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diff --git a/15166-h/15166-h.htm b/15166-h/15166-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..e899dbd --- /dev/null +++ b/15166-h/15166-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,2279 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Transitional//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-transitional.dtd"> + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml"> +<head> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" + content="text/html; charset=iso-8859-1" /> + + <title>Punch, September 3, 1892.</title> + <style type="text/css"> + /*<![CDATA[*/ + + <!-- + body {margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + p {text-align: justify;} + blockquote {text-align: justify;} + h1,h2,h3,h4,h5,h6 {text-align: center;} + pre {font-size: 0.7em;} + .sc {font-variant: small-caps;} + + hr {text-align: center; width: 50%;} + html>body hr {width: 50%;} + hr.full {width: 100%;} + html>body hr.full {margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 0%; width: 100%;} + + .note, .footnote {margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-size: 0.9em;} + + span.pagenum + {position: absolute; left: 1%; right: 91%; font-size: 8pt; text-indent: 0;} + + .poem + {margin-left:10%; margin-right:10%; margin-bottom: 1em; text-align: left;} + .poem .stanza {margin: 1em 0em 1em 0em;} + .poem p {margin: 0; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + .poem p.i2 {margin-left: 1em;} + .poem p.i4 {margin-left: 2em;} + .poem p.i6 {margin-left: 3em;} + .poem p.i8 {margin-left: 4em;} + .poem p.i10 {margin-left: 5em;} + + .drama {margin-bottom: 1em; text-align: left;} + .drama p {margin: 1em 0em 0em 0em;; padding-left: 2em; text-indent: -2em;} + .drama p.i2 {margin: 0; margin-left: 1em;} + .drama p.i4 {margin: 0; margin-left: 2em;} + + .figure, .figcenter, .figright, .figleft + {padding: 1em; margin: 0; text-align: center; font-size: 0.8em;} + .figure img, .figcenter img, .figright img, .figleft img + {border: none;} + .figure p, .figcenter p, .figright p, .figleft p + {margin: 0; text-indent: 1em;} + .figcenter {margin: auto;} + .figright {float: right;} + .figleft {float: left;} + + p.author {text-align: right;} + --> + /*]]>*/ + </style> +</head> + +<body> + + +<pre> + +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. + + + + + + +</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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