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diff --git a/15453-h/15453-h.htm b/15453-h/15453-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..2668841 --- /dev/null +++ b/15453-h/15453-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,2669 @@ +<!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, October 15, 1892.</title> + <style type="text/css"> + /*<![CDATA[*/ + + <!-- + body {margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + p {text-align: justify;} + blockquote {text-align: justify;} + h1,h2,h3,h4,h5,h6 {text-align: center;} + pre {font-size: 0.7em;} + .sc {font-variant: small-caps;} + + hr {text-align: center; width: 50%;} + html>body hr {width: 50%;} + hr.full {width: 100%;} + html>body hr.full {margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 0%; width: 100%;} + 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, +October 15, 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, October 15, 1892 + +Author: Various + +Editor: Francis Burnand + + +Release Date: March 24, 2005 [EBook #15453] + +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>October 15, 1892.</h2> + <hr class="full" /> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page169" + id="page169"></a>[pg 169]</span> + + <h2>'ARRY AT 'ARRYGATE.</h2> + + <h4>(<i>Second Letter.</i>)</h4> + + <div class="figright" + style="width:40%;"> + <a href="images/169.png"><img width="100%" + src="images/169.png" + alt="" /></a> + </div> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>DEAR CHARLIE,—The post-mark, no doubt, will + surprise you. I'm still at the "Crown,"</p> + + <p>Though I said in my last—wot wos true—I + was jest on the mizzle for town.</p> + + <p>'Ad a letter from nunky, old man, with another small + cheque. Good old nunk!</p> + + <p>So I'm in for a fortnit' more sulphur and slosh, + afore doing a bunk.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Ah! I've worked it, my pippin, I've worked it; gone + in for hexcursions all round,</p> + + <p>To Knaresborough, Bolton, and Fountains. You know, + dear old pal, I'll be bound,</p> + + <p>As hantiquities isn't my 'obby, and ruins don't + fetch me, not much!</p> + + <p>I can't see their "beauty," no more than the charms + of some dowdy old Dutch.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>A Castle, all chunnicks of stone, or a Habbey, much + out of repair,</p> + + <p>A skelinton Banquetting 'All, and a bit of a + broken-down stair,</p> + + <p>May appear most perticular "precious" to them as the + picteresk cops;</p> + + <p>But give me the sububs and stucco, smart villas, and + spick-and-span shops.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>"Up to date" is our <i>siney quay non</i> in these + days. <i>Fang der sickle</i>, yer know.</p> + + <p>Wich is French for the same, I persoom, and them + phrases is now all the go.</p> + + <p>Find 'em sprinkled all over the papers; in politics, + fashion, or art,</p> + + <p>If you carnt turn 'em slick round yer tongue, you + ain't modern, or knowing, or smart.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Still a houting to Bolton ain't bad when the + <i>charry-bang's</i> well loaded up</p> + + <p>With swell seven-and-sixpence-a-headers. <i>I</i> + felt like a tarrier-pup</p> + + <p>On the scoop arter six weeks of kennel and drench in + the 'ands of a vet;</p> + + <p>I'd got free of the brimstoney flaviour and went it + accordin', you bet!</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>'Ad a day at a village called Birstwith. The most + tooralooralest scene,</p> + + <p>'Oiler down among 'ills, dontcher know, ancient + trees and a jolly big green.</p> + + <p>Reglar old Rip-van-Winkleish spot, sech as CALDECOTT + ought to ha' sketched.</p> + + <p>Though I ain't noways nuts on the pastoral, even + Yours Truly wos fetched.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Pooty sight and no error, old pal! 'Twos a grand + "Aughticultural Show,"</p> + + <p>So the "Progrum of Sports" told the public. Fruit, + flowers, and live poultry, yer know.</p> + + <p>Big markee and a range of old 'en-coops, sports, + niggers, a smart local band,</p> + + <p>Cottage gardemn', cheese, roosters, and races! Rum + mix, but I gave it a 'and.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>I do like to hencourage the joskins. One thing + though, wos fiddle-de-dee,</p> + + <p>They 'ad a "Refreshment Tent," CHARLIE. 'Oh my! + Ginger-ale and weak tea!</p> + + <p>Nothink stronger, old pal, s'elp me bob! Fancy + <i>me</i> flopping down on a form</p> + + <p>A-munching plum-putty, and lapping Bohea as wos not + even warm!</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>This 'ere 'Arrygate's short of amusements. There's + niggers and bands on the "Stray"</p> + + <p>(Big lumpy old field in a 'ole, wich if properly + managed might pay.)</p> + + <p>Mysterious Minstrels with masks on, a bleating + contralto in black,</p> + + <p>With a orful tremoler, my pippin!—yus, these + are the pick of the pack.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Bit sick of "<i>Ta-ra-ra</i>" and "<i>Knocked + 'em</i>;" "<i>Carissimar</i>" gives me the 'ump,</p> + + <p>For I 'ear it some six times per morning; and then + there's a footy old pump</p> + + <p>Blows staggery toons on a post-'orn for full arf + a-hour each day,</p> + + <p>To muster the mugs for a coach-drive. My heye and a + bandbox, it's gay!</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>At the "Crown" we git up little barnies, to eke out + the 'Arrygate lot,</p> + + <p>For even the Spa's a bit samesome for six times a + week when it's 'ot;</p> + + <p>Though they do go it pooty permiskus with + pickter-shows, concerts, and such;</p> + + <p>Yus, I must say they ladles it out fair and free, + for a sixpenny touch.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>But even yer Fancy Dress Balls, and yer lectures by + ANNIE BESANT,</p> + + <p>All about Hastral Bodies and Hether, seems not + always <i>quite</i> wot yer want</p> + + <p>To wile away time arter dinner. So thanks to that + gent—six-foot-four!—</p> + + <p>Who fair cuts the record as Droring-Room + M.C.—of course <i>hammytoor</i>.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Then we've conjurors, worblers, phrenologists! One + 'ad a go at <i>my</i> chump.</p> + + <p>'E touzled my 'air up tremenjus, and said I'd no + hend of a bump</p> + + <p>Of somethink he called "Happrybativeness." Feller + meant well, I suppose,</p> + + <p>But I didn't quite relish his smile, nor his rummy + remarks on my nose.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>When a tall gurl as pooty as paint, and with cheeks + like a blush—rose in bloom,</p> + + <p>'As 'er lamps all a-larf on yer face, and a giggle + goes round the whole room,</p> + + <p>'Tisn't nice to sit square on a chair, with a feller + a-sharpening 'is wit</p> + + <p>On your nob, and a rumpling your 'air till it's like + a birch-broom in a fit!</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>One caper we 'ad, on the lawn, wos a spree and no + error, old man.</p> + + <p>They call it a "Soap-Bubble Tournyment." Soapsuds, a + pipe, and a fan,</p> + + <p>Four six—foot posts stuck in the ground with a + tape run around—them's the "props,"</p> + + <p>And lawn-tennis ain't in it for larks. Oh, the + ladies did larf, though tip-tops!</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Bit sniffy fust off. "Oh!" sez they, "wot a most + <i>hintellectual</i> game!"</p> + + <p>But I noticed that them as sneered most wos most + anxious to win, all the same,</p> + + <p>The gent he stands slap in the middle, and tries to + blow bubbles like fun,</p> + + <p>Wich his pardner fans over the tape; don't it jest + keep the girls on the run!</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Every bubble as crosses the tape afore busting + counts one to that pair,</p> + + <p>And the pair as counts most wins the prize. They are + timed by a hegg-boiler. There!</p> + + <p>It <i>wos</i> all a pantermime, CHARLIE, to see 'ow + them gurls scooted round,</p> + + <p>Jest like Japanese jugglers, a-fanning the bubbles, + as <i>would</i> 'ug the ground.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Some gents wos fair frosts at the bizness; one + good-'earted trim little toff</p> + + <p>Would blow with the bowl wrong end uppards. His + pardner went pink and flounced off.</p> + + <p>He gurgled away like a babe with a pap-bottle, + guggle—gug—gug!</p> + + <p>And I 'eard 'er a-giving 'im beans as 'e mizzled, + much down in the mug.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Owsomever, it ain't for amusements as 'Arrygate lays + itself hout;</p> + + <p>So, dear boy, it's for doses and douches; and there + it scores freely, no doubt,</p> + + <p>Wy, there's thirty-two Springs in the Bog + Field—a place like a graveyard gone + wrong—</p> + + <p>Besides Starbeck, the Tewit, and others, all narsty, + and most on 'em strong.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Since Sir SLINGSBY discovered the first one, now + close on three cent'ries ago,</p> + + <p>Wot a lush of mixed mineral muck these 'ere + 'Arrygate Springs 'ave let flow!</p> + + <p>Well, ere's bully for Brimstone, my bloater, and + 'ooray for 'Arrygate air!</p> + + <p>Wich 'as done me most good I don't know, and I'm + scorched if I very much care!</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>I know 'Arrygate girls cop the biscuit for beauty. + They've cheeks like the rose,</p> + + <p>Their skin is jest strorberries and cream; it's the + sulphur, dear boy, I suppose.</p> + + <p>As for me, I look yaller as taller alongside 'em + CHARLIE, wus luck!</p> + + <p>I 'eard one call me saffron-faced sparrer, and jest + as I thought 'er fair struck.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>I'd nail 'em, in time, I've no doubt, when I once + got the 'ang of their style.</p> + + <p>There's a gal at the Montpellier Baths. Scissoree! + 'ow I've tried for a smile,</p> + + <p>When she tips me my tannersworth! Shucks! she's as + orty and stiff as yer please.</p> + + <p>Primrose Dames isn't in it for snubs with these + arrygant 'Arrygatese!</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>But I reckon my "Douche" is now due. Doctor BLACK's + that pertikler, old man.</p> + + <p>These 'Arrygate doctors 'ave progrums—you've + got to pan out to their plan.</p> + + <p>Up early, two swigs afore breakfust, and tubs when + they tell yer's the rule.</p> + + <p>Well, the feller as flies to a Sawbones, and + <i>don't</i> toe the line is a fool.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Reglar Doctor-Shop, 'Arrygate is; see their photos + all over the town.</p> + + <p>Mine is doing me dollups of good; I'm quite peckish, + and jest a bit brown.</p> + + <p>I'm making the most of my time, and a-laying in all + I can carry.</p> + + <p>So 'ere ends this budget of brimstone and baths from + your sulphur-soaked</p> + </div> + </div> + + <p class="author">'ARRY.</p> + <hr /> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page170" + id="page170"></a>[pg 170]</span> + + <div class="figcenter" + style="width:100%;"> + <h2>A FROG HE WOULD A-ROWING GO!</h2> + + <h3 class="sc">A Sad Song of the International Boat + Race.</h3> + + <h4>(<i>With Mr. Punch's cordial Compliments to the + victorious French Eight</i>.) AIR—"<i>A Frog he would + a-Wooing + go</i>."</h4><a href="images/170.png"><img width="100%" + src="images/170.png" + alt="A FROG HE WOULD A-ROWING GO!" /></a> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>A FROGGIE would a-rowing go,</p> + + <p class="i10">Heigho for Rowing!</p> + + <p>To see if Big BULLIE could lick him or no;</p> + + <p class="i2">With his boating form that's all + gammon and spinach.</p> + + <p class="i10">Heigho for British Rowing!</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>So off he set with his boating-cap,</p> + + <p class="i10">Heigho for Rowing!</p> + + <p>And swore at Big BULL he would just have a + slap!</p> + + <p class="i2">Which BULL declared was all gammon + and spinach!</p> + + <p class="i10">Heigho for British Rowing!</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>"Pray, Mr. BULL, will you race with me?"</p> + + <p class="i10">Heigho for Rowing!</p> + + <p>Says BULL, "If you like, but 'tis + fiddle-de-dee!</p> + + <p class="i2">For FROG against BULL is all gammon + and spinach."</p> + + <p class="i10">Heigho for British Rowing!</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>When they came to Andresy upon the Seine,</p> + + <p class="i10">Heigho for Rowing!</p> + + <p>Big BULL pulled his hardest, but pulled in + vain,</p> + + <p class="i2">For he found his boasts were all + gammon and spinach.</p> + + <p class="i10">Heigho for British Rowing!</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>For in spite of the brag, and the bounce, and + the chaff,</p> + + <p class="i10">Heigho for Rowing!</p> + + <p>The FROG beat the BULL by a length and a + half,</p> + + <p class="i2">With your MOSSOP and JAMES, licked by + BOUDIN and CUZIN,</p> + + <p class="i10">Heigho, says R.C. LEHMANN!</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>"Pray, Mr. BULL, do you relish the spin?"</p> + + <p class="i10">Heigho for Rowing!</p> + + <p>(Said FROGGIE.) "And were you cocksure you would + win,</p> + + <p class="i2">With your forty-one strokes all sheer + gammon and spinach?"</p> + + <p class="i10">Heigho for British + Rowing!</p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page171" + id="page171"></a>[pg 171]</span> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>"Humph! Regular take-down!" said Big Mr. + BULL—</p> + + <p class="i10">Heigho for Rowing!</p> + + <p>"But, FROGGIE or not, by the lord you can + <i>pull</i>,</p> + + <p class="i2">With your much-decried + 'hang,'—'twas all gammon and spinach!</p> + + <p class="i10">Heigho for British Rowing!"</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>"Ha! Ha!" cried the FROG, "the old fable, + thought true"—</p> + + <p class="i10">Heigho for Rowing!</p> + + <p>"Is out of date now. I'm as big, BULL, as + <i>you</i>,</p> + + <p class="i2">As an oarsman, which is <i>not</i> + all gammon and spinach!"</p> + + <p class="i10">Heigho for British Rowing.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>So that in the end (for the present), you + see,</p> + + <p class="i10">Heigho for Rowing!</p> + + <p>Of the race between Big BULL and Little + FROGGIE.</p> + + <p class="i2">BULL's fame, in a boat, seems all + gammon and spinach.</p> + + <p class="i10">Heigho for British Rowing!</p> + </div> + </div> + </div> + <hr /> + + <div class="figcenter" + style="width:100%;"> + <a href="images/171.png"><img width="100%" + src="images/171.png" + alt="LOOKING AHEAD." /></a> + + <h3>LOOKING AHEAD.</h3> + + <p><i>Miss Golightly</i> (<i>the Friend of the Family, and + to whom Sir Percy (the elder) has proposed</i>). "OF COURSE + I'M AWFULLY OBLIGED, SIR PERCY—BUT, SAY NOW, DON'T + YOU THINK THERE WOULD BE SOME DANGER OF MY FALLING IN LOVE + WITH YOUR ELDEST SON?"</p> + </div> + <hr /> + + <p>MR. CHAUNCEY DEPEW, the well-known American lawyer, wonders + why on earth the British Government has not long ago given Home + Rule to Ireland. He encourages Mr. G.'s Ministry to do their + best in this direction, and chaunce-y it. We're always + delighted to welcome Mr. CHAUNCEY DEPEW in England, so let him + come over with a Depewtation to Mr. G. on the subject.</p> + <hr /> + + <p>EQUESTRIAN FRUIT.—At the Horticultural Show the + Baroness BURDETT-COUTTS exhibited a "Cob of ADAM's Early + Maize." No particulars are given. Was it 14'1 and a + weight-carrier? Being ADAM's, it must be about the oldest in + the world. "Maize" may be a misprint for "Mews." Next time the + Baroness must send a pear.</p> + <hr /> + + <p>PROBABLE DEDUCTION.—A pertinacious Salvation Army + Captain was worrying a Scotch farmer, whom he had met in the + train, with perpetual inquiries as to whether "he had been born + again of Water and the Spirit?" At last, McSANDY replied, + "Aweel, I dinna reetly ken how that may be, but my good old + feyther and mither took their toddy releegiously every nicht, + the noo."</p> + <hr /> + + <h3>THE AUSTRO-GERMAN OFFICER'S VADE-MECUM.</h3> + + <p><i>Q.</i> You have heard of the Ride from Berlin to Vienna, + and <i>vice versā</i>?</p> + + <p><i>A.</i> Yes; and of the mishaps that befell many of the + competitors.</p> + + <p><i>Q.</i> You mean their horses?</p> + + <p><i>A.</i> What applies to the one applies to the other.</p> + + <p><i>Q.</i> Some of the poor steeds died on the journey?</p> + + <p><i>A.</i> I daresay—of course, it was hard work.</p> + + <p><i>Q.</i> And you have read that, even when the poor horses + were fainting and refusing food, the riders still went on?</p> + + <p><i>A.</i> Of course. The riders had magnificent pluck and + nerve.</p> + + <p><i>Q.</i> What, to observe the anguish of their chargers + without emotion?</p> + + <p><i>A.</i> No! The idea! I mean they had pluck and nerve in + spite of all discouragement to push on to the winning-post.</p> + + <p><i>Q.</i> And what do you think this breaking down of the + horses proved?</p> + + <p><i>A.</i> That, after all, the creatures were + brutes—only brutes!</p> + + <p><i>Q.</i> Does not the suffering of these brutes + suggest—</p> + + <p><i>A.</i> That the riders were brutes too?—Ah!</p> + + <blockquote> + <p>[<i>No further question put, the Answerer having + mastered the subject.</i></p> + </blockquote> + <hr /> + + <p>IN EXCELSIS.—No better example of the methods employed + by Vivisectionists could be given than was presented at the + Church Congress last week, where in debate on this subject they + were all engaged in cutting up one another. The Bishop of + EDINBURGH, denouncing the morality of the Bishop of MANCHESTER + and of Bishop BARRY, was a rare sight. His Lordship said that + the morality of these two Bishops was "up in a balloon." Well, + surely this is morality of the most elevated description. These + Bishops are not "<i>in partibus</i>," but <i>in + nubibus</i>.</p> + <hr /> + + <p>IN WATER COLOURS.—The East London Waterworks Company + had a very successful meeting the other day. <i>Inter alia</i> + the Chairman said, that "the Waltham Well is a complete + success." <i>Ergo</i> let Well alone. That from this source + they still supplied "36 gallons per head." The heads must be + uncommonly hard to stand all this water on the brain. A + dividend of eight per cent. is, after all, a very pleasant + draught.</p> + <hr /> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page172" + id="page172"></a>[pg 172]</span> + + <h2>"GREEN THE GUIDE."</h2> + + <h4>(<i>A Sketch on a "Royal Blue" Car at Jersey.</i>)</h4> + + <blockquote> + <p><i>On the Car is, among others, an</i> Elderly + Gentleman, <i>in a tall hat, with a quantity of wraps; + a</i> Stout Shopkeeper, <i>with a stouter Wife; a</i> + Serious Commercial Traveller, <i>and a couple of young</i> + "Shop-ladies"; a Morose Young Man, <i>who has "got out of + bed the wrong side" that morning, and another, who has + begun his potations rather early, and is in the muzzily + talkative mood. The Car is one of a long string of similar + vehicles, and is proceeding at a rapid rate along one of + the winding roads</i>.</p> + </blockquote> + + <div class="drama"> + <p><i>The Muzzy Man</i>. Frivolous, am I? Well, we + <i>came</i> 'ere to be frivolous—to a certain extent. + Am I out of the way in anything I've said? Because I woke + this morning with a dry month, and I don't mind saying I've + had a little drop o' brandy since.</p> + + <p><i>His Neighbour</i>. You might let people find out that + for themselves, <i>I</i> should think!</p> + + <p><i>The Muzzy M.</i> No—I like to be honest and + straightforward, I do. I don't want to be out of the + <i>way</i>, you understand.</p> + + <p><i>The Shopkeeper's Wife</i> (<i>to her Neighbour</i>). + This is a pretty part of the road we're on now—but, + lor! there's nothing 'ere to come up to the Isle of Man. + Douglas, now—that <i>is</i> a nice place, with all + them Music Halls! And the scenery—why, I'm sure I + felt sometimes as if I <i>must</i> stop, just to + <i>look</i> at it!</p> + + <p><i>The Muzzy Man</i>. I consider scenery we're coming to + most beautiful I've seen for—for miles around. [<i>He + goes to sleep.</i></p> + + <div class="figright" + style="width:35%;"> + <a href="images/172.png"><img width="100%" + src="images/172.png" + alt="'An elderly Gentleman, in a tall hat, with a quantity of wraps.'" /> + </a>"An elderly Gentleman, in a tall hat, with a + quantity of wraps." + </div> + + <p><i>The Shopkeeper</i> (<i>to the</i> Elderly G., <i>who + is shifting and turning about uneasily</i>). Lost anything, + Sir?</p> + + <p><i>The E.G.</i> No—thank you, no. I was looking to + see whether GREEN the Guide was on the car. (<i>Shouts of + laughter are heard from the car behind</i>.) Ah, + <i>that's</i> GREEN the Guide! I wish he'd come on our + oar—very amusing fellow, Sir—capital + company!</p> + + <p><i>The Morose M.</i> (<i>to the Young Lady 'on his + Left</i>) Who's GREEN the Guide?</p> + + <p><i>The Y.L.</i> Oh, don't you know? He comes with the + cars and makes jokes and all that. I hope he'll come to + us.</p> + + <p><i>The Mor. M.</i> <i>I</i> don't. I can do that sort of + thing for myself if I want to, I hope. [<i>With a + scowl.</i></p> + + <p><i>The Y.L.</i> Well, there's no harm in + <i>hoping</i>!</p> + + <p><i>The Serious Comm. T.</i> (<i>to his + neighbour—one of the Shop-ladies</i>). So you come + from Birmingham? Dear me, now. I used to be there very + often on business at one time. Do you know the Rev. Mr. + PODGER there? A good old gentleman, he is. I used to attend + his Chapel regular—most improving discourses he used + to give us. I am fond of a good Sermon, aren't you? + &c.</p> + </div> + + <blockquote> + <p>[<i>He imagines—not altogether + correctly—that he is producing an agreeable + impression.</i></p> + </blockquote> + + <div class="drama"> + <p><i>A Young Man in a Frock-coat, Canvas-shoes, and + Cloth-cap.</i> Scarborough? Yes, I've <i>been</i> + there—but I don't care about it much. You have to + <i>dress</i> such a lot there, y' know, and I like to come + out just as I am!</p> + </div> + + <blockquote> + <p>[<i>The conversation, notwithstanding its brilliancy, is + beginning to flag—when the car is boarded by a + stalwart good-looking man, carrying a banjo, and wearing a + leather shoulder-belt with</i> "GREEN the Guide" <i>in + brass letters upon it; the</i> Elderly Gentleman, <i>and + most of the</i> Ladies <i>welcome him with effusion, while + the</i> Younger Men <i>appear to resent his + appearance.</i></p> + </blockquote> + + <div class="drama"> + <p><i>The Mor. M.</i> (<i>sotto voce</i>). If he's going to + play that old instrument of torture, I shall <i>howl</i>, + that's all!</p> + + <p><i>Green the Guide</i> (<i>in a deep baritone + voice</i>). Well, Ladies and Gentlemen, I congratulate you + upon having a fine day for our excursion. My glass went up + three feet this morning.</p> + + <p><i>The Morose Man</i> (<i>aggressively</i>). Was there + whiskey inside it?</p> + + <p><i>Green the Guide</i>. No, Sir, it would have gone down + suddenly if there had been. (<i>The</i> Elderly G. <i>asks + for a song</i>.) I shall be delighted to entertain you to + the best of my ability. What would you like to have?</p> + + <p><i>The Mor. M.</i> None of your songs—give us an + imitation—of a deaf and dumb man.</p> + + <p><i>Green the G.</i> (<i>with perfect good-humour</i>). I + shall be happy to do the deaf man, Sir,—if you'll + help me by doing the dumb. (<i>The</i> Mor. M. <i>begins to + feel that he had better leave</i> GREEN the Guide + <i>alone.</i>) Well, Ladies and Gentlemen, I'll sing you a + good old-fashioned hunting-song, and I'll ask you to join + me in the Chorus.</p> + </div> + + <blockquote> + <p>[<i>He sings "We'll all go out hunting to-day!"</i></p> + </blockquote> + + <div class="drama"> + <p><i>The Mor. M.</i> (<i>after the First Verse</i>). The + beggar don't sing so badly. I will say <i>that</i> for him! + (<i>After the Third</i>.) Capital voice he has! Rattling + good Chorus, too! "Join the glad throng that goes laughing + along, and we'll all go a-hunting to-day!" (<i>At the + end.</i>) Bravo! encore! encore!</p> + </div> + + <blockquote> + <p>[<i>His good-humour is suddenly and miraculously + restored.</i></p> + </blockquote> + + <div class="drama"> + <p><i>Green the G.</i> (<i>in a tone of instruction</i>). + You will notice that the thistle is very abundant just + here, Ladies and Gentlemen. The reason of <i>that</i>, is + that some years ago a vessel was wrecked on this part of + the coast which was sailing from Scotland with a cargo of + thistledown. (<i>Outcry of incredulity</i>.) If you don't + believe me, ask the Coachman.</p> + + <p><i>The Coachman</i> (<i>stolidly</i>). It's a fact, + Gentlemen, I assure you.</p> + + <p><i>G. the G.</i> The soil of Jersey is remarkably + productive; if you plant a sixpence, it will come up a + shilling in no time. The cabbages on this island grow to an + extraordinary height, frequently attaining twenty + feet—(<i>outcry</i>)—yes, if you measure up one + side, and down the other. (<i>They pass a couple of sheep + on a slope</i>.) The finest flock of sheep in the island. + The dark one is not black, only a little sunburnt. The + house you see on that hill over there was formerly slept in + by CHARLES THE SECOND. He left a pair of slippers behind + him—which have since grown into top-boots. There you + see the only windmill in this part of the + island—there <i>used</i> to be three, but it was + found there was not enough wind for them all. From here you + have a clear view of the coast of France; and, when the + wind is blowing in this direction, you have an excellent + opportunity of acquiring the French accent in all its + purity. (<i>This string of somewhat hoary chestnuts meets + with a success beyond their intrinsic merits, the</i> + Morose Man <i>being as much entertained as anybody</i>.) On + your right is an inland lake of fresh water—</p> + + <p><i>The Muzzy Man</i> (<i>waking up with sudden + interest</i>). Can you drink it with perfect impunity?</p> + + <p><i>G. the G.</i> Depends how far you are accustomed to + it as a beverage, Sir. (<i>The car stops at an hotel</i>.) + We stop here two hours, Ladies and Gentlemen, to enable you + to lunch, and examine the caves afterwards. You can leave + anything you like on the cars except five-pound + notes—and they <i>might</i> get blown away!</p> + </div> + + <h3 class="sc">On the Way Home.</h3> + + <div class="drama"> + <p><i>The Shopkeeper's Wife</i> (<i>to her Husband</i>). + Ah, TOM, it's just as well you stayed behind—you'd + never have got through those caves! You wouldn't believe I + could ha' done it unless you'd seen me—clambering + down iron ladders, and jumping on to rocks, and squeezing + through tunnels, and then up a cliff like the side of a + house. I do <i>wish</i> you could ha' seen me, TOM!</p> + + <p><i>Tom</i> (<i>philosophically</i>). Ah, well, I was + very comfortable where I was, settin' in the hotel room + there, smoking my pipe. GREEN the Guide gave us, "<i>Rocked + in the Cradle of the Deep</i>," in first-rate + style—he is a <i>singer</i>, and no mistake!</p> + + <p><i>His Wife</i>. Lor, I wish I'd known he was going to + sing—I'd ha' stayed too! But here he is, waiting by + the road for us—I do hope he's going to sing + again!</p> + + <p><i>Green the G.</i> (<i>mounting the car</i>). I fear I + am an unwelcome visitor.</p> + + <p><i>The Eld. G.</i> (<i>graciously</i>). It would be the + first time in your life then, GREEN!</p> + + <p><i>G. the G.</i> Well, the fact is, I come to levy a + little contribution on behalf of myself and the Coachman. + Times are hard, Gentlemen, and both of us have large + families to support. If you don't believe me, ask the + Coachman. (<i>The</i> Elderly G. <i>explains that his + wrappings prevent him from getting at his purse just then, + while the others contribute with more or less readiness and + liberality</i>.) Many thanks. Ladies and Gentlemen, on + behalf of myself and the Coachman, and to express my sense + of your generosity, I will sing you the great + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page173" + id="page173"></a>[pg 173]</span> Jersey National Song, + composed by myself, before leaving. (<i>He sings a ditty + with the following spirited Chorus</i>):—</p> + </div> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>There the streets are paved with granite. So neat + and clean</p> + + <p>And lots of pretty, witty girls, are always to be + seen!</p> + + <p>With the brave old Mi-litia, Our foes to defy!</p> + + <p>And there they grow the Cabba-ges—Ten feet + high!</p> + + <p>(<i>All together, Gentlemen, please</i>!) Yes, there + they grow the Cabbages, there they grow the Cabbages, + there they grow the Cabbages—Ten feet high!</p> + </div> + </div> + + <div class="drama"> + <p>Thank you, Gentlemen, I've sung that song a number of + times, and I never remember hearing the chorus better sung. + If you don't believe me, ask the Coachman.</p> + + <p><i>Coachman.</i> <i>I've</i> never 'eard it better sung, + Ladies and Gentlemen, I assure you.</p> + </div> + + <blockquote> + <p>[GREEN the Guide <i>descends in a blaze of popularity, + and the "Royal Blue" rolls on in excellent spirits.</i></p> + </blockquote> + <hr /> + + <h2>POLITICAL TRAINING.</h2> + + <p><i>Monday</i>.—Read Mr. CHAMBERLAIN's remarks on + abstinence from bodily exercise. Sold my bicycle, and gave away + all my rackets, bats, &c. Resolved to follow the latest + system. Shall doubtless, by these means, reach Mr. C.'s high + position as a statesman and orator. Went out in a Bath-chair. + Five minutes after starting, man said he was not accustomed to + drag so heavy an invalid, and must rest a little. Tried a + speech—my maiden one—on the Disadvantages of Bodily + Exercise. He listened respectfully, and, when at last I had + finished, said he quite agreed with me, and that the fare was + seven shillings.</p> + + <p><i>Tuesday</i>.—Have decided that exercise in a + Bath-chair is quite superfluous. Resolved to take exercise, for + the future, in a hammock, just outside the garden-door. Must + practise speech-making to the gardener. Good + idea—Orchids. Asked him what he thought about the new + Orchid. Miserable fool answered, "Awkud, zur? Dunno waht thaht + be." I said that was "awkud," and had to laugh at the highly + original side-splitter myself, as he never saw it.</p> + + <p><i>Wednesday</i>.—Must really give up this long walk + to the garden-door. Shall never become a great statesman unless + I do. Resolved to take exercise in arm-chair in library. The + children's governess came in to fetch a book. Addressed her at + some length on Free Education. Afterwards, thought this subject + was somewhat ill-chosen, as her salary is so small.</p> + + <p><i>Thursday</i>.—Really cannot stand this walking up + and down stairs. Shall remain for the future in my bed-room and + take exercise on sofa by fireside, as I feel chilly. Page came + in with coals. Reminded me of Policy of Scuttle. Spoke of this + at some length, and woke him up with difficulty when I had + finished. Felt rather unwell.</p> + + <p><i>Friday</i>.—Dressing and undressing is certainly + needless fatigue, and evidently causes this headache and + general seediness. Shall take exercise in bed. Felt worse. + Female relatives anxious, and insist on medical attendance. + Assured them I was following the best system, and answered + their persistent demands by a short address on Home Rule.</p> + + <p><i>Saturday</i>.—Felt so bad at five this morning, + that Doctor was fetched. Tried feebly to address him on the + Eight Hours' Question, when he said he never had any time to + think how long he worked. Explained my new system to him. He + said I should myself want a new system to stand such a course + of treatment. Then he pulled me out of bed, and insisted on my + walking ten miles as soon as I was dressed. Felt much better. + Shall abandon politics and become a farmer, having just heard + of an infallible system for growing wheat profitably.</p> + <hr /> + + <p>THE "RESTORATION" PERIOD.—Will the Chairmen of the + L.C. & D. and the S.E. Lines unite their forces? After the + meeting on this subject last week, Sir EDWARD will have lots of + reason to listen to. But apart from every consideration of + <i>mal de mer</i>, and "From Calais to Dover," as the poet + sings "'Tis soonest over," there is not anywhere a better, and + we, who have suffered as greatly as the much-enduring Ulysses, + venture to assert not anywhere as good a luncheon as at the + "Restauration" (well it deserves the title!) of the Calais + Station. Every patriotic travelling Englishman must be + delighted to think that some few centuries ago we gave up + Calais. Had it been nowadays in English hands, why it might + even now be possessed of a "Refreshment Room" no better + than—any on our side of the Channel, for there is no + necessity to particularise. From Dover to Calais is the + shortest and best restorative'd route for the traveller, + whether ill or well, at sea.</p> + <hr /> + + <p>MOTTOES for the new Lord MAYOR. "<i>Nil obstet</i>," "<i>Nil + fortius</i>," and, from HORACE, "<i>Nil amplius oro</i>." This, + in answer to thousands of correspondents, is our last word on + the subject; so after this (except on the 9th of November), we + say—<i>nil</i>.</p> + <hr /> + + <h2>SUCH A "LIGHT OPERA!"</h2> + + <div class="figleft" + style="width:31%;"> + <a href="images/173-1.png"><img width="100%" + src="images/173-1.png" + alt="'Pity a Poo' Bar-itone!'" /></a>"Pity a Poo' + Bar-itone!" + </div> + + <div class="figright" + style="width:31%;"> + <a href="images/173-2.png"><img width="100%" + src="images/173-2.png" + alt="" /></a> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>"Christmas is comin'!"</p> + + <p>The McClown of McClown dancing.</p> + + <p>The Reel Hit of the Opera.</p> + </div> + </div> + </div> + + <p>Had Sir ARTHUR written the music for <i>The Mountebanks</i>, + and Sir BRIAN DE BOIS GILBERT the book of <i>Haddon Hall</i>, + both might have been big successes So, however, it was not to + be, and Sir ARTHUR chose this book by Mr. GRUNDY, which labours + under the disadvantages of being original, and of not owing + almost everything to a French source. It isn't every day of the + week that Mr. GRUNDY tumbles upon <i>A Pair of Spectacles</i> + in a volume of French plays. The period to which the very + slight and uninteresting story of <i>Haddon Hall</i> belongs is + just before the Restoration, but the dialogue of "the book" is + spiced with modern slang, both "up to date" (the date being + this present year of Grace, not sixteen hundred and sixty) and + out of date. The "out-of-date" slang, which is, "<i>I've got + 'em on"</i>—alluding to the Scotchman's + trousers—has by far the best of it, as it comes at the + end of the piece, and enjoys the honour of having been set to + music by the variously-gifted Composer: so that "<i>I've got + 'em on</i>," with its enthusiastically treble-encored whiskey + fling, capitally danced by Miss NITA COLE as <i>Nance</i>, with + Mr. DENNY as <i>The McCrankie</i>, may be considered as the + real hit of the evening, having in itself about as much to do + with whatever there is of the plot as would have the entrance + of Mr. JOEY GRIMALDI, in full Clown's costume, with "Here we + are again!" Of the music, as there was very little to catch and + take away, one had to leave it. Of course this seriously comic + or comically serious Opera is drawing—["<i>Music</i>," + observes Mr. WAGG, parenthetically, "cannot be + <i>drawing</i>"]—and will continue to do so for some + little time, long enough at all events to reimburse Mr. D'OYLY + CARTE for his more than usually lavish outlay on the + <i>mise-en-scčne.</i></p> + + <p>In the Second Act, the mechanical change from the exterior + of Haddon Hall to the interior, must be reckoned as among the + most effective transformations ever seen on any stage. It would + be still more so if the time occupied in making it were reduced + one-half, and the storm in the orchestra, and the lightning + seen through black gauze on stage were omitted. The lightning + frightens nobody, only amuses a few, and in itself is no very + great attraction. Even if these flashes were a very striking + performance; no danger to the audience need be apprehended from + it, seeing that Mr. CELLIER is in front as "Conductor." Perhaps + Mr. D'OYLY CARTE, noticing that Mr. GRUNDY calls his piece "a + light Opera," thought that, as it wasn't quite up to this + description, it would be as well if the required "light'ning" + were brought in somewhere, and so he introduced it here. If + this be so, it is about the only flash of genius in the + performance.</p> + <hr /> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page174" + id="page174"></a>[pg 174]</span> + + <div class="figcenter" + style="width:100%;"> + <a href="images/174.png"><img width="100%" + src="images/174.png" + alt="POST-PRANDIAL PESSIMISTS." /></a> + + <h3>POST-PRANDIAL PESSIMISTS.</h3>SCENE—<i>The + Smoking-room at the Decadents.</i> + + <p><i>First Decadent</i> (<i>M.A. Oxon.</i>). "AFTER ALL, + SMYTHE, WHAT WOULD LIFE BE WITHOUT COFFEE?"</p> + + <p><i>Second Decadent</i> (<i>B.A. Camb.</i>). "TRUE, + JEOHNES, TRUE! AND YET, AFTER ALL, WHAT IS LIFE <i>WITH</i> + COFFEE?"</p> + </div> + <hr /> + + <h3>"CROSSING THE BAR."</h3> + + <h4>IN MEMORIAM.</h4> + + <h2>Alfred Lord Tennyson.</h2> + + <h4 class="sc">Born, August 5, 1809. Died, October 6, + 1892.</h4> + + <center> + "TALIESSEN is our fullest throat of song."—<i>The + Holy Grail</i>. + </center> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Our fullest throat of song is silent, hushed</p> + + <p class="i2">In Autumn, when the songless woods are + still,</p> + + <p>And with October's boding hectic flushed</p> + + <p class="i2">Slowly the year disrobes. A passionate + thrill</p> + + <p>Of strange proud sorrow pulses through the land,</p> + + <p class="i2">His land, his England, which he loved so + well:</p> + + <p>And brows bend low, as slow from strand to + strand</p> + + <p class="i6">The Poet's passing bell</p> + + <p>Sends forth its solemn note, and every heart</p> + + <p>Chills, and sad tears to many an eyelid start.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Sad tears in sooth! And yet not wholly so.</p> + + <p class="i2">Exquisite echoes of his own swan-song</p> + + <p>Forbid mere murmuring mournfulness; the glow</p> + + <p class="i2">Of its great hope illumes us. Sleep, thou + strong</p> + + <p>Full tide, as over the unmeaning bar</p> + + <p class="i2">Fares this unfaltering darer of the + deep,</p> + + <p>Beaconed by a Great Light, the pilot-star</p> + + <p class="i6">Of valiant souls, who keep</p> + + <p>Through the long strife of thought-life free from + scathe</p> + + <p>The luminous guidance of the larger faith.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>No sadness of farewell? Great Singer, crowned</p> + + <p class="i2">With lustrous laurel, facing that far + light,</p> + + <p>In whose white radiance dark seems whelmed and + drowned,</p> + + <p class="i2">And death a passing shade, of meaning + slight;</p> + + <p>Sunset, and evening star, and that clear call,</p> + + <p class="i2">The twilight shadow, and the evening + bell,</p> + + <p>Bring naught of gloom for thee. Whate'er befall</p> + + <p class="i6">Thou must indeed fare well.</p> + + <p>But we—we have but memories now, and love</p> + + <p>The plaint of fond regret will scarce reprove.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Great singer, he, and great among the great,</p> + + <p class="i2">Or greatness hath no sure abiding + test.</p> + + <p>The poet's splendid pomp, the shining state</p> + + <p class="i2">Of royal singing robes, were his, + confest,</p> + + <p>By slowly growing certitude of fame,</p> + + <p class="i2">Since first, a youth, he found + fresh-opening portals</p> + + <p>To Beauty's Pleasure-House. Ranked with acclaim</p> + + <p class="i6">Amidst the true Immortals,</p> + + <p>The amaranth fields with native ease he trod,</p> + + <p>Authentic son of the lyre-bearing god.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Fresh portals, untrod pleasaunces, new ways</p> + + <p class="i2">In Art's great Palace, shrined in + Nature's heart,</p> + + <p>Sought the young singer, and his limpid lays,</p> + + <p class="i2">O'er sweet, perchance, yet made the quick + blood start</p> + + <p>To many a cheek mere glittering; rhymes left + cold.</p> + + <p class="i2">But through the gates of Ivory or of + Horn</p> + + <p>His vivid vision flocked, and who so bold</p> + + <p class="i6">As to repulse with scorn</p> + + <p>The shining troop because of shadowy birth.</p> + + <p>Of bodiless passion, or light tinkling mirth?</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>But the true god-gift grows. Sweet, sweet, still + sweet</p> + + <p class="i2">As great Apollo's lyre, or Pan's plain + reed,</p> + + <p>His music flowed, but slowly he out-beat</p> + + <p class="i2">His song to finer issues. Fingers + fleet,</p> + + <p>That trifled with the pipe-stops, shook grand + sound</p> + + <p class="i2">From the great organ's golden mouths + anon.</p> + + <p>A mellow-measured might, a beauty bound</p> + + <p class="i6">(As Venus with her zone)</p> + + <p>By that which shaped from chaos Earth, Air, Sky,</p> + + <p>The unhampering restraint of Harmony.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Hysteric ecstasy, new fierce, now faint,</p> + + <p class="i2">But ever fever-sick, shook not his + lyre</p> + + <p>With epileptic fervours. Sensual taint</p> + + <p class="i2">Of satyr heat, or bacchanal desire,</p> + + <p>Polluted not the passion of his song;</p> + + <p class="i2">No corybantic clangor clamoured + through</p> + + <p>Its manly harmonies, as sane as strong;</p> + + <p class="i6">So that the captious few</p> + + <p>Found sickliness in pure Elysian balm,</p> + + <p>And coldness in such high Olympian calm.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Impassioned purity, high minister</p> + + <p class="i2">Of spirit's joys, was his, reserved, + restrained.</p> + + <p>His song was like the sword Excalibur</p> + + <p class="i2">Of his symbolic knight; trenchant, + unstained.</p> + + <p>It shook the world of wordly baseness, smote</p> + + <p class="i2">The Christless heathendom of huckstering + days.</p> + </div> + </div><span class="pagenum"><a name="page175" + id="page175"></a>[pg 175]</span> + + <div class="figcenter" + style="width:100%;"> + <a href="images/175.png"><img width="100%" + src="images/175.png" + alt="'CROSSING THE BAR.'" /></a> + + <h3>"CROSSING THE BAR."</h3> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>"TWILIGHT AND EVENING BELL,</p> + + <p class="i2">AND AFTER THAT THE DARK"</p> + + <p>"AND MAY THERE BE NO SADNESS OF FAREWELL,</p> + + <p class="i2">WHEN I EMBARK."—TENNYSON.</p> + </div> + </div> + </div><span class="pagenum"><a name="page177" + id="page177"></a>[pg 177]</span> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>There is no harshness in that mellow note,</p> + + <p class="i6">No blot upon those bays;</p> + + <p>For loyal love and knightly valour rang</p> + + <p>Through rich immortal music when he sang.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>ARTHUR, his friend, the Modern Gentleman,</p> + + <p class="i2">ARTHUR, the hero, his ideal Knight,</p> + + <p>Inspired his strains. From fount to flood they + ran</p> + + <p class="i2">A flawless course of melody and + light.</p> + + <p>A Christian chivalry shone in his song</p> + + <p class="i2">From Locksley Hall to shadowy + Lyonnesse,</p> + + <p>Whence there stand forth two figures, stately, + strong,</p> + + <p class="i6">Symbols of spirit's stress;</p> + + <p>The blameless King, saintship with scarce a + blot,</p> + + <p>And song's most noble sinner, LANCELOT.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Lover of England, lord of English hearts,</p> + + <p class="i2">Master of English speech, painter + supreme</p> + + <p>Of English landscape! Patriot passion starts</p> + + <p class="i2">A-flame, pricked by the words that glow + and gleam</p> + + <p>In those imperial pęans, which might arm</p> + + <p class="i2">Pale cowards for the fray. Touched by his + hand</p> + + <p>The simple sweetness, and the homely charm</p> + + <p class="i6">Of our green garden-land</p> + + <p>Take on a witchery as of Arden's glade,</p> + + <p>Or verdant Vallombrosa's leafy shade.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>The fragrant fruitfulness of wood and wold,</p> + + <p class="i2">Of flowery upland, and of + orchard-lawn,</p> + + <p>Lit by the lingering evening's softened gold,</p> + + <p class="i2">Or flushed with rose-hued radiance of the + dawn;</p> + + <p>Bird-music beautiful; the robin's trill,</p> + + <p class="i2">Or the rook's drowsy clangour; flats that + run</p> + + <p>From sky to sky, dusk woods that drape the hill,</p> + + <p class="i6">Still lakes that draw the sun;</p> + + <p>All, all are mirror'd in his verse, and there</p> + + <p>Familiar beauties shine most strangely fair.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Poet, the pass-key magical was thine,</p> + + <p class="i2">To Beauty's Fairy World, in classic + calm</p> + + <p>Or rich romantic colour. Bagdat's shrine</p> + + <p class="i2">By sheeny Tigris, Syrian pool and + palm,</p> + + <p>Avilion's bowery hollows, Ida's peak,</p> + + <p class="i2">The lily-laden Lotos land, the fields</p> + + <p>Of amaranth! What may vagrant Fancy seek</p> + + <p class="i6">More than thy rich song yields,</p> + + <p>Of Orient odour, Faėry wizardry,</p> + + <p>Or soft Arcadian simplicity?</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>From all, far Faėry Land, Romance's realm,</p> + + <p class="i2">Green English homestead, cloud-crown'd + Attic hill,</p> + + <p>The Poet passes—whither? Not the helm</p> + + <p class="i2">Of wounded ARTHUR, lit by light that + fills</p> + + <p>Avilion's fair horizons, gleamed more bright</p> + + <p class="i2">Than does that leonine laurelled visage + now,</p> + + <p>Fronting with steadfast look that mystic Light.</p> + + <p class="i6">Grave eye, and gracious brow</p> + + <p>Turn from the evening bell, the earthly shore,</p> + + <p>To face the Light that floods him evermore.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Farewell! How fitlier should a poet pass</p> + + <p class="i2">Than thou from that dim chamber and the + gleam</p> + + <p>Of poor earth's purest radiance? Love, alas!</p> + + <p class="i2">Of that strange scene must long in sorrow + dream.</p> + + <p>But we—we hear thy manful music still!</p> + + <p class="i2">A royal requiem for a kingly soul!</p> + + <p>No sadness of farewell! Away regret,</p> + + <p class="i6">When greatness nears its goal!</p> + + <p>We follow thee, in thought, through light, afar</p> + + <p>Divinely piloted beyond the bar!</p> + </div> + </div> + <hr /> + + <h2>TO MY SWEETHEART.</h2> + + <blockquote class="note"> + <p>["Those roses you bought and gave to me are marvels. + They are still alive."—<i>Her Letter</i>.]</p> + </blockquote> + + <div class="figright" + style="width:35%;"> + <a href="images/177.png"><img width="100%" + src="images/177.png" + alt="" /></a> + </div> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>A Hothouse where some roses blew,</p> + + <p class="i2">And, whilst the outer world was + white,</p> + + <p>The gentle roses softly grew</p> + + <p class="i2">To fragrant visions of delight.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Some wretched florist owned them all,</p> + + <p class="i2">And plucked them from their native + bowers,</p> + + <p>Then gaily showed them on his stall</p> + + <p class="i2">To swell the ranks of "Fresh-Cut + Flowers."</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p><i>Some</i> went beside a bed of pain</p> + + <p class="i2">Where influenza claimed its due;</p> + + <p>They drooped and never smiled again,</p> + + <p class="i2">The epidemic had them too.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>A gay young gallant bought some buds,</p> + + <p class="i2">And jauntily went out to dine</p> + + <p>With other reckless sporting bloods,</p> + + <p class="i2">Who talked of women, drank of wine;</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>But whilst they talked, and smoked, and drank,</p> + + <p class="i2">And told tales not too sanctified.</p> + + <p>Abashed the timid blossoms shrank,</p> + + <p class="i2">Changed colour, faded, and then died.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Yet roses, too, I gave to you,</p> + + <p class="i2">I saw you place them near your heart,</p> + + <p>You wore them all the evening through,</p> + + <p class="i2">You wore them when we came to part.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>But now you write to me, my dear,</p> + + <p class="i2">And marvel that they are not dead,</p> + + <p>Their beauty does not disappear,</p> + + <p class="i2">Their fragrant perfume has not fled.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p class="i2">The reason's plain. Somehow aright</p> + + <p>The flowers know if we ignore them.</p> + + <p class="i2">The roses live for sheer delight</p> + + <p>At knowing, Sweetheart, that <i>you</i> wore + them.</p> + </div> + </div> + <hr /> + + <h2>THOUGHTS—NOT WORTH A PENNY.</h2> + + <h4>(<i>Fragment from the Burlesque-Romance of "No Cents; or, + The New Criticism."</i>)</h4> + + <p>The Critic of the new cult visited a tailor's establishment, + and was delighted with all he saw. There were coats, and vests, + and other garments.</p> + + <p>"I make some fifty per cent. profit," said the proprietor of + the establishment, stroking his moustache with a hand adorned + with many a diamond ring. "Of course it causes some labour, + thought, and time—but I get my money for my trouble."</p> + + <p>"And why not?" replied the Critic. "Are you not worth it? Do + you not devote your energy to it? Must you not live?"</p> + + <p>And, having said this, the Reviewer visited another place of + business. This time he had entered the office of a + Stockbroker.</p> + + <p>"Of course it is rather anxious work sometimes," said the + alternative representative of a bull and a bear. "But it pays + in the long run. I manage to keep up a house in South + Kensington, and a carriage and pair, out of my takings."</p> + + <p>"Again, why not?" responded the Critic. "You have a wife and + family. Must you not live?" Then the Critic visited + Cheesemongers, and Bankers, Solicitors, and Upholsterers. At + last, he reached the modest abode of an Author.</p> + + <p>"Ah!" said he, in a tone of contempt; "you write books and + plays! Why?</p> + + <p>"Why, to sell them," answered the Poet, in a faltering + voice.</p> + + <p>"Sell them!" echoed the Critic, in tones of thunder. "What + do you mean by that?"</p> + + <p>"Why, one must live!"</p> + + <p>"Nonsense! The universe can get on very well without anyone. + You might be dispensed with; and, if it comes to that, so might + I. Yes, I am not wanted."</p> + + <p>"Quite true!" murmured the Author; "indeed, you are + not!"</p> + + <p>"And, after all, what <i>is</i> your work? Mere brain + action! Anyone who could wield a pen could do it for you! And + you expect to be paid, as if you were a tradesman—a + Tailor or an Upholsterer!"</p> + + <p>"But am I not a man and a brother? Do I not get hungry, like + anyone else? Have I not a wife and family?"</p> + + <p>"That is entirely beside the question," persisted the + Critic. "All you have to consider are the claims of Art. Now, + Art is not to be served by paid votaries."</p> + + <p>"Then I suppose am unworthy," replied the Author, mournfully + shaking his head. Well, let us exchange places. You shall be + the Author, and I will be the Critic."</p> + + <p>"Very sorry, my dear friend, but that is an unjust division. + By that means you would receive all the money."</p> + + <p>"And why not? If I am to write, why am I not to be + paid?"</p> + + <p>"Because it is beneath the dignity of an Author to write + with a view to obtaining cash."</p> + + <p>"Indeed! Well, I am tired of work. You have nothing to do + but criticise. Let us swap positions."</p> + + <p>"Are you mad?" shouted the Critic. "Why, I am fond of my + work. You don't imagine I am going to give up my salary to you? + Why, it would demoralise you. I know the drawback of the + system." And the Author applied himself to the study of the New + Criticism, and it seemed as great a mystery to him as ever.</p> + <hr /> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page178" + id="page178"></a>[pg 178]</span> + + <h2>LADY GAY'S SELECTIONS.</h2> + + <p class="author"><i>Mount Street, Grosvenor Square</i>.</p> + + <p>DEAR MR. PUNCH,</p> + + <p>Nothing but a keen sense of duty, coupled with the + possession of <i>the</i> smartest thing in waterproof overcoats + ever seen, would have tempted me to go racing last week; but + the claims of Hurst Park were not to be denied, and my reward + was, assisting at perhaps the most successful meeting ever held + there—(the backers "went down" to a man, and so did the + excellent lunch—so what more <i>could</i> you + want?)—and, in addition, being told by at least twenty + people, the name of the winner of the Cesarewitch!—they + all named different horses, so that <i>one</i> is almost + certain to be able to say next week, in that annoying tone of + voice people adopt after a successful prophecy—(this does + <i>not</i> apply to Just Prophets, who are notoriously modest + in success)—"<i>There</i>! I <i>told</i> you it was a + certainty for <i>Whiteface</i>!—couldn't + lose!—<i>of course</i> you backed it, after what I told + you!"—which of course was the very reason why you + <i>hadn't</i> backed it; however—as he may really be able + to tell you something on a future occasion, you put on a + ghastly smile, and say—"Oh, yes—I had a trifle + on—but my <i>money</i> was on <i>Blackfoot</i> before you + told me—but it got me out!"—and it does "get you + out" too, for nothing is more annoying than to be told you + "ought to have won a good stake!"</p> + + <p>However, with regard to the great race next week, I am + fortunately able to set aside all "information received," + because I have had <i>a dream</i>!—not one of the + ordinary lobster-salad kind of racing-dreams one reads + about—(naturally <i>I</i> should not have an inferior + kind, having ordered in a stock of the "best selected," one to + be taken every night at bed-time)—in which the dreamer + only sees <i>one</i> horse—but a most complicated affair, + from which it will be an easy task for anyone skilled in + dream-lore to extract the winner!</p> + + <p>Well—I had been rather upset during the day, so to + quiet my nerves, on reaching home, I took, before going to bed, + just a little <i>Golden Drop</i> of <i>Brandy</i> as an + <i>Insurance</i> against restlessness—went to sleep, and + dreamt that my friends <i>Lady Villikins</i> and <i>Madame + d'Albany</i>, with their maid <i>Helen Ware</i>, were attacked + on their way from <i>Illsley</i> to <i>Weymouth</i>, by some + <i>Dare Devil</i> of a <i>Circassian</i>, whose horse's hoofs + rang in a <i>Metallic</i> manner on the road! They were rescued + in the pass of <i>Ben Avon</i> by the gallant <i>Burnaby</i>, + who after a long <i>Rigmarole</i>, squared their captor, <i>Roy + Neil</i>, with a <i>Hanover Jack</i>, and acted as their + <i>Pilot</i> to safe quarters at <i>Versailles</i>! + There!—that was my dream—and I think it points most + conclusively to the winner; and, anyone unable to pick the + right one, need only back them <i>all</i>, and there you + are!—or at least you <i>may</i> be. If they don't care to + do this, they can avail themselves of my verse + selection—which I did <i>not</i> dream—and which, + therefore, is <i>quite</i> as reliable.</p> + + <p class="author">Yours, devotedly, LADY GAY.</p> + + <h3 class="sc">Cesarewitch Selection.</h3> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Oh, <i>Weymouth</i> is a pleasant <i>place</i>,</p> + + <p class="i2">And bathing tents are handy;</p> + + <p>When coming out, if white your face,</p> + + <p class="i2">Why, take a nip of <i>Brandy</i>.</p> + </div> + </div> + + <p>P.S.—This advice is not intended for confirmed + Topers.</p> + <hr /> + + <p>"SUR LE TAPIS."—If the new Carpet Knight, Sir BLONDEL + MAPLE—which is our troubadourish way of spelling + it—be exceptionally successful on the Turf, isn't he just + the man to "make his 'pile' and cut it"?</p> + <hr /> + + <div class="figcenter" + style="width:50%;"> + <a href="images/178.png"><img width="100%" + src="images/178.png" + alt="A CONTENTED MIND." /></a> + + <h3>A CONTENTED MIND.</h3> + + <p><i>He</i>. "A—THE FACT IS, I DON'T CARE FOR + POPULARITY. I ONLY WISH MY BOOKS TO BE ADMIRED BY THOSE + WHOSE ADMIRATION IS REALLY WORTH HAVING!"</p> + + <p><i>She</i>. "AND WHO ARE THEY?"</p> + + <p><i>He</i>. "THOSE WHO ADMIRE MY BOOKS!"</p> + </div> + <hr /> + + <h2>OUR BOOKING-OFFICE.</h2> + + <p>Not the least interesting figure in the circle of <i>The + Racing Life of Lord George Bentinck</i>, which Messrs. + BLACKWOOD produce in a handsome volume, is that of JOHN KENT, + who, under the editorship of Mr. FRANK LAWLEY, tells the story. + KENT was trainer to Lord GEORGE during the period when, to + quote the characteristic Disraelian phrase, his Lordship became + "Lord Paramount of the Turf." It is forty-four years since Lord + GEORGE was found lying dead on his face in the water-meadows + near Welbeck Abbey. Yet KENT remembers all about him—his + six feet of height, his long black frock-coat, his velvet + waistcoat, his gold chain, and his "costly cream-coloured satin + scarf of great length, knotted under his chin, with a gold pin + stuck in it." These scarves cost twenty shillings a-piece, and + it was one of Lord GEORGE's fancies never to wear one a second + time. When he died whole drawersful of them were found, and + honest JOHN KENT purchased half-a-dozen from his Lordship's + valet, who seems to have kept his eye on them. Did he ever wear + them on Sundays? My Baronite who has been reading the book + trows not. JOHN KENT knows his place better than that, and when + he goes the way that masters and servants tread together, the + scarves will doubtless be found tucked away in <i>his</i> chest + of drawers. My Baronite is not able to take the same lofty view + of the defunct nobleman who played at politics and worked at + racing as does his faithful old servitor. Lord GEORGE seems to + have been, as the cabman observed of the late JOHN FORSTER, "a + harbitery gent," kind to those who faithfully serve him (as one + is kind to a useful hound), but relentless to any who offended + him or crossed his path. Moreover, whilst, as his biographer + devoutly says, he purified the turf, he was not, upon occasion, + above fighting blacklegs with their own weapons. The book gives + clear glimpses of men and times which, less than half a century + dead, will never live again. It pleasantly testifies that, + though no man may be a hero to his valet, Lord GEORGE BENTINCK + remains one in the eyes of his trainer.</p> + + <p>The Baron not having read a three-volume novel for some + considerable time, may safely affirm, instead of taking his + oath, that Mrs. OLIPHANT's <i>The Cuckoo in the Nest</i> is one + of the best he has come across for quite two months. It opens + well, and if it drops a bit about the middle, there are all + sorts of surprises yet in store for the reader, who, the Baron + assures him or her, will be rewarded for his, or her, + perseverance.</p> + + <p>The Baron begs to recommend the latest volume of the + Whitefriars Library, called <i>King Zub</i>, by W.H. POLLOCK. + <i>Zub</i> is a wise poodle, and the waggish tale of the dog + gives the name to the collection. <i>The Fleeting Show</i> is + quite on a par with <i>The Green Lady</i> in a former + collection by the same author, and such other stories as <i>Sir + Jocelyn's Cap</i> and <i>A Phantom Fish</i> will delight those + who, like the Baron, love the mixture as before of the weird + and the humorous. In the <i>Phantom Fish</i> there is much + local dialect, and The Baron coming across the expression, "a + proper bender," is inclined to ask if this is not + Zummerzetsheer for, and only applicable to, a running hare? The + Baron remembers the expression well, though 'tis years since he + heard it, and owns to being uncertain as to whether it is not + Devonian or Cornish. That he heard it applied to a hare + apparent he is prepared to make oath and say; but he is not in + the least prepared to assert that it is not generally applied + as an expression of admiration for adroitness in avoiding + pursuit. "Be that as it may, give me <i>King Zub</i> and the + other stories, a good fire, a glass of spiritual comfort, a + cosy chair, and a soothing pipe, and I am prepared to spend a + pleasant evening," says</p> + + <p class="author">THE BARON DE BOOK-WORMS.</p> + <hr /> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page179" + id="page179"></a>[pg 179]</span> + + <div class="figcenter" + style="width:100%;"> + <a href="images/179.png"><img width="100%" + src="images/179.png" + alt="MR. PUNCH'S DEER-STALKING PARTY." /></a> + + <h3>MR. PUNCH'S DEER-STALKING PARTY.</h3> + </div> + <hr /> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page180" + id="page180"></a>[pg 180]</span> + + <h2>CONVERSATIONAL HINTS FOR YOUNG SHOOTERS.</h2> + + <h4>(<i>By Mr. Punch's own Grouse in the Gun-room.</i>)</h4> + + <p>In our last (it is <i>Mr. Punch</i> who speaks), we + indicated very briefly the conversational possibilities of the + Gun. It must be observed, that this treatise makes no + pretensions to be exhaustive. Something must, after all, be + left to the ingenuity of the young shooter who desires to talk + of sport. All that these hints profess, is to put him in the + way of shining, if there is a certain amount of natural + brightness to begin upon. The next subject will be—</p> + + <h3 class="sc">Cartridges.</h3> + + <div class="figleft" + style="width:22%;"> + <a href="images/180-1.png"><img width="100%" + src="images/180-1.png" + alt="" /></a> + </div> + + <p>To a real talker, this subject offers an infinite variety of + opportunities. First, you can begin to fight the battle of the + powders, as thus:—</p> + + <p>"What powder are you shooting with this year, CHALMERS?"</p> + + <p>"Schultze."</p> + + <p>"How do you find it kill?"</p> + + <p>"Deadly—absolutely-deadly: best lot I've ever + had."</p> + + <p>You need not say anything more now. The discussion will get + along beautifully without you, for you will have drawn, (1), + the man who very much prefers E.C., which he warrants to kill + at a distance no other powder can attain to; (2), the man who + uses E.C. or Schultze for his right barrel, and always puts a + black-powder cartridge into his left; (3), the detester of + innovations, who means to go on using the good old black-powder + for both barrels as long as he lives; and (4), the man who is + trying an entirely new patent powder, infinitely superior to + anything else ever invented, and is willing to give everybody, + not only the address of the maker, but half a dozen cartridges + to try.</p> + + <p>You cannot make much of "charges" of powder. Good shots are + dogmatic on the point, and ordinary shots don't bother their + heads about it, trusting entirely to the man who sells them + their cartridges. Still you might throw out, here and there, a + few words about "drams" and "grains." Only, above all things, + be careful <i>not</i> to mention drams in connection with + anything but black powder, nor grains, except with reference to + Schultze or E.C. A laboriously-acquired reputation as a + scientific shot has been known to be ruined by a want of + clearness on this important point.</p> + + <p>"Shot." Conversationally much more valuable than powder. + "Very few people agree," says a well-known authority; "as to + what is the best size of shot to use, and many forget that the + charge which will suit one gun, and one description of game, + will not do as well for another. Usually, one gun will shoot + better one size of shot than will another, and we may safely + say, that large bores shoot large shot better than do smaller + bores." This last sentence has the beautiful ring of a profound + truism. Lay it by for use, and bring it out with emphasis in + the midst of such disagreement and forgetfulness as are here + alluded to. "If a shooter is a good shot," says the same + classic, "he may use No. 6 early in the season, and only for + partridges—afterwards, nothing but No. 5. To the average + shot, No. 6 throughout the season." This sounds dreadfully + invidious. If a good shot cannot kill grouse with No. 6, how on + earth is a merely average shot to do the trick? But, in these + matters, the conversationalist finds his opportunity. Only they + must not be pushed too far. There was once a party of genial, + light-hearted friends, who went out shooting. Early in the day, + slight differences of opinion made themselves observed with + reference to the size of shot. Lunch found them still more or + less good-tempered, but each obstinately determined not to give + way even by a fraction on the point under discussion.</p> + + <div class="figleft" + style="width:23%;"> + <a href="images/180-2.png"><img width="100%" + src="images/180-2.png" + alt="" /></a> + </div> + + <p>Afterwards they began again. The very dogs grew ashamed of + the noise, and went home. That afternoon there was peace in the + world of birds—at least, on that particular + shooting—and the next morning saw the shooting-parties of + England reduced by one, which had separated in different + dog-carts, and various stages of high dudgeon, for the railway + station. So, please to be very, very careful. Use the methods + of compromise. If you find your friend obstinately pinned to + No. 5, when you have declared a preference for No. 6, meet him + half-way, or even profess to be converted by his arguments. Or + tell him the anecdote about the Irishman, who always shot snipe + with No. 4, because, "being such a little bird, bedad, you want + a bigger shot to get at the beggar." You can then inform him + how you yourself once did dreadful execution among driven + grouse in a gale of wind with No. 8 shot, which you had brought + out by mistake. You may object that you never, as a matter of + fact, did this execution, never having even shot at all with + No. 8. Tush! you are puling. If you are going to let a + conscientious accuracy stand in your way like this, you had + better become dumb when sporting talk is flying about. Of + course you must not exaggerate too much. Only bumptious fools + do that, and they are called liars for their pains. But a + <i>little</i> exaggeration, just a <i>soupēon</i> of romance, + does no one any harm, while it relieves the prosaic dullness of + the ordinary anecdote. So, swallow your scruples, and</p> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Join the gay throng</p> + + <p>That goes talking along,</p> + + <p class="i2">For we'll all go romancing to-day.</p> + </div> + </div> + + <center> + (<i>To be continued.</i>) + </center> + <hr /> + + <h2>DOE VERSUS ROE(DENT).</h2> + + <blockquote class="note"> + <p>["The basements of the Royal Courts of Justice have + lately been invaded by swarms of mice. They have become + very audacious, and have penetrated into the Courts + themselves, whose walls are lined with legal volumes, the + leaves of which provide them with a rich + feast."—<i>Daily Paper</i>.]</p> + </blockquote> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>For students of the law to "eat</p> + + <p class="i2">Their terms" is obviously right,</p> + + <p>But to devour the books themselves</p> + + <p class="i8">Is impolite.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Unfortunately Mr. STREET.</p> + + <p class="i2">Who planned the legal edif-īce,</p> + + <p>Designed a splendid trap for men,</p> + + <p class="i8">But not for mice.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>To view the Courts at midnight now,</p> + + <p class="i2">The Courts all in the stilly Strand,</p> + + <p>With rodents squeaking out their pleas,</p> + + <p class="i8">That <i>would</i> be grand!</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>No Ushers 'ush them; they consume</p> + + <p class="i2">The stiffest calf you ever saw,</p> + + <p>Developing, these curious beasts,</p> + + <p class="i8">A taste for Law.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>They fill—perhaps—the box wherein,</p> + + <p class="i2">Twelve bothered men have often sat,</p> + + <p>And try, with every proper form,</p> + + <p class="i8">Some absent cat.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>A fore-mouse probably they choose,</p> + + <p class="i2">The culprit's advocate deride,</p> + + <p>And fix upon that cat the guilt</p> + + <p class="i8">Of mouseycide.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>At the Refreshment-bars, perchance,</p> + + <p class="i2">They eat the cakes, and drink the + milk,</p> + + <p>And in the Robing-room indulge</p> + + <p class="i8">In "taking silk."</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>The Judges' sacred Bench itself</p> + + <p class="i2">From scampering feet is not exempt;</p> + + <p>With calmness they commit, of Court,</p> + + <p class="i8">Frightful "contempt."</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Through <i>Byles on Bills</i> they eat their + way;</p> + + <p class="i2">Law "Digests" they at will digest;</p> + + <p>Not even <i>Coke on Littleton</i></p> + + <p class="i8">Sticks on <i>their</i> chests!</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Wanted—the stodgiest Law-book out!</p> + + <p class="i2">The Judges soon <i>must</i> note these + facts,</p> + + <p>And try a copy of the Ju-</p> + + <p class="i8">-dicature Acts!</p> + </div> + </div> + <hr /> + + <h3>WHY THE FRENCH WON THE BOAT-RACE.</h3> + + <h4>(<i>Answers supplied by an Unprejudiced Briton.</i>)</h4> + + <div class="figright" + style="width:16%;"> + <a href="images/180-3.png"><img width="100%" + src="images/180-3.png" + alt="" /></a> + </div> + + <p>Because the English Eight had had no practice on the + Seine.</p> + + <p>Because the Londoners had had a fearful passage crossing the + Channel.</p> + + <p>Because they smashed their boat, and had to have it + repaired.</p> + + <p>Because the English steering might have been better.</p> + + <p>Because the weather was intolerable, and chiefly affected + the Englishmen.</p> + + <p>Because the Londoners had no chance of pulling together.</p> + + <p>Because the French knew the course better than the + English.</p> + + <p>Because the race should have been rowed weeks before.</p> + + <p>Because the race should not have been rowed for months.</p> + + <p>Because the British naturally liked to see the foreigners + win.</p> + + <p>And last (and least), because the French had by far the + better crew!</p> + <hr /> + + <p>ECCLESIASTICAL INTELLIGENCE.—The style, title, office, + and dignity of Archbishop of Canterbury, with all appurtenances + thereto belonging, with all emoluments, spiritualities and + temporalities appertaining, have been conferred by letters + patent, under supreme authority, according to Act V. Henricus + Noster in such cases made and provided, on the Rev. Mr. + VINCENT, in consequence of the retirement of the Right Rev. + ARTHUR STIRLING from the said office; the duties of which he so + recently and so effectively performed between the hours of + ten-thirty and eleven-fifteen every night for several months at + the Theatre Royal Lyceum. We are in a position to add, that his + resignation of this high and valuable office, has not taken + place in consequence of any question as to the validity or + invalidity of orders ("not admitted after 7·30"), nor has this + step been rendered imperative by reason of any "irregularity" + in "properties" or "appointments."</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, October 15, 1892, by Various + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PUNCH *** + +***** This file should be named 15453-h.htm or 15453-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/1/5/4/5/15453/ + +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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