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| author | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-15 04:46:09 -0700 |
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| committer | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-15 04:46:09 -0700 |
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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/15166-8.txt b/15166-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..13fa9d5 --- /dev/null +++ b/15166-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,1565 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Punch, or the London Charivari, Vol. 103, +September 3, 1892, by Various + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Punch, or the London Charivari, Vol. 103, September 3, 1892 + +Author: Various + +Release Date: February 25, 2005 [EBook #15166] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PUNCH *** + + + + +Produced by Malcolm Farmer, William Flis, and the PG Online +Distributed Proofreading Team. + + + + + +PUNCH, + +OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. + +VOL. 103. + + + +September 3, 1892. + + + + +[Illustration: HAPPY THOUGHT. + +_Obliging Country Butcher_. "LET ME CUT IT INTO CUTLETS FOR YOU, +MA'AM,--LEAVING JUST ENOUGH BONE FOR YOU TO HOLD 'EM BY, WHILE YOU'RE +EATING 'EM!"] + + * * * * * + +NOT GOING AWAY FOR THE HOLIDAYS. + +_Cookson Gaze, Q.C._ Because MARIA votes Eastbourne vulgar, and the +girls (sorry now I sent them to that finishing-school at Clapham) +laugh so consumedly whenever I open my mouth to address a native if we +go to Trouville or Dinard. + +_C. Jumper_. Because the Governor thinks three days in the year enough +for anybody. + +_Eastend Dr._ Because that fiver will just give little SALLY the +breath of sea-air she wants, and she'll never make a good cure unless +she has it. + +_Reg. Rake_. Because wife says she shall certainly accompany me. + +_Barmaid_. Because I've just been ill for a fortnight from overwork, +and the Company say they can't give any more leave. + +_Eastend Clergyman_ (_of any church._) Because there are hundreds who +want it more than I do, and I must help them to get a change first. + +_Major Hornblower_. Because MACCRACSHOTT (the only man who has asked +me) was in the smoking-room the night I was fool enough to tell that +Snipe and Rhinoceros Story of PEYTON's in the first person. + +_Quiverful_. Because there's another pair. + + * * * * * + +EPITAPH ON AN OLD CRICKETER'S TOMBSTONE.--"Out at 70." + + * * * * * + +MUSICAL NOTES. + +_Popping a Question._--The _Daily News_, in its last week's "Music and +Musicians," informs us that "Mr. CHAPPELL has now definitely decided +that the season of Monday Popular Concerts shall this year commence +on a Tuesday." Sure then it must be Mister O'CHAPPELL, the CHAPPELL +by the hill-side, who arranges to have his first "Monday Pop" on a +Tuesday? If he be going out shooting on his own native heath, his name +O'CHAPPELL, then there's no reason why he shouldn't have his first pop +on a Tuesday, only it couldn't be his Monday Pop, could it now? Or if +he drinks _Mr. P.'s_ health in Pommery '80 (_grand vin!_), or let's +say Poppery '80, he could do so on a Tuesday, only it would no longer +be the "Monday Pop." That's all. Sure 'tis mighty confusing and upsets +the week entirely. If Tuesday is to have all the Pop, what's to become +of Monday? For further particulars inquire at the Pop-shop, Bond +Street. + +The next great Musical Event is at the Gloucester Festival--it is +Dr. HUBERT PARRY "on the Job." This, though the work of a thoroughly +English Composer, may yet be considered as an "_Article de Parry_." + + * * * * * + +"MARS IN OPPOSITION."--"Mother says I mustn't." + + * * * * * + +THIS PICTURE AND THAT. + +(_EXTRACTS FROM THE DIARY OF A LOVER OF THE BEAUTIFUL._) + +_First Extract_.--Really an excellent notion to buy an estate, instead +of picking up what Mr. RUDYARD KIPLING calls a "smeared thing." Got +one, too, pretty cheap. Twenty miles from a railway station, but so +much the better. RUSKIN hates railway stations, and so do I. Never can +make them look picturesque. The Agent tells me my place is famous for +its sunsets; also good moonlight effects on occasions. Pretty village, +too, in the background. Altogether, most satisfactory. After all, +Nature is much better than Art. + +_Second Extract_.--Dullerton-on-the-Slush is a charming spot, but +it has its drawbacks. Pretty, but damp. Fog interferes a good deal +with the sunsets, and hides the moon at the wrong moment. Village +deliciously out of repair. But tenants unreasonable. Offered to put up +some red brick roofs for them, which would have looked charming, but +they insist upon having slates. Wish they would consent to having +a few cows in the fields, but they say they prefer pigstyes. Have +consulted a builder and a gardener, and they think that they could +"run up" a stye between them, and cover it over with shrubs. Tenants +object. They say the pigs would not like it, and might eat the shrubs +with fatal results. All this annoying, but still the view from my +dining-room window charming. It reminds me not a little of CONSTABLE, +LINNELL, not to say Old CROME. + +_Third Extract_.--Further troubles. Tenants are really very +disagreeable, and they have no feeling for Art. They have cut down +a lot of ornamental trees, and they won't grow the right sort of +crops,--I mean from a picturesque point of view. As agriculturists +they may be all right, but that's not my point. I did not buy the +estate to try how "roots" would thrive. Then they will burn weeds, +and hang out clothes to dry--clothes without any regard to contrast +of colour. Eyesores meet me everywhere. I am really not sure whether I +acted wisely in trusting to a House-agent instead of a Picture-dealer. +"Pictures by Nature" are not as reliable as they should be. + +_Fourth Extract_.--This is really too bad! A perambulating Circus +has pitched its tent on the Village Green! When I say tent, I make a +mistake; it is a beastly ugly iron thing, that looks simply hideous, +and from the durable stoutness of its construction, it evidently is +going to be a fixture for some time. My tenants support the Circus +people, and my Agent tells me, that if I interfere, my life will be +made a burden to me. It appears my tenants are "a very unruly lot when +they are irritated." Pleasant! + +_Fifth Extract_.--The Circus won't go. And now I find I can't get any +of my rents. My agent tells me, that my tenants never would settle +with their last landlord. Besides, they expect me to pay for the +damage done to their dwellings by the floods. They say it was my +fault, because I would put up a bank and plantation in my back garden. +Only light in the general gloom is, the prospect my Agent holds out +to me of getting rid of the property for me to another lover of the +picturesque. Scarcely fair; but after all, or rather before all, must +take care of Number One. + +_Last Extract_.--Hurray! Sold my estate to another fellow. However, on +looking over my accounts, I fancy I should have found it cheaper if, +in the first instance, I had bought a chromo lithograph! + + * * * * * + +EPITAPH.--An Alpining Traveller sends us, on the "Bär" Hotel lately +destroyed at Grindelwald, the following adapted and reversified +quotation:-- + + "Good-bye to the Bär-- + And it's moaning" we are! + + * * * * * + +[Illustration: "SUMMER VOLUPTAS." + +_Toby_ (_sings_). "MY BARQUE IS ON THE SEA!"] + + * * * * * + +SONGS OUT OF SEASON. + +NO. I.--DISORGANISED. + + Still in London now you'll find me, + Still detained against my will; + And I wish, distinctly, mind me, + To accentuate the "_still_;" + It's a sort of consolation, + As I sit, and fume, and frown, + That the greatest botheration + Of my life is out of town. + + + He who used to grind "_She Wore a + Wreath of Roses_" every day, + And "Selections from _Dinorah_," + And--"_Ta-ra-ra-Boom-de-ay_." + With his execrable smiling, + And exasperating din, + Must, I needs infer, be riling + Some one else with grind and grin. + + He who seemed, in fact, delighted, + And a kiss--the fiend!--would blow, + When I got a bit excited, + And exclaimed "_Al Diavolo_!" + Who, with unabashed assurance, + Only beamed the more, and kissed, + If, incensed beyond endurance, + In his face I shook my fist. + + He has earned his little outing, + This excruciating cove, + And his instrument is flouting + Bath, or Scarborough, or Hove. + For the moment I can get a + Peaceful interim, and free-- + But he cherishes vendetta, + This Italian count, to me. + + Yes! Perhaps, indeed, 'twere kinder, + Had he ne'er relaxed his track; + He'll return, that grinning grinder, + Reinvigorated, back! + Then, as I remarked before, a + Spell of doom for me remains, + With "Selections from _Dinorah_," + And his other worse refrains. + + * * * * * + +WHY I DON'T GO OUT OF TOWN, FOR THE AUTUMN?--Because I've been pretty +well everywhere, but always _quite_ well in London. + + * * * * * + +[Illustration: BRIC À BRAC. + +_Lady Croesus_. "OH, WHAT A SWEET TABLE! WHERE DID YOU GET IT, MY +DEAR? OH, I SEE HERE'S THE MAN'S CARD." (_Spelling the label._) +"'TABLE--LOUIS QUINZE.' LOUIS QUINZEY! WHAT A HORRID NAME! AND WHY +HASN'T HE PUT HIS ADDRESS?"] + + * * * * * + +THE GERMAN WATERS. + + A promenade with tongues alive + That every phrase of OLLENDORFF use; + And "_Luther's Hymn_" at half-past five + To drag you from the arms of Morpheus; + Fat Germans in their awful "Fracks," + Pale Frenchmen, too, a bit _décolletés_, + And dapper Britons with attacks + Of livers and digestions faulty. + + A garden fair with "Quellen" foul-- + _Ach, Himmel_! How they taste those "Quellen"! + Then rolls and coffee, next a prowl + Among the shops with JANE or ELLEN; + The mid-day meal at _table d'hôte_, + All windows closed--a climate hellish!-- + With dishes too crackjaw to quote, + And sometimes difficult to relish. + + An afternoon of drowsy drives-- + How these poor foreigners love driving + To places where, when one arrives, + There's nought for which it's worth arriving!-- + A "Belvedere"--like Primrose Hill, + A "Gartenhaus," tobacco-scented; + Yet there they smoke, and moon, and swill, + Quite adipose, and self-contented. + + A "Kursaal," very large, and fine; + A Theatre, small, and shabby-splendid; + More beer, more music, ditto wine + (This latter can be much commended). + The Military (each salutes!) + With HANNCHEN on their arm or MARIE; + I wonder where they get those boots-- + I mean, of course, the Military. + + Lawn-Tennis and an "English Club," + Frequented now by Lords and Princes, + Where every snobling likes to rub + His elbows with a Peer, who winces; + The tittle-tattle of the cliques, + Some half-proposals for our daughters-- + Such is the life that makes for weeks + A fortune--for the German Waters! + + * * * * * + +CHOOSING HIS WORDS. + +(_MADE IN GERMANY._) + +According to the _Hochliche Zeitung_, His Imperial Majesty said that +although the sky was apparently cloudless, the atmosphere might be +charged with electricity. He knew what that electricity denoted. There +were thunderbolts in the clouds and thunderbolts on earth. Those +on earth meant war and invasion. He warned those who threatened the +Fatherland, that there were a million of swords ready to spring forth +from a million of scabbards. It was well enough to be neighbourly +when those who lived in your vicinity were benevolently inclined. But +when they showed a disposition to be offensive, then it was necessary +to sharpen your swords and keep your power dry. They had already +conquered France, and were not afraid of Russia. Besides, the Army +contained young soldiers who would be the better for a real campaign. +He himself had no objection to visiting Paris and St. Petersburg, as +a German Emperor should--at the head of a German Army. Still he might +again remark, it was splendid weather, he saw nothing but blue sky. + +[Illustration: Nose Everything.] + +According to the _Nichtgeboren Zeitung_, His Imperial Majesty said +that, although the sky was apparently cloudless, he recognised dangers +a-head. He was willing to put himself forward as the Leader of the +toilers. It was their duty to secure the best possible constitution, +and then to force that constitution upon all neighbouring people, if +needs be, at the point of the bayonet. He was not an alarmist, and +said exactly what he meant. He had no wish to beat about the bush. War +was the Hand-servant of Peace, and the sooner that servant came back +the better. He did not wish to threaten, but he told Russia and France +that Germany was ready to begin, when and where they chose to meet +him. But he might again remark it was splendid weather, and he saw +nothing but blue sky. + +_Authorised Version_ (_all others declared to be misleading and +inaccurate_).--His Imperial Majesty merely observed that it was a fine +day. + + * * * * * + +ON BOARD A YACHT.--The conversation at lunch-time had turned on recent +publications. A learned Theban from Oxford inquired of the Skipper, +if he had seen the "_Rig-Veda_." "What sort of Rig's that?" asked the +Skipper, a bit puzzled. But the Oxonian wisely declined a rigmarole +explanation, and told him that all further inquiries must be made to +Professor MAX MÜLLER. + + * * * * * + +FEELING THEIR WAY. + +(_A STUDY IN THE ART OF GENTEEL CONVERSATION._) + + SCENE--_The Drawing-room of a Margate Hotel. Time--evening. + Mrs. ARDLEIGH (of Balham), and Mrs. ALLBUTT (of + Brondesbury), are discovered in the midst of a conversation, + in which each is anxious both to impress the other, and + ascertain how far she is a person to be cultivated. At + present, they have not got beyond the discovery of a common + bond in Cookery._ + +_Mrs. Allbutt._ You have the yolks of two eggs, I must tell you; +squeeze the juice of half a lemon into it, and, when you boil the +butter in the pan, make a paste of it with _dry_ flour. + +_Mrs. Ardleigh._ It sounds delicious--but you never can trust a Cook +to carry out instructions exactly. + +_Mrs. All._ I never _do_. Whenever I want to have anything specially +nice for my husband, I make a point of seeing to it myself. He +appreciates it. Now _some_ men, if you cook for them, never notice +whether it's you or the Cook. My husband _does_. + +_Mrs. Ard._ I wonder how you find time to do it. I'm sure _I_ should +never-- + +_Mrs. All._ Oh, it takes time, of course--but what does that matter +when you've nothing to do? Did I mention just a small pinch of Cayenne +pepper?--because that's a _great_ improvement! + +_Mrs. Ard._ I tell you what I like Cayenne pepper with, better than +anything--and that's eggs. + +_Mrs. All._ (_with elegant languor_). I hardly ever eat an egg. +Oysters, now, I'm _very_ fond of--_fried_, that is. + +_Mrs. Ard._ They're very nice done in the real shells. Or on scollops. +We have silver--or rather--(_with a magnanimous impulse to tone down +her splendour_), silver-plated ones. + +_Mrs. All._ How funny--so have we! (_Both women feel an increase of +liking for one another._) I like them cooked in milk, too. + + [_The first barrier being satisfactorily passed, they proceed, + as usual, to the subject of ailments._ + +_Mrs. Ard._ My doctor _does_ do me good, I must say--he never lets me +get ill. He just sees your liver's all right, and then he feeds you +up. + +_Mrs. All._ That's like _my_ doctor; he always tells me, if he didn't +keep on constantly building me up, I should go all to pieces in no +time. That's how I come to be here. I always run down at the end of +every Season. + +_Mrs. Ard._ (_feeling that Mrs. ALLBUTT can't be "anybody very +particular" after all_). What--to Margate? Fancy! Don't you find you +get tired of it? I should. + +_Mrs. All._ (_with dignity_). I didn't say I always went to Margate. +On the contrary I have never been here before, and shouldn't be here +now, if my doctor hadn't told me it was my only chance. + +_Mrs. Ard._ (_reassured_). I only came down here on my little girl's +account. One of those nasty croopy coughs, you know, and hoops with +it. But she's almost well already. I will say it's a wonderful air. +Still, the worst of Margate is, one isn't likely to meet a soul one +knows! + +_Mrs. All._ Well, that's the charm of it--to me. One has enough of +that during the Season. + +_Mrs. Ard._ (_recognising the superiority of this view_). Indeed one +has. What a whirl it has been to be sure! + +[Illustration: "Dear, dear! _not_ a county family!"] + +_Mrs. All._ The Season? Why, I never remember one with so little +doing. Most of the best houses closed--hardly a single really smart +party--one or two weddings--and that's positively all! + +_Mrs. Ard._ (_slightly crushed, in spite of a conviction +that--socially speaking--Balham has been rather more brilliant than +usual this year._) Yes, that's very true. I suppose the Elections have +put a stop to most things? + +_Mrs. All._ There never was much going on. _I_ should rather have said +it was Marlborough House being shut up that made everything so dull +from the first. + +_Mrs. Ard._ Ah, that _does_ make such a difference, doesn't it? +(_She feels she must make an effort to recover lost ground._) I fully +expected to be at Homburg this year. + +_Mrs. All._ Then you would have met Lady NEURALINE MENTHOL She _was_ +ordered there, I happen to know. + +_Mrs. Ard._ Really, you don't say so? Lady NEURALINE! Well, that's the +first _I've_ heard of it. (_It is also the first time she has heard of +HER, but she trusts to be spared so humiliating an admission._) + +_Mrs. All._ It's a fact, I can assure you. You know her, perhaps? + +_Mrs. Ard._ (_who would dearly like to say she does, if she only +dared_). Well, I can hardly say I exactly _know_ her. I know _of_ her. +I've met her about, and so on. (_She tells herself this is quite as +likely to be true as not._) + +_Mrs. All._ (_who, of course, does not know Lady NEURALINE either_). +Ah, she is a most delightful person--requires _knowing_, don't you +know. + +_Mrs. Ard._ So many in her position do, don't they? (_So far as she +is concerned--they ALL do._) You'd think it was haughtiness--but it's +really only _manner_. + +_Mrs. All._ (_feeling that she can go ahead with safety now_). I have +never found anything of _that_ sort in Lady NEURALINE myself (_which +is perfectly true_). She's rather odd and flighty, but _quite_ a +dear. By the way, _how_ sad it is about those poor dear CHUTNEYS--the +Countess, don't you know! + +_Mrs. Ard._ Ah (_as if she knew all the rest of the family_), I don't +know _her_ at all. + +_Mrs. All._ Such a sweet woman--but the trouble she's had with her +eldest boy, Lord MANGO! He married quite beneath him, you know, some +girl from the provinces--not a county-family girl even. + +_Mrs. Ard._ (_shocked_). Dear, dear! _not_ a county family! + +_Mrs. All._ No; somebody quite common--I forget the name, but it was +either GHERKIN or ONION, or something of that sort. I was told they +had been in Chili a good while. Poor MANGO never had much taste, or +he would never have got mixed up with such a set. Anyway, he's got +himself into a terrible pickle. I hear Capsicums is actually to be +sold to pay his debts. + +_Mrs. Ard._ You don't say so! Capsicums! Gracious! + +_Mrs. All._ Yes, _isn't_ it a pity! Such a lovely old place as it +was, too--_the_ most comfortable house to stay at in all England; so +beautifully _warm_! But it's dreadful to think of how the aristocracy +are taking to marry out of their own set. Look at the Duke of +DRAGNET--married a Miss DUCKWEED--goodness only knows where he picked +her up! but he got entangled somehow, and now his people are trying to +get rid of her. I see so many of these cases. Well, I'm afraid I must +wish you good evening--it's my time for retiring. (_Patronisingly._) +I've quite enjoyed this conversation--such a pleasure in a place like +this to come across a congenial companion! + +_Mrs. Ard._ (_fluttered and flattered_). I'm sure you're exceedingly +kind to say so, and I can say the same for myself. I hope we may +become better acquainted. (_To herself, after Mrs. ALLBUTT has +departed._) I've quite taken to that woman--she's so thoroughly the +lady, and moves in very high society, too. You can tell that from +the way she talks. What's that paper oil the table? (_She picks up +a journal in a coloured wrapper.) Society Snippets, the Organ of the +Upper Ten. One Penny._ The very thing I wanted. It's such a comfort +to know who's who. (_She opens it and reads sundry paragraphs headed +"Through the Keyhole."_) Now how funny this is! Here's the very same +thing about the dulness of the Season that she said. That shows she +must be really in it. And a note about Lady NEURALINE being about to +recruit at Homburg. And another about her reputation for eccentricity, +and her "sweetness to the select few privileged to be her intimates." +And here's all about Lord MANGO, and what a pleasant house Capsicums +is, and his marriage, and the Duke of DRAGNET's too. Her information +was very correct, I must say! (_A light begins to break in upon her._) +I wonder whether--but there--people of her sort wouldn't require to +read the papers for such things. + + [_Here the door opens, and Mrs. ALLBUTT appears, in some + embarrassment._ + +_Mrs. All._ (_scrutinising the tables_). Oh, it's nothing. I thought +I'd left something of mine here; it was only a paper--I see I was +mistaken, don't trouble. + +_Mrs. Ard._ (_producing Society Snippets_). I expect it will be this. +(Mrs. ALLBUTT's face _reveals her ownership_.) I took it up, not +knowing it was yours. (_Meaningly._) It has some highly interesting +information, I see. + +_Mrs. All._ (_slightly demoralised_). Oh, has it? I--I've not had time +to glance at it yet. Pray don't let me deprive you of it. I dare say +there's very little in it I don't know already. + +_Mrs. Ard._ So I should have thought. (_To herself, after Mrs. +ALLBUTT has retired in disorder._) Fancy that woman trying to take me +in like that, and no more in Society than I am--if so much! However, +I've found her out before going too far--luckily. And I've a good mind +to take in this _Society Snippets_ myself--it certainly does improve +one's conversation. She won't have it _all_ her own way _next_ time! + + * * * * * + +POPULAR SONGS RE-SUNG. + +NO. IX.--"IN THE MORNING." + +The Music-hall Muse, if not exactly impeccably moral, is, at least, +good at moralising. Not only to topers, Totties, larky Benedicts and +spreeish servant-maids, is there pregnant meaning in the warning words +"But oh! what a difference in the morning!!!" As may thus--_pace_ +"NORTON ATKINS" and "FELIX MCGLENNON"--be made manifest:-- + +[Illustration: "He curses speculation in the morning!"] + +AIR--"_IN THE MORNING!_" + + I'd sing of the singular triumphs we see, + At night, at night! + In Politics, Pleasure, Love, Art, L.S.D., + At night, at night! + The "Johnnies" of Sport and the "Oof-birds" of Cash, + The Statesmen who shine, and the Beauties who mash, + Are in champagny spirits and cut quite a dash, + At night, at night! + But oh! don't their hearts ache, + In the morning? + Then cometh disillusion and self-scorning. + Things look their natural size + Unto hot awaking eyes, + For no gingerbread is gilded, + In the morning! + + A Premier potent may perorate free, + At night, at night! + And pretty Primrosers will shout and agree, + At night, at night! + He'll say those brave Orangemen Home Rule will quash, + He'll hint that raised Tariffs trade rivals must smash, + And his eloquence sounds neither rabid nor rash, + At night, at night! + But oh! what a difference + In the morning! + He vows he merely meant a friendly warning, + But fuss and fad 'twill boom. + And his colleagues growl with gloom + O'er the "_Times_" upon their tables, + In the morning! + + Observe what the Specials call "News of the Day" + At night, at night! + The Dalziel Telegrams startle, and slay, + At night, at night! + There's war in the East, or the CZAR is laid low, + Financiers have failed--Fifty Millions or so!-- + Or they've found Jack the Ripper in far Jericho, + At night, at night! + But oh, what a difference + In the morning! + Those Latest Wires were lies, small facts adorning. + "It is not as we stated, + For the cable's mutilated," + And "we hear 'tis contradicted" + In the morning! + + Regard the young Clerk who's been out for the day, + At night, at night! + First to the Derby, and then to the play, + At night, at night! + He "spotted a winner" at twenty to one, + His winnings will far more than pay for his fun; + He's happy, free-handed, and "sure as a gun," + At night, at night! + But oh, what a difference + In the morning! + The bookie bolts, his "gaffer" gives him warning, + He's not worth half-a-dollar, + His prospect's "out of collar," + And he curses speculation + In the morning! + + Behold the young playwright who hears his own piece, + At night, at night! + He thinks that (ironic) applause will ne'er cease, + At night, at night! + His "little one-act thing" is stodgy and slow, + But the Pit is good-natured, the youth's in a glow, + And he thinks--with some "cuts"--it will be "a great go," + At night, at night! + But oh, what a difference + In the morning! + The critics call the thing "an awful warning," + They "guy," and sneer, and scoff, + And his bantling's taken off, + "To make room for some old farce, Sir!" + In the morning! + + * * * * * + +TAKING THE OAT-CAKE. + +DEAR MR. PUNCH,--I was very much interested in the statement I saw +in the papers the other day, that the best preservatives of a Lady's +complexion are--Oatmeal and Oranges! I at once began the diet, but +have not succeeded very well at present. Porridge, even with milk and +cream, and plenty of sugar, is such _commonplace_ stuff, and one can't +really be expected to eat oatmeal _raw_, though Scotch gamekeepers are +said to do so. But then they are out in the open air all day, and I am +not. Oranges are nice enough--but oh, _Mr. Punch_, what a lot of them +one has to take before one feels as if one had had a meal! As I have +stopped all other food, I am becoming rather weak. My complexion is, +I think, improved--at all events, it is far less red or pink than it +used to be--but I really haven't the strength to go out of doors to +show it off. Even writing is a burden--so I will close, hoping that my +experiences may benefit others who like to try the regimen. + +LYDIA LANGUISH. + +P.S.--My Doctor has just stopped the diet! + + +DEAR SIR,--We are sure that the Oatmeal-and-Orange prescription is an +invaluable one for the complexion. We recently tried it on a Street +Arab, and after one or two doses--accompanied by the employment of +soap and water--he developed such a beautiful pink-and-white skin, +that his parents failed to recognise him. This was unfortunate in one +way, as he has now become chargeable on the rates. Talking of rates, +we may mention that we supply finest Midlothian Campaign Oatmeal at a +more reasonable figure than any other firm in the trade. Price-list on +application. + +Yours obediently, McCANNY & Co. + +_Edinburgh._ + + +SIR,--I am not less than fifty years' old, and marked with small-pox, +and therefore I think that Oatmeal and Oranges would be sure to do my +complexion good. As mine is perhaps a rather unusual case, I am trying +the remedy in a peculiarly thorough way. I have an Oatmeal-bath twice +a day, during which I suck six oranges. My breakfast consists of +porridge and marmalade. I have engaged a policeman to knock at my +front door three times every night, to wake me. I then sit up in bed +and consume oat-cakes soaked in orange-juice. I also dress in yellow, +and I have written to Belfast to ask if I can be admitted to an Orange +Society there, but hitherto I have received no reply. You will, I +think, agree with me that I am giving the new treatment a fair trial. +Yours truly, + +TABITHA NUPKINS. + + * * * * * + +[Illustration: UNLUCKY COMPLIMENTS. + +_Shy but Susceptible Youth_. "ER--_COULD_ YOU TELL ME WHO THAT YOUNG +LADY IS--SKETCHING?" + +_Affable Stranger_. "SHE HAS THE MISFORTUNE TO BE MY WIFE!" + +_Shy but Susceptible One_ (_desperately anxious to please, and losing +all presence of mind_). "OH--THE MISFORTUNE'S ENTIRELY _YOURS_, I'M +_SURE_!"] + + * * * * * + +THE BAMSGATE SANDS. + + It's hey for the sands, for the jolly Ramsgate Sands, + Where the children shout and tumble, spade and bucket in their + hands. + Where sandy castles rise in scores, I trow a man might float + A fleet of six-inch pleasure-skiffs on many a deep-dug moat. + Where, while the banjos discord make, the German bands make noise, + And nursemaids by the hundred shepherd flocks of girls and boys. + Where the boys tuck up their trousers, and the girls tuck up their + frocks, + A paddling tribe who scorn their shoes and customary socks. + + Ye loud-voiced men of cocoa-nuts, what is it that you say? + "Come try yer luck, roll, bowl, or pitch; the lydies stand' + alf-way." + One youth I saw who took his stand, a clerk of pith was he, + He shut one eye and aimed with care, then let the ball fly free. + Twice, thrice, nay, thirty times he flung, his BETSY standing by, + And scornfully advising him to close his other eye. + Yet, when at last he had to own he could not do the trick, + No solitary cocoa-nut had toppled from its stick. + + Papa is in his glory here, that proud and happy man, + But in spite of all his efforts, he can't get coloured tan. + Yet every week-day morning, from ten o'clock till one, + He turns that British face of his unflinching to the sun. + Mamma she sits beside him; I overheard her say, + "Lor, Pa, you'll soon be brown as brown, you're not so red to-day." + But wives can't flatter tints away, and when he leaves the place, + I'd guarantee to light my pipe at Pa's tomato face. + + A front-row stall I quick secured, a green and gaudy bench, + And paid my humble penny to a very buxom wench. + The tide was running out amain, and slowly, bit by bit, + She moved her back seats forward till she left me in the pit. + Stout Mr. BIGGS, the hair-dresser, the Bond-Street mould of form, + Sat next me with his family, and seemed to find it warm; + And, while admiring Mrs. B. hung on her BIGGS's lips. + He favoured me, as is his wont, with all the sporting tips. + + But the most delightful object I saw upon that shore + Was a ruddy-faced and chubby-legged philosopher of four. + Though his sisters capered round him, the sage refused to budge, + He continued quietly digging just as solemn as a judge; + And if he fell, as men may fall, he spurned their proffered aid, + But lay awhile and pondered, while he clutched his wooden spade; + Then, having thought some problem out, and found that life was vain, + He slowly raised his three-foot form, and set to work again. + + And so the round of pleasure goes; a man could scarce believe + How swift the merry hours spin by from dewy morn to eve. + The goat-carts never want for fares fresh from their nurses' arms, + All day the patient donkeys bear some maid's or matron's charms. + The haughty ones may carp and sneer, we know their sorry style, + But we who revel on this shore can hear them with a smile. + We may be vulgar; what's the odds? We're cottage-folk, not "Grands," + And our simple pleasures please us on the jolly Ramsgate Sands. + + * * * * * + +DRURIOLANUS'S NEXT.--_The Prodigal Daughter_ is to be produced, +when she's of proper age to come out, at Drury Lane. Who gave her +that name? Is it her "_Pettitt nom_," or was it her Godfather, Sir +DRURIOLANUS LE GRAND, or was it the joint effort of GRAND _et_ +PETTITT, so as to satisfy all comers Great and Small? _The Prodigal +Son_ has already served as the title of an Opera directly founded on +the Scriptural parable of the Prodigal, and has recently been used as +the title of the now famous _ballet d'action_. There was also a _Père +Prodigue_--which the English schoolboy thought was French for an +uncommonly big Marie Louise specimen; so there is justification and +authority for bringing this new member of _The Prodigal_ family before +the Public. Having once started, there maybe no end to the family +of Prodigals. There will follow--_The Prodigal Aunt_, _The Prodigal +Uncle_, _The Prodigal Second Cousin by first Husband's Marriage_, and +so on, _ad infinitum_. + + * * * * * + +[Illustration: "THE LITTLE VULGAR BOY." + +MASTER LABBY (_to the Butler_). "WON'T GIVE ME A SITUATION, WON'T YER? +THEN I'LL BREAK YER WINDOWS! YA-AH!!"] + + * * * * * + +THE LAND OF THE (RATHER TOO) FREE. + + SCENE--_The Landing-Stage of an English Port._ + +_Custom-House Officer_ (_through an interpreter_). Do you speak +English? + +_Emigrant_ (_ditto_). No. + +_Cust.-H. Off._ (_as before_). Have you any money? + +_Emi._ (_ditto_). Not a kopeck. + +_Cust.-H. Off._ Where do you come from? + +_Emi._ Polish Russia. + +_Cust.-H. Off._ Have you any family? + +_Emi._ A sick wife and eight sick children. + +_Cust.-H. Off._ Do any of you know a trade? + +_Emi._ None of us. + +_Cust.-H. Off._ Are you well enough to work? + +_Emi._ No. + +_Cust.-H. Off._ Have you any friends in England? + +_Emi._ Don't know a soul. + +_Cust.-H. Off._ Have you any luggage? + +_Emi._ Only the Cholera! + + + * * * * * + +A COMPENDIOUSLY GRAMMATICAL TREE.--A Yew Tree. First it may be a 'Igh +Tree, but it is a Yew Tree. It is either a He Tree or a She Tree. +If small, it represents the first person plural by being a "Wee +Tree:" the second person plural is the Manager and Manageress of the +Haymarket, "Ye Trees;" and the third person plural would be expressed +by a Devonshire Gardener indicating this talented couple as "They +Trees." + + * * * * * + +TEE, TEE, ONLY TEE! + +(_SONG OF THE GOLF ENTHUSIAST. AFTER THOMAS MOORE_.) + +AIR--"_Thee, thee, only thee_." + +[Illustration] + + The dawn of morn, the daylight's sinking, + Shall find me on the Links, and thinking + Of Tee, Tee, only Tee! + When rivals meet upon the ground, + The Putting-green's a realm enchanted, + Nay, in Society's giddy round + My soul, (like Tooting's thralls) is haunted + By Tee, Tee, only Tee!' + + For that at early morn I waken, + And swiftly bolt my eggs and bacon, + For Tee, Tee, only Tee! + I'm game to start all in the dark + To the Links hurrying--resting never. + The Caddie yawns, but, like a lark, + I halt not, heed not, hastening ever + To Tee, Tee, only Tee! + + Of chilly fog I am no funker, + I'll brave the very biggest bunker + For Tee, Tee, only Tee! + A spell that nought on earth can break + Holds me. Golf's charms can ne'er be _spoken_; + But late I'll sleep, and early wake, + Of loyalty be this my token, + To Tee, Tee, only Tee! + + * * * * * + +INNS AND OUTS. + +NO. II.--THE HEAD-WETTER. + +I entitle him as self-pronounced. If "Mr." is the Grand-Hôtel Jupiter, +the Head-Waiter is its Mercury. Nothing modern is so versatile as +the Head-Waiter. The first thing about the Head-Waiter is his cigars. +These are covered with tinsel and colours: very gay--almost as gay as +the Head-Waiter. They are of unpronounceable and unknown brands. They +vary in price and size, but agree in flavour--liquorice, tempered by +ink. Like the fabled fruit, they crumble to ashes in your mouth. If +you are only a bird of passage, you will often find a box or so in +your room. "Great opportunity--veritable Pestarenas of Nockudaun--one +whole box for a sovereign English," the Head-Waiter assures you. The +memory of that man is astounding; he remembers all the numbers, all +the wines, all the names, and all the Lady's-maids. For he is a bit +of a _Leporello_, is the Head-Waiter. + +[Illustration: "One whole box for a sovereign English."] + +After dinner, where he takes a dozen orders, makes a dozen +recommendations, and tells a dozen lies at once, you may see him +philandering by the Lake with MARY ANN, JEANETTE, and KLARA, all +jealous, and all adoring, teaching each the language of the other, and +all the art of love. I have often envied him. The Head-Waiter's life +is a "happy one." He is ubiquitous; Egypt, The Riviera, Switzerland, +and Italy, see him by turns; in each he has a white waistcoat, +of which Mr. CHAMBERLAIN might be proud, infinite occupation, and +infinite diversion; his nimbleness, his light-heartedness, his +languages, and his cigars, are inexhaustible. + +How we besiege him in the morning! "Luncheon, ADOLF, for a party +of seven, in a basket--a _nice_ basket, you know--and don't forget +the corkscrew." "Yes, yes, I know--and you take the bottle-bier--it +is much better nor the warne. Ha! Ha!" What a laugh!--a roguish, +child-like merriment of a Greek-godlike character--or want of it. +Old Ladies talk to him quite trustingly at first sight; it's "ADOLF, +_have_ you such a thing as a bottle of gum--_gummi_, gum, you +understand"; or, "_Could_ you get me another cushion"? He can, and +does. As for the children, they love him; he romps with them, and does +conjuring tricks, and warbles innumerable songs. That man gets through +more in one day than the Prime Minister of England--and, between you +and me, I believe he is fully as capable--and yet he finds time to +write a letter to his old mother at Hamburg--I have seen him do it. +Perhaps it was about the cigars! The only people who hate ADOLF are +the Under-Waiters; he rules them with a rod of iron, marshalling their +heated battalions at _table d'hôte_, and plundering them of their +sweethearts; if he breaks anything (hearts included), it is they who +have to pay. It is ADOLF's only weakness--he is a bully to underlings +of his own trade. But then he has been an Under-Waiter once himself, +and suffering brutalises; however, he is outside the sphere of +morality, and I could pardon him almost anything. + +From time to time his fascinations induce an Englishman or +Englishwoman to take this treasure home as a servant. But ADOLF in +livery, and ADOLF with his magic order-book, are two very different +people. Little things are missing; he becomes quarrelsome; the +gipsy-spirit returns--and he is off again, blithe as ever, on his +travels. "London very naice," he says, as you buy that infernal +Pestarena; "Porebier, very naise; 'Ampton Court, very naise; I know +dem, hein? But, is no sunshine, no air, no gaiety." And ADOLF cannot +exist without sunshine, air, and gaiety. Also he prefers being his own +master, which, as Head-Waiter, he practically is. + +How insinuating he is about the food, "Some naice fishes? Dey was +laiving dis morning." And then, how accommodating! I was once in the +Grand Hôtel during the usual "exceptional season," when it rained +unintermittently for a fortnight; the place was empty; "tristeful," +as ADOLF styled it. The genius played billiards with me every day, and +always won, though I rather fancy myself; and then how mindful he is +of your individual bettings. "I gif you dis place by de window--_to do +you joy_!" he ejaculates. The simple creature, he is constantly trying +to "make you please." + +I always present ADOLF with ten shillings--five on arrival, and five +on departure. This procures me many harmless little privileges; and +when old BROWN calls him an impertinent brute, I know that BROWN and +ten shillings are difficult to part. + +There is nothing ADOLF will not do for you for a sovereign--but I +cannot run to this; and yet this is the impression he has made. + + * * * * * + +[Illustration: A LITTLE VAGUE! + +_Affable Landlady_ (_to her new Artist Lodger_), "AND I SUPPOSE, SIR, +YOU COMES FROM ABROAD!" + +_Foreign Lodger_. "SO! I GOME VROM AUSTRIA." + +_A.L._ "DO YOU HINDEED, SIR? FROM HOSTRIA! AH! HOW THAT'S WHERE THE +HOSTRICHES COMES FROM, I SUPPOSE?!!"] + + * * * * * + +AN OLD AND NEW PEER. + +DEAR MR. PUNCH,--Look here! I've done good service in my time, and +no one likes to see himself deprived of an honoured title, or forced +to take a back seat. I've been trodden under-foot over and over +again--but I've borne it with fortitude, and never, never given way. +Now, what do I hear? That a Gentleman, a Government Whip, for whom I +have the highest esteem and respect, is now to assume the title which, +by right of position, place, time, and prescription, belongs to me, +and _to me only_, I can bear much, but, after so many years of devoted +service, during which, with all my opportunities, I have never once +made any attempt to leave my place to go higher up, or to go lower +down, or, in either case, to go with the tide, I cannot, and, indeed, +will not, yield my title to anyone, however good and useful to his +Party he may have been, but proudly declaring myself as good as any +"Sprig of Nobility," even as this one who cometh up as a Flower, I +beg, protestingly, to remind the world at large that I am "_Nulli +Secundus_," and _de facto et dejure_, + +THE ONLY BATTERSEA PEER. + +P.S.--Spell it with an "i" or "e," it's all one. If my "i" is put out, +and "_he_" has got in instead, that's a mere quibble or quebble. + + * * * * * + +[Illustration: Cowley Lambert.] + +[Illustration: H. Campbell.] + +MEMBERS WE SHALL MISS. + +Our Old Parliamentary Artistic Hand been at it again; looking with +eyesight blurred with sorrow on familiar forms of some Members +stranded at General Election. Dismembered, and, for some time at +least, not to be remembered. COWLEY LAMBERT always been a rover. Went +Midland Circuit for short time, and having made the Circuit, made for +home. Then he accomplished "A Trip to Cashmere and Ladak." Opportunity +now for varying itinerary, and making a "Trip to Ladak and Cashmere." +Must be moving somewhere. Wrote himself down in _Dod_ "a Progressive +Conservative." Has now progressed out of sight of the Chair. This +particular CAMPBELL is neither coming nor going. He's gone. + +PULESTON seems quite pleased to find LLEWELLYN sitting there, all +unconscious of his doom. PULESTON a little astonished himself when +things went bad at Carnarvon. Only short time ago made Constable of +Castle; thought P.C. PULESTON sure to come in at head of poll; but, +"from information received," appears he didn't. + +[Illustration: E.H. Llewellyn.] + +[Illustration: Sir J.H. Puleston.] + +Observe the eye of HAVELOCK-ALLAN on the alert. He cannot see behind +his back, but instinctively knows there is an Irish Member in the +vicinity. His teeth close, his moustache curls, his eyes glare. He +once publicly, in course of debate, sat upon an Irish Member; not +metaphorically, but physically. Irish Member, when he wriggled from +under, appealed to SPEAKER on point of order. SPEAKER ruled proceeding +decidedly out of order. "But I sat on him, TOBY, dear boy," HAVELOCK +said, triumphantly; "and I shall retain the impression to end of my +life." + +[Illustration: THE GRAND OLD GARDENER.] + +[Illustration: Sir H. Havelock-Allan.] + +[Illustration: A.A. Baumann.] + +"So will he," I observed, when HAVELOCK was safe out of hearing. He +doesn't like retorts. + +The sketch of BAUMANN evidently taken at the moment he heard the +announcement of poll at North Salford. Seems to have knocked him +rather of a heap. Was known in House as Cupid's Bowman; a smart able, +useful Member, whom we shall all be glad to see back again. + + * * * * * + +OUR BOOKING-OFFICE. + +[Illustration: A Poppylar Writer in Poppy Land.] + +"'Over the Hills and far away!' follow yours faithfully CLEMENT +SCOTT." This is the full title, and signed advice to the public given +on the frontispiece of his little shilling book published by EGLINTON. +It is dedicated to Sir EDWARD LAWSON--"right thing to do my boy!"--and +appropriately so, as if the Baron's memory runneth not to the +contrary, most if not all the articles in this author's little +holiday-book have appeared at some time or other in the _D.T._, and +do not suffer any D.T.rioration by being bound up together in this +shilling volume. It tells of a visit to Hayling, where he picked up +health, strength, and an aspirate, when he went there ailing; he tells +of Suffolk, where a branch of the Great Punchian Family is settled, +known as The Suffolk Punches; he prattles of _Honeymoon Land_, where +he met the man with seven wives, each of whom had a cat, and to each +cat there was a kit, and to each wife a kit too, it is to be hoped, +in the shape otherwise of a _trousseau_, and of many other pleasant +restful places and refreshing jaunts he tells delightfully. "But of +all the pleasant places in which his lines have fallen, commend me," +quoth the Baron,--"and the lines he has written will send many to +these pleasant places--(But O the Trippers!)--of all these give me the +_Flower Farm at Holy Vale_ and the _Valley of Ferns_." If the reader +cannot go to all the sweet resorts herein mentioned, let him be +induced by the first article to visit _Holy Vale_, and he will find +CLEMENT SCOTT an admirable guide for "the Scilly Season." Of course +our NOT-YET-DUN-SCOTUS hath visited the Cyril-Flower-Farm on the +Norfolk Coast. Advice: Stand not on the money-order of your going, but +go at once, and stop there. As to money, remember your Uncle dwells in +Poppy Land, quoth their true friend, + +THE TRAVELLED BARON DE BOOK-WORMS. + +P.S.--A youthful shootist bought the Poppyland book because he thought +that it would tell him all about where to go popping. Also a bashful +suitor was misled by the title, hoping that in Poppy Land he would +learn how to "Pop--the question." The Learned Author has not said one +word about the "weasels that go pop," which, of course, are natives of +Poppy Land. + + * * * * * + +"THE RIFT WITHIN THE LUTE." + +[Illustration] + + It surely sounds a pretty phrase, + Some pöesy for woe it wins, + Commemorating roundelays + And troubadours and mandolins: + We seem to view some minstrel-boy + Beside his shattered music mute, + The shattered string, the ruined joy-- + The Rift within the Lute. + + How swift the slip from tune to twang! + Sweets bitter grow, as aye they did; + For e'en the Roman poet sang + "_Surgit amari aliquid_." + Our pigmy worries turn us grey; + And sorrows fierce are less acute; + Our hearts are riddled every day + With Rifts within the Lute. + + You envy FORTUNATUS--rich-- + A charming bride--subservient friends. + To rival him were something which + The dream of Avarice transcends. + That charming bride a mother owns + Whom FORTUNATUS brands a brute: + She mars his life's entrancing tones-- + His Rift within the Lute! + + Then, PEREGRINE--he journeys far; + Unshackled, he by toil's routine: + By turns he quaffs a samovar + Or sherbet, as he shifts his scene. + "Strong as a horse!"--ah! there's the string + That snaps asunder--"to recruit." + He wanders, manufacturing + A Rift within his Lute. + + And DULCINEA! What a life! + Adoring crowds, adornments rare + And many fain to call her wife, + And sue her smiles in Belgrave Square. + And yet her Fetch-and-carry swears + He heard her, while he pressed his suit, + Sigh, "Bored to desperation!"--there's + A Rift within that Lute. + + What need more trivial ills to quote, + The freshly-furnished house that shines, + The coxcomb's fashionable coat, + Both brushed and polished "to the nines," + Both yielding to some fatal flaw; + A crack; a fiend who plays the flute; + Both, both examples of the law + Of Rift within the Lute. + + Whate'er the dulcet instrument + We favour, still the lilt will stop; + And with a gorgeous chalice blent + Oft lurks the tiny poisoned drop. + I'm not so spry myself to-night; + I'll try a dose of arrowroot. + You'll own that Indigestion's quite + A Rift in any Lute! + + * * * * * + +"WALKER ART GALLERY."--Show commences this week at Liverpool. _The_ +WALKER was a Genius. But is this show all "Walker," or the genuine +article? Has Mr. J.L. TOOLE, of _Walker, London_, anything to do with +it? No doubt it's quite "'O.K.' WALKER, Liverpool." + + * * * * * + +POLITICAL PRIZE RING RIDDLE.--Why was the win of the Gladstonian Party +at Newcastle like the triumph of a single-fisted pugilist over +his two-handed opponent? Because the victory was achieved with one +"MORLEY." + + * * * * * + +NOTICE.--Rejected Communications or Contributions, whether MS., +Printed Matter, Drawings, or Pictures of any description, will in no +case be returned, not even when accompanied by a Stamped and Addressed +Envelope, Cover, or Wrapper. To this rule there will be no exception. + + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Punch, or the London Charivari, Vol. +103, September 3, 1892, by Various + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PUNCH *** + +***** This file should be named 15166-8.txt or 15166-8.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/1/5/1/6/15166/ + +Produced by Malcolm Farmer, William Flis, and the PG Online +Distributed Proofreading Team. + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Punch, or the London Charivari, Vol. 103, September 3, 1892 + +Author: Various + +Release Date: February 25, 2005 [EBook #15166] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PUNCH *** + + + + +Produced by Malcolm Farmer, William Flis, and the PG Online +Distributed Proofreading Team. + + + + + + +</pre> + + <h1>PUNCH,<br /> + OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.</h1> + + <h2>Vol. 103.</h2> + <hr class="full" /> + + <h2>September 3, 1892.</h2> + <hr class="full" /> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page97" + id="page97"></a>[pg 97]</span> + + <div class="figcenter" + style="width:70%;"> + <a href="images/97.png"><img width="100%" + src="images/97.png" + alt="HAPPY THOUGHT." /></a> + + <h3>HAPPY THOUGHT.</h3><i>Obliging Country Butcher</i>. + "LET ME CUT IT INTO CUTLETS FOR YOU, MA'AM,—LEAVING + JUST ENOUGH BONE FOR YOU TO HOLD 'EM BY, WHILE YOU'RE + EATING 'EM!" + </div> + <hr /> + + <h2>NOT GOING AWAY FOR THE HOLIDAYS.</h2> + + <div class="drama"> + <p><i>Cookson Gaze, Q.C.</i> Because MARIA votes Eastbourne + vulgar, and the girls (sorry now I sent them to that + finishing-school at Clapham) laugh so consumedly whenever I + open my mouth to address a native if we go to Trouville or + Dinard.</p> + + <p><i>C. Jumper</i>. Because the Governor thinks three days + in the year enough for anybody.</p> + + <p><i>Eastend Dr.</i> Because that fiver will just give + little SALLY the breath of sea-air she wants, and she'll + never make a good cure unless she has it.</p> + + <p><i>Reg. Rake</i>. Because wife says she shall certainly + accompany me.</p> + + <p><i>Barmaid</i>. Because I've just been ill for a + fortnight from overwork, and the Company say they can't + give any more leave.</p> + + <p><i>Eastend Clergyman</i> (<i>of any church.</i>) Because + there are hundreds who want it more than I do, and I must + help them to get a change first.</p> + + <p><i>Major Hornblower</i>. Because MACCRACSHOTT (the only + man who has asked me) was in the smoking-room the night I + was fool enough to tell that Snipe and Rhinoceros Story of + PEYTON's in the first person.</p> + + <p><i>Quiverful</i>. Because there's another pair.</p> + </div> + <hr /> + + <p>EPITAPH ON AN OLD CRICKETER'S TOMBSTONE.—"Out at + 70."</p> + <hr /> + + <h2>MUSICAL NOTES.</h2> + + <p><i>Popping a Question.</i>—The <i>Daily News</i>, in + its last week's "Music and Musicians," informs us that "Mr. + CHAPPELL has now definitely decided that the season of Monday + Popular Concerts shall this year commence on a Tuesday." Sure + then it must be Mister O'CHAPPELL, the CHAPPELL by the + hill-side, who arranges to have his first "Monday Pop" on a + Tuesday? If he be going out shooting on his own native heath, + his name O'CHAPPELL, then there's no reason why he shouldn't + have his first pop on a Tuesday, only it couldn't be his Monday + Pop, could it now? Or if he drinks <i>Mr. P.'s</i> health in + Pommery '80 (<i>grand vin!</i>), or let's say Poppery '80, he + could do so on a Tuesday, only it would no longer be the + "Monday Pop." That's all. Sure 'tis mighty confusing and upsets + the week entirely. If Tuesday is to have all the Pop, what's to + become of Monday? For further particulars inquire at the + Pop-shop, Bond Street.</p> + + <p>The next great Musical Event is at the Gloucester + Festival—it is Dr. HUBERT PARRY "on the Job." This, + though the work of a thoroughly English Composer, may yet be + considered as an "<i>Article de Parry</i>."</p> + <hr /> + + <p>"MARS IN OPPOSITION."—"Mother says I mustn't."</p> + <hr /> + + <h2>THIS PICTURE AND THAT.</h2> + + <h4>(<i>Extracts from the Diary of a Lover of the + Beautiful.</i>)</h4> + + <p><i>First Extract</i>.—Really an excellent notion to + buy an estate, instead of picking up what Mr. RUDYARD KIPLING + calls a "smeared thing." Got one, too, pretty cheap. Twenty + miles from a railway station, but so much the better. RUSKIN + hates railway stations, and so do I. Never can make them look + picturesque. The Agent tells me my place is famous for its + sunsets; also good moonlight effects on occasions. Pretty + village, too, in the background. Altogether, most satisfactory. + After all, Nature is much better than Art.</p> + + <p><i>Second Extract</i>.—Dullerton-on-the-Slush is a + charming spot, but it has its drawbacks. Pretty, but damp. Fog + interferes a good deal with the sunsets, and hides the moon at + the wrong moment. Village deliciously out of repair. But + tenants unreasonable. Offered to put up some red brick roofs + for them, which would have looked charming, but they insist + upon having slates. Wish they would consent to having a few + cows in the fields, but they say they prefer pigstyes. Have + consulted a builder and a gardener, and they think that they + could "run up" a stye between them, and cover it over with + shrubs. Tenants object. They say the pigs would not like it, + and might eat the shrubs with fatal results. All this annoying, + but still the view from my dining-room window charming. It + reminds me not a little of CONSTABLE, LINNELL, not to say Old + CROME.</p> + + <p><i>Third Extract</i>.—Further troubles. Tenants are + really very disagreeable, and they have no feeling for Art. + They have cut down a lot of ornamental trees, and they won't + grow the right sort of crops,—I mean from a picturesque + point of view. As agriculturists they may be all right, but + that's not my point. I did not buy the estate to try how + "roots" would thrive. Then they will burn weeds, and hang out + clothes to dry—clothes without any regard to contrast of + colour. Eyesores meet me everywhere. I am really not sure + whether I acted wisely in trusting to a House-agent instead of + a Picture-dealer. "Pictures by Nature" are not as reliable as + they should be.</p> + + <p><i>Fourth Extract</i>.—This is really too bad! A + perambulating Circus has pitched its tent on the Village Green! + When I say tent, I make a mistake; it is a beastly ugly iron + thing, that looks simply hideous, and from the durable + stoutness of its construction, it evidently is going to be a + fixture for some time. My tenants support the Circus people, + and my Agent tells me, that if I interfere, my life will be + made a burden to me. It appears my tenants are "a very unruly + lot when they are irritated." Pleasant!</p> + + <p><i>Fifth Extract</i>.—The Circus won't go. And now I + find I can't get any of my rents. My agent tells me, that my + tenants never would settle with their last landlord. Besides, + they expect me to pay for the damage done to their dwellings by + the floods. They say it was my fault, because I would put up a + bank and plantation in my back garden. Only light in the + general gloom is, the prospect my Agent holds out to me of + getting rid of the property for me to another lover of the + picturesque. Scarcely fair; but after all, or rather before + all, must take care of Number One.</p> + + <p><i>Last Extract</i>.—Hurray! Sold my estate to another + fellow. However, on looking over my accounts, I fancy I should + have found it cheaper if, in the first instance, I had bought a + chromo lithograph!</p> + <hr /> + + <p>EPITAPH.—An Alpining Traveller sends us, on the "Bär" + Hotel lately destroyed at Grindelwald, the following adapted + and reversified quotation:—</p> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>"Good-bye to the Bär—</p> + + <p>And it's moaning" we are!</p> + </div> + </div> + <hr /> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page98" + id="page98"></a>[pg 98]</span> + + <div class="figcenter" + style="width:100%;"> + <a href="images/98.png"><img width="100%" + src="images/98.png" + alt="'SUMMER VOLUPTAS.'" /></a> + + <h3>"SUMMER VOLUPTAS."</h3><i>Toby</i> (<i>sings</i>). "MY + BARQUE IS ON THE SEA!" + </div> + <hr /> + + <h2>SONGS OUT OF SEASON.</h2> + + <h3>No. I.—DISORGANISED.</h3> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Still in London now you'll find me,</p> + + <p class="i2">Still detained against my will;</p> + + <p>And I wish, distinctly, mind me,</p> + + <p class="i2">To accentuate the "<i>still</i>;"</p> + + <p>It's a sort of consolation,</p> + + <p class="i2">As I sit, and fume, and frown,</p> + + <p>That the greatest botheration</p> + + <p class="i2">Of my life is out of town.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"></div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>He who used to grind "<i>She Wore a</i></p> + + <p class="i2"><i>Wreath of Roses</i>" every day,</p> + + <p>And "Selections from <i>Dinorah</i>,"</p> + + <p class="i2"> + And—"<i>Ta-ra-ra-Boom-de-ay</i>."</p> + + <p>With his execrable smiling,</p> + + <p class="i2">And exasperating din,</p> + + <p>Must, I needs infer, be riling</p> + + <p class="i2">Some one else with grind and grin.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>He who seemed, in fact, delighted,</p> + + <p class="i2">And a kiss—the fiend!—would + blow,</p> + + <p>When I got a bit excited,</p> + + <p class="i2">And exclaimed "<i>Al Diavolo</i>!"</p> + + <p>Who, with unabashed assurance,</p> + + <p class="i2">Only beamed the more, and kissed,</p> + + <p>If, incensed beyond endurance,</p> + + <p class="i2">In his face I shook my fist.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>He has earned his little outing,</p> + + <p class="i2">This excruciating cove,</p> + + <p>And his instrument is flouting</p> + + <p class="i2">Bath, or Scarborough, or Hove.</p> + + <p>For the moment I can get a</p> + + <p class="i2">Peaceful interim, and free—</p> + + <p>But he cherishes vendetta,</p> + + <p class="i2">This Italian count, to me.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Yes! Perhaps, indeed, 'twere kinder,</p> + + <p class="i2">Had he ne'er relaxed his track;</p> + + <p>He'll return, that grinning grinder,</p> + + <p class="i2">Reinvigorated, back!</p> + + <p>Then, as I remarked before, a</p> + + <p class="i2">Spell of doom for me remains,</p> + + <p>With "Selections from <i>Dinorah</i>,"</p> + + <p class="i2">And his other worse refrains.</p> + </div> + </div> + <hr /> + + <p>WHY I DON'T GO OUT OF TOWN, FOR THE AUTUMN?—Because + I've been pretty well everywhere, but always <i>quite</i> well + in London.</p> + <hr /> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page99" + id="page99"></a>[pg 99]</span> + + <div class="figcenter" + style="width:67%;"> + <a href="images/99-1.png"><img width="100%" + src="images/99-1.png" + alt="BRIC À BRAC." /></a> + + <h3>BRIC À BRAC.</h3><i>Lady Crœsus</i>. "OH, WHAT A + SWEET TABLE! WHERE DID YOU GET IT, MY DEAR? OH, I SEE + HERE'S THE MAN'S CARD." (<i>Spelling the label.</i>) + "'TABLE—LOUIS QUINZE.' LOUIS QUINZEY! WHAT A HORRID + NAME! AND WHY HASN'T HE PUT HIS ADDRESS?" + </div> + <hr /> + + <h2>THE GERMAN WATERS.</h2> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>A promenade with tongues alive</p> + + <p class="i2">That every phrase of OLLENDORFF use;</p> + + <p>And "<i>Luther's Hymn</i>" at half-past five</p> + + <p class="i2">To drag you from the arms of + Morpheus;</p> + + <p>Fat Germans in their awful "Fracks,"</p> + + <p class="i2">Pale Frenchmen, too, a bit + <i>décolletés</i>,</p> + + <p>And dapper Britons with attacks</p> + + <p class="i2">Of livers and digestions faulty.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>A garden fair with "Quellen" foul—</p> + + <p class="i2"><i>Ach, Himmel</i>! How they taste those + "Quellen"!</p> + + <p>Then rolls and coffee, next a prowl</p> + + <p class="i2">Among the shops with JANE or ELLEN;</p> + + <p>The mid-day meal at <i>table d'hôte</i>,</p> + + <p class="i2">All windows closed—a climate + hellish!—</p> + + <p>With dishes too crackjaw to quote,</p> + + <p class="i2">And sometimes difficult to relish.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>An afternoon of drowsy drives—</p> + + <p class="i2">How these poor foreigners love + driving</p> + + <p>To places where, when one arrives,</p> + + <p class="i2">There's nought for which it's worth + arriving!—</p> + + <p>A "Belvedere"—like Primrose Hill,</p> + + <p class="i2">A "Gartenhaus," tobacco-scented;</p> + + <p>Yet there they smoke, and moon, and swill,</p> + + <p class="i2">Quite adipose, and self-contented.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>A "Kursaal," very large, and fine;</p> + + <p class="i2">A Theatre, small, and + shabby-splendid;</p> + + <p>More beer, more music, ditto wine</p> + + <p class="i2">(This latter can be much commended).</p> + + <p>The Military (each salutes!)</p> + + <p class="i2">With HANNCHEN on their arm or MARIE;</p> + + <p>I wonder where they get those boots—</p> + + <p class="i2">I mean, of course, the Military.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Lawn-Tennis and an "English Club,"</p> + + <p class="i2">Frequented now by Lords and Princes,</p> + + <p>Where every snobling likes to rub</p> + + <p class="i2">His elbows with a Peer, who winces;</p> + + <p>The tittle-tattle of the cliques,</p> + + <p class="i2">Some half-proposals for our + daughters—</p> + + <p>Such is the life that makes for weeks</p> + + <p class="i2">A fortune—for the German + Waters!</p> + </div> + </div> + <hr /> + + <h2>CHOOSING HIS WORDS.</h2> + + <h4>(<i>Made in Germany.</i>)</h4> + + <p>According to the <i>Hochliche Zeitung</i>, His Imperial + Majesty said that although the sky was apparently cloudless, + the atmosphere might be charged with electricity. He knew what + that electricity denoted. There were thunderbolts in the clouds + and thunderbolts on earth. Those on earth meant war and + invasion. He warned those who threatened the Fatherland, that + there were a million of swords ready to spring forth from a + million of scabbards. It was well enough to be neighbourly when + those who lived in your vicinity were benevolently inclined. + But when they showed a disposition to be offensive, then it was + necessary to sharpen your swords and keep your power dry. They + had already conquered France, and were not afraid of Russia. + Besides, the Army contained young soldiers who would be the + better for a real campaign. He himself had no objection to + visiting Paris and St. Petersburg, as a German Emperor + should—at the head of a German Army. Still he might again + remark, it was splendid weather, he saw nothing but blue + sky.</p> + + <div class="figleft" + style="width:18%;"> + <a href="images/99-2.png"><img width="100%" + src="images/99-2.png" + alt="Nose Everything." /></a>Nose Everything. + </div> + + <p>According to the <i>Nichtgeboren Zeitung</i>, His Imperial + Majesty said that, although the sky was apparently cloudless, + he recognised dangers a-head. He was willing to put himself + forward as the Leader of the toilers. It was their duty to + secure the best possible constitution, and then to force that + constitution upon all neighbouring people, if needs be, at the + point of the bayonet. He was not an alarmist, and said exactly + what he meant. He had no wish to beat about the bush. War was + the Hand-servant of Peace, and the sooner that servant came + back the better. He did not wish to threaten, but he told + Russia and France that Germany was ready to begin, when and + where they chose to meet him. But he might again remark it was + splendid weather, and he saw nothing but blue sky.</p> + + <p><i>Authorised Version</i> (<i>all others declared to be + misleading and inaccurate</i>).—His Imperial Majesty + merely observed that it was a fine day.</p> + <hr /> + + <p>ON BOARD A YACHT.—The conversation at lunch-time had + turned on recent publications. A learned Theban from Oxford + inquired of the Skipper, if he had seen the "<i>Rig-Veda</i>." + "What sort of Rig's that?" asked the Skipper, a bit puzzled. + But the Oxonian wisely declined a rigmarole explanation, and + told him that all further inquiries must be made to Professor + MAX MÜLLER.</p> + <hr /> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page100" + id="page100"></a>[pg 100]</span> + + <h2>FEELING THEIR WAY.</h2> + + <h4>(<i>A Study in the Art of Genteel Conversation.</i>)</h4> + + <blockquote> + <p>SCENE—<i>The Drawing-room of a Margate Hotel. + Time—evening.</i> Mrs. ARDLEIGH <i>(of Balham), + and</i> Mrs. ALLBUTT <i>(of Brondesbury), are discovered in + the midst of a conversation, in which each is anxious both + to impress the other, and ascertain how far she is a person + to be cultivated. At present, they have not got beyond the + discovery of a common bond in Cookery.</i></p> + </blockquote> + + <div class="drama"> + <p><i>Mrs. Allbutt.</i> You have the yolks of two eggs, I + must tell you; squeeze the juice of half a lemon into it, + and, when you boil the butter in the pan, make a paste of + it with <i>dry</i> flour.</p> + + <p><i>Mrs. Ardleigh.</i> It sounds delicious—but you + never can trust a Cook to carry out instructions + exactly.</p> + + <p><i>Mrs. All.</i> I never <i>do</i>. Whenever I want to + have anything specially nice for my husband, I make a point + of seeing to it myself. He appreciates it. Now <i>some</i> + men, if you cook for them, never notice whether it's you or + the Cook. My husband <i>does</i>.</p> + + <p><i>Mrs. Ard.</i> I wonder how you find time to do it. + I'm sure <i>I</i> should never—</p> + + <p><i>Mrs. All.</i> Oh, it takes time, of course—but + what does that matter when you've nothing to do? Did I + mention just a small pinch of Cayenne pepper?—because + that's a <i>great</i> improvement!</p> + + <p><i>Mrs. Ard.</i> I tell you what I like Cayenne pepper + with, better than anything—and that's eggs.</p> + + <p><i>Mrs. All.</i> (<i>with elegant languor</i>). I hardly + ever eat an egg. Oysters, now, I'm <i>very</i> fond + of—<i>fried</i>, that is.</p> + + <p><i>Mrs. Ard.</i> They're very nice done in the real + shells. Or on scollops. We have silver—or + rather—(<i>with a magnanimous impulse to tone down + her splendour</i>), silver-plated ones.</p> + + <p><i>Mrs. All.</i> How funny—so have we! (<i>Both + women feel an increase of liking for one another.</i>) I + like them cooked in milk, too.</p> + </div> + + <blockquote> + <p>[<i>The first barrier being satisfactorily passed, they + proceed, as usual, to the subject of ailments.</i></p> + </blockquote> + + <div class="drama"> + <p><i>Mrs. Ard.</i> My doctor <i>does</i> do me good, I + must say—he never lets me get ill. He just sees your + liver's all right, and then he feeds you up.</p> + + <p><i>Mrs. All.</i> That's like <i>my</i> doctor; he always + tells me, if he didn't keep on constantly building me up, I + should go all to pieces in no time. That's how I come to be + here. I always run down at the end of every Season.</p> + + <p><i>Mrs. Ard.</i> (<i>feeling that</i> Mrs. ALLBUTT + <i>can't be "anybody very particular" after all</i>). + What—to Margate? Fancy! Don't you find you get tired + of it? I should.</p> + + <p><i>Mrs. All.</i> (<i>with dignity</i>). I didn't say I + always went to Margate. On the contrary I have never been + here before, and shouldn't be here now, if my doctor hadn't + told me it was my only chance.</p> + + <p><i>Mrs. Ard.</i> (<i>reassured</i>). I only came down + here on my little girl's account. One of those nasty croopy + coughs, you know, and hoops with it. But she's almost well + already. I will say it's a wonderful air. Still, the worst + of Margate is, one isn't likely to meet a soul one + knows!</p> + + <p><i>Mrs. All.</i> Well, that's the charm of it—to + me. One has enough of that during the Season.</p> + + <p><i>Mrs. Ard.</i> (<i>recognising the superiority of this + view</i>). Indeed one has. What a whirl it has been to be + sure!</p> + </div> + + <div class="figright" + style="width:60%;"> + <a href="images/100.png"><img width="100%" + src="images/100.png" + alt="'Dear, dear! <i>not</i> a county family!'" /> + </a>"Dear, dear! <i>not</i> a county family!" + </div> + + <div class="drama"> + <p><i>Mrs. All.</i> The Season? Why, I never remember one + with so little doing. Most of the best houses + closed—hardly a single really smart party—one + or two weddings—and that's positively all!</p> + + <p><i>Mrs. Ard.</i> (<i>slightly crushed, in spite of a + conviction that—socially speaking—Balham has + been rather more brilliant than usual this year.</i>) Yes, + that's very true. I suppose the Elections have put a stop + to most things?</p> + + <p><i>Mrs. All.</i> There never was much going on. <i>I</i> + should rather have said it was Marlborough House being shut + up that made everything so dull from the first.</p> + + <p><i>Mrs. Ard.</i> Ah, that <i>does</i> make such a + difference, doesn't it? (<i>She feels she must make an + effort to recover lost ground.</i>) I fully expected to be + at Homburg this year.</p> + + <p><i>Mrs. All.</i> Then you would have met Lady NEURALINE + MENTHOL She <i>was</i> ordered there, I happen to know.</p> + + <p><i>Mrs. Ard.</i> Really, you don't say so? Lady + NEURALINE! Well, that's the first <i>I've</i> heard of it. + (<i>It is also the first time she has heard of HER, but she + trusts to be spared so humiliating an admission.</i>)</p> + + <p><i>Mrs. All.</i> It's a fact, I can assure you. You know + her, perhaps?</p> + + <p><i>Mrs. Ard.</i> (<i>who would dearly like to say she + does, if she only dared</i>). Well, I can hardly say I + exactly <i>know</i> her. I know <i>of</i> her. I've met her + about, and so on. (<i>She tells herself this is quite as + likely to be true as not.</i>)</p> + + <p><i>Mrs. All.</i> (<i>who, of course, does not know</i> + Lady NEURALINE <i>either</i>). Ah, she is a most delightful + person—requires <i>knowing</i>, don't you know.</p> + + <p><i>Mrs. Ard.</i> So many in her position do, don't they? + (<i>So far as she is concerned—they ALL do.</i>) + You'd think it was haughtiness—but it's really only + <i>manner</i>.</p> + + <p><i>Mrs. All.</i> (<i>feeling that she can go ahead with + safety now</i>). I have never found anything of <i>that</i> + sort in Lady NEURALINE myself (<i>which is perfectly + true</i>). She's rather odd and flighty, but <i>quite</i> a + dear. By the way, <i>how</i> sad it is about those poor + dear CHUTNEYS—the Countess, don't you know!</p> + + <p><i>Mrs. Ard.</i> Ah (<i>as if she knew all the rest of + the family</i>), I don't know <i>her</i> at all.</p> + + <p><i>Mrs. All.</i> Such a sweet woman—but the + trouble she's had with her eldest boy, Lord MANGO! He + married quite beneath him, you know, some girl from the + provinces—not a county-family girl even.</p> + + <p><i>Mrs. Ard.</i> (<i>shocked</i>). Dear, dear! + <i>not</i> a county family!</p> + + <p><i>Mrs. All.</i> No; somebody quite common—I + forget the name, but it was either GHERKIN or ONION, or + something of that sort. I was told they had been in Chili a + good while. Poor MANGO never had much taste, or he would + never have got mixed up with such a set. Anyway, he's got + himself into a terrible pickle. I hear Capsicums is + actually to be sold to pay his debts.</p> + + <p><i>Mrs. Ard.</i> You don't say so! Capsicums! + Gracious!</p> + + <p><i>Mrs. All.</i> Yes, <i>isn't</i> it a pity! Such a + lovely old place as it was, too—<i>the</i> most + comfortable house to stay at in all England; so beautifully + <i>warm</i>! But it's dreadful to think of how the + aristocracy are taking to marry out of their own set. Look + at the Duke of DRAGNET—married a Miss + DUCKWEED—goodness only knows where he picked her up! + but he got entangled somehow, and now his people are trying + to get rid of her. I see so many of these cases. Well, I'm + afraid I must wish you good evening—it's my time for + retiring. (<i>Patronisingly.</i>) I've quite enjoyed this + conversation—such a pleasure in a place like this to + come across a congenial companion!</p> + + <p><i>Mrs. Ard.</i> (<i>fluttered and flattered</i>). I'm + sure you're exceedingly kind to say so, and I can say the + same for myself. I hope we may become better acquainted. + (<i>To herself, after</i> Mrs. ALLBUTT <i>has + departed.</i>) I've quite taken to that woman—she's + so thoroughly the lady, and moves in very high society, + too. You can tell that from the way she talks. What's that + paper oil the table? (<i>She picks up a journal in a + coloured wrapper.) Society Snippets, the Organ of the Upper + Ten. One Penny.</i> The very thing I wanted. It's such a + comfort to know who's who. (<i>She opens it and reads + sundry paragraphs headed</i> "Through the Keyhole.") Now + how funny this is! Here's the very same thing about the + dulness of <span class="pagenum"><a name="page101" + id="page101"></a>[pg 101]</span> the Season that she + said. That shows she must be really in it. And a note + about Lady NEURALINE being about to recruit at Homburg. + And another about her reputation for eccentricity, and + her "sweetness to the select few privileged to be her + intimates." And here's all about Lord MANGO, and what a + pleasant house Capsicums is, and his marriage, and the + Duke of DRAGNET's too. Her information was very correct, + I must say! (<i>A light begins to break in upon + her</i>.) I wonder whether—but there—people + of her sort wouldn't require to read the papers for such + things.</p> + </div> + + <blockquote> + <p>[<i>Here the door opens, and</i> Mrs. ALLBUTT + <i>appears, in some embarrassment.</i></p> + </blockquote> + + <div class="drama"> + <p><i>Mrs. All.</i> (<i>scrutinising the tables</i>). Oh, + it's nothing. I thought I'd left something of mine here; it + was only a paper—I see I was mistaken, don't + trouble.</p> + + <p><i>Mrs. Ard.</i> (<i>producing</i> Society Snippets). I + expect it will be this. (Mrs. ALLBUTT's face <i>reveals her + ownership</i>.) I took it up, not knowing it was yours. + (<i>Meaningly.</i>) It has some highly interesting + information, I see.</p> + + <p><i>Mrs. All.</i> (<i>slightly demoralised</i>). Oh, has + it? I—I've not had time to glance at it yet. Pray + don't let me deprive you of it. I dare say there's very + little in it I don't know already.</p> + + <p><i>Mrs. Ard.</i> So I should have thought. (<i>To + herself, after</i> Mrs. ALLBUTT <i>has retired in + disorder.</i>) Fancy that woman trying to take me in like + that, and no more in Society than I am—if so much! + However, I've found her out before going too + far—luckily. And I've a good mind to take in this + <i>Society Snippets</i> myself—it certainly does + improve one's conversation. She won't have it <i>all</i> + her own way <i>next</i> time!</p> + </div> + <hr /> + + <h2>POPULAR SONGS RE-SUNG.</h2> + + <h3>No. IX.—"IN THE MORNING."</h3> + + <p>The Music-hall Muse, if not exactly impeccably moral, is, at + least, good at moralising. Not only to topers, Totties, larky + Benedicts and spreeish servant-maids, is there pregnant meaning + in the warning words "But oh! what a difference in the + morning!!!" As may thus—<i>pace</i> "NORTON ATKINS" and + "FELIX MCGLENNON"—be made manifest:—</p> + + <div class="figright" + style="width:35%;"> + <a href="images/101.png"><img width="100%" + src="images/101.png" + alt="'He curses speculation in the morning!'" /> + </a>"He curses speculation in the morning!" + </div> + + <h4>AIR—"<i>In the Morning!</i>"</h4> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>I'd sing of the singular triumphs we see,</p> + + <p class="i10">At night, at night!</p> + + <p>In Politics, Pleasure, Love, Art, L.S.D.,</p> + + <p class="i10">At night, at night!</p> + + <p>The "Johnnies" of Sport and the "Oof-birds" of + Cash,</p> + + <p>The Statesmen who shine, and the Beauties who + mash,</p> + + <p>Are in champagny spirits and cut quite a dash,</p> + + <p class="i10">At night, at night!</p> + + <p>But oh! don't their hearts ache,</p> + + <p class="i10">In the morning?</p> + + <p>Then cometh disillusion and self-scorning.</p> + + <p>Things look their natural size</p> + + <p class="i10">Unto hot awaking eyes,</p> + + <p>For no gingerbread is gilded,</p> + + <p class="i10">In the morning!</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>A Premier potent may perorate free,</p> + + <p class="i10">At night, at night!</p> + + <p>And pretty Primrosers will shout and agree,</p> + + <p class="i10">At night, at night!</p> + + <p>He'll say those brave Orangemen Home Rule will + quash,</p> + + <p>He'll hint that raised Tariffs trade rivals must + smash,</p> + + <p>And his eloquence sounds neither rabid nor rash,</p> + + <p class="i10">At night, at night!</p> + + <p>But oh! what a difference</p> + + <p class="i10">In the morning!</p> + + <p>He vows he merely meant a friendly warning,</p> + + <p>But fuss and fad 'twill boom.</p> + + <p>And his colleagues growl with gloom</p> + + <p>O'er the "<i>Times</i>" upon their tables,</p> + + <p class="i10">In the morning!</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Observe what the Specials call "News of the Day"</p> + + <p class="i10">At night, at night!</p> + + <p>The Dalziel Telegrams startle, and slay,</p> + + <p class="i10">At night, at night!</p> + + <p>There's war in the East, or the CZAR is laid + low,</p> + + <p>Financiers have failed—Fifty Millions or + so!—</p> + + <p>Or they've found Jack the Ripper in far Jericho,</p> + + <p class="i10">At night, at night!</p> + + <p>But oh, what a difference</p> + + <p class="i10">In the morning!</p> + + <p>Those Latest Wires were lies, small facts + adorning.</p> + + <p>"It is not as we stated,</p> + + <p>For the cable's mutilated,"</p> + + <p>And "we hear 'tis contradicted"</p> + + <p class="i10">In the morning!</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Regard the young Clerk who's been out for the + day,</p> + + <p class="i10">At night, at night!</p> + + <p>First to the Derby, and then to the play,</p> + + <p class="i10">At night, at night!</p> + + <p>He "spotted a winner" at twenty to one,</p> + + <p>His winnings will far more than pay for his fun;</p> + + <p>He's happy, free-handed, and "sure as a gun,"</p> + + <p class="i10">At night, at night!</p> + + <p>But oh, what a difference</p> + + <p class="i10">In the morning!</p> + + <p>The bookie bolts, his "gaffer" gives him + warning,</p> + + <p>He's not worth half-a-dollar,</p> + + <p>His prospect's "out of collar,"</p> + + <p>And he curses speculation</p> + + <p class="i10">In the morning!</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Behold the young playwright who hears his own + piece,</p> + + <p class="i10">At night, at night!</p> + + <p>He thinks that (ironic) applause will ne'er + cease,</p> + + <p class="i10">At night, at night!</p> + + <p>His "little one-act thing" is stodgy and slow,</p> + + <p>But the Pit is good-natured, the youth's in a + glow,</p> + + <p>And he thinks—with some "cuts"—it will + be "a great go,"</p> + + <p class="i10">At night, at night!</p> + + <p>But oh, what a difference</p> + + <p class="i10">In the morning!</p> + + <p>The critics call the thing "an awful warning,"</p> + + <p>They "guy," and sneer, and scoff,</p> + + <p>And his bantling's taken off,</p> + + <p>"To make room for some old farce, Sir!"</p> + + <p class="i10">In the morning!</p> + </div> + </div> + <hr /> + + <h2>TAKING THE OAT-CAKE.</h2> + + <p>DEAR MR. PUNCH,—I was very much interested in the + statement I saw in the papers the other day, that the best + preservatives of a Lady's complexion are—Oatmeal and + Oranges! I at once began the diet, but have not succeeded very + well at present. Porridge, even with milk and cream, and plenty + of sugar, is such <i>commonplace</i> stuff, and one can't + really be expected to eat oatmeal <i>raw</i>, though Scotch + gamekeepers are said to do so. But then they are out in the + open air all day, and I am not. Oranges are nice + enough—but oh, <i>Mr. Punch</i>, what a lot of them one + has to take before one feels as if one had had a meal! As I + have stopped all other food, I am becoming rather weak. My + complexion is, I think, improved—at all events, it is far + less red or pink than it used to be—but I really haven't + the strength to go out of doors to show it off. Even writing is + a burden—so I will close, hoping that my experiences may + benefit others who like to try the regimen.</p> + + <p class="author">LYDIA LANGUISH.</p> + + <p>P.S.—My Doctor has just stopped the diet!</p> + + <p>DEAR SIR,—We are sure that the Oatmeal-and-Orange + prescription is an invaluable one for the complexion. We + recently tried it on a Street Arab, and after one or two + doses—accompanied by the employment of soap and + water—he developed such a beautiful pink-and-white skin, + that his parents failed to recognise him. This was unfortunate + in one way, as he has now become chargeable on the rates. + Talking of rates, we may mention that we supply finest + Midlothian Campaign Oatmeal at a more reasonable figure than + any other firm in the trade. Price-list on application.</p> + + <p class="author">Yours obediently, McCANNY & Co.</p> + + <p><i>Edinburgh</i>.</p> + + <p>SIR,—I am not less than fifty years' old, and marked + with small-pox, and therefore I think that Oatmeal and Oranges + would be sure to do my complexion good. As mine is perhaps a + rather unusual case, I am trying the remedy in a peculiarly + thorough way. I have an Oatmeal-bath twice a day, during which + I suck six oranges. My breakfast consists of porridge and + marmalade. I have engaged a policeman to knock at my front door + three times every night, to wake me. I then sit up in bed and + consume oat-cakes soaked in orange-juice. I also dress in + yellow, and I have written to Belfast to ask if I can be + admitted to an Orange Society there, but hitherto I have + received no reply. You will, I think, agree with me that I am + giving the new treatment a fair trial. Yours truly,</p> + + <p class="author">TABITHA NUPKINS.</p> + <hr /> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page102" + id="page102"></a>[pg 102]</span> + + <div class="figcenter" + style="width:100%;"> + <a href="images/102.png"><img width="100%" + src="images/102.png" + alt="UNLUCKY COMPLIMENTS." /></a> + + <h3>UNLUCKY COMPLIMENTS.</h3> + + <p><i>Shy but Susceptible Youth</i>. "ER—<i>COULD</i> + YOU TELL ME WHO THAT YOUNG LADY IS—SKETCHING?"</p> + + <p><i>Affable Stranger</i>. "SHE HAS THE MISFORTUNE TO BE + MY WIFE!"</p> + + <p><i>Shy but Susceptible One</i> (<i>desperately anxious + to please, and losing all presence of mind</i>). + "OH—THE MISFORTUNE'S ENTIRELY <i>YOURS</i>, I'M + <i>SURE</i>!"</p> + </div> + <hr /> + + <h2>THE BAMSGATE SANDS.</h2> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>It's hey for the sands, for the jolly Ramsgate + Sands,</p> + + <p>Where the children shout and tumble, spade and + bucket in their hands.</p> + + <p>Where sandy castles rise in scores, I trow a man + might float</p> + + <p>A fleet of six-inch pleasure-skiffs on many a + deep-dug moat.</p> + + <p>Where, while the banjos discord make, the German + bands make noise,</p> + + <p>And nursemaids by the hundred shepherd flocks of + girls and boys.</p> + + <p>Where the boys tuck up their trousers, and the girls + tuck up their frocks,</p> + + <p>A paddling tribe who scorn their shoes and customary + socks.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Ye loud-voiced men of cocoa-nuts, what is it that + you say?</p> + + <p>"Come try yer luck, roll, bowl, or pitch; the lydies + stand' alf-way."</p> + + <p>One youth I saw who took his stand, a clerk of pith + was he,</p> + + <p>He shut one eye and aimed with care, then let the + ball fly free.</p> + + <p>Twice, thrice, nay, thirty times he flung, his BETSY + standing by,</p> + + <p>And scornfully advising him to close his other + eye.</p> + + <p>Yet, when at last he had to own he could not do the + trick,</p> + + <p>No solitary cocoa-nut had toppled from its + stick.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Papa is in his glory here, that proud and happy + man,</p> + + <p>But in spite of all his efforts, he can't get + coloured tan.</p> + + <p>Yet every week-day morning, from ten o'clock till + one,</p> + + <p>He turns that British face of his unflinching to the + sun.</p> + + <p>Mamma she sits beside him; I overheard her say,</p> + + <p>"Lor, Pa, you'll soon be brown as brown, you're not + so red to-day."</p> + + <p>But wives can't flatter tints away, and when he + leaves the place,</p> + + <p>I'd guarantee to light my pipe at Pa's tomato + face.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>A front-row stall I quick secured, a green and gaudy + bench,</p> + + <p>And paid my humble penny to a very buxom wench.</p> + + <p>The tide was running out amain, and slowly, bit by + bit,</p> + + <p>She moved her back seats forward till she left me in + the pit.</p> + + <p>Stout Mr. BIGGS, the hair-dresser, the Bond-Street + mould of form,</p> + + <p>Sat next me with his family, and seemed to find it + warm;</p> + + <p>And, while admiring Mrs. B. hung on her BIGGS's + lips.</p> + + <p>He favoured me, as is his wont, with all the + sporting tips.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>But the most delightful object I saw upon that + shore</p> + + <p>Was a ruddy-faced and chubby-legged philosopher of + four.</p> + + <p>Though his sisters capered round him, the sage + refused to budge,</p> + + <p>He continued quietly digging just as solemn as a + judge;</p> + + <p>And if he fell, as men may fall, he spurned their + proffered aid,</p> + + <p>But lay awhile and pondered, while he clutched his + wooden spade;</p> + + <p>Then, having thought some problem out, and found + that life was vain,</p> + + <p>He slowly raised his three-foot form, and set to + work again.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>And so the round of pleasure goes; a man could + scarce believe</p> + + <p>How swift the merry hours spin by from dewy morn to + eve.</p> + + <p>The goat-carts never want for fares fresh from their + nurses' arms,</p> + + <p>All day the patient donkeys bear some maid's or + matron's charms.</p> + + <p>The haughty ones may carp and sneer, we know their + sorry style,</p> + + <p>But we who revel on this shore can hear them with a + smile.</p> + + <p>We may be vulgar; what's the odds? We're + cottage-folk, not "Grands,"</p> + + <p>And our simple pleasures please us on the jolly + Ramsgate Sands.</p> + </div> + </div> + <hr /> + + <p>DRURIOLANUS'S NEXT.—<i>The Prodigal Daughter</i> is to + be produced, when she's of proper age to come out, at Drury + Lane. Who gave her that name? Is it her "<i>Pettitt nom</i>," + or was it her Godfather, Sir DRURIOLANUS LE GRAND, or was it + the joint effort of GRAND <i>et</i> PETTITT, so as to satisfy + all comers Great and Small? <i>The Prodigal Son</i> has already + served as the title of an Opera directly founded on the + Scriptural parable of the Prodigal, and has recently been used + as the title of the now famous <i>ballet d'action</i>. There + was also a <i>Père Prodigue</i>—which the English + schoolboy thought was French for an uncommonly big Marie Louise + specimen; so there is justification and authority for bringing + this new member of <i>The Prodigal</i> family before the + Public. Having once started, there maybe no end to the family + of Prodigals. There will follow—<i>The Prodigal Aunt</i>, + <i>The Prodigal Uncle</i>, <i>The Prodigal Second Cousin by + first Husband's Marriage</i>, and so on, <i>ad + infinitum</i>.</p> + <hr /> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page103" + id="page103"></a>[pg 103]</span> + + <div class="figcenter" + style="width:100%;"> + <a href="images/103.png"><img width="100%" + src="images/103.png" + alt="'THE LITTLE VULGAR BOY.'" /></a> + + <h3>"THE LITTLE VULGAR BOY."</h3>MASTER LABBY (<i>to the + Butler</i>). "WON'T GIVE ME A SITUATION, WON'T YER? THEN + I'LL BREAK YER WINDOWS! YA-AH!!" + </div> + <hr /> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page105" + id="page105"></a>[pg 105]</span> + + <h2>THE LAND OF THE (RATHER TOO) FREE.</h2> + + <blockquote> + <p>SCENE—<i>The Landing-Stage of an English + Port.</i></p> + </blockquote> + + <div class="drama"> + <p><i>Custom-House Officer</i> (<i>through an + interpreter</i>). Do you speak English?</p> + + <p><i>Emigrant</i> (<i>ditto</i>). No.</p> + + <p><i>Cust.-H. Off.</i> (<i>as before</i>). Have you any + money?</p> + + <p><i>Emi.</i> (<i>ditto</i>). Not a kopeck.</p> + + <p><i>Cust.-H. Off.</i> Where do you come from?</p> + + <p><i>Emi.</i> Polish Russia.</p> + + <p><i>Cust.-H. Off.</i> Have you any family?</p> + + <p><i>Emi.</i> A sick wife and eight sick children.</p> + + <p><i>Cust.-H. Off.</i> Do any of you know a trade?</p> + + <p><i>Emi.</i> None of us.</p> + + <p><i>Cust.-H. Off.</i> Are you well enough to work?</p> + + <p><i>Emi.</i> No.</p> + + <p><i>Cust.-H. Off.</i> Have you any friends in + England?</p> + + <p><i>Emi.</i> Don't know a soul.</p> + + <p><i>Cust.-H. Off.</i> Have you any luggage?</p> + + <p><i>Emi.</i> Only the Cholera!</p> + </div> + <hr /> + + <p>A COMPENDIOUSLY GRAMMATICAL TREE.—A Yew Tree. First it + may be a 'Igh Tree, but it is a Yew Tree. It is either a He + Tree or a She Tree. If small, it represents the first person + plural by being a "Wee Tree:" the second person plural is the + Manager and Manageress of the Haymarket, "Ye Trees;" and the + third person plural would be expressed by a Devonshire Gardener + indicating this talented couple as "They Trees."</p> + <hr /> + + <h2>TEE, TEE, ONLY TEE!</h2> + + <h4>(<i>Song of the Golf Enthusiast. After Thomas + Moore</i>.)</h4> + + <center> + AIR—"<i>Thee, thee, only thee</i>." + </center> + + <div class="figright" + style="width:38%;"> + <a href="images/105-1.png"><img width="100%" + src="images/105-1.png" + alt="" /></a> + </div> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>The dawn of morn, the daylight's sinking,</p> + + <p>Shall find me on the Links, and thinking</p> + + <p class="i4">Of Tee, Tee, only Tee!</p> + + <p>When rivals meet upon the ground,</p> + + <p class="i2">The Putting-green's a realm + enchanted,</p> + + <p>Nay, in Society's giddy round</p> + + <p class="i2">My soul, (like Tooting's thralls) is + haunted</p> + + <p class="i4">By Tee, Tee, only Tee!'</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>For that at early morn I waken,</p> + + <p>And swiftly bolt my eggs and bacon,</p> + + <p class="i4">For Tee, Tee, only Tee!</p> + + <p>I'm game to start all in the dark</p> + + <p class="i2">To the Links hurrying—resting + never.</p> + + <p>The Caddie yawns, but, like a lark,</p> + + <p class="i2">I halt not, heed not, hastening ever</p> + + <p class="i4">To Tee, Tee, only Tee!</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Of chilly fog I am no funker,</p> + + <p>I'll brave the very biggest bunker</p> + + <p class="i4">For Tee, Tee, only Tee!</p> + + <p>A spell that nought on earth can break</p> + + <p class="i2">Holds me. Golf's charms can ne'er be + <i>spoken</i>;</p> + + <p>But late I'll sleep, and early wake,</p> + + <p class="i2">Of loyalty be this my token,</p> + + <p class="i4">To Tee, Tee, only Tee!</p> + </div> + </div> + <hr /> + + <h2>INNS AND OUTS.</h2> + + <h3 class="sc">No. II.—The Head-Wetter.</h3> + + <p>I entitle him as self-pronounced. If "Mr." is the + Grand-Hôtel Jupiter, the Head-Waiter is its Mercury. Nothing + modern is so versatile as the Head-Waiter. The first thing + about the Head-Waiter is his cigars. These are covered with + tinsel and colours: very gay—almost as gay as the + Head-Waiter. They are of unpronounceable and unknown brands. + They vary in price and size, but agree in + flavour—liquorice, tempered by ink. Like the fabled + fruit, they crumble to ashes in your mouth. If you are only a + bird of passage, you will often find a box or so in your room. + "Great opportunity—veritable Pestarenas of + Nockudaun—one whole box for a sovereign English," the + Head-Waiter assures you. The memory of that man is astounding; + he remembers all the numbers, all the wines, all the names, and + all the Lady's-maids. For he is a bit of a <i>Leporello</i>, is + the Head-Waiter.</p> + + <div class="figright" + style="width:20%;"> + <a href="images/105-2.png"><img width="100%" + src="images/105-2.png" + alt="'One whole box for a sovereign English.'" /> + </a>"One whole box for a sovereign English." + </div> + + <p>After dinner, where he takes a dozen orders, makes a dozen + recommendations, and tells a dozen lies at once, you may see + him philandering by the Lake with MARY ANN, JEANETTE, and + KLARA, all jealous, and all adoring, teaching each the language + of the other, and all the art of love. I have often envied him. + The Head-Waiter's life is a "happy one." He is ubiquitous; + Egypt, The Riviera, Switzerland, and Italy, see him by turns; + in each he has a white waistcoat, of which Mr. CHAMBERLAIN + might be proud, infinite occupation, and infinite diversion; + his nimbleness, his light-heartedness, his languages, and his + cigars, are inexhaustible.</p> + + <p>How we besiege him in the morning! "Luncheon, ADOLF, for a + party of seven, in a basket—a <i>nice</i> basket, you + know—and don't forget the corkscrew." "Yes, yes, I + know—and you take the bottle-bier—it is much better + nor the warne. Ha! Ha!" What a laugh!—a roguish, + child-like merriment of a Greek-godlike character—or want + of it. Old Ladies talk to him quite trustingly at first sight; + it's "ADOLF, <i>have</i> you such a thing as a bottle of + gum—<i>gummi</i>, gum, you understand"; or, "<i>Could</i> + you get me another cushion"? He can, and does. As for the + children, they love him; he romps with them, and does conjuring + tricks, and warbles innumerable songs. That man gets through + more in one day than the Prime Minister of England—and, + between you and me, I believe he is fully as capable—and + yet he finds time to write a letter to his old mother at + Hamburg—I have seen him do it. Perhaps it was about the + cigars! The only people who hate ADOLF are the Under-Waiters; + he rules them with a rod of iron, marshalling their heated + battalions at <i>table d'hôte</i>, and plundering them of their + sweethearts; if he breaks anything (hearts included), it is + they who have to pay. It is ADOLF's only weakness—he is a + bully to underlings of his own trade. But then he has been an + Under-Waiter once himself, and suffering brutalises; however, + he is outside the sphere of morality, and I could pardon him + almost anything.</p> + + <p>From time to time his fascinations induce an Englishman or + Englishwoman to take this treasure home as a servant. But ADOLF + in livery, and ADOLF with his magic order-book, are two very + different people. Little things are missing; he becomes + quarrelsome; the gipsy-spirit returns—and he is off + again, blithe as ever, on his travels. "London very naice," he + says, as you buy that infernal Pestarena; "Porebier, very + naise; 'Ampton Court, very naise; I know dem, hein? But, is no + sunshine, no air, no gaiety." And ADOLF cannot exist without + sunshine, air, and gaiety. Also he prefers being his own + master, which, as Head-Waiter, he practically is.</p> + + <p>How insinuating he is about the food, "Some naice fishes? + Dey was laiving dis morning." And then, how accommodating! I + was once in the Grand Hôtel during the usual "exceptional + season," when it rained unintermittently for a fortnight; the + place was empty; "tristeful," as ADOLF styled it. The genius + played billiards with me every day, and always won, though I + rather fancy myself; and then how mindful he is of your + individual bettings. "I gif you dis place by de + window—<i>to do you joy</i>!" he ejaculates. The simple + creature, he is constantly trying to "make you please."</p> + + <p>I always present ADOLF with ten shillings—five on + arrival, and five on departure. This procures me many harmless + little privileges; and when old BROWN calls him an impertinent + brute, I know that BROWN and ten shillings are difficult to + part.</p> + + <p>There is nothing ADOLF will not do for you for a + sovereign—but I cannot run to this; and yet this is the + impression he has made.</p> + <hr /> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page106" + id="page106"></a>[pg 106]</span> + + <div class="figcenter" + style="width:70%;"> + <a href="images/106-1.png"><img width="100%" + src="images/106-1.png" + alt="A LITTLE VAGUE!" /></a> + + <h3>A LITTLE VAGUE!</h3> + + <p><i>Affable Landlady</i> (<i>to her new Artist + Lodger</i>), "AND I SUPPOSE, SIR, YOU COMES FROM + ABROAD!"</p> + + <p><i>Foreign Lodger</i>. "SO! I GOME VROM AUSTRIA."</p> + + <p><i>A.L.</i> "DO YOU HINDEED, SIR? FROM HOSTRIA! AH! HOW + THAT'S WHERE THE HOSTRICHES COMES FROM, I SUPPOSE?!!"</p> + </div> + <hr /> + + <h2>AN OLD AND NEW PEER.</h2> + + <p>DEAR MR. PUNCH,—Look here! I've done good service in + my time, and no one likes to see himself deprived of an + honoured title, or forced to take a back seat. I've been + trodden under-foot over and over again—but I've borne it + with fortitude, and never, never given way. Now, what do I + hear? That a Gentleman, a Government Whip, for whom I have the + highest esteem and respect, is now to assume the title which, + by right of position, place, time, and prescription, belongs to + me, and <i>to me only</i>, I can bear much, but, after so many + years of devoted service, during which, with all my + opportunities, I have never once made any attempt to leave my + place to go higher up, or to go lower down, or, in either case, + to go with the tide, I cannot, and, indeed, will not, yield my + title to anyone, however good and useful to his Party he may + have been, but proudly declaring myself as good as any "Sprig + of Nobility," even as this one who cometh up as a Flower, I + beg, protestingly, to remind the world at large that I am + "<i>Nulli Secundus</i>," and <i>de facto et dejure</i>,</p> + + <p class="author">THE ONLY BATTERSEA PEER.</p> + + <p>P.S.—Spell it with an "i" or "e," it's all one. If my + "i" is put out, and "<i>he</i>" has got in instead, that's a + mere quibble or quebble.</p> + <hr /> + + <div class="figleft" + style="width:30%;"> + <a href="images/106-2.png"><img width="100%" + src="images/106-2.png" + alt="Cowley Lambert." /></a>Cowley Lambert. + </div> + + <div class="figright" + style="width:20%;"> + <a href="images/106-3.png"><img width="100%" + src="images/106-3.png" + alt="H. Campbell." /></a>H. Campbell. + </div> + + <h2>MEMBERS WE SHALL MISS.</h2> + + <p>Our Old Parliamentary Artistic Hand been at it again; + looking with eyesight blurred with sorrow on familiar forms of + some Members stranded at General Election. Dismembered, and, + for some time at least, not to be remembered. COWLEY LAMBERT + always been a rover. Went Midland Circuit for short time, and + having made the Circuit, made for home. Then he accomplished "A + Trip to Cashmere and Ladak." Opportunity now for varying + itinerary, and making a "Trip to Ladak and Cashmere." Must be + moving somewhere. Wrote himself down in <i>Dod</i> "a + Progressive Conservative." Has now progressed out of sight of + the Chair. This particular CAMPBELL is neither coming nor + going. He's gone.</p> + + <p>PULESTON seems quite pleased to find LLEWELLYN sitting + there, all unconscious of his doom. PULESTON a little + astonished himself when things went bad at Carnarvon. Only + short time ago made Constable of Castle; thought P.C. PULESTON + sure to come in at head of poll; but, "from information + received," appears he didn't.</p> + + <div class="figleft" + style="width:32%;"> + <a href="images/106-4.png"><img width="100%" + src="images/106-4.png" + alt="E.H. Llewellyn." /></a>E.H. Llewellyn. + </div> + + <div class="figright" + style="width:20%;"> + <a href="images/106-5.png"><img width="100%" + src="images/106-5.png" + alt="Sir J.H. Puleston." /></a>Sir J.H. Puleston. + </div> + + <p>Observe the eye of HAVELOCK-ALLAN on the alert. He cannot + see behind his back, but instinctively knows there is an Irish + Member in the vicinity. His teeth close, his moustache curls, + his eyes glare. He once publicly, in course of debate, sat upon + an Irish Member; not metaphorically, but physically. Irish + Member, when he wriggled from under, appealed to SPEAKER on + point of order. SPEAKER ruled proceeding decidedly out of + order. "But I sat on him, TOBY, dear boy," HAVELOCK said, + triumphantly; "and I shall retain the impression to end of my + life."</p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page107" + id="page107"></a>[pg 107]</span> + + <div class="figcenter" + style="width:100%;"> + <a href="images/107.png"><img width="100%" + src="images/107.png" + alt="THE GRAND OLD GARDENER." /></a> + + <h3>THE GRAND OLD GARDENER.</h3> + </div><span class="pagenum"><a name="page108" + id="page108"></a>[pg 108]</span> + + <div class="figleft" + style="width:30%;"> + <a href="images/108-1.png"><img width="100%" + src="images/108-1.png" + alt="Sir H. Havelock-Allan." /></a>Sir H. + Havelock-Allan. + </div> + + <div class="figright" + style="width:18%;"> + <a href="images/108-2.png"><img width="100%" + src="images/108-2.png" + alt="A.A. Baumann." /></a>A.A. Baumann. + </div> + + <p>"So will he," I observed, when HAVELOCK was safe out of + hearing. He doesn't like retorts.</p> + + <p>The sketch of BAUMANN evidently taken at the moment he heard + the announcement of poll at North Salford. Seems to have + knocked him rather of a heap. Was known in House as Cupid's + Bowman; a smart able, useful Member, whom we shall all be glad + to see back again.</p> + <hr /> + + <h2>OUR BOOKING-OFFICE.</h2> + + <div class="figright" + style="width:50%;"> + <a href="images/108-3.png"><img width="100%" + src="images/108-3.png" + alt="A Poppylar Writer in Poppy Land." /></a>A + Poppylar Writer in Poppy Land. + </div> + + <p>"'Over the Hills and far away!' follow yours faithfully + CLEMENT SCOTT." This is the full title, and signed advice to + the public given on the frontispiece of his little shilling + book published by EGLINTON. It is dedicated to Sir EDWARD + LAWSON—"right thing to do my boy!"—and + appropriately so, as if the Baron's memory runneth not to the + contrary, most if not all the articles in this author's little + holiday-book have appeared at some time or other in the + <i>D.T.</i>, and do not suffer any D.T.rioration by being bound + up together in this shilling volume. It tells of a visit to + Hayling, where he picked up health, strength, and an aspirate, + when he went there ailing; he tells of Suffolk, where a branch + of the Great Punchian Family is settled, known as The Suffolk + Punches; he prattles of <i>Honeymoon Land</i>, where he met the + man with seven wives, each of whom had a cat, and to each cat + there was a kit, and to each wife a kit too, it is to be hoped, + in the shape otherwise of a <i>trousseau</i>, and of many other + pleasant restful places and refreshing jaunts he tells + delightfully. "But of all the pleasant places in which his + lines have fallen, commend me," quoth the Baron,—"and the + lines he has written will send many to these pleasant + places—(But O the Trippers!)—of all these give me + the <i>Flower Farm at Holy Vale</i> and the <i>Valley of + Ferns</i>." If the reader cannot go to all the sweet resorts + herein mentioned, let him be induced by the first article to + visit <i>Holy Vale</i>, and he will find CLEMENT SCOTT an + admirable guide for "the Scilly Season." Of course our + NOT-YET-DUN-SCOTUS hath visited the Cyril-Flower-Farm on the + Norfolk Coast. Advice: Stand not on the money-order of your + going, but go at once, and stop there. As to money, remember + your Uncle dwells in Poppy Land, quoth their true friend,</p> + + <p class="author">THE TRAVELLED BARON DE BOOK-WORMS.</p> + + <p>P.S.—A youthful shootist bought the Poppyland book + because he thought that it would tell him all about where to go + popping. Also a bashful suitor was misled by the title, hoping + that in Poppy Land he would learn how to "Pop—the + question." The Learned Author has not said one word about the + "weasels that go pop," which, of course, are natives of Poppy + Land.</p> + <hr /> + + <h2>"THE RIFT WITHIN THE LUTE."</h2> + + <div class="figright" + style="width:35%;"> + <a href="images/108-4.png"><img width="100%" + src="images/108-4.png" + alt="" /></a> + </div> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>It surely sounds a pretty phrase,</p> + + <p class="i2">Some pöesy for woe it wins,</p> + + <p>Commemorating roundelays</p> + + <p class="i2">And troubadours and mandolins:</p> + + <p>We seem to view some minstrel-boy</p> + + <p class="i2">Beside his shattered music mute,</p> + + <p>The shattered string, the ruined joy—</p> + + <p class="i2">The Rift within the Lute.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>How swift the slip from tune to twang!</p> + + <p class="i2">Sweets bitter grow, as aye they did;</p> + + <p>For e'en the Roman poet sang</p> + + <p class="i2">"<i>Surgit amari aliquid</i>."</p> + + <p>Our pigmy worries turn us grey;</p> + + <p class="i2">And sorrows fierce are less acute;</p> + + <p>Our hearts are riddled every day</p> + + <p class="i2">With Rifts within the Lute.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>You envy FORTUNATUS—rich—</p> + + <p class="i2">A charming bride—subservient + friends.</p> + + <p>To rival him were something which</p> + + <p class="i2">The dream of Avarice transcends.</p> + + <p>That charming bride a mother owns</p> + + <p class="i2">Whom FORTUNATUS brands a brute:</p> + + <p>She mars his life's entrancing tones—</p> + + <p class="i2">His Rift within the Lute!</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Then, PEREGRINE—he journeys far;</p> + + <p class="i2">Unshackled, he by toil's routine:</p> + + <p>By turns he quaffs a samovar</p> + + <p class="i2">Or sherbet, as he shifts his scene.</p> + + <p>"Strong as a horse!"—ah! there's the + string</p> + + <p class="i2">That snaps asunder—"to + recruit."</p> + + <p>He wanders, manufacturing</p> + + <p class="i2">A Rift within his Lute.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>And DULCINEA! What a life!</p> + + <p class="i2">Adoring crowds, adornments rare</p> + + <p>And many fain to call her wife,</p> + + <p class="i2">And sue her smiles in Belgrave + Square.</p> + + <p>And yet her Fetch-and-carry swears</p> + + <p class="i2">He heard her, while he pressed his + suit,</p> + + <p>Sigh, "Bored to desperation!"—there's</p> + + <p class="i2">A Rift within that Lute.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>What need more trivial ills to quote,</p> + + <p class="i2">The freshly-furnished house that + shines,</p> + + <p>The coxcomb's fashionable coat,</p> + + <p class="i2">Both brushed and polished "to the + nines,"</p> + + <p>Both yielding to some fatal flaw;</p> + + <p class="i2">A crack; a fiend who plays the flute;</p> + + <p>Both, both examples of the law</p> + + <p class="i2">Of Rift within the Lute.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Whate'er the dulcet instrument</p> + + <p class="i2">We favour, still the lilt will stop;</p> + + <p>And with a gorgeous chalice blent</p> + + <p class="i2">Oft lurks the tiny poisoned drop.</p> + + <p>I'm not so spry myself to-night;</p> + + <p class="i2">I'll try a dose of arrowroot.</p> + + <p>You'll own that Indigestion's quite</p> + + <p class="i2">A Rift in any Lute!</p> + </div> + </div> + <hr /> + + <p>"WALKER ART GALLERY."—Show commences this week at + Liverpool. <i>The</i> WALKER was a Genius. But is this show all + "Walker," or the genuine article? Has Mr. J.L. TOOLE, of + <i>Walker, London</i>, anything to do with it? No doubt it's + quite "'O.K.' WALKER, Liverpool."</p> + <hr /> + + <p>POLITICAL PRIZE RING RIDDLE.—Why was the win of the + Gladstonian Party at Newcastle like the triumph of a + single-fisted pugilist over his two-handed opponent? Because + the victory was achieved with one "MORLEY."</p> + <hr /> + + <p>☞ NOTICE.—Rejected Communications or + Contributions, whether MS., Printed Matter, Drawings, or + Pictures of any description, will in no case be returned, not + even when accompanied by a Stamped and Addressed Envelope, + Cover, or Wrapper. To this rule there will be no exception.</p> + <hr class="full" /> + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Punch, or the London Charivari, Vol. +103, September 3, 1892, by Various + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PUNCH *** + +***** This file should be named 15166-h.htm or 15166-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/1/5/1/6/15166/ + +Produced by Malcolm Farmer, William Flis, and the PG Online +Distributed Proofreading Team. + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Punch, or the London Charivari, Vol. 103, September 3, 1892 + +Author: Various + +Release Date: February 25, 2005 [EBook #15166] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PUNCH *** + + + + +Produced by Malcolm Farmer, William Flis, and the PG Online +Distributed Proofreading Team. + + + + + +PUNCH, + +OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. + +VOL. 103. + + + +September 3, 1892. + + + + +[Illustration: HAPPY THOUGHT. + +_Obliging Country Butcher_. "LET ME CUT IT INTO CUTLETS FOR YOU, +MA'AM,--LEAVING JUST ENOUGH BONE FOR YOU TO HOLD 'EM BY, WHILE YOU'RE +EATING 'EM!"] + + * * * * * + +NOT GOING AWAY FOR THE HOLIDAYS. + +_Cookson Gaze, Q.C._ Because MARIA votes Eastbourne vulgar, and the +girls (sorry now I sent them to that finishing-school at Clapham) +laugh so consumedly whenever I open my mouth to address a native if we +go to Trouville or Dinard. + +_C. Jumper_. Because the Governor thinks three days in the year enough +for anybody. + +_Eastend Dr._ Because that fiver will just give little SALLY the +breath of sea-air she wants, and she'll never make a good cure unless +she has it. + +_Reg. Rake_. Because wife says she shall certainly accompany me. + +_Barmaid_. Because I've just been ill for a fortnight from overwork, +and the Company say they can't give any more leave. + +_Eastend Clergyman_ (_of any church._) Because there are hundreds who +want it more than I do, and I must help them to get a change first. + +_Major Hornblower_. Because MACCRACSHOTT (the only man who has asked +me) was in the smoking-room the night I was fool enough to tell that +Snipe and Rhinoceros Story of PEYTON's in the first person. + +_Quiverful_. Because there's another pair. + + * * * * * + +EPITAPH ON AN OLD CRICKETER'S TOMBSTONE.--"Out at 70." + + * * * * * + +MUSICAL NOTES. + +_Popping a Question._--The _Daily News_, in its last week's "Music and +Musicians," informs us that "Mr. CHAPPELL has now definitely decided +that the season of Monday Popular Concerts shall this year commence +on a Tuesday." Sure then it must be Mister O'CHAPPELL, the CHAPPELL +by the hill-side, who arranges to have his first "Monday Pop" on a +Tuesday? If he be going out shooting on his own native heath, his name +O'CHAPPELL, then there's no reason why he shouldn't have his first pop +on a Tuesday, only it couldn't be his Monday Pop, could it now? Or if +he drinks _Mr. P.'s_ health in Pommery '80 (_grand vin!_), or let's +say Poppery '80, he could do so on a Tuesday, only it would no longer +be the "Monday Pop." That's all. Sure 'tis mighty confusing and upsets +the week entirely. If Tuesday is to have all the Pop, what's to become +of Monday? For further particulars inquire at the Pop-shop, Bond +Street. + +The next great Musical Event is at the Gloucester Festival--it is +Dr. HUBERT PARRY "on the Job." This, though the work of a thoroughly +English Composer, may yet be considered as an "_Article de Parry_." + + * * * * * + +"MARS IN OPPOSITION."--"Mother says I mustn't." + + * * * * * + +THIS PICTURE AND THAT. + +(_EXTRACTS FROM THE DIARY OF A LOVER OF THE BEAUTIFUL._) + +_First Extract_.--Really an excellent notion to buy an estate, instead +of picking up what Mr. RUDYARD KIPLING calls a "smeared thing." Got +one, too, pretty cheap. Twenty miles from a railway station, but so +much the better. RUSKIN hates railway stations, and so do I. Never can +make them look picturesque. The Agent tells me my place is famous for +its sunsets; also good moonlight effects on occasions. Pretty village, +too, in the background. Altogether, most satisfactory. After all, +Nature is much better than Art. + +_Second Extract_.--Dullerton-on-the-Slush is a charming spot, but +it has its drawbacks. Pretty, but damp. Fog interferes a good deal +with the sunsets, and hides the moon at the wrong moment. Village +deliciously out of repair. But tenants unreasonable. Offered to put up +some red brick roofs for them, which would have looked charming, but +they insist upon having slates. Wish they would consent to having +a few cows in the fields, but they say they prefer pigstyes. Have +consulted a builder and a gardener, and they think that they could +"run up" a stye between them, and cover it over with shrubs. Tenants +object. They say the pigs would not like it, and might eat the shrubs +with fatal results. All this annoying, but still the view from my +dining-room window charming. It reminds me not a little of CONSTABLE, +LINNELL, not to say Old CROME. + +_Third Extract_.--Further troubles. Tenants are really very +disagreeable, and they have no feeling for Art. They have cut down +a lot of ornamental trees, and they won't grow the right sort of +crops,--I mean from a picturesque point of view. As agriculturists +they may be all right, but that's not my point. I did not buy the +estate to try how "roots" would thrive. Then they will burn weeds, +and hang out clothes to dry--clothes without any regard to contrast +of colour. Eyesores meet me everywhere. I am really not sure whether I +acted wisely in trusting to a House-agent instead of a Picture-dealer. +"Pictures by Nature" are not as reliable as they should be. + +_Fourth Extract_.--This is really too bad! A perambulating Circus +has pitched its tent on the Village Green! When I say tent, I make a +mistake; it is a beastly ugly iron thing, that looks simply hideous, +and from the durable stoutness of its construction, it evidently is +going to be a fixture for some time. My tenants support the Circus +people, and my Agent tells me, that if I interfere, my life will be +made a burden to me. It appears my tenants are "a very unruly lot when +they are irritated." Pleasant! + +_Fifth Extract_.--The Circus won't go. And now I find I can't get any +of my rents. My agent tells me, that my tenants never would settle +with their last landlord. Besides, they expect me to pay for the +damage done to their dwellings by the floods. They say it was my +fault, because I would put up a bank and plantation in my back garden. +Only light in the general gloom is, the prospect my Agent holds out +to me of getting rid of the property for me to another lover of the +picturesque. Scarcely fair; but after all, or rather before all, must +take care of Number One. + +_Last Extract_.--Hurray! Sold my estate to another fellow. However, on +looking over my accounts, I fancy I should have found it cheaper if, +in the first instance, I had bought a chromo lithograph! + + * * * * * + +EPITAPH.--An Alpining Traveller sends us, on the "Baer" Hotel lately +destroyed at Grindelwald, the following adapted and reversified +quotation:-- + + "Good-bye to the Baer-- + And it's moaning" we are! + + * * * * * + +[Illustration: "SUMMER VOLUPTAS." + +_Toby_ (_sings_). "MY BARQUE IS ON THE SEA!"] + + * * * * * + +SONGS OUT OF SEASON. + +NO. I.--DISORGANISED. + + Still in London now you'll find me, + Still detained against my will; + And I wish, distinctly, mind me, + To accentuate the "_still_;" + It's a sort of consolation, + As I sit, and fume, and frown, + That the greatest botheration + Of my life is out of town. + + + He who used to grind "_She Wore a + Wreath of Roses_" every day, + And "Selections from _Dinorah_," + And--"_Ta-ra-ra-Boom-de-ay_." + With his execrable smiling, + And exasperating din, + Must, I needs infer, be riling + Some one else with grind and grin. + + He who seemed, in fact, delighted, + And a kiss--the fiend!--would blow, + When I got a bit excited, + And exclaimed "_Al Diavolo_!" + Who, with unabashed assurance, + Only beamed the more, and kissed, + If, incensed beyond endurance, + In his face I shook my fist. + + He has earned his little outing, + This excruciating cove, + And his instrument is flouting + Bath, or Scarborough, or Hove. + For the moment I can get a + Peaceful interim, and free-- + But he cherishes vendetta, + This Italian count, to me. + + Yes! Perhaps, indeed, 'twere kinder, + Had he ne'er relaxed his track; + He'll return, that grinning grinder, + Reinvigorated, back! + Then, as I remarked before, a + Spell of doom for me remains, + With "Selections from _Dinorah_," + And his other worse refrains. + + * * * * * + +WHY I DON'T GO OUT OF TOWN, FOR THE AUTUMN?--Because I've been pretty +well everywhere, but always _quite_ well in London. + + * * * * * + +[Illustration: BRIC A BRAC. + +_Lady Croesus_. "OH, WHAT A SWEET TABLE! WHERE DID YOU GET IT, MY +DEAR? OH, I SEE HERE'S THE MAN'S CARD." (_Spelling the label._) +"'TABLE--LOUIS QUINZE.' LOUIS QUINZEY! WHAT A HORRID NAME! AND WHY +HASN'T HE PUT HIS ADDRESS?"] + + * * * * * + +THE GERMAN WATERS. + + A promenade with tongues alive + That every phrase of OLLENDORFF use; + And "_Luther's Hymn_" at half-past five + To drag you from the arms of Morpheus; + Fat Germans in their awful "Fracks," + Pale Frenchmen, too, a bit _decolletes_, + And dapper Britons with attacks + Of livers and digestions faulty. + + A garden fair with "Quellen" foul-- + _Ach, Himmel_! How they taste those "Quellen"! + Then rolls and coffee, next a prowl + Among the shops with JANE or ELLEN; + The mid-day meal at _table d'hote_, + All windows closed--a climate hellish!-- + With dishes too crackjaw to quote, + And sometimes difficult to relish. + + An afternoon of drowsy drives-- + How these poor foreigners love driving + To places where, when one arrives, + There's nought for which it's worth arriving!-- + A "Belvedere"--like Primrose Hill, + A "Gartenhaus," tobacco-scented; + Yet there they smoke, and moon, and swill, + Quite adipose, and self-contented. + + A "Kursaal," very large, and fine; + A Theatre, small, and shabby-splendid; + More beer, more music, ditto wine + (This latter can be much commended). + The Military (each salutes!) + With HANNCHEN on their arm or MARIE; + I wonder where they get those boots-- + I mean, of course, the Military. + + Lawn-Tennis and an "English Club," + Frequented now by Lords and Princes, + Where every snobling likes to rub + His elbows with a Peer, who winces; + The tittle-tattle of the cliques, + Some half-proposals for our daughters-- + Such is the life that makes for weeks + A fortune--for the German Waters! + + * * * * * + +CHOOSING HIS WORDS. + +(_MADE IN GERMANY._) + +According to the _Hochliche Zeitung_, His Imperial Majesty said that +although the sky was apparently cloudless, the atmosphere might be +charged with electricity. He knew what that electricity denoted. There +were thunderbolts in the clouds and thunderbolts on earth. Those +on earth meant war and invasion. He warned those who threatened the +Fatherland, that there were a million of swords ready to spring forth +from a million of scabbards. It was well enough to be neighbourly +when those who lived in your vicinity were benevolently inclined. But +when they showed a disposition to be offensive, then it was necessary +to sharpen your swords and keep your power dry. They had already +conquered France, and were not afraid of Russia. Besides, the Army +contained young soldiers who would be the better for a real campaign. +He himself had no objection to visiting Paris and St. Petersburg, as +a German Emperor should--at the head of a German Army. Still he might +again remark, it was splendid weather, he saw nothing but blue sky. + +[Illustration: Nose Everything.] + +According to the _Nichtgeboren Zeitung_, His Imperial Majesty said +that, although the sky was apparently cloudless, he recognised dangers +a-head. He was willing to put himself forward as the Leader of the +toilers. It was their duty to secure the best possible constitution, +and then to force that constitution upon all neighbouring people, if +needs be, at the point of the bayonet. He was not an alarmist, and +said exactly what he meant. He had no wish to beat about the bush. War +was the Hand-servant of Peace, and the sooner that servant came back +the better. He did not wish to threaten, but he told Russia and France +that Germany was ready to begin, when and where they chose to meet +him. But he might again remark it was splendid weather, and he saw +nothing but blue sky. + +_Authorised Version_ (_all others declared to be misleading and +inaccurate_).--His Imperial Majesty merely observed that it was a fine +day. + + * * * * * + +ON BOARD A YACHT.--The conversation at lunch-time had turned on recent +publications. A learned Theban from Oxford inquired of the Skipper, +if he had seen the "_Rig-Veda_." "What sort of Rig's that?" asked the +Skipper, a bit puzzled. But the Oxonian wisely declined a rigmarole +explanation, and told him that all further inquiries must be made to +Professor MAX MUeLLER. + + * * * * * + +FEELING THEIR WAY. + +(_A STUDY IN THE ART OF GENTEEL CONVERSATION._) + + SCENE--_The Drawing-room of a Margate Hotel. Time--evening. + Mrs. ARDLEIGH (of Balham), and Mrs. ALLBUTT (of + Brondesbury), are discovered in the midst of a conversation, + in which each is anxious both to impress the other, and + ascertain how far she is a person to be cultivated. At + present, they have not got beyond the discovery of a common + bond in Cookery._ + +_Mrs. Allbutt._ You have the yolks of two eggs, I must tell you; +squeeze the juice of half a lemon into it, and, when you boil the +butter in the pan, make a paste of it with _dry_ flour. + +_Mrs. Ardleigh._ It sounds delicious--but you never can trust a Cook +to carry out instructions exactly. + +_Mrs. All._ I never _do_. Whenever I want to have anything specially +nice for my husband, I make a point of seeing to it myself. He +appreciates it. Now _some_ men, if you cook for them, never notice +whether it's you or the Cook. My husband _does_. + +_Mrs. Ard._ I wonder how you find time to do it. I'm sure _I_ should +never-- + +_Mrs. All._ Oh, it takes time, of course--but what does that matter +when you've nothing to do? Did I mention just a small pinch of Cayenne +pepper?--because that's a _great_ improvement! + +_Mrs. Ard._ I tell you what I like Cayenne pepper with, better than +anything--and that's eggs. + +_Mrs. All._ (_with elegant languor_). I hardly ever eat an egg. +Oysters, now, I'm _very_ fond of--_fried_, that is. + +_Mrs. Ard._ They're very nice done in the real shells. Or on scollops. +We have silver--or rather--(_with a magnanimous impulse to tone down +her splendour_), silver-plated ones. + +_Mrs. All._ How funny--so have we! (_Both women feel an increase of +liking for one another._) I like them cooked in milk, too. + + [_The first barrier being satisfactorily passed, they proceed, + as usual, to the subject of ailments._ + +_Mrs. Ard._ My doctor _does_ do me good, I must say--he never lets me +get ill. He just sees your liver's all right, and then he feeds you +up. + +_Mrs. All._ That's like _my_ doctor; he always tells me, if he didn't +keep on constantly building me up, I should go all to pieces in no +time. That's how I come to be here. I always run down at the end of +every Season. + +_Mrs. Ard._ (_feeling that Mrs. ALLBUTT can't be "anybody very +particular" after all_). What--to Margate? Fancy! Don't you find you +get tired of it? I should. + +_Mrs. All._ (_with dignity_). I didn't say I always went to Margate. +On the contrary I have never been here before, and shouldn't be here +now, if my doctor hadn't told me it was my only chance. + +_Mrs. Ard._ (_reassured_). I only came down here on my little girl's +account. One of those nasty croopy coughs, you know, and hoops with +it. But she's almost well already. I will say it's a wonderful air. +Still, the worst of Margate is, one isn't likely to meet a soul one +knows! + +_Mrs. All._ Well, that's the charm of it--to me. One has enough of +that during the Season. + +_Mrs. Ard._ (_recognising the superiority of this view_). Indeed one +has. What a whirl it has been to be sure! + +[Illustration: "Dear, dear! _not_ a county family!"] + +_Mrs. All._ The Season? Why, I never remember one with so little +doing. Most of the best houses closed--hardly a single really smart +party--one or two weddings--and that's positively all! + +_Mrs. Ard._ (_slightly crushed, in spite of a conviction +that--socially speaking--Balham has been rather more brilliant than +usual this year._) Yes, that's very true. I suppose the Elections have +put a stop to most things? + +_Mrs. All._ There never was much going on. _I_ should rather have said +it was Marlborough House being shut up that made everything so dull +from the first. + +_Mrs. Ard._ Ah, that _does_ make such a difference, doesn't it? +(_She feels she must make an effort to recover lost ground._) I fully +expected to be at Homburg this year. + +_Mrs. All._ Then you would have met Lady NEURALINE MENTHOL She _was_ +ordered there, I happen to know. + +_Mrs. Ard._ Really, you don't say so? Lady NEURALINE! Well, that's the +first _I've_ heard of it. (_It is also the first time she has heard of +HER, but she trusts to be spared so humiliating an admission._) + +_Mrs. All._ It's a fact, I can assure you. You know her, perhaps? + +_Mrs. Ard._ (_who would dearly like to say she does, if she only +dared_). Well, I can hardly say I exactly _know_ her. I know _of_ her. +I've met her about, and so on. (_She tells herself this is quite as +likely to be true as not._) + +_Mrs. All._ (_who, of course, does not know Lady NEURALINE either_). +Ah, she is a most delightful person--requires _knowing_, don't you +know. + +_Mrs. Ard._ So many in her position do, don't they? (_So far as she +is concerned--they ALL do._) You'd think it was haughtiness--but it's +really only _manner_. + +_Mrs. All._ (_feeling that she can go ahead with safety now_). I have +never found anything of _that_ sort in Lady NEURALINE myself (_which +is perfectly true_). She's rather odd and flighty, but _quite_ a +dear. By the way, _how_ sad it is about those poor dear CHUTNEYS--the +Countess, don't you know! + +_Mrs. Ard._ Ah (_as if she knew all the rest of the family_), I don't +know _her_ at all. + +_Mrs. All._ Such a sweet woman--but the trouble she's had with her +eldest boy, Lord MANGO! He married quite beneath him, you know, some +girl from the provinces--not a county-family girl even. + +_Mrs. Ard._ (_shocked_). Dear, dear! _not_ a county family! + +_Mrs. All._ No; somebody quite common--I forget the name, but it was +either GHERKIN or ONION, or something of that sort. I was told they +had been in Chili a good while. Poor MANGO never had much taste, or +he would never have got mixed up with such a set. Anyway, he's got +himself into a terrible pickle. I hear Capsicums is actually to be +sold to pay his debts. + +_Mrs. Ard._ You don't say so! Capsicums! Gracious! + +_Mrs. All._ Yes, _isn't_ it a pity! Such a lovely old place as it +was, too--_the_ most comfortable house to stay at in all England; so +beautifully _warm_! But it's dreadful to think of how the aristocracy +are taking to marry out of their own set. Look at the Duke of +DRAGNET--married a Miss DUCKWEED--goodness only knows where he picked +her up! but he got entangled somehow, and now his people are trying to +get rid of her. I see so many of these cases. Well, I'm afraid I must +wish you good evening--it's my time for retiring. (_Patronisingly._) +I've quite enjoyed this conversation--such a pleasure in a place like +this to come across a congenial companion! + +_Mrs. Ard._ (_fluttered and flattered_). I'm sure you're exceedingly +kind to say so, and I can say the same for myself. I hope we may +become better acquainted. (_To herself, after Mrs. ALLBUTT has +departed._) I've quite taken to that woman--she's so thoroughly the +lady, and moves in very high society, too. You can tell that from +the way she talks. What's that paper oil the table? (_She picks up +a journal in a coloured wrapper.) Society Snippets, the Organ of the +Upper Ten. One Penny._ The very thing I wanted. It's such a comfort +to know who's who. (_She opens it and reads sundry paragraphs headed +"Through the Keyhole."_) Now how funny this is! Here's the very same +thing about the dulness of the Season that she said. That shows she +must be really in it. And a note about Lady NEURALINE being about to +recruit at Homburg. And another about her reputation for eccentricity, +and her "sweetness to the select few privileged to be her intimates." +And here's all about Lord MANGO, and what a pleasant house Capsicums +is, and his marriage, and the Duke of DRAGNET's too. Her information +was very correct, I must say! (_A light begins to break in upon her._) +I wonder whether--but there--people of her sort wouldn't require to +read the papers for such things. + + [_Here the door opens, and Mrs. ALLBUTT appears, in some + embarrassment._ + +_Mrs. All._ (_scrutinising the tables_). Oh, it's nothing. I thought +I'd left something of mine here; it was only a paper--I see I was +mistaken, don't trouble. + +_Mrs. Ard._ (_producing Society Snippets_). I expect it will be this. +(Mrs. ALLBUTT's face _reveals her ownership_.) I took it up, not +knowing it was yours. (_Meaningly._) It has some highly interesting +information, I see. + +_Mrs. All._ (_slightly demoralised_). Oh, has it? I--I've not had time +to glance at it yet. Pray don't let me deprive you of it. I dare say +there's very little in it I don't know already. + +_Mrs. Ard._ So I should have thought. (_To herself, after Mrs. +ALLBUTT has retired in disorder._) Fancy that woman trying to take me +in like that, and no more in Society than I am--if so much! However, +I've found her out before going too far--luckily. And I've a good mind +to take in this _Society Snippets_ myself--it certainly does improve +one's conversation. She won't have it _all_ her own way _next_ time! + + * * * * * + +POPULAR SONGS RE-SUNG. + +NO. IX.--"IN THE MORNING." + +The Music-hall Muse, if not exactly impeccably moral, is, at least, +good at moralising. Not only to topers, Totties, larky Benedicts and +spreeish servant-maids, is there pregnant meaning in the warning words +"But oh! what a difference in the morning!!!" As may thus--_pace_ +"NORTON ATKINS" and "FELIX MCGLENNON"--be made manifest:-- + +[Illustration: "He curses speculation in the morning!"] + +AIR--"_IN THE MORNING!_" + + I'd sing of the singular triumphs we see, + At night, at night! + In Politics, Pleasure, Love, Art, L.S.D., + At night, at night! + The "Johnnies" of Sport and the "Oof-birds" of Cash, + The Statesmen who shine, and the Beauties who mash, + Are in champagny spirits and cut quite a dash, + At night, at night! + But oh! don't their hearts ache, + In the morning? + Then cometh disillusion and self-scorning. + Things look their natural size + Unto hot awaking eyes, + For no gingerbread is gilded, + In the morning! + + A Premier potent may perorate free, + At night, at night! + And pretty Primrosers will shout and agree, + At night, at night! + He'll say those brave Orangemen Home Rule will quash, + He'll hint that raised Tariffs trade rivals must smash, + And his eloquence sounds neither rabid nor rash, + At night, at night! + But oh! what a difference + In the morning! + He vows he merely meant a friendly warning, + But fuss and fad 'twill boom. + And his colleagues growl with gloom + O'er the "_Times_" upon their tables, + In the morning! + + Observe what the Specials call "News of the Day" + At night, at night! + The Dalziel Telegrams startle, and slay, + At night, at night! + There's war in the East, or the CZAR is laid low, + Financiers have failed--Fifty Millions or so!-- + Or they've found Jack the Ripper in far Jericho, + At night, at night! + But oh, what a difference + In the morning! + Those Latest Wires were lies, small facts adorning. + "It is not as we stated, + For the cable's mutilated," + And "we hear 'tis contradicted" + In the morning! + + Regard the young Clerk who's been out for the day, + At night, at night! + First to the Derby, and then to the play, + At night, at night! + He "spotted a winner" at twenty to one, + His winnings will far more than pay for his fun; + He's happy, free-handed, and "sure as a gun," + At night, at night! + But oh, what a difference + In the morning! + The bookie bolts, his "gaffer" gives him warning, + He's not worth half-a-dollar, + His prospect's "out of collar," + And he curses speculation + In the morning! + + Behold the young playwright who hears his own piece, + At night, at night! + He thinks that (ironic) applause will ne'er cease, + At night, at night! + His "little one-act thing" is stodgy and slow, + But the Pit is good-natured, the youth's in a glow, + And he thinks--with some "cuts"--it will be "a great go," + At night, at night! + But oh, what a difference + In the morning! + The critics call the thing "an awful warning," + They "guy," and sneer, and scoff, + And his bantling's taken off, + "To make room for some old farce, Sir!" + In the morning! + + * * * * * + +TAKING THE OAT-CAKE. + +DEAR MR. PUNCH,--I was very much interested in the statement I saw +in the papers the other day, that the best preservatives of a Lady's +complexion are--Oatmeal and Oranges! I at once began the diet, but +have not succeeded very well at present. Porridge, even with milk and +cream, and plenty of sugar, is such _commonplace_ stuff, and one can't +really be expected to eat oatmeal _raw_, though Scotch gamekeepers are +said to do so. But then they are out in the open air all day, and I am +not. Oranges are nice enough--but oh, _Mr. Punch_, what a lot of them +one has to take before one feels as if one had had a meal! As I have +stopped all other food, I am becoming rather weak. My complexion is, +I think, improved--at all events, it is far less red or pink than it +used to be--but I really haven't the strength to go out of doors to +show it off. Even writing is a burden--so I will close, hoping that my +experiences may benefit others who like to try the regimen. + +LYDIA LANGUISH. + +P.S.--My Doctor has just stopped the diet! + + +DEAR SIR,--We are sure that the Oatmeal-and-Orange prescription is an +invaluable one for the complexion. We recently tried it on a Street +Arab, and after one or two doses--accompanied by the employment of +soap and water--he developed such a beautiful pink-and-white skin, +that his parents failed to recognise him. This was unfortunate in one +way, as he has now become chargeable on the rates. Talking of rates, +we may mention that we supply finest Midlothian Campaign Oatmeal at a +more reasonable figure than any other firm in the trade. Price-list on +application. + +Yours obediently, McCANNY & Co. + +_Edinburgh._ + + +SIR,--I am not less than fifty years' old, and marked with small-pox, +and therefore I think that Oatmeal and Oranges would be sure to do my +complexion good. As mine is perhaps a rather unusual case, I am trying +the remedy in a peculiarly thorough way. I have an Oatmeal-bath twice +a day, during which I suck six oranges. My breakfast consists of +porridge and marmalade. I have engaged a policeman to knock at my +front door three times every night, to wake me. I then sit up in bed +and consume oat-cakes soaked in orange-juice. I also dress in yellow, +and I have written to Belfast to ask if I can be admitted to an Orange +Society there, but hitherto I have received no reply. You will, I +think, agree with me that I am giving the new treatment a fair trial. +Yours truly, + +TABITHA NUPKINS. + + * * * * * + +[Illustration: UNLUCKY COMPLIMENTS. + +_Shy but Susceptible Youth_. "ER--_COULD_ YOU TELL ME WHO THAT YOUNG +LADY IS--SKETCHING?" + +_Affable Stranger_. "SHE HAS THE MISFORTUNE TO BE MY WIFE!" + +_Shy but Susceptible One_ (_desperately anxious to please, and losing +all presence of mind_). "OH--THE MISFORTUNE'S ENTIRELY _YOURS_, I'M +_SURE_!"] + + * * * * * + +THE BAMSGATE SANDS. + + It's hey for the sands, for the jolly Ramsgate Sands, + Where the children shout and tumble, spade and bucket in their + hands. + Where sandy castles rise in scores, I trow a man might float + A fleet of six-inch pleasure-skiffs on many a deep-dug moat. + Where, while the banjos discord make, the German bands make noise, + And nursemaids by the hundred shepherd flocks of girls and boys. + Where the boys tuck up their trousers, and the girls tuck up their + frocks, + A paddling tribe who scorn their shoes and customary socks. + + Ye loud-voiced men of cocoa-nuts, what is it that you say? + "Come try yer luck, roll, bowl, or pitch; the lydies stand' + alf-way." + One youth I saw who took his stand, a clerk of pith was he, + He shut one eye and aimed with care, then let the ball fly free. + Twice, thrice, nay, thirty times he flung, his BETSY standing by, + And scornfully advising him to close his other eye. + Yet, when at last he had to own he could not do the trick, + No solitary cocoa-nut had toppled from its stick. + + Papa is in his glory here, that proud and happy man, + But in spite of all his efforts, he can't get coloured tan. + Yet every week-day morning, from ten o'clock till one, + He turns that British face of his unflinching to the sun. + Mamma she sits beside him; I overheard her say, + "Lor, Pa, you'll soon be brown as brown, you're not so red to-day." + But wives can't flatter tints away, and when he leaves the place, + I'd guarantee to light my pipe at Pa's tomato face. + + A front-row stall I quick secured, a green and gaudy bench, + And paid my humble penny to a very buxom wench. + The tide was running out amain, and slowly, bit by bit, + She moved her back seats forward till she left me in the pit. + Stout Mr. BIGGS, the hair-dresser, the Bond-Street mould of form, + Sat next me with his family, and seemed to find it warm; + And, while admiring Mrs. B. hung on her BIGGS's lips. + He favoured me, as is his wont, with all the sporting tips. + + But the most delightful object I saw upon that shore + Was a ruddy-faced and chubby-legged philosopher of four. + Though his sisters capered round him, the sage refused to budge, + He continued quietly digging just as solemn as a judge; + And if he fell, as men may fall, he spurned their proffered aid, + But lay awhile and pondered, while he clutched his wooden spade; + Then, having thought some problem out, and found that life was vain, + He slowly raised his three-foot form, and set to work again. + + And so the round of pleasure goes; a man could scarce believe + How swift the merry hours spin by from dewy morn to eve. + The goat-carts never want for fares fresh from their nurses' arms, + All day the patient donkeys bear some maid's or matron's charms. + The haughty ones may carp and sneer, we know their sorry style, + But we who revel on this shore can hear them with a smile. + We may be vulgar; what's the odds? We're cottage-folk, not "Grands," + And our simple pleasures please us on the jolly Ramsgate Sands. + + * * * * * + +DRURIOLANUS'S NEXT.--_The Prodigal Daughter_ is to be produced, +when she's of proper age to come out, at Drury Lane. Who gave her +that name? Is it her "_Pettitt nom_," or was it her Godfather, Sir +DRURIOLANUS LE GRAND, or was it the joint effort of GRAND _et_ +PETTITT, so as to satisfy all comers Great and Small? _The Prodigal +Son_ has already served as the title of an Opera directly founded on +the Scriptural parable of the Prodigal, and has recently been used as +the title of the now famous _ballet d'action_. There was also a _Pere +Prodigue_--which the English schoolboy thought was French for an +uncommonly big Marie Louise specimen; so there is justification and +authority for bringing this new member of _The Prodigal_ family before +the Public. Having once started, there maybe no end to the family +of Prodigals. There will follow--_The Prodigal Aunt_, _The Prodigal +Uncle_, _The Prodigal Second Cousin by first Husband's Marriage_, and +so on, _ad infinitum_. + + * * * * * + +[Illustration: "THE LITTLE VULGAR BOY." + +MASTER LABBY (_to the Butler_). "WON'T GIVE ME A SITUATION, WON'T YER? +THEN I'LL BREAK YER WINDOWS! YA-AH!!"] + + * * * * * + +THE LAND OF THE (RATHER TOO) FREE. + + SCENE--_The Landing-Stage of an English Port._ + +_Custom-House Officer_ (_through an interpreter_). Do you speak +English? + +_Emigrant_ (_ditto_). No. + +_Cust.-H. Off._ (_as before_). Have you any money? + +_Emi._ (_ditto_). Not a kopeck. + +_Cust.-H. Off._ Where do you come from? + +_Emi._ Polish Russia. + +_Cust.-H. Off._ Have you any family? + +_Emi._ A sick wife and eight sick children. + +_Cust.-H. Off._ Do any of you know a trade? + +_Emi._ None of us. + +_Cust.-H. Off._ Are you well enough to work? + +_Emi._ No. + +_Cust.-H. Off._ Have you any friends in England? + +_Emi._ Don't know a soul. + +_Cust.-H. Off._ Have you any luggage? + +_Emi._ Only the Cholera! + + + * * * * * + +A COMPENDIOUSLY GRAMMATICAL TREE.--A Yew Tree. First it may be a 'Igh +Tree, but it is a Yew Tree. It is either a He Tree or a She Tree. +If small, it represents the first person plural by being a "Wee +Tree:" the second person plural is the Manager and Manageress of the +Haymarket, "Ye Trees;" and the third person plural would be expressed +by a Devonshire Gardener indicating this talented couple as "They +Trees." + + * * * * * + +TEE, TEE, ONLY TEE! + +(_SONG OF THE GOLF ENTHUSIAST. AFTER THOMAS MOORE_.) + +AIR--"_Thee, thee, only thee_." + +[Illustration] + + The dawn of morn, the daylight's sinking, + Shall find me on the Links, and thinking + Of Tee, Tee, only Tee! + When rivals meet upon the ground, + The Putting-green's a realm enchanted, + Nay, in Society's giddy round + My soul, (like Tooting's thralls) is haunted + By Tee, Tee, only Tee!' + + For that at early morn I waken, + And swiftly bolt my eggs and bacon, + For Tee, Tee, only Tee! + I'm game to start all in the dark + To the Links hurrying--resting never. + The Caddie yawns, but, like a lark, + I halt not, heed not, hastening ever + To Tee, Tee, only Tee! + + Of chilly fog I am no funker, + I'll brave the very biggest bunker + For Tee, Tee, only Tee! + A spell that nought on earth can break + Holds me. Golf's charms can ne'er be _spoken_; + But late I'll sleep, and early wake, + Of loyalty be this my token, + To Tee, Tee, only Tee! + + * * * * * + +INNS AND OUTS. + +NO. II.--THE HEAD-WETTER. + +I entitle him as self-pronounced. If "Mr." is the Grand-Hotel Jupiter, +the Head-Waiter is its Mercury. Nothing modern is so versatile as +the Head-Waiter. The first thing about the Head-Waiter is his cigars. +These are covered with tinsel and colours: very gay--almost as gay as +the Head-Waiter. They are of unpronounceable and unknown brands. They +vary in price and size, but agree in flavour--liquorice, tempered by +ink. Like the fabled fruit, they crumble to ashes in your mouth. If +you are only a bird of passage, you will often find a box or so in +your room. "Great opportunity--veritable Pestarenas of Nockudaun--one +whole box for a sovereign English," the Head-Waiter assures you. The +memory of that man is astounding; he remembers all the numbers, all +the wines, all the names, and all the Lady's-maids. For he is a bit +of a _Leporello_, is the Head-Waiter. + +[Illustration: "One whole box for a sovereign English."] + +After dinner, where he takes a dozen orders, makes a dozen +recommendations, and tells a dozen lies at once, you may see him +philandering by the Lake with MARY ANN, JEANETTE, and KLARA, all +jealous, and all adoring, teaching each the language of the other, and +all the art of love. I have often envied him. The Head-Waiter's life +is a "happy one." He is ubiquitous; Egypt, The Riviera, Switzerland, +and Italy, see him by turns; in each he has a white waistcoat, +of which Mr. CHAMBERLAIN might be proud, infinite occupation, and +infinite diversion; his nimbleness, his light-heartedness, his +languages, and his cigars, are inexhaustible. + +How we besiege him in the morning! "Luncheon, ADOLF, for a party +of seven, in a basket--a _nice_ basket, you know--and don't forget +the corkscrew." "Yes, yes, I know--and you take the bottle-bier--it +is much better nor the warne. Ha! Ha!" What a laugh!--a roguish, +child-like merriment of a Greek-godlike character--or want of it. +Old Ladies talk to him quite trustingly at first sight; it's "ADOLF, +_have_ you such a thing as a bottle of gum--_gummi_, gum, you +understand"; or, "_Could_ you get me another cushion"? He can, and +does. As for the children, they love him; he romps with them, and does +conjuring tricks, and warbles innumerable songs. That man gets through +more in one day than the Prime Minister of England--and, between you +and me, I believe he is fully as capable--and yet he finds time to +write a letter to his old mother at Hamburg--I have seen him do it. +Perhaps it was about the cigars! The only people who hate ADOLF are +the Under-Waiters; he rules them with a rod of iron, marshalling their +heated battalions at _table d'hote_, and plundering them of their +sweethearts; if he breaks anything (hearts included), it is they who +have to pay. It is ADOLF's only weakness--he is a bully to underlings +of his own trade. But then he has been an Under-Waiter once himself, +and suffering brutalises; however, he is outside the sphere of +morality, and I could pardon him almost anything. + +From time to time his fascinations induce an Englishman or +Englishwoman to take this treasure home as a servant. But ADOLF in +livery, and ADOLF with his magic order-book, are two very different +people. Little things are missing; he becomes quarrelsome; the +gipsy-spirit returns--and he is off again, blithe as ever, on his +travels. "London very naice," he says, as you buy that infernal +Pestarena; "Porebier, very naise; 'Ampton Court, very naise; I know +dem, hein? But, is no sunshine, no air, no gaiety." And ADOLF cannot +exist without sunshine, air, and gaiety. Also he prefers being his own +master, which, as Head-Waiter, he practically is. + +How insinuating he is about the food, "Some naice fishes? Dey was +laiving dis morning." And then, how accommodating! I was once in the +Grand Hotel during the usual "exceptional season," when it rained +unintermittently for a fortnight; the place was empty; "tristeful," +as ADOLF styled it. The genius played billiards with me every day, and +always won, though I rather fancy myself; and then how mindful he is +of your individual bettings. "I gif you dis place by de window--_to do +you joy_!" he ejaculates. The simple creature, he is constantly trying +to "make you please." + +I always present ADOLF with ten shillings--five on arrival, and five +on departure. This procures me many harmless little privileges; and +when old BROWN calls him an impertinent brute, I know that BROWN and +ten shillings are difficult to part. + +There is nothing ADOLF will not do for you for a sovereign--but I +cannot run to this; and yet this is the impression he has made. + + * * * * * + +[Illustration: A LITTLE VAGUE! + +_Affable Landlady_ (_to her new Artist Lodger_), "AND I SUPPOSE, SIR, +YOU COMES FROM ABROAD!" + +_Foreign Lodger_. "SO! I GOME VROM AUSTRIA." + +_A.L._ "DO YOU HINDEED, SIR? FROM HOSTRIA! AH! HOW THAT'S WHERE THE +HOSTRICHES COMES FROM, I SUPPOSE?!!"] + + * * * * * + +AN OLD AND NEW PEER. + +DEAR MR. PUNCH,--Look here! I've done good service in my time, and +no one likes to see himself deprived of an honoured title, or forced +to take a back seat. I've been trodden under-foot over and over +again--but I've borne it with fortitude, and never, never given way. +Now, what do I hear? That a Gentleman, a Government Whip, for whom I +have the highest esteem and respect, is now to assume the title which, +by right of position, place, time, and prescription, belongs to me, +and _to me only_, I can bear much, but, after so many years of devoted +service, during which, with all my opportunities, I have never once +made any attempt to leave my place to go higher up, or to go lower +down, or, in either case, to go with the tide, I cannot, and, indeed, +will not, yield my title to anyone, however good and useful to his +Party he may have been, but proudly declaring myself as good as any +"Sprig of Nobility," even as this one who cometh up as a Flower, I +beg, protestingly, to remind the world at large that I am "_Nulli +Secundus_," and _de facto et dejure_, + +THE ONLY BATTERSEA PEER. + +P.S.--Spell it with an "i" or "e," it's all one. If my "i" is put out, +and "_he_" has got in instead, that's a mere quibble or quebble. + + * * * * * + +[Illustration: Cowley Lambert.] + +[Illustration: H. Campbell.] + +MEMBERS WE SHALL MISS. + +Our Old Parliamentary Artistic Hand been at it again; looking with +eyesight blurred with sorrow on familiar forms of some Members +stranded at General Election. Dismembered, and, for some time at +least, not to be remembered. COWLEY LAMBERT always been a rover. Went +Midland Circuit for short time, and having made the Circuit, made for +home. Then he accomplished "A Trip to Cashmere and Ladak." Opportunity +now for varying itinerary, and making a "Trip to Ladak and Cashmere." +Must be moving somewhere. Wrote himself down in _Dod_ "a Progressive +Conservative." Has now progressed out of sight of the Chair. This +particular CAMPBELL is neither coming nor going. He's gone. + +PULESTON seems quite pleased to find LLEWELLYN sitting there, all +unconscious of his doom. PULESTON a little astonished himself when +things went bad at Carnarvon. Only short time ago made Constable of +Castle; thought P.C. PULESTON sure to come in at head of poll; but, +"from information received," appears he didn't. + +[Illustration: E.H. Llewellyn.] + +[Illustration: Sir J.H. Puleston.] + +Observe the eye of HAVELOCK-ALLAN on the alert. He cannot see behind +his back, but instinctively knows there is an Irish Member in the +vicinity. His teeth close, his moustache curls, his eyes glare. He +once publicly, in course of debate, sat upon an Irish Member; not +metaphorically, but physically. Irish Member, when he wriggled from +under, appealed to SPEAKER on point of order. SPEAKER ruled proceeding +decidedly out of order. "But I sat on him, TOBY, dear boy," HAVELOCK +said, triumphantly; "and I shall retain the impression to end of my +life." + +[Illustration: THE GRAND OLD GARDENER.] + +[Illustration: Sir H. Havelock-Allan.] + +[Illustration: A.A. Baumann.] + +"So will he," I observed, when HAVELOCK was safe out of hearing. He +doesn't like retorts. + +The sketch of BAUMANN evidently taken at the moment he heard the +announcement of poll at North Salford. Seems to have knocked him +rather of a heap. Was known in House as Cupid's Bowman; a smart able, +useful Member, whom we shall all be glad to see back again. + + * * * * * + +OUR BOOKING-OFFICE. + +[Illustration: A Poppylar Writer in Poppy Land.] + +"'Over the Hills and far away!' follow yours faithfully CLEMENT +SCOTT." This is the full title, and signed advice to the public given +on the frontispiece of his little shilling book published by EGLINTON. +It is dedicated to Sir EDWARD LAWSON--"right thing to do my boy!"--and +appropriately so, as if the Baron's memory runneth not to the +contrary, most if not all the articles in this author's little +holiday-book have appeared at some time or other in the _D.T._, and +do not suffer any D.T.rioration by being bound up together in this +shilling volume. It tells of a visit to Hayling, where he picked up +health, strength, and an aspirate, when he went there ailing; he tells +of Suffolk, where a branch of the Great Punchian Family is settled, +known as The Suffolk Punches; he prattles of _Honeymoon Land_, where +he met the man with seven wives, each of whom had a cat, and to each +cat there was a kit, and to each wife a kit too, it is to be hoped, +in the shape otherwise of a _trousseau_, and of many other pleasant +restful places and refreshing jaunts he tells delightfully. "But of +all the pleasant places in which his lines have fallen, commend me," +quoth the Baron,--"and the lines he has written will send many to +these pleasant places--(But O the Trippers!)--of all these give me the +_Flower Farm at Holy Vale_ and the _Valley of Ferns_." If the reader +cannot go to all the sweet resorts herein mentioned, let him be +induced by the first article to visit _Holy Vale_, and he will find +CLEMENT SCOTT an admirable guide for "the Scilly Season." Of course +our NOT-YET-DUN-SCOTUS hath visited the Cyril-Flower-Farm on the +Norfolk Coast. Advice: Stand not on the money-order of your going, but +go at once, and stop there. As to money, remember your Uncle dwells in +Poppy Land, quoth their true friend, + +THE TRAVELLED BARON DE BOOK-WORMS. + +P.S.--A youthful shootist bought the Poppyland book because he thought +that it would tell him all about where to go popping. Also a bashful +suitor was misled by the title, hoping that in Poppy Land he would +learn how to "Pop--the question." The Learned Author has not said one +word about the "weasels that go pop," which, of course, are natives of +Poppy Land. + + * * * * * + +"THE RIFT WITHIN THE LUTE." + +[Illustration] + + It surely sounds a pretty phrase, + Some poeesy for woe it wins, + Commemorating roundelays + And troubadours and mandolins: + We seem to view some minstrel-boy + Beside his shattered music mute, + The shattered string, the ruined joy-- + The Rift within the Lute. + + How swift the slip from tune to twang! + Sweets bitter grow, as aye they did; + For e'en the Roman poet sang + "_Surgit amari aliquid_." + Our pigmy worries turn us grey; + And sorrows fierce are less acute; + Our hearts are riddled every day + With Rifts within the Lute. + + You envy FORTUNATUS--rich-- + A charming bride--subservient friends. + To rival him were something which + The dream of Avarice transcends. + That charming bride a mother owns + Whom FORTUNATUS brands a brute: + She mars his life's entrancing tones-- + His Rift within the Lute! + + Then, PEREGRINE--he journeys far; + Unshackled, he by toil's routine: + By turns he quaffs a samovar + Or sherbet, as he shifts his scene. + "Strong as a horse!"--ah! there's the string + That snaps asunder--"to recruit." + He wanders, manufacturing + A Rift within his Lute. + + And DULCINEA! What a life! + Adoring crowds, adornments rare + And many fain to call her wife, + And sue her smiles in Belgrave Square. + And yet her Fetch-and-carry swears + He heard her, while he pressed his suit, + Sigh, "Bored to desperation!"--there's + A Rift within that Lute. + + What need more trivial ills to quote, + The freshly-furnished house that shines, + The coxcomb's fashionable coat, + Both brushed and polished "to the nines," + Both yielding to some fatal flaw; + A crack; a fiend who plays the flute; + Both, both examples of the law + Of Rift within the Lute. + + Whate'er the dulcet instrument + We favour, still the lilt will stop; + And with a gorgeous chalice blent + Oft lurks the tiny poisoned drop. + I'm not so spry myself to-night; + I'll try a dose of arrowroot. + You'll own that Indigestion's quite + A Rift in any Lute! + + * * * * * + +"WALKER ART GALLERY."--Show commences this week at Liverpool. _The_ +WALKER was a Genius. But is this show all "Walker," or the genuine +article? Has Mr. J.L. TOOLE, of _Walker, London_, anything to do with +it? No doubt it's quite "'O.K.' WALKER, Liverpool." + + * * * * * + +POLITICAL PRIZE RING RIDDLE.--Why was the win of the Gladstonian Party +at Newcastle like the triumph of a single-fisted pugilist over +his two-handed opponent? Because the victory was achieved with one +"MORLEY." + + * * * * * + +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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