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diff --git a/15453.txt b/15453.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..07c665b --- /dev/null +++ b/15453.txt @@ -0,0 +1,1794 @@ +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: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PUNCH *** + + + + +Produced by Malcolm Farmer, William Flis, and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team. + + + + + +PUNCH, + +OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. + +VOL. 103. + + + +October 15, 1892. + + + + +'ARRY AT 'ARRYGATE. + +(_SECOND LETTER._) + +[Illustration] + + DEAR CHARLIE,--The post-mark, no doubt, will surprise you. I'm + still at the "Crown," + Though I said in my last--wot wos true--I was jest on the mizzle + for town. + 'Ad a letter from nunky, old man, with another small cheque. Good + old nunk! + So I'm in for a fortnit' more sulphur and slosh, afore doing a bunk. + + Ah! I've worked it, my pippin, I've worked it; gone in for + hexcursions all round, + To Knaresborough, Bolton, and Fountains. You know, dear old pal, + I'll be bound, + As hantiquities isn't my 'obby, and ruins don't fetch me, not much! + I can't see their "beauty," no more than the charms of some dowdy + old Dutch. + + A Castle, all chunnicks of stone, or a Habbey, much out of repair, + A skelinton Banquetting 'All, and a bit of a broken-down stair, + May appear most perticular "precious" to them as the picteresk cops; + But give me the sububs and stucco, smart villas, and + spick-and-span shops. + + "Up to date" is our _siney quay non_ in these days. _Fang der + sickle_, yer know. + Wich is French for the same, I persoom, and them phrases is now + all the go. + Find 'em sprinkled all over the papers; in politics, fashion, or + art, + If you carnt turn 'em slick round yer tongue, you ain't modern, or + knowing, or smart. + + Still a houting to Bolton ain't bad when the _charry-bang's_ well + loaded up + With swell seven-and-sixpence-a-headers. _I_ felt like a tarrier-pup + On the scoop arter six weeks of kennel and drench in the 'ands of + a vet; + I'd got free of the brimstoney flaviour and went it accordin', you + bet! + + 'Ad a day at a village called Birstwith. The most tooralooralest + scene, + 'Oiler down among 'ills, dontcher know, ancient trees and a jolly + big green. + Reglar old Rip-van-Winkleish spot, sech as CALDECOTT ought to ha' + sketched. + Though I ain't noways nuts on the pastoral, even Yours Truly wos + fetched. + + Pooty sight and no error, old pal! 'Twos a grand "Aughticultural + Show," + So the "Progrum of Sports" told the public. Fruit, flowers, and + live poultry, yer know. + Big markee and a range of old 'en-coops, sports, niggers, a smart + local band, + Cottage gardemn', cheese, roosters, and races! Rum mix, but I gave + it a 'and. + + I do like to hencourage the joskins. One thing though, wos + fiddle-de-dee, + They 'ad a "Refreshment Tent," CHARLIE. 'Oh my! Ginger-ale and + weak tea! + Nothink stronger, old pal, s'elp me bob! Fancy _me_ flopping down + on a form + A-munching plum-putty, and lapping Bohea as wos not even warm! + + This 'ere 'Arrygate's short of amusements. There's niggers and + bands on the "Stray" + (Big lumpy old field in a 'ole, wich if properly managed might pay.) + Mysterious Minstrels with masks on, a bleating contralto in black, + With a orful tremoler, my pippin!--yus, these are the pick of the + pack. + + Bit sick of "_Ta-ra-ra_" and "_Knocked 'em_;" "_Carissimar_" gives + me the 'ump, + For I 'ear it some six times per morning; and then there's a footy + old pump + Blows staggery toons on a post-'orn for full arf a-hour each day, + To muster the mugs for a coach-drive. My heye and a bandbox, it's + gay! + + At the "Crown" we git up little barnies, to eke out the 'Arrygate + lot, + For even the Spa's a bit samesome for six times a week when it's + 'ot; + Though they do go it pooty permiskus with pickter-shows, concerts, + and such; + Yus, I must say they ladles it out fair and free, for a sixpenny + touch. + + But even yer Fancy Dress Balls, and yer lectures by ANNIE BESANT, + All about Hastral Bodies and Hether, seems not always _quite_ wot + yer want + To wile away time arter dinner. So thanks to that + gent--six-foot-four!-- + Who fair cuts the record as Droring-Room M.C.--of course + _hammytoor_. + + Then we've conjurors, worblers, phrenologists! One 'ad a go at + _my_ chump. + 'E touzled my 'air up tremenjus, and said I'd no hend of a bump + Of somethink he called "Happrybativeness." Feller meant well, I + suppose, + But I didn't quite relish his smile, nor his rummy remarks on my + nose. + + When a tall gurl as pooty as paint, and with cheeks like a + blush--rose in bloom, + 'As 'er lamps all a-larf on yer face, and a giggle goes round the + whole room, + 'Tisn't nice to sit square on a chair, with a feller a-sharpening + 'is wit + On your nob, and a rumpling your 'air till it's like a birch-broom + in a fit! + + One caper we 'ad, on the lawn, wos a spree and no error, old man. + They call it a "Soap-Bubble Tournyment." Soapsuds, a pipe, and a + fan, + Four six--foot posts stuck in the ground with a tape run + around--them's the "props," + And lawn-tennis ain't in it for larks. Oh, the ladies did larf, + though tip-tops! + + Bit sniffy fust off. "Oh!" sez they, "wot a most _hintellectual_ + game!" + But I noticed that them as sneered most wos most anxious to win, + all the same, + The gent he stands slap in the middle, and tries to blow bubbles + like fun, + Wich his pardner fans over the tape; don't it jest keep the girls + on the run! + + Every bubble as crosses the tape afore busting counts one to that + pair, + And the pair as counts most wins the prize. They are timed by a + hegg-boiler. There! + It _wos_ all a pantermime, CHARLIE, to see 'ow them gurls scooted + round, + Jest like Japanese jugglers, a-fanning the bubbles, as _would_ 'ug + the ground. + + Some gents wos fair frosts at the bizness; one good-'earted trim + little toff + Would blow with the bowl wrong end uppards. His pardner went pink + and flounced off. + He gurgled away like a babe with a pap-bottle, guggle--gug--gug! + And I 'eard 'er a-giving 'im beans as 'e mizzled, much down in the + mug. + + Owsomever, it ain't for amusements as 'Arrygate lays itself hout; + So, dear boy, it's for doses and douches; and there it scores + freely, no doubt, + Wy, there's thirty-two Springs in the Bog Field--a place like a + graveyard gone wrong-- + Besides Starbeck, the Tewit, and others, all narsty, and most on + 'em strong. + + Since Sir SLINGSBY discovered the first one, now close on three + cent'ries ago, + Wot a lush of mixed mineral muck these 'ere 'Arrygate Springs 'ave + let flow! + Well, ere's bully for Brimstone, my bloater, and 'ooray for + 'Arrygate air! + Wich 'as done me most good I don't know, and I'm scorched if I + very much care! + + I know 'Arrygate girls cop the biscuit for beauty. They've cheeks + like the rose, + Their skin is jest strorberries and cream; it's the sulphur, dear + boy, I suppose. + As for me, I look yaller as taller alongside 'em CHARLIE, wus luck! + I 'eard one call me saffron-faced sparrer, and jest as I thought + 'er fair struck. + + I'd nail 'em, in time, I've no doubt, when I once got the 'ang of + their style. + There's a gal at the Montpellier Baths. Scissoree! 'ow I've tried + for a smile, + When she tips me my tannersworth! Shucks! she's as orty and stiff + as yer please. + Primrose Dames isn't in it for snubs with these arrygant + 'Arrygatese! + + But I reckon my "Douche" is now due. Doctor BLACK's that + pertikler, old man. + These 'Arrygate doctors 'ave progrums--you've got to pan out to + their plan. + Up early, two swigs afore breakfust, and tubs when they tell yer's + the rule. + Well, the feller as flies to a Sawbones, and _don't_ toe the line + is a fool. + + Reglar Doctor-Shop, 'Arrygate is; see their photos all over the + town. + Mine is doing me dollups of good; I'm quite peckish, and jest a + bit brown. + I'm making the most of my time, and a-laying in all I can carry. + So 'ere ends this budget of brimstone and baths from your + sulphur-soaked + +'ARRY. + + * * * * * + +[Illustration: A FROG HE WOULD A-ROWING GO! + +A SAD SONG OF THE INTERNATIONAL BOAT RACE. + +(_WITH MR. PUNCH'S CORDIAL COMPLIMENTS TO THE VICTORIOUS FRENCH +EIGHT_.) + +AIR--"_A Frog he would a-Wooing go_." + + A FROGGIE would a-rowing go, + Heigho for Rowing! + To see if Big BULLIE could lick him or no; + With his boating form that's all gammon and spinach. + Heigho for British Rowing! + + So off he set with his boating-cap, + Heigho for Rowing! + And swore at Big BULL he would just have a slap! + Which BULL declared was all gammon and spinach! + Heigho for British Rowing! + + "Pray, Mr. BULL, will you race with me?" + Heigho for Rowing! + Says BULL, "If you like, but 'tis fiddle-de-dee! + For FROG against BULL is all gammon and spinach." + Heigho for British Rowing! + + When they came to Andresy upon the Seine, + Heigho for Rowing! + Big BULL pulled his hardest, but pulled in vain, + For he found his boasts were all gammon and spinach. + Heigho for British Rowing! + + For in spite of the brag, and the bounce, and the chaff, + Heigho for Rowing! + The FROG beat the BULL by a length and a half, + With your MOSSOP and JAMES, licked by BOUDIN and CUZIN, + Heigho, says R.C. LEHMANN! + + "Pray, Mr. BULL, do you relish the spin?" + Heigho for Rowing! + (Said FROGGIE.) "And were you cocksure you would win, + With your forty-one strokes all sheer gammon and spinach?" + Heigho for British Rowing! + + "Humph! Regular take-down!" said Big Mr. BULL-- + Heigho for Rowing! + "But, FROGGIE or not, by the lord you can _pull_, + With your much-decried 'hang,'--'twas all gammon and spinach! + Heigho for British Rowing!" + + "Ha! Ha!" cried the FROG, "the old fable, thought true"-- + Heigho for Rowing! + "Is out of date now. I'm as big, BULL, as _you_, + As an oarsman, which is _not_ all gammon and spinach!" + Heigho for British Rowing. + + So that in the end (for the present), you see, + Heigho for Rowing! + Of the race between Big BULL and Little FROGGIE. + BULL's fame, in a boat, seems all gammon and spinach. + Heigho for British Rowing! +] + + * * * * * + +[Illustration: LOOKING AHEAD. + +_Miss Golightly_ (_the Friend of the Family, and to whom Sir Percy +(the elder) has proposed_). "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?"] + + * * * * * + +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. + + * * * * * + +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. + + * * * * * + +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." + + * * * * * + +THE AUSTRO-GERMAN OFFICER'S VADE-MECUM. + +_Q._ You have heard of the Ride from Berlin to Vienna, and _vice +versa_? + +_A._ Yes; and of the mishaps that befell many of the competitors. + +_Q._ You mean their horses? + +_A._ What applies to the one applies to the other. + +_Q._ Some of the poor steeds died on the journey? + +_A._ I daresay--of course, it was hard work. + +_Q._ And you have read that, even when the poor horses were fainting +and refusing food, the riders still went on? + +_A._ Of course. The riders had magnificent pluck and nerve. + +_Q._ What, to observe the anguish of their chargers without emotion? + +_A._ No! The idea! I mean they had pluck and nerve in spite of all +discouragement to push on to the winning-post. + +_Q._ And what do you think this breaking down of the horses proved? + +_A._ That, after all, the creatures were brutes--only brutes! + +_Q._ Does not the suffering of these brutes suggest-- + +_A._ That the riders were brutes too?--Ah! + + [_No further question put, the Answerer having mastered the + subject._ + + * * * * * + +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 "_in partibus_," but _in +nubibus_. + + * * * * * + +IN WATER COLOURS.--The East London Waterworks Company had a very +successful meeting the other day. _Inter alia_ the Chairman said, +that "the Waltham Well is a complete success." _Ergo_ 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. + + * * * * * + +"GREEN THE GUIDE." + +(_A SKETCH ON A "ROYAL BLUE" CAR AT JERSEY._) + + _On the Car is, among others, an Elderly Gentleman, in a + tall hat, with a quantity of wraps; a Stout Shopkeeper, with + a stouter Wife; a Serious Commercial Traveller, and a couple + of young "Shop-ladies"; a Morose Young Man, 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._ + +_The Muzzy Man_. Frivolous, am I? Well, we _came_ '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. + +_His Neighbour_. You might let people find out that for themselves, +_I_ should think! + +_The Muzzy M._ No--I like to be honest and straightforward, I do. I +don't want to be out of the _way_, you understand. + +_The Shopkeeper's Wife_ (_to her Neighbour_). 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 _is_ a nice place, with all them +Music Halls! And the scenery--why, I'm sure I felt sometimes as if I +_must_ stop, just to _look_ at it! + +_The Muzzy Man_. I consider scenery we're coming to most beautiful +I've seen for--for miles around. [_He goes to sleep._ + +[Illustration: "An elderly Gentleman, in a tall hat, with a quantity +of wraps."] + +_The Shopkeeper_ (_to the Elderly G., who is shifting and turning +about uneasily_). Lost anything, Sir? + +_The E.G._ No--thank you, no. I was looking to see whether GREEN the +Guide was on the car. (_Shouts of laughter are heard from the car +behind._) Ah, _that's_ GREEN the Guide! I wish he'd come on our +oar--very amusing fellow, Sir--capital company! + +_The Morose M._ (_to the Young Lady 'on his Left_) Who's GREEN the +Guide? + +_The Y.L._ Oh, don't you know? He comes with the cars and makes jokes +and all that. I hope he'll come to us. + +_The Mor. M._ _I_ don't. I can do that sort of thing for myself if I +want to, I hope. [_With a scowl._ + +_The Y.L._ Well, there's no harm in _hoping_! + +_The Serious Comm. T._ (_to his neighbour--one of the Shop-ladies_). +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. + + [_He imagines--not altogether correctly--that he is producing + an agreeable impression._ + +_A Young Man in a Frock-coat, Canvas-shoes, and Cloth-cap._ +Scarborough? Yes, I've _been_ there--but I don't care about it much. +You have to _dress_ such a lot there, y' know, and I like to come out +just as I am! + + [_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 "GREEN the Guide" in brass letters upon + it; the Elderly Gentleman, and most of the Ladies welcome + him with effusion, while the Younger Men appear to resent + his appearance._ + +_The Mor. M._ (_sotto voce_). If he's going to play that old +instrument of torture, I shall _howl_, that's all! + +_Green the Guide_ (_in a deep baritone voice_). Well, Ladies +and Gentlemen, I congratulate you upon having a fine day for our +excursion. My glass went up three feet this morning. + +_The Morose Man_ (_aggressively_). Was there whiskey inside it? + +_Green the Guide_. No, Sir, it would have gone down suddenly if there +had been. (_The_ Elderly G. _asks for a song_.) I shall be delighted +to entertain you to the best of my ability. What would you like to +have? + +_The Mor. M._ None of your songs--give us an imitation--of a deaf and +dumb man. + +_Green the G._ (_with perfect good-humour_). I shall be happy to do +the deaf man, Sir,--if you'll help me by doing the dumb. (_The_ Mor. +M. _begins to feel that he had better leave_ GREEN the Guide _alone._) +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. + + [_He sings "We'll all go out hunting to-day!"_ + +_The Mor. M._ (_after the First Verse_). The beggar don't sing so +badly. I will say _that_ for him! (_After the Third._) 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!" (_At the end._) +Bravo! encore! encore! + + [_His good-humour is suddenly and miraculously restored._ + +_Green the G._ (_in a tone of instruction_). You will notice that the +thistle is very abundant just here, Ladies and Gentlemen. The reason +of _that_, 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. +(_Outcry of incredulity_.) If you don't believe me, ask the Coachman. + +_The Coachman_ (_stolidly_). It's a fact, Gentlemen, I assure you. + +_G. the G._ 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--(_outcry_)--yes, if you measure up one side, and down the +other. (_They pass a couple of sheep on a slope._) 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 _used_ 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. (_This string of somewhat hoary chestnuts +meets with a success beyond their intrinsic merits, the_ Morose Man +_being as much entertained as anybody._) On your right is an inland +lake of fresh water-- + +_The Muzzy Man_ (_waking up with sudden interest_). Can you drink it +with perfect impunity? + +_G. the G._ Depends how far you are accustomed to it as a beverage, +Sir. (_The car stops at an hotel._) 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 _might_ get blown away! + +ON THE WAY HOME. + +_The Shopkeeper's Wife_ (_to her Husband_). 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 _wish_ you +could ha' seen me, TOM! + +_Tom_ (_philosophically_). Ah, well, I was very comfortable where I +was, settin' in the hotel room there, smoking my pipe. GREEN the Guide +gave us, "_Rocked in the Cradle of the Deep_," in first-rate style--he +is a _singer_, and no mistake! + +_His Wife_. 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! + +_Green the G._ (_mounting the car_). I fear I am an unwelcome visitor. + +_The Eld. G._ (_graciously_). It would be the first time in your life +then, GREEN! + +_G. the G._ 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. (_The Elderly G. explains that his wrappings prevent +him from getting at his purse just then, while the others contribute +with more or less readiness and liberality_.) 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 Jersey National +Song, composed by myself, before leaving. (_He sings a ditty with the +following spirited Chorus_):-- + + There the streets are paved with granite. So neat and clean + And lots of pretty, witty girls, are always to be seen! + With the brave old Mi-litia, Our foes to defy! + And there they grow the Cabba-ges--Ten feet high! + (_All together, Gentlemen, please_!) Yes, there they grow the + Cabbages, there they grow the Cabbages, there they grow + the Cabbages--Ten feet high! + +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. + +_Coachman._ _I've_ never 'eard it better sung, Ladies and Gentlemen, +I assure you. + + [_GREEN the Guide descends in a blaze of popularity, and the + "Royal Blue" rolls on in excellent spirits._ + + * * * * * + +POLITICAL TRAINING. + +_Monday_.--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. + +_Tuesday_.--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. + +_Wednesday_.--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. + +_Thursday_.--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. + +_Friday_.--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. + +_Saturday_.--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. + + * * * * * + +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 _mal de mer_, 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. + + * * * * * + +MOTTOES for the new Lord MAYOR. "_Nil obstet_," "_Nil fortius_," and, +from HORACE, "_Nil amplius oro_." 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--_nil_. + + * * * * * + +SUCH A "LIGHT OPERA!" + +[Illustration: "Pity a Poo' Bar-itone!"] + +Had Sir ARTHUR written the music for _The Mountebanks_, and Sir BRIAN +DE BOIS GILBERT the book of _Haddon Hall_, 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 _A Pair of +Spectacles_ in a volume of French plays. The period to which the very +slight and uninteresting story of _Haddon Hall_ 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've got 'em on"_--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've got 'em on_," with its +enthusiastically treble-encored whiskey fling, capitally danced by +Miss NITA COLE as _Nance_, with Mr. DENNY as _The McCrankie_, 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--["_Music_," observes Mr. WAGG, +parenthetically, "cannot be _drawing_"]--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 +_mise-en-scene._ + + [Illustration:"Christmas is comin'!" + The McClown of McClown dancing. + The Reel Hit of the Opera. + +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. + + * * * * * + +[Illustration: POST-PRANDIAL PESSIMISTS. + +SCENE--_The Smoking-room at the Decadents._ + +_First Decadent_ (_M.A. Oxon._). "AFTER ALL, SMYTHE, WHAT WOULD LIFE +BE WITHOUT COFFEE?" + +_Second Decadent_ (_B.A. Camb._). "TRUE, JEOHNES, TRUE! AND YET, AFTER +ALL, WHAT IS LIFE _WITH_ COFFEE?"] + + * * * * * + +"CROSSING THE BAR." + +IN MEMORIAM. + +ALFRED LORD TENNYSON. + +BORN, AUGUST 5, 1809. DIED, OCTOBER 6, 1892. + +"TALIESSEN is our fullest throat of song."--_The Holy Grail_. + + Our fullest throat of song is silent, hushed + In Autumn, when the songless woods are still, + And with October's boding hectic flushed + Slowly the year disrobes. A passionate thrill + Of strange proud sorrow pulses through the land, + His land, his England, which he loved so well: + And brows bend low, as slow from strand to strand + The Poet's passing bell + Sends forth its solemn note, and every heart + Chills, and sad tears to many an eyelid start. + + Sad tears in sooth! And yet not wholly so. + Exquisite echoes of his own swan-song + Forbid mere murmuring mournfulness; the glow + Of its great hope illumes us. Sleep, thou strong + Full tide, as over the unmeaning bar + Fares this unfaltering darer of the deep, + Beaconed by a Great Light, the pilot-star + Of valiant souls, who keep + Through the long strife of thought-life free from scathe + The luminous guidance of the larger faith. + + No sadness of farewell? Great Singer, crowned + With lustrous laurel, facing that far light, + In whose white radiance dark seems whelmed and drowned, + And death a passing shade, of meaning slight; + Sunset, and evening star, and that clear call, + The twilight shadow, and the evening bell, + Bring naught of gloom for thee. Whate'er befall + Thou must indeed fare well. + But we--we have but memories now, and love + The plaint of fond regret will scarce reprove. + + Great singer, he, and great among the great, + Or greatness hath no sure abiding test. + The poet's splendid pomp, the shining state + Of royal singing robes, were his, confest, + By slowly growing certitude of fame, + Since first, a youth, he found fresh-opening portals + To Beauty's Pleasure-House. Ranked with acclaim + Amidst the true Immortals, + The amaranth fields with native ease he trod, + Authentic son of the lyre-bearing god. + + Fresh portals, untrod pleasaunces, new ways + In Art's great Palace, shrined in Nature's heart, + Sought the young singer, and his limpid lays, + O'er sweet, perchance, yet made the quick blood start + To many a cheek mere glittering; rhymes left cold. + But through the gates of Ivory or of Horn + His vivid vision flocked, and who so bold + As to repulse with scorn + The shining troop because of shadowy birth. + Of bodiless passion, or light tinkling mirth? + + But the true god-gift grows. Sweet, sweet, still sweet + As great Apollo's lyre, or Pan's plain reed, + His music flowed, but slowly he out-beat + His song to finer issues. Fingers fleet, + That trifled with the pipe-stops, shook grand sound + From the great organ's golden mouths anon. + A mellow-measured might, a beauty bound + (As Venus with her zone) + By that which shaped from chaos Earth, Air, Sky, + The unhampering restraint of Harmony. + + Hysteric ecstasy, new fierce, now faint, + But ever fever-sick, shook not his lyre + With epileptic fervours. Sensual taint + Of satyr heat, or bacchanal desire, + Polluted not the passion of his song; + No corybantic clangor clamoured through + Its manly harmonies, as sane as strong; + So that the captious few + Found sickliness in pure Elysian balm, + And coldness in such high Olympian calm. + +[Illustration: "CROSSING THE BAR." + "TWILIGHT AND EVENING BELL, AND AFTER THAT THE DARK" + "AND MAY THERE BE NO SADNESS OF FAREWELL, WHEN I EMBARK."--TENNYSON.] + + Impassioned purity, high minister + Of spirit's joys, was his, reserved, restrained. + His song was like the sword Excalibur + Of his symbolic knight; trenchant, unstained. + It shook the world of wordly baseness, smote + The Christless heathendom of huckstering days. + There is no harshness in that mellow note, + No blot upon those bays; + For loyal love and knightly valour rang + Through rich immortal music when he sang. + + ARTHUR, his friend, the Modern Gentleman, + ARTHUR, the hero, his ideal Knight, + Inspired his strains. From fount to flood they ran + A flawless course of melody and light. + A Christian chivalry shone in his song + From Locksley Hall to shadowy Lyonnesse, + Whence there stand forth two figures, stately, strong, + Symbols of spirit's stress; + The blameless King, saintship with scarce a blot, + And song's most noble sinner, LANCELOT. + + Lover of England, lord of English hearts, + Master of English speech, painter supreme + Of English landscape! Patriot passion starts + A-flame, pricked by the words that glow and gleam + In those imperial paeans, which might arm + Pale cowards for the fray. Touched by his hand + The simple sweetness, and the homely charm + Of our green garden-land + Take on a witchery as of Arden's glade, + Or verdant Vallombrosa's leafy shade. + + The fragrant fruitfulness of wood and wold, + Of flowery upland, and of orchard-lawn, + Lit by the lingering evening's softened gold, + Or flushed with rose-hued radiance of the dawn; + Bird-music beautiful; the robin's trill, + Or the rook's drowsy clangour; flats that run + From sky to sky, dusk woods that drape the hill, + Still lakes that draw the sun; + All, all are mirror'd in his verse, and there + Familiar beauties shine most strangely fair. + + Poet, the pass-key magical was thine, + To Beauty's Fairy World, in classic calm + Or rich romantic colour. Bagdat's shrine + By sheeny Tigris, Syrian pool and palm, + Avilion's bowery hollows, Ida's peak, + The lily-laden Lotos land, the fields + Of amaranth! What may vagrant Fancy seek + More than thy rich song yields, + Of Orient odour, Faery wizardry, + Or soft Arcadian simplicity? + + From all, far Faery Land, Romance's realm, + Green English homestead, cloud-crown'd Attic hill, + The Poet passes--whither? Not the helm + Of wounded ARTHUR, lit by light that fills + Avilion's fair horizons, gleamed more bright + Than does that leonine laurelled visage now, + Fronting with steadfast look that mystic Light. + Grave eye, and gracious brow + Turn from the evening bell, the earthly shore, + To face the Light that floods him evermore. + + Farewell! How fitlier should a poet pass + Than thou from that dim chamber and the gleam + Of poor earth's purest radiance? Love, alas! + Of that strange scene must long in sorrow dream. + But we--we hear thy manful music still! + A royal requiem for a kingly soul! + No sadness of farewell! Away regret, + When greatness nears its goal! + We follow thee, in thought, through light, afar + Divinely piloted beyond the bar! + + * * * * * + +TO MY SWEETHEART. + + ["Those roses you bought and gave to me are marvels. They are + still alive."--_Her Letter_.] + +[Illustration] + + A Hothouse where some roses blew, + And, whilst the outer world was white, + The gentle roses softly grew + To fragrant visions of delight. + + Some wretched florist owned them all, + And plucked them from their native bowers, + Then gaily showed them on his stall + To swell the ranks of "Fresh-Cut Flowers." + + _Some_ went beside a bed of pain + Where influenza claimed its due; + They drooped and never smiled again, + The epidemic had them too. + + A gay young gallant bought some buds, + And jauntily went out to dine + With other reckless sporting bloods, + Who talked of women, drank of wine; + + But whilst they talked, and smoked, and drank, + And told tales not too sanctified. + Abashed the timid blossoms shrank, + Changed colour, faded, and then died. + + Yet roses, too, I gave to you, + I saw you place them near your heart, + You wore them all the evening through, + You wore them when we came to part. + + But now you write to me, my dear, + And marvel that they are not dead, + Their beauty does not disappear, + Their fragrant perfume has not fled. + + The reason's plain. Somehow aright + The flowers know if we ignore them. + The roses live for sheer delight + At knowing, Sweetheart, that _you_ wore them. + + * * * * * + +THOUGHTS--NOT WORTH A PENNY. + +(_FRAGMENT FROM THE BURLESQUE-ROMANCE OF "NO CENTS; OR, THE NEW +CRITICISM."_) + +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. + +"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." + +"And why not?" replied the Critic. "Are you not worth it? Do you not +devote your energy to it? Must you not live?" + +And, having said this, the Reviewer visited another place of business. +This time he had entered the office of a Stockbroker. + +"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." + +"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. + +"Ah!" said he, in a tone of contempt; "you write books and plays! Why? + +"Why, to sell them," answered the Poet, in a faltering voice. + +"Sell them!" echoed the Critic, in tones of thunder. "What do you mean +by that?" + +"Why, one must live!" + +"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." + +"Quite true!" murmured the Author; "indeed, you are not!" + +"And, after all, what _is_ 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!" + +"But am I not a man and a brother? Do I not get hungry, like anyone +else? Have I not a wife and family?" + +"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." + +"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." + +"Very sorry, my dear friend, but that is an unjust division. By that +means you would receive all the money." + +"And why not? If I am to write, why am I not to be paid?" + +"Because it is beneath the dignity of an Author to write with a view +to obtaining cash." + +"Indeed! Well, I am tired of work. You have nothing to do but +criticise. Let us swap positions." + +"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. + + * * * * * + +LADY GAY'S SELECTIONS. + +_Mount Street, Grosvenor Square_. + +DEAR MR. PUNCH, + +Nothing but a keen sense of duty, coupled with the possession of _the_ +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 _could_ 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 _one_ is +almost certain to be able to say next week, in that annoying tone of +voice people adopt after a successful prophecy--(this does _not_ apply +to Just Prophets, who are notoriously modest in success)--"_There_! +I _told_ you it was a certainty for _Whiteface_!--couldn't lose!--_of +course_ you backed it, after what I told you!"--which of course was +the very reason why you _hadn't_ 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 _money_ +was on _Blackfoot_ 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!" + +However, with regard to the great race next week, I am fortunately +able to set aside all "information received," because I have had _a +dream_!--not one of the ordinary lobster-salad kind of racing-dreams +one reads about--(naturally _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 _one_ +horse--but a most complicated affair, from which it will be an easy +task for anyone skilled in dream-lore to extract the winner! + +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 _Golden +Drop_ of _Brandy_ as an _Insurance_ against restlessness--went +to sleep, and dreamt that my friends _Lady Villikins_ and _Madame +d'Albany_, with their maid _Helen Ware_, were attacked on their way +from _Illsley_ to _Weymouth_, by some _Dare Devil_ of a _Circassian_, +whose horse's hoofs rang in a _Metallic_ manner on the road! They were +rescued in the pass of _Ben Avon_ by the gallant _Burnaby_, who after +a long _Rigmarole_, squared their captor, _Roy Neil_, with a _Hanover +Jack_, and acted as their _Pilot_ to safe quarters at _Versailles_! +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 _all_, and there you are!--or at least you _may_ be. If +they don't care to do this, they can avail themselves of my verse +selection--which I did _not_ dream--and which, therefore, is _quite_ +as reliable. + +Yours, devotedly, LADY GAY. + +CESAREWITCH SELECTION. + + Oh, _Weymouth_ is a pleasant _place_, + And bathing tents are handy; + When coming out, if white your face, + Why, take a nip of _Brandy_. + +P.S.--This advice is not intended for confirmed Topers. + + * * * * * + +"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"? + + * * * * * + +[Illustration: A CONTENTED MIND. + +_He_. "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!" + +_She_. "AND WHO ARE THEY?" + +_He_. "THOSE WHO ADMIRE MY BOOKS!"] + + * * * * * + +OUR BOOKING-OFFICE. + +Not the least interesting figure in the circle of _The Racing Life of +Lord George Bentinck_, 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 _his_ +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. + +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 _The Cuckoo in the Nest_ 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. + +The Baron begs to recommend the latest volume of the Whitefriars +Library, called _King Zub_, by W.H. POLLOCK. _Zub_ is a wise poodle, +and the waggish tale of the dog gives the name to the collection. +_The Fleeting Show_ is quite on a par with _The Green Lady_ in a +former collection by the same author, and such other stories as _Sir +Jocelyn's Cap_ and _A Phantom Fish_ will delight those who, like the +Baron, love the mixture as before of the weird and the humorous. In +the _Phantom Fish_ 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 _King Zub_ +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 + +THE BARON DE BOOK-WORMS. + + * * * * * + +[Illustration: MR. PUNCH'S DEER-STALKING PARTY.] + + * * * * * + +CONVERSATIONAL HINTS FOR YOUNG SHOOTERS. + +(_BY MR. PUNCH'S OWN GROUSE IN THE GUN-ROOM._) + +In our last (it is _Mr. Punch_ 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-- + +CARTRIDGES. + +[Illustration] + +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:-- + +"What powder are you shooting with this year, CHALMERS?" + +"Schultze." + +"How do you find it kill?" + +"Deadly--absolutely-deadly: best lot I've ever had." + +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. + +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 _not_ 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. + +"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. + +[Illustration] + +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 _little_ exaggeration, just a _soupcon_ +of romance, does no one any harm, while it relieves the prosaic +dullness of the ordinary anecdote. So, swallow your scruples, and + + Join the gay throng + That goes talking along, + For we'll all go romancing to-day. + +(_To be continued._) + + * * * * * + +DOE VERSUS ROE(DENT). + + ["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."--_Daily Paper_.] + + For students of the law to "eat + Their terms" is obviously right, + But to devour the books themselves + Is impolite. + + Unfortunately Mr. STREET. + Who planned the legal edif-[=i]ce, + Designed a splendid trap for men, + But not for mice. + + To view the Courts at midnight now, + The Courts all in the stilly Strand, + With rodents squeaking out their pleas, + That _would_ be grand! + + No Ushers 'ush them; they consume + The stiffest calf you ever saw, + Developing, these curious beasts, + A taste for Law. + + They fill--perhaps--the box wherein, + Twelve bothered men have often sat, + And try, with every proper form, + Some absent cat. + + A fore-mouse probably they choose, + The culprit's advocate deride, + And fix upon that cat the guilt + Of mouseycide. + + At the Refreshment-bars, perchance, + They eat the cakes, and drink the milk, + And in the Robing-room indulge + In "taking silk." + + The Judges' sacred Bench itself + From scampering feet is not exempt; + With calmness they commit, of Court, + Frightful "contempt." + + Through _Byles on Bills_ they eat their way; + Law "Digests" they at will digest; + Not even _Coke on Littleton_ + Sticks on _their_ chests! + + Wanted--the stodgiest Law-book out! + The Judges soon _must_ note these facts, + And try a copy of the Ju- + -dicature Acts! + + * * * * * + +WHY THE FRENCH WON THE BOAT-RACE. + +(_ANSWERS SUPPLIED BY AN UNPREJUDICED BRITON._) + +[Illustration] + +Because the English Eight had had no practice on the Seine. + +Because the Londoners had had a fearful passage crossing the Channel. + +Because they smashed their boat, and had to have it repaired. + +Because the English steering might have been better. + +Because the weather was intolerable, and chiefly affected the +Englishmen. + +Because the Londoners had no chance of pulling together. + +Because the French knew the course better than the English. + +Because the race should have been rowed weeks before. + +Because the race should not have been rowed for months. + +Because the British naturally liked to see the foreigners win. + +And last (and least), because the French had by far the better crew! + + * * * * * + +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." + + * * * * * + +NOTICE.--Rejected Communications or Contributions, whether MS., +Printed Matter, Drawings, or Pictures of any description, will in no +case be returned, not even when accompanied by a Stamped and Addressed +Envelope, Cover, or Wrapper. To this rule there will be no exception. + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Punch, Or The London Charivari, Vol. +103, October 15, 1892, by Various + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PUNCH *** + +***** This file should be named 15453.txt or 15453.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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