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diff --git a/15366-h/15366-h.htm b/15366-h/15366-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..5cd1f9d --- /dev/null +++ b/15366-h/15366-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,2490 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Transitional//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-transitional.dtd"> + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml"> +<head> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" + content="text/html; charset=iso-8859-1" /> + + <title>Punch, September 24, 1892.</title> + <style type="text/css"> + /*<![CDATA[*/ + + <!-- + body {margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + p {text-align: justify;} + blockquote {text-align: justify;} + h1,h2,h3,h4,h5,h6 {text-align: center;} + pre {font-size: 0.7em;} + .sc {font-variant: small-caps;} + + hr {text-align: center; width: 50%;} + html>body hr {margin-right: 25%; margin-left: 25%; width: 50%;} + hr.full {width: 100%;} + html>body hr.full {margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 0%; width: 100%;} + hr.short {text-align: center; width: 20%;} + html>body hr.short {margin-right: 40%; margin-left: 40%; width: 20%;} + + .note, .footnote {margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-size: 0.9em;} + + span.pagenum + {position: absolute; left: 1%; right: 91%; font-size: 8pt; text-indent: 0;} + + .poem + {margin-left:10%; margin-right:10%; margin-bottom: 1em; text-align: left;} + .poem .stanza {margin: 1em 0em 1em 0em;} + .poem p {margin: 0; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + .poem p.i2 {margin-left: 1em;} + .poem p.i4 {margin-left: 2em;} + .poem p.i6 {margin-left: 3em;} + .poem p.i8 {margin-left: 4em;} + .poem p.i10 {margin-left: 5em;} + + .drama {margin-bottom: 1em; text-align: left;} + .drama p {margin: 1em 0em 0em 0em;; padding-left: 2em; text-indent: -2em;} + .drama p.i2 {margin: 0; margin-left: 1em;} + .drama p.i4 {margin: 0; margin-left: 2em;} + .drama p.i6 {margin: 0; margin-left: 3em;} + .drama p.i8 {margin: 0; margin-left: 4em;} + .drama p.i10 {margin: 0; margin-left: 5em;} + + .figure, .figcenter, .figright, .figleft + {padding: 1em; margin: 0; text-align: center; font-size: 0.8em;} + .figure img, .figcenter img, .figright img, .figleft img + {border: none;} + .figure p, .figcenter p, .figright p, .figleft p + {margin: 0; text-indent: 1em;} + .figcenter {margin: auto;} + .figright {float: right;} + .figleft {float: left;} + + p.author {text-align: right;} + --> + /*]]>*/ + </style> +</head> + +<body> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Punch, Or The London Charivari, Vol. 103, +Sep. 24, 1892, by Various + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Punch, Or The London Charivari, Vol. 103, Sep. 24, 1892 + +Author: Various + +Release Date: March 15, 2005 [EBook #15366] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PUNCH *** + + + + +Produced by Malcolm Farmer, William Flis, and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team. + + + + + + +</pre> + + <h1>PUNCH,<br /> + OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.</h1> + + <h2>Vol. 103.</h2> + <hr class="full" /> + + <h2>September 24, 1892.</h2> + <hr class="full" /> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page133" + id="page133"></a>[pg 133]</span> + + <h2>'ARRY AT 'ARRYGATE.</h2> + + <div class="figright" + style="width:38%;"> + <a href="images/133.png"><img width="100%" + src="images/133.png" + alt="" /></a> + </div> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>DEAR CHARLIE,—Rum mix this 'ere world is, yer + never know <i>wot</i>'ll come next!</p> + + <p>Don't emagine I've sent yer a sermon, and treacle + this out as my text;</p> + + <p>But really life's turn-ups are twisters. You lay out + for larks, 'ealth, and tin,</p> + + <p>But whenever you think it's "a moral," that crock, + "Unexpected," romps in.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Who'd ha' thought of <i>me</i> jacking up suddent, + and giving the Sawbones a turn?</p> + + <p>Who'd ha' pictered <i>me</i> "Taking the Waters"? + Ah! CHARLIE, 'twos hodds on the Urn</p> + + <p>With Yours Truly, this time, I essure you. I fancied + as Tot'nam-Court Road</p> + + <p>Would he trying its 'and on my tombstone afore the + green corn wos full growed.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p><i>Bad</i>, CHARLIE? You bet! 'Twas screwmatics and + liver, old Pill-box declared.</p> + + <p>Knocked me slap orf my perch, fair 'eels uppards. I + tell you I felt a bit scared,</p> + + <p>And it left me a yaller-skinned skelinton, weak, + and, wot's wus, stoney-broke.</p> + + <p>If it hadn't a bin for my nunky, your pal might have + jest done a croak.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Uncle NOBBS, a Cat's-butcher at Clapton, who's bin + in luck's way, and struck ile,</p> + + <p>Is dead nuts on Yours Truly. Old josser, and grumpy, + but <i>he</i>'s made his pile.</p> + + <p>Saw me settin' about in the garden, jest like a old + saffron-gill'd ghost</p> + + <p>A-waiting for cock-crow to 'ook it, and hanxious to + 'ear it—a'most.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Sez he, "Wy, the boy is a bone-bag! Wot's that? + Converlescent? Oh, fudge!</p> + + <p>He's a slipping his cable, and drifting out + sea-wards, if <i>I</i>'m any judge.</p> + + <p>I was ditto some twenty year back, BOB, and + 'Arrygate fust set <i>me</i> up.</p> + + <p>Wot saved the old dog, brother ROBERT, may probably + suit the young pup.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>"Carn't <i>afford</i> it? O'course yer carn't, + JENNY; but—thanks be to + 'orse-flesh—<i>I</i> can—"</p> + + <p>Well, he tipped us a fifty-quid crisp 'un—and + ROOSE sent me 'ere; he's <i>my</i> Man!</p> + + <p>Three weeks' "treatment"! Well, threes into fifty + means cutting a bit of a dash;</p> + + <p>Good grub, nobby togs, local doctor, baths, waters, + and everythink flash.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>"'Appy 'ARRY!" sez you. But way-oh, CHARLIE! + 'Arrygate isn't all jam.</p> + + <p><i>Me</i> jolly? Well, mate, if you arsk me, I + carn't 'ardly say as I ham.</p> + + <p>To spread myself out with the toppers is proper, no + doubt, bonny boy;</p> + + <p>But—I wish it wos Brighton, or Margit, or + somewheres a chap could <i>enjoy</i>.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Oh, them "Waters," old man!!! S'elp me never! yer + don't kow wot nastyness <i>is</i></p> + + <p>Till you've tried "Sulphur 'ot and strong," fasting. + The Kissing Gin, taken a-fizz,</p> + + <p>Isn't <i>wus</i> than ditch-water and sherbet; but + Sulphur!!! It's eased my game leg;</p> + + <p>But I go with my heart in my mouth, and I feel like + a blooming bad hegg.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>B-r-r-r-r! Beastliness isn't the word, CHARLIE. + Language seems out of it, slap.</p> + + <p>When I took my fust twelve ounces 'ot, from a gal + with a snowy white cap,</p> + + <p>And cheeks like a blush-rose for + bloominess—well, I'm a gent, but, yah-hah!</p> + + <p>I jest did a guy at the double, without even nodding + ta-ta!</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Where the Primrose Path leads to, my pippin, I'm + cocksure can't 'ave a <i>wus</i> smell.</p> + + <p>Like bad eggs, salt, and tenpenny nails biled in + bilge water. Eugh! Old Pump Well?</p> + + <p>Wy then let well alone, is my motter, or leastways, + it would be, I'm sure,</p> + + <p>But for BLACK—local doctor, a + stunner!—who's got me in 'and for a cure.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>I'm not nuts on baths took <i>too</i> reglar; but + 'Arrygate baths ain't 'arf bad,</p> + + <p>When you git a bit used to 'em, CHARLIE. I squirmed, + though fust off, dear old lad!</p> + + <p>They so soused, and so slapped, and so squirted me. + Messing a feller about</p> + + <p>Don't come nicer for calling it <i>massage</i>. But + there, it's O.K. I've no doubt.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>They squat you upon a low shelf, with a sort of a + water-can "rose"</p> + + <p>At the nape of yer neck, while a feller in front + squirts yer down with a 'ose.</p> + + <p>He slaps you as though you wos batter, he kneads you + as if you wos dough,</p> + + <p>And gives yer wot for on the spine, till you git in + a doose of a glow.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Then you're popped in a big iron cage, where the + 'ose plays upon you like fun;</p> + + <p>A lawn, or a house a-fire, CHARLIE, could not be + more thoroughly done.</p> + + <p>Sez I, "I'm <i>insured</i>, dontcher know, mate; so + don't <i>waste</i> the water, d'ye 'ear?"</p> + + <p>But he didn't appear to arf twig. He seemed jest a + bit thick in the clear.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Then the bars of yer cage bustes out like a lot of + scent fountings a-play—</p> + + <p>'Taint <i>oder colong</i>, though, by hodds; sulphur + strong seems the local <i>bokay</i>.</p> + + <p>They call this the "Needle Bath," CHARLIE. It give + <i>me</i> the needle fust off;</p> + + <p>'Cos the spray would git into my eyes, and the + squelch made me sputter and cough.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Then they wrop you well up in 'ot towels, and leave + yer five minutes to bake,</p> + + <p>And that's the "<i>Aix Douche</i>," as they call it. + <i>I</i> call it the funniest fake</p> + + <p>In the way of a bath I 'ave met with; but, bless + yer, it passes the time,</p> + + <p>And <i>I</i> shan't want a tub for a fortnit when + back in Old Babbylon's grime.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Dull 'ole, this 'ere 'Arrygate, CHARLIE! The only + fair fun <i>I</i> can find</p> + + <p>Is watching the poor sulphur-swiggers, a-gargling + and going it blind.</p> + + <p>Oh, the sniffs and sour faces, old fellow, the + shudders and shivers, and sighs;</p> + + <p>The white lips a-working like rabbits', the sheepish + blue-funk in their eyes!</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Old Pump Room's a hoctygon building, rum blend like + of chapel and bar,</p> + + <p>With a big stained-glass winder one side, + hallygorical subject! So far</p> + + <p>As I've yet made it out, it's a hangel a-stirring up + somethink like suds.</p> + + <p>"A-troubling the waters," I 'eard from a party in + clerical duds.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>You arsk, like you do at a bar, for the speeches of + lotion you want.</p> + + <p><i>Some</i> say; you git used to the flaviour, and + <i>like it</i>! Bet long hodds <i>I</i> shan't.</p> + + <p>I've sampled the lot, my dear CHARLIE, Strong + Sulphur and Mild, Cold <i>and</i> 'Ot;</p> + + <p>And all I can say is, the jossers who say it ain't + beastly talk rot.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>You jest fox their faces! They enters, looks round, + gives a shy sort of sniff,</p> + + <p>Seem to contemplate doing a guy, brace their legs, + keep their hupper lips stiff;</p> + + <p>Take their tickets, walk up to the counter, assumin' + a sham sort of bounce,</p> + + <p>And ask, shame-faced like, for their gargle, 'as + p'r'aps is a 'ot sixteen hounce.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>When they git it, a-fume in a tumbler, a-smelling + like hegg-chests gone wrong,</p> + + <p>They squirm, ask the snowy-capped gurl, "Is + <i>this</i> right?"—"Yes, Sir. Sixteen ounce, + strong!"</p> + + <p>Sez the minx with a cold kind o' smile. + "Ah—h—h! <i>per</i>cisely!" they smirks, + and walks round,</p> + + <p>With this "Yorkshire Stinko" in their + 'ands—and their 'earts in their mouths I'll be + bound.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Then—Gulp! Oh Gewillikins, CHARLIE! it gives + yer the ditherums, it do.</p> + + <p>Bad enough if you 'ave to wolf <i>one</i>, but it + fair gives yer beans when 'tis <i>two</i>.</p> + + <p>The wictims waltz round, looking white, wishing + someone would just spill <i>their</i> wet,</p> + + <p>And—there's 'ardly a glass "returned empty" + but wot shows its 'eel-taps, you bet!</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>This is "Taking the Waters" at 'Arrygate! Well, I + shall soon take my 'ook.</p> + + <p>Speshal Scotch, at my favourite pub, from that + sparkling young dona, NELL COOK,</p> + + <p>Will do me a treat arter this, mate, and come most + pertikler A 1.</p> + + <p>'Ow I long to be back in "The Village," dear boy, + with its bustle and fun!</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Still, the air 'ere's as fresh as they make it, and + gives yer a doose of a peck,</p> + + <p>And DUNSING, the Boss at "The Crown," does yer + proper. I came 'ere a wreck;</p> + + <p>But sulphur, sound sleep, and cool breezes, prime + prog, and good company tells;</p> + + <p>So 'ere's bully for 'Arrygate, CHARLIE, in spite of + rum baths and bad smells.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>That Fifty is nearly played out, and my slap at the + Ebor went wrong—</p> + + <p>I'd a Yorkshire tyke's tip, too, old man; but I'm + stoney, though still "going strong"</p> + + <p>(As <i>Lord Arthur</i> remarks in the play), so no + more at "The Crown" I must tarry,</p> + + <p>But if 'Arrygate wants a good word—as to + 'ealth—it shall 'ave it from</p> + </div> + </div> + + <p class="author">'ARRY.</p> + <hr /> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page134" + id="page134"></a>[pg 134]</span> + + <div class="figcenter" + style="width:100%;"> + <a href="images/134.png"><img width="100%" + src="images/134.png" + alt="THE FIGHTING 'FOUDROYANT.'" /></a> + + <h3>THE FIGHTING "FOUDROYANT."</h3> + </div> + <hr /> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page135" + id="page135"></a>[pg 135]</span> + + <div class="figcenter" + style="width:100%;"> + <a href="images/135.png"><img width="100%" + src="images/135.png" + alt="'TWO'S COMPANY.'" /></a> + + <h3>"TWO'S COMPANY."</h3> + + <p><i>Newspaper Boy</i> (<i>suddenly, at window</i>). "WANT + AN <i>OBSERVER</i>, CAPTAIN?"</p> + + <p><i>Mathilde</i> (<i>on Honeymoon Trip</i>). "OH, + FREDDIE, DEAR! NO! NO!! <i>DO</i> LET US BE QUITE + ALONE!"</p> + </div> + <hr /> + + <h2>THE FIGHTING "FOUDROYANT"</h2> + + <h3 class="sc">Being Tugged to its Last Berth—in a + Shipbreaker's Yard.</h3> + + <h4>(<i>A Theme from Turner treated in Modern British style, + with Apologies to the Patriotic Painter of "The Fighting + 'Téméraire.'"</i>)</h4> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>"Mayhap you have heard, that as dear as their + lives,</p> + + <p>All true-hearted Tars love their ships and their + wives."</p> + + <p>So DIBDIN declared, and he spoke for the Tar;</p> + + <p>He knew Jack so well, both in peace and in war!</p> + + <p>But hang it! times change, and 'tis sad to + relate,</p> + + <p>The old Dibdinish morals seem quite out of date;</p> + + <p>Stick close to your ship, lads, like pitch till you + die?—</p> + + <p>That sounds nonsense to-day, and I'll tell ye for + why.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>The good old <i>Foudroyant</i>—how memory + dwells on</p> + + <p>Those brave fighting names!—was once flag-ship + to NELSON.</p> + + <p>But NELSON, you know, died a good while ago,</p> + + <p>And his flag-ship has gone a bit shaky, and so</p> + + <p>JOHN BULL, who's now full of low shopkeeping + cares,</p> + + <p>And thinks more of the Stocks than of naval + affairs,</p> + + <p>Regards not "Old Memories," that "eat off their + head."</p> + + <p>Turn old cracks out to grass? No, let's sell 'em + instead!</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>A ship's like the high-mettled racer once sung</p> + + <p>By that same dashing DIBDIN of patriot tongue,</p> + + <p>Grown aged, used up, is he honoured? No, zounds!</p> + + <p>"The high-mettled racer is sold to the hounds!"</p> + + <p>And so with a barky of glorious name,</p> + + <p>(It is business, of course—<i>and a Thundering + Shame!</i>)</p> + + <p>Worn out, she is nought but spars, timbers and + logs,</p> + + <p>And so, like the horse, should be sold—to the + dogs!</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>As for the <i>Foudroyant</i>, the vessel was + trim</p> + + <p>When it fought with the French, for JOHN BULL, under + <i>Him</i>,</p> + + <p>The Star of the Nile. Yes, it carried <i>his</i> + flag,</p> + + <p>When it captured the Frenchman. There's no need to + brag,</p> + + <p>Or to say swagger things of a generous foe.</p> + + <p>Besides, things have doosedly altered, you know.</p> + + <p><i>We</i>'re no more like NELSON than I to a + Merman;</p> + + <p><i>We</i> can sell his flag-ship for firewood, to + the German!</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Sounds nice, does it not? If that great one-armed + Shade</p> + + <p>Could look down on the bargain he'd—swear, I'm + afraid</p> + + <p>(If his death-purged bold spirit held yet ought of + earth).</p> + + <p>And I fancy 'twill move the gay Frenchman to + mirth</p> + + <p>To hear this last story of shop-keeping + JOHN—</p> + + <p>Or his huckster officials. The Frenchman, the + Don,</p> + + <p>The Dutchman, all foes we have licked,—may wax + bold</p> + + <p>When they hear that the brave old <i>Foudroyant</i> + is—Sold!!!</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Great TURNER has pictured the old + <i>Téméraire</i></p> + + <p>Tugged to <i>her</i> last berth. Why the sun and the + air</p> + + <p>In that soul-stirring canvas, seem fired with the + glory</p> + + <p>Of such a brave ship, with so splendid a story!</p> + + <p>Well, look on that picture, my lads, and on + <i>this</i>!</p> + + <p>And—no, do not crack out a curse like a + hiss,</p> + + <p>But with stout CONAN DOYLE—<i>he</i> has + passion and grip!—</p> + + <p>Demand that they give us back NELSON's old Ship!</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>British hands from protecting her who shall + debar?</p> + + <p>Ne'er ingratitude lurked in the heart of a Tar.</p> + + <p>"(Sings DIBDIN) That Ship from the breakers to + save"</p> + + <p>Is the plainest of duties e'er put on the brave.</p> + + <p>While a rag, or a timber, or spar, she can + boast,</p> + + <p>A place of prime honour on Albion's coast</p> + + <p>Should be hers and the <i>Victory's!</i> Let us not + say,</p> + + <p>Like the fish-hucksters, "<i>Memories</i> are cheap, + Sir, to-day!"</p> + </div> + </div> + <hr /> + + <p>ECCLESIASTICAL TASTE.—A condiment not much in favour + with High Churchmen just now, must be "Worcester Sauce." It is + warranted to neutralise the very highest flavour.</p> + <hr /> + + <h4>Impromptu.</h4> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Of "garnered leaves"</p> + + <p>And "garnered sheaves"</p> + + <p class="i2">Sing sentimental donkeys.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Perhaps e'er long</p> + + <p>Their simple song</p> + + <p class="i2">Will be of Garnered Monkeys!</p> + </div> + </div> + <hr /> + + <p>"A railway from Joppa to Jerusalem" sounds like a Scriptural + Line. In future, "going to Jericho" will not imply social + banishment, as the party sent thither will be able to take a + return-ticket.</p> + <hr /> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page136" + id="page136"></a>[pg 136]</span> + + <div class="figcenter" + style="width:65%;"> + <a href="images/136.png"><img width="100%" + src="images/136.png" + alt="OF MALICE AFORETHOUGHT." /></a> + + <h3>OF MALICE AFORETHOUGHT.</h3> + + <p><i>Cheery Official.</i> "ALL FIRST CLASS 'ERE, + PLEASE?"</p> + + <p><i>Degenerate Son of the Vikings</i> (<i>in a feeble + voice</i>). "<i>FIRST CLASS?</i> NOW DO I <i>LOOK + IT</i>?"</p> + </div> + <hr /> + + <h2>THE LAY OF THE LAST KNIGHT.</h2> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>My name and style are ELLIS ASHMEAD BART—</p> + + <p>Ah! happy augury. Would I could</p> + + <p>Leave it so. But 'twill not do.</p> + + <p>Like soap of Monkey brand,</p> + + <p>It will not wash clothes,</p> + + <p>Or, in truth, ought else.</p> + + <p>'Tis but an accident of rhythm</p> + + <p>Born of the imperative mood that makes one</p> + + <p>Start a poem of this kind on ten feet,</p> + + <p>Howe'er it may thereafter crawl or soar.</p> + + <p>What I really was about to remark was that</p> + + <p>My name and style are ELLIS ASHMEAD BART-</p> + + <p>LETT, Knight; late Civil Lord of Admiralty</p> + + <p>You know me. I come from Sheffield; at least</p> + + <p>I did on my return thence</p> + + <p>Upon re-election.</p> + </div> + </div> + + <h4>II.</h4> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>A sad world this, my masters, as someone—</p> + + <p>Was it my friend SHAKSPEARE?—</p> + + <p>Says. The sadness arises upon reflection, not</p> + + <p>That I'm a Knight, but that I am, so to speak,</p> + + <p>A Knight of only two letters.</p> + + <p>As thus—Kt. 'Tis but a glimmer of a night,</p> + + <p>If I, though sore at heart, may dally with</p> + + <p>The English tongue</p> + + <p>And make a pensive pun.</p> + </div> + </div> + + <h4>III.</h4> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Of course I expected different things from</p> + + <p>The MARKISS.</p> + + <p>What's the use, what's the purpose,</p> + + <p>Of what avail, wherefore,</p> + + <p>That a man should descend from the</p> + + <p>Spacious times of ELIZABETH with nothing</p> + + <p>In his hand other than a simple Knighthood?</p> + + <p>Anyone could do that.</p> + + <p>It might be done to anyone.</p> + + <p>He, him, all, any, both, certain, few,</p> + + <p>Many, much, none, one, other, another.</p> + + <p>One another, several, some, such and whole.</p> + + <p>Why, he made a Knight</p> + + <p>At the same time,</p> + + <p>In the same manner,</p> + + <p>Of</p> + + <p class="i4">MAPLE</p> + + <p class="i8">BLUNDELL!</p> + </div> + </div> + + <h4>IV.</h4> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Look here, MARKISS, you know,</p> + + <p>This won't do.</p> + + <p>It may pass in a crowd, but not with</p> + + <p>ELLIS ASHMEAD BART—</p> + + <p>(There it is again. Evidently doesn't matter</p> + + <p>About the feet)</p> + + <p>LETT.</p> + </div> + </div> + + <h4>V.</h4> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>And yet MARKISS, mine,</p> + + <p>I shall not despair.</p> + + <p>You are somewhat out of it</p> + + <p>At the present moment.</p> + + <p>And I am not sure—</p> + + <p>Not gorged with certainty—</p> + + <p>That Mr. G. would be</p> + + <p>Inclined to make amends.</p> + + <p>He is old; he is agëd.</p> + + <p>Prejudice lurks amid</p> + + <p>His scant white locks,</p> + + <p>And forbids the stretch-</p> + + <p>Ing forth of generous hand in whose</p> + + <p>Recesses coyly glint</p> + + <p>The Bart. or K.C.B.</p> + </div> + </div> + + <h4>VI.</h4> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>But you are not everyone;</p> + + <p>Nor is he. Nor do both together</p> + + <p>In the aggregate</p> + + <p>Compose the great globe</p> + + <p>And all that therein is.</p> + + <p>I'll wait awhile, possessing my soul in</p> + + <p>Patience.</p> + + <p>Everything comes to the man who waits.</p> + + <p>(Sometimes, 'tis true, 'tis the bobby</p> + + <p>Who asks what he's loafing there for,</p> + + <p>And bids him</p> + + <p>Move on.</p> + + <p>That is a chance the brave resolute soul</p> + + <p>Faces.) The pity of it is</p> + + <p>That you, MARKISS, having so much to give,</p> + + <p>So little gave</p> + + <p class="i6">To</p> + + <p class="i10">Me.</p> + </div> + </div> + + <h4>VII.</h4> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Oh, MARKISS! MARKISS!</p> + + <p>Had I but served my GLADSTONE</p> + + <p>As I have served thee,</p> + + <p>He would not have forsak—</p> + + <p>But that's another story.</p> + </div> + </div> + <hr /> + + <p>THE NEW HOPERA OF 'ADDON 'ALL.—The title finally + decided upon for the SULLIVAN-GRUNDY Opera is <i>Haddon + Hall</i>. Lovely for 'ARRY! "'Ave you seen <i>'Addon 'All</i>?" + Then the 'ARRY who 'as only 'eard a portion of it, will say, "I + <i>'addn</i>'t 'eard <i>'all.</i>" As a Cockney title, it's + perfect. Successful or not, Author and Composer will + congratulate themselves that, to deserve, if not command + success, they <i>'ad don all</i> they knew. If successful, + they'll replace the aspirates, and it will be some time before + they recover the exact date when they Had-don Hauling in the + coin. <i>Prosit!</i></p> + <hr /> + + <p>MISCARRIAGE OF JUSTICE.—Says the <i>Pall Mall + Gazette</i>:—"For knocking over a man selling watercress, + with fatal results, a Hammersmith cabman has been committed for + trial for manslaughter." If this is true, the HOME SECRETARY + should immediately interpose. The action of knocking a man over + is hasty, and may be indefensible. But if the Hammersmith + Cabman had just grounds for belief that the man was "selling + watercresses with fatal results," he should rather be commended + than committed for trial.</p> + <hr /> + + <p>"KEEPING-UP THE CHRISTOPHER."—(<i>A Note from an Old + Friend</i>).—"CHRISTOPHER COLUMBUS" indeed! As years ago + I told <i>Sairey Gamp</i> about her bothering <i>Mrs. + Harris</i>, "I don't believe there's no sich a person." That's + what I says, says I, about COLUMBUS, wich ain't like any other + sort of "bus" as I see before my blessed eyes every day.</p> + + <p class="author">Yours,<br /> + ELIZABETH PRIG.</p> + + <p>P.S.—Mr. EDWIN JOHNSON, him as wrote to the + <i>Times</i> last Saturday, is of my opinion. Good Old + JOHNSON!</p> + <hr /> + + <p>"HONORIS CAUSÂ."—To Mr. GRANVILLE MONEY, son of the + Rector of Weybridge, whose gallant rescue of a lady from + drowning has recently been recorded, <i>Mr. Punch</i> grants + the style and title of "Ready MONEY."</p> + <hr /> + + <p>QUESTION AND ANSWER.—"Why don't I write Plays?" Why + should I?</p> + <hr /> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page137" + id="page137"></a>[pg 137]</span> + + <h2>LETTERS TO ABSTRACTIONS.</h2> + + <h3>No. XV.—TO SWAGGER.</h3> + + <div class="figright" + style="width:30%;"> + <a href="images/137.png"><img width="100%" + src="images/137.png" + alt="Chepstowe." /></a> + </div> + + <p>Not long ago I reminded you of CHEPSTOWE, the incomparable + poet who was at one time supposed to have revolutionised the + art of verse. Now he is forgotten, the rushlight which he never + attempted to hide under the semblance of a bushel, has long + since nickered its last, his boasts, his swelling literary + port, his quarrels, his affectations—over all of them the + dark waves of oblivion have passed and blotted them from the + sand on which he had traced them. But in his day, as you + remember, while yet he held his head high and strutted in his + panoply, he was a man of no small consequence. Quite an army of + satellites moved with him, and did his bidding. To one of them + he would say, "Praise me this author," and straightway the fire + of eulogy would begin. To another he would declare—and + this was his more frequent course—"So-and-so has dared to + hint a fault in one of us; he has hesitated an offensive + dislike. Let him be scarified," and forthwith the painted and + feathered young braves drew forth their axes and + scalping-knives, and the work of slaughter went merrily + forward. Youth, modesty, honest effort, genuine merit, a + manifest desire to range apart from the loud storms of literary + controversy, these were no protection to the selected victim. + And of course the operations of the Chepstowe-ites, like the + "plucking" imagined by <i>Major Pendennis</i>, were done in + public. For they had their organ. Week by week in <i>The + Metropolitan Messenger</i> they disburdened themselves, each + one of his little load of spite and insolence and vanity, and + with much loud shouting and blare of adulatory trumpets called + the attention of the public to their heap of purchasable + rubbish. There lived at this time a great writer, whose name + and fame are still revered by all who love strong, nervous + English, vivid description, and consummate literary art. He + stood too high for attack. Only in one way could the herd of + passionate prigs who waited on CHEPSTOWE do him an injury. They + could attempt, and did, to imitate his style in their own + weekly scribblings. <i>Corruptio optimi pessima</i>. There is + no other phrase that describes so well the result of these + imitative efforts. All the little tricks of the great man's + humour were reproduced and defaced, the clear stream of his + sentences was diverted into muddy channels, the airy creatures + of his imagination were weighted with lead and made to perform + hideous antics. Never had there been so riotous a jargon of + distorted affectation and ponderous balderdash. + Smartness—of a sort—these gentlemen, no doubt, + possessed. It is easy to be accounted smart in a certain + circle, if only you succeed in being insolent. Merit of this + order the band could boast of plenteously.</p> + + <p>One peculiarity, too, must be noted in <i>The Metropolitan + Messenger</i>. It had a magnetic attraction for all the sour + and sorry failures whose reputation and income, however greatly + in excess of their deserts, had not equalled their expectation. + The Cave of Adullam could not have been more abundantly stocked + with discontent. It is the custom of the <i>ratés</i> + everywhere to attempt to prevent, or, if that be impossible, to + decry success in others, in order to exalt themselves. The + "Metropolitans" followed the example of many unillustrious + predecessors, though it must, in justice, be added, that they + would have been shocked to hear anyone impute to them a want of + originality in their curious methods. In the counsels of these + literary bravos, WILLIAM GRUBLET held a high place. At the + University, where he had pursued a dull and dingy career of + modified respectability, not much was thought or spoken of + GRUBLET. If he was asked what profession he proposed to adopt, + he would wink knowingly, and reply, "Journalism." It sounded + well—it gave an impression of influence, and future + power, and, moreover, it committed him to nothing. It is just + as easy to say "Journalism," in answer to the stock question, + as it is to deliver yourself over, by anticipation, to the Bar, + the Church, or the Stock Exchange. Hundreds of young men at + both our ancient Universities look upon Journalism as the + easiest and most attractive of all the professions. In the + first place there are no Examinations to bar the way, and your + ordinary Undergraduate loathes an Examination as a rat may be + supposed to loathe a terrier. What can be easier—in + imagination—than to dash off a leading article, a biting + society sketch, a scathing review, to overturn ancient idols, + to inaugurate movements, to plan out policies? All this GRUBLET + was confident of being able to do, and he determined, on the + strength of a few successful College Essays, and a reputation + for smartness, acquired at the expense of his dwindling circle + of intimates, to do it. He took his degree, and plunged into + London. There, for a time, he was lost to public sight. But I + know that he went through the usual contest. Rejected + manuscripts poured back into his room. Polite, but + unaccommodating Editors, found that they had no use for vapid + imitations of ADDISON, or feeble parodies of CHARLES LAMB. + Literary appreciations, that were to have sent the ball of fame + spinning up the hill of criticism, grew frowsy and dog's-eared + with many postages to and fro.</p> + + <p>In this protracted struggle with fate and his own + incompetence, the nature of GRUBLET, never a very amiable one, + became fatally soured, and when he finally managed to secure a + humble post on a newspaper, he was a disappointed man with rage + in his heart against his successful rivals and against the + Editors who, as he thought, had maliciously chilled his glowing + aspirations. His vanity, however,—and he was always a + very vain man—had suffered no diminution, and with the + first balmy breezes of success his arrogance grew unbounded. + Shortly afterwards, he chanced to come in the way of CHEPSTOWE; + he impressed the poet favourably, and in the result he was + selected for a place on the staff of <i>The Metropolitan + Messenger</i>, then striving by every known method to battle + its way into a circulation.</p> + + <p>It was at this stage in his career that I met GRUBLET. He + was pointed out to me as a young man of promise who had a + trenchant style, and had lately written an article on + "Provincialism in Literature," which had caused some stir by + its bitter and uncompromising attacks upon certain well-known + authors and journalists. I looked at the man with some + interest. I saw a pale-faced, sandy-haired little creature with + a shuffling, weak-kneed gait, who looked as if a touch from a + moderately vigorous arm would have swept him altogether out of + existence. His manner was affected and unpleasant, his + conversation the most disagreeable I ever listened to. He was + coarse, not with an ordinary coarseness, but with a kind of + stale, fly-blown coarseness as of the viands in the window of a + cheap restaurant. He assumed a great reverence for RABELAIS and + ARISTOPHANES; he told shady stories, void of point and humour, + which you were to suppose were modelled on the style of these + two masters. And all the time he gave you to understand, with a + blatant self-sufficiency, that he himself was one of the + greatest and most formidable beings in existence. This was + GRUBLET as I first knew him, and so he continued to the + end.</p> + + <p>The one thing this puny creature could never forgive was + that any of his friends should pass him in the race. There was + one whom GRUBLET—the older of the two—had at one + time honoured with his patronage and approval. No sooner, + however, had the younger gained a literary success, than the + sour GRUBLET turned upon him, and rent him. "This fellow," said + GRUBLET, "will get too uppish—I must show up his trash"; + and accordingly he fulminated against his friend in the organ + that he had by that time come to consider as his own. This + baseless sense of proprietorship, in fact, it was that wrecked + GRUBLET. In an evil moment for himself he tried to ride + rough-shod over CHEPSTOWE, and that temporary genius dismissed + him with a promptitude that should stand to his credit against + many shortcomings. GRUBLET, I believe, still exists. + Occasionally, in obscure prints, I seem to detect traces of his + style. But no one now pays any attention to him. His claws are + clipped, his teeth have been filed down. He shouts and struts, + unregarded. For we live, of course, in milder and more + reasonable days, and the GRUBLETS can no longer find a popular + market for their wares.</p> + + <p>Only one question remains. How in the world can even you, oh + respected SWAGGER, have derived any pleasure from witnessing + the performances that GRUBLET went through, after you had + persuaded him that he was a man of some importance? I do not + expect an answer, and remain as before,</p> + + <p class="author">DIOGENES ROBINSON.</p> + <hr /> + + <p>IN BANCO.—The stability of the concern having been + effectually proved by the way in which the Birkbeckers got out + of the fire and out of the trying pan-ic, and the ease with + which they were quite at home to the crowds of callers coming + to inquire after their health, should earn for them the + subsidiary title of the Birk-beck-and-call Bank.</p> + <hr /> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page138" + id="page138"></a>[pg 138]</span> + + <div class="figcenter" + style="width:100%;"> + <a href="images/138.png"><img width="100%" + src="images/138.png" + alt="A GOOD BEGINNING." /></a> + + <h3>A GOOD BEGINNING.</h3> + + <p><i>Uncle Jack</i> (<i>Umpire</i>). "LOVE ALL!"</p> + + <p><i>Monsieur le Baron</i>. "LOVE ALL? PARBLEU! JE CROIS + BIEN! ZEY ARE <i>ADORABLES</i>, YOUR NIECES!"</p> + </div> + <hr /> + + <h2>PAN THE POSTER.</h2> + + <h4>(<i>A Modern Perversion of Mrs. Browning's powerful Poem, + "A Musical Instrument."</i>)</h4> + + <blockquote class="note"> + <p>["We are presented just now with two spectacles, which + may help us to take modest and diffident views of the + progress of the species.... At home there is an utterly + unreasonable and unaccountable financial panic among the + depositors in the Birkbeck Bank, while in America the free + and enlightened democracy of a portion of New York State + has suddenly relapsed into primitive barbarism under the + influence of fear of cholera."—<i>The Times</i>.]</p> + </blockquote> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>What is he doing, our new god Pan,</p> + + <p class="i2">Far from the reeds and the river?</p> + + <p>Spreading mischief and scattering ban,</p> + + <p>Screening 'neath "knickers" his shanks of a + goat,</p> + + <p>And setting the wildest rumours afloat,</p> + + <p class="i2">To set the fool-mob a-shiver.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>He frightened the shepherds, the old god + Pan,<a id="footnotetag1" + name="footnotetag1"></a><a href="#footnote1"><sup>1</sup></a></p> + + <p class="i2">Him of the reeds by the river;</p> + + <p>Afeared of his faun-face, Arcadians ran;</p> + + <p>Unsoothed by the pipes he so deftly could play,</p> + + <p>The shepherds and travellers scurried away</p> + + <p class="i2">From his face by forest or river.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>And back to us, sure, comes the great god Pan,</p> + + <p class="i2">With his pipes from the reeds by the + river;</p> + + <p>Starting a scare, as the goat-god can,</p> + + <p>Making a Man a mere wind-swayed reed,</p> + + <p>And moving the mob like a leaf indeed</p> + + <p class="i2">By a chill wind set a-quiver.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>He finds it sport, does our new god Pan</p> + + <p class="i2">(As did he of the reeds by the + river),</p> + + <p>To take all the pith from the heart of a man,</p> + + <p>To make him a sheep—though a tiger in + spring,—</p> + + <p>A cruel, remorseless, poor, cowardly thing,</p> + + <p class="i2">With the whitest of cheeks—and + liver!</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>"Who said I was dead?" laughs the new god Pan</p> + + <p class="i2">(Laughs till his faun-cheeks quiver),</p> + + <p>"I'm still at my work, on a new-fangled plan.</p> + + <p>Scare is my business; I think I succeed,</p> + + <p>When the Mob at my minstrelsy shakes like a + reed,</p> + + <p class="i2">And I mock, as the pale fools + shiver."</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Shrill, shrill, shrill, O Pan!</p> + + <p class="i2">Your Panic-pipes, far from the river!</p> + + <p>Deafening shrill, O Poster-Pan!</p> + + <p>Turning a man to a timorous brute</p> + + <p>With irrational fear. From your frantic flute</p> + + <p class="i2">Good sense our souls deliver!</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Men rush like the Gadaree swine, O Pan!</p> + + <p class="i2">With contagious fear a-shiver,</p> + + <p>They flock like <i>Panurge's</i> poor sheep, O + Pan!</p> + + <p>What, what shall the merest of manhood quicken</p> + + <p>In geese gregarious, panic-stricken</p> + + <p class="i2">Like frighted fish in the river.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>You sneer at the shame of them, Poster-Pan,</p> + + <p class="i2">Poltroons of the pigeon-liver.</p> + + <p>Your placards gibbet them, Poster-Pan,</p> + + <p>Who crowd like curs in the cowardly crush,</p> + + <p>Who flock like sheep in the brainless rush</p> + + <p class="i2">With fear or greed a-shiver.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>You are half a beast, O new god Pan!</p> + + <p class="i2">To laugh (as you laughed by the + river)</p> + + <p>Making a brute-beast out of a man:</p> + + <p>The true gods sigh for the cost and pain</p> + + <p>Of Civilisation, which seems but vain</p> + + <p class="i2">When the prey of your Panic shiver!</p> + </div> + </div> + + <blockquote class="footnote"> + <a id="footnote1" + name="footnote1"></a><b>Footnote 1:</b> + <a href="#footnotetag1">(return)</a> + + <p>Pan, the Arcadian forest and river-god, was held to + startle travellers by his sudden and terror-striking + appearances. Hence sudden fright, without any visible + cause, was ascribed to Pan, and called a Panic fear.</p> + </blockquote> + <hr /> + + <h2>SIR GEORGE AND THE DRAG ON.</h2> + + <h4><i>By a Writer of Books.</i></h4> + + <blockquote class="note"> + <p>[Sir GEORGE TREVELYAN, speaking to the Institute of + Journalists, said that "No one was under the obligation of + writing books, unless he was absolutely called to do so by + a commanding genius."]</p> + </blockquote> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Oh! tell me quickly—not if Planet Mars</p> + + <p>Is quite the best for journalistic pars,</p> + + <p>Not if the cholera will play Old Harry,</p> + + <p>Not why to-day young men don't and won't + marry—</p> + + <p>For these I do not care. Not to dissemble,</p> + + <p>My pen is, as they say, "all of a + tremble"—</p> + + <p>The pen that once enthralled the myriad crowd,</p> + + <p>The pen that critics one and all allowed</p> + + <p>Wrote pleasantly and well, was often funny,</p> + + <p>The pen that brought renown, + and—better—money.</p> + + <p>My pen is stilled. That happy time is o'er,</p> + + <p>Like that old English King, I smile no more.</p> + + <p>Now that Sir (Secretary) GEORGE has spoken,</p> + + <p>My fortunes (and alas! my heart) are broken;</p> + + <p>For though I may not lack all understanding,</p> + + <p>My "genius" cannot claim to be "commanding."</p> + </div> + </div> + <hr /> + + <p>FLOWERY, BUT NOT MEALY-MOUTHED.—To those who suggested + that sending troops to compel the barbarous Long-Islanders to + be humane would lose Democratic votes, Governor FLOWER is + reported to have replied,—"I don't care a —— + for votes. I am going to put law-breakers down, and the State + in possession of its property." There was an old song, of which + the refrain was, "I don't care a —— for the people, + But what will the Governor say?" Now we know what the Governor + says. 'Tis well said. Henceforth he will be known as <i>The</i> + FLOWER of Speech.</p> + <hr /> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page139" + id="page139"></a>[pg 139]</span> + + <div class="figcenter" + style="width:100%;"> + <a href="images/139.png"><img width="100%" + src="images/139.png" + alt="PAN THE POSTER." /></a> + + <h3>PAN THE POSTER.</h3>PAN (<i>chuckling</i>). "HA! HA! + WHO SAID THAT I WAS DEAD, AND PANIC-FEAR A THING OF THE + ARCADIAN PAST?" + </div> + <hr /> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page141" + id="page141"></a>[pg 141]</span> + + <h2>SEA-SIDE ILLS.</h2> + + <h4>(<i>By Our Man Over-bored.</i>)</h4> + + <h3 class="sc">A Sea S-Idyll on "Board and Residence."</h3> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>That we hurry out of Town</p> + + <p class="i10">To the sea,</p> + + <p>To be properly done brown,</p> + + <p class="i10">I'll agree;</p> + + <p>But of being nicely done,</p> + + <p>There's another way than one—</p> + + <p>Viz., the <i>rays</i>, besides of sun,</p> + + <p class="i10"><i>£</i> <i>s.</i> <i>d.</i>!</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Now, it may be very cheap</p> + + <p class="i10">For the chap</p> + + <p>Who is rich, to pay a heap</p> + + <p class="i10">For a nap</p> + + <p>On a sofa that is prone</p> + + <p>To a prominence of bone,</p> + + <p>Or a table undergrown,</p> + + <p class="i10">With a flap;</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>But a man who has not much</p> + + <p class="i10">Of the pelf</p> + + <p>To distribute freely, such</p> + + <p class="i10">As myself,</p> + + <p>And who's ordered change and rest,</p> + + <p>Doubts the change is for the best</p> + + <p>When he has to lie undress'd</p> + + <p class="i10">On a shelf!</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>No; to slumber on a slant</p> + + <p class="i10">Till you're floor'd,</p> + + <p>Is a luxury I can't</p> + + <p class="i10">Well afford;</p> + + <p>And I'm sad to a degree</p> + + <p>That, in Everywhere-on-Sea,</p> + + <p>"Board and Residence" should be</p> + + <p class="i10">Mostly <i>board</i>!</p> + </div> + </div> + <hr /> + + <p>"DISCOVERY OF A NEW SATELLITE TO JUPITER."—Well, why + not? Why announce it as if a noted thief had been arrested? + "Discovered! Aha! Then this to decide"—cries the + Melodramatic Satellite. Poor Jupiter must be uncommonly tired + of his old Satellites by this time! How pleased, how delighted, + he must be to welcome a new one!</p> + <hr /> + + <div class="figcenter" + style="width:65%;"> + <a href="images/141-1.png"><img width="100%" + src="images/141-1.png" + alt="VIEW OF 'MARS' AS SEEN THROUGH MR. PUNCH'S TELESCOPE." /> + </a> + + <h3>VIEW OF "MARS" AS SEEN THROUGH MR. PUNCH'S + TELESCOPE.</h3> + </div> + <hr /> + + <h3>MORE LIGHTS!</h3> + + <div class="figleft" + style="width:25%;"> + <a href="images/141-2.png"><img width="100%" + src="images/141-2.png" + alt="A Straight Tip and a New Sensation." /></a>A + Straight Tip and a New Sensation. + </div> + + <p>When anyone now in town requires a change from the + <i>De</i>-lights of Home, let him go to <i>See Lights of + Home</i> at the Adelphi. Great scene of the Wreck not so great + perhaps as some previous sensational Adelphi effects. In such a + piece as "the Lights," it is scarcely fair that "the Heavies" + should have it nearly all to themselves, but so it is, and the + two Light Comedy parts capitally played by Miss JECKS and Mr. + LIONEL RIGNOLD, do not get much of a chance against the + heartrending sorrows of Miss EVELYN MILLARD, and of Mrs. + PATRICK CAMPBELL, the slighted, or sea-lighted heroine, known + as "Dave's Daughter" (oh, how fond Mr. W.A. ELLIOTT must be of + <i>Dave Purvis</i>, the weakest + sentimentalist-accidental-lunatic-criminal that ever was let + off scot-free at R.H. first entrance before the fall of the + Curtain), and the undaunted heroism and unblushing villany of + Messrs. CHARLES DALTON, COCKBUKN, KINGSTON & Co. The title + might well have been, <i>Good Lights of Home, and Wicked Livers + all Abroad</i>.</p> + <hr /> + + <p>"TOP-DRESSING."—Said Mr. G. to a Welsh audience, "I + might as well address the top of Snowdon on the subject of the + Establishment, as address you on the matter." Flattery! The top + of Snowdon, of course, represented the highest intelligence in + Wales.</p> + <hr /> + + <p>"I pity the poor Investors!" exclaimed Mrs. R. + sympathetically, when she saw the heading of a paragraph in the + <i>Times</i>—"Bursting of a Canal Bank."</p> + <hr /> + + <p>A BIG BOOMING CHANCE LOST!—Miss LOTTIE COLLINS, + according to the <i>Standard's</i> report of the proceedings on + board the unfortunate <i>Cepheus</i>, said that, on seeing two + jeering men rowing out from shore, holding up bread to the + hungry passengers, she, "had she been a man, would have shot + them." She wasn't a man, and so the two brutes escaped. But + what another "<i>Boom! te-ray,—Ta, ra, ra</i>," &c., + &c., this would have been for LA COLLINS!</p> + <hr /> + + <p>NOT IMPROBABLE.—Lord ROSEBERY might have ended his + diplomatic reply to Mr. THOMAS GIBSON BOWLES, M.F., who + recently sent kind inquiries to the Foreign Office, as to the + Pamirs and Behring Sea, Canadian Government, &c., &c., + with a P.S. to the effect that "his correspondent probably + considered him as a Jack (in office), and therefore a + legitimate object to score off in the game of BOWLES."</p> + <hr /> + + <p><i>The Prodigal Daughter; or, The Boyne-Water Jump</i>, by + DRURIOLANUS MAGNUS and PETTITT PARVUS, was produced with + greatest success, last Saturday, at Old Drury. The general + recommendation to the authors will be, as a matter of course, + <i>i.e.</i>, of race-course, given in the historic words of + DUCROW, "Cut the cackle and come to the 'osses." When this + advice is acted upon, <i>The Prodigal Daughter</i>, a very fine + young woman, but not particularly prodigal, will produce + receipts beyond all cacklelation.</p> + <hr /> + + <p>FUTURE LEGISLATION FOR NEXT SESSION.—Mr. GLADSTONE + will introduce a Bill to render criminal the keeping of heifers + loose in a field.</p> + <hr /> + + <p>BY A PARAGRAPHIC JOURNALIST.—Very natural that there + should be "pars" about "Mars."</p> + <hr /> + + <p>"SIGNAL FAILURES."—Most Railway Accidents.</p> + <hr /> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page142" + id="page142"></a>[pg 142]</span> + + <div class="figcenter" + style="width:65%;"> + <a href="images/142.png"><img width="100%" + src="images/142.png" + alt="CULTURE BY THE SEA." /></a> + + <h3>CULTURE BY THE SEA.</h3> + + <p>"HAVE YOU BROWNING'S WORKS?"</p> + + <p>"NO, MISS. THEY'RE TOO DIFFICULT. PEOPLE DOWN HERE DON'T + UNDERSTAND THEM."</p> + + <p>"HAVE YOU <i>PRAED</i>?"</p> + + <p>"PRAYED, MISS? OH YES; WE'VE TRIED THAT, BUT IT'S NO + USE!"</p> + </div> + <hr /> + + <h2>THE CHÂTEAU D'"IF."</h2> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>The Castle that I sing, is not</p> + + <p class="i2">The strong-hold <i>près + Marseilles</i>,</p> + + <p>Where <i>Monte Christo</i> brewed his plot</p> + + <p class="i2">For DUMAS' magic tale:</p> + + <p>It's one we all inhabit oft,</p> + + <p class="i2">The residence of most,</p> + + <p>And not peculiar to the soft,</p> + + <p class="i2">Mediterranean coast.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>The Castle "If"—If pigs had wings,</p> + + <p class="i2">If wishes horses were,</p> + + <p>If, rather more substantial things,</p> + + <p class="i2">My Castles in the air;</p> + + <p>If balances but grew on Banks,</p> + + <p class="i2">If Brokers hated "bluff;"</p> + + <p>If Editors refrained from thanks</p> + + <p class="i2">And printed all my stuff.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>If holidays were not a time</p> + + <p class="i2">Beyond a chap's control,</p> + + <p>When someone else prescribes how I'm</p> + + <p class="i2">To bore my selfish soul;</p> + + <p>If bags and boxes packed themselves</p> + + <p class="i2">For one who packing loathes;</p> + + <p>If babes, expensive little elves,</p> + + <p class="i2">Were only born with clothes</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>If <i>Bradshaw</i> drove me to the train!</p> + + <p class="i2">Were <i>mal-de-mer</i> a name!</p> + + <p>If organ-grinders ground a strain</p> + + <p class="i2">That never, never came;</p> + + <p>If oysters stuck at eighteen pence;</p> + + <p class="i2">If ladies loathed "The Stores;"</p> + + <p>If Tax-collectors had the sense</p> + + <p class="i2">To overlook my doors!</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>If sermons stopped themselves to suit</p> + + <p class="i2">A congregation's pain;</p> + + <p>If everyone who played the flute</p> + + <p class="i2">Were sentenced to be slain;</p> + + <p>If larks with truffles sang on trees,</p> + + <p class="i2">If cooks were made in heaven;</p> + + <p>And if, at sea-side spots, the seas</p> + + <p class="i2">Shut up from nine till seven.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>If <i>I</i> might photograph the fiend</p> + + <p class="i2">Who mauls me with his lens,</p> + + <p>If supercilious barbers leaned</p> + + <p class="i2">Their heads for <i>me</i> to cleanse!</p> + + <p>If weather blushed to wreck my plans,</p> + + <p class="i2">If tops were never twirled;</p> + + <p>If "Ifs and ands were pots and pans,"—</p> + + <p class="i2">'Twould be a pleasant world!</p> + </div> + </div> + <hr /> + + <p>SUMMARY OF RESULT FOR OLD CATHOLIC + CONGRESS.—<i>Lucernâ Lucellum</i>.</p> + <hr /> + + <h2>LADY GAY'S SELECTIONS.</h2> + + <p class="author"><i>Mount Street, Grosvenor Square</i>.</p> + + <p>DEAR MR. PUNCH,—I got so wet on the St. Leger day, + that I've been in bed ever since—not because I had to + wait till my things were dry—but because I caught a cold! + <i>What</i> a day it was!—I am told that in addition to + the St. Leger, Doncaster is chiefly celebrated for <i>Butter + Scotch</i>—if so, I presume they don't make it + out-of-doors, or it would have stood a good chance of being + melted—(not in the mouth)—on Wednesday fortnight! + But the excitement of the race fully made up for the liquid + weather, and we all—(except the backers of + <i>Orme</i>)—enjoyed ourselves. I was told that the Duke + of WESTMINSTER had "left the Leger at Goodwood," which is + simply absurd, as I not only saw it run for at Doncaster + myself, but it is ridiculous to insinuate that the Duke went + there, put the Leger in his pocket—(as if a Nobleman ever + kept books)—walked off quietly to Goodwood and left it + there deliberately!</p> + + <p>I conclude it can only be an expression coined to + discount—(another ledger term)—the victory of <i>La + Flèche</i>,—to which not half enough attention has been + drawn, solely (in my opinion) because <i>La Flèche</i> is of + the gentler sex, and men don't like the "horse of the year" to + be a mare.</p> + + <p>I still maintain she was unlucky to lose the Derby, as she + won the Oaks two days later in two seconds quicker + time:—(which is an anachronism—as if you win + <i>once</i> out of <i>twice</i>—how can it be two + <i>seconds</i>?)</p> + + <p>There was good sport at Yarmouth last week, though owing to + the rain the course must have been on the soft (roe) + side,—by the way you can get them now in bottles, and + very good they are. I am glad to see that staunch supporter of + the turf, Lord ELTHAM, winning races again—as his horses + have been much out of form lately, at least so I am told, but I + was not aware that horses were in a "form" at all, unless being + "schooled" over hurdles.</p> + + <p>I shall have a word or two to say on the Cesarewitch + shortly—having had some private information calculated to + break a ROTHSCHILD if followed—but for the moment will + content myself with scanning the programme of the Leicester and + Manchester Meetings.</p> + + <p>There are two races which seem perhaps worth picking + up—one at each place; and, while giving my selection for + the Leicestershire race in the usual verse, I will just mention + that I should have given Lord DUNRAVEN's <i>Inverness</i> for + the Manchester race, but that I see his Lordship has sent it to + America—rather foolish, now that winter is coming on; but + perhaps he has another, and may be doing a kindness to some + poor American Cousin! <i>St. Angelo</i> might win this race + without an Inverness, though I presume he will appear in + <i>some</i> sort of clothing.</p> + + <p class="author">Yours devotedly, LADY GAY.</p> + + <h3 class="sc">Leicestershire Royal Handicap Selection.</h3> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>On seeing an awkward, three-cornered affair,</p> + + <p class="i2">Which I heard was a racer from + Fingal,</p> + + <p>And hearing him roaring, and whistling an air,</p> + + <p class="i2">I said, he'll be beaten by + <i>Windgall</i>.</p> + </div> + </div> + + <p>P.S.—This is <i>awful</i>; but <i>what</i> a horse to + have to rhyme to!</p> + <hr /> + + <p>"SHUT UP!" AT BARMOUTH!—Mr. GLADSTONE having made up + his mind not to utter another syllable during his holiday, + selects as an appropriate resting-place, a charming sea-side + spot where he stops himself, and where there is a "Bar" before + the "mouth."</p> + <hr /> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page143" + id="page143"></a>[pg 143]</span> + + <div class="figcenter" + style="width:100%;"> + <a href="images/142.png"><img width="100%" + src="images/142.png" + alt="MR. PUNCH'S FISHING PARTY." /></a> + + <h3>MR. PUNCH'S FISHING PARTY.</h3> + </div> + <hr /> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page144" + id="page144"></a>[pg 144]</span> + + <div class="figcenter" + style="width:45%;"> + <a href="images/144.png"><img width="100%" + src="images/144.png" + alt="THE FINDING OF PHARAOH." /></a> + + <h3>THE FINDING OF PHARAOH.</h3><i>Interesting Discovery in + the Dead Season.</i> + </div> + <hr /> + + <h2>VERY ENTERTAINING.</h2> + + <p>Dear MR. PUNCH,—So much is done by the organisers of + the Primrose League in the shape of amusements for the people, + that it seems strange "the other side" should not follow suit. + Without having decided political opinions, I like both the + Government and Her Majesty's Opposition to be on equal terms. + Hence my suggestion. I see that, a few days ago, Mr. GLADSTONE, + in speaking to an audience at Barmouth, made the following + remarks. He said—He belonged to almost every part of the + country. A Scotchman by blood, born in Lancashire, and resident + in London, he had become closely attached to Wales by marriage, + and had now become too old to get rid of that inclination. + Surely these admissions conjure up the possibility of a really + excellent entertainment. To show you what I mean, I jot down, + in dramatic form, my notion of the manner in which the + PREMIER's excellent idea should be worked out:—</p> + + <blockquote> + <p>SCENE—<i>A large hall, with a platform. On the + platform, Committee and Chairman. In front of the Chairman, + large table, with cloth reaching to the floor. + Water-bottle, and tumbler, and lamp.</i></p> + </blockquote> + + <div class="drama"> + <p><i>Chairman.</i> Ladies and Gentlemen, I have great + pleasure in announcing that the Right Hon. W.E. GLADSTONE + (<i>cheers</i>), will give his entertainment entitled "The + Man of Many Characters" almost immediately. The PREMIER's + train is a little late, but—ah, here come his + fore-runners. (<i>Enter two Servants in livery with a large + basket-box, which they place under the table and then + retire.</i>) And now we may expect the PREMIER + immediately.</p> + </div> + + <blockquote> + <p>[<i>Enter</i> Mr. GLADSTONE <i>in evening dress + hurriedly. He is received with thunders of + applause.</i></p> + </blockquote> + + <div class="drama"> + <p><i>Mr. Gladstone.</i> Ladies and Gentlemen! (<i>Great + cheering.</i>) I regret I have kept you waiting for some + quarter of an hour. My excuse must be that I caused the + train to be pulled up, because I noticed at a wayside + station a crowd of villagers who, apparently, were desirous + to hear me speak. You must forgive me, for it was for the + good of the nation. (<i>Cheers.</i>) And now without + preface, I will appear as my friend Farmer HODGE. (<i>Loud + applause, during which the</i> PREMIER <i>dives under the + table and re-appears in character. Continued applause.</i>) + I be mighty glad to see ye. And now, I'll tell ye what I + thinks about the Eight Hours' Bill. (<i>Airs his opinions + in "Zomerzetshire" for some twenty minutes. At the + conclusion of his performance re-appears in evening + dress-coat. Applause.</i>) Thank you very much. But + although Farmer HODGE is a very good fellow, I think SANDIE + MACBAWBEE is even better. With your permission, I will + appear as SANDIE MACBAWBEE. (<i>Disappears under table, and + re-appears in Highland Costume. Cheers.</i>) Dinna fash + yourselves! Ma gracious! It's ma opinion that you'll just + hear a wee bit about Home Rule for Bonnie Scotland. Well, + ye ken—(<i>Airs his opinions upon his chosen subject + in broad Scotch. After a quarter of an hour he re-appears, + and receives the usual applause.</i>) Thank you from the + bottom of my heart. And now as I have shown you Scotland + and England, I think you would be pleased with a glimpse of + London. (<i>Cheers.</i>) You all like London, do you not? + (<i>Applause.</i>) With your kind permission, I will + re-appear as a noted character in the great tragic comedy + of the world's Metropolis. (<i>Dives down and comes up as a + Costermonger. Prolonged applause.</i>) What cheer! + (<i>Laughter.</i>) Well, you blokes what are you grinning + at? I am a chickaleary cove, that's what I am. But I know + what would knock you! You would like to 'ear about 'Ome + Rule. Eh? What cheer! 'Ere goes. (<i>Reveals his Home-Rule + scheme with a Cockney twang and dialect. Then disappears + and re-appears in his customary evening dress.</i>) Thank + you most earnestly. (<i>Loud cheers.</i>) And now I am + afraid I must bid you good-bye. But before leaving, I must + confess to you that I have never had the honour of + appearing before a juster, more intelligent, and more + appreciative audience. [<i>Bows and exit.</i></p> + + <p><i>Voices.</i> Encore! Encore! Encore!</p> + + <p><i>Mr. Gladstone</i> (<i>returning</i>). I am deeply + touched by this sign of public confidence. I would + willingly continue my character illustrations indefinitely, + but, unfortunately, I am required in another part of the + country to repeat the same performances. I have only just + time to catch my special train. Thank you again and + again.</p> + </div> + + <blockquote> + <p>[<i>Exit hurriedly, after kissing his hand. The Footmen + reappear, and take away the large box. Applause, and + Curtain.</i></p> + </blockquote> + + <p>There, my dear <i>Mr. Punch</i>, is the rough idea. I feel + sure it could be carried through with the greatest possible + advantage.</p> + + <p class="author">Believe me, yours most truly,<br /> + AN EARNEST PATRIOT.</p> + <hr /> + + <h2>THE QUEEN OF MAN-O'ER-BOARD.</h2> + + <h4><i>A Novel in Little from a Drama in Full.</i></h4> + + <h3>CHAPTER I.—<i>Lady Violet Malvern at Home.</i></h3> + + <p>It was a gorgeous entertainment, consisting chiefly of + recitations and the "<i>Intermezzo</i>." Lady VIOLET MALVERN + was <i>the</i> life and soul of the party. But there were + lesser lights in a Baron FINOT, an old diplomatist, and a Major + GARRETT, an officer in retreat. Then came ARMAND SEVARRO. He + was an adventurer, and a friend of Baron FINOT, and had a + solitary anecdote.</p> + + <p>"I am going to be married to a young lady of the name of + DOROTHY BLAIR, but cannot reveal the secret, because her mother + is not well enough to hear the news."</p> + + <p>Then ARMAND met Lady VIOLET.</p> + + <p>"I dreamed years ago of going to the City of Manoa to find + its queen. I have found her this evening."</p> + + <p>"And she is—?" queried Lady VIOLET.</p> + + <p>"You!" hissed the Brazilian (he was a Brazilian), and + departed.</p> + + <p>"What folly!" murmured Lady VIOLET, in the moonlight.</p> + + <p>And many agreed with her.</p> + + <h3>CHAPTER II.—<i>The Garden of Dorothy Blair.</i></h3> + + <p>DOROTHY was on the Thames. There came to her ARMAND.</p> + + <p>"Will you never publish our contemplated marriage?" she + asked.</p> + + <p>"How can I, child?" he replied. "How can I reveal the secret + when your mother is not well enough to hear the news?"</p> + + <p>It was his solitary anecdote.</p> + + <p>She sighed, and then came a steam-launch. It contained Lady + VIOLET, the other characters, lunch, and (played off) the + "<i>Intermezzo</i>."</p> + + <p>Then ARMAND preferred to flirt with Lady VIOLET to + DOROTHY.</p> + + <p>"What nonsense!" thought DOROTHY.</p> + + <p>And her thoughts found an echo in the breasts of the + audience.</p> + + <h3>CHAPTER III.—<i>Smoke in the Smoking-room.</i></h3> + + <p>And the Right Hon. RICHARD MALVERN, having had supper, was + jealous of his wife. He told Lady VIOLET that he considered + ARMAND <i>de trop</i>. But he did it so amiably that it touched + Lady VIOLET deeply.</p> + + <p>"I will send ARMAND away," she replied. Then she told the + Brazilian that it was his duty to stay away until his + engagement was announced.</p> + + <p>"But how can it be announced?" he replied, repeating his + solitary anecdote. "I am engaged to a young lady, but I cannot + reveal the secret, because her mother is not well enough to + hear the news."</p> + + <p>Then Lady VIOLET bade him, haughtily, adieu! He departed, + but returned, accompanied by the "<i>Intermezzo</i>." + Then—probably at the suggestion of the music—she + hugged him. Then he left her.</p> + + <p>"This is very wearisome," murmured Lady VIOLET.</p> + + <p>And the audience agreed with her.</p> + + <h3>CHAPTER IV.—<i>A Weir on the Thames.</i></h3> + + <p>It being moonlight, Lady VIOLET walked on a terrace, and + admired a dangerous weir. There was a shriek, and the Brazilian + rushed in accompanied by the "<i>Intermezzo</i>."</p> + + <p>"Fly with me to any part of the Desert that pleases you + most."</p> + + <p>"I would be most delighted," replied Lady VIOLET; "I would + sacrifice myself to any extent, but I would not annoy my + husband."</p> + + <p>"Then let me kiss you with the aid of MASCAGNI," and he + pressed his lips to her brow, to the accompaniment of the + "<i>Intermezzo</i>."</p> + + <p>"I have been to Manoa, and kissed its Queen," said the + Brazilian, as he jumped into the weir, wearily. "It would have + been better had I died before."</p> + + <p>"Yes," thought Lady VIOLET, as she leisurely fainted, "it + would indeed have been better had he died in the First Act than + in the last. Then the piece would have been shorter, more + satisfactory, and less expensive to produce. Nay, more—a + solitary Act might have been one too many!" And yet again the + audience, "all o'er-bored," entirely agreed with her!</p> + <hr /> + + <p><font size="+1">☞</font> NOTICE.—Rejected + Communications or Contributions, whether MS., Printed Matter, + Drawings, or Pictures of any description, will in no case be + returned, not even when accompanied by a Stamped and Addressed + Envelope, Cover, or Wrapper. To this rule there will be no + exception.</p> + <hr class="full" /> + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Punch, Or The London Charivari, Vol. +103, Sep. 24, 1892, by Various + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PUNCH *** + +***** This file should be named 15366-h.htm or 15366-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/1/5/3/6/15366/ + +Produced by Malcolm Farmer, William Flis, and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team. + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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