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diff --git a/15594-8.txt b/15594-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..1a84786 --- /dev/null +++ b/15594-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,1781 @@ +The Project Gutenberg eBook, Punch, or the London Charivari, Vol. 103, +October 22, 1892, by Various, Edited by F. C. Burnand + + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + + + + +Title: Punch, or the London Charivari, Vol. 103, October 22, 1892 + + +Author: Various + +Release Date: April 9, 2005 [eBook #15594] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + + +***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI, +VOL. 103, OCTOBER 22, 1892*** + + +E-text prepared by Malcolm Farmer, William Flis, and the Project Gutenberg +Online Distributed Proofreading Team + + + +Note: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this + file which includes the original illustrations. + See 15594-h.htm or 15594-h.zip: + (https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/5/5/9/15594/15594-h/15594-h.htm) + or + (https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/5/5/9/15594/15594-h.zip) + + + + + +PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI + +VOL. 103 + +OCTOBER 22, 1892 + + + + + + + +IN MEMORIAM. + +WILLIAM HARDWICK BRADBURY. + +BORN, DEC. 3, 1832. DIED, OCT. 13, 1892. + + Large-hearted man, most loyal friend, + Art thou too gone--too early lost? + Our comrade true, our tireless host! + Prompt to inspire, console, defend! + Gone! Hearts with grateful memories stored + Ache for thy loss round the old board. + + The well-loved board _he_ loved so well, + His pride, his care, his ceaseless thought; + To him with life-long memories fraught; + For him invested with the spell + O'er a glad present ever cast + By solemn shadows of the past. + + That past for him, indeed, was filled + With a proud spirit-retinue. + Greatness long since his guest he knew. + Whom THACKERAY's manly tones had thrilled; + Who heard keen JERROLD's sparkling speech, + And marked the genial grace of LEECH. + + What changes had he known, who sat + With our four chiefs, of each fast friend! + And must such _camaraderie_ end? + Shall friendly counsel, cordial chat, + Come nevermore again to us + From lips with kindness tremulous? + + No more shall those blue eyes ray out + Swift sympathy, or sudden mirth; + That ever mobile mouth give birth + To frolic whim, or friendly flout? + Our hearts will miss thee to the end, + Amphitryon generous, faithful friend! + + Miss thee? Alas! the void that's there + No other form may hope to fill, + For those who now with sorrow thrill + In gazing on that vacant chair; + Whither it seems he _must_ return, + For whose warm hand-clasp yet we yearn. + + Tribute to genius all may give, + Ours is the homage of the heart; + For a friend lost our tears will start, + Lost to our sight, yet who shall live, + Whilst one who knew that bold frank face + At the old board takes the old place. + + For those, his closer kin, whose home + Is darkened by the shadow grey, + What can respectful love but pray + That consolation thither come + In that most sacred soothing guise + Which natural sorrow sanctifies. + + Bereavement's anguish to assuage + Is a sore task that lies beyond + The scope of friendship or most fond + Affection's power. Yet may this page, + True witness of our love and grief, + To bowed hearts bring some scant relief! + + * * * * * + +"ANECDOTAGE." + +_COMPANION PARAGRAPH TO STORIES OF THE SAME KIND._ + +CURRAN, the celebrated Irish Patriot, was a man of intense wit and +humour. On one occasion he was discussing with RICHARD BRINSLEY +SHERIDAN the possibility of combining the interests of the two +countries under one Crown. "It is a difficult matter to arrange," +observed the brilliant author of the _School for Scandal_, "Right you +are, darlint," acquiesced CURRAN, with the least taste of a brogue. +"But where are ye to find the spalpeens for it? Ye may wake so poor a +creature as a sow, but it takes a real gintleman to raise the rint!" +Then, with a twinkle in his eyes, "But, for all that, ma cruiskeen, +I'm not meself at all at all!" + + * * * * * + +THE LAY OF A SUCCESSFUL ANGLER. + +[Illustration] + + The dainty artificial fly + Designed to catch the wily trout, + Full loud _laudabunt alii_, + And I will join, at times, no doubt, + But yet my praise, without pretence, + Is not from great experience. + + I talk as well as anyone + About the different kinds of tackle, + I praise the Gnat, the Olive Dun, + Discuss the worth of wings and hackle; + I've flies myself of each design, + No book is better filled than mine. + + But when I reach the river's side + Alone, for none of these I wish. + No victim to a foolish pride. + My object is to capture fish; + Let me confess, then, since you ask it-- + A worm it is which fills my basket! + + O brown, unlovely, wriggling worm, + On which with scorn the haughty look, + It is thy fascinating squirm + Which brings the fattest trout to book, + From thee unable to refrain, + Though flies are cast for him in vain! + + Deep gratitude to thee I feel, + And then, perhaps, it's chiefly keen, + When rival anglers view my creel, + And straightway turn a jealous green; + And, should they ask me--"What's your fly?" + "A fancy pattern," I reply! + + * * * * * + +SWORD AND PEN; + +OR, THE RIVAL COMMANDERS. + +(_EXTRACT FROM A MILITARY STORY OF THE NEAR FUTURE._) + +Captain Pipeclay was perplexed when his Company refused to obey him. +He was considered a fairly good soldier, but not up to date. He might +know his drill, he might have read his _Queen's Regulations_, but he +had vague ideas of the power of the Press. + +"You see, Sir," remonstrated his Colour-Sergeant; "if the rear rank +think they should stand fast when you give the command 'Open order!' +it is only a matter of opinion. You may be right, or you may be wrong. +Speaking for myself, I am inclined to fancy that the men are making a +mistake; but you can't always consider yourself omniscient." + +"Sergeant," returned the officer, harshly; "it is not the business of +men to argue, but to obey." + +"Pardon me again, Sir, but isn't that slightly old-fashioned? I know +that theoretically you have reason on your side; but then in these +days of the latter end of the nineteenth century, we must not he bound +too tightly to precedent." + +The Captain bit his moustache for the fourth time, and then again gave +the order. But there was no response. The Company moved not a muscle. + +"This is mutiny!" cried the officer. "I will break everyone of you. +I will put you all in the cells; and in the orderly room to-morrow +morning, we will soon see if there is such a thing as discipline." + +"Discipline!" repeated the Sergeant. "Beg your pardon, Sir, but I +don't think the men understand what you mean. The word is not to be +found in the most recent dictionaries." + +And certainly things seemed to be reaching a climax, for however much +the Commander might shout, not one of the rank and file stirred an +inch. It was at this moment that a cloaked figure approached the +parade-ground. The new-comer strode about with a bearing that +suggested one accustomed to receive obedience. + +"What is the matter?" asked the Disguised One. + +"I can't get my men to obey me," explained the Captain. "I have been +desiring them to take open order for the last ten minutes, and they +remain as they were." + +"What have they to say in their defence?" was the inquiry of the Man +in the Cloak. + +"He won't let us write to the newspapers!" was heard from the ranks. + +"Is this really so?" asked the new-comer, in a tone more of sorrow +than of anger. + +"Well, Sir," returned the Captain, "as it is a rule of the Service +that no communications shall be sent to the Press, I thought that--" + +"You had no right to think, Sir!" was the sharp reply. "Are you so +ignorant that you do not know that it is a birth-right of a true-born +Briton to air his opinions in the organs of publicity? You will allow +the men to go to their quarters at once, that they may state their +grievances on paper. They are at perfect liberty to write what they +please, and they may rest assured that their communications will +escape the grave of the waste-paper basket." + +Thus encouraged, the Company dismissed without further word of +command. + +"And who may you be?" asked the Captain, with some bitterness. "Are +you the Commander-in-Chief?" + +"I am one infinitely more powerful," was the reply. And then the +speaker threw off his disguise-cloak, and appeared in morning-dress. +"Behold in me the Editor of an influential Journal!" + +A week later the Captain had sent in his papers, and every man in the +Company he had once commanded wore the stripe of a Lance Corporal. And +thus was the power of the Press once again sufficiently vindicated. + + * * * * * + +THE BATTLE OF THE BARDS; OR, THE LISTS FOR THE LAURELS. + +[Illustration] + +PROEM. + + _Tan-ta-ra-ra-ra-ra!_ The trumpets blare! + The rival Bards, wild-eyed, with windblown hair, + And close-hugged harps, advance with fire-winged feet + For the green Laureate Laurels to compete; + The laurels vacant from the brows of him + In whose fine light all lesser lustres dim. + Tourney of Troubadours! The laurels lie + On crimson velvet cushion couched on high, + Whilst _Punch_, Lord-Warden of his country's fame, + Attends the strains to hear, the victor-bard to name. + + And first advances, as by right supreme, + With frosted locks adrift, and eyes a-dream, + With quick short footfalls, and an arm a-swing, + As to some cosmic rhythm heard to ring + From Putney to Parnassus, a brief bard. + (In stature, _not_ in song!) Though passion-scarred, + Porphyrogenitus at least he looks; + Haughty as one who rivalry scarce brooks; + Unreminiscent now of youthful rage, + Almost "respectable," and well-nigh sage, + Dame GRUNDY owns her once redoubted foe, + Whose polished paganry's erotic flow, + And red anarchic wrath 'gainst priests, and kings, + The virtues, and most other "proper" things, + Once drew her frown where now her smile's bestowed. + Such is the power of timely palinode! + Soft twanged his lyre and loud his voice outrang, + As the first Bard this moving measure sang:-- + +ON THE BAYS. + +(_To the tune--more or less--of "In the Bay."_) + +I. + + Beyond the bellowing onset of base war, + Their latest wearer wendeth! With wild zest. + Fulfilled of windy resonance, the rest + Of the bard-mob must hotly joust and jar + To win the wreath that he beyond the bar + Bare not away athwart the bland sea's breast. + +II. + + And sooth the soft sheen of that deathless bay + Gleams glamorous! Amorous was I in my day, + Clamorous were Gath's goose-critics. But my fire, + Chastened from To-phet-fumes, burns purer, higher; + My thoughts on courtier-wings _might_ make their way + Did my brow bear the laurels all these desire. + +III. + + For I, to the proprieties reconciled. + Who hymned Dolores, sing the "weanling child." + At "home-made treacle" I made mocking mirth; + That was before my better self had birth. + At virtue's lilies and languors then I smiled, + But Hertha's _not_ thine only goddess, O Earth! + +IV. + + For surely brother, and master, and lord, and king, + Though vice's roses and raptures did not spring + In thy poetic garden's trim parterre; + Though thou wert fond of sunshine and sweet air, + More than of kisses, that burn, and bite, and sting; + Some living love our England for thee bare. + +V. + + Thou, too, couldst sing about her sweet salt sea, + And trumpet pæans loud to Liberty, + With clamour of all applausive throats. Thy feet, + Not wine-press red, yet left the flowers more sweet, + From the pure passage of the god to be; + And then couldst thunder praises of England's Fleet. + +VI. + + I did not think to glorify gods and kings, + Who scourged them ever with hate's sanguineous rods; + But who with hope and faith may live at odds? + And then these jingling jays with plume-plucked wings, + Compete, and laureate laurels _are_ lovely things, + Though crowing lyric lauders of kings and gods! + + Beshrew the blatant bleating of sheep-voiced mimes! + True thunder shall strike dumb their chirping chimes. + If there _be_ laureate laurels, or bays, or palms, + In these red, Radical, revelling, riotous times, + They should be the true bard's, though mid-age calms + His revolutionary fierce rolling rhymes, + Fulfilled with clamour and clangour and storm of--psalms + + That great lyre's golden echoes rolled away! + Forth tripped another claimant of the bay. + Trim, tittivated, tintinnabulant, + His bosom aped the true Parnassian pant, + As may a housemaid's leathern bellows mock + The rock--whelmed Titan's breathings. He no shock + Of bard-like shagginess shook to the breeze. + A modern Cambrian Minstrel hopes to please + By undishevelled dandy-daintiness, + Whether of lays or locks, of rhymes or dress. + Some bards pipe from Parnassus, some from Hermon; + Room for the singer of the Sunday Sermon! + His stimulant tepid tea, his theme a text, + Carmarthen's cultured caroller comes next! + +THE WORTH OF VERSE. + +AIR--"_The Birth of Verse_." + + Wild thoughts which occupy the brain, + Vague prophecies which fill the ear, + Dim perturbation, precious pain, + A gleam of hope, a chill of fear,-- + These vex the poet's spirit. Moral:-- + Have a shy at the Laureate Laurel! + + Some say no definite thought there is + In my full flatulence of sound. + Let National Observers quiz + (H-NL-Y won't have it. I'll be bound!) + Envy! _O trumpery, O MORRIS!_ + Could JUVENAL jealous be of HORACE? + + I know the chambers of my soul + Are filled with laudatory airs, + Such as the salaried bard should troll + When he the Laureate laurels wears. + And I am he who opened Hades, + To harmless parsons and to ladies! + + For I _can_ "moralise my song" + More palpably than Mr. POPE; + And I can touch the toiling throng: + There is small doubt of _that_, I hope. + I've piped for him who ploughs the furrows, + And stood for the Carmarthen Boroughs. + + I mayn't be strong, inspired, complete, + But on the Liberal goose I'm sound. + And I can count my (rhythmic) feet + With any Pegasus around. + I witch all women, and some men, + GLADSTONE I've drawn, and written "_Gwen_." + + If these be not sufficient claims, + The worth of Verse is vastly small. + I've called him various pretty names, + The honoured Master of us all; + "His place is with the Immortals." Yes! + But I could fill it _here_, I guess! + + His "chaste white Muse" could not object, + For mine is white, and awfully chaste. + Now ALGERNON has no respect + For purity and public taste. + EDWIN is given to allegory. + Whilst ALFRED is a wicked Tory!!! + + He ceased. Great PUNCHIUS rubbed his eagle beak. + And said, "I think we'll take the rest next week!" + + * * * * * + +[Illustration: _Experienced Sportsman_ (_on Pony_). "WELL--HAD GOOD +SPORT, FRED, OLD BOY?" + +_Inexperienced Fred_. "NOT EXACTLY 'GOOD,'--BUT I THINK I'VE LET OFF +ABOUT A HUNDRED CARTRIDGES." + +_Experienced Sportsman_. "NOT SO BAD. S'POSE YOU MUST HAVE 'LET OFF' +AN EQUAL NUMBER OF PARTRIDGES!"] + + * * * * * + +IN A GHOST-SHOW. + + _Warlock's "Celebrated Ghost-Exhibition and Deceptio Visus" + has pitched its tent for the night on a Village Green, and the + thrilling Drama of "Maria Martin, or, The Murder in the Red + Barn, in three long Acts, with unrivalled Spectral Effects and + Illusions," is about to begin. The Dramatis Personæ are on the + platform outside; the venerable Mr. MARTIN is exhorting the + crowd to step up and witness his domestic tragedy, while the + injured MARIA, is taking the twopences at the door; WILLIAM + CORDER is finishing a pipe, and two of the Angelic Visions + are dancing, in blue velveteen and silver braid, to the + appropriate air of "The Bogie Man."_ + +INSIDE. + + _The front benches are occupied by Rustic Youths, who beguile + the tedium of waiting by smoking short clays, and trying to + pull off one another's caps._ + +_First Youth_ (_examining the decorative Shakspearian panels on the +proscenium._) They three old wimmin be a-pokin' o' that old nipper, +'ooever he be. + + [_The "old nipper" in question is, of course, MACBETH._ + +_Second Youth._ Luk up at that 'un tother side--it's a Gineral's +gho-ast a-frightenin' th' undertaker (_A subject from "Hamlet"_) +They've gi'en over dancin' outside--they'll be beginning soon. (_The +company descend the steps, and pass behind the scenes._) We shall see +proper 'ere, we shall. + + [_The Curtain draws up, and reveals a small stage, with an + inclined sheet of glass in a heavy frame in front; behind this + glass is the Cottage Home of MARIA MARTIN._ + +_Maria_ (_coming out of Cottage, and speaking in an inaudible tone_). +At last--WILLIAM CORDER--to make me his wife--I know not why--strange +misgiving 'as come over me. + +[Illustration: "They catch one another's wrists, and walk up and down +together."] + + [_She is unfeelingly requested to speak up._ + +_William Corder_ (_whose villany is suggested at once by his wearing +a heavy silver double watch-chain, with two coins appended, and no +neck-tie--enters left_). Yes, MARIA, as I have promised, I will take +you to London, and make you my wife--but first meet me in disguise +to-night, and in secret, at the Red Barn. + + [_MARIA is understood to demur, but finally agrees to the + rendezvous, and retires into the Cottage. Old Mr. MARTIN + comes out in a black frock-coat, and a white waistcoat--he + has no neck-tie either, but the omission, in his case, merely + suggests a virtuous economy. He feebly objects to MARIA + being married in London, but admits that, "Perhaps he has no + right to interfere with WILLIAM's arrangements," and goes + indoors again. WILLIAM retires, and the scene changes to a + 'very small street, which is presently invaded by a very large + Comic Countryman, called "TIM," who is engaged to MARIA's + sister NANNY._ + +_Tim_. They tell I, as how the streets o' Lunnon be paved wi' gold, +and I be goin' 'oop to make ma fortune, I be. + + [_NANNY comes in and bribes him to remain by the promise of + "cold pudden with plenty of gravy." Comic business, during + which every reference to "cold pudden" (and there are several) + is received with roars of laughter. WILLIAM CORDER, on + the ingenious plea that he wishes to take some flowers up + to London, borrows a spade and pickaxe from TIM, to whom it + appears he owes ninepence, which he promises--like the villain + he is--to repay "the very next time he sees him in Church."_ + +_William_ (_going off with a flourish and a Shakspearian couplet_). + My _mind's_ made up. Hence _all_ thoughts _that_ are good! + Crimes _once_ commenced, _Must_. End in--blood! [_Act drop._ + +_A Female Spect._ They don't seem in no 'urry to come to th' Gho-ast +part, seemin'ly. + +_Her Swain._ Ye wudn't have 'em do th' Gho-ast afoor th' Murder, wud +ye? + + ACT II.--_The interior of the Red Barn. WILLIAM _discovered + digging MARIA's grave in his shirt-sleeves, and thereby + revealing that his shirt-front is as false as his heart. + He announces that "Nothing can shake him, now, from his + pre-determined purpose," and that "the grave gapes for its + coming victim."_ + + _Enter MARIA, disguised in a brown bowler hat and a very + tight suit of tweed "dittoes," in which she looks very like + the "Male Impersonator" at a Music-hall. The Audience receive + her with derision and the recommendation to go and get her + hair cut._ + +_Maria_. Here am I in disguise at the Red Barn. And yet something +seems to whisper to me that danger is near. WILLIAM, where, _where_ +are you? + +_William_ (_coming out of a corner_). 'Ere, MARIA, 'ere! (_Aside._) +Now to 'url my victim to an early grave! (_Aloud._) 'Ave you obeyed my +instructions and avoided notice? + +_Maria_. I have. Whenever I saw anyone approaching, I hid behind a +hedge and ducked in the ditch. + +_William_ (_with sombre approval_). That was most discreet on your +part, MARIA. No one saw you come in, and no one will ever see you go +out. Be'old your open grave! + + [_After some pleading from MARIA, a desperate struggle takes + place--that is, they catch one another's wrists, and walk up + and down together. MARIA calls upon her Mother's spirit, + whereupon a very youthful Angel is seen floating above the + couple._ + +_The Female S._ (_triumphantly_). Theer now--theer ain't bin no murder +yet, and theer's th' Gho-ast sure enough! + +_Swain_ (_who is not going to own that he is mistaken_). That ain't +naw Gho-ast! + +_Female S._ What is it, then? + +_Swain._ Why, it's the "De-cep-ti-o Vissus," as was wrote up outside. + + [_The Guardian Angel vanishes; WILLIAM _gets a spade, and + aims at MARIA, who takes it away, and strikes him; he is + then reduced to the pick-axe, but she wrests this from him + too, and hits him in the face with it. He pulls her coat off, + and her hair down--but she escapes from him a third time--on + which he snatches up a pistol, and fires it._ + +_William_ (_with unreasonable surprise_). Great Evans! What 'ave I +done? I, am become a _Murderer_! The shot 'as taken effect! See, +she staggers this way! (_Which MARIA does, to die comfortably in +WILLIAM's arms_.) I 'ave slain the only woman who ever truly loved +me; and I know not whether I loved her most while living, or hate her +most now she's dead! (_The Curtain falls, leaving WILLIAM with this +nice point still unsolved, and the Audience profoundly unmoved by the +tragedy, and evidently longing for more of the Comic Countryman._) + + ACT III.--_Interior of Old MARTIN's Cottage. He attempts to + forget his anxiety about his daughter--who he fears, with + only too much reason, has come to an untimely end--by going to + sleep in a highly uncomfortable position on a kitchen-chair. + The Murder is re-enacted in a vision, in dumb-show. The form + of MARIA appears in the tweed suit, and urges him to search + for her remains in the Red Barn._ + +_Old Martin_ (_awaking_). I have 'ad a fearful dream, and I am under +the impression that MARIA has been foully murdered in the Red Barn. + + [_He calls the Comic Countryman to help him "to commence + a thorough investigation"--which he does, in a spirit of + rollicking fun befitting the occasion, as the Scene changes to + the Red Barn._ + +_Old M._ (_finding the spade_). What's this? A spade--and, by its +appearance, it 'as recently been used, for there are marks of blood +upon it! I now begin to be afraid my dream will come true. + + [_Roars of laughter when the Comic C. discovers the body, and + implores it to "say summat!" Change of Scene. WILLIAM CORDER + discovered At Home, in a long perspective of pillars and + curtains, ending in a lawn and fountain._ + +_William_ (_moodily_). 'Tis now exactly twelve months since MARIA +MARTIN was done to death by these 'ands. Since then, I have married a +young, rich, and beautiful wife--and yet I am not 'appy. + + [_Enter Old MARTIN, who, by the simple method of changing + his hat and coat, has now become a Bow-street Officer; he puts + questions to WILLIAM, who at once betrays himself, and has + to be searched. As a pair of pistols exactly resembling one + that was left in the Red Barn, are found in his coat-tail + pockets; his guilt is conclusively proved, and he is led away. + The next Scene shows him in the Condemned Cell, resolving to + sleep away his few remaining hours on a kitchen-chair. He has + a vision of MARIA in tweeds, who exhorts him to repent_. + Old MARTIN, _who is now either the Governor of the Gaol or the + Hangman, enters to conduct him to the scaffold, and on the way + he is met--to the joy of the Audience--by the Comic, C., + who duns him for the ninepence. WILLIAM shakes his head + solemnly, points to the skies, and passes on. The Comic C. + then goes to sleep in a chair and has a vision on his own + account, in which he beholds the apotheosis of MARIA--still + in the suit of dittoes--and piloted by a couple of obviously + overweighted Angels; and also the last moments of WILLIAM + CORDER, who, as he stands under an enlarged "Punch" + gibbet, pronounces the following impressive farewell before + disappearing through a trap._ + + Ye Youth, be warned by my Despair! + Avoid bad women, false as they are fair. (_This is just a little + hard on poor MARIA by-the-way._) + Be wise in time, if you would shun my fate, + For oh! how wretched is the man who's wise too late! + + [_And with this the Drama comes to an end, and the Comic + Countryman begs the Audience to give the performance a good + word to their friends outside._ + + * * * * * + +BETWEEN THE ACTS; OR, THE DRAMA IN LIQUOR. + + SCENE--_Refreshment Saloon at a London Theatre. A three-play + bill forms the evening's entertainment. First Act over. Enter + BROWN, JONES, and ROBINSON._ + +_Brown_. Well, really a very pleasant little piece. Quite amusing. +Yes; I think I will have a cup of coffee or a glass of lemonade. Too +soon after dinner for anything stronger. + +_Jones_. Yes, and really, after laughing so much, one gets a thirst +for what they call light refreshments. I will have some ginger-beer. + +_Robinson_. Well, I think I will stick to iced-water. You know the +Americans are very fond of that. They always take it at meal-times, +and really after that capital _équivoque_ one feels quite satisfied. +(_They are served by the Bar Attendant._) That was really very funny, +where he hides behind the door when she is not looking. + + [_Laughs at the recollection._ + +_Brown_. And when the uncle sits down upon the band-box and crushes +the canary-cage! [_Chuckles._ + +_Jones_. Most clever. But there goes the bell, and the Curtain will +be up directly. Rather clever, I am told. The _Rose of Rouen_--it +is founded on the life of _Joan of Arc_. I am rather fond of these +historical studies. + +_Brown_. So am I. They are very interesting. + +_Robinson_. Do you think so? Well, so far as I am concerned, I +prefer Melodrama. Judging from the title, _The Gory Hand_ should be +uncommonly good. + + [_Exeunt into Theatre. After a pause they return to the + Refreshment Room._ + +_Brown_. Well, it is very clever; but I confess it beats me. (_To Bar +Attendant._) We will all take soda-water. No, thanks, quite neat, and +for these gentlemen too. + +_Jones_. Well, I call it a most excellent psychological study. +However, wants a clear head to understand it. (_Sips his soda-water._) +I don't see how she can take the flag from the Bishop, and yet want to +marry the Englishman. + +_Robinson_. Ah, but that was before the vision. If you think it over +carefully, you will see it was natural enough. Of course, you +must allow for the spirit of the period, and other surrounding +circumstances. + +_Brown_. Are you going to stay for _The Gory Hand_? + +_Jones_. Not I. I am tired of play-acting, and think we have had +enough of it. + +_Robinson_. Well, I think I shall look in. I am rather fond of strong +scenes, and it should be good, to judge from the programme. + +_Jones_. Well, we will "sit out." It's rather gruesome. Quite +different from the other plays. + +_Robinson_. Well, I don't mind horrors--in fact, like them. There goes +the bell. So I am off. Wait until I come back. + +_Brown_. That depends how long you are away. Ta, ta! + + [_Exit ROBINSON._ + +_Jones_. Now, how a fellow can enjoy a piece like that, I cannot +understand. It is full of murders, from the rise to the fall of the +Curtain. + +_Brown_. Yes--but ROBINSON likes that sort of thing. You will see +by-and-by how the plot will affect him. It is rather jumpy, especially +at the end, when the severed head tells the story of the murder to the +assistant executioner. I would not see it again on any account. + +_Jones_. No--it sent my Maiden Aunt in hysterics. However, it has the +merit of being short. (_Applause._) Ah, there it's over! Let's see +how ROBINSON likes it. That _tableau_ at the end, of the +starving-coastguardsman expiring under the rack, is perfectly awful! +(_Enter ROBINSON, staggering in._) Why, my boy, what's the matter? + +_Brown_. You do look scared! Have something to drink? That will set it +all to-rights! + +_Robinson_ (_with his eyes protruding from his head, from horror_). +Here, help! help! (_After a long shudder._) Brandy! Brandy I: Brandy! + + [_At all the places at the bar there is a general demand for + alcohol._ + +_Brown_. Yes. IRVING was right; soda-water does very well for +SHAKSPEARE's histories, but when you come to a piece like _The Bells_, +you require supporting. [_Curtain and moral._ + + * * * * * + +"IN A WINTER (COVENT) GARDEN." + +That indefatigable Showman, Sir DRURIOLANUS, the Invincible Knight, +commenced his Winter Operatic Season on Monday, the Tenth, at Covent +Garden, so as to be well in advance of Signor LAGO, who may now boast +of having _La Donna_, Her Most Gracious MAJESTY, for his patron. + +_Monday Night_.--The two RAVOGLIS in good form in the _Orféo._ +Likewise the Player of the Big Drum made more than one big hit during +the evening. "_Che farò_" was re-demanded. "Tired of '_Faro_,'" quoth +Mr. WAGGSTAFF--"why not make it '_Whisto_,' or some other game?" +_Exit_ WAGGY. The _Intermezzo_ of _Cavalleria Rusticana_ of course +encored enthusiastically. "Signor CREMONNINI," quoth WAGG, returning, +"is not half the 'ninny' his name implies." And, indeed, from the +moment he was heard singing "in his ambush" (as the Irish boy in the +Gallery said of TOM HOHLER at the Dublin Theatre when he heard the +_Trovatore's_ voice behind the scenes) before the rise of the Curtain, +everyone said, "This is the tenner for our money." + +[Illustration: OPERATIC TACTICS. + +_Sir Druriolanus_. "I Say, Bevignani, I think we've got the right +pitch, eh?"] + +_Tuesday_.--The namesake of our own GEORGE AUGUSTUS, Mlle. ROSITA +SALA, made a real hit as _Leonora_ in _Il Trovatore_. "Handsome is as +handsome does," and Mlle. SALA didn't act as "handsome" as she looked. +Another "ninny" played to-night, namely GIANNINNI, all right vocally, +but not much dramatically. "_Il Balen_" was encored when sung by a +manly baritone with the feminine name of ANNA; i.e., Signor DE ANNA. +He might advantageously alter DE-ANNA to APOLLO, that is if he could +be sure of looking the part. + +_Wednesday_.--_Lohengrin_. MELBA as _Elsa_. WAGGSTAFF tried to make +his usual pun on the name of _Ortruda_, but was "countered" by Young +JUMPER who protested that he had heard it before and never wanted to +hear it again. "I know what you're going to say," he exclaimed; "it's +something about '_aught ruder_!' I know!" "I've no doubt you do," +returned the defrauded WAGGY, sarcastically, "for you're uncommonly +like _Othello_, 'Rude am I in speech'--only," added WAGGSTAFF, "_he_ +apologised for it." Young JUMPER sniggered, his friends laughed, and +the incident terminated. The Chorus seemed to have become Wandering +Minstrels, so very uncertain were they. + +Altogether, Sir DRURIOLANUS OPERATICUS, with his successful Drury Lane +Race-course, his Provincial Theatre, his Italian Opera, his Paper (not +_in_ the House, but his weekly one out of it), his Music-of-the-Future +Hall, for which a temporary and limited licence has been granted, +will--in a general-dealer kind of way--be having a good time of it +till Pantomime Season slaps him on the back with a cheery "Here we are +again!" and then he will have another and a better time. No doubt of +Sir Gus's success, or in abbreviated proverbial Latin, "_De Gus. non +disputandum_." + + * * * * * + +[Illustration: THE HEIGHT OF EXCLUSIVENESS. + +_Miss Prunes._ "AH, DOCTOR, THESE HIGH SCHOOLS ARE SADLY MIXED! BUT, +UNDER _MY_ CARE, I CAN ASSURE YOU THAT YOUR LITTLE WARD WILL ASSOCIATE +WITH DAUGHTERS OF _GENTLEMEN ONLY_!" + +_The Doctor._ "THAT, MADAM, IS TO BE SELECT INDEED; SINCE I BELIEVE +PALLAS ATHENE ALONE FULFILLED SUCH A CONDITION." + +(For pedigree of Pallas Athene vide Classical Dictionary--Art. +"Minerva.")] + + * * * * * + +COLUMBUS. + +[Illustration] + + COLUMBUS! We read of him every day, + In books, pamphlets, magazines, papers; + Whilst Italy, Portugal, Spain, U.S.A., + Cut constant, consecutive capers. + + They started last month with reviews on the main; + On the land with processions--a quaint row. + Such the fêtes, aptly called by the French "_Fêtes de Gènes_," + _Fait accompli_, good luck, _ça nous gêne trop!_ + + But never say die; now Huelva goes on, + New York follows, steady and sober, + And Chicago makes ready for more derned, dog gone + _Fêtes_ to last till, at least, next October! + + COLUMBUS, your search for a sort of New Cut + Was meant for the best, we don't doubt it; + No harm in discovering Continents, but + You might have said nothing about it. + + Still, had you not found a location for clam, + Canvas back, buckwheat cakes, we should sorter + Have missed the acquaintance of 'cute Uncle SAM, + And his fearless, free, fragile, fair daughter. + + COLUMBUS! The newspapers never will drop + This subject; we wish, as months roll on, + Some common bacillus had put a full stop + Long ago to Don CHRISTOBAL COLON! + + * * * * * + +"ANECDOTAGE." + +_COMPANION PARAGRAPHS TO STORIES OF THE SAME KIND._ + +SIR WALTER SCOTT was never so well pleased as when meeting a brother +author. One day he passed by a gauger, who was so careless in +his duties that the author of _Waverley_ was able to smuggle into +Edinburgh some whiskey that was supposed never to have paid duty. On +reaching Abbotsford, "the Wizard of the North" was informed that he +had met one of the greatest poets of North Britain. "So I suspected," +he replied. "It must have been BURNS." Sir WALTER was right--it _was_ +BURNS. + + * * * * * + +PITT, the younger, and FOX were both fond of port wine, and lost +no opportunity of indulging in their favourite beverage. Meeting at +CROCKFORD's one evening, PITT (being in straitened circumstances) +proposed that they should play for a bottle of sherry. "No," said +FOX, "if I must lose, I will lose in Claret!" and the rival Statesmen +succumbed to intoxication. + + * * * * * + +WILBERFORCE, the well-known philanthropist, was accustomed to visit +the prisons. At Newgate one day he met a well-known forger, and asked +him "What he was in for?" "For the same reason that you are out," was +the smart, but uncourteous reply. + + * * * * * + +NEW REGULATIONS FOR THE ENGLISH POLICE. + +(_FREELY ADAPTED FROM THE IRISH RULES._) + +[Illustration] + +1. Constables who are required to interfere in a street-row must have +fourteen days' notice before they can be expected on the spot of the +disturbance. + +2. Policemen will parade the streets from 12 A.M. to 4 P.M., but will +make themselves scarce in the event of meeting a party procession, or +noticing the holding of a public demonstration. + +3. Hyde Park, Trafalgar Square, and all other fashionable +trysting-places, shall be considered without the sphere of Police +influence at times of political excitement. + +4. Constables shall not congregate on land set apart for workmen's +gatherings, except to organise strikes amongst themselves. + +5. The labours of the Police shall not commence before sunrise, or +continue after sunset; and it will be left to the sagacity of +the Public to guard their own property during the hours that the +Constables are off duty. + +6. In the absence of the Civil Power, it will be considered contrary +to professional etiquette for any respectable member of the criminal +classes to carry on his unimpeded vocation. + + * * * * * + +[Illustration: THE WHITE ELEPHANT. + +PRESENT PROPRIETOR (_loq._). "SEE HERE, GOVERNOR! HE'S A +LIKELY-LOOKING ANIMAL,--BUT _I_ CAN'T MANAGE HIM! IF _YOU_ WON'T TAKE +HIM, I MUST LET HIM GO!!"] + + * * * * * + +THE GREAT UNKNOWN. + + [The Rev. Dr. SMYTHE PALMER, of Trinity College, Dublin, + has just compiled a Book of Extracts, entitled _The Perfect + Gentleman_.] + +A Gentleman must be liberal, not to say lavish, to servants, porters, +gamekeepers, and others, or he is "no gent." At the same time the +Perfect Gentleman is never extravagant. + +He must not work. At the same time he must not be an idler. + +He is known by his scrupulous attention to the minutiæ of personal +appearance, while "despising all outside show." + +The Perfect Gentleman "never wilfully hurts anybody." No soldier, +doctor, or schoolmaster can, therefore, ever be a P.G. + +He is always perfectly open and frank. He is also sufficiently artful +to conceal the fact that he considers the person he is talking to a +mixture of a snob and a blockhead. + +When his favourite corn is trodden on by a weighty stranger, he never +utters any expression stronger than "Dear me!" + +He never loses his temper. + +He must know how to treat everyone according to their rank and +situation in life, but show special courtesy to those who are his +inferiors. + +He must be well-born, although there are plenty of "Nature's +Gentlemen" in the ranks of day-labourers. + +He must be sufficiently wealthy to keep up a good position, while +recognising the fact that money has nothing to do with true gentility. + +He should also try and remember that no such jumble of contradictions +as the Perfect Gentleman ever existed. + + * * * * * + +[Illustration: HIS BEST "SOOT." + +_Short-tempered Gentleman in Black_ (_after violent collision with a +Stonemason fresh from work_). "NOW, I'LL ARSK YOU JEST TO LOOK AT THE +NARSTY BEASTLY MESS AS YOU'VE GONE AND MIDE ME IN! WHY, I'M SIMPLY +SMOTHERED IN SOME 'ORRID WHITE STUFF!! WHY DON'T YER BE MORE +CAREFUL!!!"] + + * * * * * + +EPIGRAMMATICALLY PUT.--An Asylums Board Manager wrote to the _Times_ +to complain of Mr. LITTLER, M.P., Q.C.'s charges against the Asylums +and Fever Hospitals management. "Which is right, or which is wrong," +to paraphrase _Mr. Mantalini's_ words, is no business just now of +ours, but the writer of the reply to the attack, might have summed up +by saying "that to _him_, Mr. LITTLER, whatever his Christian names +might be, appeared as a _Be-Littler_." + + * * * * * + +"MR. GLADSTONE ON RENTS IN WALES."--What the Right Honble. Mr. +G. omitted to say, when speaking on this subject, was that "but +a comparatively small rent in Wales would be produced by +Disestablishment, whenever that event should happen, and that this +would soon be mended." + + * * * * * + +TEMPERANCE RIDDLE.--Why is a man who is thoroughly good-natured and +ever ready to oblige, likely to end as a confirmed drunkard? Because +he is always _willing_. + + * * * * * + +A USEFUL EXPERIENCE. + + I awoke at one in the morning, + I had been two hours in bed, + When--bang!--without any warning + A joke came into my head. + 'Twas brilliant, awfully funny, + It flashed through my drowsy brain, + It was worth--oh, a lot of money!-- + I chuckled again and again. + + I thought how I might employ it, + I laughed till the tears rolled down, + Foreseeing how SMITH would enjoy it, + And how it would tickle BROWN. + I said, "I had best but hint it + To _them_, or they might purloin + This wonderful jest, then print it, + And between them divide the coin." + + Late in the morn I awoke,--I + Puzzled with all my might + In vain to recall the joke I + Made in the silent night. + What _was_ it about? No dreamer + Am I! No--I think--I frown-- + When next I make a screamer + In bed--_I will write it down_. + + By the side of the bed a taper + Shall ever with matches be, + A pencil and piece of paper, + To note what occurs to me. + * * * * * + Since then I have tried, but the late joke, + As seen in my bedside scrawl, + Is always so poor,--that the great joke, + _I'm sure, was no joke at all!_ + + * * * * * + +YES OR NO? + + ["The hand-writing of well-educated Ladies is often + disgracefully illegible."--_A Ladies' Journal_.] + + Oh, never did lover in fable + In such a predicament stand, + A letter I wrote to my MABEL, + To ask for her heart and her hand, + With compliments worded so nicely, + A lifelong devotion I swore; + She's answered--and left me precisely + As wise as before! + + It is true that I begged, when inditing + My note, a reply with all speed, + And MABEL, to judge from the writing, + Fulfilled my petition indeed! + The drift of this scrawl, so erratic, + I am wholly unable to guess-- + It may be refusal emphatic, + Or can it be "Yes"? + + "Affection" she'll feel for me "ever," + But stay--if that blot is an "_n_" + It turns it at once into "never," + Or is it a slip of the pen? + Her heart will a "truant (or true?) be," + And what is the word just above? + It looks like--it cannot be--"booby"! + Perhaps it is "love." + + A meeting must needs be awaited + To render these mysteries plain; + Perhaps in this letter she's stated + She never will see me again; + On one thing at least I've decided;-- + Should she be my partner for life, + A type-writer shall be provided + For the use of my wife! + + * * * * * + +THE GERMAN AND HORSE-TRYING RIDE. + + ["Most of the horses were standing, but propping themselves + up against a wall or a post."--_Standard, Wednesday, October + 12th_.] + + Pity the sorrows of a worn-out horse, + Whose trembling limbs support him 'gainst a wall; + Who asks you,--fearing future trials worse-- + To kill him with a sudden shot,--that's all. + + * * * * * + +A CORRESPONDENT signing "INNOCENTIA DOCET," wants to know if "the Hub +of the Universe" is an official appointment that can only be held by a +Mahommedan or a Mormon? + + * * * * * + +CONVERSATIONAL HINTS TO YOUNG SHOOTERS. + +(_BY MR. PUNCH'S OWN GROUSE IN THE GUN-ROOM._) + +And, next, my gallant young Sportsmen, just sharpen up your attention, +and, if you have ears, prepare to lend them now. Be, in fact, +all ears. At any rate, get yourselves as near as possible to that +desirable condition, for we are going to discuss shooting-lunches, and +all that pertains to them. Think of it! Are not some of your happiest +memories, and your most delightful anticipations, bound up with +the mid-day meal, at which the anxieties and disappointments of the +morning, the birds you missed, the birds that, though they got up in +front of you, were shot by your jealous neighbour, the wiped-eyes, +the hands torn in the thorn-bushes, at which, as I say, all these +are forgotten, when you lay aside your gun, and sit down to your +short repose. Then it is that the talker shines supreme. All the +conversation which may have been broken in upon during the morning by +the necessity for posting yourself at the hot corner, or the grassy +ride, or in the butt, or for polishing off a right and left of +partridges, can then flow free and uninterrupted. Ah, happy moments, +when the bad shot becomes as the good, and all distinctions are +levelled! How well, how gratefully do I remember you! Still, in my +waking fancies, there rises to my nose a savoury odour, telling of +stew or hot-pot, and still the crisp succulence of the jam tartlet +has honour in my memory. Ah, _tempi passati, tempi passati_! But away, +fancy, and to our work, which is to speak of + +SHOOTING-LUNCHES + +in their relation to talk:-- + +(1.) Be extremely careful, unless you know exactly the ways of your +host with regard to his shooting-lunch, not to express to him before +lunch any very definite opinion as to what the best kind of lunch +is. If, for instance, you rashly declare that, for your own part, you +detest a solemn sit-down-in-a-farmhouse lunch, and that your ideal +is a sandwich, a biscuit and a nip out of a flask, and if you then +find yourself lunching off three courses at a comfortable table, why +you'll be in a bit of a hole. Consistency would prompt you to abstain, +appetite urges you to eat. What is a poor talker to do? Obviously, he +must get out somehow. Here is a suggested method. Begin by admiring +the room. + +"By Jove, what a jolly little room this is. It's as spick and span as +a model dairy. I wish you'd take me on as your tenant, CHALMERS, when +you've got a vacancy." + +CHALMERS will say, "It's not a bad little hole. Old Mrs. NUBBLES keeps +things wonderfully spruce. This is one of the cottages I built five +years ago." + +There's your first move. Your next is as follows. Every rustic-cottage +contains gruesome china-ornaments and excruciating-cheap German-prints +of such subjects as "_The Tryst_" (always spelt "_The Trist_" on +the German print), "_The Saylor's Return," "The Warior's Dreem_," +"_Napoleon at Arcola_," and so forth. Point to a china-ornament and +say, "I never knew cows in this part of the country were blue and +green." Then after you've exhausted the cow, milked her dry, so to +speak, you can take a turn at the engravings, and make a sly hit at +the taste in art generated by modern education. Hereupon, someone is +dead certain to chime in with the veteran grumble about farmers who +educate their children above their station by allowing their daughters +to learn to play the piano, and their sons to acquire the rudiments +of Latin: "Give you my word of honour, the farmers' daughters about +my uncle's place, get their dresses made by my aunt's dressmaker, and +thump out old WAGNER all day long." This horrible picture of rural +depravity will cause an animated discussion. When it is over, you can +say, "This is the very best Irish-stew I've ever tasted. I must get +your cook to give me the receipt." + +"Ah, my boy," says CHALMERS, "you'll find there's nothing like a stew +out shooting." + +"Of course," you say, "nothing can beat it, if you've got a nice room +to eat it in, and aren't pressed for time; but, if you've got no end +of ground to cover, and not much time to do it in, I can always manage +to do myself on a scrap of anything handy. Thanks, I don't mind if I +do have a chunk of cake, and a whitewash of sherry." + +Thus you have fetched a compass--I fancy the phrase is correct--and +have wiped out the memory of your indiscretion. Of course the thing +may happen the other way round. You may have expressed a preference +for solid lunches, only to find yourself set down on a tuft of grass, +with a beef sandwich and a digestive biscuit. In that case you can +begin by declaring your delight in an open-air meal, go on to admire +the scenery, and end by expressing a certain amount of judicious +contempt for the Sybarite who cannot tear himself away from effeminate +luxuries, and the trick's done. + +But this subject is so great, and has so many varieties, that we must +recur to it in our next. + + * * * * * + +[Illustration: IN THE RUE DE LA PAIX. + +_Hairdresser_. "SAY THEN, SARE ZAT YOU ARE RASÉ--SHAVE,--IS IT THAT I +SHALL CUT YOU OFF YOUR 'AIR?" + +_Mr. Brown_ (_an old-fashioned Englishman, on his first Visit +to Paris--startled_). "HEY! WHAT! CUT MY HAIR OFF! NONG, +MOSSOO--COMPRENNY?--NONG! DO YOU THINK I WANT TO LOOK LIKE ONE OF YOUR +FRENCH POODLES?"] + + * * * * * + +TO OUR GUERNSEY CORRESPONDENTS. + +MR. PUNCH is sorry to find that his fancy sketch of a Guernsey Car +drive has been taken so seriously in some quarters as to give pain and +offence which were very far from being intended. He begs to assure the +honourable fraternity of Car-proprietors and drivers in the island, +that he did _not_ mean to suggest for a moment that there was the +slightest real danger to the public who patronise those highly popular +and excellently-conducted vehicles, or that any actual driver was +either intemperate or incompetent; and that, should such an impression +have been unfortunately produced--which he hopes is impossible--no one +would regret so unjust an aspersion more sincerely than _Mr. Punch_ +himself. + + * * * * * + +[Illustration: THE GOLFER'S DREAM.] + + * * * * * + +LADY GAY'S SELECTIONS. + +_Mount Street, Grosvenor Square._ + +DEAR MR. PUNCH,--Your marvellous judgment in the selection of your +"staff"--(I believe that is the correct term to use in speaking +of those who write for the paper, though as a rule a staff is +_wooden-headed_, which I am sure none of your contributors are!--I +can answer for _one_!)--has again placed you in the position +envied of all Journals, viz.,--(_why_ do people put "viz.," and +not "namely"?--it _is_ silly!) that of affording "information" +given by no other Journal! All of which preamble means,--(by +the way, why "pre-_amble_"?--if one is a speedy writer, why not +"pre-_canter_"?)--that _Punch_, in the person of LADY GAY--(that _may_ +seem a little mixed, but it isn't)--was the _only_ Sporting Paper +which tipped the winner of the Cesarewitch! + +For confirmation of this I refer the sceptical to my last week's +letter, in which I stated that in dreaming of the race I dreamt that +"_Burnaby came to the rescue_"--and if this is not giving the winner, +I should like to know what is! It is true I made _Brandy_ my "verse +selection," but that would only mislead the people who go no further +than the surface (not of the brandy), as anyone who gave the matter a +moment's thought would realise that Brandy is always applied _after_ +a rescue! I hear there was a "ton of money" for the winner just before +the start, but I did not see anyone carrying it about, so I suppose it +was what they call "covering money," which, I presume, is covered over +for safety, as it would be risky to walk about a race-course with a +ton of loose money--not that I suppose anyone who goes racing would +touch it, but it _might_ be lost! Anyhow, there was a ton of money +for the winner _after_ the race, which his owner _had_ to take, +willy-nilly, or HOBSON's choice! + +The pleasantest feature of the meeting, however, was the re-appearance +of H.R.H. the Prince of WALES, which was also pleasantly marked by one +of his horses winning a race! The Public having anxiously "watched" +for H.R.H., the success of _The Vigil_ was received with enthusiasm! + +Next week takes us to Gatwick and Sandown--(or rather the _train_ +takes us--another absurd expression)--the last day of the latter +Meeting being devoted to "Jumping Races," which is the contemptuous +way some people speak of the winter branch of our National +Sport!--forgetting that it demands the two most desirable qualities +in a horse, _speed and endurance_--whereas the modern flat-racing +has degenerated, for the most part, into scrambles and gambles, where +_speed_ is the only requisite!--but more of this anon--but _not_ +anonymous, as I believe in signed articles, as the apprentice said! +(_Not_ BRADFORD!) + +The most important race at Gatwick--(_delightful_ place to go +racing--lots of room to move about in)--is the Thousand Pound +Handicap, in which race _Brandy_ is worth keeping an eye on, as she +ought to beat _Burnaby_ at the difference in the weights--other horses +that might make their mark during the week--(especially now the ground +is soft)--are, _Pilot, Golden Garter_--(_I_ never was guilty of +such extravagance as that)--_Queen of Navarre_--(_she_ might have +been)--_Meadow Brown_, _Terror_, and _Seawall_, the last three in the +"Jumping Races"--and, in conclusion, the inevitable rhythmical winner, +from + +Yours devotedly, LADY GAY. + +ORLEANS NURSERY SELECTION. + + The man who would back any other + Appears but a gander to be, + For the horse that all comers will smother + Is certainly _Tanderagee_! + + * * * * * + +[Illustration: DIGNITY AND IMPUDENCE. + +"I SAY, GUV'NER! WHEN ARE YOU GOING TO BE TOOK DOWN FOR HALTERATIONS +AND REPAIRS?"] + + * * * * * + +MY SEASON TICKET. + + Ever against my breast, + Safe in my pocket pressed, + Ready at my behest, + Daintily pretty + Gilt-printed piece of leather, + Though fair or foul the weather, + Daily we go together + Up to the City. + Yet, as I ride at ease, + Papers strewn on my knees, + And I hear "Seasons, please!" + Shouted in warning: + Pockets I search in vain + All through and through again; + "Pray do not stop the train-- + Lost it this morning. + No, I have not a card, + Nor can I pay you, Guard-- + Truly my lot is hard, + This is the reason, + Now I recall to mind + Changing my clothes, I find + I left them all behind,-- + Money, cards, 'Season.'" + + * * * * * + +WRITTEN A HUNDRED YEARS HENCE. + +(_FROM A COLLECTION OF COMMUNICATIONS SUPPLIED BY OUR PROPHETIC +COMPILER._) + +DEAR MR. PUNCH,--Pray protect the Griffin! Those Goths and Vandals, +the Members of the Corporation of the City of London, will remove it, +unless you intervene. This beautiful work of Art, that stands on the +supposed site of the mythical Temple Bar, is to come down. What would +our ancestors say if they were here? Would they not frown at their +degenerate descendants? Every student of history knows that this +Griffin was put up by universal consent, and considered one of the +finest works of art of the nineteenth century. As, indeed, it was. +It is full of historic memories. It was here that WELLINGTON met +NAPOLEON after Waterloo; and here, again, was the Volunteer Movement +inaugurated, when Mr. Alderman WAT TYLER, putting himself at the +head of the citizens, called for "Three cheers for the Charter and +the Anti-Corn-Law League!" The beautiful bas-reliefs that used to +represent the occasions have disappeared, but their subjects are +tenderly cherished. If the Corporation _must_ pull down something, let +them destroy the recently-erected Mansion House! but spare, oh spare, +the Griffin! + +Yours truly, A STUDENT OF THE LORE OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY. + +_The Palace, Brixton_. + +DEAR MR. PUNCH,--It is time for a protest! One of the most beautiful +erections of the nineteenth century (the old South Kensington Railway +Station of the District Railway) is to be removed! Instead of the +picturesque iron roof, we are to have some abomination in stone! Can +this be? It is said to be falling to pieces under the ravages of Time. +If this be really the case, why not let it be restored? There was no +more picturesque outcome from the nineteenth century than these pretty +arrangements in metal. The last generation swept them away by scores, +by hundreds, by thousands--they did not even spare the Brompton +Boilers! Let not such a reproach be applicable to us. We pride +ourselves upon our love of Art and veneration for the antique and the +beautiful, and yet we would pull down a building that for a century +has been the admiration of all with a soul for Art and a mind for +appreciating the sublimest efforts of genius in its highest sense! +This must not be. + +_Burlington House_, + +Yours truly, A ROYAL ACADEMICIAN. + +_From_ 1 _to_ 1000, _Piccadilly._ + +DEAR MR. PUNCH,--I have had the advantage of reading the above letters +before publication, and am of opinion that they are not one whit +more nonsensical than letters about the _Foudroyant_ and the Emmanuel +Hospital that were printed early in the nineties. You may make what +use you please of this communication. + +Yours respectfully, THE SPIRIT OF THE PAST. + +_The Earth (Branch Establishment, Mars and Jupiter)._ + + * * * * * + +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. 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