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+The Project Gutenberg eBook, Punch, or the London Charivari, Vol. 103,
+September 17, 1892, by Various, Edited by F. C. Burnand
+
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+
+
+
+Title: Punch, or the London Charivari, Vol. 103, September 17, 1892
+
+Author: Various
+
+Release Date: March 12, 2005 [eBook #15332]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+
+***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI,
+VOL. 103, SEPTEMBER 17, 1892***
+
+
+E-text prepared by Malcolm Farmer, William Flis, and the Project Gutenberg
+Online Distributed Proofreading Team
+
+
+
+Note: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this
+ file which includes the original illustrations.
+ See 15332-h.htm or 15332-h.zip:
+ (http://www.ibiblio.org/gutenberg/1/5/3/3/15332/15332-h/15332-h.htm)
+ or
+ (http://www.ibiblio.org/gutenberg/1/5/3/3/15332/15332-h.zip)
+
+
+
+
+
+PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI
+
+VOL. 103
+
+SEPTEMBER 17, 1892
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+HEARING HIMSELF.
+
+(_MYSTERIOUS MEM. FROM A HAWARDEN NOTE-BOOK._)
+
+Exceedingly kind and flattering of MAX MÜLLER! "I hope there are but
+few here present who have never enjoyed the privilege of listening to
+Mr. GLADSTONE." Ha! ha! He little thought there was _one_ there who
+had _not_ "enjoyed that privilege." Have enjoyed most privileges in
+my time, but never that of "hearing myself as others hear me"--more or
+less. "Unavoidable absence of Mr. GLADSTONE!" Ho! ho! Then my disguise
+_was_ perfect. Get myself up as a Liberal Unionist, with wig and
+eye-glass. Not likely anybody would recognise me in _that_ rig.
+
+Rather enjoyed myself--and my paper, "Phoenician Elements in the
+Homeric Poems." Most seductive title! Such a _popular_ touch about it!
+Think I shall have it printed as a "leaflet" for distribution among
+Workmen's Clubs and Radical Associations. Might conciliate those
+well-meaning but illogical Eight-Hour Men. Wonder if KEIRHARDIE would
+like a copy. What more nicely calculated to cheer the scant leisure of
+Labour?
+
+Funny to hear my own sinuous sentences coming back to me from mouth
+of another. Not quite sure MAX is so "fascinating in his voice, and
+so persuasive in his delivery" as--but no matter. Can't say--as MAX
+did--"I felt myself carried away, and convinced almost against my
+will." Not at all! Wonder what he meant by that? Why "against his
+will"? That's what Liberal Unionists, and other preposterous and
+illogical opponents of mine say in House, when they compliment me on
+my "eloquence," _and then vote against me!_ Absurd! Wish they'd drop
+their compliments and vote straight.
+
+"Small and exotic contribution" to Oriental Congress! Neat description
+of paper running to nearly four columns of _Times_. "Intense sentiment
+of nationality, which led the Greeks of later days to covet the title
+of Autochthones." Wonder if that reminded MAX, or anyone else, of
+_another_ race with "an intense sentiment of nationality," and a
+passionate love of the land from which they sprang. Wonder whether,
+if Nationalists were to call themselves "Auctochthones" instead of
+Home-Rulers, we should get along better? Must consult JUSTIN on this
+point. Should have to teach some of them to _pronounce_ their new
+name, though. "Autochthones," spoken in wrath, with a rich brogue,
+after dinner, would, I should think, beat Phillippopolis, or "Ri'
+l'il, ti' li'l Isl'l" hollow.
+
+_Anax andron_, too, might be useful. Say, as substitute for that
+everlasting G.O.M., of which I admit I'm heartily sick, Lord of Men!
+_Not_ King of Men, of course. LABBY might kick at latter. "Nothing
+can be simpler than the meaning of the two words." Exactly. Must get
+HARCOURT to popularise these. Applied to AGAMEMNON. Why not to "strong
+men" who live _after_ AGAMEMNON? "Evidence from extraneous sources
+of connection between title of _Anax andron_ and great Egyptian
+Empire." Aha! I may yet have to play the _Anax andron_ in Egypt as
+before. Allegory--I mean _Anax andron_ on banks of Nile! Good--and
+not a Malapropism, whatever WOLSELEY may say. "Title of _Anax
+andron_ descendible" (good word, "descendible") "from father to
+son, and accorded in the poems to personages altogether secondary,
+_viz._, EUMELOS and EUPHETES." Wonder what my EUMELOS--HERBERT--will
+say to that!
+
+Enjoyed it much whilst MAX was "mouthing out" (as Mrs. BROWNING
+says) my eulogy of that man of "Phoenician stamp," the "universal
+ODYSSEUS," who expressed the many-sided, the all-accomplished man;
+the _polutropos_, the _polumetis_, the _tlemon_, the _polutlas_, the
+_polumekanos_, the _poikilometis_, the _poluphron_, the _daïphron_,
+the _talasiphron._ (What a peck of p's!) In battle never foiled! In
+council supreme! His oratory like the snow-flakes of the winter
+storm. Superbly representative Phoenician! "But over and above this
+universality of ODYSSEUS in the arts of life, he bears the Phoenician
+stamp in what may be termed his craft." Aha! The "Old Parliamentary
+Hand" of his period plainly. Wonder if MAX thought of _that_!
+Hellas and Phoenicia combined! As a Statesman of classical culture,
+commercial instincts _and_ craft, what a shining success ODYSSEUS
+might have been in these days!
+
+ He went into the Cyclops' cave
+ To see what he could spy out;
+ He slew his oxen, stole his sheep,
+ And then he poked his eye out,
+
+as the ribald doggerelist has it. Sounds a little "predatory,"
+perhaps, as SALISBURY would say. But quite capable of being
+"spiritualised" into a sound Liberal policy, directed against the
+purblind Poluphemos of Property and Privilege.
+
+On the whole, I had a high old time among the Orientalists. But
+when discussion ensued, I longed to throw off my disguise and
+rush, Achilles-like, into the fray. But MAX might have thought that
+inconsistent with my "colossal humanity;" so, very unwillingly, I
+refrained.
+
+ * * * * *
+
+UP ALOFT.--The most elevated title in the Peerage, and belonging to
+the upperest part of the Upper House, is "Lord MOUNTGARRET." There can
+be but one higher, and that will have to be created in the person of
+a future "Lord TOPOCHIMNEPOT." Though, perhaps, the title of "Lord
+COWLEY," if it were altered into Lord CHIMNEPOT-COWL-Y, would be the
+highest of all.
+
+ * * * * *
+
+ANGLICE-FRENCHIE EXCLAMATION (_on any of the recent many showery
+days when, after an interval of ten minutes, the next bucketful
+descended_).--"_POUR une autre fois!_"
+
+ * * * * *
+
+[Illustration: NATURE'S SECRETS.
+
+"HERE ARE SOME NEW LAID EGGS FOR YOU, GEORGIE!"
+
+"OH, THANKS! HOW NICE! I HAVEN'T SEEN A NEW LAID EGG FOR WEEKS! HOW DO
+YOU MANAGE TO GET THEM? OH, OF COURSE--YOU'VE GOT _AN INCUBATOR_!"]
+
+ * * * * *
+
+INNS AND OUTS.
+
+NO. III.--THE PORTER.
+
+I had intended to have written, this week about "Loggosh"--including
+that mysterious canvass hand-box which contains all that a foreigner
+cares to carry about with him by day, and often pillows him when
+travelling by night; but the very mention of luggage brings me back
+to the Porter. I abominate him. I am "one who has suffered." So here
+goes!
+
+"Imposing," best describes the Hôtel porter; a very Grand Hôtel has
+at least two of these impositions--the House Porter and the Omnibus
+Porter. The latter you only see twice in your Hôtel existence, but he
+is the most futile and the deadliest fraud of the two.
+
+This Porter is part and parcel of that horrible deep-red-plush
+nuisance, the Hôtel-omnibus. He and it are inseparables, and make up
+a sort of Centaur between them. Once outside the Railway-station, I
+am besieged by a babel of these Porter-omnibuses--"Bear Hôtel, Sor;"
+"Grand Hôtel, Sor!"--This, from a very dilapidated specimen, which,
+on inspection, turns out to be "Grand Hôtel Du Lac;" a pirate
+porter-omnibus in fact; at last I find _The_ Grand Hôtel vehicle, and
+functionary. The latter is of gigantic stature; quite a "chucker-out;"
+in a uniform between that of a German bandsman and a Salvation
+Captain--"Certinly, Sar. Dis Grand Hôtel; I see your Loggosh, Sar; gif
+me se empfangschein." "Do you speak English?" I retort.--"Certinly;
+spik Ingleese--empfangschein!"--"Empfangschein" baffles me, and I
+am about to hand my keys to the monster, when a good-natured Courier
+explains that it signifies the luggage-receipt.
+
+Away ambles the Porter, leaving me with that orphaned sort of feeling
+which a luggageless Englishman experiences; it is pouring cats and
+dogs; I am dead beat; I creep into the dark omnibus. I find myself
+quite alone. I wait impatiently--a quarter of an hour--twenty-five
+minutes--still no Porter; I am famished; to distract myself, I
+peer through the door, whence I can discern the messy vista of the
+railway-station in the rain; it's lucky I do so; for there I behold my
+own portmanteau, with its huge purple stripe, being hauled away on the
+back of a railway-man, followed by an alien Hôtel Porter, _not mine_,
+doing nothing: they are always doing nothing. To rush out indignantly,
+seize my box, defy the brigands, and carry it back myself, seemed
+the work of an instant. Drenched and gasping, I find myself once
+more outside; the Porter of the Grand Hôtel Du Lac is at my heels,
+furious and impertinent. "Dis, _not_ your loggosh: other shentleman's
+loggosh." He seized the portmanteau, and a struggle would certainly
+have ensued, when my own Hôtel Porter appeared on the scene
+triumphant, with a regiment of station-men carrying one small tin box.
+"What you do, Sar; see _here_, your loggosh!" The tin box belonged to
+a commercial-traveller, who was bound for the Hôtel Du Lac.
+
+I am too exhausted to curse, and leave the rival Porters to fight it
+out themselves, after paying off the ragged regiment of Station-men.
+On the drive to the Hôtel, the Porter tries to propitiate me.
+
+"Pity shentlemans like you, Sar, fetch de loggosh. I tell you, better
+leave it to me, Sar. You see, _I_ get your loggosh. Dat bizley Porter
+of De Hôtel Du Lac, he change de empfangschein; but I sweep it from
+him, and bring to de 'Bus"--"'Bus" was good--and then he laughed!
+
+[Illustration: "Pity shentlemans like you, Sar, retchistar de
+loggosh."]
+
+I never saw the brute again until the time of my departure; I had
+taken a carriage to the Station this time, thinking thereby to avoid
+the Porter-omnibus. I had registered my traps myself, and was looking
+out for some one to carry them to the den in which you are penned till
+the train arrives, when, lo! the chucker-out! smiling and bowing as if
+he had never seen me before--"Is better I retchistar de loggosh, Sar;
+pity shentlemans like you, Sar, retchistar de loggosh."
+
+I turn on my heel with an imprecation which "Ingleese-spikers"
+understand. But he still waits there, smiling, and expecting to be
+tipped, Let him wait. So much for the Omnibus-Porter--at once the Gamp
+and Undertaker of my Grand Hôtel existence.
+
+The House-Porter is of equal size, and equal uselessness. He sits
+in the hall, and always rises and salutes when you pass. If you want
+anything, he waits till you have got it, and then offers to procure
+it for you. If you ask to be called early, he chalks something on a
+slate, and you are safe not to be disturbed until you rise in your
+wrath and ring violently. Should you be in a town, and wish to secure
+theatre-tickets, he becomes more active; he implores you not to resort
+to "De Boxing Office, vare you pay premiums, you see;" but he has one
+or two left for sale. Should you be weak enough to yield, you will
+find that the worst seats at the highest prices are yours; and, if you
+remonstrate next day, he will sigh wearily, and remark,--"Is acheslant
+places, Sar; but was Gala Night, you see,"--an enigma, which those who
+run may read. He is always offering to do something, and doing _you_
+instead. He is absolutely unnecessary, for there is seldom anyone in a
+Grand Hôtel to "chuck out," and this would be his only justification.
+
+ * * * * *
+
+THE "BLOWER" BURST UP!
+
+ The "Blower" came down, like the braggart he was,
+ And of winning the fight was peculiarly "poz;"
+ And the voice of his backers was loud in their glee;--
+ "We shall lick him in two rounds--or certainly three!"
+
+ Like the "Champion Slugger," in trunks of bright green,
+ The "Big Fellow" at Eight fifty-two might be seen:
+ Like a truculent Titan, blind, baffled, and blown,
+ At Ten thirty-seven the brute was o'erthrown.
+
+ For CORBETT smote fiercely, and CORBETT fought fast,
+ And the bullying bounder was beaten at last;
+ And the cheeks of the coarse woman-puncher were chill,
+ He rolled over, and struggled to rise, and lay still.
+
+ And there stood his foe with his nostrils all wide,
+ And the shouts of his backers rolled on in their pride.
+ The swells of the Ring and the stars of the Turf
+ Surged round like the waves of the storm-beaten surf.
+
+ And there lay the "Blower," distorted and pale,
+ With the blood on his brow where the blows fell like hail.
+ _His_ backers were silent, he lay there alone,
+ His mawleys unlifted, his trumpet unblown.
+
+ And the "Sports" of the South are all loud in their wail.
+ But _Punch_, who hates bullying brutes, can but hail
+ That smart Californian's pluck, skill, and strength,
+ Who has pricked the big SULLIVAN bladder--at length!
+
+ * * * * *
+
+"FONS ET ORIGO."--As to London Water "seek Wells," that is if you
+wish to avoid unpleasant seq-uels. "_Don't_ leave Wells alone" is our
+motto, meaning "Sir SPENCER" of that ilk, who has a deal worth hearing
+to say on this subject.
+
+ * * * * *
+
+[Illustration: TWO SIDES TO A QUESTION.
+
+_Major Podmore_. "CONGRATULATE YOU, DEAR BOY!"
+
+_Disappointed Cricketer_. "WHAT DO YOU MEAN? BOWLED FIRST BALL--NEVER
+GOT A RUN!"
+
+_Major Podmore_. "QUITE SO, DEAR BOY. BUT IN THIS HOT WEATHER--80° IN
+THE SHADE--SO MUCH BETTER, IF YOU CAN, TO TAKE THINGS COOLLY!"]
+
+ * * * * *
+
+A ROUNDABOUT RAMBLE.
+
+(_A FACT FOUNDED ON FICTION._)
+
+The sharp, bright little Traveller made his way to the Cabinet of M.
+CARNOT, and disturbed him at work.
+
+"Do you know, M. Le Président," said he, "that the Russians are in
+secret treaty with the English, and the Russo-French Alliance is all
+nonsense--the most unreliable of broken reeds?"
+
+"Well, no," replied CARNOT, "I have not heard anything of the sort;
+and, if anyone should be up in it--"
+
+But the Traveller did not want to hear the rest, for he was once again
+on his road, telling everyone he met the disquieting intelligence,
+and, consequently, the French people were greatly troubled.
+
+He was soon in Berlin. He did not ask for an interview with the
+KAISER, but took one.
+
+"Your Royal and Imperial Majesty," said he, "are you aware that Italy
+is in secret accord with France, and that the Triple Alliance is a
+sham, and that the cry _À Berlin!_ may be renewed at any moment?"
+
+"Well, no," said the Emperor, "I have not heard this; and if anyone
+should know anything about it, I fancy--"
+
+But the Traveller did not wait for the KAISER to finish the
+sentence, but was off again, telling everyone he met the disquieting
+intelligence. And, consequently, the German people were greatly
+troubled.
+
+Then the Traveller obtained admission, in the same unceremonious
+fashion, to the apartment occupied by the Emperor of AUSTRIA.
+
+"King of HUNGARY," said he, "are you aware that you cannot possibly
+rely upon your German neighbour, because the KAISER has a secret
+understanding with the CZAR, by which the Principalities will be
+included in Russian territory, and the Rhine secured from French
+invasion?"
+
+"No, I have not heard it," was the answer; "and, if it had been the
+case, I imagine that--"
+
+But again the Traveller left without waiting for the completion of
+the sentence, and went his way telling everyone he met the disquieting
+intelligence. And consequently, the Austro-Hungarian peoples were
+greatly troubled.
+
+And now the Traveller was in the presence of the Emperor of ALL THE
+RUSSIAS. Again he had obtained admission without the preliminary of an
+official introduction.
+
+"Little Father," said the Traveller, "are you aware that your youthful
+relative in Berlin is coquetting with France and England, and you may
+find the whole of Europe marshalled against you?"
+
+"Well, no I have not heard it," returned the CZAR; "and I really
+think--"
+
+But the Traveller never learned what the CZAR really thought, for he
+was away before His Imperial Majesty had completed the sentence. And
+as he went away, after his usual fashion, he spread the disquieting
+intelligence, and consequently the Russian people were greatly
+troubled.
+
+And now the Traveller was in Cairo. He presented himself before the
+KHEDIVE without waiting for the English adviser.
+
+"Your Highness, do you know that the British Army of occupation is on
+the eve of departure?" said he.
+
+"What, in spite of Lord ROSEBERY going to the Foreign Office!"
+exclaimed the SULTAN's vassal, in a tone of considerable astonishment.
+
+"Of course," replied the visitor. "Everything was settled long ago,
+and before Christmas there won't be a red-coat in Egypt!"
+
+"Indeed," returned His Highness, "I certainly have not heard it, and I
+fancy--"
+
+But the Traveller departed without ascertaining the drift of the
+KHEDIVE's fancies, and on his road, strictly according to precedent,
+spread the disquieting intelligence, and consequently the Egyptian
+people were greatly troubled.
+
+And now the Traveller was once more back in London. He entered Capel
+Court and rested himself. He said nothing. It was unnecessary, for he
+was well known, and his stories had already been discounted.
+
+"Ah, my little friend RUMOUR," said Mr. BULLBEAR; "you have come back
+again! And now you can rest for awhile, until we want you after the
+next account."
+
+So RUMOUR is waiting in the Stock Exchange until he is wanted after
+the next account!
+
+ * * * * *
+
+LETTERS TO ABSTRACTIONS.
+
+NO. XIV.--TO SWAGGER.
+
+I approach you with fear and trembling. Somewhere in the Cave of the
+Winds you have your home. The ancient Authors, to their discredit,
+make no mention of your existence there, but the fact is as I have
+stated it. The East wind blows into your gaping mouth, and forth you
+go, puffing and swelling with an alien importance, to do your hateful
+work. You hover over a second-rate Statesman, who has attracted the
+applause of a Party by an opportune speech, compiled by the industry
+of a humble Secretary. From that moment his nature changes. Though he
+may have been simple and beloved, yet, through you, he shall become
+pompous, and abhorred. His fellow-creatures are thenceforth mere
+material for his trampling feet; he swells into regions to which no
+criticism can reach; he covers himself in a triple hide of vanity,
+ostentation, and disdain; he hails himself continually as the unaided
+Saviour of his country, and dies in the odour of braggadocio, without
+a genuine friend to mourn his loss.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+Or, again, you select some common, smug-faced Clergyman, capable, no
+doubt, if he were left alone, of guiding his flock quietly into the
+strait paths of goodness and humility. You turn him into a loud-voiced
+Clerical quack, vending his wretched patent medicines of salvation
+in a style of offensive denunciation that would have ruined a host of
+Dulcamaras, trained in the insinuating methods of the ordinary trade.
+But on this the Clergyman thrives, and weak women fall prostrate
+before his roaring insincerity.
+
+Nor do you neglect the young. Heavens! I remember I was once favoured
+with the confidences of WILLIAM JOSKINS BACON, an Undergraduate,
+generally known to his intimates as "Side of Bacon." I shudder
+to recollect how that amazing creature discoursed to me about his
+popularity, his influence, his surprising deeds both of valour and of
+discretion. With one nod--and, as he spoke, he gave me an illustration
+of his Olympian method--he had awed his Head-master--a present
+ornament of the Bench of Bishops--into a terrified silence, from which
+he recovered only to bless the name of JOSKINS, and hold him up as a
+pattern to his schoolfellows. At a single phrase of scorn from those
+redoubtable lips, his College Tutor had withered into acquiescence,
+and had never dared to refuse him an _exeat_ from that day forth. "I
+can't help pitying the beggar," said JOSKINS--"but I had to do it.
+You must make these fellows feel you're their master, or they'll never
+give you a moment's peace. Halloa!" he continued, as a brawny athlete
+sauntered into the room, "how's the boat going, BULLEN? Not very well,
+eh? Well, remember I'm ready to lend you a hand, and pull you through
+when things get desperate." The smile with which this offer was
+received had no effect upon my companion. He took it rather as a
+tribute to the subtle humour which, as he believed, lay lurking in his
+simplest utterances. "Always make 'em laugh," he observed, with pride.
+"It keeps up the spirits of these poor devils of rowing-men; and old
+BULLEN knows I'm all there when I'm wanted." But I had heard enough,
+and departed from him, feeling as though a steam-roller had passed
+over my moral nature, and flattened out my self-respect.
+
+Then there was CHEPSTOWE, the poet. I am old enough to remember him;
+and it pleases me sometimes to call back to my mind this paltry and
+forgotten little literary _Bombastes_. As I write, I have before
+me some of the reviews that greeted his boisterous invasion of the
+regions of song. "Mr. CHEPSTOWE," said one, "has struck a note which
+is destined to vibrate so long as the English language is spoken in
+civilised lands. He is no ordinary rhymester, struggling feebly in the
+bonds of convention. With a bold and masterful on-rush, he cleaves his
+way unhesitatingly to the very heart of things, tears it out, and lays
+it, palpitating and bleeding, before the eyes of humanity. We have
+only space for a few lines from the magnificent _Ode to Actuality_:--
+
+ "'Prone in the caverns of the vasty deep
+ I lay,
+ And slept not, though I seemed to sleep.
+ The day
+ Pierced not with sullen eyes of pallid scorn
+ The dark,
+ Unplumbed abyss, where, girt with red limbs torn.
+ The shark
+ Sported, and eyeless monsters crawled in slime--'
+
+"No extract can, however, convey an adequate idea of this grand poem,
+on which, as on the bed rock, Mr. CHEPSTOWE's fame is established for
+ever, SHAKSPEARE himself might have been proud to have written it."
+I may remark, parenthetically, that in his "Ode" CHEPSTOWE pictured
+himself as a sort of animate skeleton:--
+
+ "Sockets where light once shone grinned emptiness;
+ The teeth
+ Were fallen from the gaping, gumless jaws; nathless
+ Beneath
+ The cold smooth skull, the brain retained her throne."
+
+Amid these uncomfortable surroundings CHEPSTOWE described himself as
+penetrated with raptures of fierce joy at having shaken himself free
+from the world and its puling insincerities to dwell amid "Unpitying
+shapes of death's dread twin despair," where "Rapine and slaughter
+raged, and none rebuked." Another reviewer observed that "The soul of
+ARCHER's, the tavern-brawler's glorious victim, KIT MARLOWE, has taken
+again a habitation of clay. She speaks trumpet-tongued by the mouth
+of Mr. CHEPSTOWE. We note in these outpourings of dramatic passion
+an audacity, an energy, an enthusiasm, that are calculated to shake
+Peckham Rye to its centre, and make Balham tremble in its ridiculous
+carpet slippers. Who--to take only one example--but Mr. CHEPSTOWE or
+MARLOWE could have written thus of 'Rapture'?--
+
+ "'Not in the mouths of prating men who deem
+ That God dwells in the senseless clay they mould,
+ Who live their little lives and die their deaths,
+ Lapped in a smug respectability;
+ Who never dreamt of breaking puny laws
+ Formed for a puny race of grovellers;
+ But in the blood-stained track of flaming swords,
+ Wielded by knotty arms in Man's despite,
+ Or on the wings of crashing battle-balls,
+ Bone-shattering dealers of a thousand wounds,
+ The roaring heralds of indignant God,
+ There rapture dwells, and there I too would dwell.'
+
+"Here is power that would furnish forth a whole legion of the
+poetasters who crawl through our effete literature!" But I cannot
+pursue these memories. They are too painful. For who speaks of
+CHEPSTOWE now? Who cares to cumber his bookshelves with the volumes
+in which this inflated arm-chair prophet of the tin pots delivered his
+shrieking message? His very name has flickered out; and when I spoke
+of him the other day, I was asked, by a person of some intelligence,
+if I referred to CHEPSTOWE who had just made 166 playing cricket for
+the Gentlemen against the Players. Not even the lion and the lizard
+keep his courts, and yet JAMSHYD CHEPSTOWE gloried and drank deep in
+his day. He blustered through many editions, he bellowed his contempt
+at a shrinking world, he outraged conventionality, he swung himself by
+the aid of newly-fashioned metres to lofty peaks of poetic daring, and
+to-day the dust lies thick upon his books, and his name is confounded
+with that of an eminent cricket-player!
+
+My excellent SWAGGER, it was meanly done. If you meant to wipe him out
+so swiftly, why did you ever exalt him?
+
+Farewell for a space. I may have to write to you again.
+
+Yours, DIOGENES ROBINSON.
+
+ * * * * *
+
+"USED UP."--Lord BRASSEY requested several papers last week to publish
+his denial as to having the finest collection of stamps in the world.
+His Lordship, it appears, "doesn't take the smallest interest in
+foreign stamps." Fortunate for Lord BRASSEY. There are some excellent
+people who can't get up any interest, or capital either, at all
+without a stamp of some sort. Lord BRASSEY wished it further known,
+that he was not a collector of curios, and had no curiosity of any
+kind. Lord BRASSEY must be a later edition of _L'Homme Blasé_, to whom
+the world was round like an indiarubber-ball and "nothing in it."
+
+ * * * * *
+
+"IN NUBIBUS."--If the new Sky-signs with which we are threatened,
+_viz._, advertisements reflected in the clouds, become the fashion,
+the aspect of the heavens by daylight will be as delightful and
+artistic as are the walls of our hoardings and Railway-stations.
+The anthem of "_The Heavens are Telling_" will have to be adapted
+for large towns. Perhaps pictures may be projected on the nebulous
+back-ground. If so, some of our best Artists may not object to taking
+a good sum, and then having their work "Sky'd."
+
+ * * * * *
+
+PHANTASMA-GORE-IA!
+
+_PICTURING THE VARIOUS MODES OF MELODRAMATIC MURDER_. (_BY OUR
+"OFF-HIS"-HEAD POET_.)
+
+NO. I.--THE DAGGER MURDER.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+ They stand alone on the moonlit spot,--
+ Sing Ho--ho! and Ha--ha! there!
+ One is the villain, and one is not,
+ But the heroine's father.
+ They stand alone on the patch of light
+ (Which comes from the left as well as right)--
+ Oh, 'tis a glorious place and night
+ For a Murder Scene! Rather!
+
+ They talk of deeds (of the parchment kind)--
+ Sing Ha--ha! and Ho-ho! there!
+ The heavy father, to reason blind,
+ Has them with him to show there!
+ The deeds relate to the old man's will;
+ The villain wants them to pay a bill!
+ The night is cold, and the night is still
+ Let the music be slow there!
+
+ They stand alone in the pale-green light--
+ Sing Hey--hey! and he--he! there!
+ What is this flashing so keen and bright?
+ What is this that I see there?
+ Oh! deed of darkness in light descried!
+ Oh! villain thrice damn'd that blade to hide,
+ Right 'tween the arm on _the farther_ side--
+ Certain death when it be there!
+
+ They're still alone on the moonlit spot--
+ Sing He--he! and Hey--hey! there!
+ Though one is Standing,[1] and one is not,
+ For _one's_ cold as the clay there!
+ The villain covers the dead man's stare--
+ The corpse lies stiff in the limelight's glare!
+ The act is done!--and for all I care,
+ The dead body can stay there!
+
+[Footnote 1: HERBERT.]
+
+ * * * * *
+
+TO MY LUGGAGE-LABELS.
+
+ Wonderful pictures of purple and gold,
+ Ultramarine, and vermilion, and bistre;
+ Splendid inscriptions of hostels untold,
+ Touching memorials breathing of "Mr.;"
+ "Schweizerhof," "Bernerhof," "Hofs" by the score;
+ Signs of the Bear and the Swan, and the Bellevue,
+ Gasthaus, Albergo, Posada, galore--
+ Beautiful wrecks, how I wish I could shelve you!
+
+ Visions of Venice--her stones and her smells!
+ Whiffs of Cologne--aromatic mementos;
+ Visiting cards, so to speak, of hotels;
+ Como's, Granada's, Zermatt's and Sorrento's
+ Ah! how ye cling to my boxes and bags,
+ Glued with a pigment that baffles removal;
+ Dogged adherents in dirt and in rags;
+ Labels, receive my profane disapproval!
+
+ Much as I prized you, when roaming afield,
+ Loved you, when Life was metheglyn and skittles,
+ Wished you the spell of remembrance to wield,
+ Calling the scenery back and the victuals;
+ Still, when it blows and it rains, and it irks,
+ Here in apartments adjoining a seaview,
+ After a meal that would terrify Turks,
+ Somehow I feel I can scarcely believe you.
+
+ Yes! It's too much to remember the past--
+ Here, amid shrimps, and agilities nameless;
+ Glaciers gigantic, and Restaurants vast
+ Chime not with sands and a tablecloth shameless;
+ Smoking a pestilent, sea-side cigar,
+ Mewed in a lodging with children and nurses,
+ Epitaphs gorgeous of far "_Dolce far_,"
+ Curse you with paterfamiliar curses!
+
+ * * * * *
+
+THE UGLY FACE: A MORAL DUTY
+
+[Illustration: "A ready-made Comedian with fifty quid a week."]
+
+ Some years ago a babe was born--I need not name the place--
+ With a puffy, pasty, podgy, gutta-percha sort of face,
+ Which wrinkles sub-divided into funny little bits,
+ While beady eyes peered cunningly behind two tiny slits.
+
+ His nose was like a mushroom of the foreign button sort,
+ His form was quaint and chubby, and his legs were extra short;
+ That his nurse spoke like SAPPHIRA, I have always had a fear,
+ When she said he was a "beauty," and a "pretty little dear."
+
+ Yes, such remarks were really of the truth, a dreadful stretch,
+ For, in point of fact, that baby was a hideous little wretch;
+ And in course of time he grew up--though a loving mother's joy--
+ Into quite a champion specimen of the genius "ugly boy."
+
+ At school his teasing comrades gave him many comic names,
+ And he became the victim of all sorts of naughty games;
+ Nor did the master like him, for he felt that such a face,
+ Mid a row of ruddy youngsters, was extremely out of place.
+
+ In time, his father placed him in the City--as a clerk--
+ Where his personal appearance excited much remark;
+ But he fell out with his principal, whose customers complained,
+ That his clerk was making faces, and said "Bosh!" when he explained.
+
+ On perceiving from the office that he never would be missed,
+ As Mr. GILBERT puts it, he determined to enlist;
+ And so one summer afternoon he started forth in search
+ Of a Sergeant who perambulates close by St. Martin's Church.
+
+ The Sergeant burst out laughing when he'd uttered his request,
+ And declared that, of a batch of jokes he knew, this was the best;
+ "'Tis a pity you're too short, my lad," he then went on to say,
+ "For wid _that_ face ye'd froighten ivery inimy away!"
+
+ In a fountain which played handy--it was near Trafalgar Square--
+ He was rushing off to drown himself, the victim of despair,
+ When he knocked against a person he'd not seen for quite an age,
+ Who had left his home some years before, and gone upon the Stage.
+
+ To this friend he soon narrated his distressing tale of woe,
+ And declared his case was hopeless. But the actor said, "Not so.
+ There's _one_ thing, my fine fellow, that as yet you haven't tried,
+ Where your face will be your fortune, and a pound or two beside.
+
+ "With a mouth like yours to grin with, and your too delicious
+ squint,
+ And the ears that Nature's given you with such a lack of stint,--
+ No matter what an author may provide you with to speak,
+ You're a ready-made Comedian--with your fifty quid a week."
+
+ And it was so. Though he started at a figure rather less
+ Than the one that I have mentioned, still the truth I but express
+ When I say he now is earning such a wage as wouldn't shock
+ A respectable Archbishop or a fashionable jock.
+
+ And the face that all men sneered at, now is very much admired,
+ And the public ne'er, apparently, of watching it grows tired,
+ And the Merchant who dismissed him, in the Stalls is wont to sit,
+ While the Sergeant and his sweetheart are applauding from the Pit.
+
+ The moral of my narrative is easy to espy.
+ But still I'd better mention it, lest some should pass it by:
+ "Though it's often very troublesome indeed to find it out--
+ There's a proper sphere for _everyone_, beyond the slightest doubt."
+
+ * * * * *
+
+[Illustration: TECHNICALITIES.
+
+_First Amateur Water-Colourist._ "DO YOU _WASH_ MUCH?"
+
+_Second Ditto Ditto_. "NO; I _SCRATCH_ A GOOD DEAL!"]
+
+ * * * * *
+
+"PUTTING ON THE HUG."
+
+ [During President CARNOT's tour he received at Aix-les-Bains
+ "a delegation of children." One of these, clad in a Russian
+ dress, offered him a bunch of flowers, repeating a stanza
+ written for the occasion. M. CARNOT, amid cries of "_Vive
+ la France!_" "_Vive la Russie!_" "_Vive Carnot!_" "_Vive la
+ République!_" kissed the little girl, saying, "_J'embrasse la
+ Russie!_"]
+
+ Yes--"_Vive la France!_"--and "_Vive la Russie!_" too.
+ _Vive_--why not?--everybody!
+ Called once, "_Monsieur le Président Faute-de-Mieux_"[2]
+ (By _Punch_, that foe of shoddy).
+ I fancy I have justified the name,
+ Ay, to the very letter.
+ I may not be a THIERS, but all the same,
+ France has not found a better.
+
+ Tall-talk is tedious, but one must not flinch
+ When asked the task to tackle;
+ And he's no Frenchman true who, at a pinch,
+ Cannot both crow and cackle.
+ Ah, _Vive_, once more, the Gallic Cock--and hen!
+ These Talking-Tours are trying,
+ But 'tis with windy flouts of tongue or pen,
+ We keep the French flag flying.
+
+ A sop for SAVOY neatly put, elicits
+ _Such_ "double rounds of cheering."
+ "_Vive CARNOT!_" To be sure! My annual visits,
+ France to the Flag endearing
+ By sweet-phrased flattery of the Fatherland,
+ Are sure to swell our legions.
+ "I wish, France, to be _thine_!" The effect was grand,
+ In "Allobrogian" regions.
+
+ _Vive_ Everything--especially _la Blague!_
+ (What _should_ we do without it?)
+ Fraternity! the Fatherland! the Flag!--
+ _I_ work them--never doubt it!
+ Then "_La République_" and "_La Russie_," linked,
+ Pair off, 'midst acclamations:
+ Yes, I proclaimed--and never winced or winked--
+ _That_ "brotherhood of nations!"
+
+ "A delegation of young children," Ah!
+ And they were not the only ones.
+ "Men are but children of a larger--" Bah!
+ Wise and strong _men_ are--lonely ones.
+ Most men--French-men--have touches of the child,
+ Fondness for show, fine phrases--
+ Pst! Here my _rôle_'s not cynical, but mild,
+ And open as dawn-daisies.
+
+ "_J'embrasse la Russie!_" That was rather neat
+ For "_Faute-de-Mieux_," at any rate.
+ Wondrous the magic power of _blague_, and "bleat"
+ On Man--_mouton_ degenerate!
+ That "_Bête Humaine_," as ZOLA dubs him. Gr--r--r!
+ The real brutes are braver;
+ The tiger, when in chase of prey, won't purr,
+ Nor will the Bear, then, slaver.
+
+ The Bear! Reminds me of a horrid dream
+ I had that night. A funny one,
+ But startling! I awoke with such a scream!
+ I dreamt some link (a money one?)
+ Bound me to a big Bruin, rampant, tall,
+ A regular Russian Shagbag,
+ In whose close hug I felt extremely small,
+ And squeezable as a rag-bag.
+
+ I, CARNOT, squeezable! 'Tis too absurd!
+ A President, and pliant!
+ But--in my dream--the raucous voice I heard
+ Of that grim ursine giant.
+ "Come to my arms! You'll find them strong and snug.
+ The North's _so_ true--and tender!"--
+ And then that monster huge put on the hug!
+ I thought my soul I'd render.
+
+ A bear's embrace, like a prize-fighter's grip,
+ Is close as passion's clasping.
+ "Welcome!" he grunted. "_I_'ll not let you slip!"
+ "Thanks! thanks!" I answered, gasping.
+ "_J'em--brasse--la--Rus--sie!_" Here my breath quite failed
+ In that prodigious cuddle.
+ 'Twas but a dream--How was it sleep prevailed
+ My meaning so to muddle?
+
+ "_J'embrasse la Russie!_" It was neatly phrased
+ As MOHRENHEIM admitted,
+ A President, in doggerel stanzas praised,
+ Must be so ready-witted,
+ Yet mild Republican and Autocrat,
+ Hugging in friendly seeming,
+ Suggest that _Someone_ may be cuddled _flat_--
+ At least in restless dreaming.
+
+[Footnote 2: See Cut so named, p. 279, Vol. 93, Dec. 17, 1887.]
+
+ * * * * *
+
+FROM THE VALE OF LLANGOLFLYN.
+
+DEAR MR. PUNCH,--I have just seen your Number with the Song of "The
+Golf Enthusiast." It occurs to me that no one has ever mentioned the
+fact that the Romans knew the game, for does not VIRGIL sing, "_Tee
+veniente die--Tee decedente canebat?_" I have not the book, and
+therefore can't give you the reference--but I know I am right, as I am
+
+A WELSH GOLFER.
+
+ * * * * *
+
+[Illustration: "PUTTING ON THE HUG!"
+
+M. LE PRÉSIDENT (_breathlessly_). "J'EM--BRASSE--LA RUSSIE!!"
+
+ ("An interesting incident occurred during the official
+ reception held by M. CARNOT at the Mairie. A child dressed in
+ the Russian national costume presented the President with
+ a bouquet, at the same time reciting a brief complimentary
+ speech. M. CARNOT smilingly embraced the child, saying, 'I
+ embrace Russia.'"--_Quoted from Daily Papers_.)]
+
+ * * * * *
+
+WHY YOUNG MEN DON'T MARRY.
+
+DEAR MR. PUNCH,--The reason is obvious. It is entirely owing to your
+advice to those about to marry--Don't! I myself have been on the brink
+of proposing to several thousand delightful girls, a large per centage
+of which, I am convinced, would have gladly accepted me. I have in
+every case been restrained by the recollection of your advice.--Your
+obedient and obliged Servant,
+
+HUGH ADOLPHUS LATCH-KEY.
+
+_Sept_. 5, 1892.
+
+DEAR MR. PUNCH,--The reason (which I confide to your ear, and yours
+alone) is obvious--the girls don't, and apparently _won't_ propose.
+Of course they ought--what else do we have Leap Year for? Take my own
+case. I am genuinely in love with ETHEL TRINKERTON, who has just been
+staying with us in the country for three weeks. She has paid me every
+kind of attention. In our neighbourhood, if A. carries B.'s umbrella,
+where A. and B. are of opposite sexes, it is regarded as an informal,
+though perfectly definite way of announcing an approaching engagement.
+She knew the custom, and _carried mine on no less than three
+occasions_. (It is entirely beside the point that it rained heavily
+each time.) Yet she left us yesterday without an approach to a
+proposal. She's fair enough herself, but is her conduct? It isn't
+as if I hadn't given her enough chances. It cost me a small fortune
+to bribe my small brother to keep away; and, time after time, I've
+consented to sit alone with her in the summer-house. It isn't as
+if she couldn't afford it. They tell me she has at least a thousand
+a-year in her own right (whatever that may be), which would do
+capitally. I happen to be penniless myself; but, as I heard her say,
+her idea of marriage was the union of "soul to soul," my want of a few
+paltry pence could hardly matter. It's particularly humiliating for
+me, as, after the repeated umbrella-carrying, everybody here thinks
+it's all settled. That, _Mr. Punch_, is the reason why, at any rate,
+_one_ young man doesn't marry.
+
+Yours, thoroughly aggrieved, BERTIE COOL-CHEEK,
+
+_Pickleton-in-the-Marsh, Kent_.
+
+P.S.--If ETHEL really didn't understand her position, and would like
+to reopen the matter, I would not be haughty about it.--B. C-C.
+
+DEAR, KIND, GOOD MR. PUNCH,--The reason is obvious--the men don't and
+won't propose to the right girls. Take my own case. I've just stayed
+three weeks with the COOL-CHEEKS, and felt quite certain BERTIE would
+have proposed. He had all the symptoms badly. I saw him give his
+little brother half-a-crown to go indoors for ten minutes, and the way
+he _would_ go in the summer-house and for long walks--with _me_--made
+it quite clear (as I thought) what was going to happen. Yet, he let
+me come away without a word! I'm sure _I_ don't want to run after him
+(or anybody else), but I _did_ think he meant something. We suited
+one another admirably. In fact, if he doesn't ask _me_ with all the
+opportunities he had, he'd ask no one.
+
+Yours, just-a-little-disappointed, ETHEL TRINKERTON,
+
+_The Thorns, Bayswater._
+
+P.S.--He carried my umbrella almost hourly--and you know what
+_that_ means. If BERTIE was only nervous, and would like another
+chance--well, we are always at home on Sunday afternoons.--E.T.
+
+ * * * * *
+
+[Illustration: A REAL CONVERT.
+
+_Local Preacher_ (_giving an account to the Vicar of the Parish of a
+dispute he has had with the Leading Lights of his Sect_). "YES, SIR,
+AFTER TREATMENT THE LIKES O' THAT, I SAYS TO 'EM, 'FOR THE FUTURE,'
+SAYS I, 'I CHUCKS UP ALL RELIGION, AND I GOES TO CHURCH!'"]
+
+ * * * * *
+
+A HINT TO EDITORS.
+
+ SCENE--_The Sanctum of a Newspaper Office. Editor discovered
+ (by Obtrusive Visitor) hard at work._
+
+_Obtrusive Visitor_. I trust that I have not come at an unfortunate
+moment?
+
+_Editor_ (_looking up from his desk_). Dear me! You here! Delighted to
+see you. But don't let me disturb you. Good-bye!
+
+_Ob. Vis._ (_seating himself_). No; I am afraid it is the other way. I
+know at this time of the week you must be exceptionally busy.
+
+_Ed._ (_with courteous impatience_). Not at all, but--
+
+_Ob. Vis._ Oh! thank you so much. Because it is the very last thing in
+the world I would like to do--to disturb you. And now, how are you?
+
+_Ed._ Quite well, thanks. But now, if you don't mind, I will just
+finish.
+
+ [_Turns to go on with his article._
+
+_Ob. Vis._ (_rejecting the hint_). I said to myself as I came along,
+Now I will look him up.
+
+_Ed._ Very kind of you, but--
+
+_Ob. Vis._ Oh, not in the least; and you know, my dear fellow, how I
+enjoy a chat.
+
+_Ed._ Yes,--and I, too. But just now--
+
+_Ob. Vis._ Quite so. You want me to do all the talking, as we haven't
+met for the last three weeks. Well, you must know we have been to
+Herne Bay, and--
+
+_Ed._ Yes; charming place. But just now I am--
+
+_Ob. Vis._ Quite so. But I didn't come to tell you about Herne Bay,
+although it is really a delightful spot. The air--
+
+_Ed._ Yes, I know all about it. First-rate, most salubrious, and the
+rest of it. But, my dear friend, you really must--
+
+_Ob. Vis._ Quite so! Yes, everyone knows all about Herne Bay; and I
+really came to ask you if you had any room for an article.
+
+_Ed._ (_roused_). My dear fellow, I assure you we are quite full for
+months. Any number of excellent things standing over.
+
+_Ob. Vis._ Oh, yes, I know you are always full. You told me so the
+last time I called.
+
+_Ed._ Quite so! Very sorry, but it can't be helped. Have to look so
+far ahead nowadays, you know.
+
+_Ob. Vis._ Certainly; and that is why I thought I would just bring a
+half-finished article and show you what I had dome, and complete it
+if you thought it would do. You can put it in whenever you like; so it
+would not hurt for standing over.
+
+_Ed._ (_with inspiration_). What is it called?
+
+_Ob. Vis._ "Russian Wheat and Chinese Tea or Free Trade in Australia."
+The subject is quite novel, and ought to attract considerable
+attention.
+
+_Ed._ Novel! Why, my dear fellow, I do believe I have an article
+somewhere in that heap upon the very subject.
+
+ [_Pretends to search pile of MS._
+
+_Ob. Vis._ (_uneasily_). Oh, never mind. I will read you what I have
+written, and--
+
+_Ed._ (_genially_). Oh, no, I won't give you the trouble. I will read
+you what _he_ has written, and then you can see.--Ah, here it is!
+
+ [_Produces enormous pile of MS._
+
+_Ob. Vis._ (_hesitating_). Well, perhaps, if you don't mind--
+
+ [_Suddenly remembers an appointment and exit. Editor resumes
+ hit work with an air of triumph. Curtain._
+
+ * * * * *
+
+THE THIEF'S MOTTO.--"Take things quietly."
+
+ * * * * *
+
+[Illustration: _Jones_. "HOW IS IT WE SEE YOU SO SELDOM AT THE CLUB
+NOW?"
+
+_Old Member_. "AH, WELL, YOU SEE, I'M NOT SO YOUNG AS I WAS; AND
+I'VE HAD A GOOD DEAL OF WORRY LATELY; AND SO, WHAT WITH ONE THING AND
+ANOTHER, I'VE GROWN RATHER FOND OF MY OWN SOCIETY."
+
+_Jones_. "EPICURE!"]
+
+ * * * * *
+
+TO A PHEASANT.
+
+A SPORTSMANLIKE(?) SONG FOR SEPTEMBER.
+
+AIR--"_You are Queen of my Heart To-night_."
+
+ I Stand in the copses sighing
+ As the cruel hours creep by,
+ And I see you slowly flying
+ Above the trees on high.
+ Your wondrous wealth, of feather
+ Has weaved a subtle spell,
+ And I softly wonder whether
+ You'd really taste as well.
+ For my hand is fairly steady
+ Though my heart is beating fast,
+ Oh, tell me that you too are ready
+ To make this hour your last.
+ For repentance may come when we're sober,
+ Let's seize on the chance while we may;
+ Then why should we wait till October?
+ Oh! Why not be shot to-day?
+ Oh! tell me why, why should I remember
+ With a thought of wild alarm,
+ That all through the month of sweet September
+ You should be free from harm.
+ Why, why does your beauty enslave me,
+ As it does, you're bound to allow
+ Oh! say but the word that will save me,
+ And tell me to shoot you now.
+ For my heart is wildly beating
+ (As it's often done before),
+ And the moments madly fleeting
+ Are going to come never more.
+ For repentance may come when we're sober,
+ Let's seize on the chance while we may,
+ Then why should we wait till October?
+ Oh! Why not be shot to-day?
+
+ * * * * *
+
+"THE GRATUITOUS OPINION."
+
+(_A STORY FOR THE LONG VACATION_.)
+
+The Eminent Lawyer was about to return to his private address, when
+there was a knock at the door of his Chambers. He attended to the
+summons himself, and found facing him an elderly and carefully dressed
+individual.
+
+"That some of my suburban neighbours desire the information, must be
+my excuse for troubling you," said the visitor.
+
+"Nay, do not apologise," returned the Eminent Q.C., "it is my
+pleasantest duty to give legal tips or applications to anybody. It is
+not altogether lucrative, as I deliver them for nothing, but then on
+the other hand, they are suitable for insertion in the papers, and
+that is a comforting consideration. What can I do for you?"
+
+[Illustration]
+
+"I have to ask you on behalf of my suburban neighbours," continued the
+visitor, "whether there is any principle which is accepted by Judges
+to regulate their decisions in cases where drunkenness seems to be the
+incentive of crime?"
+
+"I shall only be too glad to find a solution to a problem which
+appears one of great difficulty--the more especially as certain
+inhabitants of the suburbs are so deeply interested in the subject. It
+seems to me that some Judges think one way and some another."
+
+"That is strange," murmured the visitor. "Cannot their Lordships come
+to a common conclusion?"
+
+"I fear not," replied the Eminent Counsel, with a mournful smile. "It
+is merely a question of opinion. However, I take it that one would
+be perfectly safe to commit a murder under the influence of _delirium
+tremens_."
+
+"I am infinitely obliged to you for the information," said the
+visitor, "as now I know what to do."
+
+"You are not homicidal, I trust!" exclaimed the Lawyer, jumping up
+from his chair, and taking protection behind a desk. "I have the
+greatest possible objection to homicidal clients."
+
+"Be under no apprehension," was the reply. "I have a strong desire to
+shorten the life of a certain person, but have not the nerve to do it.
+If I ever succeed, will it be a case deserving capital punishment?"
+
+The Lawyer pondered a moment, and then replied. "I have no wish
+to offer my counsel; but, as you have exhausted my time for
+consideration, I would propose that you should try the matter for
+yourself. Become intoxicated, put yourself within the clutches of the
+law, and then see whether his Lordship will assume the black cap."
+
+"You are very good," returned the would-be homicide, "but I have
+one difficulty. When I make up my mind to remove a person by
+unconventional means (for choice, a carving-knife), and consume the
+necessary amount of alcohol to insure intoxication--"
+
+"Yes," interjected the Lawyer, who had now opened the outer door.
+
+"I find, on reaching intoxication, that I have entirely forgotten the
+identity of the man I have marked for my victim. Then I have got to
+grow sober before I can remember who it is. Annoying, isn't it?"
+
+And, wishing the Eminent Counsel a pleasant holiday, the visitor
+disappeared into the Inner Temple.
+
+ * * * * *
+
+[Illustration: AT THE SOUTH SEA-SIDE.]
+
+ * * * * *
+
+THE HAT TO THE PARASOL.
+
+(_A SCHERZO IN NOBS AND STICKS._)
+
+[Illustration]
+
+ Reflection polished of highbred
+ And unreflecting graces,
+ I scintillate o'er STREPHON's head
+ At gala, rout or races;
+ Mine is the black but comely blend,
+ And mine the crowning touches
+ That so demurely recommend
+ The dandy to the duchess.
+
+ Out on thee, cruel Parasol,
+ Of lace, the pearl, and satin;
+ And glinting like a fairy doll
+ With many a burnished patin;
+ Cool, charming as the dainty dame
+ Who twirls thy coromandel;
+ Thou flauntest proudly since thy name,
+ Like hers, can boast its handle!
+
+ The cynosure of wondering _beaux_,
+ I boast a soul above thee;
+ No fate can mar my calm repose,
+ Or make me cease to love thee;
+ Supreme above the common tile,
+ My own affronts unheeding,
+ I bow and compliment and smile,
+ The Chesterfield of breeding.
+
+ Out on thee, trinket idly swayed!
+ Could any courtier dare see,
+ Through such perfections so displayed,
+ The mere "_Belle Dame sans merci_"?
+ Could man believe a thing so soft,
+ So framed for gentle passion,
+ Might wound, and wound not once but oft
+ The jaunty glass of fashion?
+
+ Yet sooth it is; and here I stand
+ A martyr to my tenets--
+ That orthodoxy smooth and grand
+ Of LINCOLN's fane and BENNETT's;
+ Unruffled once and unperplexed,
+ Collapsing now like jelly,
+ And but a sermon on the text
+ _Sic transit lux capelli_.
+
+ I who have braved our fitful climes
+ And laughed when tempest drenches,
+ And shaken off the dust that grimes
+ Pews, cushioned stalls and benches,
+ Survived the counterblasting Row,
+ And Summer gales that roar so--
+ I ne'er imagined such a foe
+ Could trounce me to a torso.
+
+ * * * * *
+
+THE POTATO AND THE HEPTARCHY.
+
+(_A SENSIBLE SONG FOR THE SILLY SEASON._)
+
+ ["Even the Potato and the Heptarchy will not leave us
+ perfectly equipped."--_The Daily News on "Why Young Men Don't
+ Marry."_]
+
+ The Tater and the Heptarchy
+ Were walking hand-in-hand;
+ They wept like "first-night" Stalls to see
+ The folly of the land;
+ "If fools would not talk fiddlededee,"
+ They said "it _would_ be grand!"
+
+ "If modest maids with towzled mops
+ On _you_ and _me_ were clear,
+ Do you suppose," the Tater said,
+ "More men would wed each year?"
+ "I doubt it," said the Heptarchy--
+ "They only mean to sneer!
+
+ "'O Maidens, come and cook for us!'
+ They--shamming love--beseech.
+ 'Oh, tell us about Saxon times!
+ The course of history teach!'
+ But what they really want is 'tin;'
+ A thumping share for each.
+
+ "A girl may cook like any _chef_,
+ And know all HALLAM through,
+ May be a dab at darning socks,
+ Or making Irish stew;
+ But what young cubs care for is cash,
+ And not for me _or_ you.
+
+ "They want to lead an easy life,
+ And have good weeds and wine.
+ Without these luxuries, a wife
+ They scornfully decline.
+ For _Benedick's_ life of manly strife
+ The fops are far too fine."
+
+ "The Season's come," the Tater said,
+ "To write of many things:
+ Of frocks--and socks--and needle-work--
+ And babes--and bonnet-strings;
+ But all the lot talk utter rot.
+ Let the fools have their flings!
+
+ "Their jibes at girls, their games, their curls,
+ Their wastefulness, their waist,
+ Their yearnings to hook Dukes and Earls,
+ Their matrimonial haste,
+ Are the crude chat of cubs and churls,
+ And in the vilest taste.
+
+ "But when they prate of you and me,
+ As the two gifts _they_ want,
+ Say Classic lore and Cookery
+ Are things for which _they_ pant;
+ Believe me, my dear Heptarchy,
+ They plumb profoundest Cant!"
+
+ * * * * *
+
+SEA-SIDE ILLS.
+
+(_BY OUR MAN OVER-BORED._)
+
+SEA-SIDYLL--THE PIER BAND.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+ 'Tis the Band of the Corporation--
+ And it plays on that body's pier;
+ And one knows by the way
+ That the instruments play,
+ That the talent is not too dear.
+ And the trombone is not too clear;
+ When it has to play quick
+ It is moistful and thick,
+ For the trombone is fond of beer--
+ It is nurtured on pots of beer.
+
+ 'Tis the Band of the Corporation--
+ And the cornet is fat just here;
+ And he's short, and bull-necked.
+ When you come to reflect
+ How he wastes all his wind, 'tis queer
+ That the man should be stout just here!
+ But the noise of the throat
+ In the solos denote
+ That the cornet is fond of beer--
+ It's been brought up on pots of beer.
+
+ 'Tis the Band of the Corporation--
+ And I know why that Band is queer,
+ For I see in the face
+ Of the trombone a trace
+ Of the blackguard who blows it near
+ Me in Town, at most times of year!
+ And I mark, too, the face
+ Of that beastly big-bass--
+ (Which has also been reared on beer)--
+ And I know, too, the face
+ Of that other disgrace,
+ The fat cornet! They've come down here--
+ They've been borrowed, and lent new gear!
+
+ But I know them of old,
+ And in spite of the gold
+ Round the hats, with the peaks just here,
+ I can see who they are while near.
+ They wear bowlers in Town,
+ And frock-coats which are brown,
+ On account of their age--or beer!
+ For they play to the public for beer;
+ For they stand and they blow
+ On the kerb in a row,
+ And then go to the public for beer!
+ And so this is the Band down here!
+
+ * * * * *
+
+"THREE CHOIRS FESTIVAL."--Curious coincidence, if true, that when Miss
+JESSIE KING was charmingly giving the contralto song, "_While my Watch
+I'm Keeping_," a gentleman in the crowded audience suddenly put his
+hand to his waistcoat-pocket and exclaimed, "Good gracious! it's
+gone!" He will never forget the title of that song. The watch was off
+its guard.
+
+ * * * * *
+
+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 PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI, VOL.
+103, SEPTEMBER 17, 1892***
+
+
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+<h1>The Project Gutenberg eBook, Punch, or the London Charivari, Vol. 103,
+September 17, 1892, by Various, Edited by F. C. Burnand</h1>
+<pre>
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at <a href = "https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a></pre>
+<p>Title: Punch, or the London Charivari, Vol. 103, September 17, 1892</p>
+<p>Author: Various</p>
+<p>Release Date: March 12, 2005 [eBook #15332]</p>
+<p>Language: English</p>
+<p>Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1</p>
+<p>***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI, VOL. 103, SEPTEMBER 17, 1892***</p>
+<br /><br /><h3>E-text prepared by Malcolm Farmer, William Flis,<br />
+ and the Project Gutenberg Online Distributed Proofreading Team</h3><br /><br />
+<hr class="full" />
+ <h1>PUNCH,<br />
+ OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.</h1>
+
+ <h2>Vol. 103.</h2>
+ <hr class="full" />
+
+ <h2>September 17, 1892.</h2>
+ <hr class="full" />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="page121" id="page121"></a>[pg 121]</span>
+<h2>HEARING HIMSELF.</h2>
+
+<h4>(<i>Mysterious Mem. from a Hawarden Note-Book.</i>)</h4>
+
+<p>Exceedingly kind and flattering of MAX MÜLLER! "I hope there
+are but few here present who have never enjoyed the privilege of
+listening to Mr. GLADSTONE." Ha! ha! He little thought there
+was <i>one</i> there who had <i>not</i> "enjoyed that privilege." Have enjoyed
+most privileges in my time, but never that of "hearing myself as
+others hear me"&mdash;more or less. "Unavoidable absence of Mr.
+GLADSTONE!" Ho! ho! Then my disguise <i>was</i> perfect. Get myself
+up as a Liberal Unionist, with wig and eye-glass. Not likely anybody would recognise
+me in <i>that</i> rig.</p>
+
+<p>Rather enjoyed myself&mdash;and my paper, "Ph&oelig;nician Elements in the Homeric
+Poems." Most seductive title! Such a <i>popular</i> touch about
+it! Think I shall have it printed as a "leaflet" for distribution among Workmen's
+Clubs and Radical Associations. Might conciliate those well-meaning but illogical
+Eight-Hour Men. Wonder if KEIRHARDIE would like a copy. What more
+nicely calculated to cheer the scant leisure of Labour?</p>
+
+<p>Funny to hear my own sinuous sentences coming back to me from mouth of another.
+Not quite sure MAX is so "fascinating in his voice, and so persuasive
+in his delivery" as&mdash;but no matter. Can't say&mdash;as MAX did&mdash;"I felt myself
+carried away, and convinced almost against my will." Not at all! Wonder what he
+meant by that? Why "against his will"? That's what Liberal Unionists, and other
+preposterous and illogical opponents of mine say in House, when they compliment
+me on my "eloquence," <i>and then vote against me!</i> Absurd! Wish they'd
+drop their compliments and vote straight.</p>
+
+<p>"Small and exotic contribution" to Oriental Congress! Neat description of paper
+running to nearly four
+columns of <i>Times</i>. "Intense sentiment of nationality, which led
+the Greeks of later days to covet the title of Autochthones." Wonder
+if that reminded MAX, or anyone else, of <i>another</i> race with "an
+intense sentiment of nationality," and a passionate love of the land
+from which they sprang. Wonder whether, if Nationalists were
+to call themselves "Auctochthones" instead of Home-Rulers, we
+should get along better? Must consult JUSTIN on this point.
+Should have to teach some of them to <i>pronounce</i> their new name,
+though. "Autochthones," spoken in wrath, with a rich brogue, after
+dinner, would, I should think, beat Phillippopolis, or "Ri' l'il, ti'
+li'l Isl'l" hollow.</p>
+
+<p><i>Anax andr&#333;n</i>, too, might be useful. Say, as substitute for that
+everlasting G.O.M., of which I admit I'm heartily sick, Lord of
+Men! <i>Not</i> King of Men, of course. LABBY might kick at latter.
+"Nothing can be simpler than the meaning of the two words."
+Exactly. Must get HARCOURT to popularise these. Applied to
+AGAMEMNON. Why not to "strong men" who live <i>after</i> AGAMEMNON?
+"Evidence from extraneous sources of connection between
+title of <i>Anax andr&#333;n</i> and great Egyptian Empire." Aha! I may yet
+have to play the <i>Anax andr&#333;n</i> in Egypt as before. Allegory&mdash;I mean
+<i>Anax andr&#333;n</i> on banks of Nile! Good&mdash;and not a Malapropism,
+whatever WOLSELEY may say. "Title of <i>Anax andr&#333;n</i> descendible"
+(good word, "descendible") "from father to son, and accorded in
+the poems to personages altogether secondary, <i>viz.</i>, EUMELOS and
+EUPHETES." Wonder what my EUMELOS&mdash;HERBERT&mdash;will say to that!</p>
+
+<p>Enjoyed it much whilst MAX was "mouthing out" (as Mrs.
+BROWNING says) my eulogy of that man of "Ph&oelig;nician stamp,"
+the "universal ODYSSEUS," who expressed the many-sided, the all-accomplished man;
+the <i>polutropos</i>, the
+<i>polumetis</i>, the <i>tlemon</i>,
+the <i>polutlas</i>, the <i>polumekanos</i>, the <i>poikilometis</i>,
+the <i>poluphron</i>,
+the <i>daïphron</i>, the <i>talasiphron.</i> (What a peck of p's!) In battle
+never foiled! In council supreme! His oratory like the snow-flakes of the winter
+storm. Superbly representative Ph&oelig;nician! "But over and above this universality
+of ODYSSEUS in the arts of life, he bears the Ph&oelig;nician stamp
+in what may be termed his craft." Aha! The "Old Parliamentary Hand" of his period
+plainly. Wonder if MAX thought of <i>that</i>! Hellas and Ph&oelig;nicia combined! As a
+Statesman of classical culture, commercial instincts <i>and</i> craft,
+what a shining success ODYSSEUS might have been in these days!</p>
+
+<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza">
+<p>He went into the Cyclops' cave</p>
+<p class="i2">To see what he could spy out;</p>
+<p>He slew his oxen, stole his sheep,</p>
+<p class="i2">And then he poked his eye out,</p>
+ </div> </div>
+
+<p>as the ribald doggerelist has it. Sounds a little "predatory," perhaps, as SALISBURY
+would say. But quite capable of being "spiritualised" into a sound Liberal policy,
+directed against the purblind Poluphemos of Property and Privilege.</p>
+
+<p>On the whole, I had a high old time among
+the Orientalists. But when discussion ensued, I longed to throw off
+my disguise and rush, Achilles-like, into the fray. But MAX might
+have thought that inconsistent with my "colossal humanity;" so,
+very unwillingly, I refrained.</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p>UP ALOFT.&mdash;The most elevated title in the Peerage, and belonging
+to the upperest part of the Upper House, is "Lord MOUNTGARRET."
+There can be but one higher, and that will have to be created in the
+person of a future "Lord TOPOCHIMNEPOT." Though, perhaps, the
+title of "Lord COWLEY," if it were altered into Lord CHIMNEPOT-COWL-Y,
+would be the highest of all.</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p>ANGLICE-FRENCHIE EXCLAMATION (<i>on any of the recent many
+showery days when, after an interval of ten minutes, the next bucketful
+descended</i>).&mdash;"<i>POUR une autre fois!</i>"</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width:70%;"><a href="images/121.png"><img width="100%" src="images/121.png" alt="NATURE'S SECRETS." /></a><h3>NATURE'S SECRETS.</h3>
+
+<p>"HERE ARE SOME NEW LAID EGGS FOR YOU, GEORGIE!"</p>
+
+<p>"OH, THANKS! HOW NICE! I HAVEN'T SEEN A NEW LAID EGG FOR WEEKS! HOW
+DO YOU MANAGE TO GET THEM? OH, OF COURSE&mdash;YOU'VE GOT <i>AN INCUBATOR</i>!"</p></div>
+
+<hr />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="page122" id="page122"></a>[pg 122]</span>
+
+<h2>INNS AND OUTS.</h2>
+
+<h3 class="sc">No. III.&mdash;The Porter.</h3>
+
+<p>I had intended to have written, this week about "Loggosh"&mdash;including that mysterious
+canvass hand-box which contains all that a foreigner cares to carry about with
+him by day, and often pillows him when travelling by night; but the very
+mention of luggage brings me back to the Porter. I abominate him. I am "one
+who has suffered." So here goes!</p>
+
+<p>"Imposing," best describes the Hôtel porter; a very Grand Hôtel has at
+least two of these impositions&mdash;the House Porter and the Omnibus Porter. The
+latter you only see twice in your Hôtel existence, but he is the most futile and the
+deadliest fraud of the two.</p>
+
+<p>This Porter is part and
+parcel of that horrible deep-red-plush nuisance, the Hôtel-omnibus. He and it
+are inseparables, and make up a sort of Centaur between them. Once outside the
+Railway-station, I am besieged by a babel of these Porter-omnibuses&mdash;"Bear
+Hôtel, Sor;" "Grand Hôtel, Sor!"&mdash;This, from a very dilapidated specimen, which,
+on inspection, turns out to be "Grand Hôtel Du Lac;" a pirate porter-omnibus in
+fact; at last I find <i>The</i> Grand Hôtel vehicle, and functionary. The latter is
+of gigantic stature; quite a
+"chucker-out;" in a uniform between that of a German bandsman
+and a Salvation Captain&mdash;"Certinly, Sar. Dis Grand Hôtel; I see
+your Loggosh, Sar; gif me se empfangschein." "Do you speak
+English?" I retort.&mdash;"Certinly; spik Ingleese&mdash;empfangschein!"&mdash;"Empfangschein"
+baffles me, and I am about to hand my keys to
+the monster, when a good-natured Courier explains that it signifies
+the luggage-receipt.</p>
+
+<p>Away ambles the Porter, leaving me with that orphaned sort of
+feeling which a luggageless Englishman experiences; it is pouring
+cats and dogs; I am dead beat; I creep into the dark omnibus. I
+find myself quite alone. I wait impatiently&mdash;a quarter of an hour&mdash;twenty-five
+minutes&mdash;still no Porter; I am famished; to distract
+myself, I peer through the door, whence I can discern the messy
+vista of the railway-station in the rain; it's lucky I do so; for there
+I behold my own portmanteau, with its huge purple stripe, being
+hauled away on the back of a railway-man, followed by an alien
+Hôtel Porter, <i>not mine</i>, doing nothing: they are always doing
+nothing. To rush out indignantly, seize my box, defy the brigands,
+and carry it back myself, seemed the work of an instant. Drenched
+and gasping, I find myself once more outside; the Porter of the
+Grand Hôtel Du Lac is at my heels, furious and impertinent. "Dis,
+<i>not</i> your loggosh: other shentleman's loggosh." He seized the portmanteau,
+and a struggle would certainly have ensued, when my own
+Hôtel Porter appeared on the scene triumphant, with a regiment of
+station-men carrying one small tin box. "What you do, Sar; see
+<i>here</i>, your loggosh!" The tin box belonged to a commercial-traveller,
+who was bound for the Hôtel Du Lac.</p>
+
+<p>I am too exhausted to curse, and leave the rival Porters to
+fight it out themselves, after paying off the ragged regiment of
+Station-men. On the drive to the Hôtel, the Porter tries to propitiate me.</p>
+
+<p>"Pity shentlemans like you, Sar, fetch de loggosh. I tell you,
+better leave it to me, Sar. You see, <i>I</i> get your loggosh. Dat bizley
+Porter of De Hôtel Du Lac, he change de empfangschein; but I
+sweep it from him, and bring to de 'Bus"&mdash;"'Bus" was good&mdash;and then he laughed!</p>
+
+<div class="figright" style="width:55%;"><a href="images/122.png"><img width="100%" src="images/122.png" alt="'Pity shentlemans like you, Sar, retchistar de loggosh.'" /></a>"Pity shentlemans like you, Sar, retchistar de loggosh."</div>
+
+<p>I never saw the brute again until the time of my departure;
+I had taken a carriage to the Station this time, thinking thereby to
+avoid the Porter-omnibus. I had registered my traps myself, and
+was looking out for some one to carry them to the den in which
+you are penned till the train arrives, when, lo! the chucker-out!
+smiling and bowing as if he had never seen me before&mdash;"Is
+better I retchistar de loggosh, Sar; pity shentlemans like you, Sar,
+retchistar de loggosh."</p>
+
+<p>I turn on my heel with
+an imprecation which "Ingleese-spikers" understand. But he still waits there,
+smiling, and expecting to be tipped, Let him wait. So much for the Omnibus-Porter&mdash;at
+once the Gamp and Undertaker of my Grand Hôtel existence.</p>
+
+<p>The House-Porter is of equal size, and equal uselessness. He sits in the
+hall, and always rises and salutes when you pass. If you want anything, he
+waits till you have got it, and then offers to procure it for you. If you ask to
+be called early, he chalks something on a slate, and you are safe not to be disturbed
+until you rise in your wrath and ring violently. Should you be in
+a town, and wish to secure theatre-tickets, he becomes more active; he implores
+you not to resort to "De Boxing Office, vare you pay premiums, you see;" but
+he has one or two left for sale. Should you be weak enough to yield, you will
+find that the worst seats at the highest prices are yours; and, if you remonstrate
+next day, he will sigh wearily, and remark,&mdash;"Is acheslant places, Sar; but
+was Gala Night, you see,"&mdash;an enigma, which those
+who run may read. He is always offering to do something, and
+doing <i>you</i> instead. He is absolutely unnecessary, for there is
+seldom anyone in a Grand Hôtel to "chuck out," and this would
+be his only justification.</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<h2>THE "BLOWER" BURST UP!</h2>
+
+<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza">
+<p>The "Blower" came down, like the braggart he was,</p>
+<p>And of winning the fight was peculiarly "poz;"</p>
+<p>And the voice of his backers was loud in their glee;&mdash;</p>
+<p>"We shall lick him in two rounds&mdash;or certainly three!"</p>
+ </div><div class="stanza">
+<p>Like the "Champion Slugger," in trunks of bright green,</p>
+<p>The "Big Fellow" at Eight fifty-two might be seen:</p>
+<p>Like a truculent Titan, blind, baffled, and blown,</p>
+<p>At Ten thirty-seven the brute was o'erthrown.</p>
+ </div><div class="stanza">
+<p>For CORBETT smote fiercely, and CORBETT fought fast,</p>
+<p>And the bullying bounder was beaten at last;</p>
+<p>And the cheeks of the coarse woman-puncher were chill,</p>
+<p>He rolled over, and struggled to rise, and lay still.</p>
+ </div><div class="stanza">
+<p>And there stood his foe with his nostrils all wide,</p>
+<p>And the shouts of his backers rolled on in their pride.</p>
+<p>The swells of the Ring and the stars of the Turf</p>
+<p>Surged round like the waves of the storm-beaten surf.</p>
+ </div><div class="stanza">
+<p>And there lay the "Blower," distorted and pale,</p>
+<p>With the blood on his brow where the blows fell like hail.</p>
+<p><i>His</i> backers were silent, he lay there alone,</p>
+<p>His mawleys unlifted, his trumpet unblown.</p>
+ </div><div class="stanza">
+<p>And the "Sports" of the South are all loud in their wail.</p>
+<p>But <i>Punch</i>, who hates bullying brutes, can but hail</p>
+<p>That smart Californian's pluck, skill, and strength,</p>
+<p>Who has pricked the big SULLIVAN bladder&mdash;at length!</p>
+ </div> </div>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p>"FONS ET ORIGO."&mdash;As to London Water "seek Wells," that is
+if you wish to avoid unpleasant seq-uels. "<i>Don't</i> leave Wells
+alone" is our motto, meaning "Sir SPENCER" of that ilk, who has a
+deal worth hearing to say on this subject.</p>
+
+<hr />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="page123" id="page123"></a>[pg 123]</span>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width:100%;"><a href="images/123.png"><img width="100%" src="images/123.png" alt="TWO SIDES TO A QUESTION." /></a><h3>TWO SIDES TO A QUESTION.</h3>
+
+<p><i>Major Podmore</i>. "CONGRATULATE YOU, DEAR BOY!"</p>
+
+<p><i>Disappointed Cricketer</i>. "WHAT DO YOU MEAN? BOWLED FIRST BALL&mdash;NEVER GOT A RUN!"</p>
+
+<p><i>Major Podmore</i>. "QUITE SO, DEAR BOY. BUT IN THIS HOT WEATHER&mdash;80° IN THE
+SHADE&mdash;SO MUCH BETTER, IF YOU CAN, TO TAKE THINGS COOLLY!"</p></div>
+
+<hr />
+
+<h2>A ROUNDABOUT RAMBLE.</h2>
+
+<h4>(<i>A Fact Founded on Fiction.</i>)</h4>
+
+<p>The sharp, bright little Traveller made his way to the Cabinet of
+M. CARNOT, and disturbed him at work.</p>
+
+<p>"Do you know, M. Le Président," said he, "that the Russians
+are in secret treaty with the English, and the Russo-French Alliance
+is all nonsense&mdash;the most unreliable of broken reeds?"</p>
+
+<p>"Well, no," replied CARNOT, "I have not heard anything of the
+sort; and, if anyone should be up in it&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>But the Traveller did not want to hear the rest, for he was once
+again on his road, telling everyone he met the disquieting intelligence,
+and, consequently, the French people were greatly troubled.</p>
+
+<p>He was soon in Berlin. He did not ask for an interview with the KAISER, but took one.</p>
+
+<p>"Your Royal and Imperial Majesty," said he, "are you aware
+that Italy is in secret accord with France, and that the Triple Alliance
+is a sham, and that the cry <i>À Berlin!</i> may be renewed at any moment?"</p>
+
+<p>"Well, no," said the Emperor, "I have not heard this; and if
+anyone should know anything about it, I fancy&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>But the Traveller did not wait for the KAISER to finish the sentence,
+but was off again, telling everyone he met the disquieting
+intelligence. And, consequently, the German people were greatly troubled.</p>
+
+<p>Then the Traveller obtained admission, in the same unceremonious
+fashion, to the apartment occupied by the Emperor of AUSTRIA.</p>
+
+<p>"King of HUNGARY," said he, "are you aware that you cannot
+possibly rely upon your German neighbour, because the KAISER has
+a secret understanding with the CZAR, by which the Principalities
+will be included in Russian territory, and the Rhine secured from French invasion?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, I have not heard it," was the answer; "and, if it had
+been the case, I imagine that&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>But again the Traveller left without waiting for the completion of
+the sentence, and went his way telling everyone he met the disquieting
+intelligence. And consequently, the Austro-Hungarian peoples were greatly troubled.</p>
+
+<p>And now the Traveller was in the presence of the Emperor of ALL
+THE RUSSIAS. Again he had obtained admission without the preliminary
+of an official introduction.</p>
+
+<p>"Little Father," said the Traveller, "are you aware that your
+youthful relative in Berlin is coquetting with France and England,
+and you may find the whole of Europe marshalled against you?"</p>
+
+<p>"Well, no I have not heard it," returned the CZAR; "and I really think&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>But the Traveller never learned what the CZAR really thought, for
+he was away before His Imperial Majesty had completed the sentence.
+And as he went away, after his usual fashion, he spread the
+disquieting intelligence, and consequently the Russian people were greatly troubled.</p>
+
+<p>And now the Traveller was in Cairo. He presented himself before
+the KHEDIVE without waiting for the English adviser.</p>
+
+<p>"Your Highness, do you know that the British Army of occupation
+is on the eve of departure?" said he.</p>
+
+<p>"What, in spite of Lord ROSEBERY going to the Foreign Office!"
+exclaimed the SULTAN's vassal, in a tone of considerable astonishment.</p>
+
+<p>"Of course," replied the visitor. "Everything was settled long
+ago, and before Christmas there won't be a red-coat in Egypt!"</p>
+
+<p>"Indeed," returned His Highness, "I certainly have not heard it, and I fancy&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>But the Traveller departed without ascertaining the drift of the
+KHEDIVE's fancies, and on his road, strictly according to precedent,
+spread the disquieting intelligence, and consequently the Egyptian
+people were greatly troubled.</p>
+
+<p>And now the Traveller was once more back in London. He entered
+Capel Court and rested himself. He said nothing. It was unnecessary,
+for he was well known, and his stories had already been discounted.</p>
+
+<p>"Ah, my little friend RUMOUR," said Mr. BULLBEAR; "you have
+come back again! And now you can rest for awhile, until we want
+you after the next account."</p>
+
+<p>So RUMOUR is waiting in the Stock Exchange until he is wanted after the next account!</p>
+
+<hr />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="page124" id="page124"></a>[pg 124]</span>
+
+<h2>LETTERS TO ABSTRACTIONS.</h2>
+
+<h3>No. XIV.&mdash;TO SWAGGER.</h3>
+
+<p>I approach you with fear and trembling. Somewhere in the Cave
+of the Winds you have your home. The ancient Authors, to their
+discredit, make no mention of your existence there, but the fact is
+as I have stated it. The East wind blows into your gaping mouth,
+and forth you go, puffing and swelling with an alien importance, to
+do your hateful work. You hover over a second-rate Statesman,
+who has attracted the applause of a Party by an opportune speech,
+compiled by the industry of a humble Secretary. From that
+moment his nature changes. Though he may have been simple and
+beloved, yet, through you, he shall become pompous, and abhorred.
+His fellow-creatures are thenceforth mere material for his trampling
+feet; he swells into regions to which no criticism can reach; he
+covers himself in a triple hide of vanity, ostentation,
+and disdain; he hails himself continually
+as the unaided Saviour of his country, and
+dies in the odour of braggadocio, without a genuine friend to mourn his loss.</p>
+
+<div class="figright" style="width:28%;"><a href="images/124.png"><img width="100%" src="images/124.png" alt="" /></a></div>
+
+<p>Or, again, you select some common, smug-faced
+Clergyman, capable, no doubt, if he were left
+alone, of guiding his flock quietly into the strait
+paths of goodness and humility. You turn him
+into a loud-voiced Clerical quack, vending his
+wretched patent medicines of salvation in a
+style of offensive denunciation that would have
+ruined a host of Dulcamaras, trained in the
+insinuating methods of the ordinary trade. But
+on this the Clergyman thrives, and weak women
+fall prostrate before his roaring insincerity.</p>
+
+<p>Nor do you neglect the young. Heavens! I
+remember I was once favoured with the confidences
+of WILLIAM JOSKINS BACON, an Undergraduate,
+generally known to his intimates as
+"Side of Bacon." I shudder to recollect how
+that amazing creature discoursed to me about
+his popularity, his influence, his surprising
+deeds both of valour and of discretion. With
+one nod&mdash;and, as he spoke, he gave me an illustration
+of his Olympian method&mdash;he had awed
+his Head-master&mdash;a present ornament of the
+Bench of Bishops&mdash;into a terrified silence, from
+which he recovered only to bless the name of
+JOSKINS, and hold him up as a pattern to his
+schoolfellows. At a single phrase of scorn from
+those redoubtable lips, his College Tutor had
+withered into acquiescence, and had never dared
+to refuse him an <i>exeat</i> from that day forth. "I
+can't help pitying the beggar," said JOSKINS&mdash;"but
+I had to do it. You must make these
+fellows feel you're their master, or they'll never
+give you a moment's peace. Halloa!" he
+continued, as a brawny athlete sauntered into the room, "how's
+the boat going, BULLEN? Not very well, eh? Well, remember I'm
+ready to lend you a hand, and pull you through when things get
+desperate." The smile with which this offer was received had no
+effect upon my companion. He took it rather as a tribute to the
+subtle humour which, as he believed, lay lurking in his simplest
+utterances. "Always make 'em laugh," he observed, with pride.
+"It keeps up the spirits of these poor devils of rowing-men; and old
+BULLEN knows I'm all there when I'm wanted." But I had heard
+enough, and departed from him, feeling as though a steam-roller
+had passed over my moral nature, and flattened out my self-respect.</p>
+
+<p>Then there was CHEPSTOWE, the poet. I am old enough to remember
+him; and it pleases me sometimes to call back to my mind
+this paltry and forgotten little literary <i>Bombastes</i>. As I write, I
+have before me some of the reviews that greeted his boisterous invasion
+of the regions of song. "Mr. CHEPSTOWE," said one, "has
+struck a note which is destined to vibrate so long as the English
+language is spoken in civilised lands. He is no ordinary rhymester,
+struggling feebly in the bonds of convention. With a bold and
+masterful on-rush, he cleaves his way unhesitatingly to the very
+heart of things, tears it out, and lays it, palpitating and bleeding,
+before the eyes of humanity. We have only space for a few lines
+from the magnificent <i>Ode to Actuality</i>:&mdash;</p>
+
+<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza">
+<p>"'Prone in the caverns of the vasty deep</p>
+<p class="i10">I lay,</p>
+<p>And slept not, though I seemed to sleep.</p>
+<p class="i10">The day</p>
+<p>Pierced not with sullen eyes of pallid scorn</p>
+<p class="i10">The dark,</p>
+<p>Unplumbed abyss, where, girt with red limbs torn.</p>
+<p class="i10">The shark</p>
+<p>Sported, and eyeless monsters crawled in slime&mdash;'</p>
+ </div> </div>
+
+<p>"No extract can, however, convey an adequate idea of this grand
+poem, on which, as on the bed rock, Mr. CHEPSTOWE's fame is
+established for ever, SHAKSPEARE himself might have been proud
+to have written it." I may remark, parenthetically, that in
+his "Ode" CHEPSTOWE pictured himself as a sort of animate skeleton:&mdash;</p>
+
+<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza">
+<p>"Sockets where light once shone grinned emptiness;</p>
+<p class="i10">The teeth</p>
+<p>Were fallen from the gaping, gumless jaws; nathless</p>
+<p class="i10">Beneath</p>
+<p>The cold smooth skull, the brain retained her throne."</p>
+ </div> </div>
+
+<p>Amid these uncomfortable surroundings CHEPSTOWE described
+himself as penetrated with raptures of fierce joy at having shaken
+himself free from the world and its puling insincerities to dwell
+amid "Unpitying shapes of death's dread twin despair," where
+"Rapine and slaughter raged, and none rebuked." Another reviewer
+observed that "The soul of ARCHER's,
+the tavern-brawler's glorious victim, KIT MARLOWE,
+has taken again a habitation of clay.
+She speaks trumpet-tongued by the mouth of
+Mr. CHEPSTOWE. We note in these outpourings
+of dramatic passion an audacity, an energy,
+an enthusiasm, that are calculated to shake
+Peckham Rye to its centre, and make Balham
+tremble in its ridiculous carpet slippers. Who&mdash;to
+take only one example&mdash;but Mr. CHEPSTOWE or MARLOWE could have written thus
+of 'Rapture'?&mdash;</p>
+
+<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza">
+<p>'Not in the mouths of prating men who deem</p>
+<p>That God dwells in the senseless clay they mould,</p>
+<p>Who live their little lives and die their deaths,</p>
+<p>Lapped in a smug respectability;</p>
+<p>Who never dreamt of breaking puny laws</p>
+<p>Formed for a puny race of grovellers;</p>
+<p>But in the blood-stained track of flaming swords,</p>
+<p>Wielded by knotty arms in Man's despite,</p>
+<p>Or on the wings of crashing battle-balls,</p>
+<p>Bone-shattering dealers of a thousand wounds,</p>
+<p>The roaring heralds of indignant God,</p>
+<p>There rapture dwells, and there I too would dwell.'</p>
+ </div> </div>
+
+<p>"Here is power that would furnish forth a whole
+legion of the poetasters who crawl through our
+effete literature!" But I cannot pursue these
+memories. They are too painful. For who
+speaks of CHEPSTOWE now? Who cares to
+cumber his bookshelves with the volumes in
+which this inflated arm-chair prophet of the
+tin pots delivered his shrieking message? His
+very name has flickered out; and when I spoke
+of him the other day, I was asked, by a person
+of some intelligence, if I referred to CHEPSTOWE
+who had just made 166 playing cricket for the
+Gentlemen against the Players. Not even the
+lion and the lizard keep his courts, and yet
+JAMSHYD CHEPSTOWE gloried and drank deep in his day. He blustered
+through many editions, he bellowed his contempt at a shrinking
+world, he outraged conventionality, he swung himself by the aid of
+newly-fashioned metres to lofty peaks of poetic daring, and to-day
+the dust lies thick upon his books, and his name is confounded with
+that of an eminent cricket-player!</p>
+
+<p>My excellent SWAGGER, it was meanly done. If you meant to
+wipe him out so swiftly, why did you ever exalt him?</p>
+
+<p>Farewell for a space. I may have to write to you again.</p>
+
+<p class="author">Yours, DIOGENES ROBINSON.</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p>"USED UP."&mdash;Lord BRASSEY requested several papers last week
+to publish his denial as to having the finest collection of stamps in
+the world. His Lordship, it appears, "doesn't take the smallest interest
+in foreign stamps." Fortunate for Lord BRASSEY. There are
+some excellent people who can't get up any interest, or capital either,
+at all without a stamp of some sort. Lord BRASSEY wished it further
+known, that he was not a collector of curios, and had no curiosity of
+any kind. Lord BRASSEY must be a later edition of <i>L'Homme Blasé</i>,
+to whom the world was round like an indiarubber-ball and "nothing in it."</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p>"IN NUBIBUS."&mdash;If the new Sky-signs with which we are threatened,
+<i>viz.</i>, advertisements reflected in the clouds, become the fashion,
+the aspect of the heavens by daylight will be as delightful and
+artistic as are the walls of our hoardings and Railway-stations.
+The anthem of "<i>The Heavens are Telling</i>" will have to be adapted
+for large towns. Perhaps pictures may be projected on the nebulous
+back-ground. If so, some of our best Artists may not object to
+taking a good sum, and then having their work "Sky'd."</p>
+
+<hr />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="page125" id="page125"></a>[pg 125]</span>
+
+<h2>PHANTASMA-GORE-IA!</h2>
+
+<h4><i>Picturing the Various Modes of Melodramatic Murder</i>. (<i>By Our "Off-his"-Head Poet</i>.)</h4>
+
+<h3>No. I.&mdash;THE DAGGER MURDER.</h3>
+
+<div class="figright" style="width:30%;"><a href="images/125-1.png"><img width="100%" src="images/125-1.png" alt="The Dagger Murder." /></a></div>
+
+<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza">
+<p>They stand alone on the moonlit spot,&mdash;</p>
+<p class="i2">Sing Ho&mdash;ho! and Ha&mdash;ha! there!</p>
+<p>One is the villain, and one is not,</p>
+<p class="i2">But the heroine's father.</p>
+<p>They stand alone on the patch of light</p>
+<p>(Which comes from the left as well as right)&mdash;</p>
+<p>Oh, 'tis a glorious place and night</p>
+<p class="i2">For a Murder Scene! Rather!</p>
+ </div><div class="stanza">
+<p>They talk of deeds (of the parchment kind)&mdash;</p>
+<p class="i2">Sing Ha&mdash;ha! and Ho-ho! there!</p>
+<p>The heavy father, to reason blind,</p>
+<p class="i2">Has them with him to show there!</p>
+<p>The deeds relate to the old man's will;</p>
+<p>The villain wants them to pay a bill!</p>
+<p>The night is cold, and the night is still</p>
+<p class="i2">Let the music be slow there!</p>
+ </div><div class="stanza">
+<p>They stand alone in the pale-green light&mdash;</p>
+<p class="i2">Sing Hey&mdash;hey! and he&mdash;he! there!</p>
+<p>What is this flashing so keen and bright?</p>
+<p class="i2">What is this that I see there?</p>
+<p>Oh! deed of darkness in light descried!</p>
+<p>Oh! villain thrice damn'd that blade to hide,</p>
+<p>Right 'tween the arm on <i>the farther</i> side&mdash;</p>
+<p class="i2">Certain death when it be there!</p>
+ </div><div class="stanza">
+<p>They're still alone on the moonlit spot&mdash;</p>
+<p class="i2">Sing He&mdash;he! and Hey&mdash;hey! there!</p>
+<p>Though one is Standing,<a id="footnotetag1" name="footnotetag1"></a><a href="#footnote1"><sup>1</sup></a> and one is not,</p>
+<p class="i2">For <i>one's</i> cold as the clay there!</p>
+<p>The villain covers the dead man's stare&mdash;</p>
+<p>The corpse lies stiff in the limelight's glare!</p>
+<p>The act is done!&mdash;and for all I care,</p>
+<p class="i2">The dead body can stay there!</p>
+ </div> </div>
+
+<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote1" name="footnote1"></a><b>Footnote 1:</b><a href="#footnotetag1"> (return) </a><p>HERBERT.</p></blockquote>
+
+<hr />
+
+<h2>TO MY LUGGAGE-LABELS.</h2>
+
+<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza">
+<p>Wonderful pictures of purple and gold,</p>
+<p class="i2">Ultramarine, and vermilion, and bistre;</p>
+<p>Splendid inscriptions of hostels untold,</p>
+<p class="i2">Touching memorials breathing of "Mr.;"</p>
+<p>"Schweizerhof," "Bernerhof," "Hofs" by the score;</p>
+<p class="i2">Signs of the Bear and the Swan, and the Bellevue,</p>
+<p>Gasthaus, Albergo, Posada, galore&mdash;</p>
+<p class="i2">Beautiful wrecks, how I wish I could shelve you!</p>
+ </div><div class="stanza">
+<p>Visions of Venice&mdash;her stones and her smells!</p>
+<p class="i2">Whiffs of Cologne&mdash;aromatic mementos;</p>
+<p>Visiting cards, so to speak, of hotels;</p>
+<p class="i2">Como's, Granada's, Zermatt's and Sorrento's</p>
+<p>Ah! how ye cling to my boxes and bags,</p>
+<p class="i2">Glued with a pigment that baffles removal;</p>
+<p>Dogged adherents in dirt and in rags;</p>
+<p class="i2">Labels, receive my profane disapproval!</p>
+ </div><div class="stanza">
+<p>Much as I prized you, when roaming afield,</p>
+<p class="i2">Loved you, when Life was metheglyn and skittles,</p>
+<p>Wished you the spell of remembrance to wield,</p>
+<p class="i2">Calling the scenery back and the victuals;</p>
+<p>Still, when it blows and it rains, and it irks,</p>
+<p class="i2">Here in apartments adjoining a seaview,</p>
+<p>After a meal that would terrify Turks,</p>
+<p class="i2">Somehow I feel I can scarcely believe you.</p>
+ </div><div class="stanza">
+<p>Yes! It's too much to remember the past&mdash;</p>
+<p class="i2">Here, amid shrimps, and agilities nameless;</p>
+<p>Glaciers gigantic, and Restaurants vast</p>
+<p class="i2">Chime not with sands and a tablecloth shameless;</p>
+<p>Smoking a pestilent, sea-side cigar,</p>
+<p class="i2">Mewed in a lodging with children and nurses,</p>
+<p>Epitaphs gorgeous of far "<i>Dolce far</i>,"</p>
+<p class="i2">Curse you with paterfamiliar curses!</p>
+ </div> </div>
+
+<hr />
+
+<h2>THE UGLY FACE: A MORAL DUTY</h2>
+
+<div class="figright" style="width:20%;"><a href="images/125-2.png"><img width="100%" src="images/125-2.png" alt="'A ready-made Comedian with fifty quid a week.'" /></a>"A ready-made Comedian with fifty quid a week."</div>
+
+<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza">
+<p>Some years ago a babe was born&mdash;I need not name the place&mdash;</p>
+<p>With a puffy, pasty, podgy, gutta-percha sort of face,</p>
+<p>Which wrinkles sub-divided into funny little bits,</p>
+<p>While beady eyes peered cunningly behind two tiny slits.</p>
+ </div><div class="stanza">
+<p>His nose was like a mushroom of the foreign button sort,</p>
+<p>His form was quaint and chubby, and his legs were extra short;</p>
+<p>That his nurse spoke like SAPPHIRA, I have always had a fear,</p>
+<p>When she said he was a "beauty," and a "pretty little dear."</p>
+ </div><div class="stanza">
+<p>Yes, such remarks were really of the truth, a dreadful stretch,</p>
+<p>For, in point of fact, that baby was a hideous little wretch;</p>
+<p>And in course of time he grew up&mdash;though a loving mother's joy&mdash;</p>
+<p>Into quite a champion specimen of the genius "ugly boy."</p>
+ </div><div class="stanza">
+<p>At school his teasing comrades gave him many comic names,</p>
+<p>And he became the victim of all sorts of naughty games;</p>
+<p>Nor did the master like him, for he felt that such a face,</p>
+<p>Mid a row of ruddy youngsters, was extremely out of place.</p>
+ </div><div class="stanza">
+<p>In time, his father placed him in the City&mdash;as a clerk&mdash;</p>
+<p>Where his personal appearance excited much remark;</p>
+<p>But he fell out with his principal, whose customers complained,</p>
+<p>That his clerk was making faces, and said "Bosh!" when he explained.</p>
+ </div><div class="stanza">
+<p>On perceiving from the office that he never would be missed,</p>
+<p>As Mr. GILBERT puts it, he determined to enlist;</p>
+<p>And so one summer afternoon he started forth in search</p>
+<p>Of a Sergeant who perambulates close by St. Martin's Church.</p>
+ </div><div class="stanza">
+<p>The Sergeant burst out laughing when he'd uttered his request,</p>
+<p>And declared that, of a batch of jokes he knew, this was the best;</p>
+<p>"'Tis a pity you're too short, my lad," he then went on to say,</p>
+<p>"For wid <i>that</i> face ye'd froighten ivery inimy away!"</p>
+ </div><div class="stanza">
+<p>In a fountain which played handy&mdash;it was near Trafalgar Square&mdash;</p>
+<p>He was rushing off to drown himself, the victim of despair,</p>
+<p>When he knocked against a person he'd not seen for quite an age,</p>
+<p>Who had left his home some years before, and gone upon the Stage.</p>
+ </div><div class="stanza">
+<p>To this friend he soon narrated his distressing tale of woe,</p>
+<p>And declared his case was hopeless. But the actor said, "Not so.</p>
+<p>There's <i>one</i> thing, my fine fellow, that as yet you haven't tried,</p>
+<p>Where your face will be your fortune, and a pound or two beside.</p>
+ </div><div class="stanza">
+<p>"With a mouth like yours to grin with, and your too delicious squint,</p>
+<p>And the ears that Nature's given you with such a lack of stint,&mdash;</p>
+<p>No matter what an author may provide you with to speak,</p>
+<p>You're a ready-made Comedian&mdash;with your fifty quid a week."</p>
+ </div><div class="stanza">
+<p>And it was so. Though he started at a figure rather less</p>
+<p>Than the one that I have mentioned, still the truth I but express</p>
+<p>When I say he now is earning such a wage as wouldn't shock</p>
+<p>A respectable Archbishop or a fashionable jock.</p>
+ </div><div class="stanza">
+<p>And the face that all men sneered at, now is very much admired,</p>
+<p>And the public ne'er, apparently, of watching it grows tired,</p>
+<p>And the Merchant who dismissed him, in the Stalls is wont to sit,</p>
+<p>While the Sergeant and his sweetheart are applauding from the Pit.</p>
+ </div><div class="stanza">
+<p>The moral of my narrative is easy to espy.</p>
+<p>But still I'd better mention it, lest some should pass it by:</p>
+<p>"Though it's often very troublesome indeed to find it out&mdash;</p>
+<p>There's a proper sphere for <i>everyone</i>, beyond the slightest doubt."</p>
+ </div> </div>
+
+<hr />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="page126" id="page126"></a>[pg 126]</span>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width:100%;"><a href="images/126.png"><img width="100%" src="images/126.png" alt="TECHNICALITIES." /></a><h3>TECHNICALITIES.</h3>
+
+<p><i>First Amateur Water-Colourist.</i> "DO YOU <i>WASH</i> MUCH?"</p>
+
+<p><i>Second Ditto Ditto</i>. "NO; I <i>SCRATCH</i> A GOOD DEAL!"</p></div>
+
+<hr />
+
+<h2>"PUTTING ON THE HUG."</h2>
+
+<blockquote class="note"><p>
+[During President CARNOT's tour he received at
+Aix-les-Bains "a delegation of children." One
+of these, clad in a Russian dress, offered him a
+bunch of flowers, repeating a stanza written for
+the occasion. M. CARNOT, amid cries of "<i>Vive la
+France!</i>" "<i>Vive la Russie!</i>" "<i>Vive Carnot!</i>"
+"<i>Vive la République!</i>" kissed the little girl,
+saying, "<i>J'embrasse la Russie!</i>"]
+</p></blockquote>
+
+<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza">
+<p>Yes&mdash;"<i>Vive la France!</i>"&mdash;and "<i>Vive la Russie!</i>" too.</p>
+<p class="i2"><i>Vive</i>&mdash;why not?&mdash;everybody!</p>
+<p>Called once, "<i>Monsieur le Président Faute-de-Mieux</i>"<a id="footnotetag2" name="footnotetag2"></a><a href="#footnote2"><sup>2</sup></a></p>
+<p class="i2">(By <i>Punch</i>, that foe of shoddy).</p>
+<p>I fancy I have justified the name,</p>
+<p class="i2">Ay, to the very letter.</p>
+<p>I may not be a THIERS, but all the same,</p>
+<p class="i2">France has not found a better.</p>
+ </div><div class="stanza">
+<p>Tall-talk is tedious, but one must not flinch</p>
+<p class="i2">When asked the task to tackle;</p>
+<p>And he's no Frenchman true who, at a pinch,</p>
+<p class="i2">Cannot both crow and cackle.</p>
+<p>Ah, <i>Vive</i>, once more, the Gallic Cock&mdash;and hen!</p>
+<p class="i2">These Talking-Tours are trying,</p>
+<p>But 'tis with windy flouts of tongue or pen,</p>
+<p class="i2">We keep the French flag flying.</p>
+ </div><div class="stanza">
+<p>A sop for SAVOY neatly put, elicits</p>
+<p class="i2"><i>Such</i> "double rounds of cheering."</p>
+<p>"<i>Vive CARNOT!</i>" To be sure! My annual visits,</p>
+<p class="i2">France to the Flag endearing</p>
+<p>By sweet-phrased flattery of the Fatherland,</p>
+<p class="i2">Are sure to swell our legions.</p>
+<p>"I wish, France, to be <i>thine</i>!" The effect was grand,</p>
+<p class="i2">In "Allobrogian" regions.</p>
+ </div><div class="stanza">
+<p><i>Vive</i> Everything&mdash;especially <i>la Blague!</i></p>
+<p class="i2">(What <i>should</i> we do without it?)</p>
+<p>Fraternity! the Fatherland! the Flag!&mdash;</p>
+<p class="i2"><i>I</i> work them&mdash;never doubt it!</p>
+<p>Then "<i>La République</i>" and "<i>La Russie</i>," linked,</p>
+<p class="i2">Pair off, 'midst acclamations:</p>
+<p>Yes, I proclaimed&mdash;and never winced or winked&mdash;</p>
+<p class="i2"><i>That</i> "brotherhood of nations!"</p>
+ </div><div class="stanza">
+<p>"A delegation of young children," Ah!</p>
+<p class="i2">And they were not the only ones.</p>
+<p>"Men are but children of a larger&mdash;" Bah!</p>
+<p class="i2">Wise and strong <i>men</i> are&mdash;lonely ones.</p>
+<p>Most men&mdash;French-men&mdash;have touches of the child,</p>
+<p class="i2">Fondness for show, fine phrases&mdash;</p>
+<p>Pst! Here my <i>rôle</i>'s not cynical, but mild,</p>
+<p class="i2">And open as dawn-daisies.</p>
+ </div><div class="stanza">
+<p>"<i>J'embrasse la Russie!</i>" That was rather neat</p>
+<p class="i2">For "<i>Faute-de-Mieux</i>," at any rate.</p>
+<p>Wondrous the magic power of <i>blague</i>, and "bleat"</p>
+<p class="i2">On Man&mdash;<i>mouton</i> degenerate!</p>
+<p>That "<i>Bête Humaine</i>," as ZOLA dubs him. Gr&mdash;r&mdash;r!</p>
+<p class="i2">The real brutes are braver;</p>
+<p>The tiger, when in chase of prey, won't purr,</p>
+<p class="i2">Nor will the Bear, then, slaver.</p>
+ </div><div class="stanza">
+<p>The Bear! Reminds me of a horrid dream</p>
+<p class="i2">I had that night. A funny one,</p>
+<p>But startling! I awoke with such a scream!</p>
+<p class="i2">I dreamt some link (a money one?)</p>
+<p>Bound me to a big Bruin, rampant, tall,</p>
+<p class="i2">A regular Russian Shagbag,</p>
+<p>In whose close hug I felt extremely small,</p>
+<p class="i2">And squeezable as a rag-bag.</p>
+ </div><div class="stanza">
+<p>I, CARNOT, squeezable! 'Tis too absurd!</p>
+<p class="i2">A President, and pliant!</p>
+<p>But&mdash;in my dream&mdash;the raucous voice I heard</p>
+<p class="i2">Of that grim ursine giant.</p>
+<p>"Come to my arms! You'll find them strong and snug.</p>
+<p class="i2">The North's <i>so</i> true&mdash;and tender!"&mdash;</p>
+<p>And then that monster huge put on the hug!</p>
+<p class="i2">I thought my soul I'd render.</p>
+ </div><div class="stanza">
+<p>A bear's embrace, like a prize-fighter's grip,</p>
+<p class="i2">Is close as passion's clasping.</p>
+<p>"Welcome!" he grunted. "<i>I</i>'ll not let you slip!"</p>
+<p class="i2">"Thanks! thanks!" I answered, gasping.</p>
+<p>"<i>J'em&mdash;brasse&mdash;la&mdash;Rus&mdash;sie!</i>" Here my breath quite failed</p>
+<p class="i2">In that prodigious cuddle.</p>
+<p>'Twas but a dream&mdash;How was it sleep prevailed</p>
+<p class="i2">My meaning so to muddle?</p>
+ </div><div class="stanza">
+<p>"<i>J'embrasse la Russie!</i>" It was neatly phrased</p>
+<p class="i2">As MOHRENHEIM admitted,</p>
+<p>A President, in doggerel stanzas praised,</p>
+<p class="i2">Must be so ready-witted,</p>
+<p>Yet mild Republican and Autocrat,</p>
+<p class="i2">Hugging in friendly seeming,</p>
+<p>Suggest that <i>Someone</i> may be cuddled <i>flat</i>&mdash;</p>
+<p class="i2">At least in restless dreaming.</p>
+ </div> </div>
+
+<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote2" name="footnote2"></a><b>Footnote 2:</b><a href="#footnotetag2"> (return) </a><p>See Cut so named, p. 279, Vol. 93, Dec. 17, 1887.</p></blockquote>
+
+<hr />
+
+<h3>From the Vale of Llangolflyn.</h3>
+
+<p>DEAR MR. PUNCH,&mdash;I have just seen your
+Number with the Song of "The Golf Enthusiast." It occurs to me that no one has
+ever mentioned the fact that the Romans
+knew the game, for does not VIRGIL sing,
+"<i>Tee veniente die&mdash;Tee decedente canebat?</i>"
+I have not the book, and therefore can't give
+you the reference&mdash;but I know I am right, as I am </p>
+
+<p class="author">A WELSH GOLFER.</p>
+
+<hr />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="page127" id="page127"></a>[pg 127]</span>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width:100%;"><a href="images/127.png"><img width="100%" src="images/127.png" alt="'PUTTING ON THE HUG!'" /></a><h3>"PUTTING ON THE HUG!"</h3>
+
+M. LE PRÉSIDENT (<i>breathlessly</i>). "J'EM&mdash;BRASSE&mdash;LA RUSSIE!!"
+
+<blockquote class="note"><p>
+["An interesting incident occurred during the official reception held by M. CARNOT
+at the Mairie. A child dressed in the Russian national costume
+presented the President with a bouquet, at the same time reciting a brief
+complimentary speech. M. CARNOT smilingly embraced the child, saying, 'I
+embrace Russia.'"&mdash;<i>Quoted from Daily Papers</i>.]
+</p></blockquote></div>
+
+<hr />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="page129" id="page129"></a>[pg 129]</span>
+
+<h2>WHY YOUNG MEN DON'T MARRY.</h2>
+
+<p>DEAR MR. PUNCH,&mdash;The reason is obvious. It is entirely owing to your advice
+to those about to marry&mdash;Don't! I myself have been on the brink of proposing
+to several thousand delightful girls, a large per centage of which, I am
+convinced, would have gladly accepted me. I have in every case been
+restrained by the recollection of your advice.&mdash;Your obedient and obliged Servant,</p>
+
+<p class="author">HUGH ADOLPHUS LATCH-KEY.</p>
+
+<p><i>Sept</i>. 5, 1892.</p>
+
+<p>DEAR MR. PUNCH,&mdash;The reason (which I confide to your ear, and yours alone)
+is obvious&mdash;the girls don't,
+and apparently <i>won't</i> propose.
+Of course they ought&mdash;what else do we have Leap Year for? Take my
+own case. I am genuinely in love with ETHEL TRINKERTON, who has just been
+staying with us in the country for three weeks. She has paid me every kind
+of attention. In our neighbourhood, if A. carries B.'s umbrella, where A. and B.
+are of opposite sexes, it is regarded as an informal, though perfectly definite
+way of announcing an approaching engagement. She knew the custom, and <i>carried
+mine on no less than three occasions</i>. (It is entirely beside the point
+that it rained heavily each time.) Yet she left us yesterday without an approach
+to a proposal. She's fair enough herself, but is her conduct? It isn't
+as if I hadn't given her enough chances. It cost me a small fortune
+to bribe my small brother to keep away; and, time after time, I've
+consented to sit alone with her in the summer-house. It isn't as if
+she couldn't afford it. They tell me she has at least a thousand
+a-year in her own right (whatever that may be), which would do
+capitally. I happen to be penniless myself; but, as I heard her
+say, her idea of marriage was the union of "soul to soul," my
+want of a few paltry pence could hardly matter. It's particularly
+humiliating for me, as, after the repeated umbrella-carrying,
+everybody here thinks it's all settled. That, <i>Mr. Punch</i>, is the
+reason why, at any rate, <i>one</i> young man doesn't marry.</p>
+
+<p class="author">Yours, thoroughly aggrieved,<br />
+BERTIE COOL-CHEEK,</p>
+
+<p><i>Pickleton-in-the-Marsh, Kent</i>.</p>
+
+<p>P.S.&mdash;If ETHEL really didn't understand her position, and would
+like to reopen the matter, I would not be haughty about it.&mdash;B. C-C.</p>
+
+<p>DEAR, KIND, GOOD MR. PUNCH,&mdash;The reason is obvious&mdash;the men
+don't and won't propose to the right girls. Take my own case. I've
+just stayed three weeks with the COOL-CHEEKS, and felt quite certain
+BERTIE would have proposed. He had all the symptoms badly. I
+saw him give his little brother half-a-crown to go indoors for ten
+minutes, and the way he <i>would</i> go in the summer-house and for long
+walks&mdash;with <i>me</i>&mdash;made it quite clear (as I thought) what was going
+to happen. Yet, he let me come away without a word! I'm sure <i>I</i>
+don't want to run after him (or anybody else), but I <i>did</i> think he
+meant something. We suited one another admirably. In fact, if he
+doesn't ask <i>me</i> with all the opportunities he had, he'd ask no one.</p>
+
+<p class="author">Yours, just-a-little-disappointed,<br />
+ETHEL TRINKERTON,</p>
+
+<p><i>The Thorns, Bayswater.</i></p>
+
+<p>P.S.&mdash;He carried my umbrella almost hourly&mdash;and you know what
+<i>that</i> means. If BERTIE was only nervous, and would like another
+chance&mdash;well, we are always at home on Sunday afternoons.&mdash;E.T.</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width:65%;"><a href="images/129.png"><img width="100%" src="images/129.png" alt="A REAL CONVERT." /></a><h3>A REAL CONVERT.</h3>
+
+<p><i>Local Preacher</i> (<i>giving an account to the Vicar of the Parish of a dispute he has
+had with the Leading Lights of his Sect</i>). "YES, SIR, AFTER TREATMENT THE LIKES
+O' THAT, I SAYS TO 'EM, 'FOR THE FUTURE,' SAYS I, 'I CHUCKS UP ALL RELIGION,
+AND I GOES TO CHURCH!'"</p></div>
+
+<hr />
+
+<h2>A HINT TO EDITORS.</h2>
+
+<blockquote><p>
+SCENE&mdash;<i>The Sanctum of a Newspaper Office.</i> Editor
+<i>discovered (by</i> Obtrusive Visitor) <i>hard at work.</i>
+</p></blockquote>
+
+<div class="drama">
+<p><i>Obtrusive Visitor</i>. I trust that I have not come at an unfortunate moment?</p>
+
+<p><i>Editor</i> (<i>looking up from his desk</i>). Dear me! You here! Delighted to see you.
+But don't let me disturb you. Good-bye!</p>
+
+<p><i>Ob. Vis.</i> (<i>seating himself</i>). No; I am afraid it is the other way. I know
+at this time of the week you must be exceptionally busy.</p>
+
+<p><i>Ed.</i> (<i>with courteous impatience</i>). Not at all, but&mdash;</p>
+
+<p><i>Ob. Vis.</i> Oh! thank you so much. Because it is the very last thing in the
+world I would like to do&mdash;to disturb you. And now, how are you?</p>
+
+<p><i>Ed.</i> Quite well, thanks. But now, if you don't mind, I will just finish.</p>
+</div>
+
+<blockquote><p>
+[<i>Turns to go on with his article.</i>
+</p></blockquote>
+
+<div class="drama">
+<p><i>Ob. Vis.</i> (<i>rejecting the hint</i>). I said to myself as I came along, Now I will
+look him up.</p>
+
+<p><i>Ed.</i> Very kind of you, but&mdash;</p>
+
+<p><i>Ob. Vis.</i> Oh, not in the least; and you know, my dear fellow, how I enjoy a
+chat.</p>
+
+<p><i>Ed.</i> Yes,&mdash;and I, too. But just now&mdash;</p>
+
+<p><i>Ob. Vis.</i> Quite so. You want me to do all the talking, as we haven't met
+for the last three weeks. Well, you must know we have been to Herne Bay, and&mdash;</p>
+
+<p><i>Ed.</i> Yes; charming place. But just now I am&mdash;</p>
+
+<p><i>Ob. Vis.</i> Quite so. But I didn't come to tell you about Herne
+Bay, although it is really a delightful spot. The air&mdash;</p>
+
+<p><i>Ed.</i> Yes, I know all about it. First-rate, most salubrious, and
+the rest of it. But, my dear friend, you really must&mdash;</p>
+
+<p><i>Ob. Vis.</i> Quite so! Yes, everyone knows all about Herne Bay;
+and I really came to ask you if you had any room for an article.</p>
+
+<p><i>Ed.</i> (<i>roused</i>). My dear fellow, I assure you we are quite full for
+months. Any number of excellent things standing over.</p>
+
+<p><i>Ob. Vis.</i> Oh, yes, I know you are always full. You told me so
+the last time I called.</p>
+
+<p><i>Ed.</i> Quite so! Very sorry, but it can't be helped. Have to look
+so far ahead nowadays, you know.</p>
+
+<p><i>Ob. Vis.</i> Certainly; and that is why I thought I would just bring
+a half-finished article and show you what I had dome, and complete
+it if you thought it would do. You can put it in whenever you like;
+so it would not hurt for standing over.</p>
+
+<p><i>Ed.</i> (<i>with inspiration</i>). What is it called?</p>
+
+<p><i>Ob. Vis.</i> "Russian Wheat and Chinese Tea or Free Trade in
+Australia." The subject is quite novel, and ought to attract considerable attention.</p>
+
+<p><i>Ed.</i> Novel! Why, my dear fellow, I do believe I have an article
+somewhere in that heap upon the very subject.</p>
+</div>
+
+<blockquote><p>
+[<i>Pretends to search pile of MS.</i>
+</p></blockquote>
+
+<div class="drama">
+<p><i>Ob. Vis.</i> (<i>uneasily</i>). Oh, never mind. I will read you what I have
+written, and&mdash;</p>
+
+<p><i>Ed.</i> (<i>genially</i>). Oh, no, I won't give you the trouble. I will read
+you what <i>he</i> has written, and then you can see.&mdash;Ah, here it is!</p>
+</div>
+
+<blockquote><p>
+[<i>Produces enormous pile of MS.</i>
+</p></blockquote>
+
+<div class="drama">
+<p><i>Ob. Vis.</i> (<i>hesitating</i>). Well, perhaps, if you don't mind&mdash;</p>
+</div>
+
+<blockquote><p>
+[<i>Suddenly remembers
+an appointment and exit.</i> Editor <i>resumes
+hit work with an air of triumph. Curtain.</i>
+</p></blockquote>
+
+<hr />
+
+<center>THE THIEF'S MOTTO.&mdash;"Take things quietly."</center>
+
+<hr />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="page130" id="page130"></a>[pg 130]</span>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width:70%;"><a href="images/130-1.png"><img width="100%" src="images/130-1.png" alt="" /></a><p><i>Jones</i>. "HOW IS IT WE SEE YOU SO SELDOM AT THE CLUB NOW?"</p>
+
+<p><i>Old Member</i>. "AH, WELL, YOU SEE, I'M NOT SO YOUNG AS I WAS; AND I'VE HAD A GOOD
+DEAL OF WORRY LATELY; AND SO, WHAT WITH ONE THING AND ANOTHER, I'VE GROWN RATHER FOND
+OF MY OWN SOCIETY."</p>
+
+<p><i>Jones</i>. "EPICURE!"</p></div>
+
+<hr />
+
+<h2>TO A PHEASANT.</h2>
+
+<h3 class="sc">A Sportsmanlike(?) Song for September.</h3>
+
+<center>AIR&mdash;"<i>You are Queen of my Heart To-night</i>."</center>
+
+<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza">
+<p class="i2">I Stand in the copses sighing</p>
+<p class="i4">As the cruel hours creep by,</p>
+<p class="i2">And I see you slowly flying</p>
+<p class="i4">Above the trees on high.</p>
+<p class="i2">Your wondrous wealth, of feather</p>
+<p class="i4">Has weaved a subtle spell,</p>
+<p class="i2">And I softly wonder whether</p>
+<p class="i4">You'd really taste as well.</p>
+<p class="i2">For my hand is fairly steady</p>
+<p class="i4">Though my heart is beating fast,</p>
+<p class="i2">Oh, tell me that you too are ready</p>
+<p class="i4">To make this hour your last.</p>
+<p>For repentance may come when we're sober,</p>
+<p class="i2">Let's seize on the chance while we may;</p>
+<p>Then why should we wait till October?</p>
+<p class="i2">Oh! Why not be shot to-day?</p>
+<p class="i2">Oh! tell me why, why should I remember</p>
+<p class="i4">With a thought of wild alarm,</p>
+<p class="i2">That all through the month of sweet September</p>
+<p class="i4">You should be free from harm.</p>
+<p class="i2">Why, why does your beauty enslave me,</p>
+<p class="i4">As it does, you're bound to allow</p>
+<p class="i2">Oh! say but the word that will save me,</p>
+<p class="i4">And tell me to shoot you now.</p>
+<p class="i2">For my heart is wildly beating</p>
+<p class="i4">(As it's often done before),</p>
+<p class="i2">And the moments madly fleeting</p>
+<p class="i4">Are going to come never more.</p>
+<p>For repentance may come when we're sober,</p>
+<p class="i2">Let's seize on the chance while we may,</p>
+<p>Then why should we wait till October?</p>
+<p class="i2">Oh! Why not be shot to-day?</p>
+ </div> </div>
+
+<hr />
+
+<h2>"THE GRATUITOUS OPINION."</h2>
+
+<h4>(<i>A Story for the Long Vacation</i>.)</h4>
+
+<p>The Eminent Lawyer was about to return to his private address,
+when there was a knock at the door of his Chambers. He attended to
+the summons himself, and found facing him an elderly and carefully
+dressed individual.</p>
+
+<p>"That some of my suburban neighbours desire the information,
+must be my excuse for troubling you," said the visitor.</p>
+
+<p>"Nay, do not apologise," returned the Eminent Q.C., "it is my
+pleasantest duty to give legal tips or applications to anybody. It is
+not altogether lucrative, as I deliver them for nothing, but then on
+the other hand, they are suitable for insertion in the papers, and
+that is a comforting consideration. What can I do for you?"</p>
+
+<div class="figright" style="width:40%;"><a href="images/130-2.png"><img width="100%" src="images/130-2.png" alt="" /></a></div>
+
+<p>"I have to ask you on behalf of my suburban neighbours," continued
+the visitor, "whether there
+is any principle which is accepted by
+Judges to regulate their decisions in
+cases where drunkenness seems to be the incentive of crime?"</p>
+
+<p>"I shall only be too glad to find
+a solution to a problem which appears one of great difficulty&mdash;the
+more especially as certain inhabitants of the suburbs are so deeply
+interested in the subject. It seems to me that some Judges think one
+way and some another."</p>
+
+<p>"That is strange," murmured the visitor. "Cannot their Lordships
+come to a common conclusion?"</p>
+
+<p>"I fear not," replied the Eminent
+Counsel, with a mournful smile. "It is merely a question of opinion.
+However, I take it that one
+would be perfectly safe to commit a murder under the influence of
+<i>delirium tremens</i>."</p>
+
+<p>"I am infinitely obliged to you for the information," said the
+visitor, "as now I know what to do."</p>
+
+<p>"You are not homicidal, I trust!" exclaimed the Lawyer, jumping
+up from his chair, and taking protection behind a desk.
+"I have the greatest possible objection to homicidal clients."</p>
+
+<p>"Be under no apprehension," was the reply. "I have a strong
+desire to shorten the life of a certain person, but have not the nerve
+to do it. If I ever succeed, will it be a case deserving capital punishment?"</p>
+
+<p>The Lawyer pondered a moment, and then replied.
+"I have no wish to offer my counsel; but, as you have exhausted
+my time for consideration, I would propose that you should try the
+matter for yourself. Become intoxicated, put yourself within the
+clutches of the law, and then see whether his Lordship will assume the black cap."</p>
+
+<p>"You are very good," returned the would-be homicide, "but I have
+one difficulty. When I make up my mind to remove a person by
+unconventional means (for choice, a carving-knife), and consume the
+necessary amount of alcohol to insure intoxication&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," interjected the Lawyer, who had now opened the outer door.</p>
+
+<p>"I find, on reaching intoxication, that I have entirely forgotten the
+identity of the man I have marked for my victim. Then I have got to
+grow sober before I can remember who it is. Annoying, isn't it?"</p>
+
+<p>And, wishing the Eminent Counsel
+a pleasant holiday, the visitor disappeared into the Inner Temple.</p>
+
+<hr />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="page131" id="page131"></a>[pg 131]</span>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width:100%;"><a href="images/131.png"><img width="100%" src="images/131.png" alt="AT THE SOUTH SEA-SIDE." /></a><h3>AT THE SOUTH SEA-SIDE.</h3></div>
+
+<hr />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="page132" id="page132"></a>[pg 132]</span>
+
+<h2>THE HAT TO THE PARASOL.</h2>
+
+<h4>(<i>A Scherzo in Nobs and Sticks.</i>)</h4>
+
+<div class="figright" style="width:55%;"><a href="images/132-1.png"><img width="100%" src="images/132-1.png" alt="" /></a></div>
+
+<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza">
+<p>Reflection polished of highbred</p>
+<p class="i2">And unreflecting graces,</p>
+<p>I scintillate o'er STREPHON's head</p>
+<p class="i2">At gala, rout or races;</p>
+<p>Mine is the black but comely blend,</p>
+<p class="i2">And mine the crowning touches</p>
+<p>That so demurely recommend</p>
+<p class="i2">The dandy to the duchess.</p>
+ </div><div class="stanza">
+<p>Out on thee, cruel Parasol,</p>
+<p class="i2">Of lace, the pearl, and satin;</p>
+<p>And glinting like a fairy doll</p>
+<p class="i2">With many a burnished patin;</p>
+<p>Cool, charming as the dainty dame</p>
+<p class="i2">Who twirls thy coromandel;</p>
+<p>Thou flauntest proudly since thy name,</p>
+<p class="i2">Like hers, can boast its handle!</p>
+ </div><div class="stanza">
+<p>The cynosure of wondering <i>beaux</i>,</p>
+<p class="i2">I boast a soul above thee;</p>
+<p>No fate can mar my calm repose,</p>
+<p class="i2">Or make me cease to love thee;</p>
+<p>Supreme above the common tile,</p>
+<p class="i2">My own affronts unheeding,</p>
+<p>I bow and compliment and smile,</p>
+<p class="i2">The Chesterfield of breeding.</p>
+ </div><div class="stanza">
+<p>Out on thee, trinket idly swayed!</p>
+<p class="i2">Could any courtier dare see,</p>
+<p>Through such perfections so displayed,</p>
+<p class="i2">The mere "<i>Belle Dame sans merci</i>"?</p>
+<p>Could man believe a thing so soft,</p>
+<p class="i2">So framed for gentle passion,</p>
+<p>Might wound, and wound not once but oft</p>
+<p class="i2">The jaunty glass of fashion?</p>
+ </div><div class="stanza">
+<p>Yet sooth it is; and here I stand</p>
+<p class="i2">A martyr to my tenets&mdash;</p>
+<p>That orthodoxy smooth and grand</p>
+<p class="i2">Of LINCOLN's fane and BENNETT's;</p>
+<p>Unruffled once and unperplexed,</p>
+<p class="i2">Collapsing now like jelly,</p>
+<p>And but a sermon on the text</p>
+<p class="i2"><i>Sic transit lux capelli</i>.</p>
+ </div><div class="stanza">
+<p>I who have braved our fitful climes</p>
+<p class="i2">And laughed when tempest drenches,</p>
+<p>And shaken off the dust that grimes</p>
+<p class="i2">Pews, cushioned stalls and benches,</p>
+<p>Survived the counterblasting Row,</p>
+<p class="i2">And Summer gales that roar so&mdash;</p>
+<p>I ne'er imagined such a foe</p>
+<p class="i2">Could trounce me to a torso.</p>
+ </div> </div>
+
+<hr />
+
+<h2>THE POTATO AND THE HEPTARCHY.</h2>
+
+<h4>(<i>A Sensible Song for the Silly Season.</i>)</h4>
+
+<blockquote class="note"><p>
+["Even the Potato and the Heptarchy will not
+leave us perfectly equipped."&mdash;<i>The Daily News
+on "Why Young Men Don't Marry."</i>]
+</p></blockquote>
+
+<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza">
+<p>The Tater and the Heptarchy</p>
+<p class="i2">Were walking hand-in-hand;</p>
+<p>They wept like "first-night" Stalls to see</p>
+<p class="i2">The folly of the land;</p>
+<p>"If fools would not talk fiddlededee,"</p>
+<p class="i2">They said "it <i>would</i> be grand!"</p>
+ </div><div class="stanza">
+<p>"If modest maids with towzled mops</p>
+<p class="i2">On <i>you</i> and <i>me</i> were clear,</p>
+<p>Do you suppose," the Tater said,</p>
+<p class="i2">"More men would wed each year?"</p>
+<p>"I doubt it," said the Heptarchy&mdash;</p>
+<p class="i2">"They only mean to sneer!</p>
+ </div><div class="stanza">
+<p>"'O Maidens, come and cook for us!'</p>
+<p class="i2">They&mdash;shamming love&mdash;beseech.</p>
+<p>'Oh, tell us about Saxon times!</p>
+<p class="i2">The course of history teach!'</p>
+<p>But what they really want is 'tin;'</p>
+<p class="i2">A thumping share for each.</p>
+ </div><div class="stanza">
+<p>"A girl may cook like any <i>chef</i>,</p>
+<p class="i2">And know all HALLAM through,</p>
+<p>May be a dab at darning socks,</p>
+<p class="i2">Or making Irish stew;</p>
+<p>But what young cubs care for is cash,</p>
+<p class="i2">And not for me <i>or</i> you.</p>
+ </div><div class="stanza">
+<p>"They want to lead an easy life,</p>
+<p class="i2">And have good weeds and wine.</p>
+<p>Without these luxuries, a wife</p>
+<p class="i2">They scornfully decline.</p>
+<p>For <i>Benedick's</i> life of manly strife</p>
+<p class="i2">The fops are far too fine."</p>
+ </div><div class="stanza">
+<p>"The Season's come," the Tater said,</p>
+<p class="i2">"To write of many things:</p>
+<p>Of frocks&mdash;and socks&mdash;and needle-work&mdash;</p>
+<p class="i2">And babes&mdash;and bonnet-strings;</p>
+<p>But all the lot talk utter rot.</p>
+<p class="i2">Let the fools have their flings!</p>
+ </div><div class="stanza">
+<p>"Their jibes at girls, their games, their curls,</p>
+<p class="i2">Their wastefulness, their waist,</p>
+<p>Their yearnings to hook Dukes and Earls,</p>
+<p class="i2">Their matrimonial haste,</p>
+<p>Are the crude chat of cubs and churls,</p>
+<p class="i2">And in the vilest taste.</p>
+ </div><div class="stanza">
+<p>"But when they prate of you and me,</p>
+<p class="i2">As the two gifts <i>they</i> want,</p>
+<p>Say Classic lore and Cookery</p>
+<p class="i2">Are things for which <i>they</i> pant;</p>
+<p>Believe me, my dear Heptarchy,</p>
+<p class="i2">They plumb profoundest Cant!"</p>
+ </div> </div>
+
+<hr />
+
+<h2>SEA-SIDE ILLS.</h2>
+
+<h4>(<i>By Our Man Over-bored.</i>)</h4>
+
+<h3>SEA-SIDYLL&mdash;THE PIER BAND.</h3>
+
+<div class="figright" style="width:33%;"><a href="images/132-2.png"><img width="100%" src="images/132-2.png" alt="" /></a></div>
+
+<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza">
+<p>'Tis the Band of the Corporation&mdash;</p>
+<p>And it plays on that body's pier;</p>
+<p class="i2">And one knows by the way</p>
+<p class="i2">That the instruments play,</p>
+<p>That the talent is not too dear.</p>
+<p>And the trombone is not too clear;</p>
+<p class="i2">When it has to play quick</p>
+<p class="i2">It is moistful and thick,</p>
+<p>For the trombone is fond of beer&mdash;</p>
+<p>It is nurtured on pots of beer.</p>
+ </div><div class="stanza">
+<p>'Tis the Band of the Corporation&mdash;</p>
+<p>And the cornet is fat just here;</p>
+<p class="i2">And he's short, and bull-necked.</p>
+<p class="i2">When you come to reflect</p>
+<p>How he wastes all his wind, 'tis queer</p>
+<p>That the man should be stout just here!</p>
+<p class="i2">But the noise of the throat</p>
+<p class="i2">In the solos denote</p>
+<p>That the cornet is fond of beer&mdash;</p>
+<p>It's been brought up on pots of beer.</p>
+ </div><div class="stanza">
+<p>'Tis the Band of the Corporation&mdash;</p>
+<p>And I know why that Band is queer,</p>
+<p class="i2">For I see in the face</p>
+<p class="i2">Of the trombone a trace</p>
+<p>Of the blackguard who blows it near</p>
+<p>Me in Town, at most times of year!</p>
+<p class="i2">And I mark, too, the face</p>
+<p class="i2">Of that beastly big-bass&mdash;</p>
+<p>(Which has also been reared on beer)&mdash;</p>
+<p class="i2">And I know, too, the face</p>
+<p class="i2">Of that other disgrace,</p>
+<p>The fat cornet! They've come down here&mdash;</p>
+<p>They've been borrowed, and lent new gear!</p>
+ </div><div class="stanza">
+<p class="i2">But I know them of old,</p>
+<p class="i2">And in spite of the gold</p>
+<p>Round the hats, with the peaks just here,</p>
+<p>I can see who they are while near.</p>
+<p class="i2">They wear bowlers in Town,</p>
+<p class="i2">And frock-coats which are brown,</p>
+<p>On account of their age&mdash;or beer!</p>
+<p>For they play to the public for beer;</p>
+<p class="i2">For they stand and they blow</p>
+<p class="i2">On the kerb in a row,</p>
+<p>And then go to the public for beer!</p>
+<p>And so this is the Band down here!</p>
+ </div> </div>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p>"THREE CHOIRS FESTIVAL."&mdash;Curious coincidence,
+if true, that when Miss JESSIE KING
+was charmingly giving the contralto song,
+"<i>While my Watch I'm Keeping</i>," a gentleman
+in the crowded audience suddenly put his
+hand to his waistcoat-pocket and exclaimed,
+"Good gracious! it's gone!" He will never
+forget the title of that song. The watch was off its guard.</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><font size="+1">&#x261e;</font> NOTICE.&mdash;Rejected Communications or Contributions, whether MS., Printed
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+
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+<p>***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI, VOL. 103, SEPTEMBER 17, 1892***</p>
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+The Project Gutenberg eBook, Punch, or the London Charivari, Vol. 103,
+September 17, 1892, by Various, Edited by F. C. Burnand
+
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+
+
+
+Title: Punch, or the London Charivari, Vol. 103, September 17, 1892
+
+Author: Various
+
+Release Date: March 12, 2005 [eBook #15332]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-646-US (US-ASCII)
+
+
+***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI,
+VOL. 103, SEPTEMBER 17, 1892***
+
+
+E-text prepared by Malcolm Farmer, William Flis, and the Project Gutenberg
+Online Distributed Proofreading Team
+
+
+
+Note: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this
+ file which includes the original illustrations.
+ See 15332-h.htm or 15332-h.zip:
+ (http://www.ibiblio.org/gutenberg/1/5/3/3/15332/15332-h/15332-h.htm)
+ or
+ (http://www.ibiblio.org/gutenberg/1/5/3/3/15332/15332-h.zip)
+
+
+
+
+
+PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI
+
+VOL. 103
+
+SEPTEMBER 17, 1892
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+HEARING HIMSELF.
+
+(_MYSTERIOUS MEM. FROM A HAWARDEN NOTE-BOOK._)
+
+Exceedingly kind and flattering of MAX MUeLLER! "I hope there are but
+few here present who have never enjoyed the privilege of listening to
+Mr. GLADSTONE." Ha! ha! He little thought there was _one_ there who
+had _not_ "enjoyed that privilege." Have enjoyed most privileges in
+my time, but never that of "hearing myself as others hear me"--more or
+less. "Unavoidable absence of Mr. GLADSTONE!" Ho! ho! Then my disguise
+_was_ perfect. Get myself up as a Liberal Unionist, with wig and
+eye-glass. Not likely anybody would recognise me in _that_ rig.
+
+Rather enjoyed myself--and my paper, "Phoenician Elements in the
+Homeric Poems." Most seductive title! Such a _popular_ touch about it!
+Think I shall have it printed as a "leaflet" for distribution among
+Workmen's Clubs and Radical Associations. Might conciliate those
+well-meaning but illogical Eight-Hour Men. Wonder if KEIRHARDIE would
+like a copy. What more nicely calculated to cheer the scant leisure of
+Labour?
+
+Funny to hear my own sinuous sentences coming back to me from mouth
+of another. Not quite sure MAX is so "fascinating in his voice, and
+so persuasive in his delivery" as--but no matter. Can't say--as MAX
+did--"I felt myself carried away, and convinced almost against my
+will." Not at all! Wonder what he meant by that? Why "against his
+will"? That's what Liberal Unionists, and other preposterous and
+illogical opponents of mine say in House, when they compliment me on
+my "eloquence," _and then vote against me!_ Absurd! Wish they'd drop
+their compliments and vote straight.
+
+"Small and exotic contribution" to Oriental Congress! Neat description
+of paper running to nearly four columns of _Times_. "Intense sentiment
+of nationality, which led the Greeks of later days to covet the title
+of Autochthones." Wonder if that reminded MAX, or anyone else, of
+_another_ race with "an intense sentiment of nationality," and a
+passionate love of the land from which they sprang. Wonder whether,
+if Nationalists were to call themselves "Auctochthones" instead of
+Home-Rulers, we should get along better? Must consult JUSTIN on this
+point. Should have to teach some of them to _pronounce_ their new
+name, though. "Autochthones," spoken in wrath, with a rich brogue,
+after dinner, would, I should think, beat Phillippopolis, or "Ri'
+l'il, ti' li'l Isl'l" hollow.
+
+_Anax andron_, too, might be useful. Say, as substitute for that
+everlasting G.O.M., of which I admit I'm heartily sick, Lord of Men!
+_Not_ King of Men, of course. LABBY might kick at latter. "Nothing
+can be simpler than the meaning of the two words." Exactly. Must get
+HARCOURT to popularise these. Applied to AGAMEMNON. Why not to "strong
+men" who live _after_ AGAMEMNON? "Evidence from extraneous sources
+of connection between title of _Anax andron_ and great Egyptian
+Empire." Aha! I may yet have to play the _Anax andron_ in Egypt as
+before. Allegory--I mean _Anax andron_ on banks of Nile! Good--and
+not a Malapropism, whatever WOLSELEY may say. "Title of _Anax
+andron_ descendible" (good word, "descendible") "from father to
+son, and accorded in the poems to personages altogether secondary,
+_viz._, EUMELOS and EUPHETES." Wonder what my EUMELOS--HERBERT--will
+say to that!
+
+Enjoyed it much whilst MAX was "mouthing out" (as Mrs. BROWNING
+says) my eulogy of that man of "Phoenician stamp," the "universal
+ODYSSEUS," who expressed the many-sided, the all-accomplished man;
+the _polutropos_, the _polumetis_, the _tlemon_, the _polutlas_, the
+_polumekanos_, the _poikilometis_, the _poluphron_, the _daiphron_,
+the _talasiphron._ (What a peck of p's!) In battle never foiled! In
+council supreme! His oratory like the snow-flakes of the winter
+storm. Superbly representative Phoenician! "But over and above this
+universality of ODYSSEUS in the arts of life, he bears the Phoenician
+stamp in what may be termed his craft." Aha! The "Old Parliamentary
+Hand" of his period plainly. Wonder if MAX thought of _that_!
+Hellas and Phoenicia combined! As a Statesman of classical culture,
+commercial instincts _and_ craft, what a shining success ODYSSEUS
+might have been in these days!
+
+ He went into the Cyclops' cave
+ To see what he could spy out;
+ He slew his oxen, stole his sheep,
+ And then he poked his eye out,
+
+as the ribald doggerelist has it. Sounds a little "predatory,"
+perhaps, as SALISBURY would say. But quite capable of being
+"spiritualised" into a sound Liberal policy, directed against the
+purblind Poluphemos of Property and Privilege.
+
+On the whole, I had a high old time among the Orientalists. But
+when discussion ensued, I longed to throw off my disguise and
+rush, Achilles-like, into the fray. But MAX might have thought that
+inconsistent with my "colossal humanity;" so, very unwillingly, I
+refrained.
+
+ * * * * *
+
+UP ALOFT.--The most elevated title in the Peerage, and belonging to
+the upperest part of the Upper House, is "Lord MOUNTGARRET." There can
+be but one higher, and that will have to be created in the person of
+a future "Lord TOPOCHIMNEPOT." Though, perhaps, the title of "Lord
+COWLEY," if it were altered into Lord CHIMNEPOT-COWL-Y, would be the
+highest of all.
+
+ * * * * *
+
+ANGLICE-FRENCHIE EXCLAMATION (_on any of the recent many showery
+days when, after an interval of ten minutes, the next bucketful
+descended_).--"_POUR une autre fois!_"
+
+ * * * * *
+
+[Illustration: NATURE'S SECRETS.
+
+"HERE ARE SOME NEW LAID EGGS FOR YOU, GEORGIE!"
+
+"OH, THANKS! HOW NICE! I HAVEN'T SEEN A NEW LAID EGG FOR WEEKS! HOW DO
+YOU MANAGE TO GET THEM? OH, OF COURSE--YOU'VE GOT _AN INCUBATOR_!"]
+
+ * * * * *
+
+INNS AND OUTS.
+
+NO. III.--THE PORTER.
+
+I had intended to have written, this week about "Loggosh"--including
+that mysterious canvass hand-box which contains all that a foreigner
+cares to carry about with him by day, and often pillows him when
+travelling by night; but the very mention of luggage brings me back
+to the Porter. I abominate him. I am "one who has suffered." So here
+goes!
+
+"Imposing," best describes the Hotel porter; a very Grand Hotel has
+at least two of these impositions--the House Porter and the Omnibus
+Porter. The latter you only see twice in your Hotel existence, but he
+is the most futile and the deadliest fraud of the two.
+
+This Porter is part and parcel of that horrible deep-red-plush
+nuisance, the Hotel-omnibus. He and it are inseparables, and make up
+a sort of Centaur between them. Once outside the Railway-station, I
+am besieged by a babel of these Porter-omnibuses--"Bear Hotel, Sor;"
+"Grand Hotel, Sor!"--This, from a very dilapidated specimen, which,
+on inspection, turns out to be "Grand Hotel Du Lac;" a pirate
+porter-omnibus in fact; at last I find _The_ Grand Hotel vehicle, and
+functionary. The latter is of gigantic stature; quite a "chucker-out;"
+in a uniform between that of a German bandsman and a Salvation
+Captain--"Certinly, Sar. Dis Grand Hotel; I see your Loggosh, Sar; gif
+me se empfangschein." "Do you speak English?" I retort.--"Certinly;
+spik Ingleese--empfangschein!"--"Empfangschein" baffles me, and I
+am about to hand my keys to the monster, when a good-natured Courier
+explains that it signifies the luggage-receipt.
+
+Away ambles the Porter, leaving me with that orphaned sort of feeling
+which a luggageless Englishman experiences; it is pouring cats and
+dogs; I am dead beat; I creep into the dark omnibus. I find myself
+quite alone. I wait impatiently--a quarter of an hour--twenty-five
+minutes--still no Porter; I am famished; to distract myself, I
+peer through the door, whence I can discern the messy vista of the
+railway-station in the rain; it's lucky I do so; for there I behold my
+own portmanteau, with its huge purple stripe, being hauled away on the
+back of a railway-man, followed by an alien Hotel Porter, _not mine_,
+doing nothing: they are always doing nothing. To rush out indignantly,
+seize my box, defy the brigands, and carry it back myself, seemed
+the work of an instant. Drenched and gasping, I find myself once
+more outside; the Porter of the Grand Hotel Du Lac is at my heels,
+furious and impertinent. "Dis, _not_ your loggosh: other shentleman's
+loggosh." He seized the portmanteau, and a struggle would certainly
+have ensued, when my own Hotel Porter appeared on the scene
+triumphant, with a regiment of station-men carrying one small tin box.
+"What you do, Sar; see _here_, your loggosh!" The tin box belonged to
+a commercial-traveller, who was bound for the Hotel Du Lac.
+
+I am too exhausted to curse, and leave the rival Porters to fight it
+out themselves, after paying off the ragged regiment of Station-men.
+On the drive to the Hotel, the Porter tries to propitiate me.
+
+"Pity shentlemans like you, Sar, fetch de loggosh. I tell you, better
+leave it to me, Sar. You see, _I_ get your loggosh. Dat bizley Porter
+of De Hotel Du Lac, he change de empfangschein; but I sweep it from
+him, and bring to de 'Bus"--"'Bus" was good--and then he laughed!
+
+[Illustration: "Pity shentlemans like you, Sar, retchistar de
+loggosh."]
+
+I never saw the brute again until the time of my departure; I had
+taken a carriage to the Station this time, thinking thereby to avoid
+the Porter-omnibus. I had registered my traps myself, and was looking
+out for some one to carry them to the den in which you are penned till
+the train arrives, when, lo! the chucker-out! smiling and bowing as if
+he had never seen me before--"Is better I retchistar de loggosh, Sar;
+pity shentlemans like you, Sar, retchistar de loggosh."
+
+I turn on my heel with an imprecation which "Ingleese-spikers"
+understand. But he still waits there, smiling, and expecting to be
+tipped, Let him wait. So much for the Omnibus-Porter--at once the Gamp
+and Undertaker of my Grand Hotel existence.
+
+The House-Porter is of equal size, and equal uselessness. He sits
+in the hall, and always rises and salutes when you pass. If you want
+anything, he waits till you have got it, and then offers to procure
+it for you. If you ask to be called early, he chalks something on a
+slate, and you are safe not to be disturbed until you rise in your
+wrath and ring violently. Should you be in a town, and wish to secure
+theatre-tickets, he becomes more active; he implores you not to resort
+to "De Boxing Office, vare you pay premiums, you see;" but he has one
+or two left for sale. Should you be weak enough to yield, you will
+find that the worst seats at the highest prices are yours; and, if you
+remonstrate next day, he will sigh wearily, and remark,--"Is acheslant
+places, Sar; but was Gala Night, you see,"--an enigma, which those who
+run may read. He is always offering to do something, and doing _you_
+instead. He is absolutely unnecessary, for there is seldom anyone in a
+Grand Hotel to "chuck out," and this would be his only justification.
+
+ * * * * *
+
+THE "BLOWER" BURST UP!
+
+ The "Blower" came down, like the braggart he was,
+ And of winning the fight was peculiarly "poz;"
+ And the voice of his backers was loud in their glee;--
+ "We shall lick him in two rounds--or certainly three!"
+
+ Like the "Champion Slugger," in trunks of bright green,
+ The "Big Fellow" at Eight fifty-two might be seen:
+ Like a truculent Titan, blind, baffled, and blown,
+ At Ten thirty-seven the brute was o'erthrown.
+
+ For CORBETT smote fiercely, and CORBETT fought fast,
+ And the bullying bounder was beaten at last;
+ And the cheeks of the coarse woman-puncher were chill,
+ He rolled over, and struggled to rise, and lay still.
+
+ And there stood his foe with his nostrils all wide,
+ And the shouts of his backers rolled on in their pride.
+ The swells of the Ring and the stars of the Turf
+ Surged round like the waves of the storm-beaten surf.
+
+ And there lay the "Blower," distorted and pale,
+ With the blood on his brow where the blows fell like hail.
+ _His_ backers were silent, he lay there alone,
+ His mawleys unlifted, his trumpet unblown.
+
+ And the "Sports" of the South are all loud in their wail.
+ But _Punch_, who hates bullying brutes, can but hail
+ That smart Californian's pluck, skill, and strength,
+ Who has pricked the big SULLIVAN bladder--at length!
+
+ * * * * *
+
+"FONS ET ORIGO."--As to London Water "seek Wells," that is if you
+wish to avoid unpleasant seq-uels. "_Don't_ leave Wells alone" is our
+motto, meaning "Sir SPENCER" of that ilk, who has a deal worth hearing
+to say on this subject.
+
+ * * * * *
+
+[Illustration: TWO SIDES TO A QUESTION.
+
+_Major Podmore_. "CONGRATULATE YOU, DEAR BOY!"
+
+_Disappointed Cricketer_. "WHAT DO YOU MEAN? BOWLED FIRST BALL--NEVER
+GOT A RUN!"
+
+_Major Podmore_. "QUITE SO, DEAR BOY. BUT IN THIS HOT WEATHER--80 deg. IN
+THE SHADE--SO MUCH BETTER, IF YOU CAN, TO TAKE THINGS COOLLY!"]
+
+ * * * * *
+
+A ROUNDABOUT RAMBLE.
+
+(_A FACT FOUNDED ON FICTION._)
+
+The sharp, bright little Traveller made his way to the Cabinet of M.
+CARNOT, and disturbed him at work.
+
+"Do you know, M. Le President," said he, "that the Russians are in
+secret treaty with the English, and the Russo-French Alliance is all
+nonsense--the most unreliable of broken reeds?"
+
+"Well, no," replied CARNOT, "I have not heard anything of the sort;
+and, if anyone should be up in it--"
+
+But the Traveller did not want to hear the rest, for he was once again
+on his road, telling everyone he met the disquieting intelligence,
+and, consequently, the French people were greatly troubled.
+
+He was soon in Berlin. He did not ask for an interview with the
+KAISER, but took one.
+
+"Your Royal and Imperial Majesty," said he, "are you aware that Italy
+is in secret accord with France, and that the Triple Alliance is a
+sham, and that the cry _A Berlin!_ may be renewed at any moment?"
+
+"Well, no," said the Emperor, "I have not heard this; and if anyone
+should know anything about it, I fancy--"
+
+But the Traveller did not wait for the KAISER to finish the
+sentence, but was off again, telling everyone he met the disquieting
+intelligence. And, consequently, the German people were greatly
+troubled.
+
+Then the Traveller obtained admission, in the same unceremonious
+fashion, to the apartment occupied by the Emperor of AUSTRIA.
+
+"King of HUNGARY," said he, "are you aware that you cannot possibly
+rely upon your German neighbour, because the KAISER has a secret
+understanding with the CZAR, by which the Principalities will be
+included in Russian territory, and the Rhine secured from French
+invasion?"
+
+"No, I have not heard it," was the answer; "and, if it had been the
+case, I imagine that--"
+
+But again the Traveller left without waiting for the completion of
+the sentence, and went his way telling everyone he met the disquieting
+intelligence. And consequently, the Austro-Hungarian peoples were
+greatly troubled.
+
+And now the Traveller was in the presence of the Emperor of ALL THE
+RUSSIAS. Again he had obtained admission without the preliminary of an
+official introduction.
+
+"Little Father," said the Traveller, "are you aware that your youthful
+relative in Berlin is coquetting with France and England, and you may
+find the whole of Europe marshalled against you?"
+
+"Well, no I have not heard it," returned the CZAR; "and I really
+think--"
+
+But the Traveller never learned what the CZAR really thought, for he
+was away before His Imperial Majesty had completed the sentence. And
+as he went away, after his usual fashion, he spread the disquieting
+intelligence, and consequently the Russian people were greatly
+troubled.
+
+And now the Traveller was in Cairo. He presented himself before the
+KHEDIVE without waiting for the English adviser.
+
+"Your Highness, do you know that the British Army of occupation is on
+the eve of departure?" said he.
+
+"What, in spite of Lord ROSEBERY going to the Foreign Office!"
+exclaimed the SULTAN's vassal, in a tone of considerable astonishment.
+
+"Of course," replied the visitor. "Everything was settled long ago,
+and before Christmas there won't be a red-coat in Egypt!"
+
+"Indeed," returned His Highness, "I certainly have not heard it, and I
+fancy--"
+
+But the Traveller departed without ascertaining the drift of the
+KHEDIVE's fancies, and on his road, strictly according to precedent,
+spread the disquieting intelligence, and consequently the Egyptian
+people were greatly troubled.
+
+And now the Traveller was once more back in London. He entered Capel
+Court and rested himself. He said nothing. It was unnecessary, for he
+was well known, and his stories had already been discounted.
+
+"Ah, my little friend RUMOUR," said Mr. BULLBEAR; "you have come back
+again! And now you can rest for awhile, until we want you after the
+next account."
+
+So RUMOUR is waiting in the Stock Exchange until he is wanted after
+the next account!
+
+ * * * * *
+
+LETTERS TO ABSTRACTIONS.
+
+NO. XIV.--TO SWAGGER.
+
+I approach you with fear and trembling. Somewhere in the Cave of the
+Winds you have your home. The ancient Authors, to their discredit,
+make no mention of your existence there, but the fact is as I have
+stated it. The East wind blows into your gaping mouth, and forth you
+go, puffing and swelling with an alien importance, to do your hateful
+work. You hover over a second-rate Statesman, who has attracted the
+applause of a Party by an opportune speech, compiled by the industry
+of a humble Secretary. From that moment his nature changes. Though he
+may have been simple and beloved, yet, through you, he shall become
+pompous, and abhorred. His fellow-creatures are thenceforth mere
+material for his trampling feet; he swells into regions to which no
+criticism can reach; he covers himself in a triple hide of vanity,
+ostentation, and disdain; he hails himself continually as the unaided
+Saviour of his country, and dies in the odour of braggadocio, without
+a genuine friend to mourn his loss.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+Or, again, you select some common, smug-faced Clergyman, capable, no
+doubt, if he were left alone, of guiding his flock quietly into the
+strait paths of goodness and humility. You turn him into a loud-voiced
+Clerical quack, vending his wretched patent medicines of salvation
+in a style of offensive denunciation that would have ruined a host of
+Dulcamaras, trained in the insinuating methods of the ordinary trade.
+But on this the Clergyman thrives, and weak women fall prostrate
+before his roaring insincerity.
+
+Nor do you neglect the young. Heavens! I remember I was once favoured
+with the confidences of WILLIAM JOSKINS BACON, an Undergraduate,
+generally known to his intimates as "Side of Bacon." I shudder
+to recollect how that amazing creature discoursed to me about his
+popularity, his influence, his surprising deeds both of valour and of
+discretion. With one nod--and, as he spoke, he gave me an illustration
+of his Olympian method--he had awed his Head-master--a present
+ornament of the Bench of Bishops--into a terrified silence, from which
+he recovered only to bless the name of JOSKINS, and hold him up as a
+pattern to his schoolfellows. At a single phrase of scorn from those
+redoubtable lips, his College Tutor had withered into acquiescence,
+and had never dared to refuse him an _exeat_ from that day forth. "I
+can't help pitying the beggar," said JOSKINS--"but I had to do it.
+You must make these fellows feel you're their master, or they'll never
+give you a moment's peace. Halloa!" he continued, as a brawny athlete
+sauntered into the room, "how's the boat going, BULLEN? Not very well,
+eh? Well, remember I'm ready to lend you a hand, and pull you through
+when things get desperate." The smile with which this offer was
+received had no effect upon my companion. He took it rather as a
+tribute to the subtle humour which, as he believed, lay lurking in his
+simplest utterances. "Always make 'em laugh," he observed, with pride.
+"It keeps up the spirits of these poor devils of rowing-men; and old
+BULLEN knows I'm all there when I'm wanted." But I had heard enough,
+and departed from him, feeling as though a steam-roller had passed
+over my moral nature, and flattened out my self-respect.
+
+Then there was CHEPSTOWE, the poet. I am old enough to remember him;
+and it pleases me sometimes to call back to my mind this paltry and
+forgotten little literary _Bombastes_. As I write, I have before
+me some of the reviews that greeted his boisterous invasion of the
+regions of song. "Mr. CHEPSTOWE," said one, "has struck a note which
+is destined to vibrate so long as the English language is spoken in
+civilised lands. He is no ordinary rhymester, struggling feebly in the
+bonds of convention. With a bold and masterful on-rush, he cleaves his
+way unhesitatingly to the very heart of things, tears it out, and lays
+it, palpitating and bleeding, before the eyes of humanity. We have
+only space for a few lines from the magnificent _Ode to Actuality_:--
+
+ "'Prone in the caverns of the vasty deep
+ I lay,
+ And slept not, though I seemed to sleep.
+ The day
+ Pierced not with sullen eyes of pallid scorn
+ The dark,
+ Unplumbed abyss, where, girt with red limbs torn.
+ The shark
+ Sported, and eyeless monsters crawled in slime--'
+
+"No extract can, however, convey an adequate idea of this grand poem,
+on which, as on the bed rock, Mr. CHEPSTOWE's fame is established for
+ever, SHAKSPEARE himself might have been proud to have written it."
+I may remark, parenthetically, that in his "Ode" CHEPSTOWE pictured
+himself as a sort of animate skeleton:--
+
+ "Sockets where light once shone grinned emptiness;
+ The teeth
+ Were fallen from the gaping, gumless jaws; nathless
+ Beneath
+ The cold smooth skull, the brain retained her throne."
+
+Amid these uncomfortable surroundings CHEPSTOWE described himself as
+penetrated with raptures of fierce joy at having shaken himself free
+from the world and its puling insincerities to dwell amid "Unpitying
+shapes of death's dread twin despair," where "Rapine and slaughter
+raged, and none rebuked." Another reviewer observed that "The soul of
+ARCHER's, the tavern-brawler's glorious victim, KIT MARLOWE, has taken
+again a habitation of clay. She speaks trumpet-tongued by the mouth
+of Mr. CHEPSTOWE. We note in these outpourings of dramatic passion
+an audacity, an energy, an enthusiasm, that are calculated to shake
+Peckham Rye to its centre, and make Balham tremble in its ridiculous
+carpet slippers. Who--to take only one example--but Mr. CHEPSTOWE or
+MARLOWE could have written thus of 'Rapture'?--
+
+ "'Not in the mouths of prating men who deem
+ That God dwells in the senseless clay they mould,
+ Who live their little lives and die their deaths,
+ Lapped in a smug respectability;
+ Who never dreamt of breaking puny laws
+ Formed for a puny race of grovellers;
+ But in the blood-stained track of flaming swords,
+ Wielded by knotty arms in Man's despite,
+ Or on the wings of crashing battle-balls,
+ Bone-shattering dealers of a thousand wounds,
+ The roaring heralds of indignant God,
+ There rapture dwells, and there I too would dwell.'
+
+"Here is power that would furnish forth a whole legion of the
+poetasters who crawl through our effete literature!" But I cannot
+pursue these memories. They are too painful. For who speaks of
+CHEPSTOWE now? Who cares to cumber his bookshelves with the volumes
+in which this inflated arm-chair prophet of the tin pots delivered his
+shrieking message? His very name has flickered out; and when I spoke
+of him the other day, I was asked, by a person of some intelligence,
+if I referred to CHEPSTOWE who had just made 166 playing cricket for
+the Gentlemen against the Players. Not even the lion and the lizard
+keep his courts, and yet JAMSHYD CHEPSTOWE gloried and drank deep in
+his day. He blustered through many editions, he bellowed his contempt
+at a shrinking world, he outraged conventionality, he swung himself by
+the aid of newly-fashioned metres to lofty peaks of poetic daring, and
+to-day the dust lies thick upon his books, and his name is confounded
+with that of an eminent cricket-player!
+
+My excellent SWAGGER, it was meanly done. If you meant to wipe him out
+so swiftly, why did you ever exalt him?
+
+Farewell for a space. I may have to write to you again.
+
+Yours, DIOGENES ROBINSON.
+
+ * * * * *
+
+"USED UP."--Lord BRASSEY requested several papers last week to publish
+his denial as to having the finest collection of stamps in the world.
+His Lordship, it appears, "doesn't take the smallest interest in
+foreign stamps." Fortunate for Lord BRASSEY. There are some excellent
+people who can't get up any interest, or capital either, at all
+without a stamp of some sort. Lord BRASSEY wished it further known,
+that he was not a collector of curios, and had no curiosity of any
+kind. Lord BRASSEY must be a later edition of _L'Homme Blase_, to whom
+the world was round like an indiarubber-ball and "nothing in it."
+
+ * * * * *
+
+"IN NUBIBUS."--If the new Sky-signs with which we are threatened,
+_viz._, advertisements reflected in the clouds, become the fashion,
+the aspect of the heavens by daylight will be as delightful and
+artistic as are the walls of our hoardings and Railway-stations.
+The anthem of "_The Heavens are Telling_" will have to be adapted
+for large towns. Perhaps pictures may be projected on the nebulous
+back-ground. If so, some of our best Artists may not object to taking
+a good sum, and then having their work "Sky'd."
+
+ * * * * *
+
+PHANTASMA-GORE-IA!
+
+_PICTURING THE VARIOUS MODES OF MELODRAMATIC MURDER_. (_BY OUR
+"OFF-HIS"-HEAD POET_.)
+
+NO. I.--THE DAGGER MURDER.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+ They stand alone on the moonlit spot,--
+ Sing Ho--ho! and Ha--ha! there!
+ One is the villain, and one is not,
+ But the heroine's father.
+ They stand alone on the patch of light
+ (Which comes from the left as well as right)--
+ Oh, 'tis a glorious place and night
+ For a Murder Scene! Rather!
+
+ They talk of deeds (of the parchment kind)--
+ Sing Ha--ha! and Ho-ho! there!
+ The heavy father, to reason blind,
+ Has them with him to show there!
+ The deeds relate to the old man's will;
+ The villain wants them to pay a bill!
+ The night is cold, and the night is still
+ Let the music be slow there!
+
+ They stand alone in the pale-green light--
+ Sing Hey--hey! and he--he! there!
+ What is this flashing so keen and bright?
+ What is this that I see there?
+ Oh! deed of darkness in light descried!
+ Oh! villain thrice damn'd that blade to hide,
+ Right 'tween the arm on _the farther_ side--
+ Certain death when it be there!
+
+ They're still alone on the moonlit spot--
+ Sing He--he! and Hey--hey! there!
+ Though one is Standing,[1] and one is not,
+ For _one's_ cold as the clay there!
+ The villain covers the dead man's stare--
+ The corpse lies stiff in the limelight's glare!
+ The act is done!--and for all I care,
+ The dead body can stay there!
+
+[Footnote 1: HERBERT.]
+
+ * * * * *
+
+TO MY LUGGAGE-LABELS.
+
+ Wonderful pictures of purple and gold,
+ Ultramarine, and vermilion, and bistre;
+ Splendid inscriptions of hostels untold,
+ Touching memorials breathing of "Mr.;"
+ "Schweizerhof," "Bernerhof," "Hofs" by the score;
+ Signs of the Bear and the Swan, and the Bellevue,
+ Gasthaus, Albergo, Posada, galore--
+ Beautiful wrecks, how I wish I could shelve you!
+
+ Visions of Venice--her stones and her smells!
+ Whiffs of Cologne--aromatic mementos;
+ Visiting cards, so to speak, of hotels;
+ Como's, Granada's, Zermatt's and Sorrento's
+ Ah! how ye cling to my boxes and bags,
+ Glued with a pigment that baffles removal;
+ Dogged adherents in dirt and in rags;
+ Labels, receive my profane disapproval!
+
+ Much as I prized you, when roaming afield,
+ Loved you, when Life was metheglyn and skittles,
+ Wished you the spell of remembrance to wield,
+ Calling the scenery back and the victuals;
+ Still, when it blows and it rains, and it irks,
+ Here in apartments adjoining a seaview,
+ After a meal that would terrify Turks,
+ Somehow I feel I can scarcely believe you.
+
+ Yes! It's too much to remember the past--
+ Here, amid shrimps, and agilities nameless;
+ Glaciers gigantic, and Restaurants vast
+ Chime not with sands and a tablecloth shameless;
+ Smoking a pestilent, sea-side cigar,
+ Mewed in a lodging with children and nurses,
+ Epitaphs gorgeous of far "_Dolce far_,"
+ Curse you with paterfamiliar curses!
+
+ * * * * *
+
+THE UGLY FACE: A MORAL DUTY
+
+[Illustration: "A ready-made Comedian with fifty quid a week."]
+
+ Some years ago a babe was born--I need not name the place--
+ With a puffy, pasty, podgy, gutta-percha sort of face,
+ Which wrinkles sub-divided into funny little bits,
+ While beady eyes peered cunningly behind two tiny slits.
+
+ His nose was like a mushroom of the foreign button sort,
+ His form was quaint and chubby, and his legs were extra short;
+ That his nurse spoke like SAPPHIRA, I have always had a fear,
+ When she said he was a "beauty," and a "pretty little dear."
+
+ Yes, such remarks were really of the truth, a dreadful stretch,
+ For, in point of fact, that baby was a hideous little wretch;
+ And in course of time he grew up--though a loving mother's joy--
+ Into quite a champion specimen of the genius "ugly boy."
+
+ At school his teasing comrades gave him many comic names,
+ And he became the victim of all sorts of naughty games;
+ Nor did the master like him, for he felt that such a face,
+ Mid a row of ruddy youngsters, was extremely out of place.
+
+ In time, his father placed him in the City--as a clerk--
+ Where his personal appearance excited much remark;
+ But he fell out with his principal, whose customers complained,
+ That his clerk was making faces, and said "Bosh!" when he explained.
+
+ On perceiving from the office that he never would be missed,
+ As Mr. GILBERT puts it, he determined to enlist;
+ And so one summer afternoon he started forth in search
+ Of a Sergeant who perambulates close by St. Martin's Church.
+
+ The Sergeant burst out laughing when he'd uttered his request,
+ And declared that, of a batch of jokes he knew, this was the best;
+ "'Tis a pity you're too short, my lad," he then went on to say,
+ "For wid _that_ face ye'd froighten ivery inimy away!"
+
+ In a fountain which played handy--it was near Trafalgar Square--
+ He was rushing off to drown himself, the victim of despair,
+ When he knocked against a person he'd not seen for quite an age,
+ Who had left his home some years before, and gone upon the Stage.
+
+ To this friend he soon narrated his distressing tale of woe,
+ And declared his case was hopeless. But the actor said, "Not so.
+ There's _one_ thing, my fine fellow, that as yet you haven't tried,
+ Where your face will be your fortune, and a pound or two beside.
+
+ "With a mouth like yours to grin with, and your too delicious
+ squint,
+ And the ears that Nature's given you with such a lack of stint,--
+ No matter what an author may provide you with to speak,
+ You're a ready-made Comedian--with your fifty quid a week."
+
+ And it was so. Though he started at a figure rather less
+ Than the one that I have mentioned, still the truth I but express
+ When I say he now is earning such a wage as wouldn't shock
+ A respectable Archbishop or a fashionable jock.
+
+ And the face that all men sneered at, now is very much admired,
+ And the public ne'er, apparently, of watching it grows tired,
+ And the Merchant who dismissed him, in the Stalls is wont to sit,
+ While the Sergeant and his sweetheart are applauding from the Pit.
+
+ The moral of my narrative is easy to espy.
+ But still I'd better mention it, lest some should pass it by:
+ "Though it's often very troublesome indeed to find it out--
+ There's a proper sphere for _everyone_, beyond the slightest doubt."
+
+ * * * * *
+
+[Illustration: TECHNICALITIES.
+
+_First Amateur Water-Colourist._ "DO YOU _WASH_ MUCH?"
+
+_Second Ditto Ditto_. "NO; I _SCRATCH_ A GOOD DEAL!"]
+
+ * * * * *
+
+"PUTTING ON THE HUG."
+
+ [During President CARNOT's tour he received at Aix-les-Bains
+ "a delegation of children." One of these, clad in a Russian
+ dress, offered him a bunch of flowers, repeating a stanza
+ written for the occasion. M. CARNOT, amid cries of "_Vive
+ la France!_" "_Vive la Russie!_" "_Vive Carnot!_" "_Vive la
+ Republique!_" kissed the little girl, saying, "_J'embrasse la
+ Russie!_"]
+
+ Yes--"_Vive la France!_"--and "_Vive la Russie!_" too.
+ _Vive_--why not?--everybody!
+ Called once, "_Monsieur le President Faute-de-Mieux_"[2]
+ (By _Punch_, that foe of shoddy).
+ I fancy I have justified the name,
+ Ay, to the very letter.
+ I may not be a THIERS, but all the same,
+ France has not found a better.
+
+ Tall-talk is tedious, but one must not flinch
+ When asked the task to tackle;
+ And he's no Frenchman true who, at a pinch,
+ Cannot both crow and cackle.
+ Ah, _Vive_, once more, the Gallic Cock--and hen!
+ These Talking-Tours are trying,
+ But 'tis with windy flouts of tongue or pen,
+ We keep the French flag flying.
+
+ A sop for SAVOY neatly put, elicits
+ _Such_ "double rounds of cheering."
+ "_Vive CARNOT!_" To be sure! My annual visits,
+ France to the Flag endearing
+ By sweet-phrased flattery of the Fatherland,
+ Are sure to swell our legions.
+ "I wish, France, to be _thine_!" The effect was grand,
+ In "Allobrogian" regions.
+
+ _Vive_ Everything--especially _la Blague!_
+ (What _should_ we do without it?)
+ Fraternity! the Fatherland! the Flag!--
+ _I_ work them--never doubt it!
+ Then "_La Republique_" and "_La Russie_," linked,
+ Pair off, 'midst acclamations:
+ Yes, I proclaimed--and never winced or winked--
+ _That_ "brotherhood of nations!"
+
+ "A delegation of young children," Ah!
+ And they were not the only ones.
+ "Men are but children of a larger--" Bah!
+ Wise and strong _men_ are--lonely ones.
+ Most men--French-men--have touches of the child,
+ Fondness for show, fine phrases--
+ Pst! Here my _role_'s not cynical, but mild,
+ And open as dawn-daisies.
+
+ "_J'embrasse la Russie!_" That was rather neat
+ For "_Faute-de-Mieux_," at any rate.
+ Wondrous the magic power of _blague_, and "bleat"
+ On Man--_mouton_ degenerate!
+ That "_Bete Humaine_," as ZOLA dubs him. Gr--r--r!
+ The real brutes are braver;
+ The tiger, when in chase of prey, won't purr,
+ Nor will the Bear, then, slaver.
+
+ The Bear! Reminds me of a horrid dream
+ I had that night. A funny one,
+ But startling! I awoke with such a scream!
+ I dreamt some link (a money one?)
+ Bound me to a big Bruin, rampant, tall,
+ A regular Russian Shagbag,
+ In whose close hug I felt extremely small,
+ And squeezable as a rag-bag.
+
+ I, CARNOT, squeezable! 'Tis too absurd!
+ A President, and pliant!
+ But--in my dream--the raucous voice I heard
+ Of that grim ursine giant.
+ "Come to my arms! You'll find them strong and snug.
+ The North's _so_ true--and tender!"--
+ And then that monster huge put on the hug!
+ I thought my soul I'd render.
+
+ A bear's embrace, like a prize-fighter's grip,
+ Is close as passion's clasping.
+ "Welcome!" he grunted. "_I_'ll not let you slip!"
+ "Thanks! thanks!" I answered, gasping.
+ "_J'em--brasse--la--Rus--sie!_" Here my breath quite failed
+ In that prodigious cuddle.
+ 'Twas but a dream--How was it sleep prevailed
+ My meaning so to muddle?
+
+ "_J'embrasse la Russie!_" It was neatly phrased
+ As MOHRENHEIM admitted,
+ A President, in doggerel stanzas praised,
+ Must be so ready-witted,
+ Yet mild Republican and Autocrat,
+ Hugging in friendly seeming,
+ Suggest that _Someone_ may be cuddled _flat_--
+ At least in restless dreaming.
+
+[Footnote 2: See Cut so named, p. 279, Vol. 93, Dec. 17, 1887.]
+
+ * * * * *
+
+FROM THE VALE OF LLANGOLFLYN.
+
+DEAR MR. PUNCH,--I have just seen your Number with the Song of "The
+Golf Enthusiast." It occurs to me that no one has ever mentioned the
+fact that the Romans knew the game, for does not VIRGIL sing, "_Tee
+veniente die--Tee decedente canebat?_" I have not the book, and
+therefore can't give you the reference--but I know I am right, as I am
+
+A WELSH GOLFER.
+
+ * * * * *
+
+[Illustration: "PUTTING ON THE HUG!"
+
+M. LE PRESIDENT (_breathlessly_). "J'EM--BRASSE--LA RUSSIE!!"
+
+ ("An interesting incident occurred during the official
+ reception held by M. CARNOT at the Mairie. A child dressed in
+ the Russian national costume presented the President with
+ a bouquet, at the same time reciting a brief complimentary
+ speech. M. CARNOT smilingly embraced the child, saying, 'I
+ embrace Russia.'"--_Quoted from Daily Papers_.)]
+
+ * * * * *
+
+WHY YOUNG MEN DON'T MARRY.
+
+DEAR MR. PUNCH,--The reason is obvious. It is entirely owing to your
+advice to those about to marry--Don't! I myself have been on the brink
+of proposing to several thousand delightful girls, a large per centage
+of which, I am convinced, would have gladly accepted me. I have in
+every case been restrained by the recollection of your advice.--Your
+obedient and obliged Servant,
+
+HUGH ADOLPHUS LATCH-KEY.
+
+_Sept_. 5, 1892.
+
+DEAR MR. PUNCH,--The reason (which I confide to your ear, and yours
+alone) is obvious--the girls don't, and apparently _won't_ propose.
+Of course they ought--what else do we have Leap Year for? Take my own
+case. I am genuinely in love with ETHEL TRINKERTON, who has just been
+staying with us in the country for three weeks. She has paid me every
+kind of attention. In our neighbourhood, if A. carries B.'s umbrella,
+where A. and B. are of opposite sexes, it is regarded as an informal,
+though perfectly definite way of announcing an approaching engagement.
+She knew the custom, and _carried mine on no less than three
+occasions_. (It is entirely beside the point that it rained heavily
+each time.) Yet she left us yesterday without an approach to a
+proposal. She's fair enough herself, but is her conduct? It isn't
+as if I hadn't given her enough chances. It cost me a small fortune
+to bribe my small brother to keep away; and, time after time, I've
+consented to sit alone with her in the summer-house. It isn't as
+if she couldn't afford it. They tell me she has at least a thousand
+a-year in her own right (whatever that may be), which would do
+capitally. I happen to be penniless myself; but, as I heard her say,
+her idea of marriage was the union of "soul to soul," my want of a few
+paltry pence could hardly matter. It's particularly humiliating for
+me, as, after the repeated umbrella-carrying, everybody here thinks
+it's all settled. That, _Mr. Punch_, is the reason why, at any rate,
+_one_ young man doesn't marry.
+
+Yours, thoroughly aggrieved, BERTIE COOL-CHEEK,
+
+_Pickleton-in-the-Marsh, Kent_.
+
+P.S.--If ETHEL really didn't understand her position, and would like
+to reopen the matter, I would not be haughty about it.--B. C-C.
+
+DEAR, KIND, GOOD MR. PUNCH,--The reason is obvious--the men don't and
+won't propose to the right girls. Take my own case. I've just stayed
+three weeks with the COOL-CHEEKS, and felt quite certain BERTIE would
+have proposed. He had all the symptoms badly. I saw him give his
+little brother half-a-crown to go indoors for ten minutes, and the way
+he _would_ go in the summer-house and for long walks--with _me_--made
+it quite clear (as I thought) what was going to happen. Yet, he let
+me come away without a word! I'm sure _I_ don't want to run after him
+(or anybody else), but I _did_ think he meant something. We suited
+one another admirably. In fact, if he doesn't ask _me_ with all the
+opportunities he had, he'd ask no one.
+
+Yours, just-a-little-disappointed, ETHEL TRINKERTON,
+
+_The Thorns, Bayswater._
+
+P.S.--He carried my umbrella almost hourly--and you know what
+_that_ means. If BERTIE was only nervous, and would like another
+chance--well, we are always at home on Sunday afternoons.--E.T.
+
+ * * * * *
+
+[Illustration: A REAL CONVERT.
+
+_Local Preacher_ (_giving an account to the Vicar of the Parish of a
+dispute he has had with the Leading Lights of his Sect_). "YES, SIR,
+AFTER TREATMENT THE LIKES O' THAT, I SAYS TO 'EM, 'FOR THE FUTURE,'
+SAYS I, 'I CHUCKS UP ALL RELIGION, AND I GOES TO CHURCH!'"]
+
+ * * * * *
+
+A HINT TO EDITORS.
+
+ SCENE--_The Sanctum of a Newspaper Office. Editor discovered
+ (by Obtrusive Visitor) hard at work._
+
+_Obtrusive Visitor_. I trust that I have not come at an unfortunate
+moment?
+
+_Editor_ (_looking up from his desk_). Dear me! You here! Delighted to
+see you. But don't let me disturb you. Good-bye!
+
+_Ob. Vis._ (_seating himself_). No; I am afraid it is the other way. I
+know at this time of the week you must be exceptionally busy.
+
+_Ed._ (_with courteous impatience_). Not at all, but--
+
+_Ob. Vis._ Oh! thank you so much. Because it is the very last thing in
+the world I would like to do--to disturb you. And now, how are you?
+
+_Ed._ Quite well, thanks. But now, if you don't mind, I will just
+finish.
+
+ [_Turns to go on with his article._
+
+_Ob. Vis._ (_rejecting the hint_). I said to myself as I came along,
+Now I will look him up.
+
+_Ed._ Very kind of you, but--
+
+_Ob. Vis._ Oh, not in the least; and you know, my dear fellow, how I
+enjoy a chat.
+
+_Ed._ Yes,--and I, too. But just now--
+
+_Ob. Vis._ Quite so. You want me to do all the talking, as we haven't
+met for the last three weeks. Well, you must know we have been to
+Herne Bay, and--
+
+_Ed._ Yes; charming place. But just now I am--
+
+_Ob. Vis._ Quite so. But I didn't come to tell you about Herne Bay,
+although it is really a delightful spot. The air--
+
+_Ed._ Yes, I know all about it. First-rate, most salubrious, and the
+rest of it. But, my dear friend, you really must--
+
+_Ob. Vis._ Quite so! Yes, everyone knows all about Herne Bay; and I
+really came to ask you if you had any room for an article.
+
+_Ed._ (_roused_). My dear fellow, I assure you we are quite full for
+months. Any number of excellent things standing over.
+
+_Ob. Vis._ Oh, yes, I know you are always full. You told me so the
+last time I called.
+
+_Ed._ Quite so! Very sorry, but it can't be helped. Have to look so
+far ahead nowadays, you know.
+
+_Ob. Vis._ Certainly; and that is why I thought I would just bring a
+half-finished article and show you what I had dome, and complete it
+if you thought it would do. You can put it in whenever you like; so it
+would not hurt for standing over.
+
+_Ed._ (_with inspiration_). What is it called?
+
+_Ob. Vis._ "Russian Wheat and Chinese Tea or Free Trade in Australia."
+The subject is quite novel, and ought to attract considerable
+attention.
+
+_Ed._ Novel! Why, my dear fellow, I do believe I have an article
+somewhere in that heap upon the very subject.
+
+ [_Pretends to search pile of MS._
+
+_Ob. Vis._ (_uneasily_). Oh, never mind. I will read you what I have
+written, and--
+
+_Ed._ (_genially_). Oh, no, I won't give you the trouble. I will read
+you what _he_ has written, and then you can see.--Ah, here it is!
+
+ [_Produces enormous pile of MS._
+
+_Ob. Vis._ (_hesitating_). Well, perhaps, if you don't mind--
+
+ [_Suddenly remembers an appointment and exit. Editor resumes
+ hit work with an air of triumph. Curtain._
+
+ * * * * *
+
+THE THIEF'S MOTTO.--"Take things quietly."
+
+ * * * * *
+
+[Illustration: _Jones_. "HOW IS IT WE SEE YOU SO SELDOM AT THE CLUB
+NOW?"
+
+_Old Member_. "AH, WELL, YOU SEE, I'M NOT SO YOUNG AS I WAS; AND
+I'VE HAD A GOOD DEAL OF WORRY LATELY; AND SO, WHAT WITH ONE THING AND
+ANOTHER, I'VE GROWN RATHER FOND OF MY OWN SOCIETY."
+
+_Jones_. "EPICURE!"]
+
+ * * * * *
+
+TO A PHEASANT.
+
+A SPORTSMANLIKE(?) SONG FOR SEPTEMBER.
+
+AIR--"_You are Queen of my Heart To-night_."
+
+ I Stand in the copses sighing
+ As the cruel hours creep by,
+ And I see you slowly flying
+ Above the trees on high.
+ Your wondrous wealth, of feather
+ Has weaved a subtle spell,
+ And I softly wonder whether
+ You'd really taste as well.
+ For my hand is fairly steady
+ Though my heart is beating fast,
+ Oh, tell me that you too are ready
+ To make this hour your last.
+ For repentance may come when we're sober,
+ Let's seize on the chance while we may;
+ Then why should we wait till October?
+ Oh! Why not be shot to-day?
+ Oh! tell me why, why should I remember
+ With a thought of wild alarm,
+ That all through the month of sweet September
+ You should be free from harm.
+ Why, why does your beauty enslave me,
+ As it does, you're bound to allow
+ Oh! say but the word that will save me,
+ And tell me to shoot you now.
+ For my heart is wildly beating
+ (As it's often done before),
+ And the moments madly fleeting
+ Are going to come never more.
+ For repentance may come when we're sober,
+ Let's seize on the chance while we may,
+ Then why should we wait till October?
+ Oh! Why not be shot to-day?
+
+ * * * * *
+
+"THE GRATUITOUS OPINION."
+
+(_A STORY FOR THE LONG VACATION_.)
+
+The Eminent Lawyer was about to return to his private address, when
+there was a knock at the door of his Chambers. He attended to the
+summons himself, and found facing him an elderly and carefully dressed
+individual.
+
+"That some of my suburban neighbours desire the information, must be
+my excuse for troubling you," said the visitor.
+
+"Nay, do not apologise," returned the Eminent Q.C., "it is my
+pleasantest duty to give legal tips or applications to anybody. It is
+not altogether lucrative, as I deliver them for nothing, but then on
+the other hand, they are suitable for insertion in the papers, and
+that is a comforting consideration. What can I do for you?"
+
+[Illustration]
+
+"I have to ask you on behalf of my suburban neighbours," continued the
+visitor, "whether there is any principle which is accepted by Judges
+to regulate their decisions in cases where drunkenness seems to be the
+incentive of crime?"
+
+"I shall only be too glad to find a solution to a problem which
+appears one of great difficulty--the more especially as certain
+inhabitants of the suburbs are so deeply interested in the subject. It
+seems to me that some Judges think one way and some another."
+
+"That is strange," murmured the visitor. "Cannot their Lordships come
+to a common conclusion?"
+
+"I fear not," replied the Eminent Counsel, with a mournful smile. "It
+is merely a question of opinion. However, I take it that one would
+be perfectly safe to commit a murder under the influence of _delirium
+tremens_."
+
+"I am infinitely obliged to you for the information," said the
+visitor, "as now I know what to do."
+
+"You are not homicidal, I trust!" exclaimed the Lawyer, jumping up
+from his chair, and taking protection behind a desk. "I have the
+greatest possible objection to homicidal clients."
+
+"Be under no apprehension," was the reply. "I have a strong desire to
+shorten the life of a certain person, but have not the nerve to do it.
+If I ever succeed, will it be a case deserving capital punishment?"
+
+The Lawyer pondered a moment, and then replied. "I have no wish
+to offer my counsel; but, as you have exhausted my time for
+consideration, I would propose that you should try the matter for
+yourself. Become intoxicated, put yourself within the clutches of the
+law, and then see whether his Lordship will assume the black cap."
+
+"You are very good," returned the would-be homicide, "but I have
+one difficulty. When I make up my mind to remove a person by
+unconventional means (for choice, a carving-knife), and consume the
+necessary amount of alcohol to insure intoxication--"
+
+"Yes," interjected the Lawyer, who had now opened the outer door.
+
+"I find, on reaching intoxication, that I have entirely forgotten the
+identity of the man I have marked for my victim. Then I have got to
+grow sober before I can remember who it is. Annoying, isn't it?"
+
+And, wishing the Eminent Counsel a pleasant holiday, the visitor
+disappeared into the Inner Temple.
+
+ * * * * *
+
+[Illustration: AT THE SOUTH SEA-SIDE.]
+
+ * * * * *
+
+THE HAT TO THE PARASOL.
+
+(_A SCHERZO IN NOBS AND STICKS._)
+
+[Illustration]
+
+ Reflection polished of highbred
+ And unreflecting graces,
+ I scintillate o'er STREPHON's head
+ At gala, rout or races;
+ Mine is the black but comely blend,
+ And mine the crowning touches
+ That so demurely recommend
+ The dandy to the duchess.
+
+ Out on thee, cruel Parasol,
+ Of lace, the pearl, and satin;
+ And glinting like a fairy doll
+ With many a burnished patin;
+ Cool, charming as the dainty dame
+ Who twirls thy coromandel;
+ Thou flauntest proudly since thy name,
+ Like hers, can boast its handle!
+
+ The cynosure of wondering _beaux_,
+ I boast a soul above thee;
+ No fate can mar my calm repose,
+ Or make me cease to love thee;
+ Supreme above the common tile,
+ My own affronts unheeding,
+ I bow and compliment and smile,
+ The Chesterfield of breeding.
+
+ Out on thee, trinket idly swayed!
+ Could any courtier dare see,
+ Through such perfections so displayed,
+ The mere "_Belle Dame sans merci_"?
+ Could man believe a thing so soft,
+ So framed for gentle passion,
+ Might wound, and wound not once but oft
+ The jaunty glass of fashion?
+
+ Yet sooth it is; and here I stand
+ A martyr to my tenets--
+ That orthodoxy smooth and grand
+ Of LINCOLN's fane and BENNETT's;
+ Unruffled once and unperplexed,
+ Collapsing now like jelly,
+ And but a sermon on the text
+ _Sic transit lux capelli_.
+
+ I who have braved our fitful climes
+ And laughed when tempest drenches,
+ And shaken off the dust that grimes
+ Pews, cushioned stalls and benches,
+ Survived the counterblasting Row,
+ And Summer gales that roar so--
+ I ne'er imagined such a foe
+ Could trounce me to a torso.
+
+ * * * * *
+
+THE POTATO AND THE HEPTARCHY.
+
+(_A SENSIBLE SONG FOR THE SILLY SEASON._)
+
+ ["Even the Potato and the Heptarchy will not leave us
+ perfectly equipped."--_The Daily News on "Why Young Men Don't
+ Marry."_]
+
+ The Tater and the Heptarchy
+ Were walking hand-in-hand;
+ They wept like "first-night" Stalls to see
+ The folly of the land;
+ "If fools would not talk fiddlededee,"
+ They said "it _would_ be grand!"
+
+ "If modest maids with towzled mops
+ On _you_ and _me_ were clear,
+ Do you suppose," the Tater said,
+ "More men would wed each year?"
+ "I doubt it," said the Heptarchy--
+ "They only mean to sneer!
+
+ "'O Maidens, come and cook for us!'
+ They--shamming love--beseech.
+ 'Oh, tell us about Saxon times!
+ The course of history teach!'
+ But what they really want is 'tin;'
+ A thumping share for each.
+
+ "A girl may cook like any _chef_,
+ And know all HALLAM through,
+ May be a dab at darning socks,
+ Or making Irish stew;
+ But what young cubs care for is cash,
+ And not for me _or_ you.
+
+ "They want to lead an easy life,
+ And have good weeds and wine.
+ Without these luxuries, a wife
+ They scornfully decline.
+ For _Benedick's_ life of manly strife
+ The fops are far too fine."
+
+ "The Season's come," the Tater said,
+ "To write of many things:
+ Of frocks--and socks--and needle-work--
+ And babes--and bonnet-strings;
+ But all the lot talk utter rot.
+ Let the fools have their flings!
+
+ "Their jibes at girls, their games, their curls,
+ Their wastefulness, their waist,
+ Their yearnings to hook Dukes and Earls,
+ Their matrimonial haste,
+ Are the crude chat of cubs and churls,
+ And in the vilest taste.
+
+ "But when they prate of you and me,
+ As the two gifts _they_ want,
+ Say Classic lore and Cookery
+ Are things for which _they_ pant;
+ Believe me, my dear Heptarchy,
+ They plumb profoundest Cant!"
+
+ * * * * *
+
+SEA-SIDE ILLS.
+
+(_BY OUR MAN OVER-BORED._)
+
+SEA-SIDYLL--THE PIER BAND.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+ 'Tis the Band of the Corporation--
+ And it plays on that body's pier;
+ And one knows by the way
+ That the instruments play,
+ That the talent is not too dear.
+ And the trombone is not too clear;
+ When it has to play quick
+ It is moistful and thick,
+ For the trombone is fond of beer--
+ It is nurtured on pots of beer.
+
+ 'Tis the Band of the Corporation--
+ And the cornet is fat just here;
+ And he's short, and bull-necked.
+ When you come to reflect
+ How he wastes all his wind, 'tis queer
+ That the man should be stout just here!
+ But the noise of the throat
+ In the solos denote
+ That the cornet is fond of beer--
+ It's been brought up on pots of beer.
+
+ 'Tis the Band of the Corporation--
+ And I know why that Band is queer,
+ For I see in the face
+ Of the trombone a trace
+ Of the blackguard who blows it near
+ Me in Town, at most times of year!
+ And I mark, too, the face
+ Of that beastly big-bass--
+ (Which has also been reared on beer)--
+ And I know, too, the face
+ Of that other disgrace,
+ The fat cornet! They've come down here--
+ They've been borrowed, and lent new gear!
+
+ But I know them of old,
+ And in spite of the gold
+ Round the hats, with the peaks just here,
+ I can see who they are while near.
+ They wear bowlers in Town,
+ And frock-coats which are brown,
+ On account of their age--or beer!
+ For they play to the public for beer;
+ For they stand and they blow
+ On the kerb in a row,
+ And then go to the public for beer!
+ And so this is the Band down here!
+
+ * * * * *
+
+"THREE CHOIRS FESTIVAL."--Curious coincidence, if true, that when Miss
+JESSIE KING was charmingly giving the contralto song, "_While my Watch
+I'm Keeping_," a gentleman in the crowded audience suddenly put his
+hand to his waistcoat-pocket and exclaimed, "Good gracious! it's
+gone!" He will never forget the title of that song. The watch was off
+its guard.
+
+ * * * * *
+
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+
+
+
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