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diff --git a/15594-h/15594-h.htm b/15594-h/15594-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..9f742d9 --- /dev/null +++ b/15594-h/15594-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,2595 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Transitional//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-transitional.dtd"> +<html> +<head> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=ISO-8859-1" /> +<title>The Project Gutenberg eBook of Punch, or the London Charivari, Vol. 103, October 22, 1892, by Various</title> + <style type="text/css"> + /*<![CDATA[*/ + + <!-- + body {margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + p {text-align: justify;} + blockquote {text-align: justify;} + h1,h2,h3,h4,h5,h6 {text-align: center;} + pre {font-size: 0.7em;} + .sc {font-variant: small-caps;} + + hr {text-align: center; width: 50%;} + html>body hr {margin-right: 25%; margin-left: 25%; width: 50%;} + hr.full {width: 100%;} + html>body hr.full {margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 0%; width: 100%;} + hr.short {text-align: center; width: 20%;} + html>body hr.short {margin-right: 40%; margin-left: 40%; width: 20%;} + + .note, .footnote {margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-size: 0.9em;} + + span.pagenum + {position: absolute; left: 1%; right: 91%; font-size: 8pt; text-indent: 0;} + + .poem + {margin-left:10%; margin-right:10%; margin-bottom: 1em; text-align: left;} + .poem .stanza {margin: 1em 0em 1em 0em;} + .poem p {margin: 0; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + .poem p.i2 {margin-left: 1em;} + .poem p.i4 {margin-left: 2em;} + .poem p.i6 {margin-left: 3em;} + .poem p.i8 {margin-left: 4em;} + .poem p.i10 {margin-left: 5em;} + + .drama {margin-bottom: 1em; text-align: left;} + .drama p {margin: 1em 0em 0em 0em;; padding-left: 2em; text-indent: -2em;} + .drama p.i2 {margin: 0; margin-left: 1em;} + .drama p.i4 {margin: 0; margin-left: 2em;} + .drama p.i6 {margin: 0; margin-left: 3em;} + .drama p.i8 {margin: 0; margin-left: 4em;} + .drama p.i10 {margin: 0; margin-left: 5em;} + + .figure, .figcenter, .figright, .figleft + {padding: 1em; margin: 0; text-align: center; font-size: 0.8em;} + .figure img, .figcenter img, .figright img, .figleft img + {border: none;} + .figure p, .figcenter p, .figright p, .figleft p + {margin: 0; text-indent: 1em;} + .figcenter {margin: auto;} + .figright {float: right;} + .figleft {float: left;} + + p.author {text-align: right;} + --> + /*]]>*/ + </style> +</head> +<body> +<h1>The Project Gutenberg eBook, Punch, or the London Charivari, Vol. 103, +October 22, 1892, by Various, Edited by F. C. Burnand</h1> +<pre> +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at <a href = "https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a></pre> +<p>Title: Punch, or the London Charivari, Vol. 103, October 22, 1892</p> +<p>Author: Various</p> +<p>Release Date: April 9, 2005 [eBook #15594]</p> +<p>Language: English</p> +<p>Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1</p> +<p>***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI, VOL. 103, OCTOBER 22, 1892***</p> +<br /><br /><h3>E-text prepared by Malcolm Farmer, William Flis,<br /> + and the Project Gutenberg Online Distributed Proofreading Team</h3><br /><br /> +<hr class="full" /> + <h1>PUNCH,<br /> + OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.</h1> + + <h2>Vol. 103.</h2> + <hr class="full" /> + + <h2>October 22, 1892.</h2> + <hr class="full" /> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page181" + id="page181"></a>[pg 181]</span> + + <h3>IN MEMORIAM.</h3> + + <h2>William Hardwick Bradbury.</h2> + + <h3 class="sc">Born, Dec. 3, 1832. Died, Oct. 13, 1892.</h3> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Large-hearted man, most loyal friend,</p> + + <p class="i2">Art thou too gone—too early + lost?</p> + + <p class="i2">Our comrade true, our tireless host!</p> + + <p>Prompt to inspire, console, defend!</p> + + <p>Gone! Hearts with grateful memories stored</p> + + <p>Ache for thy loss round the old board.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>The well-loved board <i>he</i> loved so well,</p> + + <p class="i2">His pride, his care, his ceaseless + thought;</p> + + <p class="i2">To him with life-long memories + fraught;</p> + + <p>For him invested with the spell</p> + + <p>O'er a glad present ever cast</p> + + <p>By solemn shadows of the past.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>That past for him, indeed, was filled</p> + + <p class="i2">With a proud spirit-retinue.</p> + + <p class="i2">Greatness long since his guest he + knew.</p> + + <p>Whom THACKERAY's manly tones had thrilled;</p> + + <p>Who heard keen JERROLD's sparkling speech,</p> + + <p>And marked the genial grace of LEECH.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>What changes had he known, who sat</p> + + <p class="i2">With our four chiefs, of each fast + friend!</p> + + <p class="i2">And must such <i>camaraderie</i> end?</p> + + <p>Shall friendly counsel, cordial chat,</p> + + <p>Come nevermore again to us</p> + + <p>From lips with kindness tremulous?</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>No more shall those blue eyes ray out</p> + + <p class="i2">Swift sympathy, or sudden mirth;</p> + + <p class="i2">That ever mobile mouth give birth</p> + + <p>To frolic whim, or friendly flout?</p> + + <p>Our hearts will miss thee to the end,</p> + + <p>Amphitryon generous, faithful friend!</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Miss thee? Alas! the void that's there</p> + + <p class="i2">No other form may hope to fill,</p> + + <p class="i2">For those who now with sorrow thrill</p> + + <p>In gazing on that vacant chair;</p> + + <p>Whither it seems he <i>must</i> return,</p> + + <p>For whose warm hand-clasp yet we yearn.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Tribute to genius all may give,</p> + + <p class="i2">Ours is the homage of the heart;</p> + + <p class="i2">For a friend lost our tears will + start,</p> + + <p>Lost to our sight, yet who shall live,</p> + + <p>Whilst one who knew that bold frank face</p> + + <p>At the old board takes the old place.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>For those, his closer kin, whose home</p> + + <p class="i2">Is darkened by the shadow grey,</p> + + <p class="i2">What can respectful love but pray</p> + + <p>That consolation thither come</p> + + <p>In that most sacred soothing guise</p> + + <p>Which natural sorrow sanctifies.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Bereavement's anguish to assuage</p> + + <p class="i2">Is a sore task that lies beyond</p> + + <p class="i2">The scope of friendship or most fond</p> + + <p>Affection's power. Yet may this page,</p> + + <p>True witness of our love and grief,</p> + + <p>To bowed hearts bring some scant relief!</p> + </div> + </div> + <hr /> + + <h3>"ANECDOTAGE."</h3> + + <h4><i>Companion Paragraph to Stories of the same + kind.</i></h4> + + <p>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 <i>School for + Scandal</i>, "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!"</p> + <hr /> + + <h2>THE LAY OF A SUCCESSFUL ANGLER.</h2> + + <div class="figright" + style="width:50%;"> + <a href="images/181.png"><img width="100%" + src="images/181.png" + alt="" /></a> + </div> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>The dainty artificial fly</p> + + <p class="i2">Designed to catch the wily trout,</p> + + <p>Full loud <i>laudabunt alii</i>,</p> + + <p class="i2">And I will join, at times, no doubt,</p> + + <p>But yet my praise, without pretence,</p> + + <p>Is not from great experience.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>I talk as well as anyone</p> + + <p class="i2">About the different kinds of tackle,</p> + + <p>I praise the Gnat, the Olive Dun,</p> + + <p class="i2">Discuss the worth of wings and + hackle;</p> + + <p>I've flies myself of each design,</p> + + <p>No book is better filled than mine.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>But when I reach the river's side</p> + + <p class="i2">Alone, for none of these I wish.</p> + + <p>No victim to a foolish pride.</p> + + <p class="i2">My object is to capture fish;</p> + + <p>Let me confess, then, since you ask it—</p> + + <p>A worm it is which fills my basket!</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>O brown, unlovely, wriggling worm,</p> + + <p class="i2">On which with scorn the haughty look,</p> + + <p>It is thy fascinating squirm</p> + + <p class="i2">Which brings the fattest trout to + book,</p> + + <p>From thee unable to refrain,</p> + + <p>Though flies are cast for him in vain!</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Deep gratitude to thee I feel,</p> + + <p class="i2">And then, perhaps, it's chiefly keen,</p> + + <p>When rival anglers view my creel,</p> + + <p class="i2">And straightway turn a jealous green;</p> + + <p>And, should they ask me—"What's your fly?"</p> + + <p>"A fancy pattern," I reply!</p> + </div> + </div> + <hr /> + + <h2>SWORD AND PEN;</h2> + + <h3 class="sc">Or, The Rival Commanders.</h3> + + <h4>(<i>Extract from a Military Story of the near + Future.</i>)</h4> + + <p>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 + <i>Queen's Regulations</i>, but he had vague ideas of the power + of the Press.</p> + + <p>"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."</p> + + <p>"Sergeant," returned the officer, harshly; "it is not the + business of men to argue, but to obey."</p> + + <p>"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."</p> + + <p>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.</p> + + <p>"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."</p> + + <p>"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."</p> + + <p>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.</p> + + <p>"What is the matter?" asked the Disguised One.</p> + + <p>"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."</p> + + <p>"What have they to say in their defence?" was the inquiry of + the Man in the Cloak.</p> + + <p>"He won't let us write to the newspapers!" was heard from + the ranks.</p> + + <p>"Is this really so?" asked the new-comer, in a tone more of + sorrow than of anger.</p> + + <p>"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—"</p> + + <p>"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."</p> + + <p>Thus encouraged, the Company dismissed without further word + of command.</p> + + <p>"And who may you be?" asked the Captain, with some + bitterness. "Are you the Commander-in-Chief?"</p> + + <p>"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!"</p> + + <p>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.</p> + <hr /> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page182" + id="page182"></a>[pg 182]</span> + + <div class="figcenter" + style="width:100%;"> + <h2>THE BATTLE OF THE BARDS; OR, THE LISTS FOR THE + LAURELS.</h2><a href="images/182.png"><img width="70%" + src="images/182.png" + alt="THE BATTLE OF THE BARDS; OR, THE LISTS FOR THE LAURELS." /> + </a> + </div> + + <h3 class="sc">Proem.</h3> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p><i>Tan-ta-ra-ra-ra-ra!</i> The trumpets blare!</p> + + <p>The rival Bards, wild-eyed, with windblown hair,</p> + + <p>And close-hugged harps, advance with fire-winged + feet</p> + + <p>For the green Laureate Laurels to compete;</p> + + <p>The laurels vacant from the brows of him</p> + + <p>In whose fine light all lesser lustres dim.</p> + + <p>Tourney of Troubadours! The laurels lie</p> + + <p>On crimson velvet cushion couched on high,</p> + + <p>Whilst <i>Punch</i>, Lord-Warden of his country's + fame,</p> + + <p>Attends the strains to hear, the victor-bard to + name.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>And first advances, as by right supreme,</p> + + <p>With frosted locks adrift, and eyes a-dream,</p> + + <p>With quick short footfalls, and an arm a-swing,</p> + + <p>As to some cosmic rhythm heard to ring</p> + + <p>From Putney to Parnassus, a brief bard.</p> + + <p>(In stature, <i>not</i> in song!) Though + passion-scarred,</p> + + <p>Porphyrogenitus at least he looks;</p> + + <p>Haughty as one who rivalry scarce brooks;</p> + + <p>Unreminiscent now of youthful rage,</p> + + <p>Almost "respectable," and well-nigh sage,</p> + + <p>Dame GRUNDY owns her once redoubted foe,</p> + + <p>Whose polished paganry's erotic flow,</p> + + <p>And red anarchic wrath 'gainst priests, and + kings,</p> + + <p>The virtues, and most other "proper" things,</p> + + <p>Once drew her frown where now her smile's + bestowed.</p> + + <p>Such is the power of timely + palinode!</p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page183" + id="page183"></a>[pg 183]</span> + + <p>Soft twanged his lyre and loud his voice + outrang,</p> + + <p>As the first Bard this moving measure + sang:—</p> + </div> + </div> + + <h3>ON THE BAYS.</h3> + + <center> + (<i>To the tune—more or less—of "In the + Bay."</i>) + </center> + + <h4>I.</h4> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Beyond the bellowing onset of base war,</p> + + <p>Their latest wearer wendeth! With wild zest.</p> + + <p>Fulfilled of windy resonance, the rest</p> + + <p>Of the bard-mob must hotly joust and jar</p> + + <p>To win the wreath that he beyond the bar</p> + + <p>Bare not away athwart the bland sea's breast.</p> + </div> + </div> + + <h4>II.</h4> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>And sooth the soft sheen of that deathless bay</p> + + <p>Gleams glamorous! Amorous was I in my day,</p> + + <p>Clamorous were Gath's goose-critics. But my + fire,</p> + + <p>Chastened from To-phet-fumes, burns purer, + higher;</p> + + <p>My thoughts on courtier-wings <i>might</i> make + their way</p> + + <p>Did my brow bear the laurels all these desire.</p> + </div> + </div> + + <h4>III.</h4> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>For I, to the proprieties reconciled.</p> + + <p>Who hymned Dolores, sing the "weanling child."</p> + + <p>At "home-made treacle" I made mocking mirth;</p> + + <p>That was before my better self had birth.</p> + + <p>At virtue's lilies and languors then I smiled,</p> + + <p>But Hertha's <i>not</i> thine only goddess, O + Earth!</p> + </div> + </div> + + <h4>IV.</h4> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>For surely brother, and master, and lord, and + king,</p> + + <p>Though vice's roses and raptures did not spring</p> + + <p>In thy poetic garden's trim parterre;</p> + + <p>Though thou wert fond of sunshine and sweet air,</p> + + <p>More than of kisses, that burn, and bite, and + sting;</p> + + <p>Some living love our England for thee bare.</p> + </div> + </div> + + <h4>V.</h4> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Thou, too, couldst sing about her sweet salt + sea,</p> + + <p>And trumpet pæans loud to Liberty,</p> + + <p>With clamour of all applausive throats. Thy + feet,</p> + + <p>Not wine-press red, yet left the flowers more + sweet,</p> + + <p>From the pure passage of the god to be;</p> + + <p>And then couldst thunder praises of England's + Fleet.</p> + </div> + </div> + + <h4>VI.</h4> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>I did not think to glorify gods and kings,</p> + + <p>Who scourged them ever with hate's sanguineous + rods;</p> + + <p>But who with hope and faith may live at odds?</p> + + <p>And then these jingling jays with plume-plucked + wings,</p> + + <p>Compete, and laureate laurels <i>are</i> lovely + things,</p> + + <p>Though crowing lyric lauders of kings and gods!</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Beshrew the blatant bleating of sheep-voiced + mimes!</p> + + <p>True thunder shall strike dumb their chirping + chimes.</p> + + <p>If there <i>be</i> laureate laurels, or bays, or + palms,</p> + + <p>In these red, Radical, revelling, riotous times,</p> + + <p>They should be the true bard's, though mid-age + calms</p> + + <p>His revolutionary fierce rolling rhymes,</p> + + <p>Fulfilled with clamour and clangour and storm + of—psalms</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>That great lyre's golden echoes rolled away!</p> + + <p>Forth tripped another claimant of the bay.</p> + + <p>Trim, tittivated, tintinnabulant,</p> + + <p>His bosom aped the true Parnassian pant,</p> + + <p>As may a housemaid's leathern bellows mock</p> + + <p>The rock—whelmed Titan's breathings. He no + shock</p> + + <p>Of bard-like shagginess shook to the breeze.</p> + + <p>A modern Cambrian Minstrel hopes to please</p> + + <p>By undishevelled dandy-daintiness,</p> + + <p>Whether of lays or locks, of rhymes or dress.</p> + + <p>Some bards pipe from Parnassus, some from + Hermon;</p> + + <p>Room for the singer of the Sunday Sermon!</p> + + <p>His stimulant tepid tea, his theme a text,</p> + + <p>Carmarthen's cultured caroller comes next!</p> + </div> + </div> + + <h3>THE WORTH OF VERSE.</h3> + + <center> + AIR—"<i>The Birth of Verse</i>." + </center> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Wild thoughts which occupy the brain,</p> + + <p class="i2">Vague prophecies which fill the ear,</p> + + <p>Dim perturbation, precious pain,</p> + + <p class="i2">A gleam of hope, a chill of + fear,—</p> + + <p>These vex the poet's spirit. Moral:—</p> + + <p>Have a shy at the Laureate Laurel!</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Some say no definite thought there is</p> + + <p class="i2">In my full flatulence of sound.</p> + + <p>Let National Observers quiz</p> + + <p class="i2">(H-NL-Y won't have it. I'll be + bound!)</p> + + <p>Envy! <i>O trumpery, O MORRIS!</i></p> + + <p>Could JUVENAL jealous be of HORACE?</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>I know the chambers of my soul</p> + + <p class="i2">Are filled with laudatory airs,</p> + + <p>Such as the salaried bard should troll</p> + + <p class="i2">When he the Laureate laurels wears.</p> + + <p>And I am he who opened Hades,</p> + + <p>To harmless parsons and to ladies!</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>For I <i>can</i> "moralise my song"</p> + + <p class="i2">More palpably than Mr. POPE;</p> + + <p>And I can touch the toiling throng:</p> + + <p class="i2">There is small doubt of <i>that</i>, I + hope.</p> + + <p>I've piped for him who ploughs the furrows,</p> + + <p>And stood for the Carmarthen Boroughs.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>I mayn't be strong, inspired, complete,</p> + + <p class="i2">But on the Liberal goose I'm sound.</p> + + <p>And I can count my (rhythmic) feet</p> + + <p class="i2">With any Pegasus around.</p> + + <p>I witch all women, and some men,</p> + + <p>GLADSTONE I've drawn, and written "<i>Gwen</i>."</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>If these be not sufficient claims,</p> + + <p class="i2">The worth of Verse is vastly small.</p> + + <p>I've called him various pretty names,</p> + + <p class="i2">The honoured Master of us all;</p> + + <p>"His place is with the Immortals." Yes!</p> + + <p>But I could fill it <i>here</i>, I guess!</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>His "chaste white Muse" could not object,</p> + + <p class="i2">For mine is white, and awfully + chaste.</p> + + <p>Now ALGERNON has no respect</p> + + <p class="i2">For purity and public taste.</p> + + <p>EDWIN is given to allegory.</p> + + <p>Whilst ALFRED is a wicked Tory!!!</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>He ceased. Great PUNCHIUS rubbed his eagle beak.</p> + + <p>And said, "I think we'll take the rest next + week!"</p> + </div> + </div> + <hr /> + + <div class="figcenter" + style="width:70%;"> + <a href="images/183.png"><img width="100%" + src="images/183.png" + alt="Experienced Sportsman and Inexperienced Fred." /> + </a><i>Experienced Sportsman</i> (<i>on Pony</i>). + "WELL—HAD GOOD SPORT, FRED, OLD BOY?" + + <p><i>Inexperienced Fred</i>. "NOT EXACTLY + 'GOOD,'—BUT I THINK I'VE LET OFF ABOUT A HUNDRED + CARTRIDGES."</p> + + <p><i>Experienced Sportsman</i>. "NOT SO BAD. S'POSE YOU + MUST HAVE 'LET OFF' AN EQUAL NUMBER OF PARTRIDGES!"</p> + </div> + <hr /> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page184" + id="page184"></a>[pg 184]</span> + + <h2>IN A GHOST-SHOW.</h2> + + <blockquote> + <p><i>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</i> Mr. MARTIN <i>is exhorting the crowd to step + up and witness his domestic tragedy, while the injured</i> + MARIA, <i>is taking the twopences at the door</i>; WILLIAM + CORDER <i>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."</i></p> + </blockquote> + + <h3 class="sc">Inside.</h3> + + <blockquote> + <p><i>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.</i></p> + </blockquote> + + <div class="drama"> + <p><i>First Youth</i> (<i>examining the decorative + Shakspearian panels on the proscenium.</i>) They three old + wimmin be a-pokin' o' that old nipper, 'ooever he be.</p> + </div> + + <blockquote> + <p>[<i>The "old nipper" in question is, of course,</i> + MACBETH.</p> + </blockquote> + + <div class="drama"> + <p><i>Second Youth.</i> Luk up at that 'un tother + side—it's a Gineral's gho-ast a-frightenin' th' + undertaker (<i>A subject from "Hamlet"</i>) They've gi'en + over dancin' outside—they'll be beginning soon. + (<i>The company descend the steps, and pass behind the + scenes.</i>) We shall see proper 'ere, we shall.</p> + </div> + + <blockquote> + <p>[<i>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</i> MARIA + MARTIN.</p> + </blockquote> + + <div class="drama"> + <p><i>Maria</i> (<i>coming out of Cottage, and speaking in + an inaudible tone</i>). At last—WILLIAM + CORDER—to make me his wife—I know not + why—strange misgiving 'as come over me.</p> + </div> + + <div class="figright" + style="width:40%;"> + <a href="images/184.png"><img width="100%" + src="images/184.png" + alt="'They catch one another's wrists, and walk up and down together.'" /> + </a>"They catch one another's wrists, and walk up and down + together." + </div> + + <blockquote> + <p>[<i>She is unfeelingly requested to speak up.</i></p> + </blockquote> + + <div class="drama"> + <p><i>William Corder</i> (<i>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</i>). + 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.</p> + </div> + + <blockquote> + <p>[MARIA <i>is understood to demur, but finally agrees to + the rendezvous, and retires into the Cottage.</i> Old Mr. + MARTIN <i>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</i> MARIA <i>being married in London, + but admits that, "Perhaps he has no right to interfere + with</i> WILLIAM's <i>arrangements," and goes indoors + again.</i> WILLIAM <i>retires, and the scene changes to a + 'very small street, which is presently invaded by a very + large Comic Countryman, called</i> "TIM," <i>who is engaged + to</i> MARIA's <i>sister</i> NANNY.</p> + </blockquote> + + <div class="drama"> + <p><i>Tim</i>. They tell I, as how the streets o' Lunnon be + paved wi' gold, and I be goin' 'oop to make ma fortune, I + be.</p> + </div> + + <blockquote> + <p>[NANNY <i>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</i>. WILLIAM CORDER, <i>on the ingenious plea that + he wishes to take some flowers up to London, borrows a + spade and pickaxe from</i> TIM, <i>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."</i></p> + </blockquote> + + <div class="drama"> + <p><i>William</i> (<i>going off with a flourish and a + Shakspearian couplet</i>).</p> + + <p class="i4">My <i>mind's</i> made up. Hence <i>all</i> + thoughts <i>that</i> are good!</p> + + <p class="i4">Crimes <i>once</i> commenced, <i>Must</i>. + End in—blood! [<i>Act drop.</i></p> + </div> + + <div class="drama"> + <p><i>A Female Spect.</i> They don't seem in no 'urry to + come to th' Gho-ast part, seemin'ly.</p> + + <p><i>Her Swain.</i> Ye wudn't have 'em do th' Gho-ast + afoor th' Murder, wud ye?</p> + </div> + + <blockquote> + <p>ACT II.—<i>The interior of the Red Barn</i>. + WILLIAM <i>discovered digging</i> MARIA's <i>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."</i></p> + + <p><i>Enter</i> MARIA, <i>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.</i></p> + </blockquote> + + <div class="drama"> + <p><i>Maria</i>. Here am I in disguise at the Red Barn. And + yet something seems to whisper to me that danger is near. + WILLIAM, where, <i>where</i> are you?</p> + + <p><i>William</i> (<i>coming out of a corner</i>). 'Ere, + MARIA, 'ere! (<i>Aside.</i>) Now to 'url my victim to an + early grave! (<i>Aloud.</i>) 'Ave you obeyed my + instructions and avoided notice?</p> + + <p><i>Maria</i>. I have. Whenever I saw anyone approaching, + I hid behind a hedge and ducked in the ditch.</p> + + <p><i>William</i> (<i>with sombre approval</i>). 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!</p> + </div> + + <blockquote> + <p>[<i>After some pleading from</i> MARIA, <i>a desperate + struggle takes place—that is, they catch one + another's wrists, and walk up and down together.</i> MARIA + <i>calls upon her Mother's spirit, whereupon a very + youthful Angel is seen floating above the couple.</i></p> + </blockquote> + + <div class="drama"> + <p><i>The Female S.</i> (<i>triumphantly</i>). Theer + now—theer ain't bin no murder yet, and theer's th' + Gho-ast sure enough!</p> + + <p><i>Swain</i> (<i>who is not going to own that he is + mistaken</i>). That ain't naw Gho-ast!</p> + + <p><i>Female S.</i> What is it, then?</p> + + <p><i>Swain.</i> Why, it's the "De-cep-ti-o Vissus," as was + wrote up outside.</p> + </div> + + <blockquote> + <p>[<i>The Guardian Angel vanishes;</i> WILLIAM <i>gets a + spade, and aims at</i> MARIA, <i>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.</i></p> + </blockquote> + + <div class="drama"> + <p><i>William</i> (<i>with unreasonable surprise</i>). + Great Evans! What 'ave I done? I, am become a + <i>Murderer</i>! The shot 'as taken effect! See, she + staggers this way! (<i>Which</i> MARIA <i>does, to die + comfortably in</i> WILLIAM's <i>arms</i>.) 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! (<i>The Curtain falls, leaving</i> WILLIAM <i>with + this nice point still unsolved, and the Audience profoundly + unmoved by the tragedy, and evidently longing for more of + the Comic Countryman.</i>)</p> + </div> + + <blockquote> + <p>ACT III.—<i>Interior of</i> Old MARTIN's + <i>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</i> MARIA + <i>appears in the tweed suit, and urges him to search for + her remains in the Red Barn.</i></p> + </blockquote> + + <div class="drama"> + <p><i>Old Martin</i> (<i>awaking</i>). I have 'ad a fearful + dream, and I am under the impression that MARIA has been + foully murdered in the Red Barn.</p> + </div> + + <blockquote> + <p>[<i>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.</i></p> + </blockquote> + + <div class="drama"> + <p><i>Old M.</i> (<i>finding the spade</i>). 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.</p> + </div> + + <blockquote> + <p>[<i>Roars of laughter when the Comic C. discovers the + body, and implores it to "say summat!" Change of Scene.</i> + WILLIAM CORDER <i>discovered At Home, in a long perspective + of pillars and curtains, ending in a lawn and + fountain.</i></p> + </blockquote> + + <div class="drama"> + <p><i>William</i> (<i>moodily</i>). '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.</p> + </div> + + <blockquote> + <p>[<i>Enter</i> Old MARTIN, <i>who, by the simple method + of changing his hat and coat, has now become a Bow-street + Officer; he puts questions to</i> WILLIAM, <i>who at once + betrays himself, and</i> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page185" + id="page185"></a>[pg 185]</span> <i>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</i> MARIA <i>in + tweeds, who exhorts him to repent</i>. Old MARTIN, + <i>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</i>. WILLIAM <i>shakes his head solemnly, + points to the skies, and passes on. The</i> Comic C. + <i>then goes to sleep in a chair and has a vision on his + own account, in which he beholds the apotheosis of</i> + MARIA—<i>still in the suit of dittoes—and + piloted by a couple of obviously overweighted Angels; + and also the last moments of</i> WILLIAM CORDER, <i>who, + as he stands under an enlarged "Punch" gibbet, + pronounces the following impressive farewell before + disappearing through a trap</i>.</p> + </blockquote> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Ye Youth, be warned by my Despair!</p> + + <p>Avoid bad women, false as they are fair. (<i>This is + just a little hard on poor</i> MARIA + <i>by-the-way.</i>)</p> + + <p>Be wise in time, if you would shun my fate,</p> + + <p>For oh! how wretched is the man who's wise too + late!</p> + </div> + </div> + + <blockquote> + <p>[<i>And with this the Drama comes to an end, and the</i> + Comic Countryman <i>begs the Audience to give the + performance a good word to their friends outside.</i></p> + </blockquote> + <hr /> + + <h2>BETWEEN THE ACTS; OR, THE DRAMA IN LIQUOR.</h2> + + <blockquote> + <p>SCENE—<i>Refreshment Saloon at a London Theatre. A + three-play bill forms the evening's entertainment. First + Act over. Enter</i> BROWN, JONES, <i>and</i> ROBINSON.</p> + </blockquote> + + <div class="drama"> + <p><i>Brown</i>. 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.</p> + + <p><i>Jones</i>. Yes, and really, after laughing so much, + one gets a thirst for what they call light refreshments. I + will have some ginger-beer.</p> + + <p><i>Robinson</i>. 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 <i>équivoque</i> one feels quite satisfied. + (<i>They are served by the Bar Attendant.</i>) That was + really very funny, where he hides behind the door when she + is not looking.</p> + </div> + + <blockquote> + <p>[<i>Laughs at the recollection.</i></p> + </blockquote> + + <div class="drama"> + <p><i>Brown</i>. And when the uncle sits down upon the + band-box and crushes the canary-cage! [<i>Chuckles.</i></p> + + <p><i>Jones</i>. Most clever. But there goes the bell, and + the Curtain will be up directly. Rather clever, I am told. + The <i>Rose of Rouen</i>—it is founded on the life of + <i>Joan of Arc</i>. I am rather fond of these historical + studies.</p> + + <p><i>Brown</i>. So am I. They are very interesting.</p> + + <p><i>Robinson</i>. Do you think so? Well, so far as I am + concerned, I prefer Melodrama. Judging from the title, + <i>The Gory Hand</i> should be uncommonly good.</p> + </div> + + <blockquote> + <p>[<i>Exeunt into Theatre. After a pause they return to + the Refreshment Room.</i></p> + </blockquote> + + <div class="drama"> + <p><i>Brown</i>. Well, it is very clever; but I confess it + beats me. (<i>To Bar Attendant.</i>) We will all take + soda-water. No, thanks, quite neat, and for these gentlemen + too.</p> + + <p><i>Jones</i>. Well, I call it a most excellent + psychological study. However, wants a clear head to + understand it. (<i>Sips his soda-water.</i>) I don't see + how she can take the flag from the Bishop, and yet want to + marry the Englishman.</p> + + <p><i>Robinson</i>. 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.</p> + + <p><i>Brown</i>. Are you going to stay for <i>The Gory + Hand</i>?</p> + + <p><i>Jones</i>. Not I. I am tired of play-acting, and + think we have had enough of it.</p> + + <p><i>Robinson</i>. Well, I think I shall look in. I am + rather fond of strong scenes, and it should be good, to + judge from the programme.</p> + + <p><i>Jones</i>. Well, we will "sit out." It's rather + gruesome. Quite different from the other plays.</p> + + <p><i>Robinson</i>. Well, I don't mind horrors—in + fact, like them. There goes the bell. So I am off. Wait + until I come back.</p> + + <p><i>Brown</i>. That depends how long you are away. Ta, + ta!</p> + </div> + + <blockquote> + <p>[<i>Exit</i> ROBINSON.</p> + </blockquote> + + <div class="drama"> + <p><i>Jones</i>. 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.</p> + + <p><i>Brown</i>. 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.</p> + + <p><i>Jones</i>. No—it sent my Maiden Aunt in + hysterics. However, it has the merit of being short. + (<i>Applause.</i>) Ah, there it's over! Let's see how + ROBINSON likes it. That <i>tableau</i> at the end, of the + starving-coastguardsman expiring under the rack, is + perfectly awful! (<i>Enter</i> ROBINSON, <i>staggering + in.</i>) Why, my boy, what's the matter?</p> + + <p><i>Brown</i>. You do look scared! Have something to + drink? That will set it all to-rights!</p> + + <p><i>Robinson</i> (<i>with his eyes protruding from his + head, from horror</i>). Here, help! help! (<i>After a long + shudder.</i>) Brandy! Brandy I: Brandy!</p> + </div> + + <blockquote> + <p>[<i>At all the places at the bar there is a general + demand for alcohol.</i></p> + </blockquote> + + <div class="drama"> + <p><i>Brown</i>. Yes. IRVING was right; soda-water does + very well for SHAKSPEARE's histories, but when you come to + a piece like <i>The Bells</i>, you require supporting. + [<i>Curtain and moral.</i></p> + </div> + <hr /> + + <h2>"IN A WINTER (COVENT) GARDEN."</h2> + + <p>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 <i>La Donna</i>, Her Most + Gracious MAJESTY, for his patron.</p> + + <p><i>Monday Night</i>.—The two RAVOGLIS in good form in + the <i>Orféo.</i> Likewise the Player of the Big Drum made more + than one big hit during the evening. "<i>Che farò</i>" was + re-demanded. "Tired of '<i>Faro</i>,'" quoth Mr. + WAGGSTAFF—"why not make it '<i>Whisto</i>,' or some other + game?" <i>Exit</i> WAGGY. The <i>Intermezzo</i> of + <i>Cavalleria Rusticana</i> 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 + <i>Trovatore's</i> voice behind the scenes) before the rise of + the Curtain, everyone said, "This is the tenner for our + money."</p> + + <div class="figright" + style="width:50%;"> + <a href="images/185.png"><img width="100%" + src="images/185.png" + alt="OPERATIC TACTICS." /></a> + + <h4>OPERATIC TACTICS.</h4><i>Sir Druriolanus</i>. "I Say, + Bevignani, I think we've got the right pitch, eh?" + </div> + + <p><i>Tuesday</i>.—The namesake of our own GEORGE + AUGUSTUS, Mlle. ROSITA SALA, made a real hit as <i>Leonora</i> + in <i>Il Trovatore</i>. "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. "<i>Il Balen</i>" was encored when + sung by a manly baritone with the feminine name of ANNA; + <i>i.e.</i>, Signor DE ANNA. He might advantageously alter + DE-ANNA to APOLLO, that is if he could be sure of looking the + part.</p> + + <p><i>Wednesday</i>.—<i>Lohengrin</i>. MELBA as + <i>Elsa</i>. WAGGSTAFF tried to make his usual pun on the name + of <i>Ortruda</i>, 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 '<i>aught ruder</i>!' I know!" "I've no + doubt you do," returned the defrauded WAGGY, sarcastically, + "for you're uncommonly like <i>Othello</i>, 'Rude am I in + speech'—only," added WAGGSTAFF, "<i>he</i> 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.</p> + + <p>Altogether, Sir DRURIOLANUS OPERATICUS, with his successful + Drury Lane Race-course, his Provincial Theatre, his Italian + Opera, his Paper (not <i>in</i> 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, "<i>De Gus. non disputandum</i>."</p> + <hr /> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page186" + id="page186"></a>[pg 186]</span> + + <div class="figcenter" + style="width:100%;"> + <a href="images/186-1.png"><img width="100%" + src="images/186-1.png" + alt="THE HEIGHT OF EXCLUSIVENESS." /></a> + + <h3>THE HEIGHT OF EXCLUSIVENESS.</h3> + + <p><i>Miss Prunes.</i> "AH, DOCTOR, THESE HIGH SCHOOLS ARE + SADLY MIXED! BUT, UNDER <i>MY</i> CARE, I CAN ASSURE YOU + THAT YOUR LITTLE WARD WILL ASSOCIATE WITH DAUGHTERS OF + <i>GENTLEMEN ONLY</i>!"</p> + + <p><i>The Doctor.</i> "THAT, MADAM, IS TO BE SELECT INDEED; + SINCE I BELIEVE PALLAS ATHENE ALONE FULFILLED SUCH A + CONDITION."</p> + + <p class="author">[<i>For pedigree of Pallas Athene vide + Classical Dictionary—Art. "Minerva."</i></p> + </div> + <hr /> + + <h2>COLUMBUS.</h2> + + <div class="figright" + style="width:20%;"> + <a href="images/186-2.png"><img width="100%" + src="images/186-2.png" + alt="" /></a> + </div> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>COLUMBUS! We read of him every day,</p> + + <p class="i2">In books, pamphlets, magazines, + papers;</p> + + <p>Whilst Italy, Portugal, Spain, U.S.A.,</p> + + <p class="i2">Cut constant, consecutive capers.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>They started last month with reviews on the + main;</p> + + <p class="i2">On the land with processions—a + quaint row.</p> + + <p>Such the fêtes, aptly called by the French "<i>Fêtes + de Gènes</i>,"</p> + + <p class="i2"><i>Fait accompli</i>, good luck, <i>ça + nous gêne trop!</i></p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>But never say die; now Huelva goes on,</p> + + <p class="i2">New York follows, steady and sober,</p> + + <p>And Chicago makes ready for more derned, dog + gone</p> + + <p class="i2"><i>Fêtes</i> to last till, at least, next + October!</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>COLUMBUS, your search for a sort of New Cut</p> + + <p class="i2">Was meant for the best, we don't doubt + it;</p> + + <p>No harm in discovering Continents, but</p> + + <p class="i2">You might have said nothing about it.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Still, had you not found a location for clam,</p> + + <p class="i2">Canvas back, buckwheat cakes, we should + sorter</p> + + <p>Have missed the acquaintance of 'cute Uncle SAM,</p> + + <p class="i2">And his fearless, free, fragile, fair + daughter.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>COLUMBUS! The newspapers never will drop</p> + + <p class="i2">This subject; we wish, as months roll + on,</p> + + <p>Some common bacillus had put a full stop</p> + + <p class="i2">Long ago to Don CHRISTOBAL COLON!</p> + </div> + </div> + <hr /> + + <h3>"ANECDOTAGE."</h3> + + <h4><i>Companion Paragraphs to Stories of the same + kind.</i></h4> + + <p>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 <i>Waverley</i> 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 <i>was</i> + BURNS.</p> + <hr class="short" /> + + <p>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.</p> + <hr class="short" /> + + <p>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.</p> + <hr /> + + <h3>NEW REGULATIONS FOR THE ENGLISH POLICE.</h3> + + <h4>(<i>Freely Adapted from the Irish Rules.</i>)</h4> + + <div class="figright" + style="width:15%;"> + <a href="images/186-3.png"><img width="100%" + src="images/186-3.png" + alt="" /></a> + </div> + + <p>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.</p> + + <p>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.</p> + + <p>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.</p> + + <p>4. Constables shall not congregate on land set apart for + workmen's gatherings, except to organise strikes amongst + themselves.</p> + + <p>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.</p> + + <p>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.</p> + <hr /> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page187" + id="page187"></a>[pg 187]</span> + + <div class="figcenter" + style="width:100%;"> + <a href="images/187.png"><img width="100%" + src="images/187.png" + alt="THE WHITE ELEPHANT." /></a> + + <h3>THE WHITE ELEPHANT.</h3>PRESENT PROPRIETOR + (<i>loq.</i>). "SEE HERE, GOVERNOR! HE'S A LIKELY-LOOKING + ANIMAL,—BUT <i>I</i> CAN'T MANAGE HIM! IF <i>YOU</i> + WON'T TAKE HIM, I MUST LET HIM GO!!" + </div> + <hr /> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page189" + id="page189"></a>[pg 189]</span> + + <h2>THE GREAT UNKNOWN.</h2> + + <blockquote class="note"> + <p>[The Rev. Dr. SMYTHE PALMER, of Trinity College, Dublin, + has just compiled a Book of Extracts, entitled <i>The + Perfect Gentleman</i>.]</p> + </blockquote> + + <p>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.</p> + + <p>He must not work. At the same time he must not be an + idler.</p> + + <p>He is known by his scrupulous attention to the minutiæ of + personal appearance, while "despising all outside show."</p> + + <p>The Perfect Gentleman "never wilfully hurts anybody." No + soldier, doctor, or schoolmaster can, therefore, ever be a + P.G.</p> + + <p>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.</p> + + <p>When his favourite corn is trodden on by a weighty stranger, + he never utters any expression stronger than "Dear me!"</p> + + <p>He never loses his temper.</p> + + <p>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.</p> + + <p>He must be well-born, although there are plenty of "Nature's + Gentlemen" in the ranks of day-labourers.</p> + + <p>He must be sufficiently wealthy to keep up a good position, + while recognising the fact that money has nothing to do with + true gentility.</p> + + <p>He should also try and remember that no such jumble of + contradictions as the Perfect Gentleman ever existed.</p> + <hr /> + + <div class="figcenter" + style="width:60%;"> + <a href="images/189.png"><img width="100%" + src="images/189.png" + alt="HIS BEST 'SOOT.'" /></a> + + <h3>HIS BEST "SOOT."</h3> + + <p><i>Short-tempered Gentleman in Black</i> (<i>after + violent collision with a Stonemason fresh from work</i>). + "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!!!"</p> + </div> + <hr /> + + <p>EPIGRAMMATICALLY PUT.—An Asylums Board Manager wrote + to the <i>Times</i> 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 <i>Mr. + Mantalini's</i> 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 <i>him</i>, Mr. LITTLER, whatever his Christian + names might be, appeared as a <i>Be-Littler</i>."</p> + <hr /> + + <p>"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."</p> + <hr /> + + <p>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 <i>willing</i>.</p> + <hr /> + + <h2>A USEFUL EXPERIENCE.</h2> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>I awoke at one in the morning,</p> + + <p class="i2">I had been two hours in bed,</p> + + <p>When—bang!—without any warning</p> + + <p class="i2">A joke came into my head.</p> + + <p>'Twas brilliant, awfully funny,</p> + + <p class="i2">It flashed through my drowsy brain,</p> + + <p>It was worth—oh, a lot of money!—</p> + + <p class="i2">I chuckled again and again.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>I thought how I might employ it,</p> + + <p class="i2">I laughed till the tears rolled down,</p> + + <p>Foreseeing how SMITH would enjoy it,</p> + + <p class="i2">And how it would tickle BROWN.</p> + + <p>I said, "I had best but hint it</p> + + <p class="i2">To <i>them</i>, or they might purloin</p> + + <p>This wonderful jest, then print it,</p> + + <p class="i2">And between them divide the coin."</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Late in the morn I awoke,—I</p> + + <p class="i2">Puzzled with all my might</p> + + <p>In vain to recall the joke I</p> + + <p class="i2">Made in the silent night.</p> + + <p>What <i>was</i> it about? No dreamer</p> + + <p class="i2">Am I! No—I think—I + frown—</p> + + <p>When next I make a screamer</p> + + <p class="i2">In bed—<i>I will write it + down</i>.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>By the side of the bed a taper</p> + + <p class="i2">Shall ever with matches be,</p> + + <p>A pencil and piece of paper,</p> + + <p class="i2">To note what occurs to me.</p> + <hr class="short" /> + + <p>Since then I have tried, but the late joke,</p> + + <p class="i2">As seen in my bedside scrawl,</p> + + <p>Is always so poor,—that the great joke,</p> + + <p class="i2"><i>I'm sure, was no joke at all!</i></p> + </div> + </div> + <hr /> + + <h2>YES OR NO?</h2> + + <blockquote class="note"> + <p>["The hand-writing of well-educated Ladies is often + disgracefully illegible."—<i>A Ladies' + Journal</i>.]</p> + </blockquote> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Oh, never did lover in fable</p> + + <p class="i2">In such a predicament stand,</p> + + <p>A letter I wrote to my MABEL,</p> + + <p class="i2">To ask for her heart and her hand,</p> + + <p>With compliments worded so nicely,</p> + + <p class="i2">A lifelong devotion I swore;</p> + + <p>She's answered—and left me precisely</p> + + <p class="i8">As wise as before!</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>It is true that I begged, when inditing</p> + + <p class="i2">My note, a reply with all speed,</p> + + <p>And MABEL, to judge from the writing,</p> + + <p class="i2">Fulfilled my petition indeed!</p> + + <p>The drift of this scrawl, so erratic,</p> + + <p class="i2">I am wholly unable to guess—</p> + + <p>It may be refusal emphatic,</p> + + <p class="i8">Or can it be "Yes"?</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>"Affection" she'll feel for me "ever,"</p> + + <p class="i2">But stay—if that blot is an + "<i>n</i>"</p> + + <p>It turns it at once into "never,"</p> + + <p class="i2">Or is it a slip of the pen?</p> + + <p>Her heart will a "truant (or true?) be,"</p> + + <p class="i2">And what is the word just above?</p> + + <p>It looks like—it cannot be—"booby"!</p> + + <p class="i8">Perhaps it is "love."</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>A meeting must needs be awaited</p> + + <p class="i2">To render these mysteries plain;</p> + + <p>Perhaps in this letter she's stated</p> + + <p class="i2">She never will see me again;</p> + + <p>On one thing at least I've decided;—</p> + + <p class="i2">Should she be my partner for life,</p> + + <p>A type-writer shall be provided</p> + + <p class="i8">For the use of my wife!</p> + </div> + </div> + <hr /> + + <h3>The German and Horse-trying Ride.</h3> + + <blockquote class="note"> + <p>["Most of the horses were standing, but propping + themselves up against a wall or a post."—<i>Standard, + Wednesday, October 12th</i>.]</p> + </blockquote> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Pity the sorrows of a worn-out horse,</p> + + <p class="i2">Whose trembling limbs support him 'gainst + a wall;</p> + + <p>Who asks you,—fearing future trials + worse—</p> + + <p class="i2">To kill him with a sudden + shot,—that's all.</p> + </div> + </div> + <hr /> + + <p>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?</p> + <hr /> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page190" + id="page190"></a>[pg 190]</span> + + <h2>CONVERSATIONAL HINTS TO YOUNG SHOOTERS.</h2> + + <h4>(<i>By Mr. Punch's own Grouse in the Gun-room.</i>)</h4> + + <p>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, <i>tempi passati, tempi + passati</i>! But away, fancy, and to our work, which is to + speak of</p> + + <h3 class="sc">Shooting-Lunches</h3> + + <p>in their relation to talk:—</p> + + <p>(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.</p> + + <p>"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."</p> + + <p>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."</p> + + <p>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 "<i>The + Tryst</i>" (always spelt "<i>The Trist</i>" on the German + print), "<i>The Saylor's Return," "The Warior's Dreem</i>," + "<i>Napoleon at Arcola</i>," 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."</p> + + <p>"Ah, my boy," says CHALMERS, "you'll find there's nothing + like a stew out shooting."</p> + + <p>"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."</p> + + <p>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.</p> + + <p>But this subject is so great, and has so many varieties, + that we must recur to it in our next.</p> + <hr /> + + <div class="figcenter" + style="width:70%;"> + <a href="images/190.png"><img width="100%" + src="images/190.png" + alt="IN THE RUE DE LA PAIX." /></a> + + <h3>IN THE RUE DE LA PAIX.</h3> + + <p><i>Hairdresser</i>. "SAY THEN, SARE ZAT YOU ARE + RASÉ—SHAVE,—IS IT THAT I SHALL CUT YOU OFF YOUR + 'AIR?"</p> + + <p><i>Mr. Brown</i> (<i>an old-fashioned Englishman, on his + first Visit to Paris—startled</i>). "HEY! WHAT! CUT + MY HAIR OFF! NONG, MOSSOO—COMPRENNY?—NONG! DO + YOU THINK I WANT TO LOOK LIKE ONE OF YOUR FRENCH + POODLES?"</p> + </div> + <hr /> + + <h3>TO OUR GUERNSEY CORRESPONDENTS.</h3> + + <p>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 + <i>not</i> 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 <i>Mr. Punch</i> himself.</p> + <hr /> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page191" + id="page191"></a>[pg 191]</span> + + <div class="figcenter" + style="width:100%;"> + <a href="images/191.png"><img width="60%" + src="images/191.png" + alt="THE GOLFER'S DREAM." /></a> + + <h3>THE GOLFER'S DREAM.</h3> + </div> + <hr /> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page192" + id="page192"></a>[pg 192]</span> + + <h2>LADY GAY'S SELECTIONS.</h2> + + <p class="author"><i>Mount Street, Grosvenor Square.</i></p> + + <p>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 <i>wooden-headed</i>, which I am + sure none of your contributors are!—I can answer for + <i>one</i>!)—has again placed you in the position envied + of all Journals, viz.,—(<i>why</i> do people put "viz.," + and not "namely"?—it <i>is</i> silly!) that of affording + "information" given by no other Journal! All of which preamble + means,—(by the way, why "pre-<i>amble</i>"?—if one + is a speedy writer, why not "pre-<i>canter</i>"?)—that + <i>Punch</i>, in the person of LADY GAY—(that <i>may</i> + seem a little mixed, but it isn't)—was the <i>only</i> + Sporting Paper which tipped the winner of the Cesarewitch!</p> + + <p>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 "<i>Burnaby came to the rescue</i>"—and if + this is not giving the winner, I should like to know what is! + It is true I made <i>Brandy</i> 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 + <i>after</i> 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 <i>might</i> be lost! Anyhow, there was a ton + of money for the winner <i>after</i> the race, which his owner + <i>had</i> to take, willy-nilly, or HOBSON's choice!</p> + + <p>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 + <i>The Vigil</i> was received with enthusiasm!</p> + + <p>Next week takes us to Gatwick and Sandown—(or rather + the <i>train</i> 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, <i>speed and endurance</i>—whereas + the modern flat-racing has degenerated, for the most part, into + scrambles and gambles, where <i>speed</i> is the only + requisite!—but more of this anon—but <i>not</i> + anonymous, as I believe in signed articles, as the apprentice + said! (<i>Not</i> BRADFORD!)</p> + + <p>The most important race at Gatwick—(<i>delightful</i> + place to go racing—lots of room to move about + in)—is the Thousand Pound Handicap, in which race + <i>Brandy</i> is worth keeping an eye on, as she ought to beat + <i>Burnaby</i> at the difference in the weights—other + horses that might make their mark during the + week—(especially now the ground is soft)—are, + <i>Pilot, Golden Garter</i>—(<i>I</i> never was guilty of + such extravagance as that)—<i>Queen of + Navarre</i>—(<i>she</i> might have been)—<i>Meadow + Brown</i>, <i>Terror</i>, and <i>Seawall</i>, the last three in + the "Jumping Races"—and, in conclusion, the inevitable + rhythmical winner, from</p> + + <p class="author">Yours devotedly,<br /> + LADY GAY.</p> + + <h3 class="sc">Orleans Nursery Selection.</h3> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>The man who would back any other</p> + + <p class="i2">Appears but a gander to be,</p> + + <p>For the horse that all comers will smother</p> + + <p class="i2">Is certainly <i>Tanderagee</i>!</p> + </div> + </div> + <hr /> + + <div class="figcenter" + style="width:40%;"> + <a href="images/192.png"><img width="100%" + src="images/192.png" + alt="DIGNITY AND IMPUDENCE." /></a> + + <h3>DIGNITY AND IMPUDENCE.</h3>"I SAY, GUV'NER! WHEN ARE + YOU GOING TO BE TOOK DOWN FOR HALTERATIONS AND REPAIRS?" + </div> + <hr /> + + <h3>MY SEASON TICKET.</h3> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Ever against my breast,</p> + + <p>Safe in my pocket pressed,</p> + + <p>Ready at my behest,</p> + + <p class="i2">Daintily pretty</p> + + <p>Gilt-printed piece of leather,</p> + + <p>Though fair or foul the weather,</p> + + <p>Daily we go together</p> + + <p class="i2">Up to the City.</p> + + <p>Yet, as I ride at ease,</p> + + <p>Papers strewn on my knees,</p> + + <p>And I hear "Seasons, please!"</p> + + <p class="i2">Shouted in warning:</p> + + <p>Pockets I search in vain</p> + + <p>All through and through again;</p> + + <p>"Pray do not stop the train—</p> + + <p class="i2">Lost it this morning.</p> + + <p>No, I have not a card,</p> + + <p>Nor can I pay you, Guard—</p> + + <p>Truly my lot is hard,</p> + + <p class="i2">This is the reason,</p> + + <p>Now I recall to mind</p> + + <p>Changing my clothes, I find</p> + + <p>I left them all behind,—</p> + + <p class="i2">Money, cards, 'Season.'"</p> + </div> + </div> + <hr /> + + <h2>WRITTEN A HUNDRED YEARS HENCE.</h2> + + <h4>(<i>From a Collection of Communications supplied by our + Prophetic Compiler.</i>)</h4> + + <p>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 <i>must</i> pull down something, let them + destroy the recently-erected Mansion House! but spare, oh + spare, the Griffin!</p> + + <p class="author">Yours truly,<br /> + A STUDENT OF THE LORE OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY.</p> + + <p><i>The Palace, Brixton</i>.</p> + + <p>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.</p> + + <p><i>Burlington House</i>,</p> + + <p class="author">Yours truly,<br /> + A ROYAL ACADEMICIAN.</p> + + <p><i>From</i> 1 <i>to</i> 1000, <i>Piccadilly.</i></p> + + <p>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 + <i>Foudroyant</i> and the Emmanuel Hospital that were printed + early in the nineties. You may make what use you please of this + communication.</p> + + <p class="author">Yours respectfully,<br /> + THE SPIRIT OF THE PAST.</p> + + <p><i>The Earth (Branch Establishment, Mars and + Jupiter).</i></p> + <hr /> + + <p><font size="+1">☞</font> NOTICE.—Rejected + Communications or Contributions, whether MS., Printed Matter, + Drawings, or Pictures of any description, will in no case be + returned, not even when accompanied by a Stamped and Addressed + Envelope, Cover, or Wrapper. To this rule there will be no + exception.</p> + <hr class="full" /> +<p>***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI, VOL. 103, OCTOBER 22, 1892***</p> +<p>******* This file should be named 15594-h.txt or 15594-h.zip *******</p> +<p>This and all associated files of various formats will be found in:<br /> +<a href="https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/5/5/9/15594">https://www.gutenberg.org/1/5/5/9/15594</a></p> +<p>Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed.</p> + +<p>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. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. 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