Art a bitter Goddess to follow, a terrible Queen to behold. + We are sick of spouting--the words burn deep and chafe: we are fain, + To rest a little from clap-trap, and probe the wild promise of gain. + For new gods we know not of are acclaimed by all babbledom's breath, + And they promise us love-inspired life--by the red road of hatred + and death. + The gods, dethroned and deceased, cast forth--so the chatterers + say-- + Are banished with Flora and Pan, and behold our new Queen of the + May! + New Queen, fresh crowned in the city, flower-drest, her + snake-sceptre a rod, + Her orb a decked dynamite bomb, which shall shatter all earth at + her nod; + But for us their newest device seems barren, and did they but dare + To bare the new Queen of the May, were she angel or demon _when_ + bare? + + Time and old gods are at strife; we dwell in the midst thereof, + And they are but foolish who curse, and they are but shallow who + scoff. + Let hate die out, take rest, poor workers, be all at peace; + Let the angry battle abate, and the barren bitterness cease! + Ah, pleasant and pastoral picture! Thrice welcome whoever shall + bring + The sunshine of love after Winter, the blossoms of joy with the + Spring! + Wilt THOU bring it, O new May Queen? If thou canst, come and rule + us, and take + The laurel, the palm, and the pæan; all bondage but thine we would + break, + And welcome the branch and the dove. But we look, and we hold our + breath, + That is not the visage of Love, and beneath the piled blossoms + lurks--Death! + + A Society all of Love and of Brotherhood! Beautiful dream! + But alas for this Promise of May! Do not Labour's Floralia seem + As flower-feasts fair to her followers? Look on the wreaths at her + feet, + Flung by enthusiast hands from the mine, and the mill, and the + street, + Piled flower-offerings, thine, Proletariat Queen of the May! + And what means the new Bona Dea? and what would her suppliants say? + Organised strength, solidarity, power to band and to strike, + Hope that is native to Spring,--and Hate, in all seasons alike; + Mutual trust of the many--and menace malign for the few. + Citizen, capitalist,--ah! the hours of _your_ empire seem few, + An empire ill-gendered, unjust, blindly selfish, and heartlessly + strong + For the crushing of famishing weakness, the rearing of + wealth-founded wrong. + Few, if these throngs have their will, for the fierce proletariat + throbs + For revenge on the full-fed _Bourgeoisie_ which ruthlessly harries + and robs. + 'Tis fired with alarms, and it arms with hot haste for the + imminent fray, + For it quakes at the tramp of King Mob, and the thought of this + Queen of the May. + The bandit of Capital falls, and shall perish in shame and in filth! + The harvest of Labour's at hand!--The harvest; but red is the + And the reapers are wrathful and rash, and the swift-wielded + sickle that strives + For the sheaves, not the gleaners' scant ears, seems agog for the + reaping of--lives! + Assassins of Capital? Aye! And their weakening force will ye mee + With assassins of Labour? Shall Brotherhood redden the field and + the street? + Beware of the bad black old lesson! Behold, and look close, and + beware! + There are flowers at your newly-built shrine, is the evil old + serpent not there? + +[Illustration: THE NEW "QUEEN OF THE MAY."] + + The sword-edge and snake-bite, though hidden in blossoms, are + hatred's old arms. + And what is your May Queen at heart, oh, true hearts, that succumb + to her charms? + Dropped and deep in the blossoms, with eyes that flicker like fir + The asp of Murder lies hid, which with poison shall feed your + desire. + More than these things will she give, who looks fairer than all + these things? + Not while her sceptre's a snake, and her orb the red horror that + rings + Devilish, foul, round the world; while the hiss and the roar are + the voice + Of this monstrous new Queen of the May, in whose rule you would + bid us rejoice. + + * * * * * + +MR. PUNCH'S UP-TO-DATE POETRY FOR CHILDREN. + +NO. II.--"LITTLE JACK HORNER." + +[Illustration] + + LITTLE JACK HORNER, + He sat in the corner, + And cried for his "Mummy!" and "Nuss!" + For, while eating his cake, + He had got by mistake + In a horrid piratical 'bus. + + Now, some ten minutes back, + You'd have seen little JACK + From an Aërated Bread Shop emerge, + And proceed down the Strand-- + Slice of cake in his hand-- + In a crumb-covered suit of blue serge. + + To be perfectly frank, + He was bound for the Bank, + For it chanced to be dividend day, + And he jumped on the 'bus, + After reasoning thus-- + In his logical juvenile way:-- + + "Here's a 'bus passing by, + And I cannot see why + I should weary my infantile feet; + I've a copper to spare, + And the authorised fare + Is a penny to Liverpool Street." + + As the 'bus cantered on, + Little cake-eating JOHN + In the corner contentedly sat, + And with that one and this + (Whether Mister or Miss) + Had a meteorological chat. + + Came a bolt from the blue + When, collecting his due, + The conductor remarked, "Though I thank + That young cake-eating gent + For the penny he's sent, + It's a _tuppenny_ ride to the Bank!" + + "You're a pirate!" sobbed JACK, + "And your colours are black!" + But he heard--as he struggled to speak-- + The conductor observe, + With remarkable verve, + That he didn't want none of his cheek! + + With a want of regard, + He demanded JACK's card. + And young HORNER was summoned next day, + When the poor little lad + Lost the battle, and had + All the costs in addition to pay. + + Now the Moral is this: + Little Master and Miss, + Whom I'm writing these verses to please; + If your tiny feet ache, + Then a 'bus you may take, + _But be sure it's an L.G.O.C.'s!_ + + * * * * * + +A CURSORY OBSERVATION. + +From the _Figaro_ for Dimanche, April 17, we make this extract:-- + + "SPORTS ATHLÉTIQUES.--Le match international de foot ball + entre le Stade Français et le Rosslyn Park foot ball Club de + Londres sera joué demain sur le terrain du Cursing Club de + France à Levallois. L'équipe anglaise est arrivée à Paris hier + soir. Le match sera présidé par le marquis de Dufferin." + +"The Cursing Club!" What an awful name! For what purpose are they +banded together? Is it to curse one another by their gods? to issue +forth on _premières_ to damn a new play? What fearful language would +be just audible, curses, not loud but deep, during the progress of +the Foot-ball Match over which the Marquis of DUFFERIN is to preside! +It is all over by now; but the result we have not seen. We hope there +is no Cursing Club in England. There existed, once upon a time, in +London, a Club with an awful Tartarian name, which might have been a +parent society to a Cursing Club. Let us trust-- + + [*** The Editor puts short the article at this point, being + of opinion that "Cursing" is only a misprint for "Coursing;" + or, if not, he certainly gives _Le Figaro_ the benefit of the + doubt. Note, also, that the match was to be played on "Cursing + Club Ground," lent for the occasion, and was not to be played + by Members of the "C.C."] + + * * * * * + +THE LAY OF THE LITERARY AUTOLYCUS. + +(_SEE CORRESPONDENCE IN THE TIMES ON "LITERARY THEFTS."_) + +_Enter AUTOLYCUS, singing._ + + When books and magazines appear, + With heigh! the hopes of a big sale!-- + Why, then comes in the cheat o' the year, + And picks their plums, talk, song, or tale. + + The white sheets come, each page my "perk," + With heigh! sweet bards, O how they sing!-- + With paste and scissors I set to work; + Shall a stolen song cost anything? + + The Poet tirra-lirra chants, + With heigh! with heigh! he _must_ be a J.-- + His Summer songs supply my wants; + They cost me nought--but, ah! they _pay_. + +I have served Literature in my time, but now Literature is in _my_ +service. + + But shall I pay for what comes dear, + To the pale scribes who write,-- + For news, and jokes, and stories queer? + Walker! my friends, not quite! + Since filchers may have leave to live, + And vend their "borrowed" budget, + For all my "notions" nix I'll give, + Then sell them as I trudge it. + +My traffic is (news) sheets. My father named me AUTOLYCUS, who, +being as I am, littered under Mercury, was likewise a snapper-up +of unconsidered trifles. With paste and scissors I procured this +caparison; and my revenue is the uninquiring public; gallows and gaol +are too powerful on the highway; picking and treadmilling are terrors +to burglars; but in _my_ line of theft I sleep free from the thought +of them. A prize! a prize!... + + Jog on, jog on, the foot-pad way, + In the modern Sikes's style-a: + Punctilious fools prefer to _pay_; + But I at scruples smile-a. + +... Ha, ha! what a fool Honesty is! and Trust, his sworn brother, a +very simple gentleman ... I understand the business, do it; to have an +open ear, a quick eye, and a nimble hand with the shears is necessary +for a (literary) cutpurse; a good nose is requisite also, to smell out +the good work of other people. I see this is the time that the unjust +man doth thrive. + + * * * * * + +THE WELLINGTON MONUMENT. + +[Illustration] + + At last! How long ago the time + When England's paltry meanness killed + Her greatest Sculptor in his prime. + And hid his work, now called sublime, + In narrow space so nearly filled! + + When, using Art beyond her taste, + Her greatest Captain's tomb he wrought, + That noblest effort was disgraced,-- + It seemed to her a needless waste, + The Budget Surplus was her thought. + + Now may she, with some sense of shame, + Amend the errors of the past, + Show honour to the Great Duke's name, + Repair the wrong to STEPHENS' fame, + And move the Monument at last! + + * * * * * + +"KNOW ALL MEN BY THESE PRESENTS." + +It is believed that the Rossendale Union of Liberal Clubs, having +given a pair of slippers, a rug, and two pieces of cretonne to Mr. +GLADSTONE, will also make the following presents, in due course:-- + +_Sir W. L-ws-n._--Twelve dozen Tea-cosies, and ten yards of blue +Ribbon. + +_Mr. L-b-ch-re._--A Jester's cap. + +_Sir W.V. H-rc-rt._--A Spencer, without arms, but emblazoned with +those of the Plantagenets. + +_Mr. M-cl-re._--A Hood. + +_Mr. McN-ll._--A knitted Respirator, to be worn in the House. + +_Lord R. Ch-rch-ll._--Twelve dozen table-cloths, twenty-four dozen +Dinner-napkins, and thirty-six dozen Pudding-cloths. + +_Sir E. Cl-rke._--A scarlet Jersey, inscribed "Salvation Army." + +_Mr. R. Sp-nc-r._--A Smock Frock. + +_Mr. B-lf-r._--Some Collars of Irish linen, and one of hemp, the +latter to be supplied by the Irish patriots in America. + +_Mr. E. St-nh-pe._--A Necktie of green poplin, embroidered with +shamrocks. + +_Mr. M. H-ly._--An Ulster. + +_Col. S-nd-rs-n._--A Cork jacket. + +_Mr. W. O'Br-n._--A pair of Tr----rs, in fancy cretonne. + +_Sir G.O. Tr-v-ly-n._--A Coat (reversible). + +_Mr. C. C-nyb-re._--A Waistcoat (strait). + + * * * * * + +[Illustration: "UNDERSTOOD." + +"I SAY, DUBOIS, YOU _DO_ KNOW HOW TO LAY IT ON THICK, OLD MAN! I +LIKE YOUR CHEEK TELLING MISS BROWN SHE SPOKE FRENCH WITHOUT THE LEAST +ACCENT!" + +"VY, CERTAINEMENT, MON AMI--VIZOUT ZE LEAST _FRENCH_ ACCENT!"] + + * * * * * + +"THE (SOLDIERS') LIFE WE LIVE." + +(_Imaginary Evidence that should be added to the Report of Lord +Wantage's Committee._) + +_Chairman._ I think your name is RICHARD REDMOND? + +_Witness._ I beg pardon, my Lord and Gentlemen--DICK REDMOND--simple, +gushing, explosive DICK. + +_Chair._ Have you been known by any other name? + +_Wit._ Off duty, my Lord, I have been called CHARLES WARNER. Nay, +why should I not confess it?--CHARLIE WARNER. Yes, my Lord, CHARLIE +WARNER! + +_Chair._ You wish to describe how you were enlisted? + +_Wit._ Yes, my Lord. It was in this way. I had returned from +some races in a dog-cart with a villain. We stopped at a wayside +public-house kept by a comic Irishman. + +_Chair._ Are these details necessary? + +_Wit._ Hear me, my Lord; hear me! I confess it, I took too much to +drink. Yes, my Lord, I was drunk! And then a Sergeant in the Dragoon +Guards gave me a shilling, and placed some ribands in my pot-hat, +and--well--I was a soldier! Yes, a soldier! And as a soldier was +refused permission to visit my dying mother! + +_Chair._ Were there no other legal formalities in connection with +your enlistment? For instance--Were you not taken before an attesting +Magistrate? + +_Wit._ No, my Lord, no! I was carried off protesting, while my +villanous friend disappeared with my sweetheart! It was cruel, my Lord +and Gentlemen! It was very cruel! + +_Chair._ Did you desert? + +_Wit._ I did, my Lord--after I had obtained a uniform fitting closely +to the figure; but it was only that I might obtain the blessing of my +mother! And when I returned home the soldiers followed me--and might +have killed me! + +_Chair._ How was that? + +_Wit._ When I had taken refuge in a haystack, they prodded the +haystack with their swords! And this is life in the Army! + +_Chair._ Were you arrested on discovery? + +_Wit._ No; they spared me that indignity! They saw, my Lord, that my +mother was dying, and respectfully fell back while I assisted the old +Lady to pass away peacefully. But then, after all, they were men. In +spite of their red patrol jackets, brass helmets, and no spurs, they +were men, my Lord,--men! And, as soldiers, after I had broken from +prison, and was accused of murder, they again released me, because +some one promised to buy my discharge! + +_Chair._ And where are you quartered? + +_Wit._ At the Royal Princess's Theatre, Oxford Street, where I have +these strange experiences of discipline, and where I am enlisted in +the unconventional, not to say illegal, way I have described, nightly; +nay, sometimes twice daily! + +_Chair._ And why have you proffered your evidence? + +_Wit._ Because I think the Public ought to know, my Lord, the great +services afforded by the most recent Melodrama to the popularity of +the Army, and--yes, the cause of recruiting! + + [_The Witness then withdrew._ + + * * * * * + +HOW THEY BRING THE GOOD NEWS! + + All the papers teeming + With, the news of DEEMING + On the shore or ship; + Telling of his tearing + Hair that he was wearing + From his upper lip. + + (T-SS-D, rush! Pursue it! + Buy it, bring it, glue it + On your model! Quick!) + Telling how he's looking, + How he likes the cooking,-- + Bah, it makes one sick! + + Telling of his bearing, + How the crowds are staring, + What may be his fate, + Just what clothes he wore the + Days he came before the + Local Magistrate. + + And, verbatim printed + All he's said or hinted + As to any deeds; + Such a chance as this is + Not a paper misses! + Everybody reads! + + Would they give such latest + News of best and greatest + Folks? What's that you say? + Who would read of virtue, + Or such news insert? You + Know it would not pay. + + So, demand creating + Such supply, they're stating + All that they can tell; + Spite of School-Board teaching, + Culture, science, preaching, + This is sure to sell. + + * * * * * + +[Illustration: THE END OF THE SEASON. AU REVOIR!] + + * * * * * + +[Illustration: STAIRCASE SCENES.--NO. 1. PRIVATE VIEW, ROYAL ACADEMY.] + + * * * * * + +THE YOUNG GIRL'S COMPANION. + +(_BY MRS. PAYLEY,_) + +II.--DINING-OUT. + +I can quite understand that a young girl may not care much for the +mere material dinner. The palate is a pleasure of maturity. The +woman of fifty probably includes a menu or two among her most sacred +memories; but the young girl is capable of dining on part of a cutlet, +any pink sweetmeat, and some tea. But I must confess that I was +surprised at another objection to dining-out that a young girl, only +at the end of her second season, once made to me. She said that she +positively could not stand any longer the conversation of the average +young man of Society. I asked her why, and she then asserted that this +sort of young man confined himself to flat badinage and personal brag, +which he was mistaken in believing to be veiled. What she said was, +of course, perfectly true. Civilisation is responsible for the flat +badinage, for civilisation requires that conversation shall be light +and amusing, but can provide no remedy for slow wits; on the other +hand, the personal brag is a relic of the original man. The badinage +is the young man's defect in art; the brag is his defect in nature. +But I fail to see any objection to such conversation; on the contrary, +it is charming because it _is_ so average; you know beforehand just +what you will hear and just what you will say, and everything is +consequently made easy. The man puts on that kind of talk just as +he puts on his dress-coat; both are part of the evening uniform. The +motto of the perfect young man of Society is "I resemble." I pointed +all this out to the young girl in question, and she retorted that +it was a pity that silence was a lost art. However, she continued to +dine-out and to take her part in the only possible conversation, and +after all Society rather encourages theoretical rebellion, provided +that it is accompanied by practical submission. + +[Illustration] + +From the point of view of sentiment, a dinner has less potentialities +than a dance; but the dinner may begin what the dance will end; you +set light to the fuse in the dining-room, and the explosion takes +place six weeks afterwards in someone-else's conservatory. Nothing +much can be done on the staircase; but, if you can decently pretend +that you have heard of the young man who is taking you in, he will +probably like it. If, after a few minutes, you decide that it is +worth while to interest the young man, discourage his flat badinage, +and encourage his personal brag. The only thing in which it is quite +certain that every man will be interested is, the interest someone +else takes in him. Later on, he will probably be induced to illustrate +the topic of conversation by telling you (if it would not bore you) +of a little incident which happened to himself. The incident will be +prettily coloured for dinner-table use, and he will make the story +prove a merit in himself, which he will take care to disclaim vainly. +When he has finished, look very meditatively at your plate, as if you +saw visions in it, and then turn on him suddenly with wide eyes--with +the right kind of eyelashes, this is effective. + +"I suppose you don't know it, Mr. BLANK," you tell him, "but really I +can't help saying it. You behaved splendidly--splendidly!" + +Droop the eyelashes quickly, and become meditative again. He will +deprecate your compliment a little incoherently. + +"Not at all, not at all--Miss--er--ASTERISK--I really--assure +you--nothing more than any--er--other man would have done. Some +other people at the time told me"--(_laughs nervously_)--"very +much--er--what you have just said, but--er--personally, +I--really--could never see it, or of course I wouldn't have mentioned +it to you." + +Your rejoinder will depend a good deal on how far you mean to go, and +how much of that kind of thing you think you can stand. If you like, +you can drop your handkerchief or your glove when you rise; it will +please him to pick it up for you, and he will feel, for a moment, as +if he had saved your life. + +If you do not want to please the man, but only to show your own +superiority, it may perhaps be as well to remember that women are +better than men, as a rule, in flat badinage. Men talk best when they +are by themselves, but they are liable to be painfully natural at such +times. I had some little difficulty in finding this out, but I thought +it my duty to know, and--well, I _do_ know. + +The correspondence that I have received has not been altogether +pleasant. I have had one letter from ETHEL (aged thirteen) saying that +she thinks me a mean sneak for prying into other people's Diaries. +I can only reply that I was acting for the public good. I have had +a sweet letter, however, from "AZALEA." She has been absolutely +compelled, by force of circumstances, to allow the distinct attentions +of three different men. She does not give the names of the men, only +descriptions, but I should advise her to keep the dark one. She can +see the will at Somerset House. "JANE" writes to ask what is the best +cure for freckles. I do not answer questions of that kind. I have +replied to my other correspondents privately. + + * * * * * + +REPULSING THE AMAZONS. + +(_SEE CARTOON, "ARMING THE AMAZONS," DEC. 5, 1891._) + +[Illustration] + + Arming the Amazons against the Greeks? + That PRIAM SALISBURY tried some few short weeks + Before the present fray. FAWCETTA fair + Had prayed; the question then seemed "in the air," + And PRIAM proffered then the Franchise-spear, + (A shadowy one, that gave no grounds for fear,) + To poor PENTHESILEA. + Now, ah, now + ROLLITTUS moves, there's going to be a row, + And lo! the mingled ranks of Greece and Troy + Close 'gainst the Amazons. Her steed, a toy, + A hobby-horse, that any maid may mount, + Is not--just now--of any great account. + Her phantom spear will pierce no stout male mail; + But should ROLLITTUS _not_--(confound him!)--fail, + A female host, well armed, and _not_ on hobbies, + Might prove as dangerous as a batch of Bobbies. + The fair FAWCETTA then must be thrown over; + PENTHESILEA finds no hero-lover + In either host. PRIAM, abroad, is dumb. + Ah, maiden-hosts, man's love for you's a hum. + Each fears you--in the foeman's cohorts thrown, + But _neither side desires you in its own!_ + The false GLADSTONIUS first, he whom you nourish, + A snake in your spare bosoms, dares to flourish + Fresh arms against you; potent, though polite, + He fain would bow you out of the big fight, + Civilly shelve you. "Don't kick up a row, + And--spoil my game! Another day, not now, + There's a _dear_ creature!" CHAMBERLAINIUS, too, + Hard as a nail, and squirmy as a screw, + Sides with the elder hero, just for once; + CHAPLINIUS also, active for the nonce + On the Greek side, makes up the Traitrous Three, + One from each faction! Ah! 'tis sad to see + PENTHESILEA, fierce male foes unite + In keeping female warriors from the fight; + Yet think, look round, and--you _may_ find they're right! + + * * * * * + +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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C. Burnand</h1> +<pre> +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 <a href = "https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a></pre> +<p>Title: Punch, or the London Charivari, Vol. 102, April 30, 1892</p> +<p>Author: Various</p> +<p>Release Date: December 31, 2004 [eBook #14544]</p> +<p>Language: English</p> +<p>Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1</p> +<p>***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI, VOL. 102, APRIL 30, 1892***</p> +<br /><br /><h3>E-text prepared by Malcolm Farmer, William Flis,<br /> + and the Project Gutenberg Online Distributed Proofreading Team</h3><br /><br /> +<hr class="full" /> + <h1>PUNCH,<br /> + OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.</h1> + + <h2>Vol. 102.</h2> + <hr class="full" /> + + <h2>April 30, 1892.</h2> + <hr class="full" /> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page205" + id="page205"></a>[pg 205]</span> + + <h2>MR. PUNCH'S HEBRIDEAN SALMON-FLY BOOK.</h2> + + <h3>STRANGE ADVENTURES OF A PEN-HOLDER.</h3> + + <blockquote> + <p>(<i>By Wullie White, Author of "They Taught Her to + Death" "A Pauper in Tulle," "My Cloudy Glare," "Green + Pasterns in Picalilli," "Ran Fast to Royston," &c., + &c., &c.</i>)</p> + </blockquote> + + <p>["I now send you," writes this popular and delightful + Author, "the latest of the Novels in which I mingle delicate + sentiment with Hebridean or Highland scenery, and bring the + wisdom of a Londoner to bear directly upon the unsophisticated + innocence of a kilt-wearing population. I am now republishing + my books in a series. I'll take short odds about my + salmon-flies as compared with anyone else's, and am prepared to + back my sunsets and cloud-effects against the world. No takers. + I thought not. Here goes!"]</p> + + <h4>CHAPTER I.</h4> + + <div class="figright" + style="width:50%;"> + <a href="images/205.png"><img width="100%" + src="images/205.png" + alt="" /></a> + </div> + + <p>I held it in my right hand, toying with it curiously, and + not without pleasure. It was merely a long, wooden pen-holder, + inky and inert to an unappreciative eye, but to me it was a + bright magician, skilled in the painting of glowing pictures, a + traveller in many climes, a tried and trusted friend, who had + led me safely through many strange adventures and much uncouth + dialect. "Old friend," I said, addressing it kindly, "shall you + and I set out together on another journey? We have seen many + countries, and the faces of many men, and yet, though we are + advancing in years, the time has not yet come for me to lay you + down, as having no need of you. What say you—shall we + start once more?" I hear a confused sound as of men who murmur + together, and say, "We have supped full of horrors, and have + waded chin-deep in Zulu blood; we have followed the Clergy of + the Established Church into the recesses of terrible crimes, + and have endured them as they bared their too sensitive + consciences to our gaze. We pine for simpler, and more + wholesome pleasures. Now," I continued, "if only Queen TITA and + the rest will help us, I think we can do something to satisfy + this clamour." For all answer, my pen-holder nestled lovingly + in my hand. I placed my patent sunset-nib in its mouth, waved + it twice, dipped it once, and began.</p> + + <h4>CHAPTER II.</h4> + + <p>The weary day was at length sinking peacefully to rest + behind the distant hills. The packed and tumbled clouds lay + heavily towards the West, where a gaunt jagged tower of rock + rose sheer into the sky. And lo! suddenly a broad shaft of + blood-red light shot through the brooding cumulus and rested + gorgeously upon the landscape. On each side of this a thin + silvery veil of mist crept slowly up and hung in impalpable + folds. The Atlantic sand stretching away to the North shone + with the effulgence of burnished copper. And now brilliant + flickers of coloured light, saffron, purple, green and rose + danced over the heaven's startled face. The piled clouds opened + and showed in the interspace a lurid lake of blood tinged with + the pale violet of an Irishwoman's eyes. Great pillars of flame + sprang up rebelliously and spread over the burning horizon. + Then a strange, soft, yellow and vaporous light raised its + twelve bore breech-loading ejector to its shoulder and shot + across the Cryanlaughin hills, and the cattle shone red in the + green pastures, and everything else glowed, and the whole world + burned with the bewildering glare of a stout publican's nose in + a London fog. And silence came down upon the everlasting hills + whose outlines gleamed in a prismatic—</p> + + <p>"That will do," said a mysterious Voice, "the paint-box is + exhausted!"</p> + + <h4>CHAPTER III.</h4> + + <p>I was shocked at this rude interruption.</p> + + <p>"Sir!" I said, "I cannot see you, though I hear your voice. + Will you not disclose yourself?"</p> + + <p>"Nonsense, man," said the aggravating, but invisible one, + "do not waste time. Let us get on with the story. You know what + comes next. <i>Revenons à nos saumons.</i> Ha, Ha! spare the + rod and spoil the book!"</p> + + <p>I was vexed, but I had to obey, and this was the result:</p> + + <p>The pools were full of gleaming curves of silver, each one + belonging to a separate salmon of gigantic size fresh run from + the sea. The foaming Black Water tumbled headlong over its + rocks and down its narrow channel. DONALD, the big keeper, + stood industriously upon the bank arranging flies. "I hef been + told," he observed, "tat ta English will be coming to + Styornoway, and there will be no more Gaelic spoken. But + perhaps it iss not true, for they will tell many lies. I am a + teffle of a liar myself."</p> + + <p>And lo! as we watched, the grey sky seemed to be split in + two by an invisible wedge, and a purple gleam of light + shot—</p> + + <p>"Stow that!" said the Voice, "I have allowed you to put in a + patch of Gaelic, but I really cannot let you do any more + sun-pictures. Try and think that it is a close time for + landscapes, and don't let the light shoot again for a bit."</p> + + <p>"All right," I retorted, not without annoyance, "but you'll + just have to make up your mind to lose that salmon. It was a + magnificent forty-pounder, and, if it hadn't been for your + ridiculous interruption, we should have landed him splendidly + in another six pages."</p> + + <p>"As you like," said the Voice.</p> + + <h4>CHAPTER IV.</h4> + + <p>And now our journey was drawing to a close. Out of the + solemn hush of the purple mountains we had passed slowly + southwards back to the roar and the turmoil of the London + streets. And many friends had said farewell to us. SHEILA with + her low, sweet brow, her exquisitely curved lips, and her soft + blue eyes had held us enraptured, and we had wept with + COQUETTE, and fiercely cheered the WHAUP while he held WATTIE + by the heels, and made him say a sweer. And we had talked with + MACLEOD and grown mournful with Madcap VIOLET, and had seen + many another fresh and charming face, and had talked Gaelic + with gusto and discrimination. And Queen TITA had sped with us, + and we had adored BELLE, and yet we cried for more. But now the + dream-journey was past, and lo! suddenly the whole heaven was + blazing with light, and a bright saffron band lay + across—</p> + + <p>"Steady there!" said the Voice. "Remember your promise!"</p> + + <center> + THE END. + </center> + <hr /> + + <h3>SAINTS OR SINNERS?</h3> + + <h4>[BY SPECIAL WIRE.]</h4> + + <p>MELBOURNE.—It is said, on good authority, that the + favourite books of the interesting prisoner now in custody are, + the <i>Pilgrim's Progress</i>, an Australian Summary of the + <i>Newgate Calendar</i>, and the poetry of the late Dr. Watts. + He has also expressed himself as pleased with Mrs. Humphrey + Ward's latest work of fiction, though he does not quite approve + of the theological opinions of the writer.</p> + + <p>PARIS, <i>Tuesday</i>.—The supposed author of the + dynamite outrages, is the recipient of numerous presents in + prison, sent him by male and female admirers, and persons + anxious for his conversion and his autograph. The edition of + <i>Thomas à Kempis</i>, recently given him, is a most valuable + antique copy; but he complains of the print as unsuited to his + eyesight.</p> + + <p>MELBOURNE. <i>Later</i>.—The Solicitor engaged on + behalf of our interesting prisoner has requested the Government + to allow a commission, consisting of the medical + superintendents at Broadmore, Hanwell and Colney Hatch, with + six other English experts in insanity, to come out to Australia + to inquire into the mental condition of the prisoner. A + telegram has also been despatched to Lord SALISBURY requesting + that the LORD CHIEF JUSTICE OF ENGLAND and an Old Bailey Jury + may be sent out to try the case; otherwise there will be "no + chance of justice being done." The British PREMIER's reply has + not yet been received. It is believed that he is consulting Mr. + GOSCHEN about the probable cost of such a step.</p> + + <p>MELBOURNE. <i>Latest</i>.—Through the instrumentality + of an Official connected with the prison, I am enabled to send + you some important information concerning our prisoner which + you may take as absolutely authentic. His breakfast this + morning consisted of buttered toast, coffee, and poached eggs. + He complained that the latter were not new-laid, and became + very excited. It has also transpired that he is strangely in + favour of Imperial Federation, and he has declared to his + gaolers that "The friendship between England and her Colonies + ought to be cemented." This expression of opinion has created a + profound sensation.</p> + <hr /> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page206" + id="page206"></a>[pg 206]</span> + + <h2>THE POINT OF VIEW.</h2> + + <h4>(<i>As Private Tommy Atkins puts it to his Comrade + Bill.</i>)</h4> + + <blockquote class="note"> + <p>[In the Report of Lord WANTAGE's Committee, it appears + that our Home Army costs seventeen and a-half millions per + annum. The Duke of CAMBRIDGE doubts if we could rapidly + mobilise one Army Corps. Sir EVELYN WOOD holds half the men + under him at Aldershot are not equal to doing a day's + service, even in England. The Duke of CONNAUGHT says half + the battalions under his command are no good for service, + cannot even carry their kits, and are not fit to march. + Lord WOLSELEY, it is stated, compares the British Army to a + "squeezed lemon."]</p> + </blockquote> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>"Squeezed lemon!" <i>That's</i> encouraging!</p> + + <p class="i2">Wish Wolseley knew 'ow much it's pleased + us.</p> + + <p>I'd like to arsk <i>one</i> little thing:</p> + + <p class="i2">I wonder who it is who's squeezed us?</p> + + <p>The whole Report's a thing to cheer;</p> + + <p class="i2">Makes us feel proud and pleased, oh! + very!</p> + + <p>And won't the bloomin' furrineer</p> + + <p class="i2">Over our horacles make merry?</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Costs seventeen millions and a arf,</p> + + <p class="i2">And carn't go nowhere, nor do + nothink!</p> + + <p>That tots it up! They wouldn't charf,</p> + + <p class="i2">Eh, BILL, these Big Wigs! What do + <i>you</i> think?</p> + + <p>Therefore, we're just a useless lot.</p> + + <p class="i2">After pipe-claying and + stiff-starching,</p> + + <p>We <i>might</i> be good for stopping shot,</p> + + <p class="i2">Only that we're not fit for marching!</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>We cannot carry our own kits!</p> + + <p class="i2">I say, Bill, <i>ain't</i> we awful + duffers?</p> + + <p>Not furrin foes, or Frenchy wits,</p> + + <p class="i2">Could more completely give us + snuffers.</p> + + <p>CAMBRIDGE, CONNAUGHT, Sir EVELYN WOOD,</p> + + <p class="i2">All of a mind, for once, about us!</p> + + <p>What wonder Bungs dub us no good,</p> + + <p class="i2">And lackeys, snobs, and street-boys flout + us?</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>I see myself as others see;</p> + + <p class="i2">A weedy, narrer-chested stripling,</p> + + <p>Can't fight, can't march, can't 'ardly see!</p> + + <p class="i2">And yet young Mister RUDYARD KIPLING</p> + + <p>Don't picture hus as kiddies slack,</p> + + <p class="i2">Wot can't go out without our nurses,</p> + + <p>But ups and pats us on the back</p> + + <p class="i2">In very pooty + potry-verses.<a id="footnotetag1" + name="footnotetag1"></a><a href="#footnote1"><sup>1</sup></a></p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>We're much obliged to 'im, I'm sure,</p> + + <p class="i2">(Though potry ain't my fav'rit + reading,)</p> + + <p>He's civil, kind and not cock-sure;</p> + + <p class="i2">Good sense goes sometimes with + good-breeding.</p> + + <p>So Tommy's best respects to <i>'im</i>,</p> + + <p class="i2">At Aldershot we'd like to treat 'im.</p> + + <p>Though if he bobs in Evelyn's swim,</p> + + <p class="i2">He <i>might</i> not know us <i>when</i> + we meet 'im!</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>But, Bill, if all this barney's <i>true</i></p> + + <p class="i2">Consarnin' "Our Poor Little Army,"</p> + + <p>It must be nuts to Pollyvoo!</p> + + <p class="i2"><i>He</i> needn't feel a mite alarmy.</p> + + <p><i>Whose</i> fault is it we cost a lot,</p> + + <p class="i2">And, if war comes, <i>must</i> fail, or + fly it?</p> + + <p>Well facts is facts, and bounce is rot;</p> + + <p class="i2">But, blarm it, BILL,—<i>I'd like to + try it!</i></p> + </div> + </div> + + <blockquote class="footnote"> + <a id="footnote1" + name="footnote1"></a><b>Footnote 1:</b> + <a href="#footnotetag1">(return)</a> + + <p>Mr. Kipling dedicates his "Barrack-Room Ballads" to + "TOMMY ATKINS" in these lines:—</p> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p class="i2">I have made for you a song,</p> + + <p class="i2">An' it may be right or wrong,</p> + + <p>But only you can tell me if it's true;</p> + + <p class="i2">I've tried for to explain.</p> + + <p class="i2">Both your pleasure and your pain,</p> + + <p>And, THOMAS, here's my best respects to you!</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p class="i2">Oh, there'll surely come a day</p> + + <p class="i2">When they'll grant you all your + pay</p> + + <p>And treat you as a Christian ought to do;</p> + + <p class="i2">So, until that day comes round,</p> + + <p class="i2">Heaven keep you safe and sound,</p> + + <p>And, Thomas, here's my best respects to you!</p> + </div> + </div> + </blockquote> + <hr /> + + <div class="figcenter" + style="width:70%;"> + <a href="images/206.png"><img width="100%" + src="images/206.png" + alt="THE STATE OF THE MARKET." /></a> + + <h3>THE STATE OF THE MARKET.</h3> + + <p><i>Artist</i> (<i>to Customer, who has come to buy on + behalf of a large Furnishing Firm in Tottenham Court + Road</i>). "HOW WOULD THIS SUIT YOU? 'SUMMER'!"</p> + + <p><i>Customer.</i> "H'M—'SUMMER.' WELL, SIR, THE + FACT IS WE FIND THERE'S VERY LITTLE DEMAND FOR <i>GREEN</i> + GOODS JUST NOW. IF YOU HAD A LINE OF <i>AUTUMN TINTS</i> + NOW—THAT'S THE ARTICLE WE FIND MOST SALE FOR AMONG + OUR CUSTOMERS!"</p> + </div> + <hr /> + + <h3>ROBERT ON THE HARTISTIC COPPERASHUN.</h3> + + <p>Oh, ain't the Copperashun jest a cummin out in the Hi Art + line! Why, dreckly as they let it be nown as they was a willin + to make room in their bewtifool Galery for any of the finest + picters in the hole country as peepel was wantin to send there, + jest to let the world no as they'd got 'em, and that they wos + considered good enuff by the LORD MARE and the Sherriffs and + all the hole Court of Haldermen, than they came a poring in in + such kwantities, that pore Mr. WELSH, the Souperintendant, was + obligated to arsk all the hole Court of common Counselmen, what + on airth he was to do with 'em, and they told him to hinsult + the Libery Committee on the matter, and they, like the lerned + gents as they is, told him to take down sum of the werry + biggest and the most strikingest as they'd got of their hone + Picters and ang 'em up in the Gildhall Westybool, as they calls + it, coz it's in the East, I spose, and so make room for a lot + of the littel uns as had been sent to 'em, coz they was painted + by "Old Marsters," tho' who "Old Marsters" was, I, for one, + never could make out, xcep that he must have well deserved his + Nickname, considering the number of picters as he must ha' + painted. And now cums won of the + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page207" + id="page207"></a>[pg 207]</span> werry cleverest dodges as + even a Welsh Souperintendant of Gildhall picturs coud + posserbly have thort on. Why what does he do? but he has + taken down out of the Gallery, won of the werry biggest, and + one of the werry grandest, Picters of moddern times, and has + hung it up in the Westybool aforesaid, to take the whole + shine out of all the little uns as so many hemnent swells + had been ony too glad to send to Gildhall—"the paytron + of the Harts," as I herd a hemnent Halderman call + it,—to give 'em the reel stamp as fust rate.</p> + + <p>And now what does my thousands of readers suppose was the + subjeck of this werry grandest of all Picters? Why, no other + than a most magniffisent, splendid, gorgeus, large as life + representashun of the LORD MARE's Show, a cummin in all its + full bewty and splender from the middel of the Royal + Xchange!!</p> + + <p>But ewen that isn't all. For the Painter of this trewly + hartistic Picter, determined to make his grand work as truthful + as it is striking, has lawished his hole sole, so to speak, + upon what are undoubtedly the most commanding figures in the + hole glorious display, and them is the LORD MARE's three + Gentlemen! with their wands of power, and their glorious + Unyforms, not forgetting their luvly silk stockins; on this + occasion, too, spotless as the rising Sun! To say that they are + the hobservd of all hobservers, and the hadmirashun of all the + fare sex, and the henvy of the other wun, need not be said, tho + they do try to hide their gelesy with a sickly smile.</p> + + <p>Need I say that it is surrounded ewery day by a sercle of + smiling admirers, who, I have no doubt, come agane and agane, + to show it to their admiring friends; and, just to prove its + grand success, the werry last time as I was there, I owerheard + a smiling gent say to his friend,—"Well, TOM, as this is + such a success, it would not supprise me if the same hemnent + Hartis was to paint the LORD MARE's Bankwet next year, with all + the Nobel Harmy of Waiters arranged in front!" Wich Harmy will + be pussinelly konduktid by your faithful</p> + + <p class="author">ROBERT.</p> + <hr /> + + <div class="figcenter" + style="width:100%;"> + <a href="images/207.png"><img width="100%" + src="images/207.png" + alt="THE POINT OF VIEW." /></a> + + <h3>THE POINT OF VIEW.</h3> + + <p><i>Frenchman.</i> "WELL, MON AMI, YOUR SIR EVELYN + VOLSELEY SAY YOU CAN GO NOWHERES AND DO NOSING! YOU ARE A + SKVEEZED LEMON!"</p> + + <p><i>Tommy Atkins.</i> "WELL, HANG IT, YOU BLOOMING + FURRINEERS HAVEN'T ALWAYS FOUND IT SO!"</p> + </div> + <hr /> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page208" + id="page208"></a>[pg 208]</span> + + <h2>TELEPHONIC THEATRE-GOERS.</h2> + + <h4>(<i>A Sketch at the Electrical Exhibition.</i>)</h4> + + <blockquote> + <p>SCENE—<i>The Exterior of the Telephone Music Room + in the Egyptian Vestibule. The time is about eight. A + placard announces, "Manchester Theatre now on"; inside the + wickets a small crowd is waiting for the door to be opened. + A</i> Cautious Man <i>comes up to the turnstile with the + air of a fox examining a trap.</i></p> + </blockquote> + + <div class="drama"> + <p><i>The Cautious Man</i> (<i>to the</i> Commissionnaire). + How long can I stay in for sixpence?</p> + + <p><i>The Commissionnaire</i>. Ten Minutes, Sir.</p> + + <p><i>The C.M.</i> Only ten minutes, eh? But, look here, + how do I know there'll be anything going on while I'm + <i>in</i> there?</p> + + <p><i>Comm.</i> You'll find out that from the instruments, + Sir.</p> + + <p><i>The C.M.</i> Ah, I daresay—but what <i>I</i> + mean is, suppose there's nothing <i>to + hear</i>—between the Acts and all that?</p> + + <p><i>Comm.</i> Comp'ny guarantees there's a performance on + while you're in the room, Sir.</p> + + <div class="figright" + style="width:65%;"> + <a href="images/208.png"><img width="100%" + src="images/208.png" + alt="'How very distinctly you hear the dialogue, Sir, don't you?'" /> + </a>"How very distinctly you hear the dialogue, Sir, + don't you?" + </div> + + <p><i>The C.M.</i> Yes, but all these other people waiting + to get in—How'm I to know I shall get a + <i>place</i>?</p> + + <p><i>Comm.</i> (<i>outraged</i>). Look 'ere, Sir, we're + the National Telephone Comp'ny with a reputation to lose, + and if you've any ideer we want to swindle you, all I can + tell <i>you</i> is—stop outside!</p> + + <p><i>The C.M.</i> (<i>suddenly subdued</i>). + Oh—er—all right, thought I'd make sure + <i>first</i>, you know. Sixpence, isn't it?</p> + + <blockquote> + <p>[<i>He passes into the enclosure, and joins the + crowd.</i></p> + </blockquote> + + <p><i>A Comic Man</i> (<i>in an undertone to his + Fiancée</i>). That's a careful bloke, that is. Know the + <i>value</i> o' money, <i>he</i> does. It'll have to be a + precious scientific sort o' telephone that takes <i>'im</i> + in. He'll 'ave <i>his</i> six-pennorth, if it bursts the + machine! Hullo, they're letting us in now.</p> + + <blockquote> + <p>[<i>The door is slightly opened from within, causing + an expectant movement in crowd—the door is closed + again.</i></p> + </blockquote> + + <p><i>A Superior Young Lady</i> (<i>to her</i> Admirer). I + just caught a glimpse of the people inside. They were all + sitting holding things like opera-glasses up to their + ears—they did look so ridiculous!</p> + + <p><i>Her Admirer</i>. Well, it's about time they gave + <i>us</i> a chance of looking ridiculous, their ten minutes + must be up now. I've been trying to think what this put me + in mind of. <i>I</i> know. Waiting outside the Pit doors! + doesn't it you?</p> + + <p><i>The Sup. Y.L.</i> (<i>languidly, for the benefit of + the bystanders</i>). Do they make you wait like this for + the Pit?</p> + + <p><i>Her Admirer</i>. <i>Do they make you wait!</i> Why, + weren't you and I three-quarters of an hour getting into + the Adelphi the other evening?</p> + + <p><i>The Sup. Y.L.</i> (<i>annoyed with him</i>). I don't + see any necessity to bawl it out like that if we + <i>were</i>.</p> + + <blockquote> + <p>[<i>The discreetly curtained windows are thrown + back, revealing persons inside reluctantly tearing + themselves away from their telephones. As the door + opens, there is a frantic rush to get places.</i></p> + </blockquote> + + <p><i>An Attendant</i> (<i>soothingly</i>). Don't crush, + Ladies and Gentlemen—plenty of room for all. Take + your time!</p> + + <blockquote> + <p>[<i>The crowd stream in, and pounce eagerly on + chairs and telephones; the usual</i> Fussy Family + <i>waste precious minutes in trying to get seats + together, and get separated in the end. Undecided + persons flit from one side to another. Gradually they + all settle down, and stop their ears with the + telephone-tubes, the prevailing expression being one of + anxiety, combined with conscious and apologetic + imbecility. Nervous people catch the eye of complete + strangers across the table, and are seized with + suppressed giggles. An</i> Irritable Person <i>finds + himself between the</i> Comic Man <i>and a</i> Chatty + Old Gentleman.</p> + </blockquote> + + <p><i>The Comic Man</i> (<i>to his Fiancée, putting the + tube to his ear</i>). Can't get <i>my</i> telephone to tork + yet! (<i>Shakes it.</i>) <i>I'll</i> wake 'em up! (<i>Puts + the other tube to his mouth.</i>) Hallo—hallo! are + you there? Look alive with that Show o' yours, + Guv'nor—we ain't got long to stop! (<i>Pretends to + listen, and reply.</i>) If you give me any of your cheek, + I'll come down and punch your 'ead! (<i>Applies a tube to + his eye.</i>) All right, POLLY, they've + <i>begun</i>—I can see the 'ero's legs!</p> + + <p><i>Polly</i>. Be quiet, can't you? I can't hold the + tubes steady if you will keep making me laugh so. + (<i>Listening.</i>) Oh, ALF, I can hear singing—can't + you? Isn't it lovely!</p> + + <p><i>The Com. M.</i> It seems to me there's a bluebottle, + or something, got inside mine—I can 'ear + <i>im</i>!</p> + + <p><i>The Irr. P.</i> (<i>angrily, to himself</i>). How the + deuce do they expect—and that infernal organ in the + nave has just started booming again—they ought to + send out and stop it!</p> + + <p><i>The Chatty O.G.</i> (<i>touching his elbow</i>). I + beg your pardon, Sir, but can you inform me what opera it + is they're performing at Manchester? The <i>Prima Donna</i> + seems to be just finishing a song. Wonderful how one can + hear it all!</p> + + <p><i>The Irr. P.</i> (<i>snapping</i>). Very wonderful + indeed, under the circumstances! (<i>He corks both ears + with the tubes</i>). It's too bad—now there's a + confounded string-band beginning outs—(<i>Removes the + tube.</i>) Eh, what? (<i>More angrily than ever.</i>) Why, + it's <i>in</i> the blanked thing! (<i>He fumbles with the + tubes in trying to readjust them. At last he succeeds, and, + after listening intently, is rewarded by hearing a muffled + and ghostly voice, apparently from the bowels of the earth, + say</i>—"Ha, say you so? Then am I indeed the + hooshiest hearsher in the whole of Mumble-land!")</p> + + <p><i>The Chatty O.G.</i> (<i>nudging him</i>). How very + distinctly you hear the dialogue, Sir, don't you?</p> + + <blockquote> + <p>[<i>The</i> Irritable Person, <i>without removing + the tubes, turns and glares at him savagely, without + producing the slightest impression.</i></p> + </blockquote> + + <p><i>Another Ghostly Voice</i> (<i>very audibly</i>). The + devil you are!</p> + + <p><i>A Careful Mother.</i> MINNIE, put them down at + <i>once</i>, do you hear? I can't have you listening to + such language.</p> + + <p><i>Minnie</i>. Why, it's only at Manchester, Mother!</p> + + <p><i>Ghostly Voices and Sounds</i> (<i>as they reach + the</i> Irritable Person). "You cursed scoundrel! So it was + <i>you</i> who burstled the billiboom, was it? Stand back, + there, I'll hork every gordle in his—!" (<i>... + Sounds of a scuffle ... A loud female scream, and firing + ...</i>) "What have you done?"</p> + + <p><i>The Ch. O.G.</i> Have you any sort of idea what he + <i>has</i> done, Sir?</p> + + <blockquote> + <p>[<i>To the</i> Irritable Person.</p> + </blockquote> + + <p><i>The Irr. P.</i> No, Sir, and I'm not likely to have + as long as—</p> + + <blockquote> + <p>[<i>He listens with fierce determination.</i></p> + </blockquote> + + <p><i>First Ghostly Voice.</i> Stop! Hear me—I can + explain everything!</p> + + <p><i>Second Do. Do.</i> I will hear <i>nothing</i>, I tell + you!</p> + + <p><i>First Do. Do.</i> You shall—you <i>must</i>! + Listen. I am the only surviving mumble of your unshle + groolier.</p> + + <p><i>The Ch. O.G.</i> (<i>as before</i>). I think it must + be a Melodrama and not an Opera after all—from the + language!</p> + + <p><i>An Innocent Matron</i> (<i>who is listening, with her + eyes devoutly fixed on the Libretto of "The Mountebanks," + under the firm conviction that she is in direct + communication with the Lyric Theatre.</i>) I always + understood <i>The Mountebanks</i> was a <i>musical</i> + piece, my dear, didn't you? and even as it is, they don't + seem to keep very close to the words, as far as I can + follow!</p> + + <p><i>Ghostly Voices</i> (<i>in the</i> Irritable Person's + <i>ear as before</i>). "Your <i>wife</i>?" "Yes, my wife, + and the only woman in the world I ever loved!"</p> + + <p><i>The Irr. P.</i> (<i>pleased, to himself.</i>) Come, + now I'm getting accustomed to it, I can hear capitally!</p> + + <p><i>The Voices</i>. Then why have you—?...I will + tell you all. Twenty-five years ago, when a shinder foodle + in the Borjeezlers I—</p> + + <p><i>A Still Small Voice</i> (<i>in everybody's ear</i>). + <small>TIME, PLEASE.</small></p> + + <p><i>Everybody</i> (<i>dropping the tubes, startled.</i>) + Where did <i>that</i> come from?</p> + + <p><i>The Com. M.</i> They've been and cut it off at the + main—just when it was getting interesting!</p> + + <p><i>His Fiancée.</i> Well, I can't say I made out much of + the plot myself.</p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page209" + id="page209"></a>[pg 209]</span> + + <p><i>The Com. M.</i> I made out enough to cover a + sixpence, anyhow. You didn't expect the telephone to + explain it all to you goin' along, and give you cawfee + between the Acts, did you?</p> + + <p><i>The Ch. O.G.</i> (<i>sidling affably up to the</i> + Irritable Person <i>as he is moving out</i>). Marvellous + strides Science has made of late, Sir! Almost incredible. I + declare to <i>you</i>, while I was sitting there, I + positively felt inclined to ask myself the + question—</p> + + <p><i>The Irr. P.</i> Allow me to say, Sir, that another + time, if you will obey that inclination, and put the + question to yourself instead of other people, you will be a + more desirable neighbour in a Telephone Room than, I + confess I found you!</p> + + <blockquote> + <p>[<i>He turns on his heel, indignantly.</i></p> + </blockquote> + + <p><i>The Ch. O.G.</i> (<i>to himself</i>). 'Strordinary + what unsociable people one <i>does</i> come across at + times! Now I 'm always ready to talk to anybody, I + am—don't care <i>who</i> they are. + Well—well— [<i>He walks on, musing.</i></p> + </div> + <hr /> + + <div class="figcenter" + style="width:67%;"> + <a href="images/209.png"><img width="100%" + src="images/209.png" + alt="QUITE NATURAL." /></a> + + <h3>QUITE NATURAL.</h3> + + <p><i>Mamma.</i> "ETHEL DEAR, WHY WON'T YOU SAY GOOD-BYE TO + THIS GENTLEMAN? HE IS VERY KIND!"</p> + + <p><i>Ethel.</i> "BECAUSE, MUMMY DEAR, YOU TOLD HIM JUST + NOW HE IS 'THE LION OF THE SEASON,'—AND I AM SO + FRIGHTENED!"</p> + </div> + <hr /> + + <h3>"DE PROFUNDIS."</h3> + + <h4>(<i>By an Indignant "Outsider."</i>)</h4> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>A masterpiece, worthy of TURNER,</p> + + <p class="i2">Was mine, there my friends all agree,</p> + + <p>No work of a pot-boiling learner,</p> + + <p class="i6">My "<i>View on the Dee</i>."</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>A place on the line I expected,</p> + + <p class="i2">Associate shortly to be!</p> + + <p>Hang me, if it isn't rejected,</p> + + <p class="i6">And marked with a D!</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>I will not repeat what I uttered</p> + + <p class="i2">When this was reported to me;</p> + + <p>The mere monosyllable muttered</p> + + <p class="i6">Begins with a D.</p> + </div> + </div> + <hr /> + + <h2>ON THE (POST) CARDS.</h2> + + <blockquote class="note"> + <p>["Sir JAMES FERGUSSON does not hesitate to declare his + opinion that rudeness or incivility on the part of a + Post-Office servant is, next to dishonesty, one of the + worst offences he can commit. This notice is not addressed + to men alone. Of the young women employed by the + department, there are, he says, some, if not many, whom it + is impossible to acquit of inattention and levity in the + discharge of their official duties. It is Sir JAMES + FERGUSSON's intention to ascertain, at short intervals, the + effect of this notice on the behaviour of Post-Office + officials generally."—<i>Daily Paper</i>.]</p> + </blockquote> + + <blockquote> + <p>SCENE—<i>Interior of a Post Office.</i> Female + Employees <i>engaged in congenial pursuits.</i></p> + </blockquote> + + <div class="drama"> + <p><i>First Emp.</i> (<i>ending story</i>). And so she + never got the bouquet, after all, and he went to Margate, + without even saying good-bye.</p> + + <p><i>Second Emp.</i> (<i>her Friend</i>). Well, that was + hard upon her!</p> + + <p><i>First Member of the Public</i> (<i>entering briskly + and putting coppers on the counter</i>). Now then, three + penny stamps, please!</p> + + <p><i>First Emp.</i> (<i>to her Friend</i>). Yes, as you + say, it <i>was</i> hard, as of course the matter of the + pic-nic was no affair of hers.</p> + + <p><i>Second Emp.</i> (<i>sympathetically</i>). Of course + not! They are all alike, my dear!—all alike!</p> + + <p><i>First Mem. of the Pub.</i> (<i>impatiently</i>). Now + then, three penny stamps please!</p> + + <p><i>First Emp.</i> Well, you are in a hurry! (<i>To her + Friend</i>). And from that day to this she has never heard + from him.</p> + + <p><i>Second Emp.</i> And it would have been so easy to + drop her a postcard from Herne Bay.</p> + + <p><i>First Mem. of the Pub.</i> Am I to be kept waiting + all day? Three penny postage-stamps, please.</p> + + <p><i>First Emp.</i> (<i>leisurely</i>). What do you + want?</p> + + <p><i>First Mem. of the Pub.</i> (<i>angrily</i>). Three + penny postage-stamps, and look sharp about it!</p> + + <p><i>First Emp.</i> (<i>giving stamp</i>). Threepence.</p> + + <p><i>First Mem. of the Pub.</i> (<i>furious</i>). A + threepenny stamp! I want three penny stamps. Three stamps + costing a penny each. See?</p> + + <p><i>First Emp.</i> (<i>with calm unconcern</i>). Then why + didn't you say so before? (<i>Supplies stamps and turns to + Friend.</i>) Then MARIA of course wanted to go to + Birchington.</p> + + <p><i>Second Emp.</i> Why Birchington? Why did she want to + go to Birchington?</p> + + <p><i>First Emp.</i> Well—<i>he</i> of course was at + Herne Bay.</p> + + <p><i>Second Emp.</i> Ah, now I begin to understand her + artfulness.</p> + + <p><i>First Emp.</i> Ah, there you are right, my dear! She + <i>was</i> artful! [<i>Enter</i> Second Member of the + Public, <i>covered up in cloaks and only showing the tip of + his nose.</i></p> + + <p><i>Second Mem. of the Pub.</i> (<i>in a feeble + voice</i>). Can you tell me, please, when the Mail starts + for India?</p> + + <p><i>First Emp.</i> Well, the sea air <i>is</i> the sea + air. And that reminds me, what do you think of this + tobacco-pouch for—</p> + + <p><i>Second Emp.</i> (<i>archly</i>). For I know who! Why, + you have got his initials in forget-me-nots!</p> + + <p><i>First Emp.</i> I think them so pretty, and they are + very easy to do.</p> + + <p><i>Second Mem. of the Pub.</i> (<i>in a rather louder + voice</i>). Can you tell me, please, when the Mail starts + for India?</p> + + <p><i>Second Emp.</i> I must say, dear, you have the most + perfect taste. Well, he will be ungrateful if he isn't + charmed with them! Absolutely charmed!</p> + + <p><i>Second Mem, of the Pub.</i> (<i>louder still</i>). + Will you be so good as to say when the Mail starts for + India?</p> + + <p><i>First Emp.</i> Oh, you <i>are</i> in a hurry! (<i>To + Friend</i>.) Yes, I took a lot of trouble in getting the + gold beads. There is only one place where you can get them. + They don't sell them at the Stores.</p> + + <p><i>Second Mem. of the Pub.</i> (<i>in a loud tone of + voice</i>). Again I ask you when the Mail leaves for + India?</p> + + <p><i>Second Emp.</i> And yet you can get almost anything + you want there. Only it's a terrible nuisance going from + one place to another.</p> + + <p><i>Second Mem. of the Pub.</i> (<i>in a voice of + thunder</i>). Silence! You are an impudent set! You are + calculated to injure the class to whom you belong! I am + ashamed of you!</p> + + <p><i>First Emp.</i> And who may you be?</p> + + <p><i>Second Mem. of the Pub.</i> Whom may I be? I will + tell you! (<i>Throws off his disguise</i>.) I am the + Postmaster-General!!!</p> + + <blockquote> + <p>[<i>Scene closes in upon a tableau suggestive of + astonishment, contrition and excitement.</i></p> + </blockquote> + </div> + <hr /> + + <p>ITS LATEST APPLICATION.—Chorus for Royal Academicians, + for Monday next:—"Ta-R.A.-R.A.-Boom-to-day!"</p> + <hr /> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page210" + id="page210"></a>[pg 210]</span> + + <div class="figcenter" + style="width:80%;"> + <a href="images/210.png"><img width="100%" + src="images/210.png" + alt="HISTORY EXAMS." /></a> + + <h3>HISTORY EXAMS.</h3>(<i>Effects on Education of Modern + Advertising.</i>)<br /> + "WHO WAS BORN IN CORSICA?" (<i>Silence.</i>) "TRY AND + THINK—AND DIED IN ST. HELENA?"<br /> + "OH, OF COURSE—I KNOW! THE GREAT SAPOLIO!" + </div> + <hr /> + + <h2>TO THE NEW "QUEEN OF THE MAY".</h2> + + <h3>(A HYMN OF HONEST LABOUR.)</h3> + + <center> + <i>After the Proclamation of the Anarchist Manifestoes, + (With Apologies to the Author of the magnificent "Hymn to + Proserpine.")</i> + </center> + + <blockquote class="note"> + <p>["For the third time the International mobilises its + battalions.... Already the mere mention of the magical word + 'May-Day' throws the <i>bourgeoisie</i> into a state of + nervous trembling, and its cowardice only finds refuge in + cynicism and ferocity. But whether the wretch (the + <i>bourgeoisie</i>) likes it or not, the end draws nigh. + Capitalist robbery is going to perish in mud and shame.... + The conscious proletariat organises itself, and marches + towards its emancipation. You can have it all your own way + presently; proletarians of the whole world, serfs of the + factory, the men of the workshop, the office, and the shop, + who are mercilessly exploited and pitilessly + assassinated.... For, lo! '93 reappears on the horizon.... + 'Vive l'Internationale des + Travailleurs!'"—<i>Manifesto of the May-Day Labour + Demonstration Executive Committee</i>.]</p> + </blockquote> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Have we lived long enough to have seen one thing, + that hate hath no end?</p> + + <p>Goddess, and maiden, and queen, must we hail + <i>you</i> as Labour's true friend?—</p> + + <p>Will you give us a prosperous morrow, and comfort + the millions who weep?</p> + + <p>Will you give them joy for their sorrow, sweet + labour, and satisfied sleep?</p> + + <p>Sweet is the fragrance of flowers, and soft are the + wings of the dove,</p> + + <p>And no goodlier gift is there given than the dower + of brotherly love;</p> + + <p>But you, O May-Day Medusa, whose glance makes the + heart turn cold,</p> + + <p>Art a bitter Goddess to follow, a terrible Queen to + behold.</p> + + <p>We are sick of spouting—the words burn deep + and chafe: we are fain,</p> + + <p>To rest a little from clap-trap, and probe the wild + promise of gain.</p> + + <p>For new gods we know not of are acclaimed by all + babbledom's breath,</p> + + <p>And they promise us love-inspired life—by the + red road of hatred and death.</p> + + <p>The gods, dethroned and deceased, cast + forth—so the chatterers say—</p> + + <p>Are banished with Flora and Pan, and behold our new + Queen of the May!</p> + + <p>New Queen, fresh crowned in the city, flower-drest, + her snake-sceptre a rod,</p> + + <p>Her orb a decked dynamite bomb, which shall shatter + all earth at her nod;</p> + + <p>But for us their newest device seems barren, and did + they but dare</p> + + <p>To bare the new Queen of the May, were she angel or + demon <i>when</i> bare?</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Time and old gods are at strife; we dwell in the + midst thereof,</p> + + <p>And they are but foolish who curse, and they are but + shallow who scoff.</p> + + <p>Let hate die out, take rest, poor workers, be all at + peace;</p> + + <p>Let the angry battle abate, and the barren + bitterness cease!</p> + + <p>Ah, pleasant and pastoral picture! Thrice welcome + whoever shall bring</p> + + <p>The sunshine of love after Winter, the blossoms of + joy with the Spring!</p> + + <p>Wilt THOU bring it, O new May Queen? If thou canst, + come and rule us, and take</p> + + <p>The laurel, the palm, and the pæan; all bondage but + thine we would break,</p> + + <p>And welcome the branch and the dove. But we look, + and we hold our breath,</p> + + <p>That is not the visage of Love, and beneath the + piled blossoms lurks—Death!</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>A Society all of Love and of Brotherhood! Beautiful + dream!</p> + + <p>But alas for this Promise of May! Do not Labour's + Floralia seem</p> + + <p>As flower-feasts fair to her followers? Look on the + wreaths at her feet,</p> + + <p>Flung by enthusiast hands from the mine, and the + mill, and the street,</p> + + <p>Piled flower-offerings, thine, Proletariat Queen of + the May!</p> + + <p>And what means the new Bona Dea? and what would her + suppliants say?</p> + + <p>Organised strength, solidarity, power to band and to + strike,</p> + + <p>Hope that is native to Spring,—and Hate, in + all seasons alike;</p> + + <p>Mutual trust of the many—and menace malign for + the few.</p> + + <p>Citizen, capitalist,—ah! the hours of + <i>your</i> empire seem few,</p> + + <p>An empire ill-gendered, unjust, blindly selfish, and + heartlessly strong</p> + + <p>For the crushing of famishing weakness, the rearing + of wealth-founded wrong.</p> + + <p>Few, if these throngs have their will, for the + fierce proletariat throbs</p> + + <p>For revenge on the full-fed <i>Bourgeoisie</i> which + ruthlessly harries and robs.</p> + + <p>'Tis fired with alarms, and it arms with hot haste + for the imminent fray,</p> + + <p>For it quakes at the tramp of King Mob, and the + thought of this Queen of the May.</p> + + <p>The bandit of Capital falls, and shall perish in + shame and in filth!</p> + + <p>The harvest of Labour's at hand!—The harvest; + but red is the tilth,</p> + + <p>And the reapers are wrathful and rash, and the + swift-wielded sickle that strives</p> + + <p>For the sheaves, not the gleaners' scant ears, seems + agog for the reaping of—lives!</p> + + <p>Assassins of Capital? Aye! And their weakening force + will ye meet</p> + + <p>With assassins of Labour? Shall Brotherhood redden + the field and the street?</p> + + <p>Beware of the bad black old lesson! Behold, and look + close, and beware!</p> + + <p>There are flowers at your newly-built shrine, is the + evil old serpent not there?</p> + </div> + </div><span class="pagenum"><a name="page211" + id="page211"></a>[pg 211]</span> + + <div class="figcenter" + style="width:100%;"> + <a href="images/211.png"><img width="100%" + src="images/211.png" + alt="THE NEW 'QUEEN OF THE MAY.'" /></a> + + <h3>THE NEW "QUEEN OF THE MAY."</h3> + </div><span class="pagenum"><a name="page213" + id="page213"></a>[pg 213]</span> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>The sword-edge and snake-bite, though hidden in + blossoms, are hatred's old arms.</p> + + <p>And what is your May Queen at heart, oh, true + hearts, that succumb to her charms?</p> + + <p>Dropped and deep in the blossoms, with eyes that + flicker like fire,</p> + + <p>The asp of Murder lies hid, which with poison shall + feed your desire.</p> + + <p>More than these things will she give, who looks + fairer than all these things?</p> + + <p>Not while her sceptre's a snake, and her orb the red + horror that rings</p> + + <p>Devilish, foul, round the world; while the hiss and + the roar are the voice</p> + + <p>Of this monstrous new Queen of the May, in whose + rule you would bid us rejoice.</p> + </div> + </div> + <hr /> + + <h2>MR. PUNCH'S UP-TO-DATE POETRY FOR CHILDREN.</h2> + + <h3>No. II.—"LITTLE JACK HORNER."</h3> + + <div class="figright" + style="width:33%;"> + <a href="images/213-1.png"><img width="100%" + src="images/213-1.png" + alt="Little Jack Horner." /></a> + </div> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p class="i8">LITTLE JACK HORNER,</p> + + <p class="i8">He sat in the corner,</p> + + <p>And cried for his "Mummy!" and "Nuss!"</p> + + <p class="i8">For, while eating his cake,</p> + + <p class="i8">He had got by mistake</p> + + <p>In a horrid piratical 'bus.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p class="i8">Now, some ten minutes back,</p> + + <p class="i8">You'd have seen little JACK</p> + + <p>From an Aërated Bread Shop emerge,</p> + + <p class="i8">And proceed down the Strand—</p> + + <p class="i8">Slice of cake in his hand—</p> + + <p>In a crumb-covered suit of blue serge.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p class="i8">To be perfectly frank,</p> + + <p class="i8">He was bound for the Bank,</p> + + <p>For it chanced to be dividend day,</p> + + <p class="i8">And he jumped on the 'bus,</p> + + <p class="i8">After reasoning thus—</p> + + <p>In his logical juvenile way:—</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p class="i8">"Here's a 'bus passing by,</p> + + <p class="i8">And I cannot see why</p> + + <p>I should weary my infantile feet;</p> + + <p class="i8">I've a copper to spare,</p> + + <p class="i8">And the authorised fare</p> + + <p>Is a penny to Liverpool Street."</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p class="i8">As the 'bus cantered on,</p> + + <p class="i8">Little cake-eating JOHN</p> + + <p>In the corner contentedly sat,</p> + + <p class="i8">And with that one and this</p> + + <p class="i8">(Whether Mister or Miss)</p> + + <p>Had a meteorological chat.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p class="i8">Came a bolt from the blue</p> + + <p class="i8">When, collecting his due,</p> + + <p>The conductor remarked, "Though I thank</p> + + <p class="i8">That young cake-eating gent</p> + + <p class="i8">For the penny he's sent,</p> + + <p>It's a <i>tuppenny</i> ride to the Bank!"</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p class="i8">"You're a pirate!" sobbed JACK,</p> + + <p class="i8">"And your colours are black!"</p> + + <p>But he heard—as he struggled to + speak—</p> + + <p class="i8">The conductor observe,</p> + + <p class="i8">With remarkable verve,</p> + + <p>That he didn't want none of his cheek!</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p class="i8">With a want of regard,</p> + + <p class="i8">He demanded JACK's card.</p> + + <p>And young HORNER was summoned next day,</p> + + <p class="i8">When the poor little lad</p> + + <p class="i8">Lost the battle, and had</p> + + <p>All the costs in addition to pay.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p class="i8">Now the Moral is this:</p> + + <p class="i8">Little Master and Miss,</p> + + <p>Whom I'm writing these verses to please;</p> + + <p class="i8">If your tiny feet ache,</p> + + <p class="i8">Then a 'bus you may take,</p> + + <p><i>But be sure it's an L.G.O.C.'s!</i></p> + </div> + </div> + <hr /> + + <h3>A CURSORY OBSERVATION.</h3> + + <p>From the <i>Figaro</i> for Dimanche, April 17, we make this + extract:—</p> + + <blockquote> + <p>"SPORTS ATHLÉTIQUES.—Le match international de + foot ball entre le Stade Français et le Rosslyn Park foot + ball Club de Londres sera joué demain sur le terrain du + Cursing Club de France à Levallois. L'équipe anglaise est + arrivée à Paris hier soir. Le match sera présidé par le + marquis de Dufferin."</p> + </blockquote> + + <p>"The Cursing Club!" What an awful name! For what purpose are + they banded together? Is it to curse one another by their gods? + to issue forth on <i>premières</i> to damn a new play? What + fearful language would be just audible, curses, not loud but + deep, during the progress of the Foot-ball Match over which the + Marquis of DUFFERIN is to preside! It is all over by now; but + the result we have not seen. We hope there is no Cursing Club + in England. There existed, once upon a time, in London, a Club + with an awful Tartarian name, which might have been a parent + society to a Cursing Club. Let us trust—</p> + + <blockquote class="note"> + <p>[*** The Editor puts short the article at this point, + being of opinion that "Cursing" is only a misprint for + "Coursing;" or, if not, he certainly gives <i>Le Figaro</i> + the benefit of the doubt. Note, also, that the match was to + be played on "Cursing Club Ground," lent for the occasion, + and was not to be played by Members of the "C.C."]</p> + </blockquote> + <hr /> + + <h2>THE LAY OF THE LITERARY AUTOLYCUS.</h2> + + <h4>(<i>See Correspondence in the Times on "Literary + Thefts."</i>)</h4> + + <center> + <i>Enter</i> AUTOLYCUS, <i>singing.</i> + </center> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>When books and magazines appear,</p> + + <p class="i2">With heigh! the hopes of a big + sale!—</p> + + <p>Why, then comes in the cheat o' the year,</p> + + <p class="i2">And picks their plums, talk, song, or + tale.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>The white sheets come, each page my "perk,"</p> + + <p class="i2">With heigh! sweet bards, O how they + sing!—</p> + + <p>With paste and scissors I set to work;</p> + + <p class="i2">Shall a stolen song cost anything?</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>The Poet tirra-lirra chants,</p> + + <p class="i2">With heigh! with heigh! he <i>must</i> be + a J.—</p> + + <p>His Summer songs supply my wants;</p> + + <p class="i2">They cost me nought—but, ah! they + <i>pay</i>.</p> + </div> + </div> + + <p>I have served Literature in my time, but now Literature is + in <i>my</i> service.</p> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>But shall I pay for what comes dear,</p> + + <p class="i2">To the pale scribes who write,—</p> + + <p>For news, and jokes, and stories queer?</p> + + <p class="i2">Walker! my friends, not quite!</p> + + <p>Since filchers may have leave to live,</p> + + <p class="i2">And vend their "borrowed" budget,</p> + + <p>For all my "notions" nix I'll give,</p> + + <p class="i2">Then sell them as I trudge it.</p> + </div> + </div> + + <p>My traffic is (news) sheets. My father named me AUTOLYCUS, + who, being as I am, littered under Mercury, was likewise a + snapper-up of unconsidered trifles. With paste and scissors I + procured this caparison; and my revenue is the uninquiring + public; gallows and gaol are too powerful on the highway; + picking and treadmilling are terrors to burglars; but in + <i>my</i> line of theft I sleep free from the thought of them. + A prize! a prize!...</p> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Jog on, jog on, the foot-pad way,</p> + + <p class="i2">In the modern Sikes's style-a:</p> + + <p>Punctilious fools prefer to <i>pay</i>;</p> + + <p class="i2">But I at scruples smile-a.</p> + </div> + </div> + + <p>... Ha, ha! what a fool Honesty is! and Trust, his sworn + brother, a very simple gentleman ... I understand the business, + do it; to have an open ear, a quick eye, and a nimble hand with + the shears is necessary for a (literary) cutpurse; a good nose + is requisite also, to smell out the good work of other people. + I see this is the time that the unjust man doth thrive.</p> + <hr /> + + <h3>THE WELLINGTON MONUMENT.</h3> + + <div class="figright" + style="width:17%;"> + <a href="images/213-2.png"><img width="100%" + src="images/213-2.png" + alt="The Wellington Monument." /></a> + </div> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>At last! How long ago the time</p> + + <p class="i2">When England's paltry meanness killed</p> + + <p>Her greatest Sculptor in his prime.</p> + + <p>And hid his work, now called sublime,</p> + + <p class="i2">In narrow space so nearly filled!</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>When, using Art beyond her taste,</p> + + <p class="i2">Her greatest Captain's tomb he + wrought,</p> + + <p>That noblest effort was disgraced,—</p> + + <p>It seemed to her a needless waste,</p> + + <p class="i2">The Budget Surplus was her thought.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Now may she, with some sense of shame,</p> + + <p class="i2">Amend the errors of the past,</p> + + <p>Show honour to the Great Duke's name,</p> + + <p>Repair the wrong to STEPHENS' fame,</p> + + <p class="i2">And move the Monument at last!</p> + </div> + </div> + <hr /> + + <h2>"KNOW ALL MEN BY THESE PRESENTS."</h2> + + <p>It is believed that the Rossendale Union of Liberal Clubs, + having given a pair of slippers, a rug, and two pieces of + cretonne to Mr. GLADSTONE, will also make the following + presents, in due course:—</p> + + <p><i>Sir W. L-ws-n.</i>—Twelve dozen Tea-cosies, and ten + yards of blue Ribbon.</p> + + <p><i>Mr. L-b-ch-re.</i>—A Jester's cap.</p> + + <p><i>Sir W.V. H-rc-rt.</i>—A Spencer, without arms, but + emblazoned with those of the Plantagenets.</p> + + <p><i>Mr. M-cl-re.</i>—A Hood.</p> + + <p><i>Mr. McN-ll.</i>—A knitted Respirator, to be worn in + the House.</p> + + <p><i>Lord R. Ch-rch-ll.</i>—Twelve dozen table-cloths, + twenty-four dozen Dinner-napkins, and thirty-six dozen + Pudding-cloths.</p> + + <p><i>Sir E. Cl-rke.</i>—A scarlet Jersey, inscribed + "Salvation Army."</p> + + <p><i>Mr. R. Sp-nc-r.</i>—A Smock Frock.</p> + + <p><i>Mr. B-lf-r.</i>—Some Collars of Irish linen, and + one of hemp, the latter to be supplied by the Irish patriots in + America.</p> + + <p><i>Mr. E. St-nh-pe.</i>—A Necktie of green poplin, + embroidered with shamrocks.</p> + + <p><i>Mr. M. H-ly.</i>—An Ulster.</p> + + <p><i>Col. S-nd-rs-n.</i>—A Cork jacket.</p> + + <p><i>Mr. W. O'Br-n.</i>—A pair of Tr——rs, in + fancy cretonne.</p> + + <p><i>Sir G.O. Tr-v-ly-n.</i>—A Coat (reversible).</p> + + <p><i>Mr. C. C-nyb-re.</i>—A Waistcoat (strait).</p> + <hr /> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page214" + id="page214"></a>[pg 214]</span> + + <div class="figcenter" + style="width:50%;"> + <a href="images/214-1.png"><img width="100%" + src="images/214-1.png" + alt="'UNDERSTOOD.'" /></a> + + <h3>"UNDERSTOOD."</h3> + + <p>"I SAY, DUBOIS, YOU <i>DO</i> KNOW HOW TO LAY IT ON + THICK, OLD MAN! I LIKE YOUR CHEEK TELLING MISS BROWN SHE + SPOKE FRENCH WITHOUT THE LEAST ACCENT!"</p> + + <p>"VY, CERTAINEMENT, MON AMI—VIZOUT ZE LEAST + <i>FRENCH</i> ACCENT!"</p> + </div> + <hr /> + + <h2>"THE (SOLDIERS') LIFE WE LIVE."</h2> + + <center> + (<i>Imaginary Evidence that should be added to the Report + of Lord Wantage's Committee.</i>) + </center> + + <div class="drama"> + <p><i>Chairman.</i> I think your name is RICHARD + REDMOND?</p> + + <p><i>Witness.</i> I beg pardon, my Lord and + Gentlemen—DICK REDMOND—simple, gushing, + explosive DICK.</p> + + <p><i>Chair.</i> Have you been known by any other name?</p> + + <p><i>Wit.</i> Off duty, my Lord, I have been called + CHARLES WARNER. Nay, why should I not confess + it?—CHARLIE WARNER. Yes, my Lord, CHARLIE WARNER!</p> + + <p><i>Chair.</i> You wish to describe how you were + enlisted?</p> + + <p><i>Wit.</i> Yes, my Lord. It was in this way. I had + returned from some races in a dog-cart with a villain. We + stopped at a wayside public-house kept by a comic + Irishman.</p> + + <p><i>Chair.</i> Are these details necessary?</p> + + <p><i>Wit.</i> Hear me, my Lord; hear me! I confess it, I + took too much to drink. Yes, my Lord, I was drunk! And then + a Sergeant in the Dragoon Guards gave me a shilling, and + placed some ribands in my pot-hat, and—well—I + was a soldier! Yes, a soldier! And as a soldier was refused + permission to visit my dying mother!</p> + + <p><i>Chair.</i> Were there no other legal formalities in + connection with your enlistment? For instance—Were + you not taken before an attesting Magistrate?</p> + + <p><i>Wit.</i> No, my Lord, no! I was carried off + protesting, while my villanous friend disappeared with my + sweetheart! It was cruel, my Lord and Gentlemen! It was + very cruel!</p> + + <p><i>Chair.</i> Did you desert?</p> + + <p><i>Wit.</i> I did, my Lord—after I had obtained a + uniform fitting closely to the figure; but it was only that + I might obtain the blessing of my mother! And when I + returned home the soldiers followed me—and might have + killed me!</p> + + <p><i>Chair.</i> How was that?</p> + + <p><i>Wit.</i> When I had taken refuge in a haystack, they + prodded the haystack with their swords! And this is life in + the Army!</p> + + <p><i>Chair.</i> Were you arrested on discovery?</p> + + <p><i>Wit.</i> No; they spared me that indignity! They saw, + my Lord, that my mother was dying, and respectfully fell + back while I assisted the old Lady to pass away peacefully. + But then, after all, they were men. In spite of their red + patrol jackets, brass helmets, and no spurs, they were men, + my Lord,—men! And, as soldiers, after I had broken + from prison, and was accused of murder, they again released + me, because some one promised to buy my discharge!</p> + + <p><i>Chair.</i> And where are you quartered?</p> + + <p><i>Wit.</i> At the Royal Princess's Theatre, Oxford + Street, where I have these strange experiences of + discipline, and where I am enlisted in the unconventional, + not to say illegal, way I have described, nightly; nay, + sometimes twice daily!</p> + + <p><i>Chair.</i> And why have you proffered your + evidence?</p> + + <p><i>Wit.</i> Because I think the Public ought to know, my + Lord, the great services afforded by the most recent + Melodrama to the popularity of the Army, and—yes, the + cause of recruiting!</p> + + <blockquote> + <p>[<i>The Witness then withdrew.</i></p> + </blockquote> + </div> + <hr /> + + <h2>HOW THEY BRING THE GOOD NEWS!</h2> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>All the papers teeming</p> + + <p>With, the news of DEEMING</p> + + <p class="i2">On the shore or ship;</p> + + <p>Telling of his tearing</p> + + <p>Hair that he was wearing</p> + + <p class="i2">From his upper lip.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>(T-SS-D, rush! Pursue it!</p> + + <p>Buy it, bring it, glue it</p> + + <p class="i2">On your model! Quick!)</p> + + <p>Telling how he's looking,</p> + + <p>How he likes the cooking,—</p> + + <p class="i2">Bah, it makes one sick!</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Telling of his bearing,</p> + + <p>How the crowds are staring,</p> + + <p class="i2">What may be his fate,</p> + + <p>Just what clothes he wore the</p> + + <p>Days he came before the</p> + + <p class="i2">Local Magistrate.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>And, verbatim printed</p> + + <p>All he's said or hinted</p> + + <p class="i2">As to any deeds;</p> + + <p>Such a chance as this is</p> + + <p>Not a paper misses!</p> + + <p class="i2">Everybody reads!</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Would they give such latest</p> + + <p>News of best and greatest</p> + + <p class="i2">Folks? What's that you say?</p> + + <p>Who would read of virtue,</p> + + <p>Or such news insert? You</p> + + <p class="i2">Know it would not pay.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>So, demand creating</p> + + <p>Such supply, they're stating</p> + + <p class="i2">All that they can tell;</p> + + <p>Spite of School-Board teaching,</p> + + <p>Culture, science, preaching,</p> + + <p class="i2">This is sure to sell.</p> + </div> + </div> + <hr /> + + <div class="figcenter" + style="width:50%;"> + <a href="images/214-2.png"><img width="100%" + src="images/214-2.png" + alt="THE END OF THE SEASON. AU REVOIR!" /></a> + + <h3>THE END OF THE SEASON. AU REVOIR!</h3> + </div> + <hr /> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page215" + id="page215"></a>[pg 215]</span> + + <div class="figcenter" + style="width:100%;"> + <a href="images/215.png"><img width="100%" + src="images/215.png" + alt="STAIRCASE SCENES.—No. 1. PRIVATE VIEW, ROYAL ACADEMY." /> + </a> + + <h3>STAIRCASE SCENES.—No. 1. PRIVATE VIEW, ROYAL + ACADEMY.</h3> + </div> + <hr /> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page216" + id="page216"></a>[pg 216]</span> + + <h2>THE YOUNG GIRL'S COMPANION.</h2> + + <h4>(<i>By Mrs. Payley,</i>)</h4> + + <h3>II.—DINING-OUT.</h3> + + <p>I can quite understand that a young girl may not care much + for the mere material dinner. The palate is a pleasure of + maturity. The woman of fifty probably includes a menu or two + among her most sacred memories; but the young girl is capable + of dining on part of a cutlet, any pink sweetmeat, and some + tea. But I must confess that I was surprised at another + objection to dining-out that a young girl, only at the end of + her second season, once made to me. She said that she + positively could not stand any longer the conversation of the + average young man of Society. I asked her why, and she then + asserted that this sort of young man confined himself to flat + badinage and personal brag, which he was mistaken in believing + to be veiled. What she said was, of course, perfectly true. + Civilisation is responsible for the flat badinage, for + civilisation requires that conversation shall be light and + amusing, but can provide no remedy for slow wits; on the other + hand, the personal brag is a relic of the original man. The + badinage is the young man's defect in art; the brag is his + defect in nature. But I fail to see any objection to such + conversation; on the contrary, it is charming because it + <i>is</i> so average; you know beforehand just what you will + hear and just what you will say, and everything is consequently + made easy. The man puts on that kind of talk just as he puts on + his dress-coat; both are part of the evening uniform. The motto + of the perfect young man of Society is "I resemble." I pointed + all this out to the young girl in question, and she retorted + that it was a pity that silence was a lost art. However, she + continued to dine-out and to take her part in the only possible + conversation, and after all Society rather encourages + theoretical rebellion, provided that it is accompanied by + practical submission.</p> + + <div class="figleft" + style="width:28%;"> + <a href="images/216-1.png"><img width="100%" + src="images/216-1.png" + alt="The perfect young man of Society." /></a> + </div> + + <p>From the point of view of sentiment, a dinner has less + potentialities than a dance; but the dinner may begin what the + dance will end; you set light to the fuse in the dining-room, + and the explosion takes place six weeks afterwards in + someone-else's conservatory. Nothing much can be done on the + staircase; but, if you can decently pretend that you have heard + of the young man who is taking you in, he will probably like + it. If, after a few minutes, you decide that it is worth while + to interest the young man, discourage his flat badinage, and + encourage his personal brag. The only thing in which it is + quite certain that every man will be interested is, the + interest someone else takes in him. Later on, he will probably + be induced to illustrate the topic of conversation by telling + you (if it would not bore you) of a little incident which + happened to himself. The incident will be prettily coloured for + dinner-table use, and he will make the story prove a merit in + himself, which he will take care to disclaim vainly. When he + has finished, look very meditatively at your plate, as if you + saw visions in it, and then turn on him suddenly with wide + eyes—with the right kind of eyelashes, this is + effective.</p> + + <p>"I suppose you don't know it, Mr. BLANK," you tell him, "but + really I can't help saying it. You behaved + splendidly—splendidly!"</p> + + <p>Droop the eyelashes quickly, and become meditative again. He + will deprecate your compliment a little incoherently.</p> + + <p>"Not at all, not at + all—Miss—er—ASTERISK—I + really—assure you—nothing more than + any—er—other man would have done. Some other people + at the time told me"—(<i>laughs + nervously</i>)—"very much—er—what you have + just said, but—er—personally, + I—really—could never see it, or of course I + wouldn't have mentioned it to you."</p> + + <p>Your rejoinder will depend a good deal on how far you mean + to go, and how much of that kind of thing you think you can + stand. If you like, you can drop your handkerchief or your + glove when you rise; it will please him to pick it up for you, + and he will feel, for a moment, as if he had saved your + life.</p> + + <p>If you do not want to please the man, but only to show your + own superiority, it may perhaps be as well to remember that + women are better than men, as a rule, in flat badinage. Men + talk best when they are by themselves, but they are liable to + be painfully natural at such times. I had some little + difficulty in finding this out, but I thought it my duty to + know, and—well, I <i>do</i> know.</p> + + <p>The correspondence that I have received has not been + altogether pleasant. I have had one letter from ETHEL (aged + thirteen) saying that she thinks me a mean sneak for prying + into other people's Diaries. I can only reply that I was acting + for the public good. I have had a sweet letter, however, from + "AZALEA." She has been absolutely compelled, by force of + circumstances, to allow the distinct attentions of three + different men. She does not give the names of the men, only + descriptions, but I should advise her to keep the dark one. She + can see the will at Somerset House. "JANE" writes to ask what + is the best cure for freckles. I do not answer questions of + that kind. I have replied to my other correspondents + privately.</p> + <hr /> + + <h3>REPULSING THE AMAZONS.</h3> + + <h4>(<i>See Cartoon, "Arming the Amazons," Dec. 5, + 1891.</i>)</h4> + + <div class="figright" + style="width:50%;"> + <a href="images/216-2.png"><img width="100%" + src="images/216-2.png" + alt="Repulsing the Amazons." /></a> + </div> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Arming the Amazons against the Greeks?</p> + + <p>That PRIAM SALISBURY tried some few short weeks</p> + + <p>Before the present fray. FAWCETTA fair</p> + + <p>Had prayed; the question then seemed "in the + air,"</p> + + <p>And PRIAM proffered then the Franchise-spear,</p> + + <p>(A shadowy one, that gave no grounds for fear,)</p> + + <p>To poor PENTHESILEA.</p> + + <p class="i10">Now, ah, now</p> + + <p>ROLLITTUS moves, there's going to be a row,</p> + + <p>And lo! the mingled ranks of Greece and Troy</p> + + <p>Close 'gainst the Amazons. Her steed, a toy,</p> + + <p>A hobby-horse, that any maid may mount,</p> + + <p>Is not—just now—of any great + account.</p> + + <p>Her phantom spear will pierce no stout male + mail;</p> + + <p>But should ROLLITTUS <i>not</i>—(confound + him!)—fail,</p> + + <p>A female host, well armed, and <i>not</i> on + hobbies,</p> + + <p>Might prove as dangerous as a batch of Bobbies.</p> + + <p>The fair FAWCETTA then must be thrown over;</p> + + <p>PENTHESILEA finds no hero-lover</p> + + <p>In either host. PRIAM, abroad, is dumb.</p> + + <p>Ah, maiden-hosts, man's love for you's a hum.</p> + + <p>Each fears you—in the foeman's cohorts + thrown,</p> + + <p>But <i>neither side desires you in its own!</i></p> + + <p>The false GLADSTONIUS first, he whom you + nourish,</p> + + <p>A snake in your spare bosoms, dares to flourish</p> + + <p>Fresh arms against you; potent, though polite,</p> + + <p>He fain would bow you out of the big fight,</p> + + <p>Civilly shelve you. "Don't kick up a row,</p> + + <p>And—spoil my game! Another day, not now,</p> + + <p>There's a <i>dear</i> creature!" CHAMBERLAINIUS, + too,</p> + + <p>Hard as a nail, and squirmy as a screw,</p> + + <p>Sides with the elder hero, just for once;</p> + + <p>CHAPLINIUS also, active for the nonce</p> + + <p>On the Greek side, makes up the Traitrous Three,</p> + + <p>One from each faction! Ah! 'tis sad to see</p> + + <p>PENTHESILEA, fierce male foes unite</p> + + <p>In keeping female warriors from the fight;</p> + + <p>Yet think, look round, and—you <i>may</i> find + they're right!</p> + </div> + </div> + <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. 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C. Burnand + + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + + + + +Title: Punch, or the London Charivari, Vol. 102, April 30, 1892 + +Author: Various + +Release Date: December 31, 2004 [eBook #14544] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-646-US (US-ASCII) + + +***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI, +VOL. 102, APRIL 30, 1892*** + + +E-text prepared by Malcolm Farmer, William Flis, and the Project Gutenberg +Online Distributed Proofreading Team + + + +Note: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this + file which includes the original illustrations. + See 14544-h.htm or 14544-h.zip: + (https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/4/5/4/14544/14544-h/14544-h.htm) + or + (https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/4/5/4/14544/14544-h.zip) + + + + + +PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI + +VOL. 102 + +APRIL 30, 1892 + + + + + + + +MR. PUNCH'S HEBRIDEAN SALMON-FLY BOOK. + +STRANGE ADVENTURES OF A PEN-HOLDER. + + (By Wullie White, Author of "They Taught Her to Death" + "A Pauper in Tulle," "My Cloudy Glare," "Green Pasterns in + Picalilli," "Ran Fast to Royston," &c., &c., &c.) + +["I now send you," writes this popular and delightful Author, "the +latest of the Novels in which I mingle delicate sentiment with +Hebridean or Highland scenery, and bring the wisdom of a Londoner to +bear directly upon the unsophisticated innocence of a kilt-wearing +population. I am now republishing my books in a series. I'll take +short odds about my salmon-flies as compared with anyone else's, and +am prepared to back my sunsets and cloud-effects against the world. No +takers. I thought not. Here goes!"] + +CHAPTER I. + +[Illustration] + +I held it in my right hand, toying with it curiously, and not without +pleasure. It was merely a long, wooden pen-holder, inky and inert to +an unappreciative eye, but to me it was a bright magician, skilled +in the painting of glowing pictures, a traveller in many climes, a +tried and trusted friend, who had led me safely through many strange +adventures and much uncouth dialect. "Old friend," I said, addressing +it kindly, "shall you and I set out together on another journey? We +have seen many countries, and the faces of many men, and yet, though +we are advancing in years, the time has not yet come for me to lay +you down, as having no need of you. What say you--shall we start once +more?" I hear a confused sound as of men who murmur together, and +say, "We have supped full of horrors, and have waded chin-deep in +Zulu blood; we have followed the Clergy of the Established Church into +the recesses of terrible crimes, and have endured them as they bared +their too sensitive consciences to our gaze. We pine for simpler, and +more wholesome pleasures. Now," I continued, "if only Queen TITA and +the rest will help us, I think we can do something to satisfy this +clamour." For all answer, my pen-holder nestled lovingly in my hand. +I placed my patent sunset-nib in its mouth, waved it twice, dipped it +once, and began. + +CHAPTER II. + +The weary day was at length sinking peacefully to rest behind the +distant hills. The packed and tumbled clouds lay heavily towards the +West, where a gaunt jagged tower of rock rose sheer into the sky. +And lo! suddenly a broad shaft of blood-red light shot through the +brooding cumulus and rested gorgeously upon the landscape. On each +side of this a thin silvery veil of mist crept slowly up and hung in +impalpable folds. The Atlantic sand stretching away to the North shone +with the effulgence of burnished copper. And now brilliant flickers +of coloured light, saffron, purple, green and rose danced over the +heaven's startled face. The piled clouds opened and showed in the +interspace a lurid lake of blood tinged with the pale violet of an +Irishwoman's eyes. Great pillars of flame sprang up rebelliously and +spread over the burning horizon. Then a strange, soft, yellow and +vaporous light raised its twelve bore breech-loading ejector to its +shoulder and shot across the Cryanlaughin hills, and the cattle shone +red in the green pastures, and everything else glowed, and the whole +world burned with the bewildering glare of a stout publican's nose in +a London fog. And silence came down upon the everlasting hills whose +outlines gleamed in a prismatic-- + +"That will do," said a mysterious Voice, "the paint-box is exhausted!" + +CHAPTER III. + +I was shocked at this rude interruption. + +"Sir!" I said, "I cannot see you, though I hear your voice. Will you +not disclose yourself?" + +"Nonsense, man," said the aggravating, but invisible one, "do not +waste time. Let us get on with the story. You know what comes next. +_Revenons a nos saumons._ Ha, Ha! spare the rod and spoil the book!" + +I was vexed, but I had to obey, and this was the result: + +The pools were full of gleaming curves of silver, each one belonging +to a separate salmon of gigantic size fresh run from the sea. The +foaming Black Water tumbled headlong over its rocks and down its +narrow channel. DONALD, the big keeper, stood industriously upon the +bank arranging flies. "I hef been told," he observed, "tat ta English +will be coming to Styornoway, and there will be no more Gaelic spoken. +But perhaps it iss not true, for they will tell many lies. I am a +teffle of a liar myself." + +And lo! as we watched, the grey sky seemed to be split in two by an +invisible wedge, and a purple gleam of light shot-- + +"Stow that!" said the Voice, "I have allowed you to put in a patch of +Gaelic, but I really cannot let you do any more sun-pictures. Try and +think that it is a close time for landscapes, and don't let the light +shoot again for a bit." + +"All right," I retorted, not without annoyance, "but you'll just +have to make up your mind to lose that salmon. It was a magnificent +forty-pounder, and, if it hadn't been for your ridiculous +interruption, we should have landed him splendidly in another six +pages." + +"As you like," said the Voice. + +CHAPTER IV. + +And now our journey was drawing to a close. Out of the solemn hush +of the purple mountains we had passed slowly southwards back to the +roar and the turmoil of the London streets. And many friends had +said farewell to us. SHEILA with her low, sweet brow, her exquisitely +curved lips, and her soft blue eyes had held us enraptured, and we +had wept with COQUETTE, and fiercely cheered the WHAUP while he held +WATTIE by the heels, and made him say a sweer. And we had talked +with MACLEOD and grown mournful with Madcap VIOLET, and had seen many +another fresh and charming face, and had talked Gaelic with gusto and +discrimination. And Queen TITA had sped with us, and we had adored +BELLE, and yet we cried for more. But now the dream-journey was past, +and lo! suddenly the whole heaven was blazing with light, and a bright +saffron band lay across-- + +"Steady there!" said the Voice. "Remember your promise!" + +THE END. + + * * * * * + +SAINTS OR SINNERS? + +[BY SPECIAL WIRE.] + +MELBOURNE.--It is said, on good authority, that the favourite books of +the interesting prisoner now in custody are, the _Pilgrim's Progress_, +an Australian Summary of the _Newgate Calendar_, and the poetry of +the late Dr. Watts. He has also expressed himself as pleased with +Mrs. Humphrey Ward's latest work of fiction, though he does not quite +approve of the theological opinions of the writer. + +PARIS, _Tuesday_.--The supposed author of the dynamite outrages, is +the recipient of numerous presents in prison, sent him by male and +female admirers, and persons anxious for his conversion and his +autograph. The edition of _Thomas a Kempis_, recently given him, is a +most valuable antique copy; but he complains of the print as unsuited +to his eyesight. + +MELBOURNE. _Later_.--The Solicitor engaged on behalf of our +interesting prisoner has requested the Government to allow a +commission, consisting of the medical superintendents at Broadmore, +Hanwell and Colney Hatch, with six other English experts in insanity, +to come out to Australia to inquire into the mental condition of +the prisoner. A telegram has also been despatched to Lord SALISBURY +requesting that the LORD CHIEF JUSTICE OF ENGLAND and an Old Bailey +Jury may be sent out to try the case; otherwise there will be "no +chance of justice being done." The British PREMIER's reply has not yet +been received. It is believed that he is consulting Mr. GOSCHEN about +the probable cost of such a step. + +MELBOURNE. _Latest_.--Through the instrumentality of an Official +connected with the prison, I am enabled to send you some important +information concerning our prisoner which you may take as absolutely +authentic. His breakfast this morning consisted of buttered toast, +coffee, and poached eggs. He complained that the latter were not +new-laid, and became very excited. It has also transpired that he is +strangely in favour of Imperial Federation, and he has declared to his +gaolers that "The friendship between England and her Colonies ought +to be cemented." This expression of opinion has created a profound +sensation. + + * * * * * + +THE POINT OF VIEW. + +(_AS PRIVATE TOMMY ATKINS PUTS IT TO HIS COMRADE BILL._) + + [In the Report of Lord WANTAGE's Committee, it appears that + our Home Army costs seventeen and a-half millions per annum. + The Duke of CAMBRIDGE doubts if we could rapidly mobilise one + Army Corps. Sir EVELYN WOOD holds half the men under him at + Aldershot are not equal to doing a day's service, even in + England. The Duke of CONNAUGHT says half the battalions under + his command are no good for service, cannot even carry their + kits, and are not fit to march. Lord WOLSELEY, it is stated, + compares the British Army to a "squeezed lemon."] + + "Squeezed lemon!" _That's_ encouraging! + Wish Wolseley knew 'ow much it's pleased us. + I'd like to arsk _one_ little thing: + I wonder who it is who's squeezed us? + The whole Report's a thing to cheer; + Makes us feel proud and pleased, oh! very! + And won't the bloomin' furrineer + Over our horacles make merry? + + Costs seventeen millions and a arf, + And carn't go nowhere, nor do nothink! + That tots it up! They wouldn't charf, + Eh, BILL, these Big Wigs! What do _you_ think? + Therefore, we're just a useless lot. + After pipe-claying and stiff-starching, + We _might_ be good for stopping shot, + Only that we're not fit for marching! + + We cannot carry our own kits! + I say, Bill, _ain't_ we awful duffers? + Not furrin foes, or Frenchy wits, + Could more completely give us snuffers. + CAMBRIDGE, CONNAUGHT, Sir EVELYN WOOD, + All of a mind, for once, about us! + What wonder Bungs dub us no good, + And lackeys, snobs, and street-boys flout us? + + I see myself as others see; + A weedy, narrer-chested stripling, + Can't fight, can't march, can't 'ardly see! + And yet young Mister RUDYARD KIPLING + Don't picture hus as kiddies slack, + Wot can't go out without our nurses, + But ups and pats us on the back + In very pooty potry-verses.[1] + + We're much obliged to 'im, I'm sure, + (Though potry ain't my fav'rit reading,) + He's civil, kind and not cock-sure; + Good sense goes sometimes with good-breeding. + So Tommy's best respects to _'im_, + At Aldershot we'd like to treat 'im. + Though if he bobs in Evelyn's swim, + He _might_ not know us _when_ we meet 'im! + + But, Bill, if all this barney's _true_ + Consarnin' "Our Poor Little Army," + It must be nuts to Pollyvoo! + _He_ needn't feel a mite alarmy. + _Whose_ fault is it we cost a lot, + And, if war comes, _must_ fail, or fly it? + Well facts is facts, and bounce is rot; + But, blarm it, BILL,--_I'd like to try it!_ + + [Footnote 1: Mr. Kipling dedicates his "Barrack-Room Ballads" + to "TOMMY ATKINS" in these lines:-- + + I have made for you a song, + An' it may be right or wrong, + But only you can tell me if it's true; + I've tried for to explain. + Both your pleasure and your pain, + And, THOMAS, here's my best respects to you! + + Oh, there'll surely come a day + When they'll grant you all your pay + And treat you as a Christian ought to do; + So, until that day comes round, + Heaven keep you safe and sound, + And, Thomas, here's my best respects to you!] + + * * * * * + +[Illustration: THE STATE OF THE MARKET. + +_Artist_ (_to Customer, who has come to buy on behalf of a large +Furnishing Firm in Tottenham Court Road_). "HOW WOULD THIS SUIT YOU? +'SUMMER'!" + +_Customer._ "H'M--'SUMMER.' WELL, SIR, THE FACT IS WE FIND THERE'S +VERY LITTLE DEMAND FOR _GREEN_ GOODS JUST NOW. IF YOU HAD A LINE OF +_AUTUMN TINTS_ NOW--THAT'S THE ARTICLE WE FIND MOST SALE FOR AMONG OUR +CUSTOMERS!"] + + * * * * * + +ROBERT ON THE HARTISTIC COPPERASHUN. + +Oh, ain't the Copperashun jest a cummin out in the Hi Art line! Why, +dreckly as they let it be nown as they was a willin to make room +in their bewtifool Galery for any of the finest picters in the hole +country as peepel was wantin to send there, jest to let the world +no as they'd got 'em, and that they wos considered good enuff by the +LORD MARE and the Sherriffs and all the hole Court of Haldermen, than +they came a poring in in such kwantities, that pore Mr. WELSH, the +Souperintendant, was obligated to arsk all the hole Court of common +Counselmen, what on airth he was to do with 'em, and they told him to +hinsult the Libery Committee on the matter, and they, like the lerned +gents as they is, told him to take down sum of the werry biggest and +the most strikingest as they'd got of their hone Picters and ang 'em +up in the Gildhall Westybool, as they calls it, coz it's in the East, +I spose, and so make room for a lot of the littel uns as had been +sent to 'em, coz they was painted by "Old Marsters," tho' who "Old +Marsters" was, I, for one, never could make out, xcep that he must +have well deserved his Nickname, considering the number of picters as +he must ha' painted. And now cums won of the werry cleverest dodges +as even a Welsh Souperintendant of Gildhall picturs coud posserbly +have thort on. Why what does he do? but he has taken down out of the +Gallery, won of the werry biggest, and one of the werry grandest, +Picters of moddern times, and has hung it up in the Westybool +aforesaid, to take the whole shine out of all the little uns as so +many hemnent swells had been ony too glad to send to Gildhall--"the +paytron of the Harts," as I herd a hemnent Halderman call it,--to give +'em the reel stamp as fust rate. + +And now what does my thousands of readers suppose was the subjeck +of this werry grandest of all Picters? Why, no other than a most +magniffisent, splendid, gorgeus, large as life representashun of the +LORD MARE's Show, a cummin in all its full bewty and splender from the +middel of the Royal Xchange!! + +But ewen that isn't all. For the Painter of this trewly hartistic +Picter, determined to make his grand work as truthful as it is +striking, has lawished his hole sole, so to speak, upon what are +undoubtedly the most commanding figures in the hole glorious display, +and them is the LORD MARE's three Gentlemen! with their wands of +power, and their glorious Unyforms, not forgetting their luvly silk +stockins; on this occasion, too, spotless as the rising Sun! To say +that they are the hobservd of all hobservers, and the hadmirashun of +all the fare sex, and the henvy of the other wun, need not be said, +tho they do try to hide their gelesy with a sickly smile. + +Need I say that it is surrounded ewery day by a sercle of smiling +admirers, who, I have no doubt, come agane and agane, to show it to +their admiring friends; and, just to prove its grand success, the +werry last time as I was there, I owerheard a smiling gent say to his +friend,--"Well, TOM, as this is such a success, it would not supprise +me if the same hemnent Hartis was to paint the LORD MARE's Bankwet +next year, with all the Nobel Harmy of Waiters arranged in front!" +Wich Harmy will be pussinelly konduktid by your faithful + +ROBERT. + + * * * * * + +[Illustration: THE POINT OF VIEW. + +_Frenchman._ "WELL, MON AMI, YOUR SIR EVELYN VOLSELEY SAY YOU CAN GO +NOWHERES AND DO NOSING! YOU ARE A SKVEEZED LEMON!" + +_Tommy Atkins._ "WELL, HANG IT, YOU BLOOMING FURRINEERS HAVEN'T ALWAYS +FOUND IT SO!"] + + * * * * * + +TELEPHONIC THEATRE-GOERS. + +(_A SKETCH AT THE ELECTRICAL EXHIBITION._) + + SCENE--_The Exterior of the Telephone Music Room in the + Egyptian Vestibule. The time is about eight. A placard + announces, "Manchester Theatre now on"; inside the wickets a + small crowd is waiting for the door to be opened. A Cautious + Man comes up to the turnstile with the air of a fox examining + a trap._ + +_The Cautious Man_ (_to the Commissionnaire_). How long can I stay in +for sixpence? + +_The Commissionnaire_. Ten Minutes, Sir. + +_The C.M._ Only ten minutes, eh? But, look here, how do I know +there'll be anything going on while I'm _in_ there? + +_Comm._ You'll find out that from the instruments, Sir. + +_The C.M._ Ah, I daresay--but what _I_ mean is, suppose there's +nothing _to hear_--between the Acts and all that? + +_Comm._ Comp'ny guarantees there's a performance on while you're in +the room, Sir. + +[Illustration: "How very distinctly you hear the dialogue, Sir, don't +you?"] + +_The C.M._ Yes, but all these other people waiting to get in--How'm I +to know I shall get a _place_? + +_Comm._ (_outraged_). Look 'ere, Sir, we're the National Telephone +Comp'ny with a reputation to lose, and if you've any ideer we want to +swindle you, all I can tell _you_ is--stop outside! + +_The C.M._ (_suddenly subdued_). Oh--er--all right, thought I'd make +sure _first_, you know. Sixpence, isn't it? + + [_He passes into the enclosure, and joins the crowd._ + +_A Comic Man_ (_in an undertone to his Fiancee_). That's a careful +bloke, that is. Know the _value_ o' money, _he_ does. It'll have to +be a precious scientific sort o' telephone that takes _'im_ in. He'll +'ave _his_ six-pennorth, if it bursts the machine! Hullo, they're +letting us in now. + + [_The door is slightly opened from within, causing an + expectant movement in crowd--the door is closed again._ + +_A Superior Young Lady_ (_to her Admirer_). I just caught a glimpse +of the people inside. They were all sitting holding things like +opera-glasses up to their ears--they did look so ridiculous! + +_Her Admirer_. Well, it's about time they gave _us_ a chance of +looking ridiculous, their ten minutes must be up now. I've been trying +to think what this put me in mind of. _I_ know. Waiting outside the +Pit doors! doesn't it you? + +_The Sup. Y.L._ (_languidly, for the benefit of the bystanders_). Do +they make you wait like this for the Pit? + +_Her Admirer_. _Do they make you wait!_ Why, weren't you and I +three-quarters of an hour getting into the Adelphi the other evening? + +_The Sup. Y.L._ (_annoyed with him_). I don't see any necessity to +bawl it out like that if we _were_. + + [_The discreetly curtained windows are thrown back, revealing + persons inside reluctantly tearing themselves away from their + telephones. As the door opens, there is a frantic rush to get + places._ + +_An Attendant_ (_soothingly_). Don't crush, Ladies and +Gentlemen--plenty of room for all. Take your time! + + [_The crowd stream in, and pounce eagerly on chairs and + telephones; the usual Fussy Family waste precious minutes + in trying to get seats together, and get separated in the + end. Undecided persons flit from one side to another. + Gradually they all settle down, and stop their ears with + the telephone-tubes, the prevailing expression being one of + anxiety, combined with conscious and apologetic imbecility. + Nervous people catch the eye of complete strangers across the + table, and are seized with suppressed giggles. An Irritable + Person finds himself between the Comic Man and a Chatty + Old Gentleman. + +_The Comic Man_ (_to his Fiancee, putting the tube to his ear_). Can't +get _my_ telephone to tork yet! (_Shakes it._) _I'll_ wake 'em up! +(_Puts the other tube to his mouth._) Hallo--hallo! are you there? +Look alive with that Show o' yours, Guv'nor--we ain't got long to +stop! (_Pretends to listen, and reply._) If you give me any of your +cheek, I'll come down and punch your 'ead! (_Applies a tube to his +eye._) All right, POLLY, they've _begun_--I can see the 'ero's legs! + +_Polly_. Be quiet, can't you? I can't hold the tubes steady if you +will keep making me laugh so. (_Listening._) Oh, ALF, I can hear +singing--can't you? Isn't it lovely! + +_The Com. M._ It seems to me there's a bluebottle, or something, got +inside mine--I can 'ear _im_! + +_The Irr. P._ (_angrily, to himself_). How the deuce do they +expect--and that infernal organ in the nave has just started booming +again--they ought to send out and stop it! + +_The Chatty O.G._ (_touching his elbow_). I beg your pardon, Sir, but +can you inform me what opera it is they're performing at Manchester? +The _Prima Donna_ seems to be just finishing a song. Wonderful how one +can hear it all! + +_The Irr. P._ (_snapping_). Very wonderful indeed, under the +circumstances! (_He corks both ears with the tubes_). It's too +bad--now there's a confounded string-band beginning outs--(_Removes +the tube._) Eh, what? (_More angrily than ever._) Why, it's _in_ the +blanked thing! (_He fumbles with the tubes in trying to readjust them. +At last he succeeds, and, after listening intently, is rewarded by +hearing a muffled and ghostly voice, apparently from the bowels of the +earth, say_--"Ha, say you so? Then am I indeed the hooshiest hearsher +in the whole of Mumble-land!") + +_The Chatty O.G._ (_nudging him_). How very distinctly you hear the +dialogue, Sir, don't you? + + [_The Irritable Person, without removing the tubes, turns + and glares at him savagely, without producing the slightest + impression._ + +_Another Ghostly Voice_ (_very audibly_). The devil you are! + +_A Careful Mother_. MINNIE, put them down at _once_, do you hear? I +can't have you listening to such language. + +_Minnie_. Why, it's only at Manchester, Mother! + +_Ghostly Voices and Sounds_ (_as they reach the Irritable Person_). +"You cursed scoundrel! So it was _you_ who burstled the billiboom, was +it? Stand back, there, I'll hork every gordle in his--!" (_... Sounds +of a scuffle ... A loud female scream, and firing ..._) "What have you +done?" + +_The Ch. O.G._ Have you any sort of idea what he _has_ done, Sir? + + [_To the Irritable Person._ + +_The Irr. P._ No, Sir, and I'm not likely to have as long as-- + + [_He listens with fierce determination._ + +_First Ghostly Voice_. Stop! Hear me--I can explain everything! + +_Second Do. Do._ I will hear _nothing_, I tell you! + +_First Do. Do._ You shall--you _must_! Listen. I am the only surviving +mumble of your unshle groolier. + +_The Ch. O.G._ (_as before_). I think it must be a Melodrama and not +an Opera after all--from the language! + +_An Innocent Matron_ (_who is listening, with her eyes devoutly fixed +on the Libretto of "The Mountebanks," under the firm conviction that +she is in direct communication with the Lyric Theatre._) I always +understood _The Mountebanks_ was a _musical_ piece, my dear, didn't +you? and even as it is, they don't seem to keep very close to the +words, as far as I can follow! + +_Ghostly Voices_ (_in the Irritable Person's ear as before_). "Your +_wife_?" "Yes, my wife, and the only woman in the world I ever loved!" + +_The Irr. P._ (_pleased, to himself._) Come, now I'm getting +accustomed to it, I can hear capitally! + +_The Voices_. Then why have you--?...I will tell you all. Twenty-five +years ago, when a shinder foodle in the Borjeezlers I-- + +_A Still Small Voice_ (_in everybody's ear_). TIME, PLEASE. + +_Everybody_ (_dropping the tubes, startled._) Where did _that_ come +from? + +_The Com. M._ They've been and cut it off at the main--just when it +was getting interesting! + +_His Fiancee_. Well, I can't say I made out much of the plot myself. + +_The Com. M._ I made out enough to cover a sixpence, anyhow. You +didn't expect the telephone to explain it all to you goin' along, and +give you cawfee between the Acts, did you? + +_The Ch. O.G._ (_sidling affably up to the Irritable Person as he +is moving out_). Marvellous strides Science has made of late, Sir! +Almost incredible. I declare to _you_, while I was sitting there, I +positively felt inclined to ask myself the question-- + +_The Irr. P._ Allow me to say, Sir, that another time, if you will +obey that inclination, and put the question to yourself instead of +other people, you will be a more desirable neighbour in a Telephone +Room than, I confess I found you! + + [_He turns on his heel, indignantly._ + +_The Ch. O.G._ (_to himself_). 'Strordinary what unsociable people one +_does_ come across at times! Now I 'm always ready to talk to anybody, +I am--don't care _who_ they are. Well--well-- [_He walks on, musing._ + + * * * * * + +[Illustration: QUITE NATURAL. + +_Mamma._ "ETHEL DEAR, WHY WON'T YOU SAY GOOD-BYE TO THIS GENTLEMAN? HE +IS VERY KIND!" + +_Ethel._ "BECAUSE, MUMMY DEAR, YOU TOLD HIM JUST NOW HE IS 'THE LION +OF THE SEASON,'--AND I AM SO FRIGHTENED!"] + + * * * * * + +"DE PROFUNDIS." + +(_BY AN INDIGNANT "OUTSIDER."_) + + A masterpiece, worthy of TURNER, + Was mine, there my friends all agree, + No work of a pot-boiling learner, + My "_View on the Dee_." + + A place on the line I expected, + Associate shortly to be! + Hang me, if it isn't rejected, + And marked with a D! + + I will not repeat what I uttered + When this was reported to me; + The mere monosyllable muttered + Begins with a D. + + * * * * * + +ON THE (POST) CARDS. + + ["Sir JAMES FERGUSSON does not hesitate to declare his opinion + that rudeness or incivility on the part of a Post-Office + servant is, next to dishonesty, one of the worst offences + he can commit. This notice is not addressed to men alone. + Of the young women employed by the department, there are, he + says, some, if not many, whom it is impossible to acquit of + inattention and levity in the discharge of their official + duties. It is Sir JAMES FERGUSSON's intention to ascertain, at + short intervals, the effect of this notice on the behaviour of + Post-Office officials generally."--_Daily Paper_.] + + SCENE--_Interior of a Post Office. Female Employees engaged + in congenial pursuits._ + +_First Emp._ (_ending story_). And so she never got the bouquet, after +all, and he went to Margate, without even saying good-bye. + +_Second Emp._ (_her Friend_). Well, that was hard upon her! + +_First Member of the Public_ (_entering briskly and putting coppers on +the counter_). Now then, three penny stamps, please! + +_First Emp._ (_to her Friend_). Yes, as you say, it _was_ hard, as of +course the matter of the pic-nic was no affair of hers. + +_Second Emp._ (_sympathetically_). Of course not! They are all alike, +my dear!--all alike! + +_First Mem. of the Pub._ (_impatiently_). Now then, three penny stamps +please! + +_First Emp._ Well, you are in a hurry! (_To her Friend_). And from +that day to this she has never heard from him. + +_Second Emp._ And it would have been so easy to drop her a postcard +from Herne Bay. + +_First Mem. of the Pub._ Am I to be kept waiting all day? Three penny +postage-stamps, please. + +_First Emp._ (_leisurely_). What do you want? + +_First Mem. of the Pub._ (_angrily_). Three penny postage-stamps, and +look sharp about it! + +_First Emp._ (_giving stamp_). Threepence. + +_First Mem. of the Pub._ (_furious_). A threepenny stamp! I want three +penny stamps. Three stamps costing a penny each. See? + +_First Emp._ (_with calm unconcern_). Then why didn't you say so +before? (_Supplies stamps and turns to Friend._) Then MARIA of course +wanted to go to Birchington. + +_Second Emp._ Why Birchington? Why did she want to go to Birchington? + +_First Emp._ Well--_he_ of course was at Herne Bay. + +_Second Emp._ Ah, now I begin to understand her artfulness. + +_First Emp._ Ah, there you are right, my dear! She _was_ artful! + + [_Enter Second Member of the Public, covered up in cloaks and + only showing the tip of his nose._ + +_Second Mem. of the Pub._ (_in a feeble voice_). Can you tell me, +please, when the Mail starts for India? + +_First Emp._ Well, the sea air _is_ the sea air. And that reminds me, +what do you think of this tobacco-pouch for-- + +_Second Emp._ (_archly_). For I know who! Why, you have got his +initials in forget-me-nots! + +_First Emp._ I think them so pretty, and they are very easy to do. + +_Second Mem. of the Pub._ (_in a rather louder voice_). Can you tell +me, please, when the Mail starts for India? + +_Second Emp._ I must say, dear, you have the most perfect taste. +Well, he will be ungrateful if he isn't charmed with them! Absolutely +charmed! + +_Second Mem, of the Pub._ (_louder still_). Will you be so good as to +say when the Mail starts for India? + +_First Emp._ Oh, you _are_ in a hurry! (_To Friend._) Yes, I took +a lot of trouble in getting the gold beads. There is only one place +where you can get them. They don't sell them at the Stores. + +_Second Mem. of the Pub._ (_in a loud tone of voice_). Again I ask you +when the Mail leaves for India? + +_Second Emp._ And yet you can get almost anything you want there. Only +it's a terrible nuisance going from one place to another. + +_Second Mem. of the Pub._ (_in a voice of thunder_). Silence! You are +an impudent set! You are calculated to injure the class to whom you +belong! I am ashamed of you! + +_First Emp._ And who may you be? + +_Second Mem. of the Pub._ Whom may I be? I will tell you! (_Throws off +his disguise_.) I am the Postmaster-General!!! + + [_Scene closes in upon a tableau suggestive of astonishment, + contrition and excitement._ + + * * * * * + +ITS LATEST APPLICATION.--Chorus for Royal Academicians, for Monday +next:--"Ta-R.A.-R.A.-Boom-to-day!" + + * * * * * + +[Illustration: HISTORY EXAMS. + +(_Effects on Education of Modern Advertising._) + +"WHO WAS BORN IN CORSICA?" (_Silence._) "TRY AND THINK--AND DIED IN +ST. HELENA?" + +"OH, OF COURSE--I KNOW! THE GREAT SAPOLIO!"] + + * * * * * + +TO THE NEW "QUEEN OF THE MAY". + +(A HYMN OF HONEST LABOUR.) + +_After the Proclamation of the Anarchist Manifestoes, (With Apologies +to the Author of the magnificent "Hymn to Proserpine.")_ + + ["For the third time the International mobilises its + battalions.... Already the mere mention of the magical word + 'May-Day' throws the _bourgeoisie_ into a state of nervous + trembling, and its cowardice only finds refuge in cynicism and + ferocity. But whether the wretch (the _bourgeoisie_) likes + it or not, the end draws nigh. Capitalist robbery is going + to perish in mud and shame.... The conscious proletariat + organises itself, and marches towards its emancipation. + You can have it all your own way presently; proletarians + of the whole world, serfs of the factory, the men of the + workshop, the office, and the shop, who are mercilessly + exploited and pitilessly assassinated.... For, lo! '93 + reappears on the horizon.... 'Vive l'Internationale + des Travailleurs!'"--_Manifesto of the May-Day Labour + Demonstration Executive Committee_.] + + Have we lived long enough to have seen one thing, that hate hath + no end? + Goddess, and maiden, and queen, must we hail _you_ as Labour's + true friend?-- + Will you give us a prosperous morrow, and comfort the millions who + weep? + Will you give them joy for their sorrow, sweet labour, and + satisfied sleep? + Sweet is the fragrance of flowers, and soft are the wings of the + dove, + And no goodlier gift is there given than the dower of brotherly + love; + But you, O May-Day Medusa, whose glance makes the heart turn cold, + Art a bitter Goddess to follow, a terrible Queen to behold. + We are sick of spouting--the words burn deep and chafe: we are fain, + To rest a little from clap-trap, and probe the wild promise of gain. + For new gods we know not of are acclaimed by all babbledom's breath, + And they promise us love-inspired life--by the red road of hatred + and death. + The gods, dethroned and deceased, cast forth--so the chatterers + say-- + Are banished with Flora and Pan, and behold our new Queen of the + May! + New Queen, fresh crowned in the city, flower-drest, her + snake-sceptre a rod, + Her orb a decked dynamite bomb, which shall shatter all earth at + her nod; + But for us their newest device seems barren, and did they but dare + To bare the new Queen of the May, were she angel or demon _when_ + bare? + + Time and old gods are at strife; we dwell in the midst thereof, + And they are but foolish who curse, and they are but shallow who + scoff. + Let hate die out, take rest, poor workers, be all at peace; + Let the angry battle abate, and the barren bitterness cease! + Ah, pleasant and pastoral picture! Thrice welcome whoever shall + bring + The sunshine of love after Winter, the blossoms of joy with the + Spring! + Wilt THOU bring it, O new May Queen? If thou canst, come and rule + us, and take + The laurel, the palm, and the paean; all bondage but thine we would + break, + And welcome the branch and the dove. But we look, and we hold our + breath, + That is not the visage of Love, and beneath the piled blossoms + lurks--Death! + + A Society all of Love and of Brotherhood! Beautiful dream! + But alas for this Promise of May! Do not Labour's Floralia seem + As flower-feasts fair to her followers? Look on the wreaths at her + feet, + Flung by enthusiast hands from the mine, and the mill, and the + street, + Piled flower-offerings, thine, Proletariat Queen of the May! + And what means the new Bona Dea? and what would her suppliants say? + Organised strength, solidarity, power to band and to strike, + Hope that is native to Spring,--and Hate, in all seasons alike; + Mutual trust of the many--and menace malign for the few. + Citizen, capitalist,--ah! the hours of _your_ empire seem few, + An empire ill-gendered, unjust, blindly selfish, and heartlessly + strong + For the crushing of famishing weakness, the rearing of + wealth-founded wrong. + Few, if these throngs have their will, for the fierce proletariat + throbs + For revenge on the full-fed _Bourgeoisie_ which ruthlessly harries + and robs. + 'Tis fired with alarms, and it arms with hot haste for the + imminent fray, + For it quakes at the tramp of King Mob, and the thought of this + Queen of the May. + The bandit of Capital falls, and shall perish in shame and in filth! + The harvest of Labour's at hand!--The harvest; but red is the + And the reapers are wrathful and rash, and the swift-wielded + sickle that strives + For the sheaves, not the gleaners' scant ears, seems agog for the + reaping of--lives! + Assassins of Capital? Aye! And their weakening force will ye mee + With assassins of Labour? Shall Brotherhood redden the field and + the street? + Beware of the bad black old lesson! Behold, and look close, and + beware! + There are flowers at your newly-built shrine, is the evil old + serpent not there? + +[Illustration: THE NEW "QUEEN OF THE MAY."] + + The sword-edge and snake-bite, though hidden in blossoms, are + hatred's old arms. + And what is your May Queen at heart, oh, true hearts, that succumb + to her charms? + Dropped and deep in the blossoms, with eyes that flicker like fir + The asp of Murder lies hid, which with poison shall feed your + desire. + More than these things will she give, who looks fairer than all + these things? + Not while her sceptre's a snake, and her orb the red horror that + rings + Devilish, foul, round the world; while the hiss and the roar are + the voice + Of this monstrous new Queen of the May, in whose rule you would + bid us rejoice. + + * * * * * + +MR. PUNCH'S UP-TO-DATE POETRY FOR CHILDREN. + +NO. II.--"LITTLE JACK HORNER." + +[Illustration] + + LITTLE JACK HORNER, + He sat in the corner, + And cried for his "Mummy!" and "Nuss!" + For, while eating his cake, + He had got by mistake + In a horrid piratical 'bus. + + Now, some ten minutes back, + You'd have seen little JACK + From an Aerated Bread Shop emerge, + And proceed down the Strand-- + Slice of cake in his hand-- + In a crumb-covered suit of blue serge. + + To be perfectly frank, + He was bound for the Bank, + For it chanced to be dividend day, + And he jumped on the 'bus, + After reasoning thus-- + In his logical juvenile way:-- + + "Here's a 'bus passing by, + And I cannot see why + I should weary my infantile feet; + I've a copper to spare, + And the authorised fare + Is a penny to Liverpool Street." + + As the 'bus cantered on, + Little cake-eating JOHN + In the corner contentedly sat, + And with that one and this + (Whether Mister or Miss) + Had a meteorological chat. + + Came a bolt from the blue + When, collecting his due, + The conductor remarked, "Though I thank + That young cake-eating gent + For the penny he's sent, + It's a _tuppenny_ ride to the Bank!" + + "You're a pirate!" sobbed JACK, + "And your colours are black!" + But he heard--as he struggled to speak-- + The conductor observe, + With remarkable verve, + That he didn't want none of his cheek! + + With a want of regard, + He demanded JACK's card. + And young HORNER was summoned next day, + When the poor little lad + Lost the battle, and had + All the costs in addition to pay. + + Now the Moral is this: + Little Master and Miss, + Whom I'm writing these verses to please; + If your tiny feet ache, + Then a 'bus you may take, + _But be sure it's an L.G.O.C.'s!_ + + * * * * * + +A CURSORY OBSERVATION. + +From the _Figaro_ for Dimanche, April 17, we make this extract:-- + + "SPORTS ATHLETIQUES.--Le match international de foot ball + entre le Stade Francais et le Rosslyn Park foot ball Club de + Londres sera joue demain sur le terrain du Cursing Club de + France a Levallois. L'equipe anglaise est arrivee a Paris hier + soir. Le match sera preside par le marquis de Dufferin." + +"The Cursing Club!" What an awful name! For what purpose are they +banded together? Is it to curse one another by their gods? to issue +forth on _premieres_ to damn a new play? What fearful language would +be just audible, curses, not loud but deep, during the progress of +the Foot-ball Match over which the Marquis of DUFFERIN is to preside! +It is all over by now; but the result we have not seen. We hope there +is no Cursing Club in England. There existed, once upon a time, in +London, a Club with an awful Tartarian name, which might have been a +parent society to a Cursing Club. Let us trust-- + + [*** The Editor puts short the article at this point, being + of opinion that "Cursing" is only a misprint for "Coursing;" + or, if not, he certainly gives _Le Figaro_ the benefit of the + doubt. Note, also, that the match was to be played on "Cursing + Club Ground," lent for the occasion, and was not to be played + by Members of the "C.C."] + + * * * * * + +THE LAY OF THE LITERARY AUTOLYCUS. + +(_SEE CORRESPONDENCE IN THE TIMES ON "LITERARY THEFTS."_) + +_Enter AUTOLYCUS, singing._ + + When books and magazines appear, + With heigh! the hopes of a big sale!-- + Why, then comes in the cheat o' the year, + And picks their plums, talk, song, or tale. + + The white sheets come, each page my "perk," + With heigh! sweet bards, O how they sing!-- + With paste and scissors I set to work; + Shall a stolen song cost anything? + + The Poet tirra-lirra chants, + With heigh! with heigh! he _must_ be a J.-- + His Summer songs supply my wants; + They cost me nought--but, ah! they _pay_. + +I have served Literature in my time, but now Literature is in _my_ +service. + + But shall I pay for what comes dear, + To the pale scribes who write,-- + For news, and jokes, and stories queer? + Walker! my friends, not quite! + Since filchers may have leave to live, + And vend their "borrowed" budget, + For all my "notions" nix I'll give, + Then sell them as I trudge it. + +My traffic is (news) sheets. My father named me AUTOLYCUS, who, +being as I am, littered under Mercury, was likewise a snapper-up +of unconsidered trifles. With paste and scissors I procured this +caparison; and my revenue is the uninquiring public; gallows and gaol +are too powerful on the highway; picking and treadmilling are terrors +to burglars; but in _my_ line of theft I sleep free from the thought +of them. A prize! a prize!... + + Jog on, jog on, the foot-pad way, + In the modern Sikes's style-a: + Punctilious fools prefer to _pay_; + But I at scruples smile-a. + +... Ha, ha! what a fool Honesty is! and Trust, his sworn brother, a +very simple gentleman ... I understand the business, do it; to have an +open ear, a quick eye, and a nimble hand with the shears is necessary +for a (literary) cutpurse; a good nose is requisite also, to smell out +the good work of other people. I see this is the time that the unjust +man doth thrive. + + * * * * * + +THE WELLINGTON MONUMENT. + +[Illustration] + + At last! How long ago the time + When England's paltry meanness killed + Her greatest Sculptor in his prime. + And hid his work, now called sublime, + In narrow space so nearly filled! + + When, using Art beyond her taste, + Her greatest Captain's tomb he wrought, + That noblest effort was disgraced,-- + It seemed to her a needless waste, + The Budget Surplus was her thought. + + Now may she, with some sense of shame, + Amend the errors of the past, + Show honour to the Great Duke's name, + Repair the wrong to STEPHENS' fame, + And move the Monument at last! + + * * * * * + +"KNOW ALL MEN BY THESE PRESENTS." + +It is believed that the Rossendale Union of Liberal Clubs, having +given a pair of slippers, a rug, and two pieces of cretonne to Mr. +GLADSTONE, will also make the following presents, in due course:-- + +_Sir W. L-ws-n._--Twelve dozen Tea-cosies, and ten yards of blue +Ribbon. + +_Mr. L-b-ch-re._--A Jester's cap. + +_Sir W.V. H-rc-rt._--A Spencer, without arms, but emblazoned with +those of the Plantagenets. + +_Mr. M-cl-re._--A Hood. + +_Mr. McN-ll._--A knitted Respirator, to be worn in the House. + +_Lord R. Ch-rch-ll._--Twelve dozen table-cloths, twenty-four dozen +Dinner-napkins, and thirty-six dozen Pudding-cloths. + +_Sir E. Cl-rke._--A scarlet Jersey, inscribed "Salvation Army." + +_Mr. R. Sp-nc-r._--A Smock Frock. + +_Mr. B-lf-r._--Some Collars of Irish linen, and one of hemp, the +latter to be supplied by the Irish patriots in America. + +_Mr. E. St-nh-pe._--A Necktie of green poplin, embroidered with +shamrocks. + +_Mr. M. H-ly._--An Ulster. + +_Col. S-nd-rs-n._--A Cork jacket. + +_Mr. W. O'Br-n._--A pair of Tr----rs, in fancy cretonne. + +_Sir G.O. Tr-v-ly-n._--A Coat (reversible). + +_Mr. C. C-nyb-re._--A Waistcoat (strait). + + * * * * * + +[Illustration: "UNDERSTOOD." + +"I SAY, DUBOIS, YOU _DO_ KNOW HOW TO LAY IT ON THICK, OLD MAN! I +LIKE YOUR CHEEK TELLING MISS BROWN SHE SPOKE FRENCH WITHOUT THE LEAST +ACCENT!" + +"VY, CERTAINEMENT, MON AMI--VIZOUT ZE LEAST _FRENCH_ ACCENT!"] + + * * * * * + +"THE (SOLDIERS') LIFE WE LIVE." + +(_Imaginary Evidence that should be added to the Report of Lord +Wantage's Committee._) + +_Chairman._ I think your name is RICHARD REDMOND? + +_Witness._ I beg pardon, my Lord and Gentlemen--DICK REDMOND--simple, +gushing, explosive DICK. + +_Chair._ Have you been known by any other name? + +_Wit._ Off duty, my Lord, I have been called CHARLES WARNER. Nay, +why should I not confess it?--CHARLIE WARNER. Yes, my Lord, CHARLIE +WARNER! + +_Chair._ You wish to describe how you were enlisted? + +_Wit._ Yes, my Lord. It was in this way. I had returned from +some races in a dog-cart with a villain. We stopped at a wayside +public-house kept by a comic Irishman. + +_Chair._ Are these details necessary? + +_Wit._ Hear me, my Lord; hear me! I confess it, I took too much to +drink. Yes, my Lord, I was drunk! And then a Sergeant in the Dragoon +Guards gave me a shilling, and placed some ribands in my pot-hat, +and--well--I was a soldier! Yes, a soldier! And as a soldier was +refused permission to visit my dying mother! + +_Chair._ Were there no other legal formalities in connection with +your enlistment? For instance--Were you not taken before an attesting +Magistrate? + +_Wit._ No, my Lord, no! I was carried off protesting, while my +villanous friend disappeared with my sweetheart! It was cruel, my Lord +and Gentlemen! It was very cruel! + +_Chair._ Did you desert? + +_Wit._ I did, my Lord--after I had obtained a uniform fitting closely +to the figure; but it was only that I might obtain the blessing of my +mother! And when I returned home the soldiers followed me--and might +have killed me! + +_Chair._ How was that? + +_Wit._ When I had taken refuge in a haystack, they prodded the +haystack with their swords! And this is life in the Army! + +_Chair._ Were you arrested on discovery? + +_Wit._ No; they spared me that indignity! They saw, my Lord, that my +mother was dying, and respectfully fell back while I assisted the old +Lady to pass away peacefully. But then, after all, they were men. In +spite of their red patrol jackets, brass helmets, and no spurs, they +were men, my Lord,--men! And, as soldiers, after I had broken from +prison, and was accused of murder, they again released me, because +some one promised to buy my discharge! + +_Chair._ And where are you quartered? + +_Wit._ At the Royal Princess's Theatre, Oxford Street, where I have +these strange experiences of discipline, and where I am enlisted in +the unconventional, not to say illegal, way I have described, nightly; +nay, sometimes twice daily! + +_Chair._ And why have you proffered your evidence? + +_Wit._ Because I think the Public ought to know, my Lord, the great +services afforded by the most recent Melodrama to the popularity of +the Army, and--yes, the cause of recruiting! + + [_The Witness then withdrew._ + + * * * * * + +HOW THEY BRING THE GOOD NEWS! + + All the papers teeming + With, the news of DEEMING + On the shore or ship; + Telling of his tearing + Hair that he was wearing + From his upper lip. + + (T-SS-D, rush! Pursue it! + Buy it, bring it, glue it + On your model! Quick!) + Telling how he's looking, + How he likes the cooking,-- + Bah, it makes one sick! + + Telling of his bearing, + How the crowds are staring, + What may be his fate, + Just what clothes he wore the + Days he came before the + Local Magistrate. + + And, verbatim printed + All he's said or hinted + As to any deeds; + Such a chance as this is + Not a paper misses! + Everybody reads! + + Would they give such latest + News of best and greatest + Folks? What's that you say? + Who would read of virtue, + Or such news insert? You + Know it would not pay. + + So, demand creating + Such supply, they're stating + All that they can tell; + Spite of School-Board teaching, + Culture, science, preaching, + This is sure to sell. + + * * * * * + +[Illustration: THE END OF THE SEASON. AU REVOIR!] + + * * * * * + +[Illustration: STAIRCASE SCENES.--NO. 1. PRIVATE VIEW, ROYAL ACADEMY.] + + * * * * * + +THE YOUNG GIRL'S COMPANION. + +(_BY MRS. PAYLEY,_) + +II.--DINING-OUT. + +I can quite understand that a young girl may not care much for the +mere material dinner. The palate is a pleasure of maturity. The +woman of fifty probably includes a menu or two among her most sacred +memories; but the young girl is capable of dining on part of a cutlet, +any pink sweetmeat, and some tea. But I must confess that I was +surprised at another objection to dining-out that a young girl, only +at the end of her second season, once made to me. She said that she +positively could not stand any longer the conversation of the average +young man of Society. I asked her why, and she then asserted that this +sort of young man confined himself to flat badinage and personal brag, +which he was mistaken in believing to be veiled. What she said was, +of course, perfectly true. Civilisation is responsible for the flat +badinage, for civilisation requires that conversation shall be light +and amusing, but can provide no remedy for slow wits; on the other +hand, the personal brag is a relic of the original man. The badinage +is the young man's defect in art; the brag is his defect in nature. +But I fail to see any objection to such conversation; on the contrary, +it is charming because it _is_ so average; you know beforehand just +what you will hear and just what you will say, and everything is +consequently made easy. The man puts on that kind of talk just as +he puts on his dress-coat; both are part of the evening uniform. The +motto of the perfect young man of Society is "I resemble." I pointed +all this out to the young girl in question, and she retorted that +it was a pity that silence was a lost art. However, she continued to +dine-out and to take her part in the only possible conversation, and +after all Society rather encourages theoretical rebellion, provided +that it is accompanied by practical submission. + +[Illustration] + +From the point of view of sentiment, a dinner has less potentialities +than a dance; but the dinner may begin what the dance will end; you +set light to the fuse in the dining-room, and the explosion takes +place six weeks afterwards in someone-else's conservatory. Nothing +much can be done on the staircase; but, if you can decently pretend +that you have heard of the young man who is taking you in, he will +probably like it. If, after a few minutes, you decide that it is +worth while to interest the young man, discourage his flat badinage, +and encourage his personal brag. The only thing in which it is quite +certain that every man will be interested is, the interest someone +else takes in him. Later on, he will probably be induced to illustrate +the topic of conversation by telling you (if it would not bore you) +of a little incident which happened to himself. The incident will be +prettily coloured for dinner-table use, and he will make the story +prove a merit in himself, which he will take care to disclaim vainly. +When he has finished, look very meditatively at your plate, as if you +saw visions in it, and then turn on him suddenly with wide eyes--with +the right kind of eyelashes, this is effective. + +"I suppose you don't know it, Mr. BLANK," you tell him, "but really I +can't help saying it. You behaved splendidly--splendidly!" + +Droop the eyelashes quickly, and become meditative again. He will +deprecate your compliment a little incoherently. + +"Not at all, not at all--Miss--er--ASTERISK--I really--assure +you--nothing more than any--er--other man would have done. Some +other people at the time told me"--(_laughs nervously_)--"very +much--er--what you have just said, but--er--personally, +I--really--could never see it, or of course I wouldn't have mentioned +it to you." + +Your rejoinder will depend a good deal on how far you mean to go, and +how much of that kind of thing you think you can stand. If you like, +you can drop your handkerchief or your glove when you rise; it will +please him to pick it up for you, and he will feel, for a moment, as +if he had saved your life. + +If you do not want to please the man, but only to show your own +superiority, it may perhaps be as well to remember that women are +better than men, as a rule, in flat badinage. Men talk best when they +are by themselves, but they are liable to be painfully natural at such +times. I had some little difficulty in finding this out, but I thought +it my duty to know, and--well, I _do_ know. + +The correspondence that I have received has not been altogether +pleasant. I have had one letter from ETHEL (aged thirteen) saying that +she thinks me a mean sneak for prying into other people's Diaries. +I can only reply that I was acting for the public good. I have had +a sweet letter, however, from "AZALEA." She has been absolutely +compelled, by force of circumstances, to allow the distinct attentions +of three different men. She does not give the names of the men, only +descriptions, but I should advise her to keep the dark one. She can +see the will at Somerset House. "JANE" writes to ask what is the best +cure for freckles. I do not answer questions of that kind. I have +replied to my other correspondents privately. + + * * * * * + +REPULSING THE AMAZONS. + +(_SEE CARTOON, "ARMING THE AMAZONS," DEC. 5, 1891._) + +[Illustration] + + Arming the Amazons against the Greeks? + That PRIAM SALISBURY tried some few short weeks + Before the present fray. FAWCETTA fair + Had prayed; the question then seemed "in the air," + And PRIAM proffered then the Franchise-spear, + (A shadowy one, that gave no grounds for fear,) + To poor PENTHESILEA. + Now, ah, now + ROLLITTUS moves, there's going to be a row, + And lo! the mingled ranks of Greece and Troy + Close 'gainst the Amazons. Her steed, a toy, + A hobby-horse, that any maid may mount, + Is not--just now--of any great account. + Her phantom spear will pierce no stout male mail; + But should ROLLITTUS _not_--(confound him!)--fail, + A female host, well armed, and _not_ on hobbies, + Might prove as dangerous as a batch of Bobbies. + The fair FAWCETTA then must be thrown over; + PENTHESILEA finds no hero-lover + In either host. PRIAM, abroad, is dumb. + Ah, maiden-hosts, man's love for you's a hum. + Each fears you--in the foeman's cohorts thrown, + But _neither side desires you in its own!_ + The false GLADSTONIUS first, he whom you nourish, + A snake in your spare bosoms, dares to flourish + Fresh arms against you; potent, though polite, + He fain would bow you out of the big fight, + Civilly shelve you. "Don't kick up a row, + And--spoil my game! Another day, not now, + There's a _dear_ creature!" CHAMBERLAINIUS, too, + Hard as a nail, and squirmy as a screw, + Sides with the elder hero, just for once; + CHAPLINIUS also, active for the nonce + On the Greek side, makes up the Traitrous Three, + One from each faction! Ah! 'tis sad to see + PENTHESILEA, fierce male foes unite + In keeping female warriors from the fight; + Yet think, look round, and--you _may_ find they're right! + + * * * * * + +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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